Not much of an army, this band. They would not have impressed a
drill-sergeant. To many even in those towns they were just a number of
sundowners. [4] They would act the part, arriving as the sun was
setting and, throwing their swags on the veranda of the hotel, lining
up to the bar, eyeing the loungers there to see who would stand treat.
Only the eye of God Almighty could see that beneath the dust and rags
there were hearts beating with love for country, and spirits exulting
in the opportunity offering in the undertaking of a man-size job.
Perhaps a Kitchener would have seen that the slouch was but habit and
the nonchalance merely a cloak for enthusiasm, but even he would hardly
have guessed that these were the men who would win on Gallipoli the
praise of the greatest British generals, who called them "the greatest
fighters in the world." Soon the news of these bands "on the wallaby"
[4] at the call of country caught the imagination of the whole nation.
Outback was terra incognita to the city-bred Australian, but that these
men who were coming to offer their lives should walk into the city
barefoot could not be thought of. The government was soon convinced
that the weeks, and, in some cases, months that would be occupied in
this long tramp need not be wasted. Military training could be given
on the way, and they might arrive in camp finished soldiers.

So the snowball marches were at last recognized and controlled by the
government. Whenever as many as fifty had been gathered together,
instructors, boots, and uniforms were sent along, and the march partook
of a military character. No longer were they sundowners; they
_marched_ into town at the end of the day, four abreast, in proper
column of route, with a sergeant swinging his cane at the head,
sometimes keeping step to the tune of mouth-organs. The uniforms were
merely of blue dungaree with white calico hats, but they were
serviceable, and all being dressed alike made them look somewhat