orget them?
And who does not remember with pride the great outburst of
patriotism, which, like a volcanic eruption, swept every obstacle
before it, banishing Party rancour and class prejudice, thus welding
the British race in one gigantic whole, ready to do and die for the
honour of the Old Flag, and in defence of the Empire which has been
built up by the blood and brains of its noblest sons. The call for
Volunteers for Active Service was answered in a manner which left no
doubt as to the issue. From North, South, East, and West, came
offers of units, then tens, then hundreds, and finally, thousands,
the flower of the Nation, were in arms ready for action. The Hon. T.
A. Brassey, a Sussex man, holding a commission in the West Kent
Yeomanry, applied for permission and undertook, early in February,
1900, to form a squadron of Yeomanry from Sussex. The enlistment was
principally done at Eastbourne, as were also the preliminary drills.
We went into quarters at Shorncliffe where we trained until the last
week in March, when early, very early, one dark cold morning, a
wailing sleepy drum and fife band played us down to the Shorncliffe
Station, where we entrained for the Albert Docks, London. There the
transport "Delphic" received us, together with a squadron of Paget's
Horse (the 73rd I.Y.), and soon after noon the officers and troopers
were being borne down the river, and with mixed feelings, were
beginning to realise they were actually off at last. Many, alas,
were destined never to return.

It is more amusing than ever, now, to recall the remarks of cheerful,
chaffing friends, who indulged in sly digs at the poor Yeomen previous
to their departure. At that time, as now, "the end was in sight" only we
had not got used to it. It was a common experience to be greeted with,
"Ha, going out to South Africa! Why it'll be all over before you get
there," or "Well, it'll be a pleasant little trip there and back, for I
don't suppose they'll land you." Subsequent experience of troopships has
dispelled even "the pleasant trip" illusion. Another favourite phrase,
was "Well, if they do use you, they'll put you on the lines of
communications." Sometimes a generous friend would confidentially ask,
"Do you think they'll let you start?" And one, a lady, anxious on
account of gew-gaws, observed, "Oh, I hope they'll give you a medal."

Eventually the slow but sure S.S. "Delphic," having stopped at St.
Helena to land bullocks for Cronje, Schi