S +; Miyakhan had, in my absence, discharged his duty aa Aoa mathe ey increased the membership and added about £ 1,000 to the coffers of the Natal Indian Congress. The awakening Caused by the bills and the demonstration against the passengers I turned to good account by making an appeal for membership and funds, which now amounted to £ 5,000. My desire was to secure for e Congress a permanent fund, so that it might procure property of its own and then carry on its work out of the rent of the property. This was my first experience of managing a public institution. I 144 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH placed my proposal before my co-workers, and they welcomed it. The property that was purchased was leased out, and the rent was enough to meet the current expenses of the Congress. The property was vested in a strong body of trustees and is still there today, but it has become the source of much internecine quarrelling with the result that the rent of the property now accumulates in the court. This sad situation developed after my departure from South Africa, but my idea of having permanent funds for public institutions under- went a change long before this difference arose. And now after considerable experience with the many public institutions which I have managed, it has become my firm conviction that it is not good to run public institutions on permanent funds. A permanent fund carries in itself the seed of the moral fall of the institution. A public institution means an institution conducted with the approval, and from the funds, of the public. When such an institution ceases to have public support, it forfeits its right to exist, Institutions maintained on permanent funds are often found to i . I hav $ is for public institutions to live, lik c no doubt that the ideal institution that fails to win public suppo i i such. The subscriptions that an i op a nas mio right to exist as $ e will fin ina rne out in the coming Ee s y EDUCATION OF CHILDREN When I landed at Durban in January 1897, I had three children with me, my sister’s son ten years old, and my own sons nine and five years of age. Where was I to educate them?
I could have sent them to the schools for European children, but only as a matter of favour and exception. No other Indian children were allowed to attend them. For these there were schools esta- blished by Christian missions, but I was not prepared to send my children there, as I did not like the education imparted in those schools. For one thing, the medium of instruction would be only English, or perhaps incorrect Tamil or Hindi; this too could only have been arranged with difficulty. I could not possibly put up with this and other disadvantages. In the meantime I was making my Own attempt to teach them. But that was at best irregular, and I Could not get hold of a suitable Gujarati teacher.
I was at my wits’ end. I advertised for an English teacher who should teach the children under my direction. Some regular instruc- tion was to be given them by this teacher, and for the rest they should be satisfied with what little I could give them irregularly. So I engaged an English governess on £ 7 a month. This went on for some time, but not to my satisfaction. The boys acquired some know- ledge of Gujarati through my conversation and intercourse with them, which was strictly in the mother-tongue. I was loath to send them back to India, for I believed even then that young children Should not be separated from their parents. The education that chil- dren naturally imbibe in a well-ordered household is impossible to in i refore kept my children with me. I did send pede ORE be educated at residential schools in soon had to recall them. Later, the eldest son long after he had come of age, broke away from me, and Went to India to join a High Slon that the nephew was sati: fortunately he died in the pri ot have ne her three of my sons have eg in an improvised school which the j regular sc ‘ z x I ase get Dae A of Satyagrahi parents in South Africa. i. I could not devote to the Th i ts were all inadequate: ara s children Seine tine I had wanted to give them. My inability to give hace a AEON and other unavoidable causes prevented me PE “wo h a them with the literary education I had desired, and a here had complaints to make against me in this matter.
10 146 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH Whenever they come across an M.A. or a B.A., or even a matriculate, they seem to feel the handicap of a want of school education.
Nevertheless I am of opinion that, if I had insisted on their being educated somehow at public schools, they would have been deprived of the training that can be had only at the school of experience, or from constant contact with the parents. I should never have been free, as I am today, from anxiety on their score, and the artificial education that they could have had in England or South Africa, torn from me, would never have taught them the simplicity and the spirit of service that they show in their lives today, while their artificial ways of living might have been a serious handicap in my public work. Therefore, though I have not been able to give them a literary education either to their or to my satisfaction, I am not quite sure, as I look back on my past years, that I have not done my duty by them to the best of my capacity. Nor do I regret not having sent them to public schools. I have always felt that the undesirable traits I see today in my eldest son are an echo of my own undisciplined and unformulated early life. I regard that time as a period of half- baked knowledge and indulgence. It coincided with the most impres- sionable years of my eldest son, and naturally he has refused to regard it as my time of indulgence and inexperience. He has on the contrary believed that that was the brightest period of my life, and the changes, effected later, have been due to delusion miscalled enlightenment. And well he might. Why should he not think that my earlier years represented a period of awakening, and the later years of radical change, years of delusion and egotism? Often have I been confronted with various posers from friends: What harm had there been, if I had given my boys an academical education? What right had I thus to clip their wings? Why should I have come in the way of their taking degrees and choosing their own careers?
