A Story of War

Had a last evening’s dog shoot before coming down here on 3rd. Badly hit one pie behind the abattoir and I blew up another one in Borretts Park, not much game out. James drove us down and we had a look at his well in the Nullah.

Yesterday I went on a gasht and it rained with occasional snow, but I had a ground sheet which kept most of it off. Route was 72, 72 forward, peacock tree, and then Miller and I were ordered up to Zawata Manza ridge. This is “ungashted” country and a bloody place to get up. About four or five nullahs seem to converge at the foot of a knife edge, and we could have been enfiladed out of sight of the MG covering fire. A Tochi scout piquet was at the top, keen looking fellows squatting motionless with their rifles behind rocks. How different from the British soldier! They never moved or hardly spoke.

One of the machine gunners on guard last night shot himself in the thigh with his revolver. He saw a bit of rust on the hammer, and cocked it to clean it off. It went off and then exploded. It also must have been a dud charge as the bullet broke the bone and is lodged in the leg. No marks of burning either. He was a Grimsby man and claims he was so excited about Grimsby Town winning their cup match, that the accident happened.