Western Mail, Thursday 20 July 1933, page 2
Prisoners of War.
The-average Turkish prisoner was a humorous individual. He generally had a smiling face; instead of the surly scowl of the German. One prisoner captured at Rafa, in Palestine, laughed as he said to his guard, ''You Australian birds, same Gallipoli." Of course, "Abdul" was referring to the emu plumes.
Another "Jacko," captured at Maghdaba was brought into an Aussie camp after, the battle. As he looked a harmless old chap, he was not closely confined. Wandering around the bivvies he saw several of the lads playing cards. The stakes, which were lying on an outspread oil-sheet, were mostly half piastrs. "Jacko" watched the game for or a time, and then, seating himself among the players, produced from some portion of his ragged uniform several five-piastre Turkish notes, and volunteered to take a hand, in the game. The notes being considered as souvenirs, the boys raised no objections, but "Jacko" was not a skilled player, and soon lost his roll. When his last note had changed bands, he arose with a smile, and strolled down the lines. Ten minutes later, he was one of a circle sharing a tin of bully.
One of tho padres put in some fine work attending to the wounded during the second attack on Gaza. He was bending over a man who had been badly hit by shrapnel, and, looking up suddenly, he was surprised to see a well-dressed Turkish officer standing beside him. The padre did not know how to take the presence of the Turk, but continued to dress the wounded man. Presently the voice of the officer startled him. Said that individual in excellent English: "I think it would be a good idea to get this man to the dressing station as soon as possible. His wounds are very serious, and I've a hole here that wants attending to as well." The padre then noticed that the Turk's coat sleeve was saturated with blood. Between the two of them, they managed to carry the wounded man to the dressing station, where both casualties were attended to.
During the same battle the staff of a certain, headquarters was surprised to see a Turkish officer, with a valise in his hand, walk into the tent. "Where the dickens have you sprung from?" asked a Light Horse officer.' The Turk placed his valise on the ground, slowly wiped his face with a handkerchief, and said: "Just left our redoubt; it's too hot for me. Someone else can carry on with the work."
There was a yarn about a Turkish prisoner who was captured in the Jordan Valley. As he was being marched to headquarters he asked one of the guards, "Where I go to?" "Cairo," was the reply. "It’s a pity," said "Jacko." “I thought they might send me to Australia. I always did want to go to that country. My brother lives there.