much point in these questions. I have ous students. I have tried myself or y educational ‘fads’ on other children SPIRIT OF SERVICE 147 education that other children could not get, I should have deprived them of the object-lesson in liberty and self-respect that I gave them at the cost of the literary training. And where a choice has to be made between liberty and learning, who will not say that the former has to be preferred a thousand times to the latter?
The youths whom I called out in 1920 from those citadels of slavery — their schools and colleges — and whom I advised that it was far better to remain unlettered and break stones for the sake of liberty than to go in for a literary education in the chains of slaves will Probably be able now to trace my advice to its source.
VI SPIRIT OF SERVICE My profession progressed satisfactorily, but that was far from Satisfying me. The question of further simplifying my life and of doing some concrete act of service to my fellowmen had been con- Stantly agitating me, when a leper came to my door. I had not the heart to dismiss him with a meal. So I offered him shelter, dressed his wounds, and began to look after him. But I could not go on like that indefinitely. I could not afford, I lacked the will to keep him always with me. So I sent him to the Government Hospital for indentured labourers. But I was still ill at ease. I longed for some humanitarian work of a permanent nature. Dr. Booth was the head of the St. Aidan’s ission. He was a kind-hearted man and treated his patients free. Thanks to Parsi Rustomji’s charities, it was possible to open a small charitable hospital under Dr. Booth’s charge. I felt strongly inclined to serve as a nurse in this hospital. The work of dispensing medicines took from one to two hours daily, and I made up my mind to find that time from my office-work, so as to be able to fill the place of a Compounder in the dispensary attached to the hospital. Most of my Professional work was chamber work, conveyancing and arbitration. Of course used to have a few cases in the magistrate’s court, but Most of them were of a non-controversial character, and Mr. Khan, Who had followed me to South Africa and was then living with me, Undertook to take them if I was absent. So I found time to serve in the small hospital. This meant two hours every morning, including e time taken in going to and from the hospital. This work brought € some peace. It consisted in ascertaining the patient’s complaints, laying the facts before the doctor and dispensing the prescriptions. `t brought me in close touch with suffering Indians, most of them Mdentured Tamil, Telugu or North India men. The i tood me in good stead, when during the Boer War I offered a for nursing the sick and wounded soldiers.
148 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH The question of the rearing of children had been ever before me. I had two sons born in South Africa, and my service in.the hospital was useful in solving the question of their upbringing. My indepen- dent spirit was a constant source of trial. My wife and I had decided to have the best medical aid at the time of her delivery, but if the doctor and the nurse were to leave us in the lurch at the right moment, what was I to do? Then the nurse had to be an Indian. And the difficulty of getting a trained Indian nurse in South Africa can be easily imagined from the similar difficulty in India. So I studied the things necessary for safe labour. I read Dr. Tribhuvandas’ book, Ma-ne Shikhaman — Advice to a Mother — and I nursed both my children according to the instructions given in the book, tem- pered here and there by such experience as I had gained elsewhere. The services of a nurse were utilized—not for more than two months each time — chiefly for helping my wife, and not for taking care of the babies, which I did myself.
The birth of the last child put me to the severest test. The travail came on suddenly. The doctor was not immediately available, and some time was lost in fetching the midwife. Even if she had been on the spot, she could not have helped delivery. I had to see through the safe delivery of the baby, My careful study of the subject in Dr. Tribhuvandas’ work was of inestimable help. I was not nervous.
