The Anzac club
Name: P.C., Through Magazine
Unit: Signals 8th Australian Division
The first time on leave - and in Singapore! I felt lost, hopelessly lost. All around reared buildings of varying architecture. This was the singapore of which I had read so much, and which I had often longed to explore.
It was different now. I knew nothing and no one. Even the great Australian initiative receives a jar when one is confronted by yelling richsha boys, and gesticulating vendors.
Suddenly I saw the name. The Anzac Club! An inward sigh of relief escaped. I crossed the road. For the first time I was in it.
I doubt whether I had any impressions. I only remember many smiling faces of white people, and for seven months I had seen very few white people, apart, of course, from our own chaps. Perhaps it was the sight of these smiling ladies which made the meal so enjoyable. One scarcely thought of the price, except it were to make a favourabl comparison with prices elsewhere.
After lunch there was the smoke, lounge and books - plenty of books. Here I wrote, read and slept the afternoon away while a cool breeze blew gently through the spacious building.
I go there often now. There is always that welcome smile, a cheerful word, and as one goes out those never-to-be-forgotten words confront him -
And very proud amid the crowd,
Are those whose family tree,
Has a tap root in an ancient steep
On far Gallipoli
It is only then that you realise fully that it is your club.
Published in the first edition of Through, the official journal of Signals 8th Australian Division in Singapore, December 1941.
The material for this article was supplied by Mrs E.A. Quick of South Australia