Transcriber’s note: Obvious printer’s errors have been corrected, all
other inconsistencies are as in the original. The author’s spelling has
been maintained.

Page 453: The sentence “which [missing word] consider it as still
improper to disclose.” has been changed to “which I consider as still
improper to disclose.”

General Ben Viljoen and his Secretary (Mr. J. Visser).

MY REMINISCENCES OF THE ANGLO-BOER WAR

BY

GENERAL BEN VILJOEN

(ASSISTANT COMMANDANT-GENERAL OF THE TRANSVAAL BURGHER FORCES AND MEMBER
FOR JOHANNESBURG IN THE TRANSVAAL VOLKSRAAD)

Maps from Drawings by P. Van Breda

LONDON:
HOOD, DOUGLAS, & HOWARD,
11, CLIFFORD’S INN, E.C.
1902.

(p. 005) PREFACE.

General Ben Viljoen, while engaged on this work, requested me to write a
short introduction to it. This request I gladly comply with.

General Viljoen was a prisoner-of-war at Broadbottom Camp, St. Helena,
where, after two years’ service in South Africa, I was stationed with my
regiment. It was at the General’s further request that I conveyed this
work to Europe for publication.

The qualities which particularly endeared this brave and justly-famous
Boer officer to us were his straightforwardness and unostentatious
manner, his truthfulness, and (p. 006) the utter absence of
affectation that distinguishes him. I am certain that he has written his
simple narrative with candour and impartiality, and I feel equally
certain, from what I know of him, that this most popular of our late
opponents has reviewed the exciting episodes of the War with an honesty,
an intelligence, and a humour which many previous publications on the
War have lacked.

During his stay at St. Helena I became deeply attached to General
Viljoen; and in conclusion I trust that this work, which entailed many
hours of labour, will yield him a handsome recompense.

THEODORE BRINCKMAN, C.B.
Colonel Commanding,
3rd, The Buffs (East Kent Regt.)

Tarbert,
Loch Fyne,
Scotland.
September, 1902

(p. 007) INDEX TO CONTENTS.

(p. 009) THE AUTHOR TO THE READER.

In offering my readers my reminiscences of the late War, I feel that it
is necessary to ask their indulgence and to plead extenuating
circumstances for many obvious shortcomings.

It should be pointed out that the preparation of this work was attended
with many difficulties and disabilities, of which the following were
only a few:—

We Boers experienced similar treatment from our custodian, Colonel
Price, who appeared to be possessed with the very demon of distrust and
who conjured up about us the same fantastic and mythical plans of escape
as Sir Hudson Lowe attributed to Napoleon. It is to his absurd
suspicions about our safe custody that I trace the bitterly offensive
regulations enforced on us.

While engaged upon this work, Colonel Price could have pounced down upon
me at any moment, and, having discovered the manuscript, would certainly
have promptly pronounced the writing of it in conflict with the terms of
my “parole.”

I have striven as far as possible to refrain from criticism, except when
compelled to do so, and to give a coherent story, so that the reader may
easily follow the episodes I have sketched. I have also endeavoured to
be impartial, or, at least, so impartial as an erring human being can be
who has just (p. 012) quitted the bloody battlefields of a bitter
struggle.

But the sword is still wet, and the wound is not yet healed.

I would assure my readers that it has not been without hesitation that I
launch this work upon the world. There have been many amateur and
professional writers who have preceded me in overloading the reading
public with what purport to be “true histories” of the War. But having
been approached by friends to add my little effort to the ponderous
tomes of War literature, I have written down that which I saw with my
own eyes, and that which I personally experienced. If seeing is
believing, the reader may lend credence to my recital of every incident
I have herein recounted.

During the last stages of the struggle, when we were isolated from the
outside world, we read in newspapers and other printed matter captured
from the British so many romantic and fabulous stories about ourselves,
that we were sometimes in doubt whether people in Europe and elsewhere
would really (p. 013) believe that we were ordinary human beings and
not legendary monsters. On these occasions I read circumstantial reports
of my death, and once a long, and by no means flattering, obituary
(extending over several columns of a newspaper) in which I was compared
to Garibaldi, “Jack the Ripper,” and Aguinaldo. On another occasion I
learned from British newspapers of my capture, conviction, and execution
in the Cape Colony for wearing the insignia of the Red Cross. I read
that I had been brought before a military court at De Aar and sentenced
to be shot, and what was worse, the sentence was duly confirmed and
carried out. A very lurid picture was drawn of the execution. Bound to a
chair, and placed near my open grave, I had met my doom with “rare
stoicism and fortitude.” “At last,” concluded my amiable biographer,
“this scoundrel, robber, and guerilla leader, Viljoen, has been safely
removed, and will trouble the British Army no longer.” I also learned
with mingled feelings of amazement and pride that, being imprisoned at
Mafeking at the commencement of hostilities, (p. 014) General
Baden-Powell had kindly exchanged me for Lady Sarah Wilson.

To be honest, none of the above-mentioned reports were strictly
accurate. I can assure the reader that I was never killed in action or
executed at De Aar, I was never in Mafeking or any other prison in my
life (save here at St. Helena), nor was I in the Cape Colony during the
War. I never masqueraded with a Red Cross, and I was never exchanged for
Lady Sarah Wilson. Her ladyship’s friends would have found me a very
poor exchange.

It is also quite inaccurate and unfair to describe me as a “thief” and
“a scoundrel”. It was, indeed, not an heroic thing to do, seeing that
the chivalrous gentlemen of the South African Press who employed the
epithets were safely beyond my view and reach, and I had no chance of
correcting their quite erroneous impressions. I could neither refute nor
defend myself against their infamous libels, and for the rest, my friend
“Mr. Atkins” kept us all exceedingly busy.

That which is left of Ben Viljoen after
the (p. 015) several “coups de
grace” in the field and the tragic execution at De Aar, still “pans” out
at a fairly robust young person—quite an ordinary young fellow, indeed,
thirty-four years of age, of middle height and build. Somewhere in the
Marais Quartier of Paris—where the French Huguenots came from—there
was an ancestral Viljoen from whom I am descended. In the War just
concluded I played no great part of my own seeking. I met many
compatriots who were better soldiers than myself; but on occasions I was
happily of some small service to my Cause and to my people.

The chapters I append are, like myself, simple in form. If I have become
notorious it is not my fault; it is the fault of the newspaper
paragraphist, the snap-shooter, and the autograph fiend; and in these
pages I have endeavoured, as far as possible, to leave the stage to more
prominent actors, merely offering myself as guide to the many
battlefields on which we have waged our unhappy struggle.

I shall not disappoint the reader by promising (p. 016) him sensational
or thrilling episodes. He will find none such in these pages; he will
find only a naked and unembellished story.

BEN J. VILJOEN.
(Assistant Commandant-General
of the Republican Forces.)

St. Helena,
June, 1902[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 017) MY REMINISCENCES

OF THE

ANGLO-BOER WAR

CHAPTER I.

THE WAR CLOUDS GATHER.

In 1895 the political clouds gathered thickly and grew threatening. They
were unmistakable in their portent. War was meant, and we heard the
martial thunder rumbling over our heads.

The storm broke in the shape of an invasion from Rhodesia on our Western
frontiers, a raid planned by soldiers of a friendly power.

However one may endeavour to argue the chief cause of the South African
war to other issues, it remains an irrebuttable fact that the Jameson
Raid was primarily responsible for (p. 018) the hostilities which
eventually took place between Great Britain and the Boer Republics.

Mr. Rhodes, the sponsor and deus ex machinâ of the Raid, could not
agree with Mr. Paul Kruger, and had failed in his efforts to establish
friendly relations with him. Mr. Kruger, quite as stubborn and ambitious
as Mr. Rhodes, placed no faith in the latter’s amiable proposals, and
the result was that fierce hatred was engendered between the two
Gideons, a racial rancour spreading to fanatical lengths.

Dr. Jameson’s stupid raid is now a matter of history; but from that
fateful New Year’s Day of 1896 we Boers date the terrible trials and
sufferings to which our poor country has been exposed. To that
mischievous incident, indeed, we directly trace the struggle now
terminated.

This invasion, which was synchronous with an armed rebellion at
Johannesburg, was followed by the arrest and imprisonment of the
so-called gold magnates of the Witwatersrand. Whether these exceedingly
wealthy but extremely degenerate sons of Albion and (p. 019) Germania
deserved the death sentence pronounced upon their leaders at Pretoria
for high treason it is not for me to judge.

I do recall, however, what an appeal for mercy there went up, how
piteously the Transvaal Government was petitioned and supplicated, and
finally moved “to forgive and forget.” The same faction who now press so
obdurately for “no mercy” upon the Colonial Afrikanders who joined us,
then supplicated all the Boer gods for forgiveness.

Meantime the Republic was plagued by the rinderpest scourge, which
wrought untold havoc throughout the country. This scourge was preceded
by the dynamite disaster at Vrededorp (near Johannesburg) and the
railway disaster at Glencoe in Natal. It was succeeded by a smallpox
epidemic, which, in spite of medical efforts, grew from sporadic to
epidemic and visited all classes of the Rand, exacting victims wherever
it travelled. During the same period difficulties occurred in Swaziland
necessitating the despatch of a strong commando to the disaffected
district and the maintenance of a garrison at Bremersdorp. (p. 020) The
following year hostilities were commenced against the Magato tribe in
the north of the Republic.

After an expensive expedition, lasting six months, the rebellion was
quelled. There was little doubt that the administration of unfaithful
native commissioners was in part responsible for the difficulties, but
there is less doubt that external influences also contributed to the
rebellion. This is not the time, however, to tear open old wounds.

Mr. Rhodes has disappeared from the stage for ever; he died as he had
lived. His relentless enemy Mr. Kruger, who was pulling the strings at
the other end, is still alive. Perhaps the old man may be spared to see
the end of the bloody drama; it was undoubtedly he and Mr. Rhodes who
played the leading parts in the prologue.

Which of these two “Big Men” took the greatest share in bringing about
the Disaster which has drenched South Africa with blood and draped it in
mourning, it would be improper for me at this period to suggest. Mr.
Rhodes has been summoned before a (p. 021) Higher Tribunal; Mr. Kruger
has still to come up for judgment before the people whose fate, and very
existence as a nation, are, at the time of writing, wavering in the
balance.

We have been at one another’s throats, and for this we have to thank our
“statesmen.” It is to be hoped that our leaders of the future will
attach more value to human lives, and that Boer and Briton will be
enabled to live amicably side by side.

A calm and statesmanlike government by men free from ambition and racial
rancour, by men of unblemished reputation, will be the only means of
pacifying South Africa and keeping South Africa pacified.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 022) CHAPTER II.

AND THE WAR STORM BREAKS.

It was during a desultory discussion of an ordinary sessions of the
Second Volksraad, in which I represented Johannesburg, that one day in
September, 1899—to be precise, the afternoon of the 28th—the messenger
of the House came to me with a note, and whispered, “A message from
General Joubert, Sir; it is urgent, and the General says it requires
your immediate attention.”

I broke the seal of the envelope with some trepidation. I guessed its
contents, and a few of my colleagues in the Chamber hung over me almost
speechless with excitement, whispering curiously, “Jong, is dit
fout?”—”Is this correct. Is it war?”

Everybody knew, of course, that we were in for a supreme crisis, that
the relations between Great Britain and our Republic were strained
(p. 023) to the bursting point, that bitter diplomatic notes had been
exchanged between the governments of the two countries for months past,
and that a collision, an armed collision, was sooner or later
inevitable.

Being “Fighting-Commandant” of the Witwatersrand goldfields, and,
therefore, an officer of the Transvaal army, my movements on that day
excited great interest among my colleagues in the Chamber. After reading
General Joubert’s note I said, as calmly as possible: “Yes, the die is
cast; I am leaving for the Natal frontier. Good-bye. I must now quit the
house. Who knows, perhaps for ever!”

General Joubert’s mandate was couched as follows:—

“You are hereby ordered to proceed with the Johannesburg
commando to Volksrust to-morrow, Friday evening, at 8
o’clock. Your field cornets have already received
instructions to commandeer the required number of burghers
and the necessary horses, waggons, and equipment.
Instructions have also been given for the necessary railway
conveyances to be held ready. Further instructions will
reach you.”

Previous to my departure next morning (p. 024) I made a hurried call at
Commandant-General Joubert’s offices. The ante-chamber leading to the
Generalissimo’s “sanctum-sanctorum” was crowded with brilliantly-uniformed
officers of our State Artillery, and it was only by dint of using my
elbows very vigorously that I gained admission to my chief-in-command.

The old General seemed to feel keenly the gravity of the situation. He
looked careworn and troubled: “Good-morning, Commandant,” he said;
“aren’t you away yet?”

I explained that I was on my way to the railway station, but I thought
before I left I’d like to see him about one or two things.

“Well, go on, what is it?” General Joubert enquired, petulantly.

“I want to know, General Joubert,” I said, “whether England has declared
war against us, or whether we are taking the lead. And another thing,
what sort of general have I to report myself to at Volksrust?”

The old warrior, without looking up or immediately answering me, drew
various cryptic and hieroglyphic pothooks and figures (p. 025) on the
paper before him. Then he suddenly lifted his eyes and pierced me with a
look, at which I quailed and trembled.

He said very slowly: “Look here; there is as yet no declaration of war,
and hostilities have not yet commenced. You and my other officers should
understand that very clearly, because possibly the differences between
ourselves and Great Britain may still be settled. We are only going to
occupy our frontiers because England’s attitude is extremely
provocative, and if England see that we are fully prepared and that we
do not fear her threats, she will perhaps be wise in time and reconsider
the situation. We also want to place ourselves in a position to prevent
and quell a repetition of the Jameson Raid with more force than we
exerted in 1896.”

An hour afterwards I was on board a train travelling to Johannesburg in
the company of General Piet Cronje and his faithful wife. General Cronje
told me that he was proceeding to the western districts of the Republic
to take up the command of the Potchefstroom and Lichtenburg burghers.
His instructions, (p. 026) he said, were to protect the Western
frontier.

I left General Cronje at Johannesburg on the 29th September, 1899, and
never saw him again until I met him at St. Helena nearly two and a half
years afterwards, on the 25th March, 1902. When I last saw him we
greeted each other as free men, as free and independent legislators and
officers of a free Republic. We fought for our rights to live as a
nation.

Now I meet the veteran Cronje a broken old man, captive like myself, far
away from our homes and our country.

Then and Now!

Then we went abroad free and freedom-loving men, burning with
patriotism. Our wives and our women-folk watched us go; full of sorrow
and anxiety, but satisfied that we were going abroad in our country’s
cause.

And Now!

Two promising and prosperous Republics wrecked, their fair homesteads
destroyed, their people in mourning, and thousands of innocent (p. 027)
women and children the victims of a cruel war.

There is scarcely an Afrikander family without an unhealable wound.
Everywhere the traces of the bloody struggle; and, alas, most poignant
and distressing fact of all, burghers who fought side by side with us in
the earlier stages of the struggle are now to be found in the ranks of
the enemy.

These wretched men, ignoring their solemn duty, left their companions in
the lurch without sense of shame or respect for the braves who fell
fighting for their land and people.

Oh, day of judgment! The Afrikander nation will yet avenge your
treachery.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 028) CHAPTER III.

THE INVASION OF NATAL.

After taking leave of my friend Cronje at Johannesburg Station, my first
duty was to visit my various field cornets. About four o’clock that
afternoon I found my commando was as nearly ready as could be expected.
When I say ready, I mean ready on paper only, as later experience
showed. My three field cornets were required to equip 900 mounted men
with waggons and provisions, and of course they had carte blanche to
commandeer. Only fully enfranchised burghers of the South African
Republic were liable to be commandeered, and in Johannesburg town there
was an extraordinary conglomeration of cosmopolitans amenable to this
gentle process of enlistment.

It would take up too much time to adequately describe the excitement of
Johannesburg on this memorable day. Thousands (p. 029) of Uitlanders
were flying from their homes, contenting themselves, in their hurry to
get away, to stand in Kaffir or coal trucks and to expose themselves
cheerfully to the fierce sun, and other elements. The streets were
palpitating with burghers ready to proceed to the frontier that night,
and with refugees speeding to the stations. Everybody was in a state of
intense feeling. One was half-hearted, another cheerful, and a third
thirsting for blood, while many of my men were under the influence of
alcohol.

When it was known that I had arrived in the town my room in the North
Western Hotel was besieged. I was approached by all sorts of people
pleading exemption from commando duty. One Boer said he knew that his
solemn duty was to fight for his country and his freedom, but he would
rather decline. Another declared that he could not desert his family;
while yet another came forward with a story that of his four horses,
three had been commandeered, and that these horses were his only means
of subsistence. A fourth complained that his waggons and (p. 030) mules
had been clandestinely (although officially) removed. Many malingerers
suddenly discovered acute symptoms of heart disease and brought
easily-obtained doctor’s certificates, assuring me that tragic
consequences would attend their exposure in the field. Ladies came to me
pleading exemption for their husbands, sisters for brothers, mothers for
sons, all offering plausible reasons why their loved ones should be
exempted from commando duty. It was very difficult to deal with all
these clamorous visitors. I was much in the position of King Solomon,
though lacking his wisdom. But I would venture to say that his ancient
majesty himself would have been perplexed had he been in my place. It is
necessary that the reader should know that the main part of the
population was composed of all nationalities and lacked every element of
Boer discipline.

On the evening of the 29th of September, I left with the Johannesburg
commando in two trains. Two-thirds of my men had no personal
acquaintance with me, and at the (p. 031) departure there was some
difficulty because of this. One burgher came into my private compartment
uninvited. He evidently forgot his proper place, and when I suggested to
him that the compartment was private and reserved for officers, he told
me to go to the devil, and I was compelled to remove him somewhat
precipitately from the carriage. This same man was afterwards one of my
most trustworthy scouts.

The following afternoon we reached Standerton, where I received
telegraphic instructions from General Joubert to join my commando to
that of Captain Schiel, who was in charge of the German Corps, and to
place myself under the supreme command of Jan Kock, a member of the
Executive Council, who had been appointed a general by the Government.

We soon discovered that quite one-third of the horses we had taken with
us were untrained for the serious business of fighting, and also that
many of the new burghers of foreign nationality had not the slightest
idea how to ride. Our first parade, or (p. 032) “Wapenschouwing” gave
food for much hilarity. Here one saw horses waltzing and jumping, while
over there a rider was biting the sand, and towards evening the doctors
had several patients. It may be stated that although not perfectly
equipped in the matter of ambulances, we had three physicians with us,
Doctors Visser, Marais, and Shaw. Our spiritual welfare was being looked
after by the Reverends Nel and Martins, but not for long, as both these
gentlemen quickly found that commando life was unpleasant and left us
spiritually to ourselves, even as the European Powers left us
politically. But I venture to state that no member of my commando really
felt acutely the loss of the theological gentlemen who primarily
accompanied us.

The Capture of the Train at Elandslaagte.

On the following day General Kock and a large staff arrived at the
laager, and, together with the German Corps, we trekked to Paardakop and
Klip River, in the Orange Free State, where we were to occupy Botha’s
Pass. My convoy comprised about a hundred carts, mostly drawn by mules,
and it was amusing (p. 033) to see the variety of provisions my
worthy field-cornets had gathered together. There were three full
waggons of lime-juice and other unnecessary articles which I caused to
be unloaded at the first halting-place to make room for more serviceable
provisions. It should be mentioned that of my three field-cornets only
one, the late Piet Joubert of Jeppestown, actually accompanied my
commando. The others sent substitutes, perhaps because they did not like
to expose themselves to the change of air. We rested some days at the
Klip River, in the Orange Free State, and from thence I was sent with a
small escort of burghers by our General to Harrismith to meet a number
of Free State officers. After travelling two days I came upon Chief Free
State Commandant Prinsloo, who afterwards deserted, and other officers.
The object of my mission was to organise communications with these
officers. On the 11th of October, having returned to my commando, we
received a report that our Government had despatched the Ultimatum to
England, and that the time specified for (p. 034) the reply to that
document had elapsed. Hostilities had begun.

We received orders to invade Natal, and crossed the frontier that very
evening. I, with a patrol of 50 men, had not crossed the frontier very
far when one of my scouts rode up with the report that a large British
force was in sight on the other side of the River Ingogo. I said to
myself at the time: “If this be true the British have rushed up fairly
quickly, and the fat will be in the fire very soon.”

We then broke into scattered formation and carefully proceeded into
Natal. After much reconnoitring and concealment, however, we soon
discovered that the “large English force” was only a herd of cattle
belonging to friendly Boers, and that the camp consisted of two tents
occupied by some Englishmen and Kaffirs who were mending a defective
bridge. We also came across a cart drawn by four bullocks belonging to a
Natal farmer, and I believe this was the first plunder we captured in
Natal. The Englishman, who said he knew nothing about any war, received
a pass to (p. 035) proceed with his servants to the English lines, and
he left with the admonition to in future read the newspapers and learn
when war was imminent. Next day our entire commando was well into Natal.
The continuous rain and cold of the Drakenbergen rendered our first
experience of veldt life, if not unbearable, very discouraging. We
numbered a fairly large commando, as Commandant J. Lombard, commanding
the Hollander corps, had also joined us. Close by Newcastle we
encountered a large number of commandos, and a general council of war
was held under the presidency of Commandant General Joubert. It was here
decided that Generals Lukas Meyer and Dijl Erasmus should take Dundee,
which an English garrison held, while our commandos under General Kock
were instructed to occupy the Biggarburg Pass. Preceded by scouts we
wound our way in that direction, leaving all our unnecessary baggage in
the shape of provisions and ammunition waggons at Newcastle.

One of my acting field-cornets and the field-cornets of the German
commando, prompted by goodness knows what, pressed (p. 036) forward
south, actually reaching the railway station at Elandslaagte. A goods
train was just steaming into the station, and it was captured by these
foolhardy young Moltkes. I was much dissatisfied with this action, and
sent a messenger ordering them to retire after having destroyed the
railway. On the same night I received instructions from General Kock to
proceed with two hundred men and a cannon to Elandslaagte, and I also
learned that Captain Schiel and his German Corps had left in the same
direction.

Imagine, we had gone further than had actually been decided at the
council of war, and we pressed forward still further without any attempt
being made to keep in touch with the other commandos on our left and
right. Seeing the inexpediency of this move, I went to the General in
command and expressed my objections to it. But General Kock was firmly
decided on the point, and said, “Go along, my boy.” We reached
Elandslaagte at midnight; it was raining very heavily. After scrambling
for positions in (p. 037) the darkness, although I had already
sufficiently seen that the lie of the land suggested no strategic
operations, we retired to rest. Two days later occurred the fateful
battle.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 038) CHAPTER IV.

DEFEATED AT ELANDSLAAGTE.

In the grey dawn of the 21st of October a number of scouts I had
despatched overnight in the direction of Ladysmith returned with the
tidings that “the khakis were coming.” “Where are they, and how many are
there of them?” I asked. “Commandant,” the chief scout replied, “I don’t
know much about these things, but I should think that the English number
quite a thousand mounted men, and they have guns, and they have already
passed Modderspruit.” To us amateur soldiers this report was by no means
reassuring, and I confess I hoped fervently that the English might stay
away for some little time longer.

It was at sunrise that the first shot I heard in this war was fired.
Presently the men we dreaded were visible on the ridges of hills south
of the little red railway station at (p. 039) Elandslaagte. Some of my
men hailed the coming fight with delight; others, more experienced in
the art of war, turned deadly pale. That is how the Boers felt in their
first battle. The awkward way in which many of my men sought cover,
demonstrated at once how inexperienced in warfare we youngsters were. We
started with our guns and tried a little experimental shooting. The
second and third shots appeared to be effective; at any rate, as far as
we could judge, they seemed to disturb the equanimity of the advancing
troops. I saw an ammunition cart deprived of its team and generally
smashed.

The British guns appeared to be of very small calibre indeed. Certainly
they failed to reach us, and all the harm they did was to send a shell
through a Boer ambulance within the range of fire. This shot was, I
afterwards ascertained, purely accidental. When the British found that
we too, strange to say, had guns, and, what is more, knew how to use
them, they retired towards Ladysmith. But this was merely a ruse; they
had gone back to fetch more. Still, though it was a ruse, we (p. 040)
were cleverly deceived by it, and while we were off-saddling and
preparing the mid-day meal they were arranging a new and more formidable
attack. From the Modderspruit siding they were pouring troops brought
down by rail, and although we had a splendid chance of shelling the
newcomers from the high kopje we occupied, General Kock, who was in
supreme command of our corps, for some reason which has never been
explained, refused to permit us to fire upon them. I went to General
Kock and pleaded with him, but he was adamant. This was a bitter
disappointment to me, but I consoled myself with the thought that the
General was much older than myself, and had been fighting since he was a
baby. I therefore presumed he knew better. Possibly if we younger
commanders had had more authority in the earlier stages of the war, and
had had less to deal with arrogant and stupid old men, we should have
reached Durban and Cape Town.

I must here again confess that none of my men displayed any of the
martial determination with which they had so buoyantly proceeded
(p. 041) from Johannesburg. To put it bluntly, some of them were
“footing” it and the English cavalry, taking advantage of this, were
rapidly outflanking them. The British tactics were plain enough. General
French had placed his infantry in the centre with three field batteries
(fifteen pounders), while his cavalry, with Maxims, encompassed our
right and left. He was forming a crescent, with the obvious purpose of
turning our position with his right and left wing. When charging at the
close of the attack the cavalry, which consisted mainly of lancers, were
on both our flanks, and completely prevented our retreat. It was not
easy to estimate the number of our assailant’s forces. Judging roughly,
I calculated they numbered between 5,000 and 6,000, while we were 800
all told, and our artillery consisted merely of two Nordenfeldt guns
with shell, and no grape shot.

The British certainly meant business that day. It was the baptismal fire
of the Imperial Light Horse, a corps principally composed of
Johannesburgers, who were politically and racially our bitter enemies.
And what was (p. 042) more unfortunate, our guns were so much exposed
that they were soon silenced. For a long time we did our best to keep
our opponents at bay, but they came in crushing numbers, and speedily
dead and maimed burghers covered the veldt. Then the Gordon Highlanders
and the other infantry detachments commenced to storm our positions. We
got them well within the range of our rifle fire, and made our presence
felt; but they kept pushing on with splendid determination and
indomitable pluck, though their ranks were being decimated before our
very eyes.

This was the first, as it was the last time in the War that I heard a
British band playing to cheer attacking “Tommies.” I believe it used to
be a British war custom to rouse martial instincts with lively music,
but something must have gone wrong with the works in this War, there
must have occurred a rift in the lute, for ever after this first battle
of Elandslaagte the British abandoned flags, banners, and bands and
other quite unnecessary furniture.

About half an hour before sunset, the enemy had come up close to our
positions and on all (p. 043) sides a terrible battle raged. To keep
them back was now completely out of the question. They had forced their
way between a kloof, and while rushing up with my men towards them, my
rifle was smashed by a bullet. A wounded burgher handed me his and I
joined Field-Cornet Peter Joubert who, with seven other burghers, was
defending the kloof. We poured a heavy fire into the British, but they
were not to be shaken off. Again and again they rushed up in
irresistible strength, gallantly encouraged by their brave officers.
Poor Field-Cornet Joubert perished at this point.

When the sun had set and the awful scene was enveloped in darkness there
was a dreadful spectacle of maimed Germans, Hollanders, Frenchmen,
Irishmen, Americans, and Boers lying on the veldt. The groans of the
wounded were heartrending; the dead could no longer speak. Another
charge, and the British, encouraged by their success, had taken our last
position, guns and all. My only resource now was to flee, and the battle
of Elandslaagte was a thing of the past.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 044) CHAPTER V.

PURSUED BY THE LANCERS.

Another last look at the bloody scene. It was very hard to have to beat
an ignominious retreat, but it was harder still to have to go without
being able to attend to one’s wounded comrades, who were piteously
crying aloud for help. To have to leave them in the hands of the enemy
was exceedingly distressing to me. But there was no other course open,
and fleeing, I hoped I might “live to fight another day.” I got away,
accompanied by Fourie and my Kaffir servant. “Let us go,” I said,
“perhaps we shall be able to fall in with some more burghers round here
and have another shot at them.” Behind us the British lancers were
shouting “Stop, stop, halt you —— Boers!” They fired briskly at us, but
our little ponies responded gamely to the spur and, aided by the
darkness, we rode on safely. Still the (p. 045) lancers did not abandon
the chase, and followed us for a long distance. From time to time we
could hear the pitiful cries and entreaties of burghers who were being
“finished off,” but we could see nothing. My man and I had fleet horses
in good condition, those of the pursuing lancers were big and clumsy.

My adjutant, Piet Fourie, however, was not so fortunate as myself. He
was overtaken and made a prisoner. Revolvers were being promiscuously
fired at us, and at times the distance between us and our pursuers grew
smaller. We could plainly hear them shouting “Stop, or I’ll shoot you,”
or “Halt, you damned Boer, or I’ll run my lance through your blessed
body.”

We really had no time to take much notice of these pretty compliments.
It was a race for life and freedom. Looking round furtively once more I
could distinguish my pursuers; I could see their long assegais; I could
hear the snorting of their unwieldy horses, the clattering of their
swords. These unpleasant combinations were enough to strike terror into
the heart of any ordinary man.

(p. 046) Everything now depended upon the fleetness and staying power of
my sturdy little Boer pony, Blesman. He remained my faithful friend long
after he had got me out of this scrape; he was shot, poor little chap,
the day when they made me a prisoner. Poor Blesman, to you I owe my
life! Blesman was plainly in league against all that was British; from
the first he displayed Anglophobia of a most acute character. He has
served me in good stead, and now lies buried, faithful little heart, in
a Lydenburg ditch.

In my retreat Sunday River had to be crossed. It was deep, but deep or
not, we had to get through it. We were going at such a pace that we
nearly tumbled down the banks. The precipice must have been very steep;
all I remember is finding myself in the water with Blesman by my side.
The poor chap had got stuck with his four legs in the drift sand. I
managed to liberate him, and after a lot of scrambling and struggling
and wading through the four foot stream, I got to the other side. On the
opposite bank the British were still firing. (p. 047) I therefore
decided to lie low in the water, hoping to delude them into thinking I
was killed or drowned. My stratagem was successful. I heard one of my
pursuers say, “We’ve finished him,” and with a few more pyrotechnic
farewells they retraced their steps towards Ladysmith.

On the other side, however, more horsemen came in pursuit.
Unquestionably the British, fired by their splendid success, were
following up their victory with great vigour, and again I was compelled
to hide in the long grass into which my native servant, with Ethiopian
instinct, had already crept. While I was travelling along on foot my man
had rescued my horse from the muddy banks of the river.

When all was said and done I had escaped with a good wetting. Now for
Newcastle. I had still my rifle, revolver, and cartridges left to me; my
field-glass I had lost, probably in the river. Water there was plenty,
but food I had none. The track to Newcastle to a stranger, such as I was
in that part of the country, was difficult (p. 048) to discover. To add
to my perplexities I did not know what had happened at Dundee, where I
had been told a strong British garrison was in occupation. Therefore, in
straying in that direction I ran the risk of being captured.

Finally, however, I came upon a kaffir kraal. I was curtly hailed in the
kaffir language, and upon my asking my swarthy friends to show me the
road, half a dozen natives, armed with assegais, appeared on the scene.
I clasped my revolver, as their attitude seemed suspicious. After they
had inspected me closely, one of the elders of the community said: “You
is one of dem Boers vat runs avay? We look on and you got dum dum
to-day. Now we hold you, we take you English magistrate near Ladysmith.”
But I know my kaffir, and I sized up this black Englishman instantly.
“The fact is,” I said, “I’m trekking with a commando of 500 men, and we
are doing a bit of scouting round your kraal. If you will show me the
way to the Biggersbergen I will give you 5s. on account.” My amiable and
dusky friend insisted on (p. 049) 7s. 6d., but after I had intimated
that if he did not accept 5s. I should certainly burn his entire outfit,
slaughter all his women and kill all his cattle, he acquiesced. A young
Zulu was deputed as my guide, but I had to use my fists and make pretty
play with my revolver, and generally hint at a sudden death, or he would
have left me in the lurch. He muttered to himself for some time, and
suddenly terminated his soliloquy by turning on his heels and
disappearing in the darkness.

The light of a lantern presently showed a railway station, which I
rightly guessed to be Waschbank. Here two Englishmen, probably railway
officials, came up to me, accompanied by my treacherous guide. The
latter had obviously been good enough to warn the officials at the
station of my approach, but luckily they were unarmed. One of them said,
“You’ve lost your way, it appears,” to which I replied, “Oh, no, indeed;
I’m on the right track I think.” “But,” he persisted, “you won’t find
any of your people here now; you’ve been cut to pieces at Elandslaagte
and Lukas Meyer’s and Erasmus’s forces round (p. 050) Dundee have been
crushed. You had better come along with me to Ladysmith. I promise you
decent treatment.” I took care not to get in between them, and,
remaining at a little distance, said, revolver in hand, “Thanks very
much, it’s awfully good of you. I have no business to transact in
Ladysmith for the moment and will now continue my journey. Good-night.”
“No, no, no, wait a minute,” returned the man who had spoken first, “you
know you can’t pass here.” “We shall see about that,” I said. They
rushed upon me, but ere they could overpower me I had levelled my
revolver. The first speaker tried to disarm me, but I shook him off and
shot him. He fell, and as far I know, or could see, was not fatally
wounded. The other man, thinking discretion the better part of valour,
disappeared in the darkness, and my unfaithful guide had edged away as
soon as he saw the glint of my gun.

My adventures on that terrible night were, however, not to end with this
mild diversion. About an hour after daybreak, I came upon a barn upon
which the legend “Post Office (p. 051) Savings Bank” was inscribed. A
big Newfoundland dog lay on the threshold, and although he wagged his
tail in a not unfriendly manner, he did not seem disposed to take any
special notice of me. There was a passage between the barn and some
stables at the back and I went down to prospect the latter. What luck if
there had been a horse for me there! Of course I should only have wanted
to borrow it, but there was a big iron padlock on the door, though
inside the stables I heard the movements of an animal. A horse meant to
me just then considerably more than three kingdoms to King Richard. For
the first time in my life I did some delicate burglary and housebreaking
to boot. But the English declare that all is fair in love and war, and
they ought to know.

I discovered an iron bar, which enabled me to wrench off the lock from
the stable door, and, having got so far with my burglarious performance,
I entered cautiously, and I may say nervously. Creeping up to the manger
I fumbled about till I caught hold of a strap to which the animal was
tied, cut the strap (p. 052) through and led the horse away. I was
wondering why it went so slowly and that I had almost to drag the poor
creature along. Once outside I found to my utter disgust that my spoil
was a venerable and decrepit donkey. Disappointed and disheartened, I
abandoned my booty, leaving that ancient mule brooding meditatively
outside the stable door and clearly wondering why he had been selected
for a midnight excursion. But there was no time to explain or apologise,
and as the mule clearly could not carry me as fast as my own legs, I
left him to his meditations.

At dawn, when the first rays of the sun lit up the Biggersbergen in all
their grotesque beauty, I realised for the first time where I was, and
found that I was considerably more than 12 miles from Elandslaagte, the
fateful scene of yesterday. Tired out, half-starved and as disconsolate
as the donkey in the stable, I sat myself on an anthill. For 24 hours I
had been foodless, and was now quite exhausted. I fell into a reverie;
all the past day’s adventures passed graphically before my eyes as in a
kaleidoscope; all the horrors and (p. 053) carnage of the battle, the
misery of my maimed comrades, who only yesterday had answered the
battle-cry full of vigour and youth, the pathos of the dead who, cut
down in the prime of their life and buoyant health, lay yonder on the
veldt, far away from wives and daughters and friends for ever more.

While in a brown study on this anthill, 30 men on horseback suddenly
dashed up towards me from the direction of Elandslaagte. I threw myself
flat on my face, seeking the anthill as cover, prepared to sell my life
dearly should they prove to be Englishmen. As soon as they observed me
they halted, and sent one of their number up to me. Evidently they knew
not whether I was friend or foe, for they reconnoitred my prostrate form
behind the anthill with great circumspection and caution; but I speedily
recognised comrades-in-arms. I think the long tail which is peculiar to
the Basuto pony enabled me to identify them as such, and one friend, who
was their outpost, brought me a reserve horse, and what was even better,
had extracted from his saddle-bag a tin of welcome bully beef to
(p. 054) stay my gnawing hunger. But they brought sad tidings, these
good friends. Slain on the battlefield lay Assistant-Commandant J. C.
Bodenstein and Major Hall, of the Johannesburg Town Council, two of my
bravest officers, whose loss I still regret.

We rode on slowly, and all along the road we fell in with groups of
burghers. There was no question that our ranks were demoralised and
heartsick. Commandant-General Joubert had made Dannhauser Station his
headquarters and thither we wended our way. But though we approached our
general with hearts weighed down with sorrow, so strange and complex a
character is the Boers’, that by the time we reached him we had gathered
together 120 stragglers, and had recovered our spirits and our courage.
I enjoyed a most refreshing rest on an unoccupied farm and sent a
messenger to Joubert asking him for an appointment for the following
morning to hand in my report of the ill-fated battle. The messenger,
however, brought back a verbal answer that the General was exceedingly
angry and had sent no reply. (p. 055) On retiring that night I found my
left leg injured in several places by splinters of shell and stone. My
garments had to be soaked in water to remove them, but after I had
carefully cleaned my wounds they very soon healed.

The next morning I waited on the Commandant-General. He received me very
coldly, and before I could venture a word said reproachfully: “Why
didn’t you obey orders and stop this side of the Biggarsbergen, as the
Council of War decided you should do?” He followed up the reproach with
a series of questions: “Where’s your general?” “How many men have you
lost?” “How many English have you killed?” I said deferentially: “Well,
General, you know I am not to be bullied like this. You know you placed
me in a subordinate position under the command of General Kock, and now
you lay all the blame for yesterday’s disaster on my shoulders. However,
I am sorry to say General Kock is wounded and in British hands. I don’t
know how many men we have lost; I suppose about 30 or 40 killed and
approximately (p. 056) 100 wounded. The British must have lost
considerably more, but I am not making any estimate.”

The grey-bearded generalissimo cooled a little and spoke more kindly,
although he gave me to understand he did not think much of the
Johannesburg commando. I replied that they had been fighting very
pluckily, and that by retiring they hoped to retrieve their fortunes
some other day. “H’m,” returned the General, “some of your burghers have
made so masterly a retreat that they have already got to Newcastle, and
I have just wired Field-Cornet Pienaar, who is in charge, that I should
suggest to him to wait a little there, as I propose sending him some
railway carriages to enable him to retreat still further. As for those
Germans and Hollanders with you, they may go to Johannesburg; I won’t
have them here any more.”

“General,” I protested, “this is not quite fair. These people have
volunteered to fight for, and with us; we cannot blame them in this
matter. It is most unfortunate that Elandslaagte should have been lost,
but as (p. 057) far as I can see there was no help for it.” The old
General appeared lost in thought; he seemed to take but little notice of
what I said. Finally he looked up and fixed his small glittering eyes
upon me as if he wished to read my most inmost thoughts.

“Yes,” he said, “I know all about that. At Dundee things have gone just
as badly. Lukas Meyer made a feeble attack, and Erasmus left him in the
lurch. The two were to charge simultaneously, but Erasmus failed him at
a critical moment, which means a loss of 130 men killed and wounded, and
Lukas Meyer in retreat across the Buffalo River. And now Elandslaagte on
the top of all! All this owing to the disobedience and negligence of my
chief officers.”

The old man spoke in this strain for some time, until I grew tired and
left. But just as I was on the point of proceeding from his tent, he
said: “Look here, Commandant, reorganise your commando as quickly as you
can, and report to me as soon as you are ready.” He also gave me
permission to incorporate in the reorganised commando (p. 058) various
Hollander and German stragglers who were loafing round about, although
he seemed to entertain an irradicable prejudice against the Dutch and
German corps.

The Commandant of the Hollander corps, Volksraad Member Lombard, came
out of the battle unscathed; his captain, Mr. B. J. Verselewel de Witt
Hamer, had been made a prisoner; the Commandant of the German corps,
Captain A. Schiel, fell wounded into British hands, while among the
officers who were killed in action I should mention Dr. H. J. Coster,
the bravest Hollander the Transvaal ever saw, the most brilliant member
of the Pretoria Bar, who laid down his life because in a stupid moment
Kruger had taunted him and his compatriots with cowardice.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 059) CHAPTER VI.

RISKING JOUBERT’S ANGER.

After the above unpleasant but fairly successful interview with our
Commander-in-Chief, I left the men I had gathered round me in charge of
a field-cornet, and proceeded by train to Newcastle to collect the
scattered remnants of my burghers, and to obtain mules and waggons for
my convoy. For, as I have previously stated, it was at Newcastle we had
left all our commissariat-waggons and draught cattle under a strong
escort. On arrival I summoned the burghers together, and addressing them
in a few words, pointed out that we should, so soon as possible, resume
the march, in order to reach the fighting line without delay, and there
retrieve the pride and honour of our commando.

“Our beloved country,” I said, “as well as our dead, wounded and missing
comrades, (p. 060) require us not to lose courage at this first
reverse, but to continue the righteous struggle even against
overwhelming odds,” and so on, in this strain.

I honestly cannot understand why we should have been charged with
cowardice at the battle of Elandslaagte, although many of us seemed to
apprehend that this would be the case. We had made a good fight of it,
but overwhelmed by an organised force of disciplined men, eight or ten
times our number, we had been vanquished, and the British were the first
to admit that we had manfully and honourably defended our positions. To
put a wrong construction on our defeat was a libel on all who had
bravely fought the fight, and I resented it. There are such things as
the fortunes of war, and as only one side can win, it cannot always be
the same. However, I soon discovered that a small number of our burghers
did not seem inclined to join in the prolongation of the struggle. To
have forced them to rejoin us would have served no purpose, so I thought
the best policy would be to send them home on furlough (p. 061) until
they had recovered their spirits and their courage. No doubt the scorn
and derision to which they would be subjected by their wives and sisters
would soon induce them to take up arms again and to fulfil the duties
their country required. I therefore requested those who had neither the
courage nor the inclination to return to the front to fall out, and
about thirty men fell back, bowing their heads in shame. They were
jeered at and chaffed by their fellows, the majority of whom had elected
to proceed. But the shock of Elandslaagte had been too much for the
weaker brethren, who seemed deaf to every argument, and only wanted to
go home. I gave each of these a pass to proceed by rail to Johannesburg,
which read as follows:—

“Permit………………………………. to go to
Johannesburg on account of cowardice, at Government’s
expense.”

They put the permit in their pockets without suspecting its contents,
and departed with their kit to the station to catch the first available
train.

(p. 062) The reader will now have formed an idea of the disastrous moral
effect of this defeat, and the subsequent difficulty of getting a
commando up to its original fighting strength. But in spite of this I am
proud to say that by far the greater number of the Johannesburgers were
gathered round me and prepared to march to meet the enemy once more.

