1899 - Diary of the siege of Mafeking by Edward Ross
Thursday, 21 December
Again a very quiet day, only two big shells from the enemy, one of which late in the afternoon struck the west corner of the Market Square and, bursting, sent three or four large pieces into the Mafeking Hotel, one of which was within an ace of killing the barman. Exceedingly narrow escape.
A peculiar idea seems to have got round the town that in some manner, the Boers are firing some sort of noiseless rifle. It has been noticed by almost everybody that a volley of bullets will come whizzing down the street without the slightest report being heard at all and this in the dead of night, sometimes, when the slightest noise can be heard; and the funny tiring is that probably just afterwards another volley of Mauser bullets will come over us, under us, and all round us, with a swish, swish, ping, ping, and report of the rifles almost like a small cannon.
A man named Poulteney fell in a fit just outside the Court House today; in falling he struck his head against a stone, causing blood to flow freely. At the moment we thought he was shot, but he soon got all right again.
Another casualty today, one of the P.R. mortally wounded whilst out sniping.
Our little Nordenfeldt, although without sights, has been doing some very good work sniping at the enemy’s big gun. To say the least of it, she is a cheeky little beast with her 1-pound shot; imagine them taking her to within 1400 yards of the big gun and having a miniature artillery duel, one pounder against 94-pounder. The man who is working our little spitfire is one of the pluckiest chaps you could ever meet. We sit with our glasses watching his movements, he works away for some little time, you then suddenly see him get under cover and on looking the other way you see the smoke from the enemy’s big gun, and a few seconds after you see our little Nordenfeldt disappear in a cloud of dust, and you think it must have been carried away by the bursting of the shell, but before the dust has properly cleared away ping, ping, goes the little Nordenfeldt. One cannot help sitting and laughing at the serious comedy of the two guns. It is almost too ridiculous and yet extremely useful as it kept the attention of old Creetje off the town.
