ties, till Commonwealth Pier loomed alongside. The pier was thronged with madly cheering people, soldiers and civilians. Many of the former wore the familiar YD and the red discharge stripe, wounded men who had been invalided home before the armistice.

                A gangplank went down and was immediately covered with a hurrying swarm of newspapermen and lucky holders of passes. In placid contentment we gazed longingly down at the crowded pier, at the buildings crowded close to the water's edge—we were at home!

                Little sleep for us that night. The following morning we were to disembark, and that thought alone was enough to keep us awake, let alone the din and clangor of the tireless derricks which worked all through the night discharging the cargo from the hold.

                Sunrise found us on deck, packs made, waiting eagerly for the order to pass off to the pier. At last the order came, and we filed impatiently along the deck to our gangplank, chafing at the least delay, until, with a surge of relief, our feet struck the hard concrete of the dock. A band, hammering away for dear life, sent its music echoing down the long covered shed, while we performed sundry eccentric evolutions which swung us into line along one wall of the shed.

                Off went all the packs, and cups were produced as by magic from the depths of canteen covers, for a swarm of Red Cross workers bore down on us with huge cans of coffee and trays of buns.

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INDEX