EXPERIENCES OF A WAR CORRESPONDENT.

Lyttelton Times, Volume XCIII, Issue 10662, 24 May 1895, Page 2

EXPERIENCES OF A WAR CORRESPONDENT.

(Ilhjs irated American.) We were talking about presentiments, and Frederick Villiers, the veteran war correspondent, fresh from his ninth campaign, said in that quiet, careless way of his: “ When a man goes into a fight feeling that he is going to die. why, he generally ' does die. It’s queer, but it’s a fact.” “Do you believe that ? ” I asked, much surprised. Villiers nodded, and proceeded to tell stories. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever forget the face of a young lieutenant I used to see a good deal of'in the Russo-Turkish war. We were great friends, although he was a Russian, and he used to toll me all about a girl he loved. Ho used to gat letters from her regularly, but there came a time when these stopped suddenly; there was some delay in the mails, bub the poor chap didn’t know that. Ho got very blue about it, and one day, just before the big affair in the Shipka Pass, he said to me : “ ‘ I’ll never get that letter. I know I. won’t.’ ‘“Why not?’ said I, wishing to cheer him up. “ * Because I am going to be shot.’ “Next day the fighting cama on—hot fighting, I can tell you—and the second day my friend was seriously wounded. The third day he was shot dead; and tho fourth day fche letter from his sweetheart arrived with her photograph.” Villiers thought awhile, then said : “ That was a presentiment, wasn’t it P” Then Villiers told how he saw his comrade, Paul Cameron, die out in Africa. “It was during the Dongola trouble, and we wore getting ready to move our column across the desert to Khartoum. Paul high feather, haying received snlendid compliments from his paper; the London Standard, with promise of increased salary and a large retaining fee. Everything seemed full of bright, promise to him, but suddenly, for no apparent reason, he became gloomy and morose. “ ‘ I’m afraid, old man, I shan’t live long to enjoy my good luck.’ “ That’s what ho said to me one day, and the words haunted me, for I had seen too many cases of death following such a presentiment not to fear for him. A little later we went into the battle of Abu Klea, and I never gripped a man’s hand with more rejoicing than I did Cameron’s when I found him safe and sound after the engagement. “ ‘ You see,’ said I„‘ these presentiments don’t amount to much, after all.’ “ But Paul shook his head and remained depressed. Two days later we were attacked in the desert, and Paul was lying not five yards away from me beside a camel. In these desert fights the smaller force is always huddled together, men and beasts, in a compact circle on a knoll, the enemy attacking from all sides. We simply had to lie there and take it, cursing, praying and fighting aa well as we could. I heard the sing of a bullet near me, and looking Paul’s way saw that the poor chap’s fears bad come true. He lay there on the sand dead.”

Villiers went on to explain, what is not generally appreciated, that war correspondents who do their duty are exposed to greater danger and suffer greater mortality than any other class connected with an army. “ I remember where eight of us started in a little African campaign, and four of us never came out of it. I guess most of the boys who died there thought they were going to die. That’s the beauty of it, you see; if a fellow thinks he is going to get through all right, why, he will; only you can’t regulate your thoughts.” “ How large a percentage of war correspondents get killed ? ” . , "About 50 per cent, I should say,” answered Villiers— ‘‘ no, make it 60 per cent.” Then came more stories.

“ I’ll tell you another queer thing. Sometimes a man can tell when another is going to be killed;, I’ve had that experience once or twice. I remember once when I was in London for a little rest, I met ,a man whose face caught my eye, I kept staring at him—l couldn’t help it.” ‘♦‘By Jove,’ I said to myself, ‘that fellow looks as if he was going to be shot.’ “ Some months later we wore both in Suakim as war correspondents for London papers. Quite a coincidence, wasn’t it ? I kept thinking of this presentiment of mine about him, but was careful not to tell him. Every time we’d have trouble, though, I’d keep thinking about it, and whenever I’d meet him I’d call out: — ■ “ ‘ Well, my boy, how are you by this time ?’ . .. “ This got to be quite a joke between us, and he would always' reply with a mock military salute: — “ ‘ All right, Villiers.’ “ Well, we went into that nasty mess at Tamai, in the Eastern Soudan, and our square got all broken up. My friend was with the marines on the rear face, and when things got pretty bad the boys down there came rallying up to join the 42n‘d Highlanders, where I was. I saw him plunging past, black with smoke, but nil right, and I sung out tbe same as usual:— '“Well, my boy, how are you by this time ?’ ♦•He beard me over tbe noise of tbe Arab devils, and lifted hia hand for the old salute.

