Aan Het Volk van Den (? Oranje) Vrij-Staat.
Dr. A. Conan Doyle, who has since written so excellent a book upon "The Great Boer War," had recently arrived in Bloemfontein, and enjoyed his first welcoming dinner with the editors of The Friend at the Free State Hotel. He took a keen interest in our strange newspaper venture, and willingly wrote for us when we asked him to do so. The ringing, sturdily-phrased article, "A First Impression," which appeared in this number of April 6th, was by him.
But he came at the head of the Langman Field Hospital, and was, at first, busy in establishing that most excellent, much-needed institution on the cricket-ground; then busier far in looking after the enteric patients who passed under his care in numbers startling to record. It fell to me to write a notice of his arrival, in which I said—and from my heart—"We welcome him to the British Army. We had hoped to welcome him to the staff of The Friend, but, in view of the humane and philanthropic work which busies him night and day, we cannot betray such selfishness as to express any disappointment over this loss.
"So true a talent as his compels him to write, whether he will or no, and he has promised us a thought or an observation, now and then, out of his golden store. Perhaps at the end of the war he may give to the world a companion book to his undying 'White Company.' If it is called the 'Khaki Company,' and deals with the exploits of Englishmen of to-day, there will be, thank God, no lack of deeds of valour as stirring, courage as calm, and warfare as enthusiastic as he found to electrify the pages of the earlier work."
A first Impression
It was only Smith-Dorrien's brigade marching into Bloemfontein but if it could have passed just as it was, down Piccadilly and the Strand it would have driven London crazy. I got down from the truck which we were unloading and watched them, the ragged bearded fierce-eyed infantry straggling along under their cloud of dust. Who could conceive who has seen the prim soldier of peace that he could as quickly transform himself into this grim virile barbarian. Bulldog faces, hawk faces, hungry wolf faces—every kind of face except a weak one. Here and there a reeking pipe—here and there a man who smiled—but the most have their swarthy faces leaned a little forward, their eyes steadfast, their features impassive but resolute. Baggage waggons were passing, the mules all shin & ribs, with the escort tramping beside the wheels.
A Page of Dr. Conan Doyle's "Copy."
All who were in Bloemfontein spoke as highly of the Langman Hospital as I have done, and in the same—even in a more ardent manner—had we all praised the Australian Field Hospital, which we got to know before Lord Roberts took command. Especially did we exalt these institutions in our mind, because of the way in which we contrasted them with the outfits of the R.A. Medical Corps. We could not then see why it was that private individuals and colonies should surpass the richest nation on earth in their equipments for the care of the sick and wounded, or why the richest nation on earth should have to rely on these outside establishments, and beg of the Red Cross agents and of the people of South Africa for the means to complete the equipment of her own field hospitals.