_AN INTERLUDE—THE RESULTS OF SANNA’S POST_
At Maitland Camp and Queen’s Town the two companies of Lumsden’s Horse
would probably have remained many weary weeks, eating their hearts out
with the fever of impatience, but for circumstances which must
necessarily be explained at some length in order to give a clear view of
the general situation. With events leading up to that situation
Lumsden’s Horse had nothing to do, but incidentally the crisis had a
great deal to do with them as influencing their movements immediately
afterwards. It will be remembered that Lord Roberts had found it
necessary to halt at Bloemfontein a fortnight earlier, his victorious
advance beyond that point being checked by the loss of a very valuable
convoy which had fallen into the hands of the Boers at Waterval Drift.
With characteristic cheerfulness he made light of a mishap that would
have been regarded by many generals as almost disastrous in the
circumstances, seeing that the convoy contained supplies without which
no forward movement of troops beyond Bloemfontein would be possible
pending the repair of railways and the opening up of communications with
a secure base. In his despatches Lord Roberts makes but a passing
reference to the Waterval Drift affair, as if it were of comparatively
little importance, yet he knew perfectly well that its consequences
would be a temporary paralysis of his whole force and heart-breaking
delay at a time when energetic action might have brought the campaign to
a decisive issue.
The relief of Ladysmith, far from improving matters in this respect, had
simply set free a number of Boer commandos, whose leaders, baulked in
their ambitious schemes for the conquest of Natal, were burning with
desire to achieve successes in the Orange Free State. From their point
of view it was still possible to retrieve the disaster of Paardeberg,
and they knew that a severe blow struck at the British lines of
communication would bring them many adherents from Cape Colony who were
only waiting for such an opportunity. It would also inevitably prolong
the campaign by cutting off sources of supply, on which Lord Roberts was
dependent; and it might even turn the scale in their favour by bringing
about European intervention. To that hope they clung always, as their
State documents and correspondence prove abundantly. Therefore it was of
the first importance that they should assume the offensive before Lord
Roberts could strengthen his lines of communication and bring up ample
supplies to form an advanced base at Bloemfontein. If circumstances had
permitted him to push on at once, the moral effect on enemies already
disorganised and disheartened would have been enormous. As it was, his
inaction revived the drooping Spirits of Boers who were previously on
the point of accepting defeat as inevitable. They saw the inherent
weakness of a force that could not move far in any direction until the
means of feeding itself had been secured, and their thoughts turned at
once to the possibility of frustrating that object by vigorous raids at
every vulnerable point. In such an emergency the presence of men like
Louis Botha and Christian De Wet was worth more than a thousand rifles.
They had the brain to plan and the intrepidity to attempt any enterprise
that might bring them an advantage by embarrassing their adversaries,
and every day’s delay on our side was an opportunity given to them for
more complete concentration. This last word must not be misunderstood.
When applied to Boer strategy or tactics it does not necessarily mean,a
gathering of units into one great force, but rather a concentration of
efforts on one object which they often secure while seeming to aim at
something entirely different by a distribution of their commandos in
many directions. Necessarily such distracting operations can never bring
about decisive results, but they served the Boer purpose admirably then,
and De Wet got the opportunity he wanted to prove himself an ideal
leader for work of that kind.
From some points of view this may be regarded as the most important
phase of the whole campaign; it taught the Boers how to harass our
forces with the greatest effect while exposing themselves to
comparatively little danger. First of all, however, they set themselves
to the task of showing that there was life and power for mischief in
them yet, their object evidently being to effect surprises that might
create panic among our troops and so render raids less difficult of
accomplishment. In the development of that idea we recognise the
peculiar craft of Christian De Wet, who at that time had less respect
for the courage of ‘rooineks’ than he began to entertain soon
afterwards. Sanna’s Post was a lesson to him not less than to us. With
the exaggeration which characterised a great deal that was written in
those days some critics at home described this affair as a ‘black
disaster,’ thereby meaning apparently that it was something rather
disgraceful and a stain on our military reputation. A disaster it was in
the literal sense, for the stars in their courses seemed to be turned
against us; but they were certainly not blotted out, and they never
shone on soldiers whose deeds could better bear the light. The story of
Sanna’s Post or Koorn Spruit is worth telling again, not only because it
marks emphatically the revival of Boer hopes, after Ladysmith and
Paardeberg and Kimberley had done much to shatter their self-confidence,
but because it furnishes a splendid example of British valour, defiant
in the moment of defeat, and all the brighter by contrast with the gloom
through which it shines. In details the following version of what
happened may not be more accurate than others, and it lacks the
completeness that subsequent access to official documents might have
given; but at least it has the merit of having been written at the time,
and of showing what was the impression conveyed to the minds of people
who were in the midst of those stirring events and could gauge their
significance without exaggeration. This description by the Editor, who,
as War Correspondent of ‘The Daily News,’ was then at Bloemfontein, may
be given almost in its original form.
