Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1900-04-10
HORRORS OF THIRST
Awful Suffering of British Soldiers on
the Firing Line
DEPICTED BY A CORRESPONDENT
Tommy Atkins Could Only Lie Still
and Endure.
TO RISE MEANT DEATH

Correspondence of the Associated Press.
LONDON, March 31.-Everybody remem-
bers the famous picture of Thirst" which
portrays the gaunt, half-starved lion in the
midst Of the desert, tapping up the few re-
naming drops of moisture from an i'm
poverished pool.
A correspondent in the Morning Post tells
US that though the British soldier "has
thirsted in the thirsuest corners of the
globe, he admits the veldt to be fresh
experience Alden, India, Egypt, the Sou
dan! But here is something, not hotter, not
drier, not dl,stier, but less endurabie for
some reason. 1t is the. army and South At
RIGA together, no doubt, which is the cause,
for men who have lived in Kimberley, Jo-
hannesburg, Bloemfontein and Natal are
only now, while campaigning, acquiring the
experience. The army, with its incessant
tramping and the ceaseless fog of dust that
hangs about dts camps; and to that must be
added the compulsory life in the sun-the
sun at its hottest and driest hours-the alb
sence of shade, the parching suction of the
sand, which is bed, chair and table.
1T will be quite curious to live without
a water bottle slung about ones shoulder.
One can scarcely remember the day when
water was not regarded with reverence and
jealous envy when it could be made to run
clear continuous and unvalued by turn
OF the finger. Here, where one knows by
tired limbs the weight of what one drinks,
the thought of water flowing through pipes
seems a dream of paradise. And such
water! Water through which one could see,
which left no mud at the bottom of the
mug and did not stain what it was split on.
One remembers that in England they ana
lyze that kind Of water. Why, the water
we drink here is often too thick even to
filter. One cannot pump it through a
Berkfelt candle.
'At Ramolam there was big pond-what
was left Of moisture in the dam. One
h1t f1Ea1 univ 1,Syt
compulsion of cleanliness. The water was
very shallow, but the mud was black and
deep. One sank to the knees il one tried to
walk. and so sat gently, half In mud and
half IN brown syrup and thanked God for
water. One rose from it with the green
leeches hanging about ones body like bits
Of seaweed and with a sprinkling of less
known insects.
Horses looked askance at that pool but
the men drank of it greedily, and drank of
it. where alone they could reach it, where
the horses hoofs had churned it into a
blackish green liquor, thick soup"
Vignette From the battlefield.
Here Is a vignette from the field of bat
tie:
Twenty yards to the left man is lying
pressed fiat against the ground. He is very
much the ground color, and the occasional
whlrls over him have aided the disguise
There are little tufts Of withered scrub
which help to hide him. though but a few
incnes high. The sun has been blazing on
his back and the sand about him for seven
hours and the veldt wavers confusedly in
the glare Of the heat. rale blue lake of
mirage has formed about the furthcst
kopJes. and left them like dark islands in
the sky. Al
-, The he man on the left feels gingerly for
me TN bottle which lies under his left ell
DOW, MS fingers spread over its felt cover.
ing and gives it a gentle shake. The shake
Is re- and he begins to draw the
bott!e slowly under him, keeping his body
fiSldiy stiff The job is a long on.. becamse
the bottle strap catches in his accouter
ments, and he dare not move to free II
Mhen he has it at last beneath him he be-
gins 70 turn over, as slowly as he has done
an else. He lifts his foot a few inches ~
balance himself, and the next instant there
is a spit of dust from the sand beside him
10 Lot more tnan an arms length away. He
Keeps MS eyes on the mark the bullet has
mace, and remains for some moments &c
II II mad turned him to stone Then with q
more laborlous patience. he resumes Iis
.i-oyG h until at last he is on his back
ana has the bottle above him.
III holds only a few hot drons bu+ ho
.hought he had drained even them an
nour ago and his tongue is like a niece Of
t LUZ m, In ms mouth He got with a rush to
the place ne occupies about O'Clock in tho
morning, when q sudden crackle from the
river IN front of him laid the whole line
on Its face. where it has remained, with
p He ie an ,h serward. ever since.
alone, for the man next him after
chafhng at the Boer shooting for half an
hour' began suddenly ITO whimper, and has
been still ever since.
He failed himself to take the hulIets
humorously. but he grew used to them. til
one came between his face and the pr0und
ana struck his belt buckle. Then he cursed
them and was afraid, TIL he lost an otbnr
feelings in the awful sense Of thirst
Knows Action Continues.
He knnuo ha
FOR he can hear the steady pounding of a
battery from the hill behind him, and sud
denly scurrtes Of rifle fire beyond the river
to the left. He knows, too from those
hateful spits of dust that the Boer is stin
behind the bushes in front of him. hut the
ooer Is always behind something, and he
Is ufed of trying to shoot and being shot
az az by man whom he never sees Besides,
II ne hits his rife the dust begins to iump
again. and the rifle barrel Is scalding hot
the Varn1sh is sizzling on the stock as
.hough 1t stood before fire. and to touch
II seems to quicken his unbearable thirst
he tries to guess at the hour as tie sun
goes over and falls on his left side He
writes words in the sand with his fingers
ana rubs them out: bewilders an ant, which
runs with its bundle of food in front of
him; does anything he can to keep from
thinking of the maddening drouth within
NJ MIN What he really thinks of. God knows
I lay there blarsting them Beers so long a G
consciousness after eight hours of that kind
OF fighting. and his attitude was probably
characteristic. But cursng is not cool
work, and dries a man already drouthy
While still the crackle of fire comes from
the river and death stands before a drink
At last. while there are still some three
hours of daylight. the patter of rifles along
the dongas on the further bank grows more
and more hurried, till it runs into a con-
tinuous roll A last determined disastrous
attempt Is being made to push back the
enemy's right. The Seaforths, Cornwalls
and Canadians. mixed together, are clam
bering, leaping. laundering forward across
the deep intricate channels of the donga
beds.
But the man on the other side of the
river only knows of what is going forward
by the swell and spread of the fire Five
! minutes and it has sunk again to the snap,
snap of solitary rifles. What has happened
Whose the bodies in those pits of
death? Where is the enemy and where the
friend? He has not the least idea. If
things have gone well there will be fresh
orders probably; but no orders come.
Twelve Hours Under Fire.
Eat o'clock he has been twelve hours
under fire; his last meal was biscuit, fif-
teen hours back, when he had fallen in at
3 o'clock in the morning, after marching