My trap and all its contents had been captured by the enemy at
Elandslaagte, and I found it necessary to obtain new outfits, &c., at
Newcastle. This was no easy matter, as some of the storekeepers had
moved the greater part of their goods to a safer place, while some
commandos had appropriated most of the remainder. What was left had been
commandeered by Mr. J. Moodie, a favourite of General Joubert, who was
posing there as Resident Justice of the Peace; and he did not feel
inclined to let any of these goods out of his possession. By alternately
buying and looting, or in other words stealing, I managed to get an
outfit by the next morning, and at break of day we left for Dannhauser
(p. 063) Station, arriving there the same evening without further
noteworthy incident.

Next day, when the Johannesburg corps turned out, we numbered 485
mounted men, all fully equipped. On arrival at Glencoe Station I
received a telegram from General Joubert informing me that he had
defeated the enemy at Nicholson’s Nek near Ladysmith that day (October
30, 1899) taking 1,300 prisoners, who would arrive at Glencoe the
following morning. He desired me to conduct them to Pretoria under a
strong escort. What a flattering order! To conduct prisoners-of-war,
taken by other burghers! Were we then fit for nothing but police duty?

However, orders have to be obeyed, so I sent one of my officers with 40
men to take the prisoners to Pretoria, and reported to the
Commandant-General by telegram that his order had been executed, also
asking for instructions as to where I was to proceed with my commando.
The reply I received was as follows:—

“Pitch your camp near Dundee, and maintain law and order in
the Province, also aid (p. 064) the Justice of the Peace in forwarding
captured goods, ammunition, provisions, etc., to Pretoria, and see that
you are not attacked a second time.”

This was more than flesh and blood could bear; more than a “white man”
could stand. It was not less than a personal insult, which I deeply
resented. Evidently my chief had resolved to keep us in the background;
he would not trust our commando in the fighting line. In short, he would
not keep his word and give us another chance to recoup our losses.

I had, however, made up my mind, and ordered the commando to march to
Ladysmith. If the General would not have me at the front I should cease
to be an officer. And, although I had no friends of influence who could
help me I resolved to take the bull by the horns, and leave the rest to
fate.

On the 1st November, 1899, we reached the main army near Ladysmith, and
I went at once to tell General Joubert in person that my men wanted to
fight, and not to play policemen in the rear of the army. Having given
the order to dismount I proceeded (p. 065) to Joubert’s tent, walked in
with as much boldness as I could muster, and saluted the General, who
was fortunately alone. I at once opened my case, telling him how unfair
it was to keep us in the rear, and that the burghers were loudly
protesting against such treatment. This plea was generally used
throughout the campaign when an officer required something to be granted
him. At first the old General was very wrathful. He said I had disobeyed
his orders and that he had a mind to have me shot for breach of
discipline. However, after much storming in his fine bass voice, he grew
calmer, and in stentorian tones ordered me for the time being to join
General Schalk Burger, who was operating near Lombard’s Kop in the siege
of Ladysmith.

That same evening I arrived there with my commando and reported myself
to Lieut-General Burger. One of his adjutants, Mr. Joachim Fourie, who
distinguished himself afterwards on repeated occasions and was killed in
action near his house in the Carolina district, showed me a place to
laager in. (p. 066) We pitched our tents on the same spot where a few
days before Generals White and French had been defeated, and there
awaited developments.

At this place the British, during the battle of Nicholson’s Nek, had
hidden a large quantity of rifle and gun ammunition in a hole in the
ground, covering it up with grass, which gave it the appearance of a
heap of rubbish. One of the burghers who feared this would be injurious
to the health of our men in camp, set the grass on fire, and this soon
penetrated to the ammunition. A tremendous explosion occurred, and it
seemed as if there were a real battle in progress. From all sides
burghers dashed up on horseback to learn where the fighting was taking
place. General Joubert sent an adjutant to enquire whether the
Johannesburgers were now killing each other for a change, and why I
could not keep my men under better control. I asked this gentleman to be
kind enough to see for himself what was taking place, and to tell the
Commandant-General that I could manage well enough to keep my men in
order, but (p. 067) could not be aware of the exact spot where the
enemy had chosen to hide their ammunition.

Meanwhile, it became daily more evident to me how greatly Joubert
depreciated my commando, and that we would have to behave very well and
fight very bravely to regain his favour. Other commandos also seemed to
have no better opinion, and spoke of us as the laager which had to run
at Elandslaagte, forgetting how even General Meyer’s huge commando had
been obliged to retreat in the greatest confusion at Dundee. If all the
details of this Dundee engagement were published it would be discovered
that it was a Boer disaster only second to that of Elandslaagte.

We were now, however, at any rate at the front. I sent out my outposts
and fixed my positions, which were very far from good; but I decided to
make no complaints. We had resolved to do our very best to vindicate our
honour, and to prove that our accusers had no reason to call us either
cowards or good-for-nothings.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 068) CHAPTER VII.

THE BOER GENERAL’S SUPERSTITIONS.

A few days after we had arrived before Ladysmith we joined an expedition
to reconnoitre the British entrenchments, and my commando was ordered
near some forts on the north-westerly side of the town. Both small and
large artillery were being fired from each side. We approached within
800 paces of a fort; it was broad daylight and the enemy could therefore
see us distinctly, knew the exact range, and received us with a perfect
hailstorm of fire. Our only chance was to seek cover behind kopjes and
in ditches, for on any Boer showing his head the bullets whistled round
his ears. Here two of my burghers were severely wounded, and we had some
considerable trouble to get them through the firing line to our
ambulance. At last, (p. 069) late in the afternoon, came the order to
retire, and we retired after having achieved nothing.

I fail to this day to see the use of this reconnoitring, but at
Ladysmith everything was equally mysterious and perplexing. It was
perhaps that my knowledge of military matters was too limited to
understand the subtle manœuvres of those days. But I have made up my
mind not to criticise our leader’s military strategy, though I must say
at this juncture that the whole siege of Ladysmith and the manner in
which the besieged garrison was ineffectually pounded at with our big
guns for several months, seem to me an unfathomable mystery, which,
owing to Joubert’s untimely death, will never be explained
satisfactorily. But I venture to describe Joubert’s policy outside
Ladysmith as stupid and primitive, and in another chapter I shall again
refer to it.

After another fortnight or so, we were ordered away to guard another
position to the south-west of Ladysmith, as the Free State commando
under Commandant Nel, and, unless I am mistaken, under Field-Cornet
(p. 070) Christian de Wet (afterwards the world-famous chief Commander
of the Orange Free State, and of whom all Afrikanders are justly proud),
had to go to Cape Colony.

Here I was under the command of Dijl Erasmus, who was then General and a
favourite of General Joubert. We had plenty of work given us. Trenches
had to be dug and forts had to be constructed and remodelled. At this
time an expedition ventured to Estcourt, under General Louis Botha, who
replaced General L. Meyer, sent home on sick leave. My commando joined
the expedition under Field-Cornet J. Kock, who afterwards caused me a
lot of trouble.

I can say but little of this expedition to Estcourt, save that the
Commander-in-Chief accompanied it. But for his being with us, I am
convinced that General Botha would have pushed on at least as far as
Pietermaritzburg, for the English were at that time quite unable to stop
our progress. But after we got to Estcourt, practically unopposed,
Joubert, though our burghers had been victorious in battle after battle,
ordered us to retreat. The (p. 071) only explanation General Joubert
ever vouchsafed about the recall of this expedition was that in a heavy
thunderstorm which had been raging for two nights near Estcourt, two
Boers had been struck by lightning, which, according to his doctrine,
was an infallible sign from the Almighty that the commandos were to
proceed no further. It seems incredible that in these enlightened days
we should find such a man in command of an army; it is, nevertheless, a
fact that the loss of two burghers induced our Commandant-General to
recall victorious commandos who were carrying all before them. The
English at Pietermaritzburg, and even at Durban, were trembling lest we
should push forward to the coast, knowing full well that in no wise
could they have arrested our progress. And what an improvement in our
position this would have meant! As it was, our retirement encouraged the
British to push forward their fighting line so far as Chieveley Station,
near the Tugela river, and the commandos had to take up a position in
the “randjes,” on the westerly banks of the Tugela.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 072) CHAPTER VIII.

THE “GREAT POWERS” TO INTERVENE.

During the retreat of our army to the frontier of the Transvaal Republic
nothing of importance occurred. Here again confusion reigned supreme,
and none of the commandos were over-anxious to form rearguards. Our
Hollander Railway Company made a point of placing a respectful distance
between her rolling-stock and the enemy, and, anxious to lose as few
carriages as possible, raised innumerable difficulties when asked to
transport our men, provisions and ammunition. Our generals had meantime
proceeded to Laing’s Nek by rail to seek new positions, and there was no
one to maintain order and discipline.

About 150 Natal Afrikanders who had joined our commandos when these
under (p. 073) the late General Joubert occupied the districts about
Newcastle and Ladysmith, now found themselves in an awkward position.
They elected to come with us, accompanied by their families and live
stock, and they offered a most heartrending spectacle. Long rows of
carts and wagons wended their way wearily along the road to Laing’s Nek.
Women in tears, with their children and infants in arms, cast
reproachful glances at us as being the cause of their misery. Others
occupied themselves more usefully in driving their cattle. Altogether it
was a scene the like of which I hope never to see again.

The Natal kaffirs now had an opportunity of displaying their hatred
towards the Boers. As soon as we had left a farm and its male
inhabitants had gone, they swooped down on the place and wrought havoc
and ruin, plundering and looting to their utmost carrying capacity. Some
even assaulted women and children, and the most awful atrocities were
committed. I attach more blame to the whites who encouraged these
plundering bands, especially some of the Imperial troops (p. 074) and
Natal men in military service. Not understanding the bestial nature of
the kaffirs, they used them to help carry out their work of destruction,
and although they gave them no actual orders to molest the people, they
took no proper steps of preventing this.

When our commando passed through Newcastle, we found the place almost
entirely deserted, excepting for a few British subjects who had taken an
oath of neutrality to the Boers.

I regret to have to state that during our retreat a number of
irresponsible persons set fire to the Government buildings in that town.
It is said that an Italian officer burned a public hall on no reasonable
pretext; certainly he never received orders to that effect. As may be
expected of an invading army, some of our burgher patrols and other
isolated bodies of troops looted and destroyed a number of houses which
had been temporarily deserted. But with the exception of these few
cases, I can state that no outrages were committed by us in Natal, and
no property was needlessly destroyed.

(p. 075) On our arrival at Laing’s Nek a Council of War was immediately
held to decide our future plans.

We now found ourselves once more on the old battlefields of 1880 and
1881, where Boer and Briton had met 20 years before to decide by trial
of arms who should be master of the S. A. Republic. Traces of that
desperate struggle were still plainly visible, and the historic height
of Majuba stood there, an isolated sentinel, recalling to us the battle
in which the unfortunate Colley lost both the day and his life.

I was told off to take up a position in the Nek where the wagon-road
runs to the east across the railway-tunnel, and here we made
preparations for digging trenches and placing our guns. Soon after we
had completed our entrenchments we once more saw the enemy. They were
lying at Schuinshoogte on the Ingogo, and had sent a mounted corps with
two guns to the Nek. Although we had no idea of the enemy’s strength, we
were fully prepared to meet the attack; the Pretoria, Lydenburg and
other laagers were posted to (p. 076) the left on the summit of Majuba
Hill, and other commandos held good positions on the east. But the enemy
evidently thought that we had fled all the way back to Pretoria, and not
expecting to find the Nek occupied, advanced quite unconcerned. We fired
a few volleys at them, which caused them to halt in considerable
surprise, and, replying with a little artillery fire, they quickly
returned to Schuinshoogte. We had, however, to be on our guard both day
and night. It was bitterly cold at the time and a strong easterly wind
was blowing.

Next day something occurred which afforded a change to the monotony of
our situation, namely, the arrival from Pretoria of Mr. John Lombaard,
member of the First Volksraad for Bethel. He asked permission to address
us and informed us that we need only hold out another fortnight, for
news from Europe had reached them to the effect that the Great Powers
had decided to put an end to the War. This communication emanating from
such a semi-official source was believed by a certain number of our men,
but I think (p. 077) it did very little to brighten up the spirits of
the majority, or arouse them from the lethargy into which they seemed to
have fallen. A fortnight passed, and a month, without us hearing
anything further of this expected intervention, and I have never been
able to discover on whose authority and by whose orders Mr. Lombaard
made to us that remarkable communication.

Meantime, General Buller did not seem at all anxious to attack us,
perhaps fearing a repetition of the “accidents” on the Tugela; or
possibly he thought that our position was too strong. For some reason,
therefore, Laing’s Nek was never attacked, and Buller afterwards, having
made a huge “detour,” broke through Botha’s Pass. Meanwhile, Lord
Roberts and his forces were marching without opposition through the
Orange Free State, and I was ordered to proceed to Vereeniging with my
commando. We left Laing’s Nek on the 19th of May, and proceeded to the
Free State frontier by rail.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 078) CHAPTER IX.

COLENSO AND SPION KOP FIGHTS.

Eight days after my commando had been stationed in my new position under
General Erasmus, I received instructions to march to Potgietersdrift, on
the Upper Tugela, near Spion Kop, and there to put myself at Andries
Cronje’s disposal. This gentleman was then a general in the Orange Free
State Army, and although a very venerable looking person, was not very
successful as a commander. Up to the 14th of December, 1899, no
noteworthy incident took place, and nothing was done but a little
desultory scouting along the Tugela, and the digging of trenches.

At last came the welcome order summoning us to action; and we were
bidden to march on Colenso Heights with 200 men to fill up the ranks, as
a fight was imminent. (p. 079) We left under General Cronje and arrived
the next morning at daybreak, and a few hours after began the battle now
known to the world as the Battle of Colenso (15th December, 1899).

I afterwards heard that the commandos under General Cronje were to cross
the river and attack the enemy’s left flank. This did not happen, as the
greatest confusion prevailed owing to the various contradictory orders
given by the generals. For instance, I myself received four
contradictory orders from four generals within the space of ten minutes.
I, however, took the initiative in moving my men up to the river to
attempt the capture of a battery of guns on the enemy’s left flank which
had been left unprotected, as was the case with the ten guns which fell
into our hands later in the day. I had approached within 1,400 paces of
the enemy, and my burghers were following close behind me when an
adjutant from General Botha (accompanied by a gentleman named C. Fourie,
who was then also parading as a general) galloped up (p. 080) to us and
ordered us at once to join the Ermelo commando, which was said to be too
weak to resist the attacks of the enemy. We hurried thither as quickly
as we could round the rear of the fighting line, where we were obliged
to off-saddle and walk up to the position of the Ermelo burghers. This
was no easy task; the battle was now in full swing, and the enemy’s
shells were bursting in dozens around us, and in the burning sun we had
to run some miles.

When we arrived at our destination Mr. Fourie (the pseudo general) and
his adjutant could nowhere be found. As to the Ermelo burghers, they
said they were quite comfortable, and had asked for no assistance.

Not a single shell had reached them, for a clump of aloe trees stood a
hundred yards away, which the English presumably had taken for Boers,
judging by the terrific bombardment these trees were being subjected to.

Along the Tugela—Coming suddenly upon an English
Outpost.

By this time the attack was repulsed, and General Buller was in full
retreat to Chieveley, though our commando had been unable to take an
active part in the fighting, at which (p. 081) we were greatly
disappointed. It is much to be regretted that the retreat of the enemy
was not followed up at once. Had this been done, the campaign in Natal
would have taken an entirely different aspect, and very probably would
have been attended by a more favourable conclusion. I consider myself
far from a prophet, but this I know; and if we had then and on
subsequent occasions followed up our successes, the result of the
Campaign would have been far more satisfactory to us.

After I had assisted in bringing away through the river the guns we had
taken, and seen to other matters which required my immediate attention,
I was ordered to remain with the Ermelo commando at Colenso, near
Toomdrift, and to await there further instructions.

A few weeks of inactivity followed, the English sending us each day a
few samples of their shells from their 4·7 Naval guns. Unfortunately,
our guns were of much smaller calibre, and we could send them no
suitable reply. As a rule we would lie in the trenches, and a burgher
would be on the look-out. So (p. 082) soon as he saw the flash of an
English gun, he would cry out; “There’s a shell,” and we then sought
cover, so that the enemy seldom succeeded in harming us.

One day one of these big shells fell amongst a group of fourteen
burghers who were at dinner. The shell struck a sharp rock, which it
splintered into fragments, and was emitting its yellow lyddite; but,
fortunately, the fuse refused to burn, and the shell did not explode, so
we had a narrow escape that day from a small catastrophe.

My laager had been at Potgietersdrift all this time, and for the time
being we were deprived of our tents. We were not sorry, therefore, when
we were ordered to leave Colenso and to return to our camp.

A few days after we were told off to take up a position at the junction
of the Little and the Big Tugela, between Spion Kop and Colenso. Here we
celebrated our first Christmas in the field; our friends at Johannesburg
had sent us a quantity of presents by means of a friend, Attorney Raaff,
comprising cakes, cigars, cigarettes, tobacco and other luxuries. Along
(p. 083) this part of the Tugela we found a fair quantity of
vegetables, and poultry, and as their respective owners had fled we were
unable to pay for what we had. We were obliged, therefore, to “borrow”
all these things for the banquet befitting to the occasion.

But General Buller had not quite finished with us yet. He marched on
Spion Kop, but with the exception of a feint attack nothing of
importance happened then. One day I went across the river with a patrol
to discover what the enemy was doing, when we suddenly came across nine
English spies, who fled as soon as they saw us. We galloped after them,
trying to cut them off from the main body, which was at a little
distance away from us, and would no doubt have overtaken them, but,
riding at a breakneck speed over a mountain ridge, we found ourselves
suddenly confronted with a strong English mounted corps, apparently
engaged in drilling. We were only 500 paces away from them, and we
jumped off our horses, and opened fire. But there were only a dozen of
us, and the enemy soon began sending us a few shells, and prepared to
(p. 084) attack us with their whole force. About a hundred mounted men,
with horses in the best of condition, set off to pursue us.

We were obliged to ride back by the same path we had come by, which was
fortunate for us, as we knew the way and could ride through crevices and
dongas without any hesitation. In this way we soon gave our pursuers the
slip.

Buller’s forces seemed at first to have the intention of forcing their
way through near Potgietersdrift, and they took possession of all the
“randts” on their side of the river, causing us to strengthen the
position on our side. We thus had to shift our commando again to
Potgietersdrift, where we soon had the enemy’s Naval guns playing on our
positions. This continued day and night for a whole week.

It seemed as if General Buller were determined to annihilate all the
Boers with his lyddite shells, so as to enable the soldiers to walk at
their leisure to the release of Ladysmith. Certainly we suffered
considerably from lyddite fumes.

(p. 085) The British next made a feint attack near Potgietersdrift,
advancing with a great clamour till they had come within 2,000 paces of
us, where they occupied various “randts” and kopjes, always under cover
of their artillery. Once they came a little too close to our positions,
and we suddenly opened fire on them. The result was that their ambulance
waggons were seen to become very busy driving backwards and forwards.

This “feint,” however, was only made in order to divert our attention,
while Buller was concentrating his troops and guns on Spion Kop. The
ruse succeeded to a large extent, and on the 21st January the memorable
battle of Spion Kop (near the Upper Tugela) began.

General Warren, who, I believe, was in command here, had ordered another
“feint” attack from the extreme right wing. General Cronje and the Free
Staters had taken up a position at Spion Kop, assisted by the commandos
of General Erasmus and Schalk Burger.

The fight lasted the whole of that day and (p. 086) the next, and
became more and more fierce. Luckily General Botha appeared on the scene
in time, and re-arranged matters so well and with so much energy that
the enemy found itself well employed, and was kept in check at all
points.

I had been ordered to defend the position at Potgietersdrift, but the
fighting round Spion Kop became so serious that I was obliged to send up
a field cornet with his men as a reinforcement, which was soon followed
by a second contingent, making altogether 200 Johannesburgers in the
fight, of whom nine were killed and 18 wounded. The enemy had reached
the top of the “kop” on the evening of the second day of the fight, not,
however, without having sustained considerable losses. At this juncture
one of our generals felt so disheartened that he sent away his carts,
and himself left the battlefield.

But General Botha kept his ground like a man, surrounded by the faithful
little band who had already borne the brunt of this important battle.
And one can imagine our delight when next morning we found that
(p. 087) the English had retreated, leaving that immense battlefield,
strewn with hundreds of dead and wounded, in our hands.

“What made them leave so suddenly last night,” was the question we asked
each other then, and which remains unanswered to this day.

General Warren has stated that the cause of his departure was the want
of water, but I can hardly credit that statement, as water could be
obtained all the way to the top of Spion Kop; and even had it been
wanting it is not likely that after a sacrifice of 1,200 to 1,300 lives
the position would have been abandoned on this account alone. Our
victory was undoubtedly a fluke.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 088) CHAPTER X.

THE BATTLE OF VAALKRANTZ.

Soon after his defeat at Spion Kop, General Buller, moved by the earnest
entreaties for help from Ladysmith, and pressed by Lord Roberts,
attempted a third time to break through our lines. This time my position
had to bear the onslaught of his whole forces. For some days it had been
clear to me what the enemy intended to do, but I wired in vain to the
Commander-in-Chief to send me reinforcements, and I was left to defend a
front, one and a half miles in length, with about 400 men. After many
requests I at last moved General Joubert to send me one of the guns
known as “Long Toms,” which was placed at the rear of our position, and
enabled us to command the Vaalkrantz, or, as we called it, “Pontdrift”
kopjes. But instead of the required reinforcements, (p. 089) the
Commander sent a telegram to General Meyer to Colenso, telling him to
come and speak to me, and to put some heart into me, for it seemed, he
said, “as if I had lost faith.”

General Meyer came, and I explained to him how matters stood, and that I
should not be able to check the enormous attacking force with my
commando alone. The British were at this time only 7,000 paces away from
us. The required assistance, however, never came, although I told the
General that a faith strong enough to move Majuba Hill would be of no
avail without a sufficient number of men.

Early in the morning of the 5th February, 1900, my position was heavily
bombarded, and before the sun had risen four of my burghers had been put
hors de combat. The enemy had placed their naval guns on the outskirts
of the wood known as “Zwartkop” so as to be able to command our position
from an elevation of about 400 feet. I happened to be on the right flank
with ninety-five burghers and a pom-pom; my assistant, (p. 090)
Commandant Jaapie du Preez, commanding the left flank.

The assailants threw two pontoon bridges across the river and troops
kept pouring over from 10 o’clock in the morning. The whole of the guns’
fire was now concentrated on my position; and although we answered with
a well-directed fire, they charged time after time.

The number of my fighting men was rapidly diminishing. I may say this
was the heaviest bombardment I witnessed during the whole of the
campaign. It seemed to me as if all the guns of the British army were
being fired at us.

Their big lyddite guns sent over huge shells, which mowed down all the
trees on the kopje, while about fifty field pieces were incessantly
barking away from a shorter range. Conan Doyle, in his book, “The Great
Boer War,” states that the British had concentrated no less than
seventy-three guns on that kopje. In vain I implored the nearest
Generals for reinforcements and requested our artillery in Heaven’s name
to aim at the enemy’s guns. At last, however, “Long Tom” commenced
(p. 091) operations, but the artillerymen in charge had omitted to put
the powder in a safe place and it was soon struck by a lyddite shell
which set the whole of it on fire. This compelled us to send to the head
laager near Ladysmith for a fresh supply of powder.

On looking about me to see how my burghers were getting on I found that
many around me had been killed and others were wounded. The clothes of
the latter were burnt and they cried out for help in great agony.

Our pom-pom had long since been silenced by the enemy, and thirty of my
burghers had been put out of the fight. The enemy’s infantry was
advancing nearer and nearer and there was not much time left to think. I
knelt down behind a kopje, along with some of the men, and we kept
firing away at 400 paces, but although we sent a good many to eternal
rest, the fire of the few burghers who were left was too weak to stem
the onslaught of those overwhelming numbers.

A lyddite shell suddenly burst over our very heads. Four burghers with
me were blown to (p. 092) pieces and my rifle was smashed. It seemed to
me as if a huge cauldron of boiling fat had burst over us and for some
minutes I must have lost consciousness. A mouthful of brandy and water
(which I always carried with me) was given me and restored me somewhat,
and when I opened my eyes I saw the enemy climbing the kopje on three
sides of us, some of them only a hundred paces away from me.

I ordered my men to fall back and took charge of the pom-pom, and we
then retired under a heavy rifle and gun fire. Some English writers have
made much ado about the way in which our pom-pom was saved, but it was
nothing out of the ordinary. Of the 95 burghers with me 29 had been
killed, 24 wounded.

When I had a few minutes rest I felt a piercing pain in my head, and the
blood began to pour from my nose and ears.

We had taken up another position at 1,700 paces, and fired our pom-pom
at the enemy, who now occupied our position of a few minutes before. Our
other guns were being fired as well, which gave the British an (p. 093)
exciting quarter of an hour. On the right and left of the positions
taken by them our burghers were still in possession of the “randten”; to
the right Jaapie du Preez, with the loss of only four wounded, kept his
ground with the rest of my commando.

The next morning the fight was renewed, and our “Long Tom” now took the
lead in the cannon-concert, and seemed to make himself very unpleasant
to the enemy.

The whole day was mainly a battle of big guns. My headache grew
unbearable, and I was very feverish. General Botha had meanwhile arrived
with reinforcements, and towards evening things took a better turn.

But I was temporarily done for, and again lost consciousness, and was
taken to the ambulance. Dr. Shaw did his best, I hear, for me; but I was
unconscious for several days, and when I revived the doctor told me I
had a slight fracture of the skull caused by the bursting of a shell.
The injuries, however, could not have been very serious for ten days
after I was able to leave my bed. I then heard that the night I had
(p. 094) been taken to the hospital, the British had once more been
forced to retire across the Tugela, and early in the morning of the 7th
of February our burghers were again in possession of the kopje
“Vaalkrantz,” round which such a fierce fight had waged and for the
possession of which so much blood had been spilled.

So far as I could gather from the English official reports they lost
about 400 men, while our dead and wounded numbered only sixty-two.

Taking into consideration the determination with which General Buller
had attacked us, and how dearly he had paid for this third abortive
attempt, the retreat of his troops remains as much of a mystery to me as
that at Spion Kop.

Our “Long Tom” was a decided success, and had proved itself to be
exceedingly useful.

The Battle of “Vaalkrantz” kopje was to me and to the Johannesburg
commando undoubtedly the most important and the fiercest fight in this
war, and although one point in (p. 095) our positions was taken, I
think that on the whole I may be proud of our defence. About two-thirds
of its defenders were killed or wounded before the enemy took that spot,
and all who afterwards visited the kopje where our struggle had taken
place had to admit that unmistakable evidence showed it to be one of the
hottest fights of the Natal campaign. All the trees were torn up or
smashed by shells, great blocks of rock had been splintered and were
stained yellow by the lyddite; mutilated bodies were lying
everywhere—Briton and Boer side by side; for during the short time
“Vaalkrantz” had been in their possession the English had not had an
opportunity of burying the bodies of friends or foe.

I think I may quote a few paragraphs of what Dr. Doyle says in his book
about this engagement:—

“The artillery-fire (the “Zwartkop” guns and other
batteries) was then hurriedly aimed at the isolated
“Vaalkrantz” (the real object of the attack), and had a
terrific effect. It is doubtful whether ever before a
position has been exposed to such an awful bombardment. The
weight of the ammunition fired by some of (p. 096) the
cannon was greater than that of an entire German battery
during the Franco-Prussian war.”

Prince Kraft describes the 4 and 6-pounders as mere toys compared with
machine Howitzer and 4·7 guns.

Dr. Doyle, however, is not sure about the effect of these powerful guns,
for he says:—

“Although the rims of the kopje were being pounded by
lyddite and other bombs it is doubtful whether this terrific
fire did much damage among the enemy, as seven English
officers and 70 men were lying dead on the kopje against
only a few Boers, who were found to have been wounded.”

Of the pom-pom, which I succeeded in saving from the enemy’s hands, the
same writer says:—

“It was during this attack that something happened of a more
picturesque and romantic nature than is usually the case in
modern warfare; here it was not a question of combatants and
guns being invisible or the destruction of a great mass of
people. In this case it concerns a Boer gun, cut off by the
British troops, which all of a sudden came out of its
hiding-place and scampered away like a frightened hare from
his lair. It fled from the danger as fast as the mules’ legs
would take it, nearly overturning, and jolting and knocking
against the rocks, while the driver bent forward as far as
he could to protect himself from the shower of bullets which
were whistling round (p. 097) his ears in all directions.
British shells to the right of him, shells to the left of
him bursting and spluttering, lyddite shrapnel fuming and
fizzing and making the splinters fly. But over the “randtje”
the gun disappeared, and in a few minutes after it was in
position again, and dealing death and destruction amongst
the British assailants.”

While I was under treatment in Dr. Shaw’s ambulance I was honoured by a
visit from General Joubert, who came to compliment me on what he called
the splendid defence of Vaalkrantz, and to express his regret at the
heavy loss sustained by our commando. I heard from Dr. Shaw that after
the battle the groans and cries of the wounded burghers could be heard
in the immediate neighbourhood of the English outposts. Some burghers
volunteered to go, under cover of the darkness, to see if they could
save these wounded men. They cautiously crept up to the foot of the
kopjes, from where they could plainly see the English sentinels, and a
little further down found in a ditch two of our wounded, named Brand and
Liebenberg; the first had an arm and a leg smashed, the latter had a
bullet in his thigh.

(p. 098) One can imagine what a terrible plight they were in after
laying there for two nights and a day, exposed to the night’s severe
cold and the day’s scorching sun. Their wounds were already decomposing,
and the odour was most objectionable.

The two unfortunate men were at once carried to the laager and attended
to with greatest care. Poor Liebenberg died of his wounds soon after.
Brand, the youngest son of the late President Brand, of the Orange Free
State, soon recovered, if I remember rightly.

At the risk of incurring the displeasure of a great number of people by
adding the following statement to my description of the battle of
Vaalkrantz, I feel bound to state that Commandant-General Joubert, after
our successes at Colenso, Spion Kop, and Vaalkrantz, asked the two State
Presidents, Kruger and Steyn, to consider the urgency of making peace
overtures to the English Government. He pointed out that the Republics
had no doubt reached the summit of their glory in the War. The proposal
read as follows: (p. 099) That the Republican troops should at once
evacuate British territory, compensation to be given for the damage to
property, etc., inflicted by our commandos, against which the British
Government was to guarantee that the Republics should be spared from any
further incursions or attacks from British troops, and to waive its
claim of Suzerainty; and that the British Government should undertake
not to interfere with the internal affairs and legal procedure of the
two Republics, and grant general amnesty to the colonial rebels.

Commander-in-Chief Joubert defended these proposals by pointing out that
England was at that moment in difficulties, and had suffered repeated
serious defeats. The opportunity should be taken, urged the General.

He was supported by several officers, but other Boer leaders contended
that Natal, originally Boer territory, should never again be ceded to
the enemy. As we heard nothing more of these proposals, I suppose the
two State Presidents rejected them.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 100) CHAPTER XI.

THE TURN OF THE TIDE.

After the English forces had retreated from Vaalkrantz across the
Tugela, a patrol of my commando under my faithful adjutant, J. Du Preez,
who had taken my place for the time being, succeeded in surprising a
troop of fifty Lancers, of the 17th regiment, I believe, near Zwartkop,
east of the Tugela, and making them prisoners after a short skirmish.
Among these men, who were afterwards sent to Pretoria, was a certain
Lieutenant Thurlington. It was a strange sight to see our patrol coming
back with their victims, each Boer brandishing a captured lance.

Being still in the hospital in feeble health without any prospect of a
speedy recovery, I took the doctor’s advice and went home to Rondepoort,
near Krugersdorp, where my (p. 101) family was staying at the time, and
there, thanks to the careful treatment of my kind doctor and the tender
care of my wife I soon recovered my strength.

On the 25th of February I received a communication from my commando to
the effect that General Buller had once more concentrated his forces on
Colenso and that heavy fighting was going on. The same evening I also
had a telegram from President Kruger, urging me to rejoin my commando so
soon as health would allow, for affairs seemed to have taken a critical
turn. The enemy appeared to mean business this time, and our commando
had already been compelled to evacuate some very important positions,
one of which was Pieter’s Heights.

Then the news came from Cape Colony that General Piet Cronje had been
surrounded at Paardeberg, and that as he stubbornly refused to abandon
his convoy and retreat, he would soon be compelled by a superior force
to surrender.

The next morning I was in a fast train to Natal, accompanied by my
faithful adjutant. (p. 102) Rokzak. My other adjutant, Du Preez, had
meantime been ordered to take a reinforcement of 150 men to Pieter’s
Heights, and was soon engaged in a desperate struggle in the locality
situated between the Krugersdorpers’ and the Middleburgers’ positions.
The situation was generally considered very serious when I arrived near
the head laager at Modderspruit late in the evening of the 27th of
February, unaware of the unfavourable turn things had taken during the
day at Paardeberg, in the Cape Colony, and on the Tugela. We rode on
that night to my laager at Potgietersdrift, but having to go by a
roundabout way it took us till early next morning before we reached our
destination. The first thing I saw on my arrival was a cart containing
ten wounded men, who had just been brought in from the fighting line,
all yellow with lyddite.

Field-cornet P. van der Byl, who came fresh from the fight near Pieter’s
Heights, told me that these burghers had been wounded there. I asked
them what had happened and how matters stood. “Ah, Commandant,” he
(p. 103) replied, “things are in a very bad way! Commandant Du Preez
and myself were called to Pieter’s Heights three days ago, as the enemy
wanted to force their way through. We were in a very awkward position,
the enemy storming us again and again; but we held our own, and fired on
the soldiers at 50 paces. The English, however, directed an
uninterrupted gun fire at our commandos, and wrought great havoc. Early
Sunday morning the other side asked for a truce to enable them to bury
their dead who were lying too close to our positions to be got at during
the fighting. Many of their wounded were lying there as well, and the
air was rent during 24 hours with their agonised groans, which were
awful to hear. We, therefore, granted an armistice till 6 o’clock in the
evening.” (This curiously coincided in time with Lord Roberts’ refusal
to General Piet Cronje at Paardeberg to bury his dead).

“The enemy,” continued the field-cornet, “broke through several
positions, and while we were being fired at by the troops which were
advancing on us, we were attacked (p. 104) on our left flank and in the
rear. Assistant-Commandant Du Preez, and Field-Cornet Mostert, were both
severely wounded, but are now in safe hands. Besides these, 42 of our
burghers were killed, wounded, or taken prisoners; we could only bring
16 of our wounded with us. The Krugersdorpers, too, have suffered
severely. The enemy has pushed through, and I suppose my burghers are
now taking up a position in the “randten” near Onderbroekspruit.”

Here was a nice state of things! When I had left my commando 15 days
previously, we had had heavy losses in the battle of Vaalkrantz, and now
again my burghers had been badly cut up. We had lost over 100 men in one
month.

But there was no time to lose in lamenting over these matters, for I had
just received information that General P. Cronje had been taken prisoner
with 4,000 men. The next report was to the effect that the enemy was
breaking through near Onderbroekspruit, and that some burghers were
retiring past Ladysmith. I was still in telegraphic communication
(p. 105) with the head laager, and at once wired to the
Commandant-General for instructions. The answer was:—

“Send your carts back to Modderspruit (our headquarters) and
hold the position with your mounted commandos.”

The position indicated was on the Upper Tugela, on a line with Colenso.
My laager was about 20 miles away from the head laager; the enemy had
passed through Onderbroekspruit, and was pushing on with all possible
speed to relieve Ladysmith, so that I now stood in an oblique line with
the enemy’s rear. I sent out my carts to the south-west, going round
Ladysmith in the direction of Modderspruit. One of my scouts reported to
me that the Free State commandos which had been besieging Ladysmith to
the south, had all gone in the direction of Van Reenen’s Pass; another
brought the information that the enemy had been seen to approach the
village, and that a great force of cavalry was making straight for us.

General Joubert’s instructions were therefore inexplicable to me, and if
I had carried (p. 106) them out I would probably have been cut off by
the enemy. My burghers were also getting restless, and asked me why,
while all the other commandos were retiring, we did not move. Cronje’s
surrender had had a most disheartening effect on them; there was, in
fact, quite a panic among them. I mounted a high kopje from which I
could see the whole Orange Free State army, followed by a long line of
quite 500 carts and a lot of cattle, in full retreat, and enveloped in
great clouds of red dust. To the right of Ladysmith I also noticed a
similar melancholy procession. On turning round, I saw the English in
vast numbers approaching very cautiously, so slowly, in fact, that it
would take some time before they could reach us. Another and great force
was rushing up behind them, also in the direction of Ladysmith.

It must have been a race for the Distinguished Service Order or the
Victoria Cross to be won by the one who was first to enter Ladysmith. We
knew that the British infantry, aided by the artillery, had paved the
way for relief, and I noticed the Irish Fusiliers (p. 107) on this
occasion, as always, in the van. But Lord Dundonald rushed in and was
proclaimed the hero of the occasion.

Before concluding this chapter I should like to refer to a few incidents
which happened during the Siege of Ladysmith. It is unnecessary to give
a detailed description of the destruction of “Long Tom” at Lombardskop
or the blowing up of another gun west of Ladysmith, belonging to the
Pretoria Commando. The other side have written enough about this, and
made enough capital out of them; and many a D.S.O. and V.C. has been
awarded on account of them.

Alas, I can put forward nothing to lessen our dishonour. As regards the
“Long Tom” which was blown up, this was a piece of pure treachery, and a
shocking piece of neglect, Commandant Weilbach, who ought to have
defended this gun with the whole of his Heidelberg Commando, was
unfaithful to his charge. The Heidelbergers, however, under a better
officer, subsequently proved themselves excellent soldiers. A certain
Major Erasmus was also to blame. He was continually (p. 108) under the
influence of some beverage which could not be described as “aqua pura”;
and we, therefore, expected little from him. But although the planning
and the execution of the scheme to blow up “Long Tom” was a clever piece
of work, the British wasted time and opportunity amusing themselves in
cutting out on the gun the letters “R.A.” (Royal Artillery), and the
effect of the explosion was only to injure part of the barrel. After a
little operation in the workshops of the Netherlands South African
Railway Company at Pretoria under the direction of Mr. Uggla, our
gun-doctor, “Long Tom’s” mouth was healed and he could spit fire again
as well as before. As to the blowing up of the howitzer shortly after, I
will say the incident reflected no credit on General Erasmus, as he
ought to have been warned by what happened near Lombardskop, and to have
taken proper precautions not to give a group of starving and suffering
soldiers an opportunity of penetrating his lines and advancing right up
to his guns.

Both incidents will be an ugly blot on the history of this war, and I am
sorry to say the (p. 109) two Boer officers have never received condign
punishment. They should, at any rate, have been called before the
Commandant-General to explain their conduct.

The storming of Platrand (Cæsar’s Camp), south-east of Ladysmith, on the
6th of January, 1900, also turned out badly for many reasons. The attack
was not properly conducted owing to a jealousy amongst some of the
generals, and there was not proper co-operation.

The burghers who took part in the assault and captured several forts did
some splendid work, which they might well be proud of, but they were not
seconded as they should have been. The enemy knew that if they lost
Platrand, Ladysmith would have to surrender; they therefore defended
every inch of ground, with the result that our men were finally
compelled to give way. And, for our pains, we sustained an enormous loss
in men, which did not improve in any way the broken spirit of our
burghers.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 110) CHAPTER XII.

THE GREAT BOER RETREAT.

There was clearly no help for it, we had to retreat. I gave orders to
saddle up and to follow the example of the other commandos, reporting
the fact to the Commandant-General. An answer came—not from
Modderspruit this time, but from the station beyond Elandslaagte—that a
general retreat had been ordered, most of the commandos having already
passed Ladysmith, and that General Joubert had gone in advance to
Glencoe. At dusk I left the Tugela positions which we had so
successfully held for a considerable time, where we had arrested the
enemy from marching to the relief of Ladysmith, and where so many
comrades had sacrificed their lives for their country and their people.

It was a sad sight to see the commandos (p. 111) retreating in utter
chaos and disorder in all directions. I asked many officers what
instructions they had received, but nobody seemed to know what the
orders actually were; their only idea seemed to be to get away as
quickly as possible.

Finally, at 9 o’clock in the evening we reached Klip River, where a
strange scene was taking place. The banks were crowded with hundreds of
mounted men, carts and cattle mingled in utter confusion amongst the
guns, all awaiting their turn to cross. With an infinite amount of
trouble the carts were all got over one at a time. After a few minutes’
rest I decided on consulting my officers, that we should cross the river
with our men by another drift further up the stream, our example being
followed by a number of other commandos.

I should point out here that in retreating we were going to the left,
and therefore in perilous proximity to Ladysmith. The commandos which
had been investing the town were all gone; and Buller’s troops had
already reached it from the eastern side, and there (p. 112) was really
nothing to prevent the enemy from turning our rear, which had perforce
to pass Ladysmith on its way from the Tugela. When we had finally got
through the drift late that evening, a rumour reached us that the
British were in possession of Modderspruit, and so far as that road was
concerned, our retreat was effectually cut off.

Shortly before the War, however, the English had made a new road which
followed the course of the Klip River up to the Drakensbergen, and then
led through the Biggarsbergen to Newcastle. This road was, I believe,
made for military purposes; but it was very useful to us, and our wagons
were safely got away by it.

Commandant D. Joubert, of the Carolina Commando, then sent a message
asking for reinforcements for the Pretoria laager, situated to the
north-west of Ladysmith. It was a dark night and the rain was pouring
down in torrents, which rendered it very difficult to get the necessary
burghers together for this purpose.

I managed, however, to induce a sufficient (p. 113) number of men to
come together, and we rode back; but on nearing the Pretoria Laager, I
found to my dismay that there were only 22 of us left. What was to be
done? This handful of men was of very little use; yet to return would
have been cowardly, and besides, in the meantime our laager would have
gone on, and would now be several hours’ riding ahead of us. I sent some
burghers in advance to see what was happening to the Pretoria Laager. It
seemed strange to me that the place should still be in the hands of our
men, seeing that all the other commandos had long since retired. After
waiting fully an hour, our scouts came back with the information that
the laager was full of English soldiers, and that they had been able to
hear them quarrelling about the booty left behind by the burghers.

It was now two o’clock in the morning. Our Pretoria comrades were
apparently safe, and considerably relieved we decided to ride to
Elandslaagte which my men would by that time have surely reached. Our
carts (p. 114) were sooner or later bound to arrive there, inasmuch as
they were in charge of a field-cornet known to us as one of our best
“retreat officers.” I think it was splendid policy under the
circumstances to appoint such a gentleman to such a task; I felt sure
that the enemy would never overtake him and capture his carts. We
followed the main road, which was fortunately not held by the enemy, as
had been reported to us. On the way we encountered several carts and
waggons which had been cast away by the owners for fear of being caught
up by the pursuing troops. Of course the rumour that this road was in
possession of the English was false, but it increased the panic among
the burghers. Not only carts had been left behind, but, as we found in
places, sacks of flour, tins of coffee, mattresses and other jettison,
thrown out of the carts to lighten their burden.