We knew that Colonel Pilcher, in attacking Ladybrand, had roused a
hornet’s nest, and that Brigadier-General Broadwood, in command of a
small mixed column, was retiring along that road from Thaba ’Nchu, hard
pressed by Boers, whom he could only keep at a distance by the skilful
disposition of his forces in successive rearguard actions. His movements
were hampered by the slow progress of a convoy. He was falling back on a
post at Sauna’s near the waterworks from which Bloemfontein draws its
main supply, and expected to be there some time during the night of
Friday. He had made application for reinforcements when the Boers,
gathering strength as they came, began to overlap him on each flank, in
spite of anything that his men could do to check every move of that
kind. Thereupon Lord Roberts sent General Colvile’s Division, with
artillery, and Colonel Martyr’s brigade of Mounted Infantry and
Irregular Horse eastward by a forced march. They left Bloemfontein hours
before daybreak on Friday, but even then it was too late. Colonel
Martyr, pushing on as fast as the condition of over-worked horses would
permit, only reached Boesman’s (or Bushman’s) Kop with his leading
troops about 7 o’clock. There was still six miles of veldt between him
and the scene of disaster. Before he could cross that in force
sufficient to be of any use, the worst had happened, and nothing
remained for him but to cover the retreat of detachments that had
already got through the Boer lines before going to help those who were
still beset.
What were the causes leading to disaster we did not know then—we do not
know with absolute certainty even now. No special correspondents were
with General Broadwood’s column when sudden misfortune fell upon it. All
details had to be gathered at second hand, and many of the combatants
who were best qualified to give an impartial account of the trap in
which our troops were caught were either dead or prisoners in the hands
of the enemy. In the excitement following that swift surprise those who
had to fight hard for their lives could not see much on either side of
their immediate front. They were mainly concerned with the necessity for
shooting quick and straight. It is therefore not surprising that stories
of the fight, as seen from many different points of view, should vary so
that it becomes a little difficult to follow the exact sequence of
events.
Two or three points, however, seem tolerably clear. When
Brigadier-General Broadwood halted his troops to bivouac at 4 o’clock on
Saturday morning, March 31, after crossing the Modder River, they were
worn out by a long night march that had entailed incessant watchfulness.
He was then in touch with the small force of Mounted Infantry holding
the waterworks, and, naturally supposing that their commander had taken
all precautions to safeguard the drift across Koorn Spruit, he did not
call upon his weary column to furnish additional patrols for duty in
that direction, but formed a chain of outposts along ridges in rear
towards the known enemy, who had been harassing his march all the way
from Thaba ’Nchu.
It is known that the officer who was in command at Sanna’s Post did take
more than ordinary precautions before dawn that morning by sending a
company of Mounted Infantry westward across the drift near Pretorius’s
Farm, and, if a Boer prisoner may be trusted, that very precaution
contributed to the disaster. According to his story, a party of three
hundred Boers, who had been cut off from the main Brandfort body by
General French’s Cavalry, on Thursday, were making their way across
country to join Grobelaar’s (or, rather, as it had then become, De
Wet’s) command on the Ladybrand side. Hearing Koorn Spruit, this party
saw the Mounted Infantry patrol, and, the first principle of Boers in
warfare being to hide themselves from the enemy, they at once took
shelter between the high banks of a water-course which is, in places,
nearly as dry as a khor in the Soudan. Then they began to plan an
ambush, with the object of cutting off that isolated Mounted Infantry
company. Until that moment they had not thought of laying a trap for the
convoy, about which, indeed, they knew nothing. Such is the story told
by a Boer prisoner. If true, it proves that the capture of Broadwood’s
convoy was by a force entirely independent of the one against which he
had been fighting his rearguard actions, and therefore unpremeditated,
or, at any rate, not the calculated result of skilful tactics.
