Reinforcements

"Reinforcements"

Who: Young, Kathleen, Alistair, Dayne
With Cameo By Colonel Neville Howse: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neville_Howse
When: August 1915 (OOC Date: July 1, 2009)
Where: Watson's Pier, Anzac Cove

What: Reinforcements from the Australian Light Horse are delivered to Anzac Cove to add more bodies before the August Offensive push. Colonel Neville Howse, Assistant Director Medical Services, oversees their medical examination, and shares some health statistics with the doctor and nurse.

Watson's Pier

The Grid-----> > > > > THE LOST GENERATION < < <


Theatre is : Anzac Cove

Coordinates : 0 6

The Mediterranean Sea stretches out like an endless field of blue beyond the shores of the Gallipoli Peninsula. Navy ships are occasionally visible off the coast, a reminder that the war is being waged by sea on the Dardanelles strait, just beyond this chunk of rock.

It is currently daytime.

Sub-Rooms :

Contents
Kathleen
War
Dayne

Colonel Howse
East <E> South <S>
North <N>

Young has arrived.
Young arrives from the East.

Transport ships are visible on the horizon. Most of them headed to the beaches up north but one is docking in Anzac Cove. Carrying reinforcements for the upcoming offensive push against the Turks. Many troopers have gathered on the beaches to greet them and watch the ships come in. The medical personnel are there in a more official capacity, to inspect the condition of the men as they unload. Colonel Neville Howse, Assistant Director Medical Services, is there personally to oversee things. He waits on the dock, in a white doctor's coat over his uniform, a tired, pensive look on his face as he watches the ships.

Alistair has arrived.
Alistair arrives from the East.

Kathleen is on the dock as well, waiting around to see what's going on. The sudden influx of reinforcements is a new development and she's not sure quite what to make of it.

Dayne is at the pier, looking out at the reinforcements, and looks to Kathleen, smirking, "Finally, our ships have come in." Cue the audience groan here. He knows it's a bad joke, but it's worth the telling.

Young is likewise out on the docks somewhere just near Kathleen, watching the supply ship roll in. His glasses, cracked months ago and never replaced, are pushed up onto his forehead, making some of his dark blond hair stick up in tufts at the hairline.

Alistair stands with his arms folded as he idles on the dock curiously eyeing the incoming vessels. Part of him wants to believe it may be replacements to pull the veterans off the lines, but he knows otherwise. The medic turned battle-field surgeon simply stands with a grim look etched into his face. Alistair's jaw is tightly drawn as he wanders over where Young and the others are. "Any word?"

Kathleen grins at Dayne's joke. "Aye, quite a few of them." She glances toward the colonel, still not entirely sure what they're here for.

Colonel Howse walks back to stand near Young as the ship rolls to the dock. He nods politely to the doctor and Alistair, and touches his cap in acknowledgement of Kathleen. But it's Young he speaks to. "Doctor. I've heard admirable reports from your aid station here. You're to be commended. Conditions are difficult, I know."

Young shakes his head slightly to Alistair. As the Colonel comes closer he unfolds his arms and straightens up a little bit; it's a touch of respect he shows to very few of the officers that roll through here. "Colonel." Likewise, brim of cap tipped to the man. "We been doin what we can, every last soul eh? Commendations sure ain't mine alone." He looks over at the ship docking, lips thinning before he looks back at the Colonel. "We got any news of what we need to be preparin' for?"

Dayne falls quiet at Youngs words, listening with interest. Hmm news.

A salute is the first thing to come from the medic as Alistair turns to face the Colonel. He hasn't exactly got the most respect for officers and the like, but he is just a private after all. A few months of hell and the only time he ever sees any brass is when they're ordering him to go do something to get himself killed. In any event, Alistair remains quiet to listen in.

Kathleen also falls quiet as the Colonel comes over. She nods back to him, but then just listens.

"Surely not," the colonel agrees with Young, a faint smile coming to his face. He has a kind sort of face for an officer. Perhaps why they stuck him with Medical Services. Alistair's salute is acknowledged. "Private. Sister. You've both shouldered far more burdens than is proper, I'm sure, but I've heard only good words about the nurses and medics in this station." He turns back toward the ship, smile disappearing. "I'm unsure what the commanders here have briefed the men on, but it should be clear by now we're preparing for a major offensive. Command has tired of the stalemate, and these lads are coming in to add to your numbers for a push against the Mehmet."

Young slides his hands into his pockets. As Howse turns to address the others he turns his head politely to spit. Not at the man's words, it's just that someone gave him chewing tobacco earlier, and that shit's nasty. He then nods firmly to the extended thanks to the others and looks back at the Colonel. "Damn good news. How many troops we got unloadin, about?"

Dayne nods, listening, looking to the boats once more, appearing thoughtful as he ponders the ships coming in.

Kathleen flashes a faint smile back at the Colonel and his praise. "Thank you, Colonel. We're all just doing our bit." She, too, loses the smile at the mention of the offensive.

