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Churchill, Winston S., Sir, 1874-1965

"The Story of the Malakand Field Force An Episode of Frontier War"

Henceforward a line of signal stations with their flickering
helios would be the only links. We were at the end of the wire. I have
often stood at the other and watched the tape machine click off the news
as it arrives; the movements of the troops; the prospects of action; the
fighting; the casualties. How different are the scenes. The club on an
autumn evening--its members grouped anxiously around, discussing,
wondering, asserting; the noise of the traffic outside; the cigarette
smoke and electric lights within. And, only an hour away along the wire,
the field, with the bright sunlight shining on the swirling muddy
waters; the black forbidding rocks; the white tents of the brigade a
mile up the valley; the long streak of vivid green rice crop by the
river; and in the foreground the brown-clad armed men. I can never doubt
which is the right end to be at. It is better to be making the news than
taking it; to be an actor rather than a critic.
To cross the bridge, it was necessary to dismount and lead the horses
over in single file.


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