On nearing Elandslaagte we caught up the rear of the fleeing
commandos. Here we learned that Generals Botha and Meyer were still
behind us with their commandos, near (p. 115) Lombardsdorp. We
off-saddled, exhausted and half starving. Luckily, some of the
provisions of our commissariat, which had been stored here during the
Ladysmith investment, had not been carried away. But, to our disgust,
we found that the Commissariat-Commissioner had set fire to the whole
of it, so we had to appease our hunger by picking half-burned potatoes
out of a fire.

At 7 o’clock next morning General Botha and his men arrived at
Elandslaagte and off-saddled in hopes of getting something to eat. They
were also doomed to disappointment. Such wanton destruction of God’s
bounty was loudly condemned, and had Mr. Pretorius, the Commissioner of
Stores, not been discreet enough to make himself scarce, he would no
doubt have been subjected to a severe “sjamboking.” Later in the day a
council of war was held, and it was decided that we should all stay
there for the day, in order to stop the enemy if they should pursue us.
Meantime we would allow the convoys an opportunity of getting to the
other side of the Sunday River.

(p. 116) The British must have been so overjoyed at the relief of
Ladysmith that Generals Buller and White did not think it necessary to
pursue us, at any rate for some time, a consideration for which we were
profoundly grateful. Methinks General Buller must have felt that he had
paid a big price for the relief of Ladysmith, for it must have cost him
many more lives than he had relieved. But in that place were a few
Jingos (Natal Jingos) who had to be released, I suppose, at any costs.

My burghers and I had neither cooking utensils nor food, and were
anxious to push forward and find our convoys; for we had not as yet
learned to live without carts and commissariat. At dusk the generals—I
have no idea who they were—ordered us to hold the “randjes” south of
the Sunday River till the following day, and that no burghers were to
cross the river. This order did not seem to please the majority, but the
Generals had put a guard near the bridge, with instructions to shoot any
burghers and their horses should they try to get to the other side; so
they had perforce, to remain where they were. Now I had (p. 117) only
22 men under my command, and I did not think these would make an
appreciable difference to our fighting force, so I said to myself:
“To-night we shall have a little game with the generals for once.”

We rode towards the bridge, and of course the guard there threatened to
fire on us if we did not go back immediately. My adjutant, however, rode
up and said: “Stand back, you ——! This is Commandant Viljoen, who has
been ordered to hurry up a patrol at ——” (mentioning some place a few
miles away) “which is in imminent danger of being captured.”

The guards, quite satisfied, stepped back and favoured us with a
military salute as we rode by. When we had been riding a little way I
heard someone ask them what “people” they were who had passed over the
bridge, and I caught the words: “Now you will see that they will all
want to cross.”

I do not contend I was quite right in acting in this insubordinate
manner, but we strongly objected to being put under the guard of other
commandos by some one (p. 118) irresponsible general. I went on that
night till we reached the Biggarsbergen, and next day sent out scouts in
the direction of the Drakensbergen to inquire for the scattered remains
of my commando. The mountains were covered with cattle from the laagers
about Glencoe Station. The Boers there were cooking food, shoeing their
horses, or repairing their clothes; in fact, they were very comfortable
and very busy. They remarked: “There are many more burghers yonder with
the General; we are quite sure of that.”… “The Commandant-General is
near Glencoe and will stop the retreating men.”

In short, as was continually happening in the War, everything was left
to chance and the Almighty. Luckily General Botha had deemed it his duty
to form a rearguard and cover our retreat; otherwise the English would
have captured a large number of laagers, and many burghers whose horses
were done up. But, whereas we had too little discipline, the English had
evidently too much. It is not for me to say why General Buller did not
have (p. 119) us followed up; but it seems that the British lost a
splendid chance.

Some days went by without anything of note happening. My scouts returned
on the third day and reported that my commando and its laager had safely
got through, and could be expected the next day. Meanwhile I had
procured some provisions at Glencoe, and for the time being we had
nothing to complain about.

I was very much amused next day to receive by despatch-rider a copy of a
telegram from Glencoe sent by General Joubert to General Prinsloo at
Harrismith (Orange Free State) asking for information regarding several
missing commandos and officers, amongst whom my name appeared, while the
telegram also contained the startling news that my commando had been
reported cut up at Klip River and that I had been killed in action! This
was the second time that I was killed, but one eventually gets used to
that sort of thing.

I sent, by the despatch-rider, this reply:—

“I and my commando are very much (p. 120) alive!” Adding: “Tell the
General we want four slaughter oxen.”

The following day I received orders to attend a council of war which was
to be held at Glencoe Station. The principal object of this gathering
was to discuss further plans of operation, to decide as to where our
next positions were to be taken, and where the new fighting line would
be formed.

General Joubert opening a Council of War with Prayer.

We all met at the appointed time in a big unoccupied hall near Glencoe
Station, where General Joubert opened the last council that he was to
conduct in this world. Over 50 officers were present and the interest
was very keen for several reasons. In the first place we all desired
some official information about the fate of General Cronje and his
burghers at Paardeburg, and in the second place some expected to hear
something definite about the intervention of which so much had been said
and written of late. In fact many thought that Russia, France, Germany
or the United States of America would surely intervene so soon as the
fortunes of war began to turn against us. My personal opinion was
(p. 121) stated just before the war at a public meeting, held in
Johannesburg, where I said: “If we are driven to war we must not rely
for deliverance on foreign powers, but on God and the Mauser.”

Some officers thought we ought to retire to our frontiers as far as
Laing’s Nek, and it was generally believed that this proposal would be
adopted. According to our custom General Joubert opened the council with
an address, in which he described the situation in its details. It was
evident that our Commandant-General was very low-spirited and
melancholy, and was suffering greatly from that painful internal
complaint which was so soon to put an end to his career.

No less than eleven assisting commandants and fighting generals were
present, and yet not one could say who was next in command to General
Joubert. I spoke to some friends about the irregularities which occurred
during our retreat from Ladysmith: how all the generals were absent
except Botha and Meyer, while the latter was on far from good terms with
General Joubert since the unfortunate (p. 122) attack on Platrand. This
was undoubtedly due to the want of co-operation on the part of the
various generals, and I resolved if possible, to bring our army into a
closer union. I therefore proposed a motion:—

“That all the generals be asked to resign, with the
exception of one assistant commandant-general and one
fighting general.”

Commandant Engelbrecht had promised to second my proposal, but when it
was read out his courage failed him. The motion, moreover, was not very
well received, and when it was put to the vote I found that I stood
alone, even my seconder having forsaken me. As soon as an opportunity
presented itself I asked General Joubert who was to be second in
command. My question was not answered directly, but egged on by my
colleagues, I asked whether General Botha would be next in command. To
this he replied: “Yes, that is what I understand—.”

And if I am not mistaken, this was the first announcement of the
important fact that Botha was to lead us in future.

(p. 123) Much more was said and much arranged; some of the commandos
were to go to Cape Colony and attempt to check the progress of Lord
Roberts, who was marching steadily north after Cronje’s surrender.
Finally each officer had some position assigned to him in the
mountain-chain we call the Biggarsbergen. I was placed under General
Meyer at Vantondersnek, near Pomeroy, and we left at once for our
destination. From this place a pass leads through the Biggarsbergen,
about 18 miles from Glencoe Station.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 124) CHAPTER XIII.

DRIVEN FROM THE BIGGARSBERGEN.

We spent the next few weeks in entrenching and fortifying our new
positions. General Botha had left with some men for the Orange Free
State which Lord Roberts, having relieved Kimberley, was marching
through. General Joubert died about this time at Pretoria, having been
twenty-one years Commandant-General of the South African Republic. He
was without doubt one of the most prominent figures in the South African
drama.

General Botha now took up the chief command and soon proved himself to
be worthy of holding the reins. He enjoyed the confidence and esteem of
our whole army, a very important advantage under our trying
circumstances.

(p. 125) Assisted by De Wet he was soon engaged in organizing the
commandos in the Orange Free State, and in attempting to make some sort
of a stand against the British, who were now marching through the
country in overwhelming numbers. In this Republic the burghers had been
under the command of the aged General Prinsloo, who now, however, had
become so downhearted that the supreme command was taken from him and
given to General De Wet. Prinsloo surrendered soon after, in doing which
he did his people his greatest service; it was, however, unfortunate
that he should have succeeded in leading with him 900 burghers into the
hands of the enemy.

In the Biggarsbergen we had nothing to do but to sleep and eat and
drink. On two separate occasions, however, we were ordered to join
others in attacking the enemy’s camp at Elandslaagte. This was done with
much ado, but I would rather say nothing about the way in which the
attacks were directed. It suffices to say that both failed miserably,
and we were forced to retire considerably quicker than we had come.

(p. 126) Our generals, meantime, were very busy issuing innumerable
circulars to the different commandos. It is impossible for me to
remember the contents of all these curious manifestos, but one read as
follows:—

“A roll-call of all burghers is to be taken daily; weekly
reports are to be sent to headquarters of each separate
commando, and the minimum number of burghers making up a
field-cornetship is therein to be stated. Every 15 men
forming a field-cornetship are to be under a corporal; and
these corporals are to hold a roll-call every day, and to
send in weekly detailed reports of their men to the
Field-Cornet and Commandant, who in his turn must report to
the General.”

Another lengthy circular had full instructions and regulations for the
granting of “leave” to burghers, an intricate arrangement which gave
officers a considerable amount of trouble. The scheme was known as the
“furlough system,” and was an effort to introduce a show of organisation
into the weighty matter of granting leave of absence. It failed,
however, completely to have its desired effect. It provided that
one-tenth of each commando should be granted furlough for a fortnight,
and then (p. 127) return to allow another tenth part to go in its turn.
In a case of sick leave, a doctor’s certificate was required, which had
to bear the counter-signature of the field-cornet; its possessor was
then allowed to go home instead of to the hospital. Further, a
percentage of the farmers were allowed from time to time to go home and
attend to pressing matters of their farms, such as harvesting, shearing
sheep, etc. Men were chosen by the farmers to go and attend to matters
not only for themselves but for other farmers in their districts as
well. The net result of all this was that when everybody who could on
some pretext or other obtain furlough had done so, about a third of each
commando was missing. My burghers who were mostly men from the
Witwatersrand Goldfields, could of course obtain no leave for farming
purposes; and great dissatisfaction prevailed. I was inundated with
complaints about their unfair treatment in this respect and only settled
matters with considerable trouble.

I agree that this matter had to be regulated somehow, and I do not blame
the authorities (p. 128) for their inability to cope with the
difficulty. It seemed a great pity, however, that the commandos should
be weakened so much and that the fighting spirit should be destroyed in
this fashion. Of course it was our first big war and our arrangements
were naturally of a very primitive character.

It was the beginning of May before our friends the enemy at Ladysmith
and Elandslaagte began to show some signs of activity. We discovered
unmistakable signs that some big forward movement was in progress, but
we could not discover on which point the attack was to be directed.
Buller and his men were marching on the road along Vantondersnek, and I
scented heavy fighting for us again. I gathered a strong patrol and
started out to reconnoitre the position. We found that the enemy had
pitched their camp past Waschbank in great force, and were sending out
detachments in an easterly direction. From this I concluded that they
did not propose going through Vantondersnek, but that they intended to
attack our left flank at Helpmakaar. This seemed to me, (p. 129) at any
rate, to be General Buller’s safest plan.

Helpmakaar was east of my position; it is a little village elbowed in a
pass in the Biggarsbergen. By taking this point one could hold the key
to our entire extended line of defence, as was subsequently only too
clearly shown. I pointed this out to some of our generals, but a
commandant’s opinion did not weigh much just then; nor was any notice
taken of a similar warning from Commandant Christian Botha, who held a
position close to mine with the Swaziland burghers.

We had repeated skirmishes with the English outposts during our scouting
expeditions, and on one occasion we suddenly encountered a score of men
of the South African Light Horse.

We noticed them in a “donk” (a hollow place) thickly covered with trees
and bushes, but not before we were right amongst them. It appears they
mistook us for Englishmen, while we thought at first they were members
of Colonel Blake’s Irish Brigade. Many of them shook hands with us, and
a burgher named (p. 130) Vivian Cogell asked them in Dutch: “How are
you, boys?”

To which an Englishman, who understood a little Dutch, answered: “Oh,
all right; where do you come from?”

Vivian replied: “From Viljoen’s commando; we are scouting.”

Then the Englishman discovered who we were, but Vivian gave the man no
time for reflection. Riding up to him, he asked: “What regiment do you
belong to?”

“To the South African Light Horse,” answered the Englishman.

“Hands up!” retorted Vivian, and the English-Afrikander threw down his
gun and put up his hands.

“Hands up! Hands up!” was the cry now universally heard, and although a
few escaped, the majority were disarmed and made prisoners. It had been
made a rule that when a burgher captured a British soldier he should be
allowed to conduct him to Pretoria, where he could then obtain a few
days’ leave to visit his family. This did much to encourage our burghers
to make prisoners, (p. 131) although many lost their lives in
attempting to do so.

The next day, General Buller marched on Helpmakaar, passing close to our
position. We fired a few shots from our Creusot gun, and had several
light skirmishes. The enemy, however, concentrated the fire of a few
batteries on us, and our guns were soon silenced.

General L. Meyer had arrived with some reinforcements close to
Helpmakaar, but the position had never been strengthened, and the sole
defending force consisted of the Piet Retief burghers, known as the
“Piet Retreaters,” together with a small German corps. The result was
easy to predict. The attack was made, and we lost the position without
seriously attempting to defend it. Buller was now, therefore, in
possession of the key to the Boer position in Natal, a position which we
had occupied for two months—and could therefore, have fortified to
perfection—and whose strategic importance should have been known in its
smallest details. I think our generals, who had a sufficient force at
their (p. 132) disposal, of which the mobility has become world-famed,
should have been able to prevent such a fiasco as our occupation of the
splendid line of defence in the Biggarsbergen turned out to be.

Here, for the first time in the war, General Buller utilised his
success, and followed up our men as they were retreating on Dundee. He
descended by the main waggon track from Helpmakaar, and drove the
commandos like sheep before him. I myself was obliged to move away in
hot haste and join the general retreat. Once or twice our men attempted
to make a stand, but with little success.

When we reached Dundee the enemy gradually slackened off pursuit, and at
dark we were clear of them. Satisfied with their previous day’s success,
and sadly hampered by their enormous convoys, the English now allowed us
to move on at our leisure.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 133) CHAPTER XIV.

DISPIRITED AND DEMORALISED.

Our first intention was to proceed to Vereeniging, there to join General
Botha’s forces. At Klip River Station, that preceding Vereeniging, I was
ordered, however, to leave my carts behind and proceed with my men to
Vaalbank, as the enemy were advancing with forced marches, and had
compelled all the other commandos to fall back on Vereeniging.

On our way we met groups of retreating burghers, each of whom gave us a
different version of the position. Some said that the enemy had already
swept past Vereeniging, others that they could not now be stopped until
they reached Johannesburg. Further on, we had the good fortune to
encounter General Botha and his staff. The General ordered me to take up
a position at the Gatsrand, near the (p. 134) Nek at Pharaohsfontein,
as the British, having split their forces up into two parts, would send
one portion to cross the Vaal River at Lindeque’s Drift, whilst the
other detachments would follow the railway past Vereeniging. Generals
Lemmer and Grobler were already posted at the Gatsrand to obstruct the
enemy’s progress.

I asked General Botha how we stood. He sighed, and answered: “If only
the burghers would fight we could stop them easily enough; but I cannot
get a single burgher to start fighting. I hope their running mood will
soon change into a fighting mood. You keep your spirits up, and let us
do our duty.”

“All right, General,” I answered, and we shook hands heartily.

We rode on through the evening and at midnight halted at a farm to give
our horses rest and fodder. The owner of the farm was absent on duty,
and his family had been left behind. On our approach the women-folk,
mistaking us for Englishmen, were terrified out of their wits.
Remembering the atrocities and horrors committed in Natal on the
(p. 135) advance of the Imperial troops, they awaited the coming of the
English with the greatest terror. On the approach of the enemy many
women and children forsook their homes and wandered about in caves and
woods for days, exposed to every privation and inclemency of the
weather, and to the attacks of wandering bands of plundering kaffirs.

Mrs. van der Merwe, whom we met here, was exceedingly kind to us, and
gave us plenty of fodder for our horses. We purchased some sheep, and
slaughtered them and enjoyed a good meal before sunrise; and each one of
us bore away a good-sized piece of mutton as provisions for the future.

Our scouts, whom we had despatched over night, informed us that Generals
Lemmer and Grobler had taken up their stand to the right of
Pharaohsfontein in the Gatsrand, and that the English were approaching
in enormous force.

By nine in the morning we had taken up our positions, and at noon the
enemy came in sight. Our commando had been considerably reduced, as many
burghers, finding themselves (p. 136) near their homes, had applied for
twenty-four hours’ leave, which had been granted in order to allow them
to arrange matters before the advance of the English on their farms made
it impossible. A few also had deserted for the time being, unable to
resist the temptation of visiting their families in the neighbourhood.

Some old burghers approached us and hailed us with the usual “Morning,
boys! Which commando do you belong to?”

“Viljoen’s.”

“We would like to see your Commandant,” they answered.

Presenting myself, I asked: “Who are you, and where do you come from,
and where are you going to?”

They answered: “We are scouts of General Lemmer and we came to see who
is holding this position.”

“But surely General Lemmer knows that I am here?”

A Surprise.—Coyell Meeting the Imperial Light Horse.

“Very probably,” they replied, “but we wanted to know for ourselves; we
thought we might find some of our friends (p. 137) amongst you. You
come from Natal, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I answered sadly. “We have come to reinforce the others, but I
fear we can be of little use. It seems to me that it will be here as it
was in Natal; all running and no fighting.”

“Alas!” they said, “the Free Staters will not remain in one position,
and we must admit the Transvaalers are also very disheartened. However,
if the British once cross our frontiers you will find that the burghers
will fight to the bitter end.”

Consoled by this pretty promise we made up our minds to do our best, but
our outposts presently brought word that the British were bearing to the
right and nearing General Grobler’s position, and had passed round that
of General Lemmer. Whilst they attacked General Grobler’s we attacked
their flank, but we could not do much damage, as we were without guns.
Soon after the enemy directed a heavy artillery fire on us, to which we,
being on flat ground, found ourselves dangerously exposed.

(p. 138) Towards evening the enemy were in possession of General
Grobler’s position, and were passing over the Gatsrand, leaving us
behind. I ordered my commando to fall back on Klipriversberg, while I
rode away with some adjutants to attempt to put myself in communication
with the other commandos.

The night was dark and cloudy, which rendered it somewhat difficult for
us to move about in safety. We occasionally fell into ditches and
trenches, and had much trouble with barbed wire. However, we finally
fell in with General Lemmer’s rearguard, who informed us that the enemy,
after having overcome the feeble resistance of General Grobler, had
proceeded north, and all the burghers were retreating in haste before
them.

We rode on past the enemy to find General Grobler and what his plans
were. We rode quite close to the English camp, as we knew that they
seldom posted sentries far from their tents. On this occasion, however,
they had placed a guard in an old “klipkraal,” for them a prodigious
distance from their camp, and a “Tommy” hailed us from the darkness.—

(p. 139) “Halt, who goes there?”

I replied “Friend,” whereupon the guileless soldier answered:

“Pass, friend, all’s well.”

I had my doubts, however. He might be a Boer outpost anxious to
ascertain if we were Englishmen. Afraid to ride into ambush of my own
men, I called out in Dutch:

“Whose men are you?”

The Tommy lost his temper at being kept awake so long and retorted
testily, “I can’t understand your beastly Dutch; come here and be
recognized.” But we did not wait for identification, and I rode off
shouting back “Thanks, my compliments to General French, and tell him
that his outposts are asleep.”

This was too much for the “Tommy” and his friends, who answered with a
volley of rifle fire, which was taken up by the whole line of British
outposts. No harm was done, however, and we soon rode out of range. I
gave up looking for General Grobler, and on the following morning
rejoined my men at Klipriversberg.

It was by no means easy to find out the (p. 140) exact position of
affairs. Our scouts reported that the enemy’s left wing, having broken
through General Grobler’s position, were now marching along Van Wijk’s
Rust. I could, however, obtain no definite information regarding the
right wing, nor could I discover the General under whose orders I was to
place myself. General Lemmer, moreover, was suffering from an acute
disease of the kidneys, which had compelled him to hand over his command
to Commandant Gravett, who had proved himself an excellent officer.

General Grobler had lost the majority of his men, or what was more
likely the case, they had lost him. He declared that he was unaware of
General Botha’s or Mr. Kruger’s plans, and that it was absurd to keep
running away, but he clearly did not feel equal to any more fighting,
although he had not the moral courage to openly say so. From this point
this gentleman did no further service to his country, and was shortly
afterwards dismissed. The reader will now gather an idea of the enormous
change which had come over our troops. Six months before (p. 141) they
had been cheerful and gay, confident of the ultimate success of their
cause; now they were downhearted and in the lowest of spirits. I must
admit that in this our officers were no exception.

Those were dark days for us. Now began the real fighting, and this under
the most difficult and distressing circumstances; and I think that if
our leaders could have had a glimpse of the difficulties and hardships
that were before us, they would not have had the courage to proceed any
further in the struggle.

Early next morning (the 29th May, 1900) we reached Klipspruit, and found
there several other commandos placed in extended order all the way up to
Doornkop.

Amongst them was that of General De la Rey, who had come from the
Western frontier of our Republic, and that of General Snyman, whom I
regard as the real defender and reliever of Mafeking, for he was afraid
to attack a garrison of 1,000 men with twice that number of burghers.

Before having had time to properly fortify (p. 142) our position we
were attacked on the right flank by General French’s cavalry, while the
left flank had to resist a strong opposing force of cavalry. Both
attacks were successfully repulsed, as well as a third in the centre of
our fighting line.

The British now marched on Doornkop, their real object of attack being
our extreme right wing, but they made a feint on our left. Our line of
defence was very extended and weakened by the removal of a body of men
who had been sent to Natal Spruit to stop the other body of the enemy
from forcing its way along the railway line and cutting off our retreat
to Pretoria.

The battle lasted till sunset, and was especially fierce on our right,
where the Krugersdorpers stood. Early in the evening our right wing had
to yield to an overwhelming force, and during the night all the
commandos had to fall back. My commando, which should have consisted of
about 450 men, only numbered 65 during this engagement; our losses were
two men killed. I was also slightly wounded in the thigh by a piece of
(p. 143) shell, but I had no time to attend such matters, as we had to
retire in haste, and the wound soon healed.

The next day our forces were again in full retreat to Pretoria, where I
understood we were to make a desperate stand. About seven o’clock we
passed through Fordsburg, a suburb of Johannesburg.

We had been warned not to enter Johannesburg, as Dr. Krause, who had
taken from me the command of the town, had already surrendered it to
Lord Roberts, who might shell it if he found commandos were there. Our
larger commissariat had proceeded to Pretoria, but we wanted several
articles of food, and strange to say the commissariat official at
Johannesburg would not give us anything for fear of incurring Lord
Roberts’ displeasure!

I was very angry; the enemy were not actually in possession of the town,
and I therefore should have been consulted in the matter; but these
irresponsible officials even refused to grant us the necessaries of
life!

At this time there was a strong movement (p. 144) on foot to blow up
the principal mines about Johannesburg, and an irresponsible young
person named Antonie Kock had placed himself at the head of a
confederacy with this object in view. But thanks to the explicit orders
of General L. Botha, which were faithfully carried out by Dr. Krause,
Kock’s plan was fortunately frustrated, and I fully agree with Botha
that it would have been most impolitic to have allowed this destruction.
I often wished afterwards, however, that the British military
authorities had shown as much consideration for our property.

We had to have food in any case, and as the official hesitated to supply
us we helped ourselves from the Government Stores, and proceeded to the
capital. The roads to Pretoria were crowded with men, guns, and vehicles
of every description, and despondency and despair were plainly visible
on every human face.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 145) CHAPTER XV.

OCCUPATION OF PRETORIA.

The enemy naturally profited by our confusion to pursue us more closely
than before. The prospect before us was a sad one, and we asked
ourselves, “What is to be the end of all this, and what is to become of
our poor people? Shall we be able to prolong the struggle, and for how
long?”

But no prolongation of the struggle appeared to have entered into our
enemy’s minds, who evidently thought that the War had now come upon its
last stage, and they were as elated as we were downhearted. They made
certain that the Boer was completely vanquished, and his resistance
effectually put an end to. At this juncture Conan Doyle, after pointing
out what glorious liberty (p. 146) and progress would fall to the
Boers’ lot under the British flag, wrote:—

“When that is learned it may happen that they will come to
date a happier life and a wider liberty from that 5th of
June which saw the symbol of their nation pass for ever from
the ensigns of the world.”

Thus, not only did Lord Roberts announce to the world that “the War was
now practically over,” but Conan Doyle did not hesitate to say the same
in more eloquent style.

How England utterly under-estimated the determination of the Boers,
subsequent events have plainly proved. It is equally plain that we
ourselves did not know the strength of our resolution, when one takes
into account the pessimism and despair that weighed us down in those
dark days; and as the Union Jack was flying over our Government
buildings we might have exclaimed:—”England, we do not know our
strength, but you know it still less!”

Nearly all the commandos were now in the neighbourhood of Pretoria,
General Botha forming a rearguard, and we determined to defend the
capital as well as we could. But (p. 147) at this juncture some Boer
officer was said to have received a communication from the Government,
informing us that they had decided not to defend the town. A cyclist was
taking this communication round to the different commandos, but the
Commandant-General did not seem to be aware of it, and we tried in vain
to find him so as to discover what his plans were. The greatest
confusion naturally prevailed, and as all the generals gave different
orders, no one knew what was going to be done. I believe General Botha
intended to concentrate the troops round Pretoria, and there offer some
sort of resistance to the triumphant forces of the enemy, and we had all
understood that the capital would be defended to the last; but this
communication altered the position considerably. Shortly afterwards all
the Boer officers met at Irene Estate, near Pretoria, in a council of
war, and were there informed that the Government had already forsaken
the town, leaving a few “feather-bed patriots” to formally surrender the
town to the English.

I thought this decision of easy surrender (p. 148) ridiculous and
inexplicable, and many officers joined me in loud condemnation of it. I
do not remember exactly all that happened at the time, but I know a
telegram arrived from the Commandant-General saying that a crowd had
broken open the Commissariat Buildings in Pretoria and were looting
them. An adjutant was sent into Pretoria to spread an alarm that the
English were entering the town, and this had the effect of driving all
the looters out of it. Some of my own men were engaged in these
predatory operations, and I did not see them again until three days
after.

The English approached Pretoria very cautiously, and directed some big
naval guns on our forts built round the town, to which we replied for
some time with our guns from the “randten,” south-west of the town; but
our officers were unable to offer any organised resistance, and thus on
the 5th of June, 1900, the capital of the South African Republic fell
with little ado into the enemy’s hands. Bloemfontein, the capital of the
Orange Free State, had months before suffered the same fate, and
thousands of Free Staters had surrendered (p. 149) to the English as
they marched from Bloemfontein to the Transvaal. Happily, however, in
the Free State President Steyn and General De Wet were still wide awake
and Lord Roberts very soon discovered that his long lines of
communication were a source of great trouble and anxiety to him. The
commandos, meanwhile, were reorganised; the buried Mausers and
ammunition were once more resurrected, and soon it became clear that the
Orange Free State was far from conquered.

The fall of Pretoria, indeed, was but a sham victory for the enemy. A
number of officials of the Government remained behind there and
surrendered, together with a number of burghers, amongst these
faint-hearted brethren being even members of the Volksraad and men who
had played a prominent part in the Republic’s history; while to the
everlasting shame of them and their race, a number of other Boers
entered at once into the English service and henceforth used their
rifles to shoot at and maim their own fellow-countrymen.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 150) CHAPTER XVI.

BATTLE OF DONKERHOEK (“DIAMOND HILL”).

Our first and best positions were now obviously the kopjes which
stretched from Donkerhoek past Waterval and Wonderboompoort. This chain
of mountains runs for about 12 miles E. and N.E. of Pretoria, and our
positions here would cut off all the roads of any importance to
Pietersburg, Middelburg, as well as the Delagoa Bay railway. We
therefore posted ourselves along this range, General De la Rey forming
the right flank, some of our other fighting generals occupying the
centre, whilst Commandant-General Botha himself took command of the left
flank.

On the 11th of June, 1900, Lord Roberts approached with a force of
28,000 to 30,000 men and about 100 guns, in order, as the official
despatches had it, “to clear the Boers from the (p. 151) neighbourhood
of Pretoria.” Their right and left flanks were composed of cavalry,
whilst the centre was formed of infantry regiments; their big guns were
placed in good positions and their field pieces were evenly distributed
amongst the different army divisions.

Towards sunset they began booming away at our whole 13 miles of defence.
Our artillery answered their fire from all points with excellent
results, and when night fell the enemy retired a little with
considerable losses.

The battle was renewed again next day, the enemy attempting to turn our
right with a strong flanking movement, but was completely repulsed.
Meanwhile I at Donkerpoort proper had the privilege of being left
unmolested for several hours. The object of this soon became apparent. A
little cart drawn by two horses and bearing a white flag came down the
road from Pretoria. From it descended two persons, Messrs. Koos Smit,
our Railway Commissioner and Mr. J. F. de Beer, Chief Inspector of
Offices, both high officials of the South African Republic. I called out
to them from a distance.

(p. 152) “Halt, you cannot pass. What do you want?”

Smit said, “I want to see Botha and President Kruger. Dr. Scholtz is
also with us. We are sent by Lord Roberts.”

I answered Mr. Smit that traitors were not admitted on our premises, and
that he would have to stay where he was. Turning to some burghers who
were standing near I gave instructions that the fellows were to be
detained.

Mr. Smit now began to “sing small,” and turning deadly pale, asked in a
tremulous voice if there were any chance of seeing Botha.

“Your request,” I replied, “will be forwarded.” Which was done.

An hour passed before General Botha sent word that he was coming.
Meanwhile the battle continued raging fiercely, and a good many lyddite
bombs were straying our way. The “white-flaggists” appeared to be very
anxious to know if the General would be long in coming, and if their
flag could not be hoisted in a more conspicuous place. The (p. 153)
burghers guarding them pointed out, however, that the bombs came from
their own British friends.

After a while General Botha rode up. He offered a far from cordial
welcome to the deputation.

Dr. Scholtz produced a piece of paper and said Lord Roberts had sent him
to enquire why Botha insisted on more unnecessary bloodshed, and why he
did not come in to make peace, and that sort of thing.

Botha asked if Scholtz held an authoritative letter or document from the
English general, to which the Doctor replied in the negative.

Smit now suggested that he should be allowed to see Mr. Kruger, but
Botha declared, with considerable emphasis, “Look here, your conduct is
nothing less than execrable, and I shall not allow you to see Mr.
Kruger. You are a couple of contemptible scoundrels, and as for Dr.
Scholtz, his certificate looks rather dubious. You will go back and give
the following message to Lord Roberts:—

“That this is not the first time messages of this (p. 154)
description are sent to me in an unofficial manner; that
these overtures have also sometimes been made in an
insulting form, but always equally unofficially. I have to
express my surprise at such tactics on the part of a man in
Lord Roberts’ position. His Lordship may think that our
country is lost to us, but I shall do my duty towards it all
the same. They can shoot me for it or imprison me, or banish
me, but my principles and my character they cannot assail.”

One could plainly see that the conscience-stricken messengers winced
under the reproach. Not another word was said, and the noble trio turned
on their heels and took their white flag back to Pretoria.

Whether Botha was right in allowing these “hands-uppers” to return, is a
question I do not care to discuss, but many burghers had their own
opinion about it. Still, if they had been detained by us and shot for
high treason, what would not have been said by those who did not
hesitate to send our own unfaithful burghers to us to induce us to
surrender.

I cannot say whether Lord Roberts was personally responsible for the
sending of these messengers, but that such action was (p. 155)
extremely improper no one can deny. It was a specially stupendous piece
of impudence on the part of these men, J. S. Smit and J. F. de Beer,
burghers both, and highly placed officials of the S. A. Republic. They
had thrown down their arms and sworn allegiance to an enemy, thereby
committing high treason in the fullest sense of the word. They now came
through the fighting lines of their former comrades to ascertain from
the commanders of the republican army why the whole nation did not
follow their example, why they would not surrender their liberty and
very existence as a people and commit the most despicable act known to
mankind.

“Pretoria was in British hands!” As if, forsooth, the existence of our
nationality began and ended in Pretoria! Pretoria was after all only a
village where “patriots” of the Smit and de Beer stamp had for years
been fattening on State funds, and, having filled their pockets by means
of questionable practices, had helped to damage the reputation of a
young and virile nation.

Not only had they enjoyed the spoils of (p. 156) high office in the
State Service offices, to which a fabulous remuneration was attached,
but they belonged to the Boer aristocracy, members of honourable
families whose high birth and qualities had secured for them preference
over thousands of other men and the unlimited confidence of the Head of
State. Little wonder these gentlemen regarded the fall of Pretoria as
the end of the war!

The battle continued the whole day; it was fiercest on our left flank,
where General French and his cavalry charged the positions of the Ermelo
and Bethel burghers again and again, each time to be repulsed with heavy
losses. Once the lancers attacked so valiantly that a hand-to-hand fight
ensued. The commandant of the Bethel burghers afterwards told me that
during the charge his kaffir servant got among the lancers and called
upon them to “Hands up!” The unsophisticated native had heard so much
about “hands up,” and “hands-uppers,” that he thought the entire English
language consisted of those two simple words, and when one lancer
shouted to him “Hands up,” he echoed “Hands up.” (p. 157) The British
cavalryman thrust his lance through the nigger’s arm, still shouting
“Hands up,” the black man retreating, also vociferously shrieking “Hands
up, boss; hands up!”

When his master asked him why he had shouted “Hands up” so persistently
though he was running away, he answered: “Ah, boss, me hear every day
people say, ‘Hands up;’ now me think this means kaffir ‘Soebat’ (to
beg). I thought it mean, ‘Leave off, please,’ but the more I shouted
‘Hands up’ English boss prod me with his assegai all the same.”

On our right General De la Rey had an equally awkward position; the
British here also made several determined attempts to turn his flank,
but were repulsed each time. Once during an attack on our right, their
convoy came so close to our position that our artillery and our Mausers
were enabled to pour such a fire into them that the mules drawing the
carts careered about the veldt at random, and the greatest confusion
ensued. British mules were “pro-Boer” throughout the War. The ground,
(p. 158) however, was not favourable for our operations, and we failed
to avail ourselves of the general chaos. Towards the evening of the
second day General Tobias Smuts made an unpardonable blunder in falling
back with his commandos. There was no necessity for the retreat; but it
served to show the British that there was a weak point in our armoury.
Indeed, the following day the attack in force was made upon this point.
The British had meantime continued pouring in reinforcements, men as
well as guns.

About two o clock in the afternoon Smuts applied urgently for
reinforcements, and I was ordered by the Commandant-General to go to his
position. A ride of a mile and a half brought us near Smuts; our horses
were put behind a “randje,” the enemy’s bullets and shells meantime
flying over their heads without doing much harm. We then hurried up on
foot to the fighting line, but before we could reach the position
General Smuts and his burghers had left it. At first I was rather in the
dark as to what it all meant until we discovered that the British had
won Smuts’ (p. 159) position, and from it were firing upon us. We fell
down flat behind the nearest “klips” and returned the fire, but were at
a disadvantage, since the British were above us. I never heard where
General Smuts and his burghers finally got to. On our left we had
Commandant Kemp with the Krugersdorpers; on the right Field-Cornet Koen
Brits. The British tried alternately to get through between one of my
neighbours and myself, but we succeeded, notwithstanding their fierce
onslaught, in turning them back each time. All we could do, however, was
to hold our own till dark. Then orders were given to “inspan” all our
carts and other conveyances as the commandos would all have to retire.

I do not know the extent of the British losses in that engagement. My
friend Conan Doyle wisely says nothing about them, but we knew they had
suffered very severely indeed. Our losses were not heavy; but we had to
regret the death of brave Field-Cornet Roelf Jansen and some other
plucky burghers. Dr. Doyle, referring to the engagement, says:

“‘The two days’ prolonged struggle (p. 160) (Diamond Hill) showed that
there was still plenty of fight in the burghers. Lord Roberts had not
routed them,” etc.

Thus ended the battle of Donkerhoek, and next day our commandos were
falling back to the north.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 161) CHAPTER XVII.

I BECOME A GENERAL.

In our retreat northwards the English did not pursue us. They contented
themselves by fortifying the position we had evacuated between
Donkerhoek and Wonderboompoort. Meantime our commandos proceeded along
the Delagoa Bay Railway until we reached Balmoral Station, while other
little divisions of ours were at Rhenosterkop, north of Bronkhorst
Spruit.

I may state that this general retreat knocked the spirit out of some of
our weaker brethren. Hundreds of Boers rode into Pretoria with the white
flag suspended from their Mauser barrels. In Pretoria there were many
prominent burghers who had readily accepted the new conditions, and
these were employed by the British to induce other Boers within reach,
by manner of all sorts of specious promises, to lay down their arms.
Many more western (p. 162) district Boers quietly returned to their
homes. Luckily, the Boer loves his Mauser too well to part with it,
except on compulsion, and although the majority of these western Boers
handed in their weapons, some retained them.

They retained their weapons by burying them, pacifying the confiding
British officer in charge of the district by handing in rusty and
obsolete Martini-Henris or a venerable blunderbuss which nobody had used
since ancestral Boer shot lions with it in the mediæval days of the
first great trek. The buried Mausers came in very useful afterwards.

About this time General Buller entered the Republic from the Natal side,
and marched with his force through the southern districts of
Wakkerstroom, Standerton, and Ermelo. Hundreds of burghers remained on
their farms and handed their weapons to the British. In some districts,
for instance, at Standerton, the commandant and two out of his three
field-cornets surrendered. Thus, not only were some commandos without
officers, but others entirely disappeared from our army. Still, at the
psychological moment a Joshua (p. 163) would appear, and save the
situation, as, for instance, in the Standerton district, where
Assistant-Field-Cornet Brits led a forlorn hope and saved a whole
commando from extinction. The greatest mischief was done by many of our
landdrosts, who, after having surrendered, sent out communications to
officers and burghers exhorting them to come in.

The majority of our Boer officers, however, remained faithful to their
vow, though since the country was partly occupied by the British it was
difficult to get in touch with the Commandant-General or the Government,
and the general demoralisation prevented many officers from asserting
their authority.

Generals Sarel Oosthuizen and H. L. Lemmer, both now deceased, were sent
to the north of Pretoria, to collect the burghers from the western
districts, and to generally rehabilitate their commandos. They were
followed by Assistant-Commandant General J. H. De la Rey and State
Attorney Smuts (our legal adviser). It was at this point, indeed, that
the supreme command of the western (p. 164) districts was assumed by
General De la Rey, who, on his way to the north, attacked and defeated
an English garrison at Selatsnek.

The “reorganisation” of our depleted commandos proceeded very well;
about 95 per cent. of the fighting Boers rejoined, and speedily the
commandos in the western districts had grown to about 7,000 men.

But just a few weeks after his arrival in the West Krugersdorp district,
poor, plucky Sarel Oosthuizen was severely wounded in the battle of
Dwarsvlei, and died of his wounds some time after.

General H. Lemmer, a promising soldier, whom we could ill spare, was
killed soon after while storming Lichtenburg under General De la Rey, an
engagement in which we did not succeed. We had much trouble in replacing
these two brave generals, whose names will live for all time in the
history of the Boer Republics.

It is hardly necessary to dwell on the splendid work done by
Assistant-Commandant-General De la Rey in the western districts.
Commandant-General Botha was also hard (p. 165) worked at this stage,
and was severely taxed reorganising his commandos and filling up the
lamentable vacancies caused by the deaths of Lemmer and Oosthuizen.

I have already pointed out that General De la Rey had taken with him the
remainder of the burghers from the western districts. The following
commandos were now left to us:—Krugersdorp and Germiston, respectively,
under the then Commandants J. Kemp and C. Gravett, and the Johannesburg
police, with some smaller commandos under the four fighting generals,
Douthwaith, Snyman (of Mafeking fame), Liebenberg, and Du Toit. The last
four generals were “sent home” and their burghers with those of
Krugersdorp, Germiston, Johannesburg, Boksburg and the Mounted Police,
were placed under my command, while I myself was promoted to the rank of
General. I had now under me 1,200 men, all told—a very fair force.

I can hardly describe my feelings on hearing of my promotion to such a
responsible position. For the first time during the War I felt a sort of
trepidation. I had all sorts of misgivings; (p. 166) how should I be
able to properly guard the interests of such a great commando? Had I a
right to do so? Would the burghers be satisfied? It was all very well to
say that they would have to be satisfied, but if they had shown signs of
dissatisfaction I should have felt bound to resign. I am not in the
habit of blinking at facts; they are stern things. What was to become of
me if I had to tender my resignation? I was eager and rash, like most
young officers, for although the prospects of our cause were not
brilliant and our army had suffered some serious reverses, I still had
implicit faith in the future, and above all, in the justice of the cause
for which we were fighting. And I knew, moreover, that the burghers we
now had left with us were determined and firm.

There was only one way open to me: to take the bull by the horns. I
thought it my duty to go the round of all the commandos, call the
burghers together, tell them I had been appointed, ask them their
opinion on the appointment, and give them some particulars of the new
organisation.

(p. 167) I went to the Krugersdorp Commando first. All went well, and
the burghers comprising the force received me very cordially. There was
a lot of questioning and explanations; one of the commandants was so
moved by my address that he requested those who were present to conclude
the meeting by singing Psalm 134, verse 3, after which he exhorted his
fellow burghers in an impassioned speech to be obedient and determined.

The worst of it was that he asked me to wind up by offering a prayer. I
felt as if I would gladly have welcomed the earth opening beneath me. I
had never been in such a predicament before. To refuse, to have pleaded
exoneration from this solemn duty, would have been fatal, for a Boer
general is expected, amongst other things, to conduct all proceedings of
a religious character. And not only Boer generals are required to do
this thing, but all subordinate officers, and an officer who cannot
offer a suitable prayer generally receives a hint that he is not worthy
of his position. In these matters the burghers are backed up by the
parsons.

(p. 168) There was, therefore, no help for it; I felt like a stranger in
Jerusalem, and resolved to mumble a bit of a prayer as well as I could.
I need not say it was short, but I doubt very much whether it was
appropriate, for all sorts of thoughts passed through my head, and I
felt as if all the bees in this world were buzzing about my ears. Of
course I had to shut my eyes; I knew that. But I had, moreover, to screw
them up, for I knew that everybody was watching me. I closed my eyes
very tightly, and presently there came a welcome “Amen.”

My old commando was now obliged to find a new commandant and I had to
take leave of them in that capacity. I was pleased to find the officers
and men were sorry to lose me as their commandant, but they said they
were proud of the distinction that had been conferred upon me.
Commandant F. Pienaar, who took my place, had soon to resign on account
of some rather serious irregularities. My younger brother, W. J.
Viljoen, who, at the time of writing, is, I believe, still in this
position, replaced him.

