#harry morant

[harrypotterhousequotes]

SLYTHERIN: "Shoot straight, you bastards! Don't make a mess of it!" --Harry "Breaker" Morant (attributed last words)

[zsuki]

Rule .303 made famous by Harry "Breaker" Morant and Englishman living in Australia at the start of the 20th century who enlisted in the Australian Armed Forces to help the British fight a war with the Boer's in South Africa. 

British policy to deal with the Boer "commandos" was to tell their men that any Boer found wearing khaki (the British uniform had changed by this time no more Red Coats) could be shot on sight to deter the Boer's from pretending to be British soldiers.Morant and his company while out to avenge the death of a close friend of his by Boer commando's came across a group who they believed had killed Morants friend, some of whom were dressed in the remants of British uniform (just a jacktet top) Morant set up a fireing squad and had the men shot dead with out any hearing. 

After the peace was declared Morant and two others were brought before a British Military court charged with murder. The Head of the British Army in South Africa sent his aid to the trial and had him commit purjury by denying any order to Kill Boer prisoners had been given. Atone point Morant was asked by the court under what rule or right did he kill the men and he answered that he shot them under rule 303 meaning the the Lee Enfield .303 rifle issued at the time. His meaning being that he shot them because he had the means to do so at hand and that was all the authority he needed.

ennyike!!

[flwords]

Shoot straight, you bastards! Don't make a mess of it.

Harry Morant (Anglo-Australian drover, horseman, poet, soldier and convicted war criminal, 1864 – 1902)

He was court-martialed and executed by the British, charged with killing Boer prisoners. To the end he claimed to have been following orders.

[frangomint]

At the River Crossing -- Harry 'The Breaker' Morant

Oh! the quiet river-crossing Where we twain were wont to ride, Where the wanton winds were to sing Willow branches o'er the tide.

There the golden noon would find us Dallying through the summer day, All the waery world behind us — All it's tumult far away.

Oh! thoe rides across the crossing Where the shallow stream runs wide, When the sunset's beams were glossing Strips of sand on either side.

We would cross the sparkling river On the brown horse and the bay; Watch the willows sway and shiver And their trembling shadows play.

When the opal tints waxed duller And a gray crept o'er the skies Yet there stayed the blue sky's color In your dreamy dark-blue eyes.

How the sun-god's bright caresses, When we rode at sunset there, Plaited among your braided tresses, Gleaming on your silky hair.

When the last sunlight's glory Faded off the sandy bars, There we learnt the old, old story, Riding homeward 'neat the stars.

'Tis a memory to be hoarded — Oh, the follish tale and fond! Till another stream be forded — And we reach the Great Beyond.

At times of stress, remember to read this poem. Doing so calms me. I expect it will help you too,