Fantasy fiction; Imaginary wars and battles -- Fiction; War stories
They were let go simply because they were not
worth keeping as prisoners, and perhaps to kill any living thing
without cause went against the _hauptmann’s_ sense of justice. But
why speak of this insult in particular? Had not every man who lived
then his tale to tell of humiliation and degradation? For it was the
same story everywhere. After the first stand in line, and when once
they had got us on the march, the enemy laughed at us. Our handful of
regular troops was sacrificed almost to a man in a vain conflict with
numbers; our volunteers and militia, with officers who did not know
their work, without ammunition or equipment, or staff to superintend,
starving in the midst of plenty, we had soon become a helpless mob,
fighting desperately here and there, but with whom, as a manœuvring
army, the disciplined invaders did just what they pleased. Happy those
whose bones whitened the fields of Surrey; they at least were spared
the disgrace we lived to endure. Even you, who have never known what
it is to live otherwise than on sufferance, even your cheeks burn when
we talk of these days; think, then, what those endured who, like your
grandfather, had been citizens of the proudest nation on earth, which
had never known disgrace or defeat, and whose boast it used to be that
they bore a flag on which the sun never set! We had heard of generosity
in war; we found none: the war was made by us, it was said, and we
must take the consequences. London and our only arsenal captured, we
were at the mercy of our captors, and right heavily did they tread on
our necks. Need I tell you the rest?--of the ransom we had to pay, and
the taxes raised to cover it, which keep us paupers to this day?--the
brutal frankness that announced we must give place to a new naval
Power, and be made harmless for revenge?--the victorious troops living
at free quarters, the yoke they put on us made the more galling that
their requisitions had a semblance of method and legality? Better have
been robbed at first hand by the soldiery themselves, than through
our own magistrates made the instruments for extortion. How we lived
through the degradation we daily and hourly underwent, I hardly even
now understand. And what was there left to us to live for? Stripped of
our colonies; Canada and the West Indies gone to America; Australia
forced to separate; India lost for ever, after the English there had
all been destroyed, vainly trying to hold the country when cut off from
aid by their countrymen; Gibraltar and Malta ceded to the new naval
Power; Ireland independent and in perpetual anarchy and revolution.
When I look at my country as it is now--its trade gone, its factories
silent, its harbours empty, a prey to pauperism and decay--when I
see all this, and think what Great Britain was in my youth, I ask
myself whether I have really a heart or any sense of patriotism that I
should have witnessed such degradation and still care to live! France
was different.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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