"Aye, an offensive then? The Turks won't know what hit them." Yes they will. A wall of poor Australian souls, thats what. They won't know what to do with all the bodies. Alistair doesn't give his thought away, however and simply adjusts the armband with the bold red cross on it. He'll have to do his best to keep the lads alive.

"The majority of the reinforcements are landing at Suvla Bay with the Pommys," Colonel Howse replies. Perhaps ironically, as his own Australian accent has prominent traces of English schooling. He gestures to the ships continuing to snake north through the sea along the peninsula. "But we've several squads strength on this ship. Mostly from the Light Horse regiments, so apart from the strain of the journey they should be hale and hearty soldiers. Private?" A look is directed at Dayne, who apparently the colonel deems idle. "Help secure the boat. Let's get these fellows unloaded promptly and safely." He gestures toward the men on the pier helping with the ropes as the transport docks. If he notes the lack of enthusiasm about the upcoming offensive he gives no sign of it. Though his own manner is pensive. That look is directed to Alistair as well. "Assist the Private with the ropes, Medic. And start directing the men to the exam stations as they're coming off the ship." Several small, shaded spots have been prepared on the beach for the boys to line up and be prodded.

Alistair snaps his hells together and lifts a salute to the brim of his hat, "Aye Sir!" The medic adjusts the canvas bag over his shoulder and jogs down to help Dayne wrestle and secure the rope. The examinations should be rather straight forward. Unless any of the bunch are like their lads and got into some scuffles while on board the ship. Of all the things that could happen, Alistair only expects nutritional issues — nothing that a good meal or two can't fix.

Dayne straightens, "Sir." He says, still not saluting the superior officers. He then scampers off to get ropes and start the tying off and helping to secure the ships.

Young's lips pull back on one side, showing a brief grin at Howse's use of that particular term. Then it vanishes. He glances at dayne and Alistair as they're given their marching orders, then back at Kathleen and the colonel. "They send us over any supplies while they were at it?" He asks, with hope that he's not letting grow too fast.

Kathleen watches the two lads go off to sort out the ropes, but then her attention is drawn back to the Colonel at Young's question, a bit eagerly.

Colonel Howse nods an affirmative to Young. "Likely not as many as you could wish for, but I've pushed Command for as many spare bandages, stretchers and vials of morphine as they can reasonably ship here for use by Medical Services." Encouraging, though if they're sending more supplies, they undoubtedly thin they'll be in demand. He clears his throat, stepping a little away from the dock and motioning for Young and Kathleen to follow. "Sister, Doctor, if I could have a brief word about upcoming medical matters?" Matters not for sharing with the rank-and-file troopers who're milling around, apparently.

"Everything helps." Young's reply is simple but his tone is anything but. Those two words carry immense weight. As the Colonel starts away, he nods Kathleen on first. "'Course, Colonel."

Kathleen nods in agreement with Young. "Aye, we'll certainly put them to good use." She would add sooner or later, but figures it's going to unfortunately be sooner. She readily follows along with the colonel, looking curious.

Colonel Howse strolls until they're a little off to the side of the pier, on the beach, and whispers in low, grave tones to Young and Kathleen. Meanwhile, the ship descends on the dock, and the men get to securing it so it can unload its cargo of reinforcements and supplies.

You paged (Young, Kathleen) with 'It won't do to have word of this get around to the men. Would damage morale. But I'm sure you're both well aware of the medical realities here, and you must be especially mindful of them as the offensive approaches. I have reports from all the aid stations, as well as the hospital ships and installation on Lemnos. The constant strain of duty here, the small quantity of water, and the climatic conditions, together with a type of diarrhoea that id producing anaemia that I'm sure you're both all too familiar with, has undermined the men's health. Perhaps thirty percent of them are unfit and the rest are not fresh and are unlikely to be able to withstand prolonged strain.'.

You paged (Young, Kathleen) with 'The colonel says that, as I cannot figure out how to whisper to you both.

Young keeps his eyes on Howse as the man talks so quietly. He fishes a cigarette from his pocket, the end bent like some surreal smokestack, and turns his face away from both to light up. Smoke curls up into the sea wind as he looks back, skimming the side of his thumb past his nose. When he answers Howse it's also quiet.

From afar, to (Colonel Howse, Kathleen): Young speaks frankly. "This sickness, is it contagious? Ain't going to do us as much good if we got our own droppin' like flies before they get to battle."

Kathleen gives a quiet nod to the colonel, her mouth tightening into a somber line. She chimes in quietly after Young speaks.

From afar, to (Colonel Howse, Young): Kathleen adds, "There's been precious little we've been able to do for the dysentery but keep the lads comfortable and let it run its course. Is there something you'd suggest?"

Long distance to (Young, Kathleen): Colonel Howse sighs heavily. "Contagious? Not in a clinical sense. It's just fatigue, stress, lack of clean water. The time here has simply taken its tole on the men, and they're about to be pushed in a way that would strain the healthiest of men. And I fear there's little you can do you aren't doing already, Sister. Watch them carefully over these next days. Keep them as fit as you can and help them along as you're skills can. All who're able will be needed for the offensive. But. If you feel a man is truly unfit for the line, don't hesitate to keep him back. None will say a word against it if I've anything to say about it."

