“The Light that Failed” (And some that didn’t)

Among the many examples of ingenuity displayed by Billjim on service, the manufacture of illuminants, if you will pardon the prolixity, shines out the most brilliantly. The Sun itself is considered to be a pretty perfect and economical source of light, but it is not infallible. The annoying habit it has of dodging off about sundown excludes it from the category of the perfectly perfect, and Billjim is forced to procure a substitute to enable him to relieve the tedium of his evenings with the exhilarating influence of two-up, poker, swapping yarns and other harmless pursuits.

The issue candle is, of course, the recognized form of illuminant; but by the time the Greatest, the Sub-Greatest, the Q-Emmer, the Orderly-Room Ogre and the Sigs get their cut, the stock is usually depleted to a mere skeleton of its former fat self, and the insignificant stump that is left to shed its radiance around the humble bivvies of the rank and file, is, as often as not, irretrievably lost to sight owing to the shortage of telescopes in the unit’s equipment. Hence the exercise of Billjim’s ingenuity.

Some devices were truly efficient, others resembled the seeds that fell on stony ground; while one I know of was positively dangerous. The one in question was disapproved of from its very inception. The wise ones shook their heads dubiously, and opined that it was sheer flying in the face of Providence to use one’s issue of rum for the sacrilegious purpose of making air-gas for a blooming light. After the explosion occurred, and the blasphemous one was struck off the strength, they said, “I told him so,” and everybody was satisfied.

The most popular form is the slush-light, which is simply composed of any old thing that will hold grease, and any kind of grease that will fit into it; first, a layer of sand or clay is dumped into the jam, milk, cigarette or other tin; then a wick made of “3 x 2,” or issue flannelette, wrapped around a thin pine stick, is stuck upright in the middle of the sand or clay; and finally the grease is introduced, the quantity being governed by the 84amount one has been able to acquire. It is on record that some chaps have had the effrontery to use dubbin, yes, “dubbin!” but, of course, this is not official, just common furphy.

Next to the slushie comes the bottle-o; but to employ this it is necessary to have the above-mentioned rarity, candle. For candle one is not wholly dependent on the “issue” brand, for it has been known to be purchaseable at the canteen—when those institutions are in the vicinity. Supposing the possession of candle to be an established and material fact, the next necessity is a clear-glass bottle; old lime-juice bottles are excellent, and they can be found outside any officers’ mess, or the messes of troopers who “did a trot.” The bottom of the bottle is knocked out by insistent but vigorous tapping with the marlin-spike of a jack-knife till a hole is broken through, and then the rest is chipped off in small instalments till the end is quite out. The candle is then pared at the bottom end to fit the slope of the bottle neck, and a deep groove gouged in it, the candle, to admit air. Apply a match to the candle, drop it into the inverted bottle, and there is your light. If it is not very windy, of course, all that is necessary is to drop some melted grease on someone else’s tin hat, and stick the candle in it; simple, isn’t it?

There are a few of the lesser Edisons who eliminate disturbance by wind by curling a legging around the candle; but only a very narrow chink of light exudes from its gaping edges, and the odour of singeing leather is not pleasant.

One of the finest ideas was a combination of the slushie and the bottle-o. A squat chutney-bottle that fitted snugly into a toffee tin, was found, and the quality and steadiness of the light generated made drawn filament look painfully experimental. Some wire tibbin bands secure the “globe” to the body, at the same time forming a handle.

The designs, elaborations and embellishments of the original idea are practically numberless; they range from the primitive cremation of a religious aunt’s epistles and incriminating love effusions up to the princely slushie-cum-bottle-o; and they radiate in all classes of bivvies, and shed their glory on the tangle of the newly erected as brightly as on the white-stoned splendour of the resident.

With these remarks, and any necessary apologies to the Dinkum Military Scribe, I shall leave them to shine on the just and the unjust, like their mighty lord, the Sun.

“SARG.”

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DEFENCES IN THE GHORANIYEH BRIDGEHEAD

THE BRICKMAKER

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A TYPICAL ARAB VILLAGE

4th LIGHT HORSE BRIGADE WATERING HORSES AT THE JORDAN

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