At the end of June my commandos marched (p. 169) from Balmoral to near
Donkerhoek in order to get in touch with the British. Only a few outpost
skirmishes took place.

My burghers captured half a score of Australians near Van der Merwe
Station, and three days afterwards three Johannesburgers were surprised
near Pienaarspoort. As far as our information went the Donkerhoek Kopjes
were in possession of General Pole-Carew, and on our left General
Hutton, with a strong mounted force, was operating near Zwavelpoort and
Tigerspoort. We had some sharp fighting with this force for a couple of
days, and had to call in reinforcements from the Middelburg and Boksburg
commandos.

The fighting line by this time had widely extended and was at least
sixty miles in length; on my right I had General D. Erasmus with the
Pretoria commando, and farther still to the right, nearer the
Pietersburg railway, the Waterberg and Zoutpansberg commandos were
positioned. General Pole-Carew tried to rush us several times with his
cavalry, but had to retire each time. Commandant-General Botha finally
directed us to attack General Hutton’s (p. 170) position, and I
realised what this involved. It would be the first fight I had to direct
as a fighting general. Much would depend on the issue, and I fully
understood that my influence with, and my prestige among, the burghers
in the future was absolutely at stake.

General Hutton’s main force was encamped in a “donk” at the very top of
the randt, almost equidistant from Tigerspoort, Zwavelpoort and
Bapsfontein. Encircling his laager was another chain of “randten”
entirely occupied and fortified, and we soon realised what a large and
entrenched stretch of ground it was. The Commandant-General, accompanied
by the French, Dutch, American and Russian attachés, would follow the
attack from a high point and keep in touch with me by means of a
heliograph, thus enabling Botha to keep well posted about the course of
the battle, and to send instructions if required.

During the night of the 13th of July we marched in the following order:
On the right were the Johannesburg and Germiston commandos; in the
centre the Krugersdorp and the Johannesburg Police; and on the left
(p. 171) the Boksburg and Middelburg commandos. At daybreak I ordered a
general storming of the enemy’s entrenchments. I placed a Krupp gun and
a Creusot on the left flank, another Krupp and some pom-poms to the
right, while I had an English 15-pounder (an Armstrong) mounted in the
centre. Several positions were taken by storm with little or no
fighting. It was my right flank which met with the only stubborn
resistance from a strongly fortified point occupied by a company of
Australians.

Soon after this position was in our possession, and we had taken 32
prisoners, with a captain and a lieutenant. When Commandant Gravett had
taken the first trenches we were stubbornly opposed in a position
defended by the Irish Fusiliers, who were fighting with great
determination. Our burghers charged right into the trenches; and a
hand-to-hand combat ensued. The butt-ends of the guns were freely used,
and lumps of rock were thrown about. We made a few prisoners and took a
pom-pom, which, to my deep regret, on reinforcements with (p. 172) guns
coming up to the enemy, we had to abandon, with a loss of five men.
Meanwhile, the Krugersdorpers and Johannesburg Police had succeeded in
occupying other positions and making several prisoners, while half a
dozen dead and wounded were left on the field.

The ground was so exposed that my left wing could not storm the enemy’s
main force, especially as his outposts had noticed our march before
sunrise and had brought up a battery of guns, and in this flat field a
charge would have cost too many lives.

We landed several shells into the enemy’s laager, and if we had been
able to get nearer he would certainly have been compelled to run.

When darkness supervened we retired to our base with a loss of two
killed and seven wounded; whereas 45 prisoners and 20 horses with
saddles and accoutrements were evidence that we had inflicted a severe
loss upon the enemy. So far as I know, the Commandant-General was
satisfied with my work. On the day after the fight I met an attaché. He
(p. 173) spoke in French, of which language I know nothing. My Gallic
friend then tried to get on in English, and congratulated me in the
following terms with the result of the fight: “I congratuly very much
you, le Général; we think you good man of war.” It was the first time I
had bulked in anyone’s opinion as largely as a battleship; but I suppose
his intentions were good enough.

A few days afterwards Lord Roberts sent a hundred women and children
down the line to Van der Merwe Station, despite Botha’s vehement
protests. It fell to my lot to receive these unfortunates, and to send
them on by rail to Barberton, where they could find a home. I shall not
go into a question which is still sub judice; nor is it my present
purpose to discuss the fairness and unfairness of the war methods
employed against us. I leave that to abler men. I shall only add that
these waifs were in a pitiful position, as they had been driven from
their homes and stripped of pretty nearly everything they possessed.

Towards the end of July Carrington marched his force to Rustenburg, and
thence past (p. 174) Wonderboompoort, while another force proceeded
from Olifantsfontein in the direction of Witbank Station. We were,
therefore, threatened on both sides and obliged to fall back on
Machadodorp.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 175) CHAPTER XVIII.

OUR CAMP BURNED OUT.

The beginning of August saw my commandos falling back on Machadodorp.
Those of Erasmus and Grobler remained where they were for the time
being, until the latter was discharged for some reason or other and
replaced by Attorney Beyers. General Erasmus suffered rather worse, for
he was deprived of his rank as a general and reduced to the level of a
commandant on account of want of activity.

Our retreat to Machadodorp was very much like previous experiences of
the kind; we were continually expecting to be cut off from the railway
by flanking movements and this we had to prevent because we had placed
one of our big guns on the rails in an armour-clad railway carriage. The
enemy took care to keep out of rifle range, and the big gun (p. 176)
was an element of strength we could ill afford to lose. Besides, our
Government were now moving about on the railway line near Machadodorp,
and we had to check the enemy at all hazards from stealing a march on
us. Both at Witbank Station and near Middelburg and Pan Stations we had
skirmishes, but not important enough to describe in detail.

After several unsuccessful attempts, the Boer Artillery at last managed
to fire the big gun without a platform. It was tedious work, however, as
“Long Tom” was exceedingly heavy, and it usually took twenty men to
serve it. The mouth was raised from the “kastion” by means of a pulley,
and the former taken away; then and not till then could the gunner
properly get the range. The carriage vacuum sucking apparatus had to be
well fixed in hard ground to prevent recoil.

The enemy repeatedly sent a mounted squad to try and take this gun, and
then there was hard fighting.

Fight With General Hutton at Olifantsfontein.

One day while we were manœuvring with the “Long Tom,” the veldt burst
into flames, (p. 177) and the wind swept them along in our direction
like lightning. Near the gun were some loads of shells and gunpowder,
and we had to set all hands at work to save them. While we were doing
this the enemy fired two pom-poms at us from about 3,000 yards, vastly
to our inconvenience.

As my commando formed a sort of centre for the remainder,
Commandant-General Botha was, as a rule, in our immediate neighbourhood,
which made my task much easier, our generalissimo taking the command in
person on several occasions, if required, and assisting in every
possible way.

The enemy pursued us right up to Wonderfontein Station (the first
station south-west of Belfast), about 15 miles from Dalmanutha or
Bergendal, and waited there for Buller’s army to arrive from the Natal
frontier.

We occupied the “randten” between Belfast and Machadodorp, and waited
events. While we were resting there Lord Roberts sent us 250 families
from Pretoria and Johannesburg in open trucks, notwithstanding the
bitterly cold weather and the continual gusts of wind (p. 178) and
snow. One can picture to oneself the deplorable condition we found these
women and children in.

But, with all this misery, we still found them full of enthusiasm,
especially when the trucks in which they had to be sent on down the line
were covered with Transvaal and Free State flags. They sang our National
Anthem as if they had not a care in the world.

Many burghers found their families amongst these exiles, and some
heartrending scenes were witnessed. Luckily the railway to Barberton was
still in our possession, and at Belfast the families were taken over
from the British authorities, to be sent to Barberton direct. While this
was being done near Belfast under my direction, the unpleasant news came
that our camp was entirely destroyed by a grass fire.

The Commandant-General and myself had set up our camp near Dalmanutha
Station. It consisted of twelve tents and six carts. This was Botha’s
headquarters, as well as of his staff and mine. When we came to the spot
that night we found everything burned save (p. 179) the iron tyres of
the waggon wheels, so that the clothes we had on were all we had left
us. All my notes had perished, as well as other documents of value. I
was thus deprived of the few indispensable things which had remained to
me, for at Elandslaagte my “kit” had also fallen into the hands of the
British. The grass had been set on fire by a kaffir to the windward of
the camp. The wind had turned everything into a sea of fire in less than
no time, and the attempts at stamping out the flames had been of no
avail. One man gave us a cart, another a tent; and the harbour at
Delagoa Bay being still open (although the Portuguese had become far
from friendly towards us after the recent British victories) we managed
to get the more urgent things we wanted. Within a few days we had
established a sort of small camp near to headquarters.

We had plenty to do at this time—building fortresses and digging
trenches for the guns. This of course ought to have been done when we
were still at Donkerhoek by officers the (p. 180) Commandant-General
had sent to Machadodorp for the purpose. We had made forts for our “Long
Toms,” which were so well hidden from view behind a rand that the enemy
had not discovered them, although a tunnel would have been necessary in
order to enable us to use them in shelling the enemy. We were therefore
obliged to set to work again, and the old trenches were abandoned. The
holes may surprise our posterity, by the way, as a display of the
splendid architectural abilities of their ancestors.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 181) CHAPTER XIX.

BATTLE OF BERGENDAL (MACHADODORP).

Let us pass on to the 21st of August, 1900. Buller’s army had by this
time effected a junction with that of Lord Roberts’ between
Wonderfontein and Komati River. The commandos under Generals Piet
Viljoen and Joachim Fourie had now joined us, and taken up a position on
our left, from Rooikraal to Komati Bridge. The enemy’s numbers were
estimated at 60,000, with about 130 guns, including twelve 4·7 naval
guns, in addition to the necessary Maxims.

We had about 4,000 men at the most with six Maxims and about thirteen
guns of various sizes. Our extreme left was first attacked by the enemy
while they took possession of Belfast and Monument Hill, a little
eastward, thereby threatening the whole of our fighting (p. 182) lines.
My commandos were stationed to the right and left of the railway and
partly round Monument Hill. Fighting had been going on at intervals all
day long, between my burghers and the enemy’s outposts. The fighting on
our left wing lasted till late in the afternoon, when the enemy was
repulsed with heavy losses; while a company of infantry which had pushed
on too far during the fighting, through some misunderstanding or
something of that sort, were cut off and captured by the Bethel
burghers.

The attack was renewed the next morning, several positions being
assailed in turn, while an uninterrupted gunfire was kept up. General
Duller was commanding the enemy’s right flank and General French was in
charge of the left. We were able to resist all attacks and the battle
went on for six days without a decisive result. The enemy had tried to
break through nearly every weak point in our fighting line and found out
that the key to all our positions existed in a prominent “randje” to the
right of the railway. This point was being defended by our brave
Johannesburg (p. 183) police, while on the right were the
Krugersdorpers and Johannesburgers and to the left the burghers from
Germiston. Thus we had another “Spion Kop” fight for six long days. The
Boers held their ground with determination, and many charges were
repulsed by the burghers with great bravery. But the English were not to
be discouraged by the loss of many valiant soldiers and any failure to
dislodge the Boers from the “klip-kopjes.” They were admirably resolute;
but then they were backed up by a superior force of soldiers and
artillery.

On the morning of the 27th of August the enemy were obviously bent on
concentrating their main force on this “randje.” There were naval guns
shelling it from different directions, while batteries of field-pieces
pounded away incessantly. The “randje” was enveloped by a cloud of smoke
and dust. The British Infantry charged under cover of the guns, but the
Police and burghers made a brave resistance. The booming of cannon went
on without intermission, and the storming was repeated by regiment upon
regiment. Our (p. 184) gallant Lieutenant Pohlman was killed in this
action, and Commandant Philip Oosthuizen was wounded while fighting
manfully against overwhelming odds at the head of his burghers. An hour
before sunset the position fell into the hands of the enemy. Our loss
was heavy—two officers, 18 men killed or wounded, and 20 missing.

Thus ended one of the fiercest fights of the war. With the exception of
the battle of Vaalkrantz (on the Tugela) our commandos had been exposed
to the heaviest and most persistent bombardment they had yet
experienced. It was by directing an uninterrupted rifle fire from all
sides on the lost “randje” that we kept the enemy employed and prevented
them from pushing on any farther that evening.

At last came the final order for all to retire via Machadodorp.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 185) CHAPTER XX.

TWO THOUSAND BRITISH PRISONERS RELEASED.

After the battle of Bergendal there was another retreat. Our Government,
which had fled from Machadodorp to Waterval Station, had now reached
Nelspruit, three stations further down the line, still “attended,” shall
I say, by a group of Boer officials and members of the Volksraad, who
preferred the shelter of Mr. Kruger’s fugitive skirts to any active
fighting. There were also hovering about this party half a dozen Hebraic
persons of extremely questionable character, one of whom had secured a
contract for smuggling in clothes from Delagoa Bay; and another one to
supply coffee and sugar to the commandos. As a rule, some official or
other made a nice little commission out of these transactions, and many
burghers and officers expressed their displeasure and (p. 186) disgust
at these matters; but so it was, and so it remained. That same night we
marched from Machadodorp to Helvetia, where we halted while a commando
was appointed to guard the railway at Waterval Boven.

The next morning a big cloud of dust arose. “De Engelse kom” (the
English are coming) was the cry. And come they did, in overwhelming
numbers. We fired our cannon at their advance guard, which had already
passed Machadodorp: but the British main force stayed there for the day,
and a little outpost skirmishing of no consequence occurred.

A portion of the British forces appeared to go from Belfast via
Dullstroom to Lydenburg, these operations being only feebly resisted.
Our commandos were now parcelled out by the Commandant-General, who
followed a path over the Crocodile River bridge with his own section,
which was pursued by a strong force of Buller’s.

I was ordered to go down the mountain in charge of a number of Helvetia
burghers to try and reach the railway, which I was to defend at all
hazards. General Smuts, with (p. 187) the remnant of our men went
further south towards the road leading to Barberton. Early the next
morning we were attacked and again obliged to fall back. That night we
stayed at Nooitgedacht.

The Boer position at and near Nooitgedacht was unique. Here was a great
camp in which 2,000 English prisoners-of-war were confined, but in the
confusion the majority of their Boer guards had fled to Nelspruit. I
found only 15 burghers armed with Martini-Henry rifles left to look
after 2,000 prisoners. Save for “Tommy” being such a helpless individual
when he has nobody to give him orders and to think for him, these 2,000
men might have become a great source of danger to us had they had the
sense to disarm their fifteen custodians (and what was there to prevent
them doing so?) and to destroy the railway, they would have been able
not only to have deprived my commando of provisions and ammunition, but
also to have captured a “Long Tom.” There was, moreover, a large
quantity of victuals, rifles, and ammunition lying about the station, of
which nobody (p. 188) appeared to take any notice. Of the crowd of
officials who stuck so very faithfully to the fugitive Government there
was not one who took the trouble to look after these stores and
munitions.

On arrival I telegraphed to the Government to enquire what was to be
done with the British prisoners-of-war. The answer was: “You had better
let them be where they are until the enemy force you to evacuate, when
you will leave them plenty of food.”

This meant that there would be more D.S.O’s or V.C’s handed out, for the
first “Tommies” to arrive at the prisoners’ camp would be hailed as
deliverers, and half of them would be certain of distinctions.

I was also extremely dissatisfied with the way the prisoners had been
lodged, and so would any officer in our fighting line have been had he
seen their condition and accommodation. But those who have never been in
a fight and who had only performed the “heroic” duty of guarding
prisoners-of-war, did not know what humanity meant to an enemy who had
fallen into their hands.

(p. 189) So what was I to do?

To disobey the Government’s orders was impossible. I accordingly
resolved to notify the prisoners that, “for military reasons,” it would
be impossible to keep them in confinement any longer.

The next morning I mustered them outside the camp, and they were told
that they had ceased to be prisoners-of-war, at which they seemed to be
very much amazed. I was obliged to go and speak formally to some of
them; they could scarcely credit that they were free men and could go
back to their own people. It was really pleasant to hear them cheer, and
to see how pleased they were. A great crowd of them positively mobbed me
to shake hands with them, crying, “Thank you, sir; God bless you, sir.”
One of their senior officers was ordered to take charge of them, while a
white-flag message was sent to General Pole-Carew to send for these fine
fellows restored to freedom, and to despatch an ambulance for the sick
and wounded. My messenger, however, did not succeed in delivering the
letter, as the scouts of the (p. 190) British advance-guard were
exceedingly drunk, and shot at him; so that the prisoners-of-war had to
go out and introduce themselves. I believe they were compelled to
overpower their own scouts.

Ten days afterwards an English doctor and a lieutenant of the 17th
Lancers came to us, bringing a mule laden with medical appliances and
food. The English medico, Dr. Ailward, succeeded, moreover, in getting
through our lines without my express permission.

Next morning I accompanied an ambulance train to transport the wounded
British to the charge of the British agent at Delagoa Bay. Outside
Nooitgedacht I found four military doctors with a field ambulance.

“Does this officer belong to the Red Cross?” I asked.

“No,” was the answer, “he is only with us quite unofficially as a
sympathetic friend.”

“I regret,” said I, “that I cannot allow this thing; you have come
through our lines without my permission; this officer no doubt is a
spy.”

I wired at once for instructions, which, when (p. 191) received read:
“That as a protest against the action of the English officers who
stopped three of our ambulances, and since this officer has passed
through our lines without permission, you are to stop the ambulance and
dispatch the doctors and their staff, as well as the wounded to Lourenco
Marques.”

The doctors were very angry and protested vehemently against the order,
which, however, was irrevocable. And thus the whole party, including the
Lancers’ doctor, were sent to Lourenco Marques that very day. The
nearest English General was informed of the whole incident, and he sent
a very unpleasant message the next day, of which I remember the
following phrases:—

“The action which you have taken in this matter is contrary to the rules
of civilised warfare, and will alter entirely the conditions upon which
the War was carried on up to the present,” etc.

After I had sent my first note we found, on inspection, some Lee-Metford
cartridges and an unexploded bomb in the ambulance (p. 192) vans. This
fact alone would have justified the retention of the ambulance.

This was intimated again in our reply to General Pole-Carew, and I
wrote, inter alia: “Re the threat contained in your letter of the
… I may say I am sorry to find such a remark coming from your side,
and I can assure you that whatever may happen my Government,
commandants, and burghers are firmly resolved to continue the War on our
side in the same civilised and humane manner as it has hitherto been
conducted.”

This was the end of our correspondence in regard to this subject, and
nothing further happened, save that the English very shortly afterwards
recovered five out of the eight ambulances we had retained.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 193) CHAPTER XXI.

A GOVERNMENT IN FLIGHT.

About this time President Steyn arrived from the Orange Free State and
had joined President Kruger, and the plan of campaign for the future was
schemed. It was also decided that Mr. Schalk Burger should assume the
acting Presidentship, since Mr. Kruger’s advanced age and feeble health
did not permit his risking the hardships attendant on a warlike life on
the veldt.

It was decided Mr. Kruger should go to Europe and Messrs. Steyn and
Burger should move about with their respective commandos. They were
younger men and the railway, would soon have to be abandoned.

We spent the first weeks of September at Godwan River and Nooitgedacht
Station, near the Delagoa Bay railway, and had a fairly (p. 194) quiet
time of it. General Buller had meanwhile pushed on with his forces via
Lydenburg in the direction of Spitskop and the Sabi, on which General
Botha had been compelled to concentrate himself after falling back,
fighting steadily, while General French threatened Barberton.

I had expected Pole-Carew to force me off the railway line along which
we held some rather strong positions, and I intended to offer a stout
resistance. But the English general left me severely alone, went over
Dwaalheuvel by an abandoned wagon-track, and crossed the plateau of the
mountains, probably to try and cut us off through the pass near
Duivelskantoor. I tried hard, with the aid of 150 burghers, to thwart
his plans and we had some fighting. But the locality was against us, and
the enemy with their great force of infantry and with the help of their
guns forced us to retire.

About the 11th of September I was ordered to fall back along the
railway, via Duivelskantoor and Nelspruit Station, since General Buller
was threatening Nelspruit in the (p. 195) direction of Spitskop, while
General French, with a great force, was nearing Barberton. It appeared
extremely likely that we should be surrounded very soon. We marched
through the Godwan River and over the colossal mountain near
Duivelskantoor, destroying the railway bridges behind us. The road we
followed was swamped by the heavy rains and nearly impassable. Carts
were continually being upset, breakdowns were frequent, and our guns
often stuck in the swampy ground. To make matters worse, a burgher on
horseback arrived about midnight to tell us that Buller’s column had
taken Nelspruit Station, and cut off our means of retreat. Yet we had to
pass Nelspruit; there was no help for it. I gave instructions for the
waggons and carts (numbering over a hundred), to push on as quickly as
possible, and sent out a strong mounted advance guard to escort them.

I myself went out scouting with some burghers, for I wanted to find out
before daybreak whether Nelspruit was really in the hands of the enemy
or not. In that case our carts and guns would have to be destroyed or
(p. 196) hidden, while the commando would have to escape along the
footpaths. We crept up to the station, and just at dawn, when we were
only a hundred paces away from it, a great fire burst out, accompanied
by occasional loud reports. This somewhat reassured me. I soon found our
own people to be in possession burning things, and the detonations were
obviously not caused by the bursting of shells fired from field-pieces.
On sending two of my adjutants—Rokzak and Koos Nel—to the station to
obtain further details, they soon came back to report that there was
nobody there except a nervous old Dutchman. The burgher, who had told me
Nelspruit was in the hands of the enemy, must have dreamt it.

The conflagration I found was caused by a quantity of “kastions” and
ammunition-waggons which had been set afire on the previous day, while
the explosions emanated from the shells which had been left among their
contents.

The enemy’s advance guard had pushed on to Shamoham and Sapthorpe, about
12 miles from the railway, enabling the whole (p. 197) of my commando
to pass. We arrived at Nelspruit by eight o’clock. That day we rested
and discussed future operations, feeling that our prospects seemed to
grow worse every day.

The station presented a sad spectacle. Many trucks loaded with victuals,
engines, and burst gun-carriages—everything had been left behind at the
mercy of the first-comer, while a large number of kaffirs were
plundering and stealing. Only the day before the Government had had its
seat there, and how desolate and distressing the sight was now! The
traces of a fugitive Government were unmistakable. Whatever might have
been our optimism before, however little inclination the burghers might
have felt to surrender, however great the firmness of the officers, and
their resolve to keep the beloved “Vierkleur” flying, scenes like those
at Nooitgedacht, and again at Nelspruit, were enough to make even the
strongest and most energetic lose all courage. Many men could not keep
back their tears at the disastrous spectacle, as they thought of the
(p. 198) future of our country and of those who had been true to her to
the last.

Kaffirs, as I said, had been making sad havoc among the provisions,
clothes and ammunition, and I ordered them to be driven away. Amongst
the many railway-waggons I found some loaded with clothes the fighting
burghers had in vain and incessantly been asking for, also cannon and
cases of rifle ammunition. We also came across a great quantity of
things belonging to our famous medical commission, sweets, beverages,
etc. The suspicion which had existed for some considerable time against
this commission was, therefore, justified. There was even a carriage
which had been used by some of its members, beautifully decorated, with
every possible comfort and luxury, one compartment being filled with
bottles of champagne and valuable wines. My officers, who were no
saints, saw that our men were well provided for out of these. The
remainder of the good things was shifted on to a siding, where about
twenty engines were kept. By great good (p. 199) luck the Government
commissariat stock, consisting of some thousands of sheep, and even some
horses, had also been left behind. But we were not cheered.

Among the many questions asked regarding this sad state of affairs was
one put by an old burger:

“Dat is nou die plan, want zooals zaken hier lyk, dan heeft die boel in
wanhoop gevlug.” (“Is that the plan, then? For from what I can see of
it, they have all fled in despair.”)

I answered, “Perhaps they were frightened away, Oom.”

“Ja,” he said, “but look, General, it seems to me as if our members of
the Government do not intend to continue the war. You can see this by
the way they have now left everything behind for the second time.”

“No, old Oom,” I replied, “we should not take any notice of this. Our
people are wrestling among the waves of a stormy ocean; the gale is
strong, and the little boat seems upon the point of capsizing, but, it
has not gone down as yet. Now and then the boat is (p. 200) dashed
against the rocks and the splinters fly, but the faithful sailors never
lose heart. If they were to do that the dinghy would soon go under, and
the crew would disappear for ever. It would be the last page of their
history, and their children would be strangers in their own country. You
understand, Oom?”

“Yes, General, but I shall not forget to settle up, for I myself and
others with me have had enough of this, and the War has opened our
eyes.”

“All right, old man.” I rejoined, “nobody can prevent you surrendering,
but I have now plenty of work to do; so get along.”

My Talk with Erasmus (Non-Combatant).

Burghers of different commandos who had strayed—some on purpose—passed
us here in groups of two or ten or more. Some of them were going to
their own districts, right through the English lines, others were
looking for their cattle, which they had allowed to stray in order to
evade the enemy. I could only tell them that the veldt between Nelspruit
and Barberton up to Avoca, was, so far as I had been able to discover,
full of cattle and (p. 201) waggons belonging to farmers who now had
no chance of escaping. Everybody wanted some information from the
General.

About half a score of burghers with bridle horses then came up. There
was one old burgher among them with a long beard, a great veldt hat, and
armed with a Mauser which seemed hardly to have been used. He carried
two belts with a good stock of cartridges, a revolver, and a tamaai
(long sjambok). This veteran strode up in grand martial style to where I
was sitting having something to eat. As he approached he looked brave
enough to rout the whole British army.

“Dag!” (Good morning.) “Are you the General?” asked the old man.

“Yes, I have the honour of being called so. Are you a field-marshal, a
Texas Jack, or what?”

“My name is Erasmus, from the Pretoria district,” he replied, “and my
nine comrades and myself, with my family and cattle, have gone into the
bush. I saw them all running away, the Government and all. You are close
(p. 202) to the Portuguese border, and my mates and I want to know what
your plans are.”

“Well,” Mr. Erasmus, I returned, “what you say is almost true; but as
you say you and your comrades have been hiding in the bush with your
cattle and your wives, I should like to know if you have ever tried to
oppose the enemy yet, and also what is your right to speak like this.”

“Well, I had to flee with my cattle, for you have to live on that as
well as I.”

“Right,” said I; “what do you want, for I do not feel inclined to talk
any longer.”

“I want to know,” he replied, “if you intend to retire, and if there is
any chance of making peace. If not, we will go straight away to Buller,
and ‘hands-up,’ then we shall save all our property.”

“Well, my friend,” I remarked, “our Government and the
Commandant-General are the people who have to conclude peace, and it is
not for you or me, when our family and cattle are in danger, to
surrender to the enemy, which means turning traitor to your own people.”

(p. 203) “Well, yes; good-bye, General, we are moving on now.”

I sent a message to our outposts to watch these fellows, and to see if
they really were going over to the enemy. And, as it happened, that same
night my Boers came to camp with the Mausers and horses Erasmus and his
party had abandoned. They had gone over to Buller.

The above is but an instance illustrating what often came under my
notice during the latter period of my command. This sort of burgher, it
turned out, invariably belonged to a class that never meant to fight. In
many cases we could do better without them, for it was always these
people who wanted to know exactly what was “on the cards,” and whenever
things turned out unpleasantly, they only misled and discouraged others.
Obviously, we were better off without them.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 204) CHAPTER XXII.

AN IGNOMINIOUS DISPERSAL.

Commandant-General Botha, who was then invalided at Hector’s Spruit
Station, now sent word that we were to join him there without delay. He
said I could send part of the commando by train, but the railway
arrangements were now all disturbed, and everything was in a muddle. As
nothing could be relied on in the way of transport, the greater number
of the men and most of the draught beasts had to “trek.”

At Crocodile Gat Station the situation was no better than at Nelspruit,
and the same might be said of Kaapmuiden. Many of the engine drivers,
and many of the burghers even, who were helping in destroying the
barrels of spirits at the stations, were so excited (as they put it)
through the fumes of (p. 205) the drink, that the strangest things were
happening. Heavily-laden trains were going at the rate of 40 miles an
hour. A terrible collision had happened between two trains going in
different directions, several burghers and animals being killed.
Striplings were shooting from the trains at whatever game they saw, or
fancied they saw, along the line, and many mishaps resulted. These
things did not tend to improve matters.

It was not so much that the officers had lost control over their men. It
seemed as if the Evil Spirit had been let loose and was doing his very
best to encourage the people to riotous enjoyment.

Hector’s Spruit is the last station but one before you come to the
Portuguese frontier, and about seventeen miles from Ressano Garcia. Here
every commando stopped intending of course to push on to the north and
then to cross the mountains near Lydenburg in a westerly direction. The
day when I arrived at Hector’s Spruit, President Steyn, attended by an
escort of 100 men, went away by the same route. Meanwhile General Buller
(p. 206) was encamped at Glyn’s mines near Spitskop and the Sabi River,
which enabled him to command the mountain pass near Mac Mac and
Belvedere without the slightest trouble, and to block the roads along
which we meant to proceed. Although the late Commandant (afterwards
fighting General) Gravett occupied one of the passes with a small
commando, he was himself in constant danger of being cut off from
Lydenburg by a flank movement. On the 16th of September, 1900, an
incident occurred which is difficult to describe adequately. Hector
Spruit is one of the many unattractive stations along the Delegoa Bay
railway situated between the great Crocodile river and dreary black
“kopjes” or “randjes” with branches of the Cape mountains intervening
and the “Low Veldts,” better known as the “Boschveldt.” This is a
locality almost filled with black holly bushes, where you can only see
the sky overhead and the spot of ground you are standing on. In
September the “boschveldt” is usually dry and withered and the scorching
heat makes the surroundings seem more lugubrious and inhospitable than
ever.

(p. 207) The station was crowded with railway carriages loaded up with
all sorts of goods, and innumerable passenger carriages, and the
platform and adjoining places filled with agitated people. Some were
packing up, others unpacking, and some, again, were looting. The
majority were, however, wandering about aimlessly. They did not know
what was happening; what ought to be done or would be done; and the only
exceptions were the officers, who were busily engaged in providing
themselves and their burghers with provisions and ammunition.

I now had to perform one of the most unpleasant duties I have ever
known: that of calling the burghers together and telling them that those
who had no horses were to go by train to Komati Poort, there to join
General Jan Coetser. Those who had horses were to report themselves to
me the next morning, and get away with me through the low fields.

Some burghers exclaimed: “We are now thrown over, left in the ‘lurch,’
because we have not got horses; that is not fair.”

(p. 208) Others said they would be satisfied if I went with them, for
they did not know General Coetser.

Commandant-General Botha did not see his way to let me go to Komati
Poort, as he could not spare me and the other commandos. Those of the
men who had to walk the distance complained very bitterly, and their
complaints were well-founded. I did my best to persuade and pacify them
all, and some of them were crying like babies when we parted.

Komati Poort was, of course, the last station, and if the enemy were to
drive them any further they would have to cross the Portuguese border,
and to surrender to the Portuguese; or they could try to escape through
Swaziland (as several hundreds did afterwards) or along the Lebombo
mountains, via Leydsdorp. But if they took the latter route then they
might just as well have stayed with me in the first place. It was along
this road that General Coetser afterwards fled with a small body of
burghers, when the enemy, according to expectations, marched (p. 209)
on Komati Poort, and met with no resistance, though there were over 1800
there of our men with guns.

A certain Pienaar, who arrogated unto himself the rank of a general on
Portuguese territory, fled with 800 men over the frontier. These,
however, were disarmed and sent to Lisbon.

The end of the struggle was ignominious, as many a burgher had feared;
and to this day I pity the men who, at Hector’s Spruit, had to go to
Komati Poort much against their will.

Fortunately they had the time and presence of mind to blow up the “Long
Tom” and other guns before going; but a tremendous lot of provisions and
ammunition must have fallen into the hands of the enemy.

At Hector’s Spruit half a score of cannon of different calibre had been
blown up, and many things buried which may be found some day by our
progeny. Our carts were all ready loaded, and we were prepared to march
next morning into the desert and take leave of our stores. How would we
get on now? (p. 210) Where would we get our food, cut off as we were
from the railway, and, consequently, from all imports and supplies?
These questions and many others crossed our minds, but nobody could
answer them.

Our convoys were ready waiting, and the following morning we trekked
into the Hinterland Desert, saying farewell to commissariats and stores.

The prospect was melancholy enough. By leaving Hector’s Spruit we were
isolating ourselves from the outer world, which meant that Europe and
civilisation generally could only be informed of our doings through
English channels.

Once again our hopes were centred in our God and our Mausers.

Dr. Conan Doyle says about this stage of the war:—

“The most incredulous must have recognised as he looked at
the heap of splintered and shattered gunmetal (at Hector’s
Spruit) that the long War was at last drawing to a close.”

And here I am, writing these pages seventeen months later, and the War
is not over (p. 211) yet. But Dr. Doyle is not a prophet, and cannot be
reproached for a miscalculation of this character, for if I, and many
with me, had been asked at the time what we thought of the future, we
might have been as wide of the mark as Dr. Doyle himself.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 212) CHAPTER XXIII.

A DREARY TREK THROUGH FEVERLAND.

The 18th of September, 1900, found us trekking along an old disused road
in a northerly direction. We made a curious procession, an endless
retinue of carts, waggons, guns, mounted men, “voetgangers” nearly three
miles long. The Boers walking comprised 150 burghers without horses, who
refused to surrender to the Portuguese, and who had now joined the trek
on foot. Of the 1,500 mounted Boers 500 possessed horses which were in
such a parlous condition that they could not be ridden. The draught
cattle were mostly poor and weak, and the waggons carrying provisions
and ammunition, as also those conveying the guns, could only be urged
along with great difficulty. In the last few months our cattle and
horses had (p. 213) been worked hard nearly every day, and had to be
kept close to our positions.

During the season the veldt in the Transvaal is in the very worst
condition, and the animals are then poorer than at any other period. We
had, moreover, the very worst of luck, kept as we were in the coldest
parts of the country from June till September, and the rains had fallen
later than usual. There was, therefore, scarcely any food for the poor
creatures, and hardly any grass. The bushveldt through which we were now
trekking was scorched by an intolerable heat, aggravated by drought, and
the temperature in the daytime was so unbearable that we could only trek
during the night.

Water was very scarce, and most of the wells which, according to old
hunters with us, yielded splendid supplies, were found to be dried up.
The veldt being burned out there was not a blade of grass to be seen,
and we had great trouble in keeping our animals alive. From time to time
we came across itinerant kaffir tribes from whom we obtained handfuls of
salt or sugar, or a pailful (p. 214) of mealies, and by these means we
managed to save our cattle and horses.

When we had got through the Crocodile River the trek was arranged in a
sort of military formation enabling us to defend ourselves, had we been
attacked. The British were already in possession of the railway up to
Kaapmuiden and we had to be prepared for pursuit; and really pursuit by
the British seemed feasible and probable from along the Ohrigstad River
towards Olifant’s Nek and thence along the Olifant’s River.

Our original plan was to cross the Sabi, along the Meritsjani River,
over the mountains near Mac Mac, through Erasmus or Gowyn’s Pass and
across Pilgrim’s Rest, where we might speedily have reached healthier
veldt and better climatic conditions. President Steyn had passed there
three days previously, but when our advance guard reached the foot of
the high mountains, near Mac Mac, the late General Gravett sent word
that General Buller with his force was marching from Spitskop along the
mountain plateau and that it would be difficult for us to get ahead of
(p. 215) him and into the mountains. The road, which was washed away,
was very steep and difficult and contained abrupt deviations so that we
could only proceed at a snail’s pace.

Commandant-General Botha then sent instructions to me to take my
commando along the foot of the mountains, via Leydsdorp, while he with
his staff and the members of the Government would proceed across the
mountains near Mac Mac. General Gravett was detailed to keep Buller’s
advance guard busy, and he succeeded admirably.

I think it was here that the British lost a fine chance of making a
big haul. General Buller could have blocked us at any of the mountain
roads near Mac Mac, and could also have swooped down upon us near
Gowyn’s Pass and Belvedere. At the time of which I write Buller was
lying not 14 miles away at Spitskop. Two days after he actually
occupied the passes, but just too late to turn the two Governments and
the Commandant-General. It might be said that they could in any case
have, like myself, escaped along the foot of the mountains (p. 216)
via Leydsdorp to Tabina and Pietersburg, but had the way out been
blocked to them near Mac Mac, our Government and generalissimo would
have been compelled to trek for at least three weeks in the low veldt
before they could have reached Pietersburg, during which time all the
other commandos would have been out of touch with the chief Boer
military strategists and commanders, and would not have known what had
become of their military leaders or of their Government. This would
have been a very undesirable state of affairs, and would very likely
have borne the most serious consequences to us. The British, moreover,
could have occupied Pietersburg without much trouble by cutting off
our progress in the low veldt, and barring our way across the Sabini
and at Agatha. This coup could indeed have been effected by a small
British force. In the mountains they would, moreover, have found a
healthy climate, while we should have been left in the sickly
districts of the low veldt. And had we been compelled to stay there
for two months we would have (p. 217) been forced to surrender, for
about the middle of October the disease among our horses increased and
so serious was the epidemic that none but salted horses survived. The
enteric fever would also have wrought havoc amongst us.

Another problem was whether all this would not have put an end to the
war; we still had generals left, and strong commandos, and it was, of
course, very likely that a great number of Boers driven to desperation
would have broken through, although two-thirds of our horses were not
fit for a bold dash. Perhaps fifteen hundred out of the two thousand
Boers would have made good their escape, but in any case large numbers
of wagons, guns, etc. would have fallen into the British hands and our
leaders might have been captured as well. The moral effect would have
caused many other burghers from the other commandos to have lost heart
and this at a moment, too, when they already required much
encouragement.

This was my view of the situation, and I think Lord Roberts, or whoever
was responsible, lost a splendid opportunity.

(p. 218) As regards my commando at the foot of the Mauch Mountains we
turned right about and I took temporary leave of Louis Botha. It was a
very affecting parting; Botha pressed my hand, saying, “Farewell,
brother; I hope we shall get through all right. God bless you. Let me
hear from you soon and frequently.”

That night we encamped at Boschbokrand, where we found a store
unoccupied, and a house probably belonging to English refugees, for shop
and dwelling had been burgled and looted. After our big laager had been
arranged, Boer fashion, and the camp fire threw its lurid light against
the weird dark outline of the woods, the Boers grouped themselves over
the veldt. Some who had walked twenty miles that day fell down
exhausted.

I made the round of the laager, and I am bound to say that in spite of
the trying circumstances, my burghers were in fairly cheerful spirits.

I discussed the immediate prospects with the officers, and arranged for
a different commando to be placed in the advance guard each day and a
different field-cornet in the (p. 219) rear. Boers conversant with the
locality were detailed to ride ahead and to scout and reconnoitre for
water.

When I returned that night to my waggon the evening meal was ready, but
for the first time in my life I could eat nothing. I felt too dejected.
My cook, Jan Smith, and my messmates were curious to know the reason I
did not “wade in,” for they always admired my ferocious appetite.

It had been a tiring day, and I pretended I was not well; and soon
afterwards I lay down to rest.

I had been sitting up the previous evening till late in the night, and
was therefore in hopes of dropping off to sleep. But whatever I
tried—counting the stars, closing my eyes and doing my best to think of
nothing—it was all in vain.

Insurmountable difficulties presented themselves to me. I had ventured
into an unhealthy, deserted, and worst of all, unknown part of the
country with only 2,000 men. I was told we should have to cover 300
miles of this enteric-stricken country.

(p. 220) The burghers without horses were suffering terribly from the
killing heat, and many were attacked by typhoid and malarial fever
through having to drink a lot of bad water; these enemies would soon
decimate our commando and reduce its strength to a minimum. And for four
or five weeks we should be isolated from the Commandant-General and from
all white men.

Was I a coward, then, to lie there, dejected and even frightened? I
asked myself. Surely, to think nothing of taking part in a fierce
battle, to be able to see blood being shed like water, to play with life
and death, one could not be without some courage? And yet I did not seem
to have any pluck left in me here where there did not seem to be much
danger.

These and many similar thoughts came into my head while I was trying to
force myself to sleep, and I told myself not to waver, to keep a cool
head and a stout heart, and to manfully go on to the end in order to
reach the goal we had so long kept in view.

Ah, well, do not let anybody expect a (p. 221) general to be a hero,
and nothing else, at all times; let us remember that “A man’s a man for
a’ that,” and even a fighting man may have his moments of weakness and
fear.

The next morning, about four o’clock, our little force woke up again.
The cool morning air made it bearable for man and beast to trek. This,
however, only lasted till seven o’clock, when the sun was already
scorching, without the slightest sign of a breeze. It became most
oppressive, and we were scarcely able to breathe.

The road had not been used for twenty or thirty years, and big trees
were growing in our path, and had to be cut down at times. The dry
ground, now cut up by the horses’ hoofs, was turned into dust by the
many wheels, great clouds flying all round us, high up in the air,
covering everything and everybody with a thick layer of ashy-grey
powder.

About nine o’clock we reached Zand River, where we found some good
water, and stayed till dusk. We exchanged some mealies against salt and
other necessaries with some kaffirs (p. 222) who were living near by
the water. Their diminutive, deformed stature was another proof of the
miserable climate obtaining there.

There was much big game here; wild beasts, “hartebeest,” “rooiboks”
(sometimes in groups of from five to twenty at a time), and at night we
heard the roaring of lions and the howling of wolves. Even by day lions
were encountered. Now, one of the weakest points, perhaps the weakest,
of an Afrikander is his being unable to refrain from shooting when he
sees game, whether such be prohibited or not. From every commando
burghers had been sent out to do shooting for our commissariat, but a
good many had slipped away, so that hundreds of them were soon hunting
about in the thickly-grown woods. The consequence was that, whenever a
group of them discovered game, it seemed as if a real battle were going
on, several persons often being wounded, and many cattle killed. We made
rules and regulations, and even inflicted punishments which did some
good, but could not check the wild hunting instincts altogether, it
being (p. 223) difficult to find out in the dark bush who had been the
culprits.

Meanwhile the trek went on very slowly. On the seventh day we reached
Blyde River, where we had one of the loveliest views of the whole
“boschveldt.” The river, which has its source near Pilgrim’s Rest and
runs into the great Olifant’s River near the Lomboba, owes its name to
trekker pioneers, who, being out hunting in the good old times, had been
looking for water for days, and when nearly perishing from thirst, had
suddenly discovered this river, and called it Blyde (or “Glad”) River.
The stream at the spot we crossed is about 40 feet wide, and the water
as pure as crystal. The even bed is covered with white gravel, and along
both banks are splendid high trees. The whole laager could outspan under
their shade, and it was a delightful, refreshing sensation to find
oneself protected from the burning sun. We all drank of the delicious
water, which we had seldom found in such abundance, and we also availed
ourselves of it to bathe and wash our clothes.

(p. 224) In the afternoon a burgher, whose name I had better not
mention, came running up to us with his clothes torn to tatters, and his
hat and gun gone. He presented a curious picture. I heard the burghers
jeer and chaff him as he approached, and called out to him: “What on
earth have you been up to? It looks as if you had seen old Nick with a
mask on.”

