South African War, 1899-1902 -- Personal narratives
Yesterday was hot and windy, but, beyond one incident, uneventful. Late
in the day indigo, watery-looking clouds in the west caused some of us
to erect blanket shelters for the coming night, and when the evening
having come, a flash of lightning and a distant peal of thunder,
followed by a few spatters of rain, heralded what was to come, we wise
virgins (pardon the simile) huddled in our booby hutches (unfortunately
_without_ lamps) and congratulated ourselves on our astuteness. Soon it
came, the lightning flashing, the thunder crashing, the rain pouring,
and lastly the wind blowing a perfect tornado. The various jerry-built
domiciles stood it well for some time, then the hutch behind us was
blown down, and we in ours roared with glee; then another went, and
finally the wind, not being able to get at us by a frontal attack, took
us on the flank, and up blew one blanket, and the rifles at the ends
wavered. Then, with cries of "Close the water-tight compartments," "Man
the pumps," "Launch the lifeboat," "Where's the rocket apparatus?" and
such-like remarks, as used by those in peril on the sea, we came out and
joined in the fun. The horses, seeing us all about, thought it must be
_reveille_, and started neighing and pawing the ground, expecting their
grub. We were soon inside again under jury-rigging, and went off to
sleep to the shouts of "Stable guard, here's a horse loose!" "Stable
guard, here are three horses walking over us!" and the reply, "All
right, I'm coming round in the captain's dinghy," or some such
rejoinder. I could not help smiling when one of our fellows, in response
to a cry of "Buck up, boys of the bull-dog breed!" remarked, "Hang it,
they don't even give us kennels." In the small hours of the morning our
hutch collapsed again, and with the blanket on my side supported mainly
on my nose, I heedlessly slumbered on. At _reveille_ the greeting we
gave one another was "Oh, what a night!" The Roughs were in a
particularly happy frame of mind, though they had slept in the open, for
their officers' tent had come down, also their sergeants', and the
remarks of the former, "Aw, Frisby, have you got that wope?" "Where's
that beastly peg?" "Heah, give me the hammah," "Isn't it awful?" had
been most soothing to them. Although I did my best to protect my few
remaining envelopes, I have just discovered three of them to be well
gummed down. One thing must be said to the credit of the rain, _it has
laid the dust_, and that is no small matter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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