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W. S. R. Hodson. Twelve Years of a Soldier's Life in India
Twelve Years of a Soldier's Life in India
Table of Contents
PART I
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
PART II. NARRATIVE OF THE DELHI CAMPAIGN, 1857, 1858
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
TWELVE YEARS. OF A. SOLDIER'S LIFE IN INDIA
PART I
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
PART II
NARRATIVE OF THE DELHI CAMPAIGN, 1857
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CONCLUDING CHAPTER
FOOTNOTES:
Отрывок из книги
W. S. R. Hodson
Being Extracts from the Letters of the Late Major W. S. R. Hodson, B. A
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After mentioning a delay caused by an attack of fever and dysentery, on his way to the camp, he proceeds:—
I was able, however, to join the Grenadiers at four o'clock on the morning of the 7th, and share their dusty march of ten miles to the village near which the Governor-General's camp was pitched. Since that day we have been denizens of a canvas city of a really astonishing extent, seeing that it is the creation of a few hours, and shifts with its enormous population, some ten or fifteen miles a day. I wonder more every day at the ease and magnitude of the arrangements, and the varied and interesting pictures continually before our eyes. Soon after four A. M., a bugle sounds the reveille, and the whole mass is astir at once. The smoke of the evening fires has by this time blown away, and everything stands out clear and defined in the bright moonlight. The Sepoys, too, bring the straw from their tents, and make fires to warm their black faces on all sides, and the groups of swarthy redcoats stooping over the blaze, with a white background of canvas, and the dark clear sky behind all, produce a most picturesque effect as one turns out into the cold. Then the multitudes of camels, horses, and elephants, in all imaginable groups and positions—the groans and cries of the former as they stoop and kneel for their burdens, the neighing of hundreds of horses mingling with the shouts of the innumerable servants and their masters' calls, the bleating of sheep and goats, and louder than all, the shrill screams of the Hindoo women, almost bewilder one's senses as one treads one's way through the canvas streets and squares to the place where the regiment assembles outside the camp.
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