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Updated: June 7, 2025
Guy told me that he would see what the Corps would do for us; and rang up later to tell me to ask the observers at Adam O.P. to note results at 2.30 P.M. At the appointed time, every active heavy gun in the Corps fired a shell simultaneously against selected targets, including L. 33. a. There were at least four brigades of heavies in the Corps and the noise was colossal.
Not likely, but . There's an old cement Hun gun-pit to the right; you take cover in it. "Pretty wide awake," you say to your companion, "to have picked us out as quickly as that." From this sheltered hiding you have time to gaze about you. The roof of the gun-pit is smashed in at one corner. Our heavies did that when the Hun held the ridge. It was good shooting.
Trod on myself during a game of fives, and twisted my ankle a bit. 'In for the middles, of course? 'Yes. 'So am I. 'Yes, so I saw in the Sportsman. It says you weigh eleven-three. 'Bit more, really, I believe. Shan't be able to have any lunch, or I shall have to go in for the heavies. What are you? 'Just eleven. Well, let's hope we meet in the final. 'Rather, said Tony.
There were gentlemen seeking engagements who were Artistic Whistling Soloists, Magicians, Leading Men, Leading Heavies, Singing and Dancing Comedians, and there were both ladies and gentlemen who were now Starring in this play or that, but were open to offers later.
After a moment came another puff of smoke further to our right, and beyond this another, and again, beyond this, another. "A battery of heavies," said F. Even as he spoke the four puffs burst forth again and upon exactly the same ground.
"What a goat you are!" said a voice reproachfully to the possessor of the paper. "Look at this. It says Cheltenham got it. And here we are seventeenth. Fat lot of shield we've won." "Then what the deuce does this mean? 'Honours for St Paul's, Harrow, and Wrykyn'." "Perhaps it refers to the boxing," suggested Linton. "But we didn't send any one up. Look here. Harrow won the Heavies.
That ponderous, slow rotating whistle of a "Johnson" caught our well-trained ears; a pause! then a reverberating, hollow-sounding "crumph!" We looked at each other. "Heavies!" we all exclaimed. "Look out! here comes another!" and sure enough there it was, that gargling crescendo of a whistle followed by a mighty crash, considerably nearer.
The horse seemed to have had enough of it, and his lordship appeared to have been knocked about but was cool and collected. He returned his sword, undid a little of the front of his dress and pulled down his underclothing under his waistbelt. Just then a cheer was raised by some Heavies who had lately formed in front of "C" Troop.
Presently its shattered remnants fell slowly back, covered by the Heavies against the pursuit of the once more audacious Russian cavalry. Barely half an hour had sufficed for the annihilation of nearly six hundred soldiers, the flower of the British Light Horse.
In the intimacies of private association he was known as Bill Whally, and his descent was straight down from "Mount Sinai's awful height." He was a Hebrew and no better or more uneven and reckless actor ever played melodramatic "heavies." He had a love for Shakespeare, but could not play him; he had a love of drink and could gratify it. His vigorous talents purchased for him much forbearance.
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