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Updated: May 28, 2025
We tried to think that they were playing the game as fairly as they could. Already their methods were certainly rough. Here, for example, is a sworn narrative of a soldier taken in the fighting before Ladysmith: 'Evidence of No. 6418 Private F. Ayling, 3rd Batt. King's Royal Rifles. 'Near Colenso, February 25, 1900.
How could he have failed to remember any one of those gay young friends of the major's? "And where," asked Ayling, "is the major now?" "Major Lonsdale, sir has been gone seven years. Hadn't you heard?" Lonsdale gone! Lonsdale dead! Lonsdale had begun life so brilliantly. Ayling did feel left over and old.
The week before her loomed longer than all the time she had been away. That afternoon she told Ayling her news, but it was not until she had finished telling him that she remembered that he, too, would be going away. She hadn't known until then how much his being there had meant. "I don't know," she said, "how I shall put in the week! After all, I've been missing her more than I knew."
"The only trouble about this place," said Ayling, as he surveyed the last position, "is that my fire will be masked by that house with the clump of trees beside it." The Engineer produced a small note-book, and wrote in it by the light of a convenient star-shell. "Right-o!" he said. "I'll have the whole caboodle pushed over for you by to-morrow night. Anything else?"
I have marked out each man's digging position with white tape, so they ought to find no difficulty in getting to work. Brought your machine-gun officer?" The machine-gun officer, Ayling, was called up. "We are digging a sort of square fort," explained the Engineer, "to hold a battalion. That will mean four guns to mount.
Ayling could give that we could get in no other way...." "I understand, perfectly." "Then I may come?" "Certainly." ... There was nothing else she could say. She did not know how she got rid of her guest, what explanation she made, nor how she happened to be saying good-by to her at the very moment when the dignified, elderly Mr. Burke arrived, so that they had to be introduced.
We moved out of the quarries and struck over half-left, and ultimately found the Battalion, a very long way ahead, in what I took to be a Bosche third-line trench, facing east." "Right! Fosse Alley," said Kemp. "You remember it on the map?" "Yes, I do now," said Ayling.
But the air was soft, and she wandered about for half an hour before it occurred to her that perhaps Ayling was waiting for her inside. She went in to look, but saw him nowhere, and decided that he was sleeping late. She waited until eleven, and then went out to walk by herself. But she did not relish the walk because she was uneasy about Ayling. She was afraid he was ill.
Accordingly, that afternoon upon parade, Platoon commanders were bidden to hold a witch hunt, and smell out a chiropodist. But the enterprise terminated almost immediately; for Private Dunshie, caressing his injured abdomen in Number Three Platoon, heard the invitation, and quickly stepped forward. "So you are a chiropodist as well as everything else, Dunshie!" said Ayling incredulously.
Ayling began to enjoy himself. After you have spent nine months in an unprofitable attempt to combine practical machine-gun tactics with a scrupulous respect for private property, the realisation that you may now gratify your destructive instincts to the full comes as a welcome and luxurious shock. "Thanks," he said. "You might flatten out that haystack, too."
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