The affrighted Boer’s dishevelled hair stood on end and he shook with
fear.

He gasped: “Goodness gracious, General, I am nearly dead. I had gone for
a stroll to do a bit of hunting like, and had shot a lion who ran away
into some brushwood. I knew the animal had received a mortal wound, and
ran after it. But I could only see a yard or so ahead through the thick
undergrowth, and was following the bloodstained track. Seeing the animal
I put down my gun and was stepping over the trunk of an old tree; but
just as I put my foot down, lo! I saw a terrible monster standing with
one paw on the beast’s chest. Oh, my eye! I thought my last hour had
come, for the lion looked (p. 225) so hard at me, and he roared so
awfully. By jove, General, if this had been an Englishman I should just
have “hands-upped,” you bet! But I veered round and went down bang on my
nose. My rifle, my hat, my all, I abandoned in that battle, and for all
the riches of England, I would not go back. General, you may punish me
for losing my rifle, but I won’t go back to that place for anything or
anybody.”

I asked him what the lion had done then, but he knew nothing more.
Another burgher who stood by, remarked: “I think it was a dog this chap
saw. He came running up to me so terrified that he would not have known
his own mother. If I had asked him at that moment he would not have been
able to remember his own name.”

The poor fellow was roused to indignation, and offered to go with the
whole commando and show them the lion’s trail. But there was no time for
that, and the hero had a bad time of it, for everybody was teasing and
chaffing him, and henceforth he was called the “Terror of the Vaal.”

(p. 226) We should have liked to have lingered a few days near that
splendid and wholesome stream. We wanted a rest badly enough, but it was
not advisable on account of the fever, which is almost invariably the
penalty for sleeping near a river in the low veldt. One of the
regulations of our commando forbade the officers and men to spend the
night by the side of any water or low spot. It would also have been
fatal to the horses, for sickness amongst them and fever always
coincide. But they did not always keep to the letter of these
instructions. The burghers, especially those who had been walking, or
arriving at a river, would always quickly undress and jump into the
water, after which some of them would fall asleep on the banks or have a
rest under the trees. Both were unhealthy and dangerous luxuries. Many
burghers who had been out hunting or had been sent out provisioning,
stayed by the riverside till the morning, since they could dispense with
their kit in this warm climate. They often were without food for
twenty-four hours, unless we happened to trek along the (p. 227) spot
where they were resting. To pass the night in these treacherous parts on
an empty stomach was enough to give anybody the fever.

When we moved on from Blyde River many draught beasts were exhausted
through want of food, and we were obliged to leave half a dozen carts
behind. This caused a lot of trouble as we had to transfer all the
things to other vehicles, and field-cornets did not like to take up the
goods belonging to other field-cornets’ burghers, the cattle being in
such a weak condition that it made every man think of his own division.
No doubt the burghers were very kind to their animals, but they
sometimes carried it too far, and the superior officers had often to
interfere.

The distance from Blyde River to the next stopping place could not be
covered in one day, and we should have no water the next; not a very
pleasant prospect. The great clouds of dust through which we were
marching overnight and the scorching heat in the daytime made us all
long for water to drink and to clean ourselves. So when the (p. 228)
order came from the laager commandants: “Outspan! No water to-day, my
boys, you will have to be careful with the water on the carts. We shall
be near some stream to-morrow evening,” they were bitterly disappointed.

When we got near the water the following day eight burghers were
reported to be suffering badly from the typhoid fever, five of them
belonging to the men who were walking. We had a very insufficient supply
of ambulance waggons. I had omitted to procure a great number of these
indispensable vehicles on leaving Hector’s Spruit, for there had been so
many things to look after. We were lucky to have with us brave Dr.
Manning, of the Russian Ambulance, who rendered us such excellent
assistance, and we have every reason to be thankful to H.M. the Czarina
of Russia for sending him out. Dr. Manning had the patients placed in
waggons, which had been put at his disposal for this purpose, but
notwithstanding his skilled and careful treatment, one of my men died
the following day, while the number of those who were seriously ill rose
to fifteen. The symptoms of this fatal illness are: (p. 229) headache
and a numb feeling in all the limbs, accompanied by an unusually high
temperature very often rising to 104 and 106 degrees during the first 24
hours, with the blood running from the patient’s nose and ears, which is
an ominous sign. At other times the first symptom is what is commonly
called “cold shivers.”

We proceeded slowly until we came to the Nagout River, where the
monotony and dreariness of a trek through the “boschveldt” were somewhat
relieved by the spectacle of a wide stream of good water, with a
luxurious vegetation along the banks. It was a most pleasant and
refreshing sight to behold. For some distance along the banks some grass
was found, to which the half-starved animals were soon devoting their
attention. It was the sort of sweet grass the hunters call
“buffalo-grass,” and which is considered splendid food for cattle. We
pitched our camp on a hill about one mile from the river, and as our
draught-beasts were in want of a thorough rest we remained there for a
few days. We had been obliged to drive along some hundreds of oxen,
mules, and horses, as they had been unfit to (p. 230) be harnessed for
days, and had several times been obliged to leave those behind that were
emaciated and exhausted.

From the Nagout River we had to go right up to the Olifant’s River, a
distance of about 20 miles, which took us three days. The track led all
along through the immense bush-plain which extends from the high Mauch
Mountains in the west to the Lebombo Mountains in the east; and yet one
could only see a few paces ahead during all these days, and the only
thing we could discern was the summit of some mountain on the westerly
or easterly horizon, and even the tops of the Mauch and Lebombo
Mountains one could only see by standing on the top of a loaded waggon,
and with the aid of a field-glass. This thickly-wooded region included
nearly one-third of the Transvaal, and is uninhabited, the white men
fearing the unhealthy climate, while only some miserable little kaffir
tribes were found about there, the bulk being the undisputed territory
of the wild animals.

The Olifant’s River, which we had to cross, is over 100 feet wide. The
old track leading (p. 231) down to it, was so thickly covered with
trees and undergrowth that we had to cut a path through it. The banks of
the river were not very high, thus enabling us to make a drift without
much trouble. The bed was rocky, and the water pretty shallow, and
towards the afternoon the whole commando had crossed. Here again we were
obliged to rest our cattle for a few days, during which we had to fulfil
the melancholy duty of burying two of our burghers who had died of
fever. It was a very sad loss and we were very much affected, especially
as one left a young wife and two little children, living at Barberton.
The other one was a young colonial Afrikander who had left his parents
in the Cradock district (Cape Colony) to fight for our cause. We could
not help thinking how intensely sad it was to lose one’s life on the
banks of this river, far from one’s home, from relatives and friends,
without a last grasp of the hand of those who were nearest and dearest.

The Transvaaler’s last words were:—

“Be sure to tell my wife I am dying cheerfully, (p. 232)
with a clear conscience; that I have given my life for the
welfare of my Fatherland.”

We had now to leave some draught cattle and horses behind every day, and
the number of those who were obliged to walk was continually increasing,
till there were several hundred.

Near Sabini, the first river we came to after leaving Leydsdorp we
secured twenty-four mules which were of very great use to us under the
circumstances. But the difficulty was how to distribute them amongst the
field-cornets. The men all said they wanted them very urgently, and at
once found the cattle belonging to each cart to be too thin and too weak
to move. Yet the twenty-four could only be put into two carts, and I had
to solve the difficulty by asserting my authority.

It was no easy task to get over the Agatha Mountains and we had to rest
for the day near the big Letaba, especially as we had to give the whole
file of carts, guns, etc., a chance of forming up again. Here we
succeeded in buying some loads of mealies, which were a (p. 233) real
God-send to our half-starved horses. I also managed to hire some teams
of oxen from Boers who had taken up a position with their cattle along
the Letaba, which enabled us to get our carts out of the Hartbosch
Mountains as far as practicable. The task would have been too fatiguing
for our cattle. It took us two days before we were out of these
mountains, when we camped out on the splendid “plateau” of the
Koutboschbergen, where the climate was wholesome and pleasant.

Here, after having passed a whole month in the wilderness of the low
veldt, with its destructive climate, it was as though we began a new
life, as if we had come back to civilisation. We again saw white men’s
dwellings, cultivated green fields, flocks of grazing sheep, and herds
of sleek cows.

The inhabitants of the country were not a little surprised, not to say
alarmed, to find, early one Sunday morning, a big laager occupying the
plateau. A Boer laager always looks twice as large as it really is when
seen from a little distance. Some Boer lads presently (p. 234) came up
to ask us whether we were friends or enemies, for in these distant parts
people were not kept informed of what happened elsewhere.

“A general,” said a woman, who paid us a visit in a trap, “is a thing we
have all been longing to see. I have called to hear some news, and
whether you would like to buy some oats; but I tell you straight I am
not going to take “blue-backs” (Government notes), and if you people buy
my oats you will have to pay in gold.”

A burgher answered her: “There is the General, under that cart; ‘tante’
had better go to him.”

Of course I had heard the whole conversation, but thought the woman had
been joking. The good lady came up to my cart, putting her cap a little
on one side, probably to favour us with a peep at her beauty.

“Good morning. Where is that General Viljoen; they say he is here?”

I thought to myself: “I wonder what this charming Delilah of fifty
summers wants,” and got up and shook hands with her, (p. 235) saying:
“I am that General. What can I do for ‘tante’?”

“No, but I never! Are you the General? You don’t look a bit like one; I
thought a General looked ‘baing’ (much) different from what you are
like.”

Much amused by all this I asked: “What’s the matter with me, then,
‘tante’?”

“Nay, but cousin (meaning myself) looks like a youngster. I have heard
so much of you, I expected to see an old man with a long beard.”

I had had enough of this comedy, and not feeling inclined to waste any
more civilities on this innocent daughter of Mother Eve, I asked her
about the oats.

I sent an adjutant to have a look at her stock and to buy what we
wanted, and the prim dame spared me the rest of her criticism.

We now heard that Pietersburg and Warmbad were still held by the Boers,
and the road was therefore clear. We marched from here via Haenertsburg,
a little village on the Houtboschbergrand, and the seat of some
officials of the Boer Mining Department, for (p. 236) in this
neighbourhood gold mines existed, which in time of peace give employment
to hundreds of miners.

Luckily, there was also a hospital at Haenertsburg, where we could leave
half a dozen fever patients, under the careful treatment of an Irish
doctor named Kavanagh, assisted by the tender care of a daughter of the
local justice of the peace, whose name, I am sorry to say, I have
forgotten.

About the 19th of October, 1900, we arrived at Pietersburg, our place of
destination.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 237) CHAPTER XXIV.

PAINS AND PLEASURES OF COMMANDEERING.

We found Pietersburg to be quite republican, all the officials, from
high to low, in their proper places in the offices, and the “Vierkleur”
flying from the Government buildings. The railway to Warmbad was also in
Boer hands. At Warmbad were General Beyers and his burghers and those of
the Waterberg district. Although we had no coals left, this did not
prevent us from running a train with a sufficient number of carriages
from Pietersburg to Warmbad twice a week. We used wood instead, this
being found in great quantities in this part of the country.

Of course, it took some time to get steam up, and we had to put in more
wood all the time, while the boilers continually threatened (p. 238) to
run dry. We only had two engines, one of which was mostly laid up for
repairs. The other one served to keep the commandos at Warmbad provided
with food, etc.

The Pietersburgers also had kept up telegraphic communication, and we
were delighted to hear that clothes and boots could be got in the town,
as we had to replace our own, which had got dreadfully torn and worn out
on the “trek” through the “boschveldt.” Each commandant did his best to
get the necessary things together for his burghers, and my quarters were
the centre of great activity from the early morning to late in the
evening, persons who had had their goods commandeered applying to the
General and lodging complaints.

After we had been at Pietersburg for eight days, a delay which seemed so
many months to me, I had really had too much of it. The complaints were
generally introduced by remarks about how much the complainants’
ancestors had done for the country at Boomplaats, Majuba, etc., etc.,
and how unfairly they were now being treated by having their only
(p. 239) horses, or mules, or their carriages, or saddles commandeered.

The worst of it was, that they all had to be coaxed, either with a long
sermon, pointing out to them what an honour and distinction it was to be
thus selected to do their duty to their country and their people, or by
giving them money if no appeal to their generous feelings would avail;
sometimes by using strong language to the timid ones, telling them it
would have to be, whether they liked it or not.

Anyhow we got a hundred fine horses together at the cost of a good many
imprecations. The complainants may be divided into the following
categories:—

1st. Those who really believed they had some cause of complaint.

2nd. Those who did not feel inclined to part with anything without
receiving the full value in cash—whose patriotism began and ended with
money.

3rd. Those who had Anglophile tendencies and thought it an abomination
to part with anything to a commando (these were the worst to deal with,
for they wore a mask, and (p. 240) we often did not know whether we had
got hold of the Evil One’s tail or an angel’s pinions), and

4th. Those who were complaining without reason. These were, as a rule,
burghers who did not care to fight, and who remained at home under all
sorts of pretexts.

The complaints from females consisted of three classes:—

1st. The patriotic ones who did all they could—sensible ladies as they
were—to help us and to encourage our burghers, but who wanted the
things we had commandeered for their own use.

2nd. The women without any national sympathy—a tiresome species, who
forget their sex, and burst into vituperation if they could not get
their way; and

3rd. The women with English sympathies, carefully hidden behind a mask
of pro-Boer expressions.

The pity of it was that you could not see it written on their foreheads
which category they belonged to, and although one could soon find out
what their ideas were, one had to be (p. 241) careful in expressing a
decided opinion about them, as there was a risk of being prosecuted for
libel.

I myself always preferred an outspoken complaint. I could always cut up
roughly refer him to martial law, and gruffly answer, “It will have to
be like this, or you will have to do it!” And if that did not satisfy
him I had him sent away. But the most difficult case was when the
complaint was stammered under a copious flood of tears, although not
supported by any arguments worth listening to.

There were a good many foreign subjects at Pietersburg but they were
mostly British, and these persons, who also had some of their horses,
etc., commandeered, were a great source of trouble, for many Boer
officers and burghers treated them without any ceremony, simply taking
away what they wanted for their commandos. I did not at all agree with
this way of doing things, for so long as a foreign subject, though an
Englishman, is allowed to remain within the fighting lines, he has a
right to protection and fairness, and no difference ought to be made
between him (p. 242) and the burghers who stay at home, when there is
any fighting to be done.

From Pietersburg we went to Nylstroom, a village on the railway to which
I had been summoned by telegram by the Commandant-General, who had
arrived there on his way to the westerly districts, this being the first
I had heard of him after we had parted at the foot of the Mauchberg,
near Mac Mac.

I travelled by rail, accompanied by one of my commandants. The way they
managed to keep up steam was delightfully primitive. We did not, indeed,
fly along the rails, yet we very often went at the rate of nine miles an
hour!

When our supply of wood got exhausted, we would just stop the train, or
the train would stop itself, and the passengers were politely requested
to get out and take a hand at cutting down trees and carrying wood. This
had a delicious flavour of the old time stage coach about it, when
first, second, and third class passengers travelled in the same
compartment, although the prices (p. 243) of the different classes
varied considerably. When a coach came to the foot of a mountain the
travellers would, however, soon find out where the difference between
the classes lay, for the driver would order all first-class passengers
to keep their seats, second-class passengers to get out and walk, and
third-class passengers to get out and push.

We got to our destination, however, although the chances seemed to have
been against it. I myself had laid any odds against ever arriving alive.

At Nylstroom we found President Steyn and suite, who had just arrived,
causing a great stir in this sleepy little village, which had now become
a frontier village of the territory in which we still held sway.

A great popular meeting was held, which President Steyn opened with a
manly speech, followed by a no less stirring one from our
Commandant-General, both exhorting the burghers to do their duty towards
their country and towards themselves by remaining faithful to the Cause,
as the very existence of our nation depended on it.

(p. 244) In the afternoon the officers met in an empty hall of the hotel
at Nylstroom to hold a Council of War, under the direction of the
Commandant-General.

Plans were discussed and arrangements made for the future. I was to
march at once from Pietersburg to the north-westerly part of the
Pretoria district, and on to Witnek, which would bring us back to our
old battle-grounds. The state of the commandos, I was told, in those
parts was very sad. The commandant of the Boksburg Commando had
mysteriously fallen into the enemy’s hands, and with his treacherous
assistance nearly the whole commando had been captured as well. The
Pretoria Commando had nearly shared this melancholy fate.

That same night we travelled to Pietersburg. After we had passed
Yzerberg the train seemed to be going more and more slowly, till we came
to a dead stop. The engine had broken down, and all we could do was to
get out and walk the rest of the way. In a few hours’ time, to our great
joy, the second, and the only other train from Pietersburg there was,
came up.

(p. 245) After having convinced the engine-driver that he had to obey
the General’s orders, he complied with our request to take us to
Pietersburg, and at last, after a lot of trouble, we arrived the
following day. Our cattle and horses were now sufficiently rested and in
good condition. The commandos have been provided with the things they
most urgently needed, and ordered to be ready within two days.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 246) CHAPTER XXV.

PUNISHING THE PRO-BRITISH.

During the first days of November, 1900, we went from Pietersburg to
Witnek, about nineteen miles north of Bronkhorst Spruit, in the Pretoria
district. We had enjoyed a fortnight’s rest, which had especially
benefited our horses, and our circumstances were much more favourable in
every respect when we left Pietersburg than when we had entered it.

The Krugersdorp Commando had been sent to its own district, from
Pietersburg via Warmbad and Rustenburg, under Commandant Jan Kemp, in
order to be placed under General De la Rey’s command. Most of the
burghers preferred being always in their own districts, even though the
villages scattered about were in the enemy’s hands, the greater
(p. 247) part of the homesteads burnt down and the farms destroyed, and
nearly all the families had been placed in British Concentration Camps;
and if the commanding officers would not allow the burghers to go to
their own districts they would simply desert, one after the other, to
join the commando nearest their districts.

I do not think there is another nation so fondly attached to their home
and its neighbourhood, even though the houses be in ruins and the farms
destroyed. Still the Boer feels attracted to it, and when he has at last
succeeded in reaching it, you will often find him sit down
disconsolately among the ruins or wandering about in the vicinity.

It was better, therefore, to keep our men somewhere near their
districts, for even from a strategical point of view they were better
there, knowing every nook and cranny, which enabled them to find exactly
where to hide in case of danger. Even in the dark they were able to
tell, after scouting, which way the enemy would be coming. This
especially gave a commando the necessary self-reliance, which is of such
great importance in (p. 248) battle. It has also been found during the
latter part of the War to be easier for a burgher to get provisions in
his own district than in others, notwithstanding the destruction caused
by the enemy.

Commandant Muller, of the Boksburg Commando, one of those who were lucky
enough to escape the danger of being caught through the half-heartedness
of the previous commandant (Dirksen), and had taken his place, arrived
at Warmbad almost the same moment. He proceeded via Yzerberg and joined
us at Klipplaatdrift near Zebedelestad.

I had allowed a field-cornet’s company, consisting of Colonial
Afrikanders, to accompany President Steyn to the Orange Free State,
which meant a reduction of my force of 350 men, including the
Krugersdorpers. But the junction with the Boksburg burghers, numbering
about 200 men, somewhat made up for it.

We went along the Olifant’s River, by Israelskop and Crocodile Hill, to
the spot where the Eland’s River runs into the Olifant’s River, and
thence direct to Witnek through Giftspruit.

(p. 249) The grass, after the heavy rains, was in good condition and
yielded plenty of food for our quadrupeds. Strange to say, nothing worth
recording occurred during this “trek” of about 95 miles. About the
middle of November we camped near the “Albert” silver mines, south of
Witnek.

Commandant Erasmus was still in this part of the country with the
remainder of the Pretoria Commando. Divided into three or four smaller
groups, they watched in the neighbourhood of the railway, from
Donkerhoek till close to Wilgeriver Station, and whenever the enemy
moved out, the men on watch gave warning and all fled with their
families and cattle into the “boschveldt” along Witnek.

It was these tactics which enabled the British Press to state that the
Generals Plumer and Paget had a brilliant victory over Erasmus the
previous month; for, with the exception of a few abandoned carts at
Zusterhoek, they could certainly not have seen anything of Erasmus and
his commando except a cloud of dust on the road from Witnek to the
“boschveldt.”

(p. 250) I had instructions to reorganise the commandos in these regions
and to see that law and order were maintained. The reorganisation was a
difficult work, for the burghers were divided amongst themselves.

Some wanted a different commando, while others wanted to keep to
Erasmus, who was formerly general and who had been my superior, round
Ladysmith. He, one of the wealthiest and most influential burghers in
the Pretoria district, did not seem inclined to carry out my
instructions, and altogether he could not get accustomed to the altered
conditions. I did all I could in the matter, but, so far as the Pretoria
Commando was concerned, the result of my efforts was not very
satisfactory. Nor did the generals who tried the same thing after me get
on with the reorganisation while Erasmus remained in control as an
officer. A dangerous element, which he and his clique tolerated, was
formed by some families (Schalkwyk and others) who, after having
surrendered to the enemy, were allowed to remain on their holdings, with
their cattle, and to go on farming as if nothing had happened. (p. 251)
They generally lived near the railway between our sentry stations and
those of the enemy. These “voluntarily disarmed ones,” as we called
them, had got passes from the enemy, allowing them free access to the
British camps, and in accordance with one of Lord Roberts’
proclamations, their duty, on seeing any Boers or commandos, was, to
notify this at once to the nearest English picket, and also to
communicate all information received about the Boers. All this was on
penalty of having their houses burnt down and their cattle and property
confiscated. Sometimes a brother or other relative of these
“hands-uppers” would call on them. The son of one of them was adjutant
to Commandant Erasmus, and shared his tent with him, while the adjutant
often visited his parents during the night and sometimes by day; the
consequence being that the English always knew exactly what was going on
in our district. This situation could not be allowed to go on, and I
instructed one of my officers to have all these suspected families
placed behind our commandos. Any male persons who had (p. 252)
surrendered to the enemy out of cowardice were arrested.

Most of them were court-martialled for high treason and desertion, and
giving up their arms, and fifteen were imprisoned in a school building
at Rhenosterkop, which had been turned into a gaol for the purpose. The
court consisted of a presiding officer selected from the commandants by
the General, and of four members, two of whom had been chosen by the
General and the President, and two by the burghers.

In the absence of our “Staats-procureur,” a lawyer was appointed public
prosecutor.

Before the trial commenced the President was sworn by the General and
the other four members by the President. The usual criminal procedure
was followed, and each sentence was submitted for the General’s
ratification.

The court could decree capital punishment, in which case there could be
an appeal to the Government.

There were other courts, constituted by the latter, but as they were
moving about (p. 253) almost every day, they were not always available,
and recourse had then to be taken to the court-martial.

The fifteen prisoners were tried in Rhenosterkop churchyard. The trial
lasted several days, and I do not remember all the particulars of the
various sentences, which differed from two and a half to five years’
imprisonment, I believe with the option of a fine. The only prison we
could send them to was at Pietersburg, and there they went.

The arresting and punishing of these people caused a great sensation in
the different commandos.

It seems incredible, but it is a fact that many members of these
traitors’ families were very indignant about my action in the matter,
even sending me anonymous letters in which they threatened to shoot me.

Although there was less treason after the conviction of these fifteen
worthies had taken place, there always remained an easy channel in the
shape of correspondence between burghers from the commandos and their
relatives within the English fighting lines, (p. 254) carried by kaffir
runners. This could not be stopped so easily.

On the 19th of November, 1900, I attacked the enemy on the railway
simultaneously at Balmoral and Wilgeriver, and soon found that the
British had heard of our plan beforehand.

Commandant Muller, who was cautiously creeping up to the enemy at
Wilgeriver with some of his burghers, and a Krupp gun, met with a
determined resistance early in the morning. He succeeded, indeed, in
taking a few small forts, but the station was too strongly fortified,
and the enemy used two 15-pounders in one of the forts with such
precision as to soon hit our Krupp gun, which had to be cleared out of
the fighting line.

The burghers, who had taken the small forts in the early morning, were
obliged to stop there till they could get away under protection of the
darkness, with three men wounded. We did not find out the enemy’s
losses.

We were equally unfortunate near Balmoral Station, where I personally
led the attack.

At daybreak I ordered a fortress to be stormed, expecting to capture a
gun, which (p. 255) would enable us to fire on the station from there,
and then storm it. In fact we occupied the fort with little trouble,
taking a captain and 32 men prisoners, besides inflicting a loss of
several killed and wounded, while a score more escaped. These all
belonged to the “Buffs,” the same regiment which now takes part in
watching us at St. Helena. But, on the whole, we were disappointed, not
finding a gun in the fort, which was situated to the west of the
station. Two divisions of burghers with a 15-pounder and a pom-pom were
approaching the station from north and east, while a commando, under
Field-Cornet Duvenhage, which had been called upon to strengthen the
attack, was to occupy an important position in the south before the
enemy could take it up, for during the night it was still unoccupied.

Our 15-pounder, one of the guns we had captured from the English, fired
six shells on the enemy at the station, when it burst, while the pom-pom
after having sent some bombs through the station buildings, also jammed.
We tried to storm over the bare (p. 256) ground between our position
and the strongly barricaded and fortified station, and the enemy would
no doubt have been forced to surrender if they had not realised that
something had gone wrong with us, our guns being silent, and
Field-Cornet Duvenhage and his burghers not turning up from the south.
The British, who had taken an important position from which they could
cover us with their fire, sent us some lyddite shells from a howitzer in
the station fort. Although there was a good shower of them, yet the
lyddite-squirt sent the shells at such a slow pace, that we could
quietly watch them coming and get under cover in time and therefore they
did very little harm.

At eight o’clock we were forced to fall back, for although we had
destroyed the railway and telegraphic communications in several places
over night, the latter were repaired in the afternoon, and the enemy’s
reinforcements poured in from Pretoria as well as from Middelburg. I
observed all this through my glass from the position I had taken up on a
high point near the Douglas coal mines.

(p. 257) Amongst the prisoners we had made in the morning was a captain
of the “Buffs,” whose collar stars had been stripped off for some
reason, the marks showing they had only recently been removed. At that
time there were no orders to keep officers as prisoners-of-war, and this
captain was therefore sent back to Balmoral with the other “Tommies,”
after we had relieved them of their weapons and other things which we
were in want of. I read afterwards, in an English newspaper, that this
captain had taken the stars off in order to save himself from the
“cruelties of the Boers.”

This, I considered, an unjust and undeserved libel.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 258) CHAPTER XXVI.

BATTLE OF RHENOSTERKOP.

On the 27th of November, 1900, our scouts reported that a force of the
enemy was marching from the direction of Pretoria, and proceeding along
Zustershoek. I sent out Commandant Muller with a strong patrol, while I
placed the laager in a safe position, in the ridge of kopjes running
from Rhenosterkop some miles to the north. This is the place, about 15
miles to the north-east of Bronkhorst Spruit, where Colonel Anstruther
with the 94th regiment was attacked in 1881 by the Boers and thoroughly
defeated. Rhenosterkop is a splendid position, rising several hundred
feet above the neighbouring heights, and can be seen from a great
distance. Towards the south and south-east this kopje is cut off from
the Kliprandts (p. 259) (known by the name of Suikerboschplaats) by a
deep circular cleft called Rhenosterpoort.

On the opposite side of this cleft the so-called “banks” form a
“plateau” about the same height as the Rhenosterkop, with some smaller
plateaux, at a lesser altitude, towards the Wilge River. These plateaux
form a crescent running from south-east to north of the Rhenosterkop.
Only one road leading out of the “bank” near Blackwood Camp and crossing
them near Goun, gives access to this crescent. On the west side is a
great gap up to Zustershoek, only interrupted by some “randjes,” or
ridges, near the Albert silver mines and the row of kopjes on which I
had now taken up a position.

The enemy’s force had been estimated at 5,000 men, mostly mounted, who,
quite against their usual tactics, charged us so soon as they noticed
us. Muller had to fall back again and again. The enemy under General
Paget, pursued us as if we were a lot of game, and it soon became
apparent that they had made up their mind to catch us this time. I sent
our carts into the forest along Poortjesnek to (p. 260) Roodelaager,
and made a stand in the kopjes near Rhenosterkop.

On the 28th—the next day—General Paget pitched his camp near our
positions, shelling us with some batteries of field guns till dusk. The
same evening I received information that a force under General Lyttelton
had marched from Middelburg and arrived near Blackwood Camp. This meant
that our way near Gourjsberg had been cut off. All we could do was to
keep the road along Poortjesnek well defended, for if the enemy were to
succeed in blocking that as well, we would be in a trap and be entirely
cut up.

There was General Paget against us to the west, to the south there was
Rhenosterkop with no way out, and General Lyttelton to the east, while
to the north there was only one road, running between high chains and
deep clefts. If General Paget were to make a flanking movement
threatening the road to the north, I should have been obliged to retire
in hot haste, but we were in hopes the General would not think of this.
General Lyttelton only needed to advance another mile, (p. 261) right
up to the first “randts” of the mountain near Blackwood Camp, for his
guns to command our whole position, and to make it impossible for us to
hold it. I had, however, a field-cornet’s company between him and my
burghers, with instructions to resist as long as possible, and to
prevent our being attacked from behind, which plan succeeded, as luck
would have it. My Krupp and pom-pom guns had been repaired, or rather,
patched up, though the former had only been fired fourteen times when it
was done up.

I placed the Johannesburgers on the left, the Police in the centre, and
the Boksburgers on the right. As I have already pointed out, these
positions were situated in a row of small kopjes strewn with big
“klips,” while the assailant would have to charge over a bare “bult,”
and we should not be able to see each other before they were at 60 to
150 paces distant.

Next morning, when the day dawned, the watchmen gave the alarm, the
warning we knew so well, “The Khakis are coming!” The horses were all
put out of range of the (p. 262) bullets behind the “randts.” I rode
about with my officers in front of our positions, thus being able to
overlook the whole ground, just at daybreak.

It gave me a turn when I suddenly saw the gigantic army of “Khakis”
right in front of us, slowly approaching, in grand formation, regiment
upon regiment, deploying systematically, in proper fighting order, and
my anxiety was mingled with admiration at the splendid discipline of the
adversary. This, then, was the first act in the bloody drama which would
be played for the next fifteen hours. The enemy came straight up to us,
and had obviously been carefully reconnoitring our positions.

General Paget seemed to have been spoiling for a fight, for it did not
look as if he simply meant to threaten our only outlet. His heavy
ordnance was in position near his camp, behind the soldiers, and was
firing at us over their heads, while some 15-pounders were divided
amongst the different regiments. The thought of being involved in such
an unequal struggle weighed heavily on my mind. (p. 263) Facing me were
from four to five thousand soldiers, well equipped, well disciplined,
backed up by a strong artillery; just behind me my men, 500 at the
outside, with some patched-up guns, almost too shaky for firing
purposes.

But I could rely on at least 90 per cent. of my burghers being splendid
shots, each man knowing how to economise his store of ammunition, while
their hearts beat warmly for the Cause they were fighting.

The battle was opened by our Krupp gun, from which they had orders to
fire the fourteen shells we had at our disposal, and then “run.” The
enemy’s heavy guns soon answered from the second ridge. When it was
broad daylight the enemy tried his first charge on the Johannesburg
position, over which my brother had the command, and approached in
skirmishing order. They charged right up to seventy paces, when our men
fired for the first time, so that we could not very well have missed our
aim at so short a distance, in addition to which the assailants’ outline
was just showing against (p. 264) the sky-line as he was going over the
last ridge. Only two volleys and all the Khakis were flat on the ground,
some dead, others wounded, while those who had not been hit were obliged
to lie down as flat as a pancake.

The enemy’s field-pieces were out of our sight behind the ridge which
the enemy had to pass in charging, and they went on firing without any
intermission. Half an hour later the position of the Johannesburg
Police, under the late Lieutenant D. Smith, was stormed again, this time
the British being assisted by two field-pieces which they had brought up
with them in the ranks and which were to be used as soon as the soldiers
were under fire. They came to within a hundred paces. One of these guns,
I think, I saw put up, but before they could get the range it had to be
removed into safety, for the attacking soldiers fared equally badly here
as on our left flank.

Then, after a little hesitation, they tried the attack on our right
flank again, when Commandant Muller and the Boksburgers and (p. 265)
some Pretoria burghers, under Field-Cornet Opperman held the position,
but with the same fatal result to the attackers. Our fifteen-pounder,
after having been fired a few times, had given out, while our pom-pom
could only be used from time to time after the artilleryman had righted
it.

I had a heliograph post near the left-hand position, one near the centre
and the one belonging to my staff on our extreme right. I remained near
this, expecting a flank movement by General Paget after his front
attacks had failed. From this coign of vantage I was able to overlook
the whole of the fighting ground, besides which I was in constant touch
with my officers, and could tell them all the enemy’s movements.

About 10 o’clock they charged again, and so far as I could see with a
fresh regiment. We allowed them to come up very closely again and once
more our deadly Mauser fire mowed them down, compelling those who went
scot-free to go down flat on the ground, while during this charge some
who had been obliged to drop down, now jumped up and (p. 266) ran away.
If I remember rightly, it was during this charge that a brave officer,
who had one of his legs smashed, leant on a gun or his sword, and kept
on giving his orders, cheering the soldiers and telling them to charge
on. While in this position, a second bullet struck him, and he fell
mortally wounded. We afterwards heard it was a certain Colonel Lloyd of
the West Riding Regiment. A few months after, on passing over this same
battlefield, we laid a wreath of flowers on his grave, with a card,
bearing the inscription: “In honour of a brave enemy.”

General Paget seemed resolved to take our positions, whatever the
sacrifice of human lives might be. If he succeeded at last, at this
rate, he might find half a score of wounded burghers and, if his cavalry
hurried up, perhaps a number of burghers with horses in bad condition,
but nothing more.

Whereas, if he had made a flanking movement, he might have attained his
end, perhaps without losing a single man.

Pride or stupidity must have induced him not to change his tactics.
Nothing daunted by (p. 267) the repeated failures in the morning, our
assailant charged again, now one position and then another, trying to
get their field-pieces in position, but each time without success. At
their wits’ end, the enemy tried another dodge, bringing his guns right
up to our position under cover of some Red Cross waggons. The officer
who perceived this, reported to me by heliograph, asking for
instructions. I answered: ‘If a Red Cross waggon enters the fighting
lines during the battle, it is there on its own responsibility.’
Besides, General Paget, under protection of the white flag, might have
asked any moment or an hour, or longer, to carry away his many
unfortunate wounded, who were lying between two fires in the burning
sun.

When the Red Cross waggon was found to be in the line of fire, it was
put right-about face, while some guns remained behind to fire shrapnel
at us from a short distance. They could only fire one or two shots, for
our burghers soon put out of action the artillerists who were serving
them. Towards the afternoon some of my burghers began to run (p. 268)
short of ammunition, I had a field-cornet’s force in reserve, from which
five to ten men were sent to the position from time to time, and this
cheered the burghers up again.

The same attacking tactics were persisted in by General Paget all day
long, although they were a complete failure. When the sun disappeared
behind the Magaliesbergs, the enemy made a final, in fact, a desperate
effort to take our positions, the guns booming along while we were
enveloped by clouds of dust thrown up by the shells.

The soldiers charged, brave as lions, and crept closer to our positions
than they had done during the day.

But it seemed as if Fate were favouring us, for our 15-pounder had just
got ready, sending his shells into the enemy’s lines in rapid
succession, and finding the range most beautifully. The pom-pom
too—which we could only get to fire one or two shells all day long,
owing to the gunner having to potter about for two or three hours after
each shot to try and repair it—to (p. 269) our great surprise suddenly
commenced booming away, and the two pieces—I was going to say the
“mysterious” pieces—poured a stream of murderous steel into the
assailants, which made them waver and then retire, leaving many comrades
behind.

On our side only two burghers were killed, while 22 were wounded. The
exact loss of the enemy was difficult to estimate. It must, however,
have amounted to some hundreds.

Again night spread a dark veil over one of the most bloody dramas of
this war. After the cessation of hostilities, I called my officers
together and considered our position. We had not lost an inch of ground
that day, while the enemy had gained nothing. On the contrary, they had
suffered a serious repulse at our hands. But our ammunition was getting
scarce, our waggons, with provisions, were 18 miles away. All we had in
our positions was mealies and raw meat, and the burghers had no chance
of cooking them. We therefore decided, as we had no particular interest
in keeping these positions, to fall back that night on Poortjesnek,
which was a “half-way house” (p. 270) between the place we were leaving
and our carts, from which we should be able to draw our provisions and
reserve ammunition.

We therefore allowed General Paget to occupy these positions without
more ado.

I have tried to describe this battle as minutely as possible in order to
show that incompetence of generals was not always on our side only.

I have seen from the report of the British Commander-in-Chief, published
in the newspapers, that this battle had been a most successful and
brilliant victory, gained by General Paget. People will say, perhaps,
that it was silly on my part to evacuate the positions, and that I
should have gone on defending them the next day. Well, in the old days
this would have been done by European generals, but no doubt they were
fighting under different circumstances. They were not faced by a force
ten times their own strength; not restricted to a limited quantity of
ammunition; nor were they in want of proper food or reinforcements. The
nearest Boer commando was at Warmbad, about 60 (p. 271) miles distant.
Besides, there was no necessity, either for military or strategical
reasons, for us to cling to these positions. It had already become our
policy to fight whenever we could, and to retire when we could not hold
on any longer. The Government had decided that the War should be
continued and it was the duty of every general to manœuvre so as to
prolong it. We had no reserve troops, so my motto was: “Kill as many of
the enemy as you possibly can, but see you do not expose your own men,
for we cannot spare a single one.”

On the 30th of November, the day after the fight, I was with a patrol on
the first “randts,” north-east of Rhenosterkop, just as the sun rose,
and had a splendid view of the whole battlefield of the previous day. I
saw the enemy’s scouts, cautiously approaching the evacuated positions,
and concluded from the precautions they were taking that they did not
know we had left overnight. Indeed, very shortly after I saw the Khakis
storming and occupying the kopjes. How great must have been their
astonishment (p. 272) and disappointment on finding those positions
deserted, for the possession of which they had shed so much blood. A
number of ambulance waggons were brought up and were moving backwards
and forwards on the battlefield, taking the wounded to the hospital
camp, which must have assumed colossal proportions. Ditches were seen to
be dug, in which the killed soldiers were buried. A troop of kaffirs
carried the bodies, as far as I could distinguish, and I could
distinctly see some heaps of khaki-coloured forms near the graves.

Battle of Rhenosterkop—How Colonel Lloyd died.

As the battlefield looked now, it was a sad spectacle. Death and
mutilation, sorrow and misery, were the traces yesterday’s fight had
left behind. How sad, I thought, that civilised nations should thus try
to annihilate one another. The repeated brave charges made by General
Paget’s soldiers, notwithstanding our deadly fire, had won our greatest
admiration for the enemy, and many a burgher sighed even during the
battle. What a pity such plucky fellows should have to be led
(p. 273) on to destruction like so many sheep to the butcher’s block!

Meanwhile, General Lyttelton’s columns had not got any nearer, and it
appeared to us that he had only made a display to confuse us, and with
the object of inducing us to flee in face of their overwhelming
strength.

On the 1st of December General Paget sent a strong mounted force to meet
us, and we had a short, sharp fight, without very great loss on either
side.

This column camped at Langkloof, near our positions, compelling us to
graze and water our horses at the bottom of the “neck” in the woods,
where horse-sickness was prevalent. We were, therefore, very soon
obliged to move.

About this time I received a report to the effect that a number of women
and children were wandering about near Rhenosterkop along the Wilge
River. Their houses had been burnt by order of General Paget, and we
were asked to protect these unfortunate people.

Some burghers offered to ride out at night (p. 274) time to try and
find them, and the next morning they brought several families into our
camp. The husbands of these poor sufferers were on duty in the
neighbourhood, so that they were now enabled to do the needful for their
wives and children. I put some questions to some of the women, from
which it appeared that although they had besought the English not to
burn their clothes and food, yet this had been done. Some Australians
and Canadians, who had been present, had done their best to save some of
the food and clothes, and these Colonials had shown them much
consideration in every respect, but, the women added, a gang of kaffirs,
who were ordered to cause this destruction, were behaving in the most
barbarous and cruel manner, and were under no control by the British
soldiers.

I felt bound to protest against these scandalous acts of vandalism, and
sent two of my adjutants to the English camp next day with a note of
about the following tenour:—

The two despatch carriers whom I sent to the British General under a
white flag were taken for spies, and however much they tried to
establish their identity, General Paget was not to be convinced, and had
them arrested, detaining them for three days. Their horses were used
every day by the English officers, which I consider far from
gentlemanly. On the third day my two adjutants were again taken before
the general, and cross-examined, but no evidence could be found against
their being bona-fide messengers. Paget told them (p. 276) that my
despatch was all nonsense, and did not give them the right to enter his
lines under the white flag, adding, while he handed them a letter
addressed to me:

“You can go now; tell your General that if he likes to fight I shall be
pleased to meet him at any time in the open. You have killed some of my
Red Cross people, but I know it was done by those ‘damned’ unscrupulous
Johannesburgers. Tell them I shall pay them for this!”

Before my adjutants left, a certain Captain —— said to one of them:

“I say, what do your people think of the fight?”

“Which fight do you mean?” asked the adjutant.

“The fight here,” returned the captain.

“Oh,” remarked the adjutant, “we think it was rather a mismanagement.”
To which the captain replied: “By Jove! you are not the only people who
think so.”

The contents of General Paget’s letter were short and rough; “The
responsibility for the suffering of women and children rests on the
(p. 277) shoulders of those who blindly continue the helpless
struggle,” etc., etc.

I may say here that this was the first time in this War the English
officers treated my despatch riders under the white flag in such a
manner, giving me at the same time such a discourteous answer.

No doubt we have had generals acting like this on our side, and I admit
that we did not always stand on etiquette.

As already stated, part of the enemy’s forces were camping out near
Poortjesnek, so close by that we had to shift our laager and commando to
a more healthy part on account of the horse-sickness. The enemy
installed a permanent occupation at Rhenosterkop, and we moved into the
Lydenberg district, where we knew we should find some wholesome “veldt”
on the Steenkamps Mountains. We went through the forest near Maleemskop
via Roodekraal, to the foot of Bothasberg, where we had a few weeks’
rest.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 278) CHAPTER XXVII.

THE SECOND CHRISTMAS AT WAR.

The veldt was in splendid condition at the foot of Bothasberg, where we
had pitched our camp. We found mealies and cattle left everywhere. The
enemy did not know where we really were, and could not, therefore,
bother us for the time being. Our Government was at Tautesberg, about 12
miles north of Bothasberg, and we received a visit from Acting-President
Burger, who brought with him the latest news from Europe, and the
reports from the other commandos. Mr. Burger said he was sorry we had to
leave the Pretoria district, but he could understand our horses would
have all been killed by the sickness if we had stopped at Poortjesnek.
As regards the Battle of (p. 279) Rhenosterkop, he expressed the
Government’s satisfaction with the result.

