The Capture of Boomerang Trench is a poem by W. F. Rollo, dedicated to all ranks of the 1st Border Regiment.
Crouched down in the shelter of the trench,
While mortars shelled their way,
And naval might screaming thro' the air,
The Border fighters lay
In eager expectation, while
Red was their spirits sang,
For theirs the honour of the day -
To win the Boomerang!
Like pack of hounds they strained the leash,
And while commands rang out,
Like pack of hounds they raced to gain
The Boomerang Redoubt;
No chance the Turkish rifle fire
To stay their swift career
Across the hundred yards of scrub,
Or quell their frenzied cheer.
They swept the foe from parapet,
From round each maxim grin,
And hardly in their fury paused
When bullet touched a limb,
With butt and bayonet they slew
In onslaught none could face,
And cheered again, as in dismay
The foeman fled the place.
Tho' fierce the fight, so brief the same,
That they who watched behind
Scarce thought the thrilling deed was o'er
Its like seemed hard to find,
For when the Borders left their trench,
Few minutes scarce had run
Till their victorious shout proclaimed
The Boomerang was won.
—L/Cpl. W. F. Rollo, Stray Shots from the Dardanelles
References / notes
- Chambers, Stephen, Gallipoli - Gully Ravine, Battleground Europe, 2003, p.86. ISBN 0 85052 923 9
- Original source: Stray Shots from the Dardanelles, A collection by Lance Corporal W.F. Rollo dedicated to All Ranks of the 1st Battalion the Border Regiment, The Gallipolian, No.46, Christmas 1984, p.17.