I am convinced that for the proper upbringing of children the parents ought to have a of babies. At every ste study of the subject. My children would se apes will never have sexual union ust, but only when they desire issue. I think it is the height of ignorance to beli 1 k elieve th t 1s an independent function r ta RE aa edge necessary for the physi 1 Pa and spiritual well-being of his A physical, menta knowledge to posterity, progeny, and give the benefit of that VII BRAHMACHARYA —I We now reach the stage in this story when I began seriously to think of taking the brahmacharya vow. I had been wedded to a monogamous ideal ever since my marriage, faithfulness to my wife being part of the love of truth. But it was in South Africa that I came to realize the importance of observing brahmacharya even with respect to my wife. I cannot definitely say what circumstance or what book it was, that set my thoughts in that direction, but I have a recollection that the predominant factor was the influence of Raychandbhai, of whom I have already written. I can still recall a conversation that I had with him. On one occasion I spoke to him in high praise of Mrs. Gladstone’s devotion to her husband. I had read somewhere that Mrs. Gladstone insisted on preparing tea for Mr. Gladstone even in the House of Commons, and that this had be- come a rule in the life of this illustrious couple, whose actions were governed by regularity. I spoke of this to the poet, and incidentally eulogized conjugal love. ‘ Which of the two do you prize more,’ asked Raychandbhai, ‘the love of Mrs. Gladstone for her husband as his Wife, or her devoted service irrespective of her relation to Mr. Glad- Stone? Supposing she had been his sister, or his devoted servant, and ministered to him with the same attention, what would you have said? Do we not have instances of such devoted sisters or Servants? Supposing you had found the same loving devotion in a male servant, would you have been pleased in the same way as in Mrs. Gladstone’s case? Just examine the view-point suggested by Me,’ Raychandbhai was himself married. I have an impression that at the moment his words sounded harsh, but they gripped me irre- Sistibly. The devotion of a servant was, I felt, a thousand times More praiseworthy than that of a wife to her husband. There was Nothing surprising in the wife’s devotion to her husband, as there Was an indissoluble bond between them. The devotion was perfectly Natural. But it required a special effort to cultivate equal devotion between master and servant. The poet’s point of view began gradualiy to grow upon me.
What then, I asked myself, should be my relation with my wife? Dia my faithfulness consist in making my wife the instrument of My lust? So long as I was the slave of lust, my faithfulness was Worth nothing. To be fair to my wife, I must say that she was Never the temptress. It was therefore the easiest thing for me to take the vow of brahmacharya, if only I willed it. It was my weak Will or lustful attachment that was the obstacle.
150 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH Even after my conscience had been roused in the matter, I failed twice. I failed because the motive that actuated the effort was none the highest. My main object was to escape having more children. Whilst in England I had read something about contraceptives. I have already referred to Dr. Allinson’s birth control propaganda in the chapter on Vegetarianism. If it had some temporary effect on me, Mr. Hill’s opposition to those methods and his advocacy of internal efforts as opposed to outward means, in a word, of self-control, had a far greater effect, which in due time came to be abiding. Seeing, therefore, that I did not desire more children I began to strive after self-control. There was endless difficulty in the task. We began to sleep in separate beds. I decided to retire to bed only after the day’s work had left me completely exhausted. All these efforts did not seem to bear much fruit, but when I look back upon the past, I feel that the final resolution was the cumulative effect of those unsuccessful strivings.
The final resolution could only be made as late as 1906. Satya- graha had not then been started. I had not the least notion of its coming. I was practising in Johannesburg at the time of the Zulu ‘Rebellion’ in Natal, which came soon after the Boer War. I felt that I must offer my services to the Natal Government on that occa- sion. The offer was accepted, as we shall see in another chapter. But the work set me furiously thinking in the direction of self-control and according to my wont I discussed my thoughts with my co-workers. It became my conviction that procreation and the consequent care of children were inconsistent with public service. I had to break up my household at Johannesburg to be able to serve during the ‘ Rebellion’, Within one month of offering my services, I had to give up the house I had so carefully furnished. I took my wife and children to Phoenix and led the Indian ambulance corps attached to the Natal forces, During the difficult marches that had then to be performed, the idea flashed upon me that if I wanted to devote myself to the service of the community in this manner, I must relinquish the desire for children and wealth and liv.
e the life of a vanaprastha — ir household cares. vanaprastha — of one retired from BRAHMACHARYA — II 151 the thing to be avoided. Or where can be the difficulty in making a final decision? I vow to flee from the serpent which I know will bite me, I do not simply make an effort to flee from him. I know that mere effort may mean certain death. Mere effort means igno- rance of the certain fact that the serpent is bound to kill me. The fact, therefore, that I could rest content with an effort only, means that I have not yet clearly realized the necessity of definite action. But supposing my views are changed in the future, how can I bind myself by a vow?’ Such a doubt often deters us. But that doubt also betrays a lack of clear perception that a particular thing must be renounced. That is why Nishkulanand has sung: ‘Renunciation without aversion is not lasting.’
