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.