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It was a very effective scene； and it occurred to me that THIS
was 〃the rooibaatjees singing on the road；〃 as the song says。
The next entry is from South Africa：
Green Point Camp； Capetown；
February 25th； 1900。
You have no idea of the WORK。 Section commanders live with their sections；
which is the right way。 It makes long hours。 I never knew a softer bed
than the ground is these nights。 I really enjoy every minute
though there is anxiety。 We have lost all our spare horses。
We have only enough to turn out the battery and no more。
After a description of a number of the regiments camped near by them；
he speaks of the Indian troops； and then says：
We met the High Priest of it all； and I had a five minutes' chat with him
Kipling I mean。 He visited the camp。 He looks like his pictures；
and is very affable。 He told me I spoke like a Winnipeger。
He said we ought to 〃fine the men for drinking unboiled water。
Don't give them C。B。； it is no good。 Fine them； or drive common sense
into them。 All Canadians have common sense。〃
The next letter is from the Lines of Communication：
Van Wyks Vlei；
March 22nd； 1900。
Here I am with my first command。 Each place we strike
is a little more God…forsaken than the last； and this place wins up to date。
We marched last week from Victoria west to Carnovan； about 80 miles。
We stayed there over Sunday； and on Monday my section was detached
with mounted infantry； I being the only artillery officer。
We marched 54 miles in 37 hours with stops； not very fast；
but quite satisfactory。 My horse is doing well； although very thin。
Night before last on the road we halted； and I dismounted for a minute。
When we started I pulled on the lines but no answer。 The poor old chap
was fast asleep in his tracks； and in about thirty seconds too。
This continuous marching is really hard work。 The men at every halt
just drop down in the road and sleep until they are kicked up again
in ten minutes。 They do it willingly too。 I am commanding officer；
adjutant； officer on duty； and all the rest since we left the main body。
Talk about the Army in Flanders！ You should hear this battalion。
I always knew soldiers could swear； but you ought to hear these fellows。
I am told the first contingent has got a name among the regulars。
Three weeks later he writes：
April 10th； 1900。
We certainly shall have done a good march when we get to the railroad；
478 miles through a country desolate of forage carrying our own transport
and one…half rations of forage； and frequently the men's rations。
For two days running we had nine hours in the saddle without food。
My throat was sore and swollen for a day or two； and I felt
so sorry for myself at times that I laughed to think how I must have looked：
sitting on a stone； drinking a pan of tea without trimmings；
that had got cold； and eating a shapeless lump of brown bread；
my one 〃hank〃 drawn around my neck； serving as hank and bandage alternately。
It is miserable to have to climb up on one's horse with a head
like a buzz saw； the sun very hot； and 〃gargle〃 in one's water bottle。
It is surprising how I can go without water if I have to on a short stretch；
that is； of ten hours in the sun。 It is after nightfall that the thirst
really seems to attack one and actually gnaws。 One thinks of all
the cool drinks and good things one would like to eat。 Please understand
that this is not for one instant in any spirit of growling。
The detail was now established at Victoria Road。 Three entries appear*：
* I only count two。 。 。 。 A。 L。； 1995。
April 23rd； 1900。
We are still here in camp hoping for orders to move； but they have
not yet come。 Most of the other troops have gone。 A squadron of the M。C。R。；
my messmates for the past five weeks； have gone and I am left an orphan。
I was very sorry to see them go。 They； in the kindness of their hearts；
say； if I get stranded； they will do the best they can to get a troop for me
in the squadron or some such employment。 Impracticable； but kind。
I have no wish to cease to be a gunner。
Victoria Road； May 20th； 1900。
The horses are doing as well as one can expect； for the rations
are insufficient。 Our men have been helping to get ready a rest camp near us；
and have been filling mattresses with hay。 Every fatigue party comes back
from the hospital； their jackets bulging with hay for the horses。
Two bales were condemned as too musty to put into the mattresses；
and we were allowed to take them for the horses。 They didn't leave
a spear of it。 Isn't it pitiful？ Everything that the heart of man and woman
can devise has been sent out for the 〃Tommies〃； but no one thinks
of the poor horses。 They get the worst of it all the time。 Even now
we blush to see the handful of hay that each horse gets at a feed。
The Boer War is so far off in time and space that a few further
detached references must suffice：
When riding into Bloemfontein met Lord 's funeral at the cemetery gates；
band； firing party； Union Jack； and about three companies。
A few yards farther on a 〃Tommy〃 covered only by his blanket；
escorted by thirteen men all told； the last class distinction
that the world can ever make。
We had our baptism of fire yesterday。 They opened on us from the left flank。
Their first shell was about 150 yards in front direction good。
The next was 100 yards over； and we thought we were bracketed。
Some shrapnel burst over us and scattered on all sides。
I felt as if a hail storm was coming down； and wanted to turn my back；
but it was over in an instant。 The whistle of a shell is unpleasant。
You hear it begin to scream； the scream grows louder and louder；
it seems to be coming exactly your way； then you realize
that it has gone over。 Most of them fell between our guns and wagons。
Our position was quite in the open。
With Ian Hamilton's column near Balmoral。
The day was cold； much like a December day at home； and by my kit going astray
I had only light clothing。 The rain was fearfully chilly。
When we got in about dark we found that the transport could not come up；
and it had all our blankets and coats。 I had my cape and a rubber sheet
for the saddle； both soaking wet。 Being on duty I held to camp；
the others making for the house nearby where they got poor quarters。
I bunked out； supperless like every one else； under an ammunition wagon。
It rained most of the night and was bitterly cold。 I slept at intervals；
keeping the same position all night； both legs in a puddle and my feet
being rained on： it was a long night from dark at 5。30 to morning。
Ten men in the infantry regiment next us died during the night from exposure。
Altogether I never knew such a night； and with decent luck hope never to see
such another。
As we passed we saw the Connaughts looking at the graves of their comrades
of twenty