Reading about Australians in World War 1, I have come across the following anecdote several times. In the battle of Ypres, Lieutenant P. King of the 2/5th Battalion, East Lancashire Regiment, and ‘‘a small left-over of his company’’ were trapped in a bomb-hole in No Man’s Land. Under constant fire for two days and nights, the feeling was growing that they had been left for dead.

Wrote Lieutenant King: ‘‘Suddenly, to my great surprise, I heard voices behind me and I looked back and there were three very tall figures, and one was actually smoking. I could hardly speak for astonishment. I said, ‘Who the hell are you? And put that cigarette out, you’ll draw fire!’ He just looked back at me. ‘Well, come to that, who are you?’. I said, ‘I’m Lieutenant King of the 2/5th East Lancashire Regiment.’ At which he said: ‘Well, we’re the Aussies, chum, and we’ve come to relieve you.’ And they jumped down into the shell-hole.

‘‘Well, naturally, we were delighted, but of course there are certain formalities you’ve always got to carry out when you hand over, and I was a bit worried about that. So I explained, ‘There are no trenches to hand over, no rations, no ammunition, but I have got a map. Do you need any map references?’ He said, ‘Never mind about that, chum. Just f--- off.’

‘‘They didn’t seem to be a bit bothered. The last I saw of them they were squatting down, rifles over their shoulders, and they were smoking, all three of them.’’

I love stories like that. Lots of Australians do. They express the independent spirit of Australians at that time and, to some extent, it still exists today. I have a son-in-law, a former coal miner, who says he met plenty of blokes underground who were like that. Brave and blunt. I’ve met them, too – one, Warwick Green, was one of the best sports editors I ever had.