Some
wore shabby khaki jackets and trousers, others flannel shirts and long
boots or putties. However attired, they were eager once more for the
fray, and, moreover, looked fit for any emergency.
The next few days were a period of intense excitement, and we were
constantly stumbling against friends who had formed part of the relief
column, but of whose presence we were totally unaware. Letters began to
arrive in bulky batches, and one morning I received no less than 100,
some of which bore the date of September of the year before. My time was
divided between eagerly devouring these missives from home, sending and
answering cables (a telegraph-line to the nearest telephone-office had
been installed), and helping to organize a new hospital in the
school-house, to accommodate the sick and wounded belonging to Colonel
Mahon's force. All the while my thoughts were occupied by my return to
England and by the question of the surest route to Cape Town. The
railway to the South could not be relaid for weeks, and, as an
alternative, my eyes turned longingly towards the Transvaal and
Pretoria. It must be remembered that we shared the general opinion that,
once Lord Roberts had reached the latter town, the war would be
practically over. How wrong we all were after-events were to prove, but
at the end of May, 1900, it appeared to many that to drive the 200 miles
to Pretoria would be very little longer, and much more interesting, than
to trek to Kimberley, with Cape Town as the destination.
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