Campaign Pictures of the War in South Africa (1899-1900): Letters from the Front — John Shaqi
Campaign Pictures of the War in South Africa (1899-1900): Letters from the FrontHales, A. G. (Alfred Greenwood)
History
Campaign Pictures of the War in South Africa (1899-1900): Letters from the Front
Hales, A. G. (Alfred Greenwood)
South African War, 1899-1902 -- Personal narratives
BLOEMFONTEIN HOSPITAL.
I little fancied when I sat at my ease in my tent in the British camp that
my next epistle would be written from a hospital as a prisoner, but such is
the case, and, after all, I am far more inclined to be thankful than to
growl at my luck. Let me tell the story, for it is typical of this peculiar
country, and still more peculiar war. I had been writing far into the
night, and had left the letter ready for post next day. Then, with a clear
conscience, I threw myself on my blankets, satisfied that I was ready for
what might happen next. Things were going to happen, but though the night
was big with fate there was no warning to me in the whispering wind. Some
men would have heard all sorts of sounds on such a night, but I am not
built that way I suppose. Anyway, I heard nothing until, half an hour
before dawn, a voice jarred my ear with the news that "there was something
on, and I'd better fly round pretty sharp if I did not mean to miss it."
By the light of my lantern I saddled my horse, and snatched a hasty cup of
coffee and a mouthful of biscuit, and as the little band of Tasmanians
moved from Rensburg I rode with them. Where they were going, or what their
mission, I did not know, but I guessed it was to be no picnic. The quiet,
resolute manner of the officers, the hushed voices, the set, stern faces of
the young soldiers, none of whom had ever been under fire before, all told
me that there was blood in the air, so I asked no questions, and sat tight
in my saddle. As the daylight broke over the far-stretching veldt, I saw
that two other correspondents were with the party, viz., Reay, of the
Melbourne _Herald_, and Lambie, poor, ill-fated Lambie, of the
_Melbourne Age_. For a couple of hours we trotted along without
incident of any kind, then we halted at a farmhouse, the name of which I
have forgotten. There we found Captain Cameron encamped with the rest of
the Tasmanians, and after a short respite the troops moved outward again,
Captain Cameron in command; we had about eighty men, all of whom were
mounted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account