This is purely
supposition on his part, as he had no notion what nerves were. We
sometimes wondered if he even knew what pain was. He was badly
frost-bitten on Suvla, and had to be pushed off the Peninsula--at
Sheria a bullet passed through his forearm and grazed his upper arm
and ribs. He got it tied up, and continued with the advance, and then
assisted wounded all night at the dressing-station. The C.O. ordered
him to go to the Field Ambulance at once to have his wound seen to,
but George put in four more hours before complying with the order.
At Fakenham an officer joined us from the Wild West--a cow-puncher and
lassoo expert. The obvious name for him was Arizona;[12] and Arizona
he remained. I have even heard him referred to as Captain Arizona. An
enthusiast in whatever he took up, he was in turn scout officer,
transport officer, Lewis gun officer, quartermaster and company
commander. But it is as sports officer that he will be best
remembered--training the football or running teams, coaching the
tug-of-war, organising cricket or baseball, or arranging mule
gymkhanas or swimming matches. One of his best efforts was coaching
the tug-of-war team in the final against Lovats at Sohag. Only when
his handkerchief was in his right hand were his instructions
"genuine."[13]--"Heave" with it in his left meant nothing, and
completely mystified the opposing coach. Poor old Arizona! He went out
with us to Gallipoli, and was with us to the very end.
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