A SOLDIER’S LAST MARCH

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1508, 24 January 1901, Page 54

A SOLDIER’S LAST MARCH

Mr Frederick Treeves, in his book, “The Tale of a Field Hospital,” just published by Messrs Cassell, writes:—l remember at Chieveley one morning before breakfast watching a solitary man approach the hospital lines. He was as melancholy an object as ever a war produced'. Fie was a soldier who- had. fought at Colenso, at faal Krautz, and before Pieters, and he was now staggering towards the hospital, a. ragged, brokeri-down, khakicoloured spectre of a man. He dragged his rifle along with him: his belt was gone; his helmet was poised at the back of liis head: his frowsy tunic was thrown over his shoulders: he was lit elf ally black with flies. His clothes had not been off for many days, and he had missed the ambulance, he said, and had. walked to the hospital. How far he had come he could not trill, nor could anyone gather how he had fared or where he h*d riept. AH that was evident was that he was wet with dew, and had spent the night.in the open. He knew that for vague hours he) had been making his way, with ever-faltering steps and failing eyes, towards the Reef Cross flag on the crest of the hill. And' now he had! rria.clied it. As to why he had come:—“Well! he had a. touch of iplysentery,” he said “and was about ilaved out.” Poor lad! this was a sorry home-com-ing at the last. A squalid ending of a march; staggering in alone, a shuffling wreck, without a single comrade, with no fifes and drums, no cheering crowd, and no proud adoration of mother or wife. He was helped to a bell-tent and put to bed on a stretcher, and on the stretcher he died ; and this was the end of his soldiering. “Sic transit gloria ■m’undi!”