Showing posts with label frontier conflict. Show all posts
Showing posts with label frontier conflict. Show all posts

Tuesday, 26 April 2011

It's his rock



That’s worth bearing in mind when you hear some smart alec holding forth about our imperial wars being one-sided massacres of poor club-waving heathen mown down by Gatlings. Oh, it happened, at Ulundi and Washita and Omdurman — but more often than not the Snider and Martini and Brown Bess were facing odds of ten to one against in country where shrapnel and rapid fire doesn’t count for much; your savage with his blowpipe or bow or jezzail* behind a rock has a deuce of an advantage: it’s his rock, you see.


*Afghan musket


Flashman and the Mountain of Light, p.58, Fontana Paperback edition, 1991.


Tags: , , .

Thursday, 2 December 2010

One invariable rule



…there were many Sioux burial platforms, mostly broken and derelict, but some quite new, and the troops thought it great fun to scatter them to bits. I remarked in Terry’s hearing that it was bad medicine—for one thing, his Ree and Crow scouts wouldn’t like it—and he ordered it stopped. If you wonder why I put in my oar, I’ll answer that I’ve soldiered far and hard enough to learn one invariable rule, superstition or not: never monkey with the local gods. It don’t pay.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.289, Pan Books edition, 1983.



Tags:, , .

Wednesday, 3 November 2010

The days of beads and looking-glasses



Washington reached the conclusion you’d expect: treaty or no, the Sioux would have to give way. Allison’s task was to persuade them to surrender the hills in return for compensation, and that, to him, meant fixing a price and telling ’em to take it or leave it. He didn’t doubt they would take it; after all, he was a Senator, and they were a parcel of silly savages who couldn’t read or write; he would lecture them, and they would be astonished at his eloquence, pocket the cash without argument, and go away. It didn’t seem to weigh with him that to the Sioux the Black Hills were rather like Mecca to the Muslims, or that having no comprehension of land ownership, the idea of selling them was as ludicrous as selling the wind or the sky. Nor did he suspect that, even if their religious and philosophic scruples could be overcome, their notion of price and value had developed since the days of beads and looking-glasses.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.233, Pan Books edition, 1983.




Tags:, , .

Tuesday, 2 November 2010

Some natural law



There is some natural law that ensures that whenever civilization talks to the heathen, it is through the person of the most obstinate, short-sighted, arrogant, tactless clown available. You recall McNaughten at Kabul, perhaps? Well, Allison could have been his prize pupil.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.232, Pan Books edition, 1983.





Tags:, , .

Tuesday, 26 October 2010

Paying for policy



“Someone is going to have to pay for that policy sooner or later, I fear—probably someone in a blue coat earning $13 a month to guard his country’s frontier.”


Flashman and the Redskins, p.215, Pan Books edition, 1983.




Tags:, , .

Thursday, 30 September 2010

Damned crowded place




My little anthropologist would say it was all the white man’s fault for intruding; no doubt, but by that logic Ur of the Chaldees would be a damned crowded place by now.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.171, Pan Books edition, 1983.



Tags:, , .

Wednesday, 29 September 2010

Reservation or the grave



      The Indian’s tragedy was that being a spoiled and arrogant savage who wouldn’t lie down, and a brave and expert fighter who happened to be quite useless at war, he could only be suppressed with a brutality that often matched his own. It was the reservation or the grave, there was no other way.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.171, Pan Books edition, 1983.




Tags:, , .

Friday, 24 September 2010

Drains and bottled beer



      You see, it’s the great illusion of our civilization that when the poor heathen saw our steamships and elections and drains and bottled beer, he’d realise what a benighted ass he’d been and come into the fold. But he don’t. Oh, he’ll take what he fancies, and can use (cheap booze and rifles), but not on that account will he think we’re better. He knows different.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.170, Pan Books edition, 1983.




Tags:, , .

Thursday, 23 September 2010

A different mystery on the bestial floor



This twisted morality is almost impossible for white folk to understand; they look for excuses, and say the poor savage don’t know right from wrong. Jack Cremony had the best answer to that: if you think an Apache can’t tell right from wrong—wrong him and see what happens.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.169, Pan Books edition, 1983.




Tags:, , .

Tuesday, 21 September 2010

An Apache ponders



Why should the Americanos try to force their law on us? . . . It is because their spirit tells them to spread their law to all people, and they believe their spirit is better than ours.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.167, Pan Books edition, 1983.




Tags:, , .

Thursday, 12 August 2010

Men in fear and rage



“What bleating breast-beaters like you can’t comprehend,” I went on at the top of my voice, while the toadies pawed at me and yapped for the porters, “is that when selfish frightened men—in other words, any men, red or white, civilized or savage—come face to face in the middle of a wilderness that both of ‘em want, the Lord alone knows why, then war breaks out, and the weaker go under. Policies don’t matter a spent piss—it’s the men in fear and rage and uncertainty watching the woods and skyline, d’you see, you purblind bookworm, you! And you burble about enlightenment, by God— ”


Flashman and the Redskins, p.20, Pan Books edition, 1983.



Tags:, , .