Where therefore the desire is gone, a VOW of renunciation is the Natural and inevitable fruit.
VIII BRAHMACHARYA — I re deliberation I took the vow in hts with my wife until then, but f taking the vow. She had no After full discussion and matu: 1906. I had not shared my thous Only consulted her at the time © 1 objection, But I had great difficulty in making the final resolve. Thad not the necessary strength. How was I to control my passions?
he elimination of carnal relationship with one’s wife seemed then a strange thing. But I launched forth with faith in the sustaining Power of God.
As I look back upon the twenty years of the vow, I am filled with Pleasu ment. The more or less successful practice of ne and, wondenme e 1901. But the freedom and joy self-control had been going on sinc: at came to me after taking the vow had never been experienced before 1906. Before the vow I had porn open to being AET y tem: moment. Now the vow was a sure shie: en alae great potentiality of brakmacharya daily came more and more patent to me. The vow was taken when I Was in Phoenix. As soon as I was free from ambulance work, I went to Phoenix, whence I had to return to Johannesburg. In about a month of my returning there, the foundation of Satyagraha was - laid, As though unknown to me, the brahmacharya vow had been Preparing me for it. Satyagraha had not been a preconceived pian. came on spontaneously, without my having willed it. But I could See that all my previous steps had Jed up to that goal. I had cut own my hea household expenses at Johannesburg and gone to P vy the brahmacharya vow.
hænix to take, as it were, t observance of brahmacharya means The erfec' a esa Sale as y did not owe to a study of the Shastras.
152 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH It slowly grew upon me with experience. The shastric texts on the subject I read only later in life. Every day of the vow has taken me nearer the knowledge that in brahmacharya lies the protection of the body, the mind and the soul. For brahmacharya was now no process of hard penance, it was a matter of consolation and joy. Every day revealed a fresh beauty in it.
But if it was a matter of ever-increasing joy, let no one believe that it was an easy thing for me. Even when I am past fifty-six years, I realize how hard a thing it is. Every day I realize more and more that it is like walking on the sword’s edge, and I see every moment the necessity for eternal vigilance.
Control of the palate is the first essential in the observance of the vow. I found that complete control of the palate made the observance very easy, and so I now pursued my dietetic experiments not merely from the vegetarian’s but also from the brahmachari’s point of view. As the result of these experiments I saw that the brahmachari’s food should be limited, simple, spiceless, and, if possible, uncooked.
Six years of experiment have showed me that the brahmachari’s ideal food is fresh fruit and nuts. The immunity from passion that I enjoyed when I lived on this food was unknown to me after I changed that diet. Brahmacharya needed no effort on my part in South Africa when I lived on fruits and nuts alone. It has been a matter of very great effort ever since I began to take milk. How I had to go back to milk from a fruit diet will be considered in its proper place. It is enough to observe here that I have not the least doubt that milk diet makes the brahmacharya vow difficult to observe. Let no one deduce from this that all brahmacharis must give up milk. The effect on brahmacharya of different kinds of food can be determined only after numerous experiments. I have yet to find a fruit-substitute for milk which is an equally good muscle- builder and easily digestible. The doctors, vaidyas and hakims have alike failed to enlighten me. Therefore, though I‘know milk to be partly a stimulant, I cannot, for the time being, advise anyone to give it up.