On the 16th of December we celebrated Dingaan’s Day in a solemn manner.
Pastor J. Louw, who had faithfully accompanied us during these fatiguing
months of retreats and adversity, delivered a most impressive address,
describing our position. Several officers also spoke, and I myself had a
go at it, although I kept to politics. In the afternoon the burghers had
sports, consisting of races on foot and on horseback. The prizes were
got together by means of small contributions from the officers. All went
well, without any mishaps, and it was unanimously voted to have been
very entertaining.

It was a peculiar sight—taking into consideration the circumstances—to
see these people on the “veldt” feasting and of good cheer, each trying
to amuse the other, under the fluttering “Vierkleur”—the only one we
possessed—but the look of which gladdened the hearts of many assisting
at this celebration in the wilderness. How could we have been in a truly
festive mood without (p. 280) the sight of that beloved banner, which
it had cost so many sacrifices to protect, and to save which so much
Afrikander blood had been shed.

And in many of us the thought suggested itself: “O, Vierkleur of our
Transvaal, how much longer shall we be allowed to see you unfurled? How
long, O Lord, will a stream of tears and blood have to flow before we
are again the undisputed masters of our little Republic, scarcely
visible on the world’s map? For how long will our adored Vierkleur be
allowed to remain floating over the heads of our persecuted nation,
whose blood has stained and soaked your colours for some generations? We
hope and trust that so sure as the sun shall rise in the east and set in
the west, so surely may this our flag, now wrapped in sorry mourning,
soon flutter aloft again in all its glory, over the country on which
Nature lavishes her most wondrous treasures.”

The Afrikander character may be called peculiar in many respects. In
moments of reverse, when the future seems dark, one can (p. 281) easily
trace its pessimistic tendencies. But once his comrades buried, the
wounded attended to, and a moment’s rest left him by the enemy, the
cheerful part of the Boer nature prevails, and he is full of fun and
sport. If anybody, in a sermon or in a speech, try to impress on him the
seriousness of the situation, pointing out how our ancestors have
suffered and how we have to follow in their steps, our hero of
yesterday, the jolly lad who was laughing boisterously and joking a
minute ago, is seen to melt, and the tears start in his eyes. I am now
referring to the true Afrikander. Of course, there are many calling
themselves Afrikanders who during this War have proved themselves to be
the scum of the nation. I wish to keep them distinguished from the true,
from the noble men belonging to this nationality of whom I shall be
proud as long as I live, no matter what the result of the War may be.

Our laagers were not in a very satisfactory position, more as regards
our safety than the question of health, sickness being expected to make
itself felt only later in the year.

We therefore decided to “trek” another 10 (p. 282) miles, to the east
of Witpoort, through Korfsnek, to the Steenkampsbergen, in order to
pitch or camp at Windhoek. Windhoek (wind-corner) was an appropriate
name, the breezes blowing there at times with unrelenting fury.

Here we celebrated Christmas of 1900, but we sorely missed the many
presents our friends and lady acquaintances sent us from Johannesburg on
the previous festival, and which had made last year’s Christmas on the
Tugela such a success.

No flour, sugar or coffee, no spirits or cigars to brighten up our
festive board. This sort of thing belonged to the luxuries which had
long ceased to come our way, and we had to look pleasant on
mealie-porridge and meat, varied by meat and mealie-porridge.

Yet many groups of burghers were seen to be amusing themselves at all
sorts of games; or you found a pastor leading divine service and
exhorting the burghers. Thus we kept our second Christmas in the field.

About this time the commandos from the Lydenburg district (where we now
were) as (p. 283) well as those from the northern part of Middelburg,
were placed under my command, and I was occupied for several days in
reorganising the new arrivals. The fact of the railway being almost
incessantly in the hands of the enemy, and the road from Machadodorp to
Lydenburg also blocked by them (the latter being occupied in several
places by large or small garrisons) compelled us to place a great number
of outposts to guard against continual attacks and to report whenever
some of the columns, which were always moving about, were approaching.

The spot where our laagers were now situated was only 13 miles from
Belfast and Bergendal, between which two places General Smith-Dorrien’s
strong force was posted; while a little distance behind Lydenburg was
General Walter Kitchener with an equally strong garrison. We were,
therefore, obliged to be continually on the alert, not relaxing our
watchfulness for one single moment. One or two burghers were still
deserting from time to time, aggravating their shameful behaviour by
informing the enemy of our movements, (p. 284) which often caused a
well-arranged plan to fail. We knew this was simply owing to these very
dangerous traitors.

The State Artillerymen, who had now been deprived of their guns, were
transformed into a mounted corps of 85 men, under Majors Wolmarans and
Pretorius, and placed under my command for the time being.

It was now time we should assume the offensive, before the enemy
attacked us. I therefore went out scouting for some days, with several
of my officers, in order to ascertain the enemy’s positions and to find
out their weakest spot. My task was getting too arduous, and I decided
to promote Commandant Muller to the rank of a fighting-general. He
turned out to be an active and reliable assistant.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 285) CHAPTER XXVIII.

CAPTURE OF “LADY ROBERTS.”

After I had carefully reconnoitred the enemy’s positions, I resolved,
after consulting my fighting-general, Muller, to attack the Helvetia
garrison, one of the enemy’s fortifications or camps between Lydenburg
and Machadodorp. Those fortifications served to protect the railway road
from Machadodorp Station to Lydenburg, along which their convoys went
twice a week to provision Lydenburg village. Helvetia is situated three
miles east of Machadodorp, four miles west of Watervalboven Station,
where a garrison was stationed, and about three miles south of a camp
near Zwartkoppies. It was only protected on the north side. Although it
was difficult to approach this side on account of a mountainous rand
through which the Crocodile (p. 286) River runs, yet this was the only
road to take. It led across Witrand or Bakenkop; the commandos were
therefore obliged to follow it, and had to do this at night time, for if
they had passed the Bakenkop by day they would have exposed themselves
to the enemy’s artillery fire from the Machadodorp and Zwartkoppies
garrisons.

During the night of the 28th of December 1900, we marched from Windhoek,
past Dullstroom, up to the neighbourhood of Bakenkop, where we halted
and divided the commandos for the attack, which was to be made in about
the following order:—

Fighting-General Muller was to trek with 150 men along the convoy-road
between Helvetia and Zwartkoppies up to Watervalboven, keeping his
movements concealed from the adversary. Commandant W. Viljoen (my
brother), would approach the northerly and southerly parts of Helvetia
within a few hundred paces, with part of the Johannesburgers and
Johannesburg Police. This commando numbered 200 men.

In order to be able to storm the different (p. 287) forts almost
simultaneously we were all to move at 3.30 a.m., and I gave the men a
password, in order to prevent confusion and the possibility of our
hitting one another in the general charge. There being several forts and
trenches to take the burghers were to shout “Hurrah!” as loudly as they
could in taking each fort, which would show us it was captured, and at
the same time encourage the others. Two of our most valiant
field-cornets, P. Myburgh and J. Cevonia, an Italian Afrikander, were
sent to the left, past Helvetia, with 120 men, to attack Zwartkoppies
the moment we were to storm Helvetia, while I kept in reserve the State
Artillerists and a field-cornet’s posse of Lydenburgers to the right of
the latter place, near Machadodorp, which would enable me to stop any
reinforcements sent to the other side from that place or from Belfast.
For if the British were to send any cavalry from there they would be
able to turn our rear, and by marching up as soon as they heard the
first report of firing at Helvetia, they would be in a position to cut
me up with the whole of (p. 288) my commando. I only suggest the
possibility of it, and cannot make out why it was not attempted. I can
only be thankful to the British officers for omitting to do this.

I had taken up a position, with some of my adjutants, between the
commandos as arranged, and stood waiting, watch in hand, for the moment
the first shot should be fired. My men all knew their places and their
duties, but unfortunately a heavy fog rose at about 2 o’clock, which
made the two field-cornets who were to attack the Zwartkoppies lose
their way and the chance of reaching their destination before daybreak.

I received the news of this failure at 3.20, i.e., ten minutes before
the appointed time of action. A bad beginning, I thought, and these last
ten minutes seemed many hours to me.

I struck a match every moment, under cover of my macintosh, to see if it
were yet half past three. Another minute and it would soon be decided
whether I should be the vanquished or the victor. How many burghers, who
were now marching so (p. 289) eagerly to charge the enemy in his
trenches, would be missed from our ranks to-morrow? It is these moments
of tension which make an officer’s hair turn grey. The relation between
our burgher and his officers is so entirely different from that which
exists between the British officer and his men or between these ranks
perhaps in any other standing army. We are all friends. The life of each
individual burgher in our army is highly valued by his officer and is
only sacrificed at the very highest price. We regret the loss of a
simple burgher as much as that of the highest in rank. And it was the
distress and worry of seeing these lives lost, which made me ponder
before the battle.

Suddenly one of my adjutants called out: “I hear some shouting. What may
this be?”

I threw my waterproof over my head and struck a match, then cried: “It
is time, my lads!” And in a few seconds a chain of fire flamed up round
the forts, immediately followed by the rattling and crackling of the
burghers’ Mausers. The enemy was not slow in returning our fire.

(p. 290) It is not easy to adequately render the impression a battle in
the dark makes. Each time a shot is fired you see a flash of fire
several yards long, and where about 500 or 600 rifles are being fired at
a short distance from you, it makes one think of a gigantic display of
fireworks.

Although it was still dusk, I could easily follow the course of the
fight. The defenders’ firing slackened in several places, to subside
entirely in others, while from the direction of the other reports and
flashes, our men were obviously closing up, drawing tighter the ring
round the enemy.

So far, according to my scouts, no stir had been made from Belfast,
which encouraged me to inform the officers that we were not being cut
off. At daybreak only a few shots were falling, and when the fog cleared
up I found Helvetia to be in our hands.

General Muller reported that his part of the attack had been
successfully accomplished, and that a 4·7 naval gun had been found in
the great fortress. I gave orders to fetch this gun out of the fort
without delay, to take (p. 291) away the prisoners we had made and as
much of the commissariat as we could manage to carry, and to burn the
remainder.

Towards the evening we were fired at by two guns at Zwartkoppies, making
it very difficult for us to get the provisions away.

A great quantity of rum and other spirits was found among the enemy’s
commissariat, and as soon as the British soldiers made prisoners were
disarmed, they ran up to it, filled their flasks, and drank so freely
that about thirty of them were soon unable to walk. Their bad example
was followed by several burghers, and many a man who had not been given
to drinking used this opportunity to imbibe a good quantity, making it
very difficult for us to keep things in order.

About 60 men of the garrison had been killed or wounded, and their
commanding officer had received some injuries, but fortunately there was
a doctor there who at once attended to these cases. On our side we had
five men killed and seven wounded—the brave Lieutenant Nortje and
Corporal J. Coetzee being amongst them.

(p. 292) A small fort, situated between the others, had been overlooked,
through a misunderstanding, and a score of soldiers who were garrisoning
it had been forgotten and omitted to be disarmed.

An undisciplined commando is not easily managed at times. It takes all
the officers’ tact and shrewdness to get all the captured goods—like
arms, ammunition, provisions, &c.—transported, especially when drink is
found in a captured camp.

When we discussed the victory afterwards, it became quite clear that our
tactics in storming the enemy’s positions on the east and south sides
had been pregnant of excellent results, for the English were not at all
prepared at these points, though they had been on their guard to the
north. In fact it had been very trying work to force them to surrender
there. The officer in command, who was subsequently discharged from the
British Army, had done his best, but he was wounded in the head at the
beginning of the fight, and so far as I could ascertain there had been
nobody to take his place. Three (p. 293) lieutenants were surprised in
their beds and made prisoners-of-war. In the big fort where we found the
naval gun, a captain of the garrison’s artillery was in command. This
fortress had been stormed, as already stated, from the side on which the
attack had not been expected and the captain had not had an opportunity
of firing many shots from his revolver, when he was wounded in the arm
and compelled to surrender to the burghers who rushed up. Two hundred
and fifty prisoners, including four officers, were made, the majority
belonging to the Liverpool regiment and the 18th regiment of Hussars.
They were all taken to our laager.

We succeeded in bringing away the captured gun in perfect order, also
some waggons. Unfortunately the cart with the projectiles or shell,
stuck in the morass and had to be left behind.

I gave orders to have a gun which we had left with the reserve burghers
at Bakenkop, brought up, to open fire on the two pieces which were
firing at us from Zwartkoppies, and to cover our movements while we were
(p. 294) taking away the prisoners-of-war and the captured stores. I
was in hopes of getting an opportunity of releasing the carts which
stuck. But Fate was against us. A heavy hailstorm accompanied by thunder
and lightning, fiercer than I have ever witnessed in South Africa
before, broke over our heads. Several times the lightning struck the
ground around us, and the weather became so alarming that the drunken
“Tommies” began to talk about their souls, and further efforts to save
the carts had to be abandoned.

Whoever may have been the officer in command at Zwartkoppies he really
deserved a D.S.O., which he obtained, too.

What that order really means I wot not, but I know that an English
soldier is quite prepared to risk his life to deserve one, and as the
decoration itself cannot be very expensive, it pays the British
Government to be very liberal with it. A Boer would be satisfied with
nothing less than promotion as a reward for heroism.

When the storm subsided we went on. It was a remarkable sight—a long
procession of (p. 295) “Tommies,” burghers, carts, and the naval gun,
18 feet long, an elephantine one when compared with our small guns.

It struck me again on this occasion what little bad feeling there was
really between Boer and Briton, and how they both fight simply to do
their duty as soldiers. As I rode along the stream of men I noticed
several groups of burghers and soldiers sitting together along the road,
eating from one tin of jam and dividing their loaf between them, and
drinking out of the same field flask.

I remember some snatches of conversation I overheard:—

And then as I passed them the whole group would salute very civilly.

We stopped at Dullstroom that night, where we found some lodgings for
the captured (p. 296) British officers. We were sorry one of the
Englishmen had not been given time to dress himself properly, for we had
a very scanty stock of clothes, and it was difficult to find him some.

The next morning I found half a dozen prisoners-of-war had sustained
slight flesh wounds during the fight, and I sent them on a trolley to
Belfast with a dispatch to General Smith-Dorrien, informing him that
four of his officers and 250 men were in our hands, that they would be
well looked after, and that I now sent back the slightly wounded who had
been taken away by mistake.

I will try to give the concluding sentence of my communication as far as
I remember it, and also the reply to it. I may add that the words “The
Lady Roberts” had been chiselled on the naval gun, and that many persons
had just been expelled from Pretoria and other places as being
considered “undesirables.”

My letter wound up as follows:—

“I have been obliged to expel “The Lady Roberts” from
Helvetia, this lady being an “undesirable” inhabitant
(p. 297) of that place. I am glad to inform you that she
seems quite at home in her new surroundings, and pleased
with the change of company.”

To which General Smith-Dorrien replied:

“As the lady you refer to is not accustomed to sleep in the
open air, I would recommend you to try flannel next to the
skin.”

I had been instructed to keep the officers we had taken prisoners until
further orders, and these four were therefore lodged in an empty
building near Roos Senekal under a guard. The Boers had christened this
place “Ceylon,” but the officers dubbed it “the house beautiful” on
account of its utter want of attractiveness.

They were allowed to write to their relatives and friends, to receive
letters, and food and clothes, which were usually sent through our lines
under the white flag. The company was soon augmented by the arrivals of
many other British officers who were taken prisoners from time to time.

The 250 captured rank and file were given up to the British authorities
at Middelburg some days after, for military reasons.

(p. 298) “The Lady Roberts” was the first and so far the last big gun
taken from the English, and we are proud to say that never during this
War, notwithstanding all our vicissitudes and reverses, have the British
succeeded in taking one of our big guns.

One might call this bragging, but that is not my intention and I do not
think I am given to boasting. We only relate it as one of the most
remarkable incidents of the War, and as a fact which we may recall with
satisfaction.

As already related, the cart with the shells for “The Lady Roberts” had
to be left behind after the battle. Nothing would have given us greater
pleasure than to send some shells from “Her Ladyship” into the Belfast
camp on the last day of 1900, with the “Compliments of the Season.” Not
of course, in order to cause any destruction, but simply as a New Year’s
greeting. We would have sent them close by like the Americans in Mark
Twain’s book: “Not right in it, you know, but close by or near it.” Only
the shells were wanting, for with the gun were 50 charged “hulzen” and a
case of cordite “schokbuizen.”

(p. 299) We tried to make a shell from an empty “Long Tom” one, by
cutting the latter down, for the “Long Toms” shells were of greater
calibre, and after having it filled with four pom-pom bullets, some
cordite etc., we made it tight with copper wire, and soldered the whole
together.

But when the shell was fired it burst a few steps away from the mouth of
the cannon, and we had to abandon all hope of ever hearing a shout from
the distinguished “Lady’s” throat.

It was stowed away safely in the neighbourhood of Tautesberg and guarded
by a group of cattle-farmers, or rather “bush-lancers,” as they were
afterwards called, in case we should get hold of the proper shells some
day or other.

In connection with the attack on Helvetia I should like to quote the
following lines, written by one of our poetasters, State-Secretary Mr.
F. W. Reitz, in the field, although the translation will hardly give an
adequate idea of the peculiar treatment of the subject:—

(p. 302) CHAPTER XXIX.

A DISMAL “HAPPY NEW YEAR.”

This is the 31st of December, 1900, two days after the victory gained by
our burghers over the English troops at Helvetia, at the same time the
last day of the year, or, as they call it, “New Year’s Eve”; which is
celebrated in our country with great enjoyment. The members of each
family used to meet on that day, sometimes coming from all parts of the
country. If this could not be done they would invite their most intimate
friends to come and see the Old Year out—to “ring out the old, and ring
in the new,” for “Auld Lang Syne.” This was one of the most festive days
for everybody in South Africa. On the 31st of December, 1899, we had had
to give up our time-honoured custom, there being no chance of joining in
the friendly gathering at home, most of us having been (p. 303) at the
front since the beginning of October, 1899, while our commandos were
still in the very centre of Natal or in the northern part of Cape
Colony; Ladysmith, Kimberley, and Mafeking were still besieged, and on
the 15th of December the great victory of Colenso over the English Army
had been won.

It is true that even then we were far from our beloved friends, but
those who had not been made prisoners were still in direct communication
with those who were near and dear to them. And although we were unable
to pass the great day in the family circle, yet we could send our best
wishes by letter or by wire. We had then hoped it would be the last time
we should have to spend the last day of the year under such distressing
circumstances, trusting the war would soon be over.

Now 365 days had gone by—long, dreary, weary days of incessant
struggle; and again our expectations had not been realised, and our
hopes were deferred. We were not to have the privilege of celebrating
“the Old and the New” with our people as we had so fervently wished the
previous year on the Tugela.

(p. 304) The day would pass under far more depressing circumstances. In
many homes the members of the family we left behind would be prevented
from being in a festive mood, thinking as they were of the country’s
position, while mourning the dead, and pre-occupied with the fate of the
wounded, of those who were missing, or known to be prisoners-of-war.

It was night-time, and everybody was under the depression of the present
serious situation. Is it necessary to say that we were all absorbed in
our thoughts, reviewing the incidents of the past year? Need we say that
everyone of us was thinking with sadness of our many defeats, of the
misery suffered on the battlefields, of our dead and wounded and
imprisoned comrades; how we had been compelled to give up Ladysmith,
Kimberley, and Mafeking, and how the principal towns of our Republics,
Bloemfontein and Pretoria, where our beloved flag had been flying for so
many long years, over an independent people, were now in the hands of
the enemy? Need we say we were thinking that night more than ever of our
many relatives who had sacrificed their blood (p. 305) and treasure in
this melancholy War for the good Cause; of our wives and children, who
did not know what had become of us, and whom most of us had not seen for
the last eight months. Were they still alive? Should we ever see them
alive? Such were the terrible thoughts passing through our minds as we
silently sat round the fires that evening.

Nor did anything tend to relieve the sombre monotony. This time we
should not have a chance of receiving some little things to cheer us up
and remind us that our dearest friends had thought of us. Our fare would
that day be the eternal meat and mealies—mealies and meat.

But why call to mind all these sombre memories of the past? Sufficient
unto the day it seems was the evil thereof. Why sum up the misery of a
whole year’s struggles? And thus we “celebrated” New Year’s Eve of 1900,
till we found our consolation in that greatest of blessings to a
tired-out man—a refreshing sleep.

But no sooner had we risen next morning (p. 306) than the cheerful
compliments: “A Happy New Year!” or “My best wishes for the New Year”
rang in our ears. We were all obviously trying to lay stress on the
possible blessings of the future, so as to make each other forget the
past, but I am afraid we did not expect the fulfilment of half of what
we wished.

For well we knew how bad things were all round, how many dark clouds
were hanging over our heads, and how very few bright spots were visible
on the political horizon.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 307) CHAPTER XXX.

GENERAL ATTACK ON BRITISH FORTS.

My presence was requested on the 3rd of January, 1901, by the
Commandant-General at a Council of War, which was to be held two days
after at Hoetspruit, some miles east of Middelburg. General Botha would
be there with his staff, and a small escort would take him from Ermelo
over the railway through the enemy’s lines. My commandos were to hold
themselves in readiness. There was no doubt in my mind as to there being
some great schemes on the cards, and that the next day we should have
plenty to do, for the Commandant-General would not come all that way
unless something important was on. And why should my commandos have to
keep themselves in readiness?

On the morning of the 5th I went to the (p. 308) place of destination,
which we reached at 11 o’clock, to find the Commandant-General and suite
had already arrived. General Botha had been riding all night long in
order to get through the enemy’s lines, and had been resting in the
shadow of a tree at Hoetspruit. The meeting of his adjutants and mine
was rather boisterous, and woke him up, whereupon he rose immediately
and came up to me with his usual genial smile. We had often been
together for many months in the War, and the relations between us had
been very cordial. I therefore do not hesitate to call him a
bosom-friend, with due respect to his Honour as my chief.

“Hullo, old brother, how are you?” was Botha’s welcome.

“Good morning, General, thank you, how are you?” I replied.

My high appreciation of, and respect for his position, made me refrain
from calling him Louis, although we did not differ much in age, and were
on intimate terms.

“I must congratulate you upon your successful attack on Helvetia. You
made a (p. 309) nice job of it,” he said. “I hope you had a pleasant
New Year’s Eve. But,” he went on, “I am sorry in one way, for the enemy
will be on his guard now, and we may not succeed in the execution of the
plans we are going to discuss to-day, and which concern those very
districts.”

“I am sorry, General,” I replied, “but of course I know nothing of those
plans.”

“Well,” rejoined the Commandant-General, “we will try anyhow, and hope
for the best.”

An hour later we met in council. Louis Botha briefly explained how he
had gone with General Christian Botha and Tobias Smuts, with 1,200 men,
to Komatiboven, between Carolina and Belfast, where they had left the
commandos to cross the line in order to meet the officers who were to
the north of it with the object of going into the details of a combined
attack on the enemy’s camps.

All were agreed and so it was decided that the attack would be made
during the night of the 7th of January, at midnight, the enemy’s
positions being stormed simultaneously.

(p. 310) The attack was to be made in the following way: The
Commandant-General and General C. Botha along with F. Smuts, would
attack on the southern side of the garrisons, in the following places:
Pan Station, Wonderfontein Station, Belfast Camp and Station, Dalmanutha
and Machadodorp, while I was to attack these places from the north. The
commandos would be divided so as to have a field-cornet’s force charge
at each place.

I must say that I had considerable difficulty in trying to make a little
go a long way in dividing my small force along such a long line of
camps, but the majority were in favour of this “frittering-away” policy,
and so it had to be done.

The enemy’s strength in different places was not easy to ascertain. I
knew the strongest garrison at Belfast numbered over 2,500 men, and this
place was to be made the chief point of attack, although the Machadodorp
garrison was pretty strong too. The distance along which the
simultaneous attack was to be made was about 22 miles and there were at
least seven points to be stormed, viz., (p. 311) Pan Station,
Wonderfontein, Belfast Village, Monument Hill (near Belfast), the coal
mines (near Belfast), Dalmanutha Station and Machadodorp. A big
programme, no doubt.

I can only, of course, give a description of the incidents on my side of
the railway line, for the blockhouses and the forts provided with guns,
which had been built along the railway, separated us entirely from the
commandos to the south. The communication between both sides of the
railway could be only kept up at night time and with a great amount of
trouble, by means of despatch-carriers. We, therefore, did not even know
how the attacking-parties on the southern side had been distributed. All
we knew was, that any place which was to be attacked from the north
would also be stormed from the south at the same time, except the coal
mine west of Belfast, occupied by Lieutenant Marshall with half a
section of the Gloucester Regiment, which we were to attack separately,
as it was situated some distance north of the railway line.

I arranged my plans as follows: Commandant Trichardt, with two
field-cornets (p. 312) posses of Middelburgers and one of Germiston
burghers, were to attack Pan and Wonderfontein; the State Artillery
would go for the coal mine; the Lydenburgers look after Dalmanutha and
Machadodorp; while General Muller with the Johannesburgers and
Boksburgers would devote their attention to Monument Hill.

I should personally attack Belfast Village, with a detachment of police,
passing between the coal mine and Monument Hill. My attack could only,
of course, be commenced after that on the latter two places had turned
out successfully, as otherwise I should most likely have my retreat cut
off.

Gen. Viljoen meeting Gen. Botha
at Hoedspruit, near Middleburg.

In the evening of the 7th of January all the commandos marched, for the
enemy would have been able to see us from a distance on this flat ground
if we had started in the daytime, and would have fired at us with their
4·7 guns, one of which we knew to be at Belfast. We had to cover a
distance of 15 miles between dusk and midnight. There was therefore no
time to be lost, for a commando moves very slowly at night time if
(p. 313) there is any danger in front. If the danger comes from the
rear, things very often move quicker than is good for the horses. Then
the men have to be kept together, and the guides are followed up
closely, for if any burghers were to lag behind and the chain be broken,
20 or 30 of them might stray which would deprive us of their services.

It was one of those nights, known in the Steenkamp Mountains as “dirty
nights,” very dark, with a piercing easterly wind, which blew an
incessant, fine, misty rain into our faces. About nine o’clock the mist
changed into heavy rains, and we were soon drenched to the skin, for
very few of us wore rainproof cloaks.

At ten the rain left off, but a thick fog prevented us from seeing
anything in front of us, while the cold easterly wind had numbed our
limbs, almost making them stiff. Some of the burghers had therefore to
be taken up by the ambulance in order to have their circulation restored
by means of some medicine or artificial treatment. The impenetrable
darkness made it very difficult to get on, as we (p. 314) were obliged
to keep contact by means of despatch-riders; for, as already stated, I
had to wait with the police for the result of the attack on the two
positions to the right and left of me.

Exactly at midnight all had arrived at the place of destination.
Unfortunately the wind was roaring so loudly as to prevent any firing
being heard even at a hundred paces distant.

The positions near Monument Hill and the coal mine were attacked
simultaneously, but unfortunately our artillerymen could not distinctly
see the trenches on account of the darkness, and they charged right past
them, and had to turn back when they became aware of the fact, by which
time the enemy had found out what was up, and allowed their assailants
to come close up to them (it was a round fort about five feet high with
a trench round it), and received them with a tremendous volley. The
artillerymen, however, charged away pluckily, and before they had
reached the wall four were killed and nine wounded. The enemy shot
fiercely and aimed well.

(p. 315) Our brave boys stormed away, and soon some of them jumped over
the wall and a hand-to-hand combat ensued. The commanding officer of the
fortress, Lieutenant Marshall, was severely wounded in the leg, which
fact must have had a great influence on the course of the fight, for he
surrendered soon after. Some soldiers managed to escape, some were
killed, about 10 wounded, and 25 were taken prisoners. No less than five
artillerymen were killed and 13 wounded, amongst the latter being the
valiant Lieutenant Coetsee who afterwards was cruelly murdered by
kaffirs near Roos Senekal. The defenders as well as the assailants had
behaved excellently.

Near Monument Hill, at some distance from the position, the burghers’
horses were left behind, and the men marched up in scattered order, in
the shape of a crescent. When we arrived at the enemy’s outposts they
had formed up at 100 paces from the forts, but in the dark the soldiers
did not see us till we almost ran into them. There was no time to waste
words. Fortunately, they surrendered without making any defence, which
made our (p. 316) task much lighter, for if one shot had been fired,
the garrison of the forts would have been informed of our approach. Only
at 20 paces distance from the forts near the Monument (there were four
of them), we were greeted with the usual “Halt, who goes there.” After
this had been repeated three times without our taking any notice, and as
we kept coming closer, the soldiers fired from all the forts. Only now
could we see how they were situated. We found them to be surrounded by a
barbed wire fence which was so strong and thick that some burghers were
soon entangled in it, but most of them got over it.

The first fort was taken after a short but sharp defence, the usual
“hurrah” of the burghers jumping into the fort was, like a whisper of
hope in the dark, an encouragement to the remainder of the storming
burghers, who now soon took the other forts, not without having met with
a stout resistance. Many burghers were killed, amongst whom the brave
Field-Cornet John Ceronie, and many were wounded.

It had looked at first as if the enemy did not (p. 317) mean to give
in, but we could not go back, and “onward” was the watchword. In several
instances there was a struggle at a few paces’ distance, only the wall
of the fort intervening between the burghers and the soldiers. The
burghers cried: “Hands up, you devils,” but the soldiers replied: “Hy
kona,” a kaffir expression which means “shan’t.”

“Jump over the walls, my men!” shouted my officers, and at last they
were in the forts: not, of course, without the loss of many valuable
lives. A “melée” now followed; the English struck about with their guns
and with their fists, and several burghers lay on the ground wrestling
with the soldiers. One “Tommy” wanted to thrust a bayonet through a
Boer, but was caught from behind by one of the latter’s comrades, and
knocked down and a general hand-to-hand fight ensued, a rolling over and
over, till one of the parties was exhausted, disarmed, wounded, or
killed. One of the English captains (Vosburry) and 40 soldiers were
found dead or wounded, several having been pierced by their own
bayonets.

Some burghers had been knocked senseless (p. 318) with the butt-end of
a rifle in the struggle with the enemy.

This carnage had lasted for twenty minutes, during which the result had
been decided in our favour, and a “hurrah,” full of glory and
thankfulness, came from the throats of some hundreds of burghers. We had
won the day, and 81 prisoners-of-war had been made, including two
officers—Captain Milner and Lieutenant Dease—both brave defenders of
England’s flag.

They belonged to the Royal Irish Regiment, of which all Britons should
be proud.

In the captured forts we found a Maxim, in perfect order, 20 boxes of
ammunition, and other things, besides provisions, also a quantity of
spirits, which was, however, at once destroyed, to the disappointment of
many burghers.

We now pushed on to Belfast village, but found every cliff and ditch
occupied. All efforts to get in touch with the commandos which meant to
attack the village from the south were without avail. Besides, we did
not hear a single shot fired, and did (p. 319) not know what had become
of the attack from the south. In intense darkness we were firing at each
other from time to time, so that it was not advisable to continue our
operations under the circumstances, and at daybreak I told all my
commandos to desist.

The attacks on Wonderfontein, Pan Station, Dalmanutha, and Machadodorp
had failed.

I afterwards received a report from the commandos on the other side of
the line, that, owing to the dark night, their attacks, although they
were made with deliberation and great bravery, had all been
unsuccessful. They had repeatedly missed the forts and had shot at one
another.

General Christian Botha had succeeded in capturing some of the enemy’s
outposts, and in pushing on had come across a detachment of Gordon
Highlanders and been obliged to retire with a loss of 40 killed and
wounded.

We found, therefore, these forts in the hands of the soldiers, who, in
my opinion, belonged to the best regiments of the English army.

(p. 320) The guests of our Government, at “the house beautiful” near
Roos Senekal were thus added to by two gentlemen, Captain Milner and
Lieutenant Dease, and they were my prisoners-of-war for four months,
during which time I found Captain Milner one of the most worthy British
officers whom it had been my privilege to meet in this War. Not only in
his manly appearance, but especially by his noble character he stood
head and shoulders above his fellow-officers.

Lieutenant Dease bore a very good character but was young and
inexperienced. For several reasons I am pleased to be able to make
publicly these statements.

The soldiers we had made prisoners during this fight, as well as those
we took at Helvetia, were given up to the British officers a few days
afterwards, as we were not in a position to feed them properly, and it
would not be humane or fair to keep the soldiers who had the misfortune
of falling into our hands without proper food. This, of course, was a
very unsatisfactory state of affairs, for we had to fight fiercely,
valuable lives had to be sacrificed, (p. 321) every nerve had to be
strained to force the enemy to surrender, and to take his positions; and
then, when we had captured them, the soldiers were merely disarmed and
sent back to the English lines after a little while, only to find them
fighting against us once more in a few days.

The Boers asked, “Why are not these “Tommies” required to take the oath
before being liberated not to fight against us again?” I believe this
would have been against the rules of civilised warfare, and we did not
think it chivalrous to ask a man who was a prisoner to take an oath in
return for his release.

A prisoner-of-war has no freedom of action, and might have promised
under the circumstances what he would not have done if he had been a
free man.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 322) CHAPTER XXXI.

A “BLUFF” AND A BATTLE.

The last days of February, 1901, were very trying for our commandos on
the “Hoogeveld,” south of the railway. General French, assisted by half
a dozen other generals, with a force of 60,000 men, crossed the
“Hoogeveld,” between the Natal border and the Delagoa Railway, driving
all the burghers and cattle before him, continually closer to the Swazi
frontier, in order to strike a “final blow” there.

These operations the English called “The Great Sweep of February, 1901.”

Commandant-General Botha sent word that he was in a bad plight on the
“Hoogeveld,” the enemy having concentrated all his available troops upon
him. I was asked to divert their attention as much as possible by
repeated (p. 323) attacks on the railway line, and to worry them
everywhere.

To attack the fortified entrenchments in these parts, where we had only
just been taking the offensive, causing the enemy to be on his guard,
would not have been advisable. I therefore decided to make a feint
attack on Belfast.

One night we moved with all the burghers who had horses, about 15 carts,
waggons, and other vehicles, guns and pom-pom, to a high “bult,” near
the “Pannetjes.” When the sun rose the next morning we were in full
sight of the enemy at Belfast, from which we were about ten miles away.

Here our commando was split into two parts, and the mounted men spread
about in groups of fifty men each, with carts scattered everywhere among
the ranks. We slowly approached Belfast in this order. Our commando
numbered about 800 men, and considering the way we were distributed,
this would look three times as many. We halted several times, and the
heliographers, who were posted everywhere in sight of the enemy,
(p. 324) made as much fuss as possible. Scouts were riding about
everywhere, making a great display by dashing about all over the place,
from one group of burghers to another. After we had waited again for
some little time we moved on, and thus the comedy lasted till sunset; in
fact, we had got within range of the enemy’s guns. We had received
information from Belfast to the effect that General French had taken all
the guns with him to Belfast, leaving only a few of small calibre, which
could not reach us until we were at about 4,000 yards from the fort. Our
pom-pom and our 15-pounder were divided between the two divisions, and
the officers had orders to fire a few shots on Belfast at sunset. We
could see all day long how the English near Monument Hill were making
ditches round the village and putting up barbed wire fences.

Trains were running backwards and forwards between Belfast and the
nearest stations, probably to bring up reinforcements.

At twilight we were still marching, and by the light of the last rays of
the sun we fired our two valuable field-pieces simultaneously, (p. 325)
as arranged. I could not see where the shells were falling, but we heard
them bursting, and consoled ourselves with the idea that they must have
struck in near the enemy. Each piece sent half a dozen shells, and some
volleys were fired from a few rifles at intervals. We thought the enemy
would be sure to take this last movement for a general attack. What he
really did think, there is no saying. As the burghers put it, “We are
trying to make them frightened, but the thing to know is, did they get
frightened?” For this concluded our programme for the day, and we
retired for the night, leaving the enemy in doubt as to whether we meant
to give him any further trouble, yet without any apology for having
disturbed his rest.

The result of this bloodless fight was nil in wounded and killed on
both sides.

On the 12th of February, 1901, the first death-sentence on a traitor on
our side was about to be carried out, when suddenly our outposts round
Belfast were attacked by a strong British column under General Walter
Kitchener. When the report was brought to (p. 326) our laager, all the
burghers went to the rescue, in order to keep the enemy as far from the
laager as possible, and beat them back. Meanwhile the outposts retired
fighting all the while. We took up the most favourable positions we
could and waited. The enemy did not come up close to us that evening,
but camped out on a round hill between Dullstroom and Belfast and we
could distinctly see how the soldiers were all busy digging ditches and
trenches round the camp and putting up barbed wire enclosures. They were
very likely afraid of a night attack and did not forget the old saying
about being “wise in time.”

Near the spot where their camp was situated were several roads leading
in different directions which left us in doubt as to which way they
intended to go, and whether they wanted to attack us, or were on their
way to Witpoort-Lydenburg.

The next morning, at sunset, the enemy broke up his camp and made a
stir. First came a dense mass of mounted men, who after having gone
about a few hundred paces, split up into two divisions. One portion
(p. 327) moved in a westerly direction, the other to the north, slowly
followed by a long file, or as they say in Afrikander “gedermte” (gut)
of waggons and carts which, of course, formed the convoy. Companies of
infantry, with guns, marched between the vehicles.

I came to the conclusion that they intended to attack from two sides,
and therefore ordered the ranks to scatter. General Muller, with part of
the burghers, went in advance of the enemy’s left flank and, as the
English spread out their ranks, we did the same.

At about 9 a.m. our outposts near the right flank of the English were
already in touch with the enemy, and rifle-fire was heard at intervals.

I still had the old 15-pounder, but the stock of ammunition had gone
down considerably and the same may be said of the pom-pom of
Rhenosterkop fame. We fired some shots from the 15-pounder at a division
of cavalry at the foot of a kopje. Our worthy artillery sergeant swore
he had hit them right in the centre, but even with my (p. 328) strong
spy-glass I could not see the shells burst, although I admit the enemy
showed a little respect for them, which may be concluded from the fact
that they at once mounted their horses and looked for cover.

A British soldier is much more in awe of a shell than a Boer is, and the
enemy’s movements are therefore not always a criterion of our getting
the range. We had, moreover, only some ordinary grenades left, some of
which would not burst, as the “schokbuizen” were defective, and we could
not be sure of their doing any harm.

The other side had some howitzers, which began to spit about lyddite
indiscriminately. They also had some quick-firing guns of a small
calibre, which, however, did not carry particularly far. But they were a
great nuisance, as they would go for isolated burghers without being at
all economical with their ammunition.

Meanwhile, the enemy’s left reached right up to Schoonpoort, where some
burghers, who held good positions, were able to fight them. This caused
continual collisions with our outposts. (p. 329) Here, also, the
assailants had two 15-pounder Armstrong’s, which fired at any moving
target, and hardly ever desisted, now on one or two burghers who showed
themselves, then on a tree, or an anthill, or a protruding rock. They
thus succeeded in keeping up a deafening cannonade, which would have
made one think there was a terrific fight going on, instead of which it
was a very harmless bombardment.

It did no more harm than at the English manœuvres, although it was no
doubt a brilliant demonstration, a sort of performance to show the
British Lion’s prowess. I could not see the practical use of it, though.

It was only on the enemy’s right wing that we got near enough to feel
some of the effect of the artillery’s gigantic efforts, which here
forced us to some sharp but innocent little fights between the outposts.
At about 4 o’clock in the afternoon, the British cavalry stormed our
left, which was in command of General Muller. We soon repulsed them,
however. Half an hour after we saw the enemy’s carts go back.

I sent a heliographic message to General (p. 330) Muller, with whom I
had kept in close contact, to the effect that they were moving away
their carts and that we ought to try and charge them on all points as
well as we could.

“All right,” he answered; “shall we start at once?” I flashed back
“Yes,” and ordered a general charge.

The burghers now appeared all along the extended fighting line.

The enemy’s guns, which were just ready to be moved, were again placed
in position and opened fire, but our men charged everywhere, a sort of
action which General Kitchener did not seem to like, for his soldiers
began to flee with their guns, and a general confusion ensued. Some of
these guns were still being fired at the Boers but the latter stormed
away determinedly. The British lost many killed and wounded.

The cavalry fled in such a hurry as to leave the infantry as the only
protection of the guns, and although these men also beat a retreat they,
at least, did it while fighting.

I do not think I overstate the case by declaring that General Walter
Kitchener owed it to the stubborn defence of his infantry (p. 331) that
his carts were not captured by us that day.

Their ambulance, in charge of Dr. Mathews and four assistants, and some
wounded fell into our hands, and were afterwards sent back.

We pursued the enemy as well as we could, but about nine miles from
Belfast, towards which the retreating enemy was marching, the forts
opened fire on us from a 4·7 naval gun and they got the range so well
that lyddite shells were soon bursting about our ears.

We were now in the open, quite exposed and in sight of the Belfast
forts. Two of our burghers were wounded here.

Field-Cornet Jaapie Kriege, who was afterwards killed, with about 35
burghers, was trying to cut off the enemy from a “spruit”-drift; the
attack was a very brave one, but our men ventured too far, and would all
have been captured had not the other side been so much in a hurry to get
away from us. Luckily, too, another field-cornet realised the situation,
and kept the enemy well under fire, thus attracting Kriege’s attention,
who now got out of this scrape.

(p. 332) When night fell we left the enemy alone, and went back to our
laager. The next morning the outposts reported that the would-be
assailants were all gone.

How much this farce had cost General Kitchener we could not tell with
certainty. An English officer told me afterwards he had been in the
fight, and that their loss there had been 52 dead and wounded, including
some officers. He also informed me that their object that day had been
to dislodge us. If that is so, I pity the soldiers who were told to do
this work.

Our losses were two burghers wounded, as already stated.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 333) CHAPTER XXXII.

EXECUTION OF A TRAITOR.

As briefly referred to in the last chapter, there occurred in the early
part of February, 1901, what I always regard as one of the most
unpleasant incidents of the whole Campaign, and which even now I cannot
record without awakening the most painful recollections. I refer to the
summary execution of a traitor in our ranks, and inasmuch as a great
deal has been written of this tragic episode, I venture to state the
particulars of it in full. The facts of the case are as follows:—

At this period of the War, as well as subsequently, much harm was done
to our cause by various burghers who surrendered to the enemy, and who,
actuated by the most sordid motives, assisted the British in every
possible way against us. Some of these treacherous (p. 334) Boers
occasionally fell into our hands, and were tried by court martial for
high treason; but however damning the evidence brought against them they
usually managed to escape with some light punishment. On some occasions
sentence of death was passed on them, but it was invariably commuted to
imprisonment for life, and as we had great difficulty in keeping such
prisoners, they generally succeeded, sooner or later, in making their
escape. This mistaken leniency was the cause of much dissatisfaction in
our ranks, which deeply resented that these betrayers of their country
should escape scot-free.

About this time a society was formed at Pretoria, chiefly composed of
surrendered burghers, called the “Peace Committee,” but better known to
us as the “Hands-uppers.” Its members surreptitiously circulated
pamphlets and circulars amongst our troops, advising them to surrender
and join the enemy. The impartial reader will doubtless agree that such
a state of things was not to be tolerated. Imagine, for example, that
English officers and soldiers circulated similar communications
(p. 335) amongst the Imperial troops! Would such proceedings have been
tolerated?