At first it was hastily assumed that one of the ablest scouts in the
British Army had been out-manœuvred, and allowed himself to be
surrounded by Boers. That the officer who gained distinction for
boldness, dash, and caution when reconnoitring successive Dervish
positions in the Soudan, should allow himself to be caught in a trap by
Boer farmers was almost inconceivable. It now seems as if the enemy had
merely stumbled on an opportunity, of which they took advantage, not
quite realising what it meant.
Against this, however, was the evidence of a civilian refugee who
declared that there were many more than three hundred Boers concealed in
Koorn Spruit, and believed that secret information must have been given
to them of the fact that no force had been posted to guard the drift by
which Broadwood’s column must cross. On Pretorius’s Farm he met a
burgher who had given up his arms, and received a pass from our military
authorities permitting him to return to his home and settle down in
peace, secure from all fear of molestation at the hands of British
troops. This disarmed burgher, who had been fighting against us up to
the occupation of Bloemfontein by Lord Roberts, showed such an accurate
knowledge of the Boer movements that he must have watched them very
closely. He could tell the exact position from which every gun would
open fire on the English, column before it came into action. This
knowledge he imparted without reserve, and yet, apparently, he had no
apprehensions of ill-treatment from his former comrades as the penalty
for deserting them. The incident, whatever interpretation may be put
upon it, is curious, and will, perhaps, help to explain many things that
happened when submissions were accepted and passes granted with too
lavish leniency.
It is more than probable that a Boer attack on the waterworks in order
to destroy the pumping machinery there was part of a plan conceived
directly after the occupation of Bloemfontein by our troops, but it
could not be carried out before the column holding Thaba ’Nchu had been
forced to retire. The artillery positions may therefore have been
selected some time previously for the purpose of shelling out any force
that might make a stand at the waterworks, and it is all consistent with
the Boer prisoner’s statement that no deliberate attempt was made by
General Broadwood’s pursuers to surround him until they found that his
convoy had been accidentally headed off and partly destroyed at the
drift across Koorn Spruit by a comparatively small body lying in ambush
there for another purpose. Such a combination of accidents seems
improbable, but certainly not more so than the assumption that a Boer
commander, calculating all the chances to a nicety, had ventured to
detach such a small force and send it round by a wide _détour_ across
some miles of open plain with the object of intercepting, by an ambush,
a column that had been able to hold its own against odds for some time.
If so, he gave more hostages to fortune than the Boers have risked
elsewhere.
Whatever may be the truth in this respect, it is clear that neither the
officer in charge of communications, whose Mounted Infantry held Sanna’s
Post, nor Brigadier-General Broadwood, had reason to suspect the
presence of any hostile force in that immediate neighbourhood.
When the retiring column got touch of its friends near the waterworks,
bivouac was immediately formed, and tired men no sooner lay down, with
saddles for pillows, and rifles by their sides, than they were sound
asleep, leaving the duty of watchfulness to their rearguard, which, in
outpost line, occupied a range of rough hills southward, overlooking the
road by which they had retired from Thaba ’Nchu. It was then 4 o’clock.
Little time could be given to rest, for the column had to start again in
two hours. Just before 6 o’clock the convoy of a hundred waggons with
mule-teams began to move off towards Koorn Spruit Drift. Such was the
false sense of security that no armed body went ahead. Some dismounted
men, whose horses had been shot or otherwise used up, marched as a
baggage-guard, but most of them had stowed their rifles on the waggons
while helping to get the column in marching order. Nothing warned them
that danger was near as they approached the drift. Not a movement was to
be seen across the broad veldt but dark shadows of hills creeping
backwards as the sun rose.
At that moment, from a distant hill in rear, overtopping the outpost
ridge, darted the flash of a Boer gun, then another and another from
different positions, followed by the shriek of shells and the crash of
bursting charges. Every shot, well aimed, struck with a dull thud, and
threw up columns of earth among or near the masses of men who were
saddling up or inspanning teams for the march, but did no damage beyond
frightening mules and increasing the confusion, where Cape boys, in
their haste to obey a peremptory order, got harness entangled and
themselves bewildered. Our Horse Artillery, being in a hollow, and
masked by the movement of troops about them, did not reply, but limbered
up and followed the transport waggons, which by that time had begun to
cross the drift. Nearly half of them had cleared it, when from behind
steep banks in the winding spruit on each side Boers galloped forward in
dense troops, and, halting with rifles at the present, summoned
everybody to surrender.
Some men of the baggage guard got to their arms, and, lying between
waggon wheels, opened fire, but they were few, and the Boers many. The
others, unarmed, could do nothing but obey the stern mandate: ‘Hold up
your hands; come this way and give us your bandoliers.’