As an external aid to brahmacharya, fasting is as necessary aS selection and restriction in diet. So overpowering are the senses that they can be kept under control only when they are completely hedged in on all sides, from above and from beneath. It is common knowledge that they are powerless without food, and so fasting undertaken with a view to control of the senses is, I have no doubt, very helpful. With some, fasting is of no avail, because assuming that mechanical fasting alone will make them immune, they keep their bodies without food, but feast their minds upon all sorts of delicacies, thinking all the while what they will eat and what they will drink after the fast terminates. Such fasting helps them in con- trolling neither palate nor lust. Fasting is useful, when mind co- operates with starving body, that is to say, when it cultivates a BRAHMACHARYA — II 153 distaste for the objects that are denied to the body. Mind is at the Toot of all sensuality. Fasting, therefore, has a limited use, for a fasting man may continue to be swayed by passion. But it may be said that extinction of the sexual passion is as a rule impossible without fasting, which may be said to be indispensable for the Observance of brahmacharya. Many aspirants after brahmacharya fail, because in the use of their other senses they want to carry on like those who are not brahmacharis. Their effort is, therefore, identical with the effort to experience the bracing cold of winter in the scorching summer months. There should be a clear line bet- Ween the life of a brahmachari and of one who is not. The resem- blance that there is between the two is only apparent. The distinction Ought to be clear as daylight. Both use their eyesight, but whereas the brahmachari uses it to see the glories of God, the other uses it to ‘see the frivolity around him. Both use their ears, but whereas the one hears nothing but praises of God, the other feasts his ears upon ribaldry. Both often keep late hours, but whereas the one devotes them to prayer, the other fritters them away in wild and Wasteful mirth. Both feed the inner man, but the one only to keep the temple of God in good repair, while the other gorges himself and makes the sacred vessel a stinking gutter. Thus both live as the poles apart, and the distance between them will grow and not diminish with the passage of time.
Brahmacharya means control of the senses in thought, word and deed. Every day I have been realizing more and more the necessity for restraints of the kind I have detailed above. There is no limit © the possibilities of renunciation even as there is none to those of brahmacharya, Such brahmacharya is impossible of attainment by limited effort. For many it must remain only as an ideal. An aspirant after brahmacharya will always be conscious of his short- comings, will seek out the passions lingering in the innermost Tecesses of his heart and will incessantly strive to get rid of them.
o long as thought is not under complete control of the will, brahma- Charya in its fulness is absent. Involuntary thought is an affection of the mind, and curbing of thought, therefore, means curbing of the ming which is even more difficult to curb than the wind. Never- theless the existence of God within makes even control of the mind Possible, Let no one think that it is impossible because it is difficult, t is the highest goal, and it is no wonder that the highest effort Should be necessary to attain it.
But it was after coming to India that I realized that such brahma- arya was impossible to attain by mere human effort. Until then had been labouring under the delusion that fruit diet alone would “nable me to eradicate all passions, and I had flattered myself with the belief that I had nothing more to do.
B let ch B let ch ut I must not anticipate the chapter of my struggle. Meanwhile me make it clear that those who desire to observe brahmacharya 154 MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH with a view to realizing God need not despair, provided their faith in God is equal to their confidence in their own effort.
fam aiaia agrea fga: 1 wW saa i gaa rade N ‘The sense-objects turn away from an abstemious soul, leaving the relish behind. The relish also disappears with the realization of the Highest.’ 1 Therefore His name and His grace are the last resources of the aspirant after moksha. This truth came to me only after my return to India.
IX SIMPLE LIFE I had started on a life of ease and comfort, but the experiment was short-lived. Although I had furnished the house with care, yet it failed to have any hold on me. So no sooner had I launched forth on that life, than I began to cut down expenses. The washerman’s bill was heavy, and as he was besides by no means noted for his punctuality, even two or three dozen shirts and collars proved in- sufficient for me. Collars had to be changed daily and shirts, if not daily, at least every alternate day. This meant a double expense, which appeared to me unnecessary. So I equipped myself with a washing outfit to save it. I bought a book on washing, studied the art and taught it also to my wife. This no doubt added to my work, but its novelty made it a pleasure.
I shall never forget the first collar that I washed myself. I had used more starch than necessary, the iron had not been made hot enough, and for fear of burning the collar I had not pressed it suffi- ciently. The result was that, though the collar was fairly stiff, the superfluous starch continually dropped off it. I went to court with the collar on, thus inviting the ridicule of brother barristers, but even in those days I could be impervious to ridicule.
‘Well,’ said I, ‘this is my first experiment at washing my own collars and hence the loose starch. But it does not trouble me, and then there is the advantage of providing you with so much fun.’
‘But surely there is no lack of laundries here?’ asked a friend.
‘The laundry bill is very heavy,’ said I. ‘The charge for washing a collar is almost as much as its price, and even then there is the eternal dependence on the washerman. I prifer by far to wash my things myself.’
1. The Bhagavadgita, 2-59.
SIMPLE LIFE: 155 But I could not make my friends appreciate the beauty of self- help. In course of time I became an expert washerman so far as my own work went, and my washing was by no means inferior to laundry washing. My collars were no less stiff or shiny than others.