“ ‘ All right, Vil— ’ was all be could say, when he fell flat with a ball through his head and the horses sad men trampling over him. “ ‘ He’s gone,’ I said to fnyaelf, and kept thinking of him all through the battle. Two years later, I was taking, dinner with some friends in Greenwich, when who should walk in but the same man whose bones were whitening in the desert, as I supposed. •“ You Bee they didn’t kill mo after all/ he said. • Tho ball only took off a part of my head, and here I am,’ which goes to show that you can’t have a presentiment for another fellow.”

“Did you ever have a presentiment yourself ?” I asked. . “ Certainly not,” said Villiers, “ otherwise 1 shouldn’t be here. I have been through dozens of battles; I’ve had horses and camels shot under me, and my clothes cut by bullets, but I’ve .never get so much as a scratch. But wait till I get a presentiment. I came near having one at this Port Arthur affair, very near. You know the engagement began at sis o’clock in the morning, and all through the previous night we had been on the march, climbing up steep roads to the great mountain table-land, where tho Chinese forts were. I hadn’t slept much for days, and as my little donkey stumbled along, hour after hour, through the silence of the night, I felt a sense of despondency taking possession of me. Then I noticed that a horned moon was shining in the sky, always a bad omen to soldiers.” “ ‘ls that for me ?’ I said to myself, looking at the silver points. ‘ Is tbis going to be my turn ?’ “ When the guns began firing at the dawn the moon with its sinister horns was still shining, but low on the horizon now, and right over tho Chinese forts. When I saw that I got as marry as a boy. I understood that the moon’s menace was only for the wretched Chinamen, and rode about among the shells qs light-hearted as if I had been in a ball-room, I knew no harm was coming to me, and none came.” “ Do you mean that you rode on a donkey ail through the battle ?” “ I rode on the donkey as long as the little beast would let me. But donkeys, like horses, don’t enjoy the shriek of shells. You know a shell passing six feet away from a man will blow him over, and passing within two feet of him will make him deaf for life, and perhaps kill him outright. So I had to walk about the field most of the day; indeed, I generally pre*. fer to be on my own legs under action.” Then Villiers told another story. “I must tell you about the.'.tsme. 1

charged a Russian battery all alone, or rather it was a crazy horse that I was on that did it, and I stayed with the horse. This was in the Busao-Turkish campaign at the battle on the river Lom. Archibald Forbes and I had gone ahead skirmishing between the lines during the engagement, a very foolish proceeding. My horse suddenly took fright and ran away straight towards the lines of the enemy, the Turks. I managed to saw his head round, and then he charged straight up the slope at the Russian battery, which' was spitting out hell-fire at the opposing army. I saw there was nothing for it bub to let the brute have his way, find up we went toward the guns, the horse running like mad and I hugging, his neefc. When be reached the parapet he paused just a second to gather his strength, and then with a splendid bound cleared the line of discharging cannons and landed me among the astonished gunners, who immediately put. me under, arrest and dragged roe before the commanding officer.” “ And what did he do ?”

“Oh, he laughed,” answered Villiers. . During our talk, I asked Villiers how it came that he had returned from .the front before tho war is over, before Pekin has fallen. “There are good and sufficient reasons for that,” he said, with smile mysterious. Then he told me what they were—under pledge of strictest secrecy.