White Rocks

What were they thinking,
the two camel drivers,
who brought the war
to Broken Hill
under the Ottoman flag?

What were they thinking,
the two camel drivers,
in faded shirts and broken shoes,
with rusty guns,
firing on the miners’ picnic train?

What were they thinking,
surrounded by local militia,
when they went to ground
on the rocky outcrop
outside the desert town?

What were we thinking?
We ANZACS at Gallipoli,
of the war fought at Broken Hill;
fifty guns against
two camel drivers and their ice cream cart,
a legend lost in dust and wind.