Then U Battery of the Royal Horse Artillery, following close upon the
waggons, was surrounded before a gun could be wheeled about for ‘Action
front,’ and the drivers were ordered to dismount and outspan. Gunners,
however, do not yield without a struggle, even when their eyes look into
the barrel of an enemy’s levelled rifle. Hands were on revolvers in an
instant, but before these could be drawn shooting had begun, and many a
gallant fellow fell. Horses, too, were shot down, or, being wounded,
plunged madly over the traces. One team, startled by the din about it,
stampeded, and galloped off with gun and limber, but no drivers. Thus
one gun was saved. The other five fell into Boer hands, their gunners
being either killed, wounded, or taken prisoners.
Sergeant-Major Martin escaped and ran back to warn Major Hornby, who, in
command of Q Battery, was then scarcely a hundred yards from the scene
of disaster. That officer gave the order to unlimber and come into
action, but could not open fire while our men and the enemy were mixed
up together among baggage-waggons, and at the same time his own gunners
were being shot down. A small body of Remington’s Scouts made one plucky
effort to get near the captured battery, but suffered heavily. Then two
troops of Roberts’s Horse, acting as escort for the convoy, dashed
forward to cross the spruit and take the Boers in flank, but they were
confronted by enemies from another ambush, who, at a distance of only a
few yards, had them covered and called upon them to surrender. Their
only answer was ‘Fours about—gallop’; but it came too late, and before
they could get out of range nearly every saddle was emptied. Only five
men got away, and of these four were wounded. Among the missing, nine
officers had either been killed or fallen into the enemy’s hands.
Emboldened by success, the Boers came into the open, as they had never
done before. They galloped up to groups of men who were fighting
shoulder to shoulder, reined in, and shot as they sat in the saddle,
reckless of the bullets that whistled about them. One body charged close
up to a Maxim gun that was pouring out a deadly torrent of bullets, and
silenced it for a time by shooting down the detachment, but whether they
got away or fell victims to their own bravery could not be seen as the
struggle surged round them. Three New Zealanders whom I met coming out
of the fight told the story, and spoke with admiration of the daring
displayed by many of their foes, but still more enthusiastically of the
splendid courage of our Horse Artillery. Of these three, one was a fine
type of the half-caste Maori, the others hardy Colonists, who looked as
if they had faced death more than once—cold-eyed and calm. They had
evidently taken mental note of all that passed within sight of them,
while they with others held a group of buildings, keeping the enemy in
check by steady shooting.
Major Hornby, finding that he could not bring his guns to bear at short
range without shooting down friend as well as foe, limbered up to get
clear of the close _mêlée_. In wheeling round on rough ground one gun
capsized, bringing all the team down with it—horses and drivers together
in a confused mass. The Boers saw their chance, and brought a withering
rifle fire to bear, so that every attempt to right the gun failed. Under
this fire the two wheelers of another team fell. The leaders struggled
on for a time, dragging their maimed comrades, then came to a
standstill, and that gun also had to be left behind. Marksmen of the
Durham Light Infantry did their best to keep down the enemy’s fire,
while volunteers ran out to help the distressed gunners, who, managing
to escape, went off for fresh horses.
Captain Gore Anley, commanding the Essex Regiment’s Mounted Infantry,
aided by two of his men, brought a wounded gunner from under that
terrific fire to safety, and then went out with a brother-officer to
help at the guns. Time after time the artillerymen brought up fresh
teams, which were shot down before they could be hooked to the limbers.
One driver had nine horses killed or wounded before he gave up the
attempt as hopeless.
Meanwhile Major Hornby, with four guns of his own command, and the only
one remaining of U Battery, which had been recaptured after stampeding,
moved southward to a position twelve hundred yards from Koorn Spruit
Drift. There he brought them into action with a cool audacity and effect
that paralysed the enemy. Though he could not save the guns that had
been left behind, he could cover the retirement of Cavalry and Mounted
Infantry of the rearguard, who, unable longer to hold the low ridge
against heavy odds, were being forced back from the waterworks, fighting
stubbornly, though threatened in flank by the force that had captured
our convoy. Shelled at from right and left, smitten by storms of rifle
bullets, the gunners of Q Battery never budged. Coolly, as if at target
practice, they loaded and aimed. The shells burst among the Boers,
checking more than one attempt at a rush, and then the remnants of a
shattered brigade were enabled to retire upon their supports, who had
rallied for a stand at the station buildings.