Dayne is lashing a rope the thickness of his damn leg to a large metal thing on the pier. Grunt strain.

Colonel Howse continues to conference in that low, sober way with Kathleen and Young. Meanwhile, the reinforcements start to unload once she ship is secure. All young men, very few past twenty-five, tan and hearty from their training in Egypt. Cavalrymen from the Light Horse, though they're being used as infantry in this particular adventure. All the infantrymen that could be gathered have been scooped up for it. Some bear signs of seasickness from the voyage, but apart from that they're the healthiest troops this shore has seen in months.

Young's eyes turn from Howse, looking back towards the docks for quite some time. Then he regards the Colonel again and talks quietly.

To (Colonel Howse, Kathleen), Young pages: When they get to buildin that vacation resort out here on the beach, we'll send up over. Till then we'll make do. We'll keep a good eye on 'em, Colonel.

Kathleen watches the troops filter up the dock, forcing a smile as they pass. She's gotten very good at faking cheerfulness over the past few months. Her tone to Howse is less than cheerful, however. "Surely will do our best, sir."

Colonel Howse nods deeply to Young and Kathleen. He answers properly aloud, "I'm certain you do, Doctor. Do what you can." It's all he can say, really. He watches the reinforcements unload with a certain weariness. Then nods again to the doctor and nurse. "I should get up to brigade headquarters. I've a report to deliver to the officers before the offensive on the general state of the men. I'll be back to collect your reports from the exams once you've finished. Again, my thanks for your work." With a few parting pleasantries, he's off to commune with his fellow brass.

Dayne finishes tying the boat off and moves back when shooed away from the boat.

Alistair gestures and orders up the landing soldiers as best he can into little exam lines for the other medics and doctors to take a look at. Before he ducks in for his personal duty at the exam-line he jogs back over to Young and Kathleen with a curious look. "What was that all about, Doc? Nothing good by the looks of it."

"Always, Colonel," Young replies, as to Howse's asking them to do what they can. He tips his cap to the man and pauses to take a much needed drag off his cigarette while Alistair approaches them. "General updates," he tells Alistair. "How are the men looking?"

Dayne moves back to where he was once the help he was ordered to give is done, and looks at the Medical type people.

"They're pretty fit, Doc. Think us but three or four months ago. Though why do I get the feeling that they're going to look like us now over the course of a single offensive." Alistair reports lightly, taking a look back at the soldiers lining up and geetting ready to get their boots dirty.

The reinforcement troops are smiling and joking as they march off the ship and down the pier. They look eager as anything as they step onto Gallipoli. "Pity we couldn't bring out horses," one upper-class lad notes to Dayne as he passes him. "You'd have been in for a treat, mate. Those Turks'd melt like butter before real cavalry. Charge!" This call gets some laughter from his friends as the party of them head off to line up at the exam areas.

Dayne looks at the posh ponce, and nods, "Really? you don't think they'd shoot you dead as soon as the horse hit the barbed wire and freaked out?" He asks curious.

Kathleen watches the enthusiasm of the new arrivals, and her smile flickers a bit. "Poor lads have no idea what they're in for," she murmurs to Young.

"If I could send 'em home, I would. But you do with the shit you're handed," Young says, exhaling smoke through his nose. "Our job's to care for 'em, so let's pull it best we can. God'll have to take care of the rest."

"Wonderful." Alistair says, his shoulders sagging. "And here I was just getting used to my medical duties at the aid tent." He was first on the landing so it's likely he'll be first in the bloody offensive too. "You and the sisters will be hella short handed after that,"

The light horseman turns to stare at Dayne, surprised by that humorless reaction. "Was just having a laugh, mate. Nothing meant by it." He shrugs and continues on to get himself examined, step lively and casual.

Kathleen gives a bleak nod to Young, forcing her smile back on for the next batch of boys to pass. She doesn't even blink at his language any more. Alistair gets a faint smile. "We've been short-handed since we arrived, mate. We'll make do."

Dayne shrugs, not looking too terribly offended by the man, just having that hollow, cold look of knowledge of what kind of war they're fighting here and he turns away to continue to walk towards the Medica.

Young reaches over and claps Alistair's shoulder, none too lightly. "Come on then, Private. You'll be alright. And you ain't seen Sister Kathleen run 'em ragged when she gets onto it. She'll handle it." He looks around at all of them and jerks a thumb back towards the beach and off the docks. "Let's get a move on then. Supplies need getting ready as well."

From the Gallipoli Timeline at http://www.anzacsite.gov.au/: Colonel Neville Howse, Assistant Director Medical Services, reported on the condition of the men of the 1st Australian Division six days before they were to take part in the major August Offensive at Anzac. Howse wrote that the constant strain, the small quantity of water, and the climatic conditions, together with a type of diarrhoea that was producing anaemia, had undermined the men’s health. Thirty percent of them were unfit and the rest were not fresh and were unlikely to be able to withstand prolonged strain.

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