The yells and screams of fury which commenced at daybreak, and often made night hideous in the correspondents' camp, were never heard amongst the officers, who surely had infinitely more to put up with in the way of discomfort than we had. In short, disgust was often the prevailing sentiment with which one could contemplate our own camp, and it was a delightful relief to get away for a quiet, pleasant chat with one's officer friends.
There are other types also. The "new hand," some peaceful-looking journalist who has never fired a shot in his life, even at a bunny, stands before the door of his tent clad in all the trappings with which Messrs. Silver adorn the noumenal war correspondent of their imagination. Every strap in the brand new kit is in its place, and the poor man is so festooned with cameras and field-glasses and revolvers and haversacks that respiration must be difficult, as he bumps along on his gee-gee in an enormous helmet. He cannot ride, to walk he is ashamed. Yet, if the "new hand's" enthusiasm for a war correspondent's career is not disillusioned by the stern realities of a Sudan campaign, he will appear in our next "little war" as an old hand, and will be all the happier for having left behind him the outfit dear to the war correspondent of comic opera, and donned a less intricate but more effective costume.
Once more, there is the non-journalistic amateur, who, in order to go through the campaign, has secured a permit to act as a correspondent for some newspaper. As I was myself a humble member of this class, I will refrain from criticising its merits and defects, though later on a brief tribute may well be paid to the memory of two of its members, who, alas, did not return—Cross and Howard.
Now, concerning war correspondents enough has been said. Let no one be offended by fair criticism and good-natured banter—
Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas,
Gaudia, discursus, nostri est farrago libelli.
At the same time it seems likely that the day of the highly paid war correspondent, with carte blanche to spend as much as he likes, is almost over. Scores of capable men with a 'Varsity education would be delighted to do war correspondent's work for a tithe of what is paid to some of these gentlemen; and as agencies like Reuter supply excellent telegrams, there is no crying need for additional "wires." At least one of our leading newspapers was quite uncertain for a long time as to whether it would send a special correspondent to the Sudan or not, and an editor remarked to me that the copy sent was often scarcely worth the outlay. "We don't want to read," said he, "how our correspondent was bitten by mosquitoes, or left his pyjamas behind him."
As my friend Professor Poulton of Oxford had kindly bestowed upon me a small net and a "killing bottle," I resolved to collect some butterflies and insects for the University Museum, and made frequent excursions outside Wad Hamed camp for the purpose. But ill-luck pursued my untrained efforts at practical entomology. The only thing the bottle came within measurable distance of killing was myself, for it got broken almost at the start, and my cook, thinking the strong-smelling concoction at the bottom was some form of curry powder or seasoning, had carefully annexed the débris of the bottle, and was proceeding to use it for culinary purposes, when I seized the stuff and hurled it into the river.
The butterfly net also fell upon evil days, for the donkey which carried it began to roll one evening before its load was removed, and the apparatus was utterly smashed. The stick and brasswork I reluctantly left on the field, but the green gauze served to protect one's eyes and complexion when sandstorms swept through the air.