Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1932-06-05
Trail

HERE are many ways of becoming a
journalist. You may be the owner of
an hOnored name which Is attractive
to those who believe that people NOV
ing in the best society must know
most You may have written dis
tinguished books at very early age and have
given the public a very proper impression that
you have something to say that is worth hear
ing whether it is in the form of a novel or an
article or you may just take up journalism
as a profession and, starting at the bottom,
work up as far as you can. Let it be clearly
understood that 1 have kick against the
loFdy journalists.
I came into journalism in curious way.
started my career when was private soldier
by contributing poems to the Cape Times,
a newspaper, edited by Edmond Garrett and
published at Cape Town, South Africa. When
L say poems 1 mean they were poems to
me. whatever they were to somebody else.
had just discovered Kipling and I was, I
thought, an imitator of his style. l discovered
later that imitator of what thought
was his style. / was influenced by Kipling and
men like Maurice Hewlett, and writer's like
Quiller-Couch, who to my mind, in Dead Mans
Rock" wrote the best thriller that has ever
been written He definitely shaped my career
as a writer of mystery stories.
These verses which were accepted gave me
a taste Of journalism, which have never lost,
and though my actual prose contributions In
council meetings and to long and fierce argu-
ments about drainage schemes and bad lighting
of new roads 1 read and re-read every line
that was printed and found it good.
"A /HEN the South African broke out I
w had left the army and had established
something Of a local reputation as writer.
I do not think 1t was as big reputation as /
imagined but when one is very young one
takes rather eXtravagant view of ones own
importance. At any rate, it was sufficient to
suggest to the head OF Reuters, who
the lookout for man to send to the front to
represent his agency to invite me to call on
him. and with hundred pounds in my pocket
"a sum which to me represented most fabu-
lous fortune-I took a train that night to
place called Nauwpoort. beyond De Aar. and
made that my headquarters for a few weeks
I was so recently released from the army
and was such new civilian that I found my
chief difficulty was in preventing myself from
saluting officers and groveling in front OF
generals Fortunately, there were generals
in the immediate neghborhood, but there
a sort Of general in place called Colesberg. I
went in an armored car to interview this parti-
cular general, who really only colonel.
and who was holding incredibly long front
with an unbelievably small force.
do not think shall ever forget that morn
ing when climbed down from the armored
train and crossed the veldt to the general
headquarters. l was invited inside There
were two men sitting at a table and each had
a modest drink before him. The general, who,
1 said, was colonel with an acting rank,
invited me to sit down. His name was French:
he afterward commanded the British Army in
the World War. He introduced me to his COM
panion. You know my chief staff officer,
Maj. Douglas Haig?" he asked
It was curious meeting with the two men
who later both destined to command
one of the greatest armies ever put into the
field. There, in lonely stretch of the veldt,
controlling just a handful Of men and bat
terry couple of batteries Of guns they
were holding a position which they could not
possibly have held if the Beers had shown
the least enterprise.
do not propose boring you with story
of the South African all the person.
ahtes with whom one was brought into con-
tact-Col., now Lord Plume-, imper-
turbabe figure with monocle that never left
his eye; Kitchener, little Lord Roberts, to
name few.
As look back that adventurous period,
the adventure which stands out above all
others followed fight we had with De Wet.
1t was small potatoes, if We judge battles by
modern standards, but we did send De Wet
flying, captured three Of his guns and made
a number of prisoners. After the fight wrote
account of the action and rode to the
nearest railway station, which about Is
miles, in order to send my dispatch to London.
A S I came to the outskirts of the little town
OF which the station was the center be-
came mpeasanty aware that somebody was
shooting at me. I was conscious of the curl
GUS click-clock that a rifle makes when it is
being fired in your direction. The shots came
from little kopje on the side Of the road.
The nearest way to the kopje seemed to
afford the maximum of cover, SO I rode as
fast as could, my heart in my mouth in the