campaign, at Modder River, Stormberg, the Tugela, and even inside
Ladysmith and Mafeking spies have been repeatedly captured and shot.
Some of the attempts by civilians to get through De Aar without adequate
authorisation were quite amusing. I remember a particularly nice Swedish
officer arriving one night, equipped after the most approved fashion of
military accoutrements--Stohwasser leggings, spurs, gloves, etc., but
his papers were not sufficient for his purpose, and charm he never so
wisely, the camp commandant politely but firmly compelled him to return
to Richmond Road, which lay just outside the pale of military law.
Another gentleman, well known in England, failed in his first effort to
penetrate the camp on his way northwards, but succeeded finally in
reaching De Aar by going up as an officer's servant!

The run from De Aar to Belmont is about 100 miles. The ambulance train
arrived there on the evening of the battle, and the staff on board
found plenty of work ready for them. The wounded men were all placed
together in a large goods' shed at the station. They lay as they were
taken from the field by the stretcher-bearers. Lint and bandages had
been applied, but, of course, uniforms, bodies and even the floor were
saturated with blood. Such spectacles are not pleasing, but nobody ever
thinks about the unaesthetic side of the picture when busily engaged in
helping the wounded. "The gentleman in khaki," poor fellow, has often
precious little khaki left on him by the time he reaches the base
hospital. When the femoral artery is shot through one does not waste
time by thinking of the integrity of a pair of trousers--a few rips of
the knife and away goes a yard or two of khaki. If the cases had not
been so sad we should often have laughed at the extraordinary appearance
of some of the men. One soldier, for example, was brought into our train
with absolutely nothing on him except one sleeve, which he seemed to
treasure for the sake of comparative respectability! Wounded men