“I beg to request that the following charges may be made the subject of inquiry by court martial:—
“(1) I charge the orderly officer, whoever he may be, with neglect of duty, in that he did not visit the guard–room last night when I was there.
“(2) I charge the corporal of the guard with neglect of duty, in that he was absent from the guard–room at 9.32 p. m., at the Spoofery.
“(3) I charge the same corporal of the guard with not officially informing the guard that there was a prisoner in the guard–room.
“(4) I charge the corporal of the guard with using unbecoming language, in that he used the phrase, ‘Why the h—l don’t you know?’ to me.”
Etc. etc. etc.
Another trooper, not quite so enthusiastic, writes to tell me that at his fort the drill and discipline are “heart–rending.”
An Italian surgeon writes that he is “anxious to be engaged in the British Army in Matabeleland.” He hopes that the General will “approve his generous intention,” and will “grant him the admission in the army which many persons, not more worthy than him, so easily obtain.”
Among the many interesting experiences of a campaign, carried on, as this one is, under a varied assortment of troops, is that entailed in receiving reports from officers of very diverse training. Some are verbose in the extreme, others are terse to barrenness. But the latter is a most rare fault, and may well be called a fault on the right side. As a rule, reports appear to be proportioned on an inverse ratio to work performed. The man who has done little, tries to make it appear much, by means of voluminous description. I often feel inclined to issue printed copies, as examples to officers commanding columns, of Captain Walton’s celebrated despatch, when, under Admiral Byng, he destroyed the whole of the Spanish fleet off Passaro—
“Sir,—We have taken or destroyed all the Spanish ships on this coast; number as per margin.—Respectfully yours,