mechanism. I only had a day or two here, and then I was sent by train in an
ambulance carriage to the capital of the Orange Free State, and here I am
in Bloemfontein Hospital. There are a lot of our wounded here, both
officers and men, some of whom have been here for months.

I have made it my business to get about amongst the private soldiers, to
question them concerning the treatment they have received since the moment
the Mauser rifles tumbled them over, and I say emphatically that in every
solitary instance, without one single exception, our countrymen declare
that they have been grandly treated. Not by the hospital nurses only, not
by the officials alone, but by the very men whom they were fighting. Our
"Tommies" are not the men to waste praise on any men unless it is well
deserved, but this is just about how "Tommy" sums up the situation:

"The Boer is a rough-looking beggar in the field, 'e don't wear no uniform,
'nd 'e don't know enough about soldiers' drill to keep himself warm, but 'e
can fight in 'is own bloomin' style, which ain't our style. If 'e'd come
out on the veldt, 'nd fight us our way, we'd lick 'im every time, but when
it comes to fightin' in the kopjes, why, the Boer is a dandy, 'nd if the
rest of Europe don't think so, only let 'em have a try at 'im 'nd see. But
when 'e has shot you he acts like a blessed Christian, 'nd bears no malice.
'E's like a bloomin' South Sea cocoanut, not much to look at outside, but
white 'nd sweet inside when yer know 'im, 'nd it's when you're wounded 'nd
a prisoner that you get a chance to know 'im, see." And "Tommy" is about
correct in his judgment.

The Boers have made most excellent provision for the treatment of wounded
after battle. All that science can do is done. Their medical men fight as
hard to save a British life or a British limb as medical men in England
would battle to save life or limb of a private person. At the Bloemfontein