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WAR'S BRIGHTER SIDE

CHAPTER I
The Birth of "The Friend"

Showing how it was Fathered by a Field Marshal, sponsored by a Duke and three Lords, and given over to four certificated male nurses.

We reached Bloemfontein with men who had done extraordinary marching, fighting, and feats of exposure and privation. Some of the troops, notably the Guards, had walked more than thirty (more than forty, if I am not mistaken) miles in one of the three days' continuous marching. Many had fought at Jacobsdahl, Paardeberg, and Driefontein, not to speak of lesser actions at Waterval Drift and Poplar Grove.

During at least the last week of this almost unprecedented military performance the army had been reduced to less than half rations. We were very short of food for beasts as well as men. We had lost a large number of transport waggons, with their contents and the animals that drew them, and we had put the torch to two great hillocks of food which we could not take with us beyond Paardeberg. All our four-footed helpers were spent, hundreds of horses were ill, hundreds of bodies of others were lying along our wake upon the veldt, with flocks of glutted, yet still gluttonous, aasvogels feeding upon their flesh.

Worse, far worse than all else combined, the dreadful microbes of enteric had entered the blood of thousands of the soldiers, who had found no other water to drink than that of the pestilential Modder River which carried along and absorbed the bodies of men and horses as well as the filth of the camps of both the Boers and ourselves.

We had done as the Boers had said we never would do—as only one man of their forces (Villebois-Mareuil) had foreseen that a great general like Lord Roberts must be certain to do: we had left the railway and swept across the open veldt for one hundred miles, from Jacobsdahl and Kimberley to Bloemfontein. For warning his brusque and opinionated commander-in-chief, Cronje, that we would do this, Cronje insulted the brilliant Frenchman grossly, and bade him keep his idiotic notions to himself. But we had done it, and Cronje had lost his army and his liberty for failing to heed the warning. At Bloemfontein we came upon the steam highway once more, but to the south of Bloemfontein it was wrecked at many points, while to the northward it was in the enemy's country and control.

There was therefore nothing for us but to rest. Yet how heroically we had worked to make rest necessary! How well we had earned the right to enjoy rest if we had been of the temper to desire it! In one month under the great Field Marshal we had gone further and accomplished more than all the other British armies had done in nearly six months. We had won over the eagles of victory to perch upon our standards. We had freed Ladysmith and Kimberley, drawn the Boers away from the Cape Colony border, captured the best army and leading general of our foes, and were encamped around Bloemfontein with President Steyn's Residency in use as our headquarters.

The manner in which four of the war correspondents first learned that we were not to push on to the northward in an effort to seize the Transvaal capital, but were to halt at Bloemfontein, was most peculiar. It was so peculiar as to have led to the establishment of the first newspaper ever conducted by an army for an army on the field of battle. It was so unique an episode that this volume is published to commemorate and explain it; and I trust that no one who reads this will decide that it was not an episode worthy of an even more marked, substantial, and valuable memorial than I possess the talent to construct.

We entered Bloemfontein on March 13th. Two days later I was asked by Mr. F. W. Buxton, of the Johannesburg Star, to attend a meeting of some other correspondents and Lord Stanley in Lord Stanley's office on that day. I had caught up with the army by a dangerous journey with only two companions across the veldt from Kimberley, where an injury to my leg had laid me up. I had reported myself to Lord Stanley, the censor. I had previously carried on some correspondence with him, but our personal acquaintance had not been of more than five minutes' duration. I could not, therefore, know at that time that he was to prove himself the most competent of all the censors appointed to supervise the work of us correspondents. In saying that he was the "most competent" I mean that he ranked above all the others in every quality which goes to make up fitness for this unceasing and exacting work. He had quick intelligence, great breadth of judgment, unfailing courtesy, unbroken patience, and all the modesty of a truly able man.

Hardly can the average reader estimate the degree of satisfaction with which we correspondents came quickly to realise the admirable qualities of this first and only fair and considerate censor that most of us had known in the war. At one place we knew a censor who read the letters which came to officers and privates from their wives in England, and who used to regale his chance acquaintances with comparisons between the sterling virtues and deep affection of the letters to Tommy, and the colder, more selfish, and even querulous messages of the wives of officers.

At another place we had a censor who obliged us to hand to him our letters to our wives and sweethearts unsealed, and in one case this censor kept for twenty-four hours a letter I had written to my family.

Still another censor showered his contempt upon certain correspondents who, in every way which goes to make up refinement, self-respect, and dignity, were many times better men than he. It amused him to take the despatches of a Colonial lad, who was doing his best to enter upon an honourable career, and throw them in his waste basket daily for ten days without informing the youth of their fate. It pleased him to insult me by telling me that the only message I could send to England must be a description of a sandstorm; while to Mr. E. F. Knight, a man Lord Methuen said he "was proud to have with his army," this censor said, "There is only one thing I will allow you to write—that is, a description of a new Union Jack which has just been run up over the headquarters."

With such ill-chosen, mistaken men had we undergone experiences, and now, at last, we met with Lord Stanley, who had the most intense likes and dislikes for those around him, yet never let these hinder or temper his unvarying fairness; who was as firm as iron and yet always gentle; a stout, strong, stalwart man in build, hearty and kindly in manner; a man who took command as easily and exercised it as smoothly as if he had been a general at birth.

I speak of him at some length not merely because his case proves that the one well-equipped censor appointed in the armies on the west side of the continent was a civilian, and not only because this one competent censor gave equally complete satisfaction to both the Army and the Press, but because he assumed a conspicuous and important part in the story I am telling.

His office was as nearly literally a hole in a wall as a room in a house could well be. It was in the corner of the Free State Post Office building, facing the great central square of dirt, in the middle of which stood the market, under whose open shed the mounted men of the City Imperial Volunteers lived among their saddles and bridles, and slept on the tables of the greengrocers, whose place this once had been. On the Post Office side of the square was the Free State Hotel, the best in the town. On the opposite side, an eighth of a mile away, was the Club. Between the two ends ran a double row of such