All the time officers and men of the Army Medical Corps were covering
themselves with honour by brilliant services rendered to stricken
soldiers, who lay helpless where the ground was torn by bullets. The
coolest deed of all, however, was done by an American named Todd, a
trooper in Roberts’s Horse. With a comrade he had first volunteered to
go out and bring in some stray horses for the disabled guns. Before they
had ridden fifty yards the second trooper was shot dead, but Todd
galloped on straight towards the Boers, rounded up both horses, and had
nearly brought them back when one was killed. When he rejoined his
detachment Todd heard an officer asking for volunteers to go out in
search of their doctor, who was lying wounded in a donga. Without
waiting to hear more the trooper turned his horse’s head towards the
Boer lines again and galloped off. Twenty minutes later he rode back
slowly, bearing a heavy burden on his arms. ‘I couldn’t see the doctor
anywhere,’ he said, ‘but I have brought back the only wounded man that I
found alive there.’ If ever a man earned the right to wear the grim
badge of Roberts’s Horse it is Trooper Todd. Deeds of heroism, however,
were not rare that day. They could not avert disaster, but they shed a
light upon it that dispels the shadow of humiliation.
Our men had still hard fighting to do before they could hope to
extricate themselves. Brigadier-General Broadwood’s retirement upon the
station buildings was not effected without difficulty, and it is
wonderful that he should have been able to keep the remnants of so many
broken squadrons in hand, while they were weakened by further losses
every minute, and the on-coming enemy gathered strength. Several
horsemen, escaping, got away across the veldt, and then, forming groups,
headed towards Boesman’s Kop, Boers pursuing for some distance. But the
main body made a stand at the station buildings, and fought it out for
two weary hours, so fiercely that the enemy did not dare to come to
closer quarters. The company of Burmese Mounted Infantry that had been
on outpost duty west of Koorn Spruit, when they found themselves cut off
by Boers in ambush, made an attempt to rejoin the main body, but were in
turn surrounded. Having some advantage of ground, though outnumbered,
they were enabled to hold their assailants off until 7 o’clock.
Then the scene changed. Troops appeared on Boesman’s Kop. They were the
advanced guard of Colonel Martyr’s Mounted Infantry brigade, which had
made a forced march to relieve the beleaguered column. Their commander
halted only long enough to let the main body close up, and then
‘Queenslanders to the rescue’ came sweeping across the veldt as fast as
their jaded horses could move. But the Boers were at their old tactics
again, and the Queensland Mounted Infantry fell into a trap skilfully
laid for them. Before the enemy could reap much advantage, however,
Colonel Henry was at them with all his companies of Regular Mounted
Infantry, which the astute Brigadier had ordered forward when he saw the
Queensland men in difficulties. The young officer, who has spent many
years with Egyptian Camel Corps, chasing Dervish raiders and scouting
about their strongholds, was not to be caught by a Boer ambush. He
advanced upon them in a formation too flexible even for their mobility,
and gradually drove them before him until the Burmese and Queensland
Mounted Infantry were enabled to fight their way through the weakened
cordon.
This timely diversion gave General Broadwood his opportunity, Major
Hornby’s battery fell back to another position, covering the retirement,
and then the column, leaving its wounded under care of our own surgeons,
retired slowly to join the welcome reinforcements. They had to turn
again and again to face the foe, who still hung on their heels, and all
the way they were shelled by Boer guns, until a final stand was made
near the waterworks, where the enemy dared not attack, though the
artillery fire continued for nearly two hours longer.
Late that afternoon the Highland Brigade, under General Hector
MacDonald, passed Boesman’s Kop, and advanced to get touch of the enemy,
near Modder River; but except for a few shells and sputtering rifle
fire, no attempt was made by the Boers to resist this advance. When
General Smith-Dorrien’s brigade, and other troops of the Ninth Division,
joined MacDonald, the column that had fought so well after disaster fell
upon it, dispersed into scattered remnants once more, each unit making
for the appointed bivouac in any want of formation best adapted to the
needs of weary men who had to walk because their horses were more tired
than themselves.
What a roll-call it would have been if the Brigadier had not in mercy
spared them that melancholy ordeal! When the losses came to be counted,
they numbered, in dead, wounded, and prisoners, nearly a third of the
force that had marched out of Thaba ’Nchu forty hours earlier. Of U
