Modder River

Well, these are the first two battles of the war.

Then on the other front, the western front, when Lord Methuen thought he's way up to try and relieve Kimberley, you have Belmont, Kraasbaan and Modder River, all British victories.

Again, the first three battles on that front.

So it takes a while for the Boers to actually achieve a victory, and which they did at Nicholson's Nek on the 30th of, uh, October.

Much discouraged, I clung to my first ideas, and my friend, seeing my determination, eventually gave me a letter to a staff officer, thinking that he would probably be able to help me.

Next day, I presented the letter and was immediately given a pass which would allow me to travel by rail as far as Modder River.

By my request, a few words were added which explained that I was to proceed until I came in touch with General Wavell, who I knew was helping me at the front and was at that moment with Lord Methuen.

Luck seemed to be turning in my direction.

"Oh, look at him!" they cried, weak with laughing.

"Look at the warrior." For the change from the gentle artist they had known on the boat to the field marshal was too much for their equanimity.

The first and wisest thing I did was go to the booking office, put my head in at the ticket hole, helmet and all, though they did not seem impressed by it, and ask for a ticket to Modder River available for three months, thinking that by then my work would be completed.

No sooner had I paid my twelve pounds than I learned that correspondents were allowed the privilege of traveling free of charge.

Much discouraged, I clung to my first ideas; and my friend, seeing my determination, eventually gave me a letter to a staff officer, thinking that he would probably be able to help me.

Next day I presented the letter, and was immediately given a pass which would allow me to travel by rail as far as Modder River.

By my request, a few words were added which explained that I was to proceed until I came in touch with General Wavell, who, I knew, was helping me at the front, and was at that moment with Lord Methuen.

Luck seemed to be turning in my direction.

"Oh, look at him!" they cried, weak with laughing.

"Look at the warrior!" For the change from the gentle artist they had known on the boat to the field-marshal was too much for their equanimity.

The first and wisest thing I did was go to the booking-office, put my head in at the ticket hole, helmet and all, though they did not seem impressed by it, and ask for a ticket to Modder River available for three months, thinking that by then my work would be completed.

No sooner had I paid my twelve pounds than I learned that correspondents were allowed the privilege of travelling free of charge.

Alone, what did Bloom feel? The cold inter- the cold of interstellar space, thousands of degrees below freezing point or the absolute zero of Fahrenheit, centigrade or Reaumur: the incipient intimations of proximate dawn.

Of what did bell chime and handtouch and footstep and lone chill remind him? Of companions now in various manners in different places defunct: Percy Apjohn, killed in action, Modder River; Philip Gilligan, phthisis, Jervis Street Hospital; Matthew F.

Kane, accidental drowning, Dublin Bay; Philip Moyzel, pyemia, Hatsbury Street; Michael Hart, phthisis, Mater Misericordiae Hospital; Patrick Dignam, apoplexy, Sandymount.

What prospect of what phenomena inclined him to remain? The disparition of three final stars, the diffusion of daybreak, the apparition of a new solar disc.