The chairman of this society was a man by the name of Meyer De Kock, who
had belonged to a Steenkampsberg field-cornet’s force and had deserted
to the enemy. He was the man who first suggested to the British
authorities the scheme of placing the Boer women and children in
Concentration Camps—a system which resulted in so much misery and
suffering—and he maintained that this would be the most effective way
of forcing the Boers to surrender, arguing that no burgher would
continue to fight when once his family was in British hands.

One day a kaffir, bearing a white flag, brought a letter from this
person’s wife addressed to one of my field-cornets, informing him that
her husband, Mr. De Kock, wished to meet him and discuss with him the
advisability of surrendering with his men to the enemy. My field-cornet,
however, was sufficiently sensible and loyal to send no reply.

And so it occurred that one morning Mr. De Kock, doubtlessly thinking
that he would (p. 336) escape punishment as easily as others had before
him, had the audacity to ride coolly into our outposts. He was promptly
arrested and incarcerated in Roos Senekal Gaol, this village being at
the time in our possession. Soon afterwards he was tried by
court-martial, and on the face of the most damning evidence, and on
perusal of a host of incriminating documents found in his possession,
was condemned to death.

Execution of a Traitor.

About a fortnight later a waggon drove up to our laager at Windhoek,
carrying Lieutenant De Hart, accompanied by a member of President
Burger’s bodyguard, some armed burghers, and the condemned man De Kock.
They halted at my tent, and the officer handed me an order from our
Government, bearing the President’s ratification of the sentence of
death, and instructing me to carry it out within 24 hours. Needless to
say I was much grieved to receive this order, but as it had to be obeyed
I thought the sooner it was done the better for all concerned. So then
and there on the veldt I approached the condemned man, and said:—

(p. 337) “Mr. De Kock, the Government has confirmed the sentence of
death passed on you, and it is my painful duty to inform you that this
sentence will be carried out to-morrow evening. If you have any request
to make or if you wish to write to your family you will now have an
opportunity of doing so.”

At this he turned deadly pale, and some minutes passed before he had
recovered from his emotion. He then expressed a wish to write to his
family, and was conducted, under escort, to a tent, where writing
materials were placed before him. He wrote a long communication to his
wife, which we sent to the nearest British officers to forward to its
destination. He also wrote me a letter thanking me for my “kind
treatment,” and requested me to forward the letter to his wife. Later on
spiritual consolation was offered and administered to him by our pastor.

Next day, as related in the previous chapter, we were attacked by a
detachment of General Kitchener’s force from Belfast. This kept me busy
all day, and I delegated two of my subaltern officers to carry out the
execution. (p. 338) At dusk the condemned man was blindfolded and
conducted to the side of an open grave, where twelve burghers fired a
volley, and death was instantaneous. I am told that De Kock met his fate
with considerable fortitude.

So far as I am aware, this was the first Boer “execution” in our
history. I afterwards read accounts of it in the English press, in which
it was described as murder, but I emphatically repudiate this
description of a wholly justifiable act. The crime was a serious one,
and the punishment was well deserved, and I have no doubt that the same
fate would have awaited any English soldier guilty of a similar offence.
It seems a great pity, however, that no war can take place without these
melancholy incidents.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 339) CHAPTER XXXIII.

IN A TIGHT CORNER.

It was now March, 1901. For some time our burghers had been complaining
of inactivity, and the weary and monotonous existence was gradually
beginning to pall on them. But it became evident that April would be an
eventful month, as the enemy had determined not to suffer our presence
in these parts any longer. A huge movement, therefore, was being set on
foot to surround us and capture the whole commando en bloc.

It began with a night attack on a field-cornet’s force posted at
Kruger’s Post, north of Lydenburg, and here the enemy succeeded in
capturing 35 men and a quantity of “impedimenta;” the field-cornet in
question, although warned in time, having taken no (p. 340) proper
precautions. By the middle of April the enemy’s forward movement was in
full swing. General Plumer came from Pietersburg, General Walter
Kitchener from Lydenburg, and General Barber from Middelburg. They
approached us in six different directions, altogether a force of 25,000
men, and the whole under the supreme command of General Sir Bindon
Blood.

No escape was available for us through Secoekuniland on the north, as
the natives here, since the British had occupied their territory, were
avowedly hostile to us. To escape, therefore, we would have to break
through the enemy’s lines and also to cross the railway, which was
closely guarded.

The enemy were advancing slowly from various directions. All our roads
were carefully guarded, and the cordon was gradually tightening around
us. We were repeatedly attacked, now on this side, now on that, the
British being clearly anxious to discover our position and our strength.
In a sharp skirmish with a column from Lydenburg my faithful
Fighting-General Muller was severely wounded in his (p. 341) shoulder,
and a commando of Lydenburgers had been isolated from me and driven by
the enemy along Waterfal River up to Steelpoort, where they encountered
hostile tribes of kaffirs. The commandant of the corps after a short
defence was obliged to destroy his guns, forsake his baggage, and escape
with his burghers in small groups into the mountains.

Our position was growing more critical, but I resolved to make a stand
before abandoning our carts and waggons, although there seemed little
hope of being able to save anything. In fact the situation was extremely
perilous. As far as I could see we were entirely hemmed in, all the
roads were blocked, my best officer wounded, I had barely 900 men with
me, and our stock of ammunition was very limited.

I have omitted to mention that early in April, when we first got an
inkling of this move I had liberated all the British officers whom I had
kept as prisoners at Middelburg, and thus saved the British authorities
many a D.S.O. which would otherwise have been claimed by their rescuers.

The British around us were now posted as (p. 342) follows: At Diepkloof
on the Tautesberg to the north-west of us; at Roodekraal, between
Tautesberg and Bothasberg, to the west of us; at Koebold, under
Roodehoogte; at Windhoek, to the east of us; at Oshoek, to the
north-east; and to the north of us between Magneetshoogte and Klip
Spruit. We were positioned on Mapochsberg near Roos Senekal, about
midway between Tautesberg and Steenkampsberg. We had carts, waggons, two
field-pieces, and a Colt-Maxim.

We speedily discovered that we should have to leave our baggage and
guns, and rely mainly on our horses and rifles. We had placed our
hospitals as well as we could, one in an empty school-building at
Mapochsberg with 10 wounded, under the care of Dr. Manning; the other,
our only field-hospital, at Schoonpoort, under the supervision of Dr. H.
Neethling. Whether these poor wounded Boers would have to be abandoned
to the enemy, was a question which perplexed us considerably. If so, we
should have been reduced to only one physician, Dr. Leitz, a young
German who might get through with (p. 343) a pack-horse. Many officers
and men, however, had lost all hope of escape.

It was about the 20th of April when the British approached so close that
we had to fight all day to maintain our positions. I gave orders that
same night that we should burn our waggons, destroy our guns with
dynamite, and make a dash through the enemy’s lines, those burghers who
had no horses to mount the mules of the convoy. Hereupon about 100
burghers and an officer coolly informed me that they had had enough
fighting, and preferred to surrender. I was at that time powerless to
prevent them doing so, so I took away all their horses and ammunition,
at which they did not seem very pleased. Before dusk our camp was a
scene of wild confusion. Waggons and carts were burning fiercely,
dynamite was being exploded, and horseless burghers were attempting to
break in the mules which were to serve them as mounts. Meanwhile a
skirmish was going on between our outposts and those of the enemy.

It was a strange procession that left (p. 344) Mapochsberg that night
in our dash through the British lines. Many Boers rode mules, whilst
many more had no saddles, and no small number were trudging along on
foot, carrying their rifles and blankets on their shoulders. My scouts
had reported that the best way to get through was on the southern side
along Steelpoort, about a quarter of a mile from the enemy’s camp at
Bothasberg. But even should we succeed in breaking through the cordon
around us, we still had to cross the line at Wondersfontein before
daybreak, so as not to get caught between the enemy’s troops and the
blockhouses.

About 100 scouts, who formed our advance-guard, soon encountered the
enemy’s sentries. They turned to the right, then turned to the left; but
everywhere the inquisitive “Tommies” kept asking: “Who goes there?” Not
being over anxious to satisfy their curiosity, they sent round word at
once for us to lie low, and we started very carefully exploring the
neighbourhood. But there seemed no way out of the mess. We might have
attacked some weak point and thus (p. 345) forced our way through, but
it was still four or five hours’ ride to the railway line, and with our
poor mounts we should have been caught and captured. Besides which the
enemy might have warned the blockhouse garrisons, in which case we
should have been caught between two fires.

No; we wanted to get through without being discovered, and seeing that
this was that night hopeless, I consulted my officers and decided to
return to our deserted camp, where we could take up our original
positions without the enemy being aware of our nocturnal excursion.

Next morning the rising sun found us back in our old positions. We
despatched scouts in all directions as usual, so as to make the enemy
believe that we intended to remain there permanently, and we put
ourselves on our guard, ready to repel an attack at any point on the
shortest notice.

But the enemy were much too cautious, and evidently thought they had us
safely in their hands. They amused themselves by destroying every living
thing, and burned the houses (p. 346) and the crops. The whole veldt
all round was black, everything seemed in mourning, the only relief from
this dull monotony of colour being that afforded by the innumerable
specks of khaki all around us. I believe I said there were 25,000 men
there, but it now seemed to me as if there were almost double that
number.

We had to wait until darkness set in before making a second attempt at
escape. The day seemed interminable. Many burghers were loudly
grumbling, and even some officers were openly declaring that all this
had been done on purpose. Of course, these offensive remarks were
pointed at me. At last the situation became too serious. I could only
gather together a few officers to oppose an attack from the enemy on the
eastern side, and something had to be done to prevent a general mutiny.
I therefore ordered a burgher who seemed loudest in his complaints to
receive 15 lashes with a sjambok, and I placed a field-cornet under
arrest. After this the grumblers remained sullenly silent.

The only loophole in the enemy’s lines seemed to be in the direction of
Pietersburg (p. 347) on the portion held by General Plumer, who seemed
far too busy capturing cattle and sheep from the “bush-lancers” to
surround us closely. We therefore decided to take our chance there and
move away as quickly as possible in that direction, and then to bear to
the left, where we expected to find the enemy least watchful. Shortly
before sunset I despatched 100 mounted men to ride openly in the
opposite direction to that which we intended to take, so as to divert
the enemy’s attention from our scene of operations, and sat down to wait
for darkness.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 348) CHAPTER XXXIV.

ELUDING THE BRITISH CORDON.

“The shades of eve were falling fast” as we moved cautiously away from
Mapochsberg and proceeded through Landdrift, Steelpoort, and the
Tautesberg. At 3 o’clock in the morning we halted in a hollow place
where we would not be observed, yet we were still a mile and a half from
the enemy’s cordon. Our position was now more critical than ever; for
should the enemy discover our departure, and General Plumer hurry up
towards us that morning, we should have little chance of escape.

During the day I was obliged to call all the burghers together, and to
earnestly address them concerning the happenings of the previous day. I
told them to tell me candidly if they had lost faith in me, or if they
had any (p. 349) reason not to trust me implicitly, as I would not
tolerate the way in which they had behaved the day before. I added:—

“If you cannot see your way clear to obey implicitly my commands, to be
true to me, and to believe that I am true to you, I shall at once leave
you, and you can appoint someone else to look after you. We are by no
means out of the wood yet, and it is now more than ever necessary that
we should be able to trust one another to the fullest extent. Therefore,
I ask those who have lost confidence in me, or have any objection to my
leading them, to stand out.”

No one stirred. Other officers and burghers next rose and spoke,
assuring me that all the rebels had deserted the previous night, and
that all the men with me would be true and faithful. Then Pastor J. Louw
addressed the burghers very earnestly, pointing out to them the
offensive way in which some of them had spoken of their superior
officers, and that in the present difficult circumstances it was
absolutely necessary that there should be no disintegration and discord
amongst ourselves. (p. 350) I think all these perorations had a very
salutary effect. But such were the difficulties that we officers had to
contend with at the hands of undisciplined men who held exaggerated
notions of freedom of action and of speech, and I was not the only Boer
officer who suffered in this respect.

About two in the afternoon I gave the order to saddle up, as it was
necessary to start before sunset in order to be able to cross the
Olifant’s River before daybreak, so that the enemy should not overtake
us should they notice us. We dismounted and led our horses, for we had
discovered that the English could not distinguish between a body of men
leading their horses and a troop of cattle, so long as the horses were
all kept close together. All the hills around us were covered with
cattle captured from our “bush-lancers,” and therefore our passage was
unnoticed.

We followed an old waggon track along the Buffelskloof, where a road
leads from Tautesberg to Blood River. The stream runs between Botha’s
and Tautesbergen, and flows into the Olifant’s River near Mazeppa Drift.
(p. 351) It is called Blood River on account of the horrible massacre
which took place there many years before, when the Swazi kaffirs
murdered a whole kaffir tribe without distinction of age or sex,
literally turning the river red with blood.

Towards evening we reached the foot of the mountains, and moved in a
north-westerly direction past Makleerewskop. We got through the English
lines without any difficulty along some footpaths, but our progress was
very slow, as we had to proceed in Indian file, and we had to stop
frequently to see that no one was left behind. The country was thickly
wooded, and frequently the baggage on the pack-horses became entangled
with branches of trees, and had to be disentangled and pulled off the
horses’ backs, which also caused considerable delay.

It was 3 o’clock in the morning before we reached the Olifant’s River,
at a spot which was once a footpath drift, but was now washed away and
overgrown with trees and shrubs, making it very difficult to find the
right spot to cross. Our only guide who (p. 352) knew the way had not
been there for 15 years, but recognised the place by some high trees
which rose above the others. We had considerable difficulty in crossing,
the water reaching to our horses’ saddles, and the banks being very
steep. By the time we had all forded the sun had risen. All the other
drifts on the river were occupied by the enemy, our scouts reporting
that Mazeppa Drift, three miles down stream, was entrenched by a strong
English force, as was the case with Kalkfontein Drift, a little higher
up. I suppose this drift was not known to them, and thus had been left
unguarded.

Crossing Railway Line Northward
(Between Balmoral and
Brugspruit Stations).

Having got through we rode in a northerly direction until about 9
o’clock in the morning, and not until then were we sure of being clear
of the enemy’s clutches. But there was a danger that the English had
noticed our absence and had followed us up. I therefore sent out scouts
on the high kopjes in the neighbourhood, and not until these had
reported all clear did we take the risk of off-saddling. You can imagine
how thankful we were after having been in the saddle for over 19 hours,
and I (p. 353) believe our poor animals were no less thankful for a
rest.

We had not slept for three consecutive nights, and soon the whole
commando, with the exception of the sentries, were fast asleep. Few of
us thought of food, for our fatigue and drowsiness were greater than our
hunger. But we could only sleep for two hours, for we were much too
close to the enemy, and we wished to make them lose scent of us
entirely.

The burghers grumbled a good deal at being awakened and ordered to
saddle up, but we moved on nevertheless. I sent some men to enquire at a
kaffir kraal for the way to Pietersburg, and although I had no intention
of going in that direction, I knew that the kaffirs, so soon as we had
gone, would report to the nearest British camp that they had met a
commando of Boers going there. Kaffirs would do this with the hope of
reward, which they often received in the shape of spirituous liquor. We
proceeded all that day in the direction of Pietersburg until just before
sunset we came to a small stream. Here we stopped for an hour and then
went on again, this time, (p. 354) however, to the left in a southerly
direction through the bush to Poortjesnek near Rhenosterkop, where a
little time before the fight with General Paget’s force had taken place.
We had to hurry through the bush, as horse-sickness was prevalent here
and we still had a long way before us. It was midnight before we reached
the foot of the Poortjesnek.

Here my officers informed me that two young burghers had become insane
through fatigue and want of sleep, and that several, while asleep in
their saddles had been pulled off their horses by low branches and
severely injured. Yet we had to get through the Nek and get to the
plateau before I could allow any rest. I went and had a look at the
demented men. They looked as if intoxicated and were very violent. All
our men and horses were utterly exhausted, but we pushed on and at last
reached the plateau, where, to everybody’s great delight, we rested for
the whole day. The demented men would not sleep, but I had luckily some
opium pills with me and I gave each man one of them, so that (p. 355)
they got calmer, and, dropping off to sleep, afterwards recovered.

My scouts reported next day that a strong English patrol had followed us
up, but that otherwise it was “all serene.” We pushed on through
Langkloof over our old fighting ground near Rhenosterkop, then through
the Wilge River near Gousdenberg up to Blackwood Camp, about nine miles
north of Balmoral Station. Here we stayed a few days to allow our
animals to rest and recover from their hardships, and then moved on
across the railway to the Bethel and Ermelo districts. Here the enemy
was much less active, and we should have an opportunity of being left
undisturbed for a little time. But we lost 40 of our horses, who had
caught the dreaded horse-sickness whilst passing through the bush
country.

On the second day of our stay at Blackwood Camp I sent 150 men under
Commandants Groenwald and Viljoen through the Banks, via Staghoek, to
attack the enemy’s camp near Wagendrift on the Olifant’s River. This was
a detachment of the force which (p. 356) had been surrounding us. We
discovered that they were still trying to find us, and that the patrol
which had followed us were not aware of our having got away. It appears
that they only discovered this several days afterwards, and great must
have been the good general’s surprise when they found that the birds had
flown and their great laid schemes had failed.

My 150 men approached the enemy’s camp early in the morning, and when at
a short range began pouring in a deadly rifle fire on the western side.
The British soldiers, who were not dreaming of an attack, ran to and fro
in wild disorder. Our burghers, however, ceased firing when they saw
that there were many women and children in the camp, but the enemy began
soon to pour out a rifle and gun fire, and our men were obliged to carry
on the fight.

After a few days’ absence they returned to our camp and reported to me
that “they had frightened the English out of their wits, for they
thought we were to the east at Roos Senekal, whereas we turned up from
the west.”

(p. 357) Of course the British speedily discovered where we were, and
came marching up from Poortjesnek in great force. But we sent out a
patrol to meet them, and the latter by passing them west of Rhenosterkop
effectually misled them, and we were left undisturbed at Blackwood Camp.

This left us time to prepare for crossing the railway; so I despatched
scouts south to see how matters stood, and bade them return the next
day. We knew that a number of small commandos were located on the south
side of the railway, but to effect a junction was a difficult matter,
and we would risk getting trapped between the columns if we moved at
random. The railway and all the roads were closely guarded, and great
care was being taken to prevent any communication between the burghers
on either side of the line.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 358) CHAPTER XXXV.

BOER GOVERNMENT’S NARROW ESCAPE.

During the first week of May, 1901, we split up into two sections, and
left Blackwood Camp early in the evening. General Muller took one
section over the railway line near Brugspruit, whilst I took the other
section across near Balmoral Station. We naturally kept as far from the
blockhouses as possible, quietly cut the barbed-wire fences stretched
all along the line, and succeeded in crossing it without a shot being
fired. To split up into two sections was a necessary precaution, first
because it would have taken the whole commando too long to cross the
line at one point, and secondly, we made more sure of getting at least
one section across. Further, (p. 359) had the enemy encountered one of
the sections they would probably have concluded that that was our whole
force.

We halted about six miles from the railway-line, as it was now 2 o’clock
in the morning. I ordered a general dismount, and we were at last able
to light up our pipes, which we had been afraid of doing in the
neighbourhood of the railway for fear of the lights being seen by the
enemy. The men sat round in groups, and smoked and chatted cheerfully.
We passed the rest of the night here, and with the exception of the
sentinels on duty, all were able to enjoy a refreshing sleep, lying
down, however, with their unsaddled horses by their side, and the
bridles in their hands—a most necessary and useful precaution. Together
with my adjutant, Nel, I made the round of the sentries, sitting a few
moments with each to cheer them up and keep them awake; for there is
nothing to which I object more than to be surprised by the enemy, when
asleep.

The few hours of rest afforded us passed very quickly, and at the first
glimmer of dawn (p. 360) I ordered the men to be called. This is simply
done by the officers calling “Opzâal, opzâal” (saddle-up) in loud tones.
When it was light enough to look round us we had the satisfaction of
seeing that all was quiet and that no troops were in the immediate
neighbourhood. We made for a place called Kroomdraai, about halfway
between Heidelberg and Middelburg, where we knew there were some mealies
left; and although we should be between the enemy’s camps there, I felt
there would be no danger of being disturbed or surprised.

I also sent a report to the Commandant-General, who was at that time
with the Government near Ermelo, and described to him all that had
happened. I received a reply some days later, requesting me to leave my
commando at Kroomdraai and proceed to see him, as an important Council
of War was to be held between the various generals and the Government.

Four days later I arrived at Begin der Lijn (“beginning of the line”) on
the Vaal River, south-east of Ermelo, accompanied by three (p. 361) of
my adjutants, and reported myself to the Commandant-General.

Simultaneously with my arrival there came two British columns, commanded
by our old friend Colonel Bullock, whose acquaintance we had previously
made at Colenso. They came apparently with the idea of chasing us,
possibly thinking to catch us. This was far from pleasant for me. I had
been riding post-haste for four days, and I and my horse were very tired
and worn out. However, there was no help for it. I had barely time to
salute the members of the Government, and to exchange a few words with
General Botha, when we had to “quit.” For eight days we wandered round
with Colonel Bullock at our heels, always remaining, however, in the
same neighbourhood. This officer’s tactics in trying to capture us were
childishly simple. During the day there would be skirmishes between the
enemy and General Botha’s men, but each evening the former would, by
retiring, attempt to lull us into a sense of security. But as soon as
the sun had set, they would turn right about face, return full speed to
where (p. 362) they had left us, and there would surround us carefully
during the night, gallantly attacking us in the morning and fully
expecting to capture the whole Boer Government and at least half a dozen
generals. This was a distinct nuisance, but the tactics of this worthy
officer were so simple that we very soon discovered them. Accordingly,
every evening we would make a fine pretence of pitching our camp for the
night; but so soon as darkness had set in, we would take the precaution
of moving some 10 or 15 miles further on. Next morning Colonel Bullock,
who had been carefully “surrounding” us all night, would find that we
were unaccountably absent. Much annoyed at this, he would then send his
“flying” columns running after us. This went on for several days, until
finally, as we expected, his horses were tired out, and I believe he was
then removed to some other garrison, having been considered a failure as
a “Boer-stalker.” No doubt he did his best, but he nevertheless managed
his business very clumsily.

Not until nine days after my arrival at this perambulating seat of
Government did we (p. 363) have an opportunity of snatching a few
hours’ rest. We were now at a spot called Immegratie, between Ermelo and
Wakkerstroom. Here a meeting was held by the Executive Council, and
attended by the Commandant-General, General Jan Smuts, General C. Botha,
and myself. General T. Smuts could not be present, as he was busy
keeping Colonel Bullock amused.

At this meeting we discussed the general situation, and decided to send
a letter to President Steyn, but our communication afterwards fell into
the enemy’s hands. In accordance with this letter, President Steyn and
Generals De Wet and De la Rey joined our Government, and a meeting was
held later on.

The day after this meeting at Immegratie I took leave of my friends and
began the journey in a more leisurely fashion back to my commando at
Kroomdraai, via Ermelo and Bethel. The Acting-President had made me a
present of a cart and four mules, as they pitied us for having had to
burn all our vehicles in escaping from Roos Senekal. We were thus once
more seated in a cart, which added (p. 364) considerably to the dignity
of our staff. How long I should continue to be possessed of this means
of transport depended, of course, entirely on the enemy. My old coloured
groom “Mooiroos,” who followed behind leading my horse, evidently
thought the same, for he remarked naïvely: “Baas, the English will soon
fix us in another corner; had we not better throw the cart away?”

We drove into Ermelo that afternoon. The dread east wind was blowing
hard and raising great clouds of dust around us. The village had been
occupied about half a dozen times by the enemy and each time looted,
plundered, and evacuated, and was now again in our possession. At least,
the English had left it the day before, and a Landdrost had placed
himself in charge; a little Hollander with a pointed nose and small,
glittering eyes, who between each sentence that he spoke rolled round
those little eyes of his, carefully scanning the neighbouring hills for
any sign of the English. The only other person of importance in the town
was a worthy predicant, who evidently had not had his hair cut since the
(p. 365) commencement of the War, and who had great difficulty in
keeping his little black wide-awake on his head. He seemed very proud of
his abundant locks.

There were also a few families in the place belonging to the Red Cross
staff and in charge of the local hospitals. One of my adjutants was
seriously indisposed, and it was whilst hunting for a chemist in order
to obtain medicine that I came into contact with the town’s sparse
population. I found the dispensary closed, the proprietor having
departed with the English, and the Landdrost, fearing to get himself
into trouble, was not inclined to open it. He grew very excited when we
liberally helped ourselves to the medicines, and made himself
unpleasant. So we gave him clearly to understand that his presence was
not required in that immediate neighbourhood.

Our cart was standing waiting for us in the High Street, and during our
absence a lady had appeared on the verandah of a house and had sent a
servant to enquire who we were. When we reappeared laden with our booty
she (p. 366) graciously invited us to come in. She was a Mrs. P. de
Jager and belonged to the Red Cross Society. She asked us to stay and
have some dinner, which was then being prepared. Imagine what a luxury
for us to be once more in a house, to be addressed by a lady and to be
served with a bountiful repast! Our clothes were in a ragged and
dilapidated condition and we presented a very unkempt appearance, which
did not make us feel quite at our ease. Still the good lady with great
tact soon put us quite at home.

We partook of a delicious meal, which we shall not easily forget. I
cannot remember what the menu was, and I am not quite sure whether it
would compare favourably with a first-class café dinner, but I never
enjoyed a meal more in my existence, and possibly never shall.

After dinner the lady related to us how on the previous day, when the
British entered the village, there were in her house three convalescent
burghers, who could, however, neither ride nor walk. With tears in her
eyes she told us how an English doctor and (p. 367) an officer had come
there, and kicking open the doors of her neatly-kept house, had entered
it, followed by a crowd of soldiers, who had helped themselves to most
of the knives, forks, and other utensils. She tried to explain to the
doctor that she had wounded men in the house, but he was too conceited
and arrogant to listen to her protestations. Fortunately for them the
men were not discovered, for the English, on leaving the village, took
with them all our wounded, and even our doctor. With a proud smile she
now produced this trio, who, not knowing whether we were friend or foe,
were at first very much frightened.

I sympathised with the lady with respect to the harsh treatment she had
received the previous day, and thanking her for her great kindness,
warned her not to keep armed burghers in her house, as this was against
the Geneva Convention.

We told her what great pleasure it was for us to meet a lady, as all our
women having been placed in Concentration Camps, we had only had the
society of our fellow-burghers. (p. 368) Before leaving she grasped our
hands, and with tears in her eyes wished us God speed:—”Good-bye, my
friends! May God reward your efforts on behalf of your country. General,
be of good cheer; for however dark the future may seem, be sure that the
Almighty will provide for you!” I can scarcely be dubbed sentimental,
yet the genuine expressions of this good lady, coupled perhaps with her
excellent dinner, did much to put us into better spirits, and somehow
the future did not seem now quite so dark and terrible as we were
previously inclined to believe.

We soon resumed our journey, and that night arrived at a farm belonging
to a certain Venter. We knew that here some houses had escaped the
general destruction and we found that a dwelling house was still
standing and that the Venter family were occupying it. It was not our
practice to pass the night near inhabited houses, as that might have got
the people in trouble with the enemy, but having off-saddled, I sent up
an adjutant to the house to see if he could purchase a few eggs and milk
for our sick companions. He speedily returned (p. 369) followed by the
lady of the house in a very excited condition:—

“Are you the General?” she asked.

“I have that honour,” I replied. “What is the matter?”

“There is much the matter,” she retorted loudly. “I will have nothing to
do with you or your people. You are nothing but a band of brigands and
scoundrels, and you must leave my farm immediately. All respectable
people have long since surrendered, and it is only such people as you
who continue the War, while you personally are one of the ringleaders of
these rebels.”

“Tut, tut,” I said, “where is your husband?”

“My husband is where all respectable people ought to be; with the
English, of course.”

“‘Hands-uppers,’ is that it?” answered my men in chorus, even Mooiroos
the native joining in. “You deserve the D.S.O.,” I said, “and if we meet
the English we will mention it to them. Now go back to your house before
these rebels and brigands give you your deserts.”

(p. 370) She continued to pour out a flood of insults and imprecations
on myself, the other generals, and the Government, and finally went away
still muttering to herself. I could scarcely help comparing this
patriotic lady to the one in Ermelo who had treated us so kindly. I
encountered many more such incidents, and only mention these two in
order to show the different views held at that time by our women on
these matters, but in justice to our women-folk I should add that this
kind were only a small minority.

It was a bitterly cold night. Our blankets were very thin, and the wind
continually scattered our fire and gave us little opportunity of warming
ourselves. There was no food for the horses except the grass. We
haltered them close together, and each of us took it in turn to keep a
watch, as we ran the risk at any moment of being surprised by the enemy,
and as many in that district had turned traitors, we had to redouble our
precautions. During the whole cold night I slept but little, and I
fervently wished for the day to come, and felt exceedingly thankful
(p. 371) when the sun arose and it got a little warmer.

Proceeding, we crossed the ridges east of Bethel, and as this village
came in sight my groom Mooiroos exclaimed: “There are a lot of Khakis
there, Baas.”

I halted, and with my field-glasses could see distinctly the enemy’s
force, which was coming from Bethel in our direction, their scouts being
visible everywhere to the right and left of the ridges. While we were
still discussing what to do, the field-cornet of the district, a certain
Jan Davel, dashed up with a score of burghers between us and the
British. He informed me that the enemy’s forces were coming from
Brugspruit, and that he had scattered his burghers in all directions to
prevent them organizing any resistance. The enemy’s guns were now firing
at us, and although the range was a long one the ridges in which we
found ourselves were quite bare, and afforded us no cover.

We were therefore obliged to wheel to our right, and, proceeding to
Klein Spionkop, (p. 372) we passed round the enemy along Vaalkop and
Wilmansrust.

At Steenkoolspruit I met some burghers, who told me that the enemy had
marched from Springs, near Boksburg, and were making straight for our
commando at Kroomdraai. We managed to reach that place in the evening
just in time to warn our men and be off. I left a section of my men
behind to obstruct the advance of the enemy, whom they met the following
day, but finding the force too strong were obliged to retire, and I do
not know exactly where they got to. At this time there were no less than
nine of the enemy’s columns in that district, and they all tried their
level best to catch the Boers, but as the Boers also tried their best
not to get caught, I am afraid the English were often disappointed. Here
the reader will, perhaps, remark that it was not very brave to run away
in this fashion, but one should also take our circumstances into
consideration.

No sooner did we attack one column than we were attacked in our turn by
a couple more, and had then considerable difficulty in (p. 373)
effecting our escape. The enemy, moreover, had every advantage of us.
They had plenty of guns, and could cut our ranks to pieces before we
could approach sufficiently near to do any damage with our rifles; they
far surpassed us in numerical strength; they had a constant supply of
fresh horses—some of us had no horses at all; they had continual
reinforcements; their troops were well fed, better equipped, and
altogether in better condition. Small wonder, therefore, that the War
had become a one-sided affair.

On the 20th of May, 1901, I seized an opportunity of attacking General
Plumer on his way from Bethel to Standerton.

We had effected a junction with Commandant Mears and charged the enemy,
and but for their having with them a number of Boer families we would
have succeeded in capturing their whole laager. We had already succeeded
in driving their infantry away from the waggons containing these
families, when their infantry rushed in between and opened fire on us at
200 paces. We could do nothing else but return this fire, although it
was quite (p. 374) possible that in doing so we wounded one or two of
our own women and children. These kept waving their handkerchiefs to
warn us not to fire, but it was impossible to resist the infantry’s
volleys without shooting. Meanwhile the cavalry replaced their guns
behind the women’s waggons and fired on us from that coign of vantage.

Here we took 25 prisoners, 4,000 sheep and 10 horses. Our losses were
two killed and nine wounded. The enemy left several dead and wounded on
the field, as well as two doctors and an ambulance belonging to the
Queensland Imperial Bushmen, which we sent back together with the
prisoners we had taken.

On this occasion the English were spared a great defeat by having women
and children in their laager, and no doubt for the sake of safety they
kept these with them as long as possible. I do not insinuate that this
was generally the case, and I am sure that Lord Kitchener or any other
responsible commanding officer would loudly have condemned such tactics;
(p. 375) but the fact remains that these unpleasant incidents
occasionally took place.

About the beginning of June, 1901 (I find it difficult to be accurate
without the aid of my notes) another violent effort was made to capture
the members of the Government and the Commandant-General. Colonel Benson
now appeared as the new “Boer-stalker,” and after making several
unsuccessful attempts to surround them almost captured the Government in
the mountains between Piet Retief and Spitskop. Just as Colonel Benson
thought he had them safe and was slowly but surely weaving his net
around them—I believe this was at Halhangapase—the members of the
Government left their carriages, and packing the most necessary articles
and documents on their horses escaped in the night along a footpath
which the enemy had kindly left unguarded and passed right through the
British lines in the direction of Ermelo. On the following day the
English, on closing their cordon, found, as they usually did, naught but
the burned remains of some vehicles and a few lame mules.

(p. 376) Together with the late General Spruit, who happened to be in
that neighbourhood, I had been asked to march with a small commando to
the assistance of the Government and the Commandant-General and we had
started at once, only hearing when well on our way that they had
succeeded in escaping.

We proceeded as far as the Bankop, not knowing where to find them, and
it was no easy matter to look for them amongst the British columns.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 377) CHAPTER XXXVI.

A GOVERNMENT ON HORSEBACK.

For ten days we searched the neighbourhood, and finally met one of the
Commandant-General’s despatch-riders, who informed me of their
whereabouts, which they were obliged to keep secret for fear of
treachery. We met the whole party on William Smeet’s farm near the Vaal
River, every man on horseback or on a mule, without a solitary cart or
waggon. It was a very strange sight to see the whole Transvaal
Government on horseback. Some had not yet got used to this method of
governing, and they had great trouble with their luggage, which was
continually being dropped on the road.

General Spruit and myself undertook to escort the Executive Council
through the Ermelo district, past Bethel to Standerton, (p. 378) where
they were to meet the members of the Orange Free State Government. I had
now with me only 100 men, under Field-Cornet R. D. Young; the remainder
I had left behind near Bethel in charge of General Muller and
Commandants Viljoen and Groenwald, with instructions to keep on the
alert and to fall on any column that ventured a little ahead of the
others.

It was whilst on my way back to them that a burgher brought me a report
from General Muller, informing me that the previous night, assisted by
Commandants W. Viljoen and Groenwald, he had with 130 men stormed one of
the enemy’s camps at Wilmansrust, capturing the whole after a short
resistance on the enemy’s part, but sustaining a loss of six killed and
some wounded. The camp had been under the command of Colonel Morris, and
its garrison numbered 450 men belonging to the 5th Victorian Mounted
Rifles. About 60 of these were killed and wounded, and the remainder
were disarmed and released. Our haul consisted of two pom-poms, carts
and waggons with teams in harness, and about (p. 379) 300 horses, the
most miserable collection of animals I have ever seen. Here we also
captured a well-known burgher, whose name, I believe, was Trotsky, and
who was fighting with the enemy against us. He was brought before a
court-martial, tried for high treason, and sentenced to death, which
sentence was afterwards carried out.

Our Government received about this time a communication from General
Brits, that the members of the Orange Free State Government had reached
Blankop, north of Standerton, and would await us at Waterval. We hurried
thither, and reached it in the evening of the 20th of June, 1901. Here
we found President Steyn and Generals De Wet, De la Rey, and Hertzog,
with an escort of 150 men. It was very pleasant to meet these great
leaders again, and still more pleasing was the cordiality with which
they received us. We sat round our fires all that night relating to each
other our various adventures. Some which caused great fun and amusement,
and some which brought tears even to the eyes of the (p. 380) hardened
warrior. General De Wet was then suffering acutely from rheumatism, but
he showed scarcely any trace of his complaint, and was as cheerful as
the rest of us.

Next day we parted, each going separately on our way. We had decided
what each of us was to do, and under this agreement I was to return to
the Lydenburg and Middelburg districts, where we had already had such a
narrow escape. I confess I did not care much about this, but we had to
obey the Commandant-General, and there was an end of it. Meanwhile,
reports came in that on the other side of the railway the burghers who
had been left behind were surrendering day by day, and that a
field-cornet was engaged in negotiations with the enemy about a general
laying down of arms. I at once despatched General Muller there to put an
end to this.

We now prepared once more to cross the railway line, which was guarded
more carefully than ever, and no one dared to cross with a conveyance of
any description. We had, however, become possessed of a laager—a score
of waggons and two pom-poms—and I (p. 381) determined to take these
carts and guns across with me, for my men valued them all the more for
having been captured. They were, in fact, as sweet to us as stolen
kisses, although I have had no very large experience of the latter
commodity.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 382) CHAPTER XXXVII.

BLOWING UP AN ARMOURED TRAIN.

We approached the line between Balmoral and Brugspruit, coming as close
to it as was possible with regard to safety, and we stopped in a “dunk”
(hollow place) intending to remain there until dusk before attempting to
cross. The blockhouses were only 1,000 yards distant from each other,
and in order to take our waggons across there was but one thing to be
done, namely, to storm two blockhouses, overpower their garrisons, and
take our convoy across between these two. Fortunately there were no
obstacles here in the shape of embankments or excavations, the line
being level with the veldt. We moved on in the evening (the 27th of
June), the moon shining brightly, which was very unfortunate for us, as
the (p. 383) enemy would see us and hear us long before we came within
range. I had arranged that Commandant Groenwald was to storm the
blockhouse on the right, and Commandant W. Viljoen that to the left,
each with 75 men. We halted about 1,000 paces from the line, and here
the sections left their horses behind and marched in scattered order
towards the blockhouses. The enemy had been warned by telephone that
morning of our vicinity, and all the pickets and outposts along the line
were on the “qui vive.” When 150 yards from the blockhouses the garrison
opened fire on our men, and a hail of Lee-Metford bullets spread over a
distance of about four miles, the British soldiers firing from within
the blockhouses and from behind mounds of earth. The blockhouse attacked
by Commandant Viljoen offered the most determined resistance for about
twenty minutes, but our men thrust their rifles through the loopholes of
the blockhouses and fired within, calling out “hands-up” all the time,
whilst the “Tommies” within retorted, “You haven’t V.M.R.’s to deal with
this time!” However, (p. 384) we soon made it too hot for them and
their boasting was exchanged into cries of mercy, but not before three
of our men had been killed and several wounded. The “Tommies” now
shouted: “We surrender, Sir; for God’s sake stop firing.” My brave
field-cornet, G. Mybergh, who was closest to the blockhouses, answered:
“All right then, come out.” The “Tommies” answered: “Right, we are
coming,” and we ceased firing.

Field-Cornet Mybergh now stepped up to the entrance of the fort, but
when he reached it a shot was fired from the inside and he fell mortally
wounded in the stomach. At the same time the soldiers ran out holding up
their hands. Our burghers were enraged beyond measure at this act of
treachery, but the sergeant and the men swore by all that was sacred
that it had been an accident, and that a gun had gone off spontaneously
whilst being thrown down. The soldier who admitted firing the fatal shot
was crying like a baby and kissing the hands of his victim. We held a
short consultation amongst the officers and decided to accept his
explanation (p. 385) of the affair. I was much upset, however, by this
loss of one of the bravest officers I have ever known.

Meanwhile the fight at the other blockhouse continued. Commandant
Groenwald afterwards informed me that he had approached the blockhouse
and found it built of rock; it was, in fact, a fortified ganger’s house
built by the Netherlands South Africa Railway Company. He did not see
any way of taking the place; many of his men had fallen, and an armoured
train with a search-light was approaching from Brugspruit. On the other
side of the blockhouse we found a ditch about three feet deep and two
feet wide. Hastily filling this up we let the carts go over. As the
fifth one had got across and the sixth was standing on the lines, the
armoured train came dashing at full speed in our midst. We had had no
dynamite to blow up the line, and although we fired on the train, it
steamed right up to where we were crossing, smashing a team of mules and
splitting us up into two sections. Turning the search-light on us, the
enemy opened fire on us with rifles, Maxims (p. 386) and guns firing
grape-shot. Commandant Groenwald had to retire along the unconquered
blockhouse, and managed somehow to get through. The majority of the
burghers had already crossed and fled, whilst the remainder hurried back
with a pom-pom and the other carts. I did not expect that the train
would come so close to us, and was seated on my horse close to the
surrendered blockhouse when it pulled up abruptly not four paces from
me. The search-light made the surroundings as light as day, and revealed
the strange spectacle of the burghers, on foot and on horseback, fleeing
in all directions and accompanied by cattle and waggons, whilst many
dead lay on the veldt. However, we saved everything with the exception
of a waggon and two carts, one of which unfortunately was my own. Thus
for the fourth time in the war I lost all my worldly belongings, my
clothes, my rugs, my food, my money.

My two commandants were now south of the line with half the men, whilst
I was north of it with the other half. We buried our dead (p. 387) next
morning and that evening I sent a message to the remainder of the
commandos, telling them to cross the line at Uitkijk Station, south-west
of Middelburg, whilst Captain Hindon was to lay a mine under the line
near the station to blow up any armoured train coming down. Here we
managed to get the rest of our laager over without much trouble. The
“Tommies” fired furiously from the blockhouses and our friend the
armoured train was seen approaching from Middelburg, whistling a
friendly warning to us. It came full speed as before, but only got to
the spot where the mine had been laid for it. There was a loud
explosion; something went up in the air and then the shrill whistle
stopped and all was silent.

The next morning we were all once more camped together at Rooihoogte.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 388) CHAPTER XXXVIII.

TRAPPING PRO-BRITISH BOERS.

In the month of July, 1901, we found ourselves once more on the scene of
our former struggles, and were joined here by General Muller, who had
completed his mission south of the railway. This district having been
scoured for three weeks by thirty thousand English soldiers, who had
carefully removed and destroyed everything living or dead, one can
imagine the conditions under which we had to exist. No doubt from a
strategical point of view the enemy could not be expected to do
otherwise than devastate the country, but what grieved us most was the
great amount of suffering this entailed to our women and children. Often
the waggons in which these (p. 389) were being carried to imprisonment
in the Concentration Camps were upset by the unskilful driving of the
soldiers or their kaffir servants, and many women and children were
injured in this way.

Moreover, a certain Mrs. Lindeque was killed by an English bullet near
Roos Senekal, the soldiers saying that she had passed through the
outposts against instructions. Small wonder, therefore, that many of our
women-folk fled with their children at the enemy’s approach, leaving all
their worldly possessions behind to fall a prey to the general
destruction. We often came across such families in the greatest
distress, some having taken shelter in caves, and others living in huts
roughly constructed of half-burnt corrugated iron amongst the charred
ruins of their former happy homes. The sufferings of our half-clad and
hungry burghers were small compared to the misery and privations of
these poor creatures. Their husbands and other relations, however, made
provision for them to the best of their ability, and these families
were, in spite of all, (p. 390) comparatively happy, so long as they
were able to remain amongst their own people.

