THE MECHANICAL TRANSPORT


A cloud of red dust along a rough bush track, a rattling jar
approaching, and the donkey transport pulls into the bushes to let the
Juggernaut of the road go by. Swaying and plunging over the rough
ground, lurches one of our huge motor lorries. Perched high up upon the
seat, face and arms burnt dark brown by the tropical sun, is the driver.
Stern faced and intent upon the road, he slews his big ship into a
better bit of road by hauling at the steering wheel. Beside him on the
seat the second driver. Ready to their hands the rifles that may save
their precious cargo from the marauding German patrol which lies hidden
in the thick bush beside the road. In the big body of the car behind are
two thousand pounds of rations, and atop of all a smiling "tota," the
small native boy these drivers employ to light their fires and cook
their food at night. And this load is food for a whole brigade alone for
half a day; so you may see how necessary it is that this valuable cargo
arrives in time.

It may sound to you, in sheltered London, a pleasant and agreeable thing
to drive through this strange new country full of the wild game that
glimpses of Zoological Gardens in the past suggest. "A Zoo without a
blooming keeper." But there is no department of war that does such hard
work as these lorry drivers.

For them no rest in the day that is deemed a lucky one, if it provides