The record-union. [volume] (Sacramento, Calif.) 1891-1903, 1897-08-05
JENKINS OF THE SD.

wasn't a man who didn't curse.
The brown water we had was warm.
1t seemed our clothing worked up our
backs, and stopped there. My tongue
felt as though it were as big as an
egg; my head throbbingly ached just
as if there was an iron band about it,
and all the time we had to push on
over the soft sand, with the officers
yelling US to keep the square, the cam
els screaming as only Sudanese camels
can scream, and overhead the blaze Of
the scorching African sun trying to set
US on fire. while away up the baked
rocks we could discern the dervishes
skipping about and occasionally waving
the green flag Of the Prophet.
You've seen pictures of an army go
ing into battle-the bands playing, the
banners fiuttering, the men marching
in solid lines the officers on careering
horses and with drawn swords.
Well, we didn't look anything like
that. There was no band and no flag.
We were all too mad with the heat to
even keep step, and were scattered
about like a lot of heaters at cours-
ing match Most of us had our jack
cts open, and some of US stuck dirty
red cotton handkerchiefs under the he'll
NETS to ward off the sun. And our
clothes were torn and dusty, our boots
were brown and hard; none of us had
shaved for a month, and for the last
three days there hadn't been a drop of
water to wash up.
There was no talk about the glory of
fighting. We didn't care hang about
victory, or England, or Queen. That's
oil rio III
give us when we get home after the
campaign.
Ward was Tuning about blister he
had on his heel, and wondering why
the hangment we couldn't form where
We We're, and let the Sudanese come to
us.
Little Jenkins was in funk.
IT'S not as I'm thinkin I'll be shot"
he said but my knees are just as
shaky as an old nag's. I'm blessed if
/ can go much further Lor', I'd give
a weeks pay for a 'alf pint. Do you
feel dizzy like, Fletcher"
"Oh, dry up!" I said.
/ was wild with the agony of march
ing, the blasts of sand that met us, the
shouting, the cursing when the gun
carriages stuck
This ere fightin's a rum 'un," he
added hoarsely. Would yer rather
be killed wi bullet or a spear, Fetch
er?'
I'm not gofn' to be killed at ALL" 1
growled. Look out!'
One of the mules appeared as if it had
gone mad, for it began jumping and
shrielzing, and the whip only made it
worse.
We knew the great mass of the en-
envy was about two miles ahead. We
could see them bobbing about among
the rocks.
Away on our right, over broken
ground and burnt bushwood. were
about fifty of them popping at US from
behind boulders. But the shots fell
short, although we were marching
nearer them.
Soon there came a singing swish
through the air. Every man who heard
1t ducked his head. We looked at each
other and grimly smiled.
That blOke amt much of =, shot 4"
said Ward; he fires too high"
Then there started more bullets
whizzing
Open out, men; confound you! why
don't you open out?'' roared the Col
onel, who was following up behind the
face of the square
We scattered d bit, but not much
Everybody seemed to be in everybody
else's way.
what an ass to put us under fire
like this!" some one shouted a little
way down the line
A bullet caught a camel in the rump
trio
And then it tumbled It's eyes flashed
with fright as had never seen a cam
els eyes fash
I guess" said Jenkins, who was
. trembling, 'ft 'ud be best to get
wipe in the arm first. Then one 'ud
be able to get inside tn ambulance"
You beastly little shrimp" yelled
Ward, who was on the other side:
dye want to slximp it?''
The bullets began dropping amongst
us.
There's no use denying it: I was
scared. It was a miserable sort of way
playing at war. When heard one
of the men down the line groan as his
cheek was torn up and saw another
tumble with his face downwards, and
commence biting the sand when his
thigh was ripped open it was difficult
for me to breathe.
L never saw such excitement The
officers rushed about shouting until we
didn't know what to do. Yet we kept
moving forward over the hillocks of
sand, our lips cracked, our eyes burn
ing and glazing like balls of fire, swear
ing at one another, and all swearing
at the cowardly niggers sheltering be-
yond the boulders.
What time is it now at Knights
BRIDGE" asked Jenkins, his thin little
face, twitching.
Same time as it is at London
Bridge" 1 retorted with an oath.
Look here, Fletcher, if I'm killed,
will my name be put in the papers?''
, Shut up; you're too little to hit"
'FCause," he said, I've a gal who's
a slavey, an'-an'-"
We both saw Ward double up. He
had been hit in the stomach. He drop
ped his rifle and looked around as if
he wanted to clutch hold of something.
Then a terrible grin spread over his
features and he began running like a
drunken man. He hadn't gone more
than four steps when he Topped in a
heap.
Two of the men turned him over.
He was dead.
All the perspiration seemed to jump
out of me and I shivered It just felt
Don't Go t,