Our commandos were now fairly exhausted, and our horses needed a rest
very badly, the wanderings of the previous few weeks having reduced them
to a miserable condition. I therefore left General Muller near the
cobalt mines on the Upper Olifant’s River, just by the waggon drift,
whilst I departed with 100 men and a pom-pom to Witpoort and Windhoek,
there to collect my scattered burghers and reorganise my diminished
commando, as well as to look after our food supplies. At Witpoort the
burghers who had been under the late Field-Cornet Kruge, and had escaped
the enemy’s sweeping movements, had repaired the mill which the English
had blown up, and this was now working as well as before. A good stock
of mealies had been buried there, and had remained undiscovered, and we
were very thankful to the “bush-lancers” for this bounty.

Still, things were not altogether “honey.” Matters were rather in a
critical state, as treachery was rampant, and many burghers (p. 391)
were riding to and fro to the enemy and arranging to surrender, the
faithful division being powerless to prevent them. We had to act with
great firmness and determination to put a stop to these tendencies and
within a week of our arrival half a dozen persons had been incarcerated
in Roos Senekal gaol under a charge of high treason. Moreover we
effected a radical change in leadership, discharging old and war-sick
officers and placing younger and more energetic men in command.

Several families here were causing considerable trouble. When first the
enemy had passed through their district they had had no opportunity of
surrendering with their cattle. But when the English returned, they had
attempted to go to the enemy’s camp at Belfast, taking all their cattle
and moveables with them. At this the loyal burghers were furious and
threatened to confiscate all their cattle and goods. Seeing this, these
families, whom I shall call the Steenkamps, had desisted from their
attempt to go over to the enemy and had taken up their abode in a church
at Dullstroom, the only building which had not (p. 392) been destroyed,
although the windows, doors and pulpit had long disappeared. Here they
quietly awaited an opportunity of surrendering to the enemy, whose camp
at Belfast was only 10 or 12 miles distant. We were very anxious that
their cattle and sheep, of which they had a large number, should not go
to the enemy, but we could bring no charge of treachery home to them, as
they were very smooth-tongued scoundrels and always swore fealty to us.

I have mentioned this as an example of the dangerous elements with which
we had to contend amongst our own people, and to show how low a Boer may
sink when once he has decided to forego his most sacred duties and turn
against his own countrymen the weapon he had lately used in their
defence. Such men were luckily in the minority. Yet I often came across
cases where fathers fought against their own sons, and brother against
brother. I cannot help considering that it was far from noble on the
part of our enemy to employ such traitors to their country and to form
such bodies of scoundrels as the National Scouts.

(p. 393) Amongst all this worry of reorganising our commandos and
weeding out the traitors we were allowed little rest by the enemy, and
once we suddenly found them marching up from Helvetia in our direction.
A smart body of men, chiefly composed of Lydenburg and Middelburg men,
and under the command of a newly-appointed officer, Captain Du Toit,
went to meet the enemy between Bakendorp and Dullstroom. Here ensued a
fierce fight, where we lost some men, but succeeded in arresting the
enemy’s progress. The fight, however, was renewed the next day, and the
British having received strong reinforcements our burghers were forced
to retire, the enemy remaining at a place near the “Pannetjes,” three
miles from Dullstroom.

The English camp was now close to our friends, the Steenkamps, who were
anxiously waiting an opportunity to become “hands-uppers.” They had, of
course, left off fighting long ago, one complaining that he had a
disease of the kidneys, another that he suffered from some other
complaint. They would sit on the kopjes and watch the fighting and the
(p. 394) various manœuvres, congratulating each other when the enemy
approached a little nearer to them.

I will now ask the reader’s indulgence to describe one of our little
practical jokes enacted at Dullstroom Church, which was characteristic
of many other similar incidents in the Campaign. It will be seen how
these would-be “hands-uppers” were caught in a little trap prepared by
some officers of my staff.

My three adjutants, Bester, Redelinghuisen, and J. Viljoen, carefully
dressed in as much “khaki” as they could collect, and parading
respectively as Colonels Bullock, “Jack,” and “Cooper,” all of His
Majesty’s forces, proceeded one fine evening to Dullstroom Church, to
ascertain if the Steenkamps would agree to surrender and fight under the
British flag. They arrived there about 9 p.m., and finding that the
inmates had all gone to sleep, loudly knocked at the door. This was
opened by a certain youthful Mr. Van der Nest, who was staying in the
church for the night with his brother. J. Viljoen, alias “Cooper,” and
acting as interpreter between the pseudo-English (p. 395) and the
renegade Boers, addressed the young man in this fashion:—

“Good evening! Is Mr. Steenkamp in? Here is a British officer who wishes
to see him and his brother-in-law.”

Van der Nest turned pale, and hurried inside, and stammering, “Oom Jan,
there are some people at the door,” woke up his brother and both
decamped out of the back door. Steenkamp’s brother-in-law, however, whom
I will call Roux, soon made his appearance and bowing cringingly, said
with a smile:—

“Good evening, gentlemen; good evening.”

The self-styled Colonel Bullock, addressing “Cooper,” the interpreter,
said: “Tell Mr. Roux that we have information that he and his brother
wish to surrender.”

As soon as “Cooper” began to interpret, Roux answered in broken English,
“Yes, sir, you are quite right; myself and my brother-in-law have been
waiting twelve months for an opportunity to surrender, and we are so
thankful now that we are able to do so.”

“Colonel Bullock”: “Very well, then; call your people out!”

(p. 396) Roux bowed low, and ran back into the church, presently issuing
with three comrades, who all threw down their arms and made abeyance.

The “Colonel”: “Are these men able to speak English?”

Roux: “No, sir.”

The “Colonel”: “Ask them if they are willing to surrender voluntarily
to His Majesty the King of Great Britain?”

The burghers, in chorus: “Yes, sir; thank you very much. We are so
pleased that you have come at last. We have wished to surrender for a
long time, but the Boers would not let us get through. We have not
fought against you, sir.”

The “Colonel”: “Very well; now deliver up all your arms.”

And whilst the pseudo-colonel pretended to be busy making notes the
burghers brought out their Mausers and cartridge-belts, handing them
over to the masquerading “Tommies.”

Roux next said to the “Colonel”: “Please, sir, may I keep this revolver?
There are a few Hollanders in the hut yonder who said (p. 397) they
would shoot me if I surrendered; and you know, sir, that it is these
Hollanders who urge the Boers to fight and prolong the War. Why don’t
you go and catch them? I will show you where they are.”

Resisting an impulse to put a bullet through the traitor’s head, the
“Colonel” answered briefly: “Very well, keep your revolver. I will catch
the Hollanders early to-morrow.”

Roux: “Be careful, sir; Ben Viljoen is over there with a commando and
a pom-pom.”

The “Colonel” (haughtily): “Be at ease; my column will soon be round
him and he will not escape this time.”

The women-folk now came out to join the party. They clapped their hands
in joy and invited the “Colonel” and his men to come in and have some
coffee.

The “Colonel” graciously returned thanks. Meanwhile a woman had
whispered to Roux: “I hope these are not Ben Viljoen’s people making
fools of us.”

“Nonsense,” he answered, “Can’t you see that this is a very superior
British officer?” (p. 398) Whereat the whole company further expressed
their delight at seeing them.

The “Colonel” now spoke: “Mr. Roux, we will take your cattle and sheep
with us for safety. Kindly lend us a servant to help drive them along.
Will you show us to-morrow where the Boers are?”

Mr. Roux: “Certainly, sir, but you must not take me into dangerous
places, please.”

The “Colonel”: “Very well; I will send the waggons to fetch your
women-folk in the morning.”

Roux gathered together his cattle and said: “I hope you and I shall have
a whiskey together in your camp to-morrow.”

The “Colonel” answered: “I shall be pleased to see you,” and asked them
if they had any money or valuables they wished taken care of. But the
Boers, true to the saying, “Touch a Boer’s heart rather than his purse,”
answered in chorus: “Thank you, but we have put all that carefully away
where no Boer will find it.”

They all bid the “Colonel” good-bye, the “Tommies” exchanging some
familiarities (p. 399) with the women till these screamed with
laughter, and then the “Colonel” and his commando of two men remounted
their big clumsy English horses and rode proudly away. But pride comes
before a fall, and they had not proceeded many yards when the
“Colonel’s” horse, stumbling over a bundle of barbed wire, fell, and
threw his rider to the ground. Just as he had nearly exhausted the Dutch
vocabulary of imprecations, the Steenkamps, who fortunately had not
heard him, came to his assistance and with many expressions of sympathy
helped him on his horse, Roux carefully wiping his leggings clean with
his handkerchief. After proceeding a little further the “Tommies” asked
their “Colonel” what he meant by that acrobatic performance. Whereat the
“Colonel” answered: “That was a very fortunate accident; the Steenkamps
are now convinced that we are English by the clumsy manner I rode.”

The next morning my three adjutants arrived in camp carrying four new
Mausers and 100 cartridges each, and driving about (p. 400) 300 sheep
and a nice pony. The same morning I sent Field-Cornet Young to arrest
the brave quartette of burghers. He found everything packed in readiness
to depart to the English camp, and they were anxiously awaiting Colonel
Bullock’s promised waggons.

It was, of course, a fine “tableau” when the curtain rose on the farce,
disclosing in the place of the expected English rescuers a burgher
officer with a broad smile on his face. They were, of course, profuse in
their apologies and excuses. They declared that they had been surrounded
by hundreds of the enemy who had placed their rifles to their breasts,
forcing them to surrender. One of them was now in so pitiable a
condition of fear that he showed the field-cornet a score of
certificates from doctors and quacks of all sorts, declaring him to be
suffering from every imaginable disease, and the field-cornet was moved
to leave him behind. The other three were placed under arrest,
court-martialled and sentenced to three months’ hard labour, and to have
all their goods confiscated.

(p. 401) Two days later the English occupied Dullstroom, and the
pseudo-invalid and the women, minus their belongings, were taken care of
by the enemy, as they had wished.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 402) CHAPTER XXXIX.

BRUTAL KAFFIRS’ MURDER TRAIL.

At Windhoek we were again attacked by an English column. The reader will
probably be getting weary of these continual attacks, and I hasten to
assure him that we were far more weary than he can ever grow. On the
first day of the fight we succeeded in forcing back the enemy, but on
the second day, the fortunes of war were changed and after a fierce
fight, in which I had the misfortune to lose a brave young burgher named
Botha, we gave up arguing the matter with our foes and retired.

The enemy followed us up very closely, and although I used the sjambok
freely amongst my men I could not persuade them, not even by this
ungentle method, to make a stand against their foes, and as we passed
Witpoort (p. 403) the enemy’s cavalry with two guns was close at our
heels.

Not until the burghers had reached Maagschuur, between the Bothas and
Tautesbergen, would they condescend to make a stand and check the
enemy’s advance. Here after a short but sharp engagement, we forced them
to return to Witpoort, where they pitched camp.

Our mill, which I have previously mentioned as being an important source
of our food supply, was again burned to the ground.

Our commandos returned to Olifant’s River and at the cobalt mine near
there joined those who had remained behind under General Muller. The
enemy, however, who seemed determined, if possible, to obliterate us
from the earth’s surface, discovered our whereabouts about the middle of
July, and attacked us in overwhelming numbers. We had taken up a
position on the “Randts,” and offered as much resistance as we could.
The enemy poured into us a heavy shell fire from their howitzers and
15-pounders, while their infantry charged both our extreme flanks. After
(p. 404) losing many men, a battalion of Highlanders succeeded in
turning our left flank, and once having gained this advantage, and aided
by their superior numbers, the enemy were able to take up position after
position, and finally rendered it impossible to offer any further
resistance. Late in the afternoon, with a loss of five wounded and one
man killed—an Irish-American, named Wilson—we retired through the
Olifant’s River, near Mazeppa Drift, the enemy staying the night at
Wagendrift, about three miles further up the stream. The following
morning they forded the river, and proceeded through Poortjesnek and
Donkerhoek, to Pretoria, thus allowing us a little breathing space. I
now despatched some reliable burghers to report our various movements to
the Commandant-General, and to bring news of the other commandos. It was
three weeks before these men returned, for they had on several occasions
been prevented from crossing the railway line, and they finally only
succeeded in doing so under great difficulties. They reported that the
English on the high veldt were very active and numerous.

(p. 405) About the middle of July I left General Muller to take a rest
with the commando, and accompanied by half a score of adjutants and
despatch riders, proceeded to Pilgrimsrust in the Lydenburg district to
visit the commandos there, and allay as much as I could the
dissatisfaction caused by my reorganisation.

At Zwagerhoek, a kloof some 12 miles south of Lydenburg, through which
the waggon track leads from Lydenburg to Dullstroom, I found a
field-cornet with about 57 men. Having discussed the situation with them
and explained matters, they were all satisfied.

Here I appointed as field-cornet a young man of 23 years of age, a
certain J. S. Schoenman, who distinguished himself subsequently by his
gallant behaviour.

We had barely completed our arrangements when we were again attacked by
one of the enemy’s columns from Lydenburg. At first we successfully
defended ourselves, but at last were compelled to give way.

I do not believe we caused the enemy any considerable losses, but we had
no casualties. (p. 406) The same night we proceeded through the enemy’s
line to Houtboschloop, five miles east of Lydenburg, where a small
commando was situated, and having to proceed a very roundabout way, we
covered that night no less than 40 miles.

Another meeting of all burghers north of Lydenburg was now convened, to
be held at a ruined hotel some 12 miles west of Nelspruit Station, which
might have been considered the centre of all the commandos in that
district. I found that these were divided into two parties, one of which
was dissatisfied with the new order of things I had arranged and desired
to re-instate their old officers, while the other was quite pleased with
my arrangements. The latter party was commanded by Mr. Piet Moll, whom I
had appointed commandant instead of Mr. D. Schoeman, who formerly used
to occupy that position. At the gathering I explained matters to them
and tried to persuade the burghers to be content with their new
commandants. It was evident, however, that many were not to be satisfied
and that they were not to be expected to work harmoniously together.
(p. 407) I therefore decided to let both commandants keep their
positions and to let the men follow whichever one they chose, and I took
the first opportunity of making an attack on the enemy so as to test the
efficiency of these two bodies.

Taking the two commandos with their respective two commandants in an
easterly direction to Wit River, we camped there for a few days and
scouted for the enemy on the Delagoa Bay Railway, so as to find out the
best spot to attack. We had just decided to attack Crocodilpoort Station
in the evening of the 1st August, when our scouts reported that the
English, who had held the fort at M’pisana’s Stad, between our laager in
Wit River and Leydsdorp, were moving in the direction of Komati Poort
with a great quantity of captured cattle.

Our first plan was therefore abandoned and I ordered 50 burghers of each
commando to attack this column at M’pisana’s fort at once, as they had
done far too much harm to be allowed to get away unmolested. They were a
group of men called “Steinacker’s (p. 408) Horse,” a corps formed of
all the desperadoes and vagabonds to be scraped together from isolated
places in the north, including kaffir storekeepers, smugglers, spies,
and scoundrels of every description, the whole commanded by a character
of the name of ——. Who or what this gentleman was I have never been
able to discover, but judging by his work and by the men under him, he
must have been a second Musolino. This corps had its headquarters at
Komati Poort, under Major Steinacker, to whom was probably entrusted the
task of guarding the Portuguese frontier, and he must have been given
carte blanche as regards his mode of operation.

From all accounts the primary occupation of this corps appeared to be
looting, and the kaffirs attached to it were used for scouting,
fighting, and worse. Many families in the northern part of Lydenburg had
been attacked in lonely spots, and on one occasion the white men on one
of these marauding expeditions had allowed the kaffirs to murder ten
defenceless people with their (p. 409) assegais and hatchets, capturing
their cattle and other property. In like manner were massacred the
relatives of Commandants Lombard, Vermaak, Rudolf and Stoltz, and
doubtless many others who were not reported to me. The reader will now
understand my anxiety to put some check on these lawless brigands. The
instructions to the commando which I had sent out, and which would reach
M’pisana’s in two days, were briefly to take the fort and afterwards do
as circumstances dictated. If my men failed they would have the
desperadoes pursue them on their swift horses, and all the kaffir tribes
would conspire against us, so that none would escape on our side. A
kaffir was generally understood to be a neutral person in this War, and
unless found armed within our lines, with no reasonable excuse for his
presence, we generally left him alone. They were, however, largely used
as spies against us, keeping to their kraals in the daytime and issuing
forth at night to ascertain our position and strength. They also made
good guides for the English troops, who often had not the (p. 410)
faintest idea of the country in which they were. It must not be
forgotten that when a kaffir is given a rifle he at once falls a prey to
his brutal instincts, and his only amusement henceforth becomes to kill
without distinction of age, colour, or sex. Several hundreds of such
natives, led by white men, were roaming about in this district, and all
that was captured, plundered or stolen was equally divided among them,
25 per cent. being first deducted for the British Government.

I have indulged in this digression in order to describe another phase
with which we had to contend in our struggle for existence. I have
reason to believe, however, that the British Commander-in-Chief, for
whom I have always had the greatest respect, was not at that time aware
of the remarkable character of these operations, carried on as they were
in the most remote parts of the country; and there is no doubt that had
he been aware of their true character he would have speedily brought
these miscreants to justice.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 411) CHAPTER XL.

CAPTURING A FREEBOOTER’S LAIR.

Early in the morning of the 6th of August, as the breaking dawn was
tinting the tops of the Lebombo Mountains with its purple dye and the
first rays of the rising sun shed its golden rays over the sombre
bushveldt, the commando under Commandants Moll and Schoeman were slowly
approaching the dreaded M’pisana’s fort. When within a few hundred paces
of it they left the horses behind and slowly crept up to it in scattered
order; for as none of us knew the arrangement or construction of the
place, it had been arranged to advance very cautiously and to charge
suddenly on the blowing of a whistle. Nothing was stirring in the fort
as we approached, and we began to think that the garrison had departed;
but when barely (p. 412) 70 yards from it the officers noticed some
forms moving about in the trenches, which encompassed it. The whistle
was blown and the burghers charged, a cheer rising from a hundred
throats. Volley after volley was discharged from the trenches, but our
burghers rushed steadily on, jumped into the trenches themselves and
drove the defenders into the fort through secret passages. The English
now began firing on us through loopholes in the walls and several of our
men had fallen, when Commandant Moll shouted, “Jump over the wall!” A
group of burghers rushed at the 12-foot wall, and attempted to scale it;
but a heavy fire was directed on them and seven burghers, including the
valiant Commandant Moll, fell severely wounded. Nothing daunted, Captain
Malan, who was next in command of the division, urged his men to go on,
and most of them succeeded in jumping into the fort, where, after a
desperate resistance, in which Captain ——, their leader, fell mortally
wounded, the whole band surrendered to us. Our losses were six burghers
killed, whilst Commandant Moll and 12 others were (p. 413) severely
wounded. The burghers found one white man killed in the fort, and two
wounded, whilst a score of kaffirs lay wounded and dead. We took 24
white prisoners and about 50 kaffirs. I repeat that the whites were the
lowest specimens of humanity that one can possibly imagine.

Hardly was the fight over and our prisoners disarmed when a sentry we
had posted on the wall called out:

“Look out, there is a kaffir commando coming!”

It was, in fact, a strong kaffir commando, headed by the chief M’pisana
himself, who had come to the rescue of his friends of Steinacker’s
Horse. They opened fire on us at about 100 yards, and the burghers
promptly returned their greeting, bowling over a fair number of them, at
which the remainder retired.

Alongside the fort were about 20 small huts, in which we found a number
of kaffir girls. On being asked who they were, they repeated that they
were the “missuses” of the white soldiers. Inside the captured fort we
found (p. 414) many useful articles, and the official books of this
band. They contained systematic entries of what had been plundered,
looted and stolen on their marauding expeditions and showed how they had
been divided amongst themselves, deducting 25 per cent. for the British
Government.

A long and extensive correspondence now took place about this matter
between myself and Lord Kitchener. I wished first to know whether the
gang was a recognised part of the British Army, as otherwise I should
have to treat them as ordinary brigands. After some delay Lord Kitchener
answered that they were a part of His Majesty’s Army. I then wished to
know if he would undertake to try the men for their misdeeds, but this
was refused. This correspondence ultimately led to a meeting between
General Bindon Blood and myself, which was held at Lydenburg on the 27th
August, 1901.

The captured kaffirs were tried by court-martial and each punished
according to his deserts. The 24 Englishmen were handed over to the
enemy, after having given their (p. 415) word of honour not to return
to their barbarous life. How far this promise was kept I do not know;
but from the impression they made upon me I do not think they had much
idea of what honour meant. The captured cattle which we had hoped to
find at the fort had been sent away to Komati Poort a few days before
our attack and according to their “books” it must have numbered about
4,000 heads. Another section of this notorious corps met with a like
fate about this time at Bremersdorp in Swaziland. They did not there
offer such a determined resistance, and the Ermelo burghers captured two
good Colt-Maxims and two loads of ammunition probably intended for
Swaziland natives.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 416) CHAPTER XLI.

AMBUSHING THE HUSSARS.

On August 10th, shortly after our arrival with the prisoners-of-war at
Sabi, and while I was still discussing with Lord Kitchener the incident
related in the previous chapter, General Muller sent word to me from
Olifant’s River, where I had left him with my men, that he had been
attacked by General W. Kitchener three days after I had left him. It
appears that his sentries were surprised and cut off from the commandos,
these being divided into different camps.

The burghers who were farthest away, the Middelburg and Johannesburg
men, had, contrary to my instructions, pitched camp on the Blood River,
near Rooikraal, and were suddenly and unexpectedly attacked by the
(p. 417) enemy at about two o’clock in the afternoon, whilst their
horses were grazing in the veldt. Some horses were caught in time and
some burghers offered a little resistance, firing at a short range,
several men being killed on both sides. The confusion, however, was
indescribable, horses, cattle, burghers and soldiers being all mixed up
together. A pom-pom, together with its team of mules and harness, and
most of the carts and saddles, were captured by the enemy. Our officers
could not induce the men to make a determined stand until they had
retired to the Mazeppa Drift, on the Olifant’s River. Here General
Muller arrived in the night with some reinforcements and awaited the
enemy, who duly appeared next morning with a division of the 18th and
19th Hussars, and, encouraged by the previous day’s success, charged our
men with a well-directed fire which wrought havoc in their ranks. The
gallant Hussars were repulsed in one place, and, at another, Major
Davies (or Davis) and 20 men were made prisoners. At last some guns and
reinforcements reached the (p. 418) enemy, and our burghers wisely
retired, going as far as Eland’s River, near the “Double Drifts,” where
they rested.

On the third day General W. Kitchener had discovered our whereabouts,
and our sentries gave us warning that the enemy was approaching through
the bushes, raising great clouds of dust. While the waggons were being
got ready the burghers marched out, and awaited the English in a
convenient spot between two kopjes. The latter rode on unsuspectingly
two by two, and when about 100 had been allowed to pass, our men rushed
out, calling, “Hands up!” and, catching hold of their horses’ bridles,
disarmed about 30 men. This caused an immediate panic, and most of the
Hussars fled (closely pursued by our burghers, who shot 10 or 12 of
them). The Hussars left behind a Colt-Maxim and a heliograph for our
usage. The ground was overgrown here with a prickly, thorny bush, which
made it difficult for our foes to escape, and about 20 more were
overtaken and caught, several having been dragged from their horses by
protruding branches, and with their face and (p. 419) hands badly
injured by thorns, whilst their clothes were half torn off their bodies.

Meanwhile the enemy continued to fire on us whilst retreating, and thus
succeeded in wounding several of their own people. This running fight
lasted until late in the evening, when the burghers slackened off their
pursuit and returned, their losses being only one killed, Lieut. D.
Smit, of the Johannesburg Police. The enemy’s losses were considerable,
although one could not estimate the exact number, as the dead were
scattered over a large tract of ground and hidden amongst the bushes,
rendering it difficult to find them. Weeks afterwards, when we returned
over the same ground, we still found some bodies lying about the bush,
and gave them decent burial.

Our burghers were now once more in possession of 100 fresh horses and
saddles, whilst their pom-pom was replaced by a Colt-Maxim. General W.
Kitchener now left us alone for a while, for which relief we were very
thankful, and fell back on the railway line. The respite, however, was
short-lived; (p. 420) soon fresh columns were seen coming up from
Middelburg and Pretoria, and we were again attacked, some fighting
taking place mostly on our old battlefields. General Muller repeatedly
succeeded in tearing up the railway line and destroying trains with
provisions, whilst I had the good fortune of capturing a commissariat
train, near Modelane, on the Delagoa Bay line; but, as I could not
remove the goods, I was forced to burn the whole lot. A train,
apparently with reinforcements, was also blown up, the engine and
carriages going up in the air with fine effect.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 421) CHAPTER XLII.

I TALK WITH GENERAL BLOOD.

About the end of August, 1901, I met General Sir Bindon Blood at
Lydenburg by appointment. We had arranged to discuss several momentous
questions there, as we made little progress by correspondence. In the
first place, we accused the English of employing barbarous kaffir tribes
against us; in the second place, of abusing the usage of the white flag
by repeatedly sending officers through our lines with seditious
proclamations which we would not recognise, and we could only obey our
own Government and not theirs; in the third place, we complained of
their sending our women with similar proclamations to us from the
Concentration Camps and making them solemnly promise to do all that they
could to induce their husbands to (p. 422) surrender and thus regain
their liberty. This we considered was a rather mean device on the part
of our powerful enemy. There was also other minor questions to discuss
with regard to the Red Cross.

I went into the English line accompanied by my adjutants, Nel and
Bedeluighuis, and my secretary, Lieutenant W. Malan. At Potloodspruit,
four miles from Lydenburg, I met General Blood’s chief staff officer,
who conducted us to him. At the entrance of the village a guard of
honour had been placed and received us with military honours. I could
not understand the meaning of all this fuss, especially as the streets
through which we passed were lined with all sorts of spectators, and to
my great discomfort I found myself the chief object of this interest. On
every side I heard the question asked, “Which is Viljoen?” and, on my
being pointed out, I often caught the disappointed answer, “Is that
him?” “By Jove, he looks just like other people.” They had evidently
expected to see a new specimen of mankind.

In the middle of the village we halted before (p. 423) a small, neat
house, which I was told was General Blood’s headquarters. The General
himself met us on the threshold; a well-proportioned, kindly-looking man
about 50 years of age, evidently a genuine soldier and an Irishman, as I
soon detected by his speech. He received us very courteously, and as I
had little time at my disposal, we at once entered into our discussion.
It would serve little purpose to set down all the details of our
interview, especially as nothing final was decided, since whatever the
General said was subject to Lord Kitchener’s approval, whilst I myself
had to submit everything to my Commandant-General. General Blood
promised, however, to stop sending out the women with their
proclamations, and also the officers on similar missions, and the Red
Cross question was also satisfactorily settled. The kaffir question,
however, was left unsettled, although General Blood promised to warn the
kaffir tribes round Lydenburg not to interfere in the War and not to
leave the immediate vicinity of their kraals. (Only the night before two
burghers named Swart had (p. 424) been murdered at Doorukoek by some
kaffirs, who pretended to have done this by order of the English). The
interview lasted about an hour, and besides us two, Colonel Curran and
my secretary, Lieutenant Malan, were present. General Blood and his
staff conducted us as far as Potloodspruit, where we took leave. The
white flag was replaced by the rifle, and we returned to our respective
duties.

Going in under the White Flag to a Conference with
General Blood at Lydenburg.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 425) CHAPTER XLIII.

MRS. BOTHA’S BABY AND THE “TOMMY.”

In September, 1901, after having organized the commandos north of
Lydenburg, I went back with my suite to join my burghers at Olifant’s
River, which I reached at the beginning of September. The enemy had left
General Muller alone after the affair with the Hussars. Reports were
coming in from across the railway informing us that much fighting was
going on in the Orange Free State and Cape Colony, and that the burghers
were holding their own. This was very satisfactory news to us,
especially as we had not received any tidings for over a month. I again
sent in a report to our Commandant-General relating my adventures.

We had much difficulty in getting the necessary food for the commandos,
the enemy (p. 426) having repeatedly crossed the country between Roos
Senekal, Middelburg, and Rhenosterkop, destroying and ravaging
everything. I therefore resolved to split up my forces, the corps known
by the name of the “Rond Commando” taking one portion through the
enemy’s lines to Pilgrimsrust, North of Lydenburg, where food was still
abundant. Fighting-General Muller was left behind with the Boksburg
Police and the Middelburg Commando, the Johannesburg corps going with me
to Pilgrim’s Rest, where I had my temporary headquarters. We had plenty
of mealies in this district and also enough cattle to kill, so that we
could manage to subsist on these provisions. We had long since dispensed
with tents, but the rains in the mountain regions of Pilgrim’s Rest and
the Sabi had compelled us to find the burghers shelter. At the alluvial
diggings at Pilgrim’s Rest we found a great quantity of galvanized iron
plates and deals, which, when cut into smaller pieces, could be used for
building. We found a convenient spot in the mountains between Pilgrim’s
Rest and Kruger’s Post, where some hundreds of iron or zinc (p. 427)
huts were soon erected, affording excellent cover for the burghers.

Patrols were continually sent out round Lydenburg, and whenever possible
we attacked the enemy, keeping him well occupied. We succeeded in
getting near his outposts from time to time and occasionally capturing
some cattle. This seemed to be very galling to the English, and towards
the end of September we found they were receiving reinforcements at
Lydenburg. This had soon become a considerable force, in fact in
November they crossed the Spekboom River in great numbers, and at
Kruger’s Post came upon our outposts, when there was some fighting. The
enemy did not go any further that night. The following day we had to
leave these positions and the other side took them and camped there.
Next day they moved along Ohrigstad River with a strong mounted force
and a good many empty waggons, evidently to collect the women-folk in
that place. I had to proceed by a circuitous route in order to get ahead
of the enemy. The road led across a steep mountain and through thickly
grown kloofs, which prevented (p. 428) us from reaching the enemy until
they had burnt all the houses, destroyed the seed plants, and loaded the
families on their carts, after which they withdrew to the camp at
Kruger’s Post. We at once charged the enemy’s rearguard, and a heavy
fight followed, which, however, was of short duration. The English fled,
leaving some dead and wounded behind, also some dozens of helmets and
“putties” which had got entangled in the trees. We also captured a
waggon loaded with provisions and things that had been looted, such as
women’s clothes and rugs, a case of Lee-Metford ammunition and a number
of uniforms. Some days after the enemy tried to get through to Pilgrim’s
Rest, but had to retire before our rifle fire. They managed, however, to
get to Roosenkrans, where a fight of only some minutes ensued, when they
retired to Kruger’s Post. They only stopped there for a few days,
marching back to Lydenburg at night time just when we had carefully
planned a night attack. We destroyed the Spekboom River bridge shortly
after, thus preventing the enemy’s return from Lydenburg to Kruger’s
(p. 429) Post in a single night. Although there is a drift through the
river it cannot be passed in the dark without danger, especially with
guns and carts, without which no English column will march. Every
fortnight I personally proceeded with my adjutants through the enemy’s
lines near Lydenburg to see how the commando in the South were getting
on and to arrange matters.

The month of November, 1901, passed without any remarkable incidents. We
organized some expeditions to the Delagoa Bay Railway, but without much
success, and during one of these the burghers succeeded in laying a mine
near Hector’s Spruit Station during the night. They were lying in ambush
next day waiting for a train to come along when a “Tommy” went down the
line and noticed some traces of the ground having been disturbed which
roused his suspicions. He saw the mine and took the dynamite out. Two
burghers who were lying in the long grass shouted “Hands up.” Tommy
threw his rifle down and with his hands up in the air ran up to the
burghers saying, before they could speak, “I say, did (p. 430) you hear
the news that Mrs. Botha gave birth to a son in Europe?”

They could not help laughing, and the “Tommy,” looking very innocent,
answered:

“I am not telling you a fib.”

One of the burghers coaxed him by telling him they did not doubt his
word, only the family news had come so prematurely.

“Well,” returned “Tommy,” “Oi thought you blokes would be interested in
your boss’s family, that’s why I spoke.”

The courteous soldier was sent back with instructions to get some better
clothes, for those he had on his back were all torn and dirty and they
were not worth taking.

The expedition was now a failure, for the enemy had been warned and the
sentries were doubled along the line.

In December, 1901, we tried an attack on a British convoy between
Lydenburg and Machadodorp. I took a mounted commando and arrived at
Schvemones Cleft after four days’ marching through the Sabinek via Cham
Sham, an arduous task, as we had to go over the mountains and through
some rivers. (p. 431) Some of my officers went out scouting in order to
find the best place for an attack on the convoy. The enemy’s blockhouses
were found to be so close together on the road along which the convoy
had to pass as to make it very difficult to get at it. But having come
such a long way nobody liked to go back without having at least made an
effort. We therefore marched during the night and found some hiding
places along the road where we waited, ready to charge anything coming
along. At dawn next day I found the locality to be very little suitable
for the purpose we had in view, but if we were now to move the enemy
would notice our presence from the blockhouses. We would, therefore,
either have to lie low till dusk or make an attack after all. We had
already captured several of the enemy’s spies, whom we kept prisoners so
as not to be betrayed. Towards the afternoon the convoy came by and we
charged on horseback. The English, who must have seen us coming, were
ready to receive our charge and poured a heavy fire into us from ditches
and trenches and holes in the ground. We managed to (p. 432) dislodge
the enemy’s outerflanks and to make several prisoners, but could not
reach the carts on account of the heavy fire from a regiment of infantry
escorting the waggons. I thought the taking of the convoy would cost
more lives than it was worth, and gave orders to cease firing. We lost
my brave adjutant, Jaapie Oliver, while Captain Giel Joubert and another
burgher were wounded. On the other side Captain Merriman and ten men
were wounded. I do not know how many killed he had.

We went back to Schoeman’s Kloof the same day, where we buried our
comrades and attended to the wounded. The blockhouses and garrisons
along the convoy road were now fortified with entrenchments and guns,
and we had to abandon our plan of further attacks. It was raining fast
all the time we were out on this expedition, which caused us serious
discomfort. We had very few waterproofs, and, all the houses in the
district having been burnt down, there was no shelter for man or beast.
We slowly retired on Pilgrim’s Rest, having to cross several swollen
rivers.

(p. 433) On our arrival at Sabi I received the sad tidings that four
burghers named Stoltz had been cruelly murdered by kaffirs at Witriver.
Commandant Du Toit had gone there with a patrol and found the bodies in
a shocking condition, plundered and cut to pieces with assegais, and,
according to the trace, the murderers had come from Nelspruit Station.

Another report came from General Muller at Steenkampsberg. He informed
me that he had stormed a camp during the night of the 16th December, but
had been forced to retire after a fierce fight, losing 25 killed and
wounded, amongst whom was the valiant Field-Cornet J. J. Kriege. The
enemy’s losses were also very heavy, being 31 killed and wounded,
including Major Hudson.

It should not be imagined that we had to put up with very primitive
arrangements in every respect. Where we were now stationed, to the north
of Lydenburg, we even had telephonic communication between Spitskop and
Doornhoek, with call-offices at Sabi and Pilgrim’s Rest. The latter
place is in the centre of the diggers’ population here, (p. 434) and a
moderate-sized village. There are a few hundred houses in it, and it is
situated 30 miles north-east of Lydenburg. Here are the oldest
goldfields known in South Africa, having been discovered in 1876. This
village had so far been permanently in our possession. General Buller
had been there with his force in 1900 but had not caused any damage, and
the enemy had not returned since. The mines and big stamp-batteries were
protected by us and kept in order by neutral persons under the
management of Mr. Alex. Marshall. We established a hospital there under
the supervision of Dr. A. Neethling. About forty families were still in
residence and there was enough food, although it was only simple fare
and not of great variety. Yet people seemed to be very happy and
contented so long as they were allowed to live among their own people.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 435) CHAPTER XLIV.

THE LAST CHRISTMAS OF THE WAR.

December, 1901, passed without any important incident. We only had a few
insignificant outpost skirmishes with the British garrison at Witklip to
the south of Lydenburg. Both belligerents in this district attempted to
annoy each other as much as possible by blowing up each other’s mills
and storehouses. Two of the more adventurous spirits amongst my scouts,
by name Jordaan and Mellema, succeeded in blowing up a mill in the
Lydenburg district used by the British for grinding corn, and the enemy
very soon retaliated by blowing up one of our mills at Pilgrim’s Rest.
As the Germans say, “Alle gute dingen sind drei.” Several such
experiences and the occasional capture of small droves of British cattle
were all the incidents (p. 436) worth mentioning. It was in this
comparatively quiet manner that the third year of our campaign came to a
termination. The War was still raging and our lot was hard, but we did
not murmur. We decided rather to extract as much pleasure and amusement
out of the Christmas festivities as the extraordinary circumstances in
which we found ourselves rendered possible.

The British for the time being desisted from troubling us, and our stock
and horses being in excellent condition, we arranged to hold a sort of
gymkhana on Christmas Day. In the sportive festivities of the day many
interesting events took place. Perhaps the most noteworthy of these were
a mule race, for which nine competitors entered, and a ladies’ race, in
which six fair pedestrians took part. The spectacle of nine burly,
bearded Boers urging their asinine steeds to top speed by shout and spur
provoked quite as much honest laughter as any theatrical farce ever
excited. We on the grand stand were but a shaggy and shabby audience,
but we were in excellent spirits and cheered with tremendous gusto
(p. 437) the enterprising jockey who won this remarkable “Derby.”
Shabby as we were, we subscribed £115 in prizes. After the sports I have
just described the company retired to a little tin church at Pilgrim’s
Rest, and there made merry by singing hymns and songs round a little
Christmas tree.

Later in the evening a magic-lantern, which we had captured from the
British, was brought into play, and with this we regaled 90 of our
juvenile guests. The building was crowded and the utmost enthusiasm
reigned. The ceremony was opened by the singing of hymns and the making
of speeches, a harmonium adding largely to the enjoyment of the evening.
I felt somewhat nervous when called upon to address the gathering, for
the children were accompanied by their mothers, and these stared at me
with expectant eyes as if they would say, “See, the General is about to
speak; his words are sure to be full of wisdom.” I endeavoured to
display great coolness, and I do not think I failed very markedly as an
extemporaneous orator. I was helped very considerably in the
speechmaking (p. 438) part of the programme by my good friends the Rev.
Neethling and Mr. W. Barter, of Lydenburg. I have not now the slightest
idea of what I spoke about except that I congratulated the little ones
and their mothers on being preserved from the Concentration Camps, where
so many of their friends were confined.

I have mentioned that there were young ladies with us who participated
in the races. These were some whom the British had kindly omitted to
place in the Concentration Camps, and it was remarkable to see how soon
certain youthful and handsome burghers entered into amorous relations
with these young ladies, and matters developed so quickly that I was
soon confronted with a very curious problem. We had no marriage officers
handy, and I, as General, had not been armed with any special authority
to act as such. Two blushing heroes came to me one morning accompanied
by clinging, timorous young ladies, and declared that they had decided
that since I was their General I had full authority to marry them. I was
taken (p. 439) aback by this request, and asked, “Don’t you think,
young fellows, that under the circumstances you had better wait a little
till after the termination of the war?” “Yes,” they admitted, “perhaps
it would be more prudent, General, but we have been waiting three years
already!”

In General De la Rey’s Commando, which comprised burghers from eight
large districts, it had been found necessary to appoint marriage
officers, and quite a large number of marriages were contracted. I
mention this to show how diversified are the duties of the Boer general
in war-time, and what sort of strange offices he is sometimes called
upon to perform.

It will be seen from what I have said that occasionally the dark horizon
of our veldt life was lit up by the bright sunshine of the lighter
elements of life. At most times our outlook was gloomy enough, and our
hearts were heavily weighed down by cares. I often found my thoughts
involuntarily turning to those who had so long and so faithfully stood
shoulder to shoulder with me through all the (p. 440) vicissitudes of
war, fighting for what we regarded as our holy right, to obtain which we
were prepared to sacrifice our lives and our all. Unconsciously I
recalled on this Christmas Day the words of General Joubert addressed to
us outside Ladysmith in 1899: “Happy the Africander who shall not
survive the termination of this War.” Time will show, if it have not
already shown, the wisdom of General Joubert’s words.

Just about this time rumours of various kinds were spread abroad. From
several sources we heard daily that the War was about to end, that the
English had evacuated the country because their funds were exhausted,
that Russia and France had intervened, and that Lord Kitchener had been
captured by De Wet and liberated on condition that he and his troops
left South Africa immediately. It was even said that General Botha had
received an invitation from the British Government to come and arrange a
Peace on “independence” lines.

Nobody will doubt that we on the veldt were desperately anxious to
hear the glad (p. 441) tidings of Peace. We were weary of the
fierce struggle, and we impatiently awaited the time when the
Commandant-General and the Government should order us to sheathe the
sword.

But the night of the Old Year left us engaged in the fierce conflict of
hostilities, and the dawn of the New Year found us still enveloped in
the clouds of war—clouds whose blackness was relieved by no silver
lining.[Back to Table of Contents]

(p. 442) CHAPTER XLV.

MY LAST DAYS ON THE VELDT.

The first month of 1902 found the storm of death and destruction still
unabated, and the prospect appeared as dark as at the commencement of
the previous year. Our hand, however, was on the plough, and there was
no looking back. My instructions were, “Go forward and persevere.”

To the south of Lydenburg, where a section of my commando under General
Muller was operating, the enemy kept us very busy, for they had one or
more columns engaged. We, to the north of Lydenburg, had a much calmer
time of it than our brethren to the south of that place, for there the
British were pursuing their policy of exhausting our people with
unsparing hand. (p. 443) I attribute the fact that we in the north were
left comparatively undisturbed to the mountainous nature of the country.
It would have been impossible for the British to have captured us or to
have invaded our mountain recesses successfully without a tremendous
force, and, obviously, the British had no such force at their disposal.
Probably also the British had some respect for the prowess of my
commando. An English officer afterwards told me in all seriousness that
the British Intelligence Department had information that I was prowling
round to the north of Lydenburg with 4,000 men and two cannons, and that
my men were so splendidly fortified that our position was unconquerable.
Of course, it was not in my interest to enlighten him upon the point. I
was a prisoner-of-war when this amusing information was given me, and I
simply answered: “Yes, your intelligence officers are very smart
fellows.” The officer then inquired, with an assumption of candour and
innocence, whether it was really a fact that we had still cannon in the
field. To this I (p. 444) retorted: “What would you think if I put a
similar question to a British officer who had fallen into my hands?” At
this he bit his thumb and stammered: “I beg your pardon; I did not mean
to—er—insult you.” He was quite a young chap this, a conceited puppy,
affecting the “haw-haw,” which seems to be epidemic in the British Army.
His hair was parted down the centre, in the manner so popular among
certain British officers, and this style of hair-dressing came to be
described by the Boers as “middel-paadje” (middle-path). As a matter of
fact, my men only numbered as many hundreds as the thousands attributed
to me by the British. As for cannons, they simply existed in the
imagination of the British Intelligence Department.

Affairs were daily growing more critical. Since the beginning of the
year we had made several attempts at destroying the Delagoa Bay Railway,
but the British had constructed so formidable a network of barbed wire,
and their blockhouses were so close together and strongly garrisoned,
that hitherto (p. 445) our attempts had been abortive. The line was
also protected by a large number of armoured trains.