The Young Dragoon: Every Day Life of a SoldierDrayson, Alfred W. (Alfred Wilks)
History
The Young Dragoon: Every Day Life of a Soldier
Drayson, Alfred W. (Alfred Wilks)
Soldiers -- Juvenile fiction
The detachment to which I belonged was despatched to Dudley, so as to be
in readiness to aid the civil power in the Staffordshire Potteries. We
were there upwards of three weeks, and never slept in bed; some of our
horses were kept ready saddled, and we could have turned out the whole
fully equipped in "field order" any time at a few minutes' notice. No
part of a soldier's duty is more disagreeable than to be called out to
quell a riot. To fire upon, ride down, or cut down with the sabre,
indiscriminately, any individual that may come within reach, is a
proceeding exceedingly repugnant to the feelings of a British soldier;
therefore it was with no very pleasureable feelings that we one day
noticed a mounted policeman ride hurriedly up to the Stork Hotel, where
the commanding officer of the detachment was staying, and in a few
moments afterwards the trumpeter sounded "Turn out the whole." We
rapidly formed; the command was given, "Threes right," and off we
marched at a swinging trot to the place indicated, a town some miles
distant, where we found the house-tops literally swarming with human
beings, who had ripped the tiles from the roofs to throw at the police
and a small troop of yeomanry cavalry, who were totally surrounded by
the mob, and getting by far the worst of it, no orders having been given
by the civil authorities for the yeomanry to fire; which, indeed, it is
questionable whether they could have performed with safety to
themselves. As fast as the police arrested any of the mob, they were
rescued. The road, or rather street, by which we approached the
market-place (a wide thoroughfare) was crammed full of the most
lawless-looking ruffians--men and women--it was ever my lot to see
together, before or since, in England; they were all armed with sticks,
pikes, stones, and some had old guns too, which they now and then
fired--more from bravado, I should imagine, than from any intent to
kill. The sea of human faces and glistening eyes were turned full upon
us as we swept at a rapid trot round a corner into full view of the
yelling, screaming mass.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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