When Gokhale came to South Africa, he had with him a scarf which was a gift from Mahadeo Govind Ranade. He treasured the memento with the utmost care and used it only on special occasions. One such occasion was the banquet given in his honour by the Johannesburg Indians. The scarf was creased and needed ironing. It was not possible to send it to the laundry and get it back in time.
I offered to try my art. ‘I can trust to your capacity as a lawyer but not as a washerman,’ said Gokhale. ‘What if you should soil it? Do you know what it means to me?’
With this he narrated, with much joy, the story of the gift. I still insisted, guaranteed good work, got his permission to iron it, and won his certificate. After that I did not mind if the rest of the world refused me its certificate.
In the same way, as I freed myself from slavery to the washer- man, I threw off dependence on the barber. All people who go to England learn there at least the art of shaving, but none, to my knowledge, learn to cut their own hair. I had to learn that too. I once went to an English hair-cutter in Pretoria. He contemptuously refused to cut my hair. I certainly felt hurt, but immediately pur- chased a pair of clippers and cut my hair before the mirror. I suc- ceeded more or less in cutting the front hair, but I spoiled the back. The friends in the court shook with laughter.
‘What’s wrong with your hair, Gandhi? Rats have been at it?”
: i rber would not condescend to touch my black ih L ae erate to cut it myself, no matter how badly.’
The reply did not surprise the friends.
t fault in having refused to cut my hair. The barber was not a e his losing his custom, if he should serve ce o: ke a: ot the reward of this in South Africa, not once, but any rene ae the conviction that it was the punishment for our own sins saved me from becoming angry. n etait aeni T forms in which my passion tor Sea i e expressed itself will be described in their proper place. Th d had been long sown. It only needed watering to G hee Se er and to fructify, and the watering came in due course, i x THE BOER WAR I must skip many other experiences of the period between 1897 and 1899 and come straight to the Boer War.
When the war was declared, my personal sympathies were all with the Boers, but I believed then that I had yet no right, in such cases, to enforce my individual convictions. I have minutely dealt with the inner struggle regarding this in my history of the Satya- graha in South Africa, and I must not repeat the argument here. I invite the curious to turn to those pages. Suffice it to say that my loyalty to the British rule drove me to participation with the British in that war. I felt that, if I demanded rights as a British citizen, it was also my duty, as such, to participate in the defence of the British Empire. I held then that India could achieve her complete emancipation only within and through the British Empire. So I collected together as many comrades as possible, and with very great difficulty got their services accepted as an ambulance corps.
The average Englishman believed that the Indian was a coward, incapable of taking risks or looking beyond his immediate self- interest. Many English friends, therefore, threw cold water on my plan. But Dr. Booth supported it whole-heartedly. He trained us in ambulance work. We secured medical certificates of fitness for service. Mr. Laughton and the late Mr. Escombe enthusiastically supported the plan, and we applied at last for service at the front. The Government thankfully acknowledged our application, but said that our services were not then needed.
I would not rest satisfied, however, with this refusal. Through the introduction of Dr. Booth, I called on the Bishop of Natal. There were many Christian Indians in our corps. The Bishop was delighted with my proposal and promised to help us in getting our services accepted.
Time too was working with us. The Boer had shown more pluck, determination and bravery than had been expected; and our ser- vices were ultimately needed.
Our corps was 1,100 strong, with nearly 40 leaders. About three hundred were free Indians and the rest indentured. Dr. Booth was also with us. The corps acquitted itself well. Though our work was to be outside the firing line, and though we had the protection of the Red Cross, we were asked at a critical moment to serve within the firing line. The reservation had not been of our seeking. The authorities did not want us to be within the range of fire. The situa- tion, however, was changed after the repulse at Spion Kop, and THE BOER WAR 157 General Buller sent the message that, though we were not bound to take the risk, Government would be thankful if we would do so and fetch the wounded from the field. We had no hesitation, and so the action at Spion Kop found us working within the firing line. During these days we had to march from twenty to twenty-five miles a day, bearing the wounded on stretchers. Amongst the wounded we had the honour of carrying soldiers like General Woodgate.
The corps was disbanded after six weeks’ service. After the re- verses at Spion Kop and Vaalkranz, the British Commander-in-Chief abandoned the attempt to relieve Ladysmith and other places by summary procedure, and decided to proceed slowly, awaiting rein- forcements from England and India.