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A Gallant Midshipman
When once again these rivers peaceful flow,
In this wild place a sea-born flower shall grow,
A flower that loved the salt wind and the sand—
The flower of daring. Crimson shall expand
The heart-shaped petals, so that men shall know
Its roots have kindred with the heart below
That gave its crimson blood for Fatherland.
Fell wounded, rose, marched forward, fell again,
Rose up and with his fellows clomb the hill;
To death thrice smitten—scorning shot and shell,
And heedless of the blood-drench and the pain
So he might serve his Queen and country still.
Sir,—It may interest your readers to have further confirmation as to how our gallant officers at the front are doing and dying. I beg, therefore, to enclose copy of a letter received by me from the Admiralty.
A brother Naval officer also writes:—“At the bottom of the hill he was hit in the arm, and half-way up he was shot in the leg, but still pressed on. On reaching the top of the kopje he was shot through the stomach, and fell, mortally wounded.”
I am, Sir, your obedient servant, James Huddart. Eastbourne, January 2.“Sir,—I am commanded by my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty to inform you that, in a letter dated 26th ult., Captain Marchant, R.M.L.I., who was left in command of the Naval Brigade with Lord Methuen's force after the action at Graspan, reported as follows:—‘It is with deep regret that I have to report the death of Midshipman Huddart, who behaved magnificently, and still advanced after he had been twice wounded, until he was finally struck down mortally wounded.’
“I am, Sir, your obedient servant, (Sgd.) “Evan Macgregor.” | Ballads of the War | |