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Western Mail, Thursday 29 March 1933, page 2
THE AFTERMATH OF WAR.
A well known digger identity from Campion, was recently in town on business. It was during the heat wave, and the accumulated dust in his gullet called for removal, in time-honoured manner. Repairing to a popular rendezvous for the purpose, he approached the bar and became aware of a collection of thirsty and clamorous youths, demanding; in insistent tones, "Give us a Campion!"
Hearing the name of his home town intrigued his interest, and the continual petition caused him to suspect that the situation required elucidation. It occurred to him, too, that he was being made the butt for witticism; a state of affairs not meeting with his unqualified approval. Barging in with a direct frontal attack, he demanded to know the strong of it all. "You’ve got a hell of a lot to say about Campion, haven't you, Cobber? Don't remember ever having seen you there, either," he said, addressing the most vociferous of the party.
His hostile maimer reacted upon the pugnacious instincts of those addressed, and the situation immediately became fraught with possibilities, it was only when the bar-tender came to the rescue by explaining, that the tension relaxed. "It’s all right, Dig. They're not slinging off at you,” he said. “Since the war up your way they always call Emu beer ‘Campion.'”
Much mollified the old battler dived down south and the resultant expressions of goodwill were the real reason of the train "leaving before time." as he explained to his wife upon his return home a day overdue.
R. Powell, 19 Rae-street, Leederville.