rately
slipped the badge on the sleeves in order to avoid capture. They were,
of course, at once secured and treated as ordinary prisoners of war. But
in the hurry of the moment, and very naturally under the circumstances,
some seventeen of the Boers who were _bona-fide_ ambulance men were
arrested on suspicion and despatched with the crafty gunners to
Capetown. Here they were examined, and when the authorities realised
that they were genuinely entitled to the protection of the Red Cross,
and were not combatants fraudulently equipped with this protective
badge, the seventeen were forthwith sent back to General Cronje. As they
were returning we met them and had a chat with them. Five at least of
the number were Scotchmen or Irishmen; two more of them did not speak,
and I rather think from their appearance that they too were of English
race, and preferred to remain silent. Several of them complained of
ill-treatment at our hands, but I must say their complaints appeared to
resolve themselves into the fact that on their journeys to and from
Capetown their meals had not been quite regular. Three of us gave them
some bread, jam and cigarettes, for which they were extremely grateful.
They wore ordinary clothes much the worse for wear, and told me that
they left their "Sunday" suits at home. On the whole I was most
favourably impressed by these fellows, with one exception. The exception
was a Free-Stater who spoke English volubly. He loudly declared that he
was sick of the war and intended the moment he secured an opportunity to
desert and go home to his farm. I felt rather indignant at this person's
remarks, and with an air of moral superiority I said: "We don't think
any the better of you for saying that; although you are an enemy you
ought to stick to your General, and not sneak away from the front". But
the Free-Stater was not a bit impressed by my rhetoric, and simply said,
"Oh, skittles!"

Some of the prisoners were from the Transvaal and they seemed to me much
more keen and enthusiastic than their Free State companions, and evinced
no signs whatever of despondency or depression. There was a very
pathetic note in the conversation of one of the Transvaalers, a mere
boy of seventeen. He said to me in broken English, "It is such a
causeless war. What are we fighting for, sir?" and I referred him for
his answer to three Johannesburg Uitlanders who were standing by.
Accursed as war always is, it is thrice accursed when young