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much amused by the tenacity with which one of the

publish 2022-06-02,browse 23
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much amused by the tenacity with which one of the sergeants clung to a jar of rum which he had rescued from the position.[12] at the wagon line collected the whole battery together, and while waiting went across to see the sergeantmajor in the dressingstation.am afraid, though it is nothing serious, that it will be a case of blighty for him.a very serious loss to the battery, as he has been absolutely invaluable throughout this show.[12] this jar was afterwards found to contain limejuice! marched to our old bivouac at the swampy wood, but were allotted a reasonable space outside it this time.fell into bed, beat to the world, at 3.30 a.m._july 19._much to do, though men and horses are tired to death.moved off at 6 p.m.and did a twentymile night march, arriving at another bivouac at 2 a.m.horses just about at their last gasp.poor old things, they have been in harness almost continuously throughout the battle bringing up load after load of ammunition at all hours of the day and night._july 20._took over a new position (trench warfare style) just out of the battle area as now constituted, and settled down torest.the above is an accurate, though, i fear, far too personal record of the doings of one particular unit during a fortnights continuous fighting.it is in no way an attempt to describe a battle as a whole.that is a feat beyond my powersand, i think, beyond the powers of any one actually engaged.thinking things over now, in the quiet of a wellmade dugout, i realise that the predominant impressions left upon my mind, in ascending order of magnitude so to speak, are: dirt, stink, horrors, lack of sleep, funkand the amazing endurance of the men.in the first article of this series i wrote: but this i know nowthe human material with which i have to deal is good enough.it is.i grant that our casualties were slight (though in this respect we were extremely lucky), and that compared with the infantry our task was the easier one of standing the strain rather than of facing the music.but still, think of the strain on the detachments, serving their guns night and day almost incessantly for fourteen days on end.in the first week alone we fired the amount of ammunition which suffices for a battery in peace time for thirty years! they averaged five hours sleep in the twentyfour, these men, throughout the time; and they dug three separate positionsall in heavy ground.nor must one forget the drivers, employed throughout in bringing up ammunition along roads pitted with holes, often shelled and constantly blocked with traffic.the new ubique begins to be worthy of the old.part ii and the old bilfred.fellowcreature i am, fellowservant of god: can man fathom gods dealings with us? oh! man! we, at least, we enjoy, with thanksgiving, gods gifts on this earth, though we look not beyond.you sin and you suffer, and we, too, find sorrow perchance through your sinyet it soon will be oer; we labour today and we slumber tomorrow, strong horse and bold rider! and who knoweth more? a.lindsay gordon.i in some equine elysium where there are neither flies nor dust nor steep hills nor heavy loads; where there is luscious young grass unlimited with cool streams and shady trees; where one can roam as one pleases and rest when one is tired: there, far from the racket of gun wheels on hard roads and the thunder of opposing artillery, oblivious of all the insensate folly of this warring human world, reposes, i doubt it not, the soul of bilfred.his was a humble part.he was never richly caparisoned with embroidered bridle and trappings of scarlet and gold.he never swept over the desert beneath some arab sheikh with the cry allah for all! ringing in his ears.he bore no general to victory, no king to his coronation.but he served his country faithfully, and in the end, when he had helped to make some history, he died for it.it is eight years since he joined the batterya woollycoated babyish remount straight from an irish dealers yard.examining him carefully we found that beneath his roughness he was not badly shaped; a trifle long in the back perhaps, and a shade too tallbut then perfection is not attainable at the government price.there was no denying that his head was plain and his face distinctly ugly.from his pink and flabby muzzle a broad streak of white ran upwards to his forehead, widening on the near side so as almost to reach his eye.the grotesquely lopsided effect of this was enhanced by a tousled forelock which straggled down between his ears.the question of naming him arose, and some one said, except for his face, which is like nothing on earth, hes the image of old alfred that we cast last year.now a system prevailed in the battery by which horses were called by names which began with the letter of their subsection.well, said some one else, hes been posted to b sub; why not call him bilfred? and bilfred he became.our roughrider at the time was a patient man, enthusiastic enough over his job to take endless trouble with young horses

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