The History of Lumsden's Horse: A Complete Record of the Corps from Its Formation to Its Disbandment
History
The History of Lumsden's Horse: A Complete Record of the Corps from Its Formation to Its Disbandment
Great Britain. Army. Lumsden's Horse; South African War, 1899-1902 -- Regimental histories -- Great Britain
What a ghastly night it was! They passed us in a small kettleful of
coffee that ran to about half a mug per man. We were dreadfully
thirsty, but the only water was a single water-bottleful between the
crowd of us—they said there was no more available. For solids we had
the remains of the rusks. On this slender nourishment we had to recoup
our jaded bodies and revive our flagging spirits. Needless to say, in
the morning we looked and felt but sorry representatives of Queen and
country. At daylight we were cleared out of that room, the taste of
which will remain with me until the day I die. The effect on us of the
cold clean air outside was indescribable. We blew ourselves out with
it like pouter pigeons, and nearly dropped down from shock to the
system. We breathed the good air till we forgot to be hungry, thirsty,
or even ashamed of our lamentable plight. The surging of it through
our corrupted lungs was better than—but that would be departing from
the plain unvarnished style with which the soldier man is allowed to
embellish his narrative in lieu of literary grace.
We were popped into a waiting train the carriages of which for
narrowness and hardness were like coffins without the compensating
immunity from pain and trouble so characteristic of the ordinary
coffin. That we might fit in easily they gave us nothing to eat or
drink, and when the train started we rattled about our compartment
like dried peas in a drum. To see us off the station was crowded with
all sorts and conditions of the human race. It was astonishing to
realise that the throat of man was so constituted that it could be
used to emit sounds which were nothing like anything we had ever heard
before. I heard a hundred High Court chaprassies hold the concert in
which their champion sang a solo in so raucous a voice that it caused
the great crack which now ornaments the Calcutta High Court building.
But it was nothing to Smaldeel station! Take a Boer who has lived on
the high veldt of the Transvaal with his next-door neighbour four
miles off, and bring him into a space where his conversation has to
carry for feet instead of miles, and you are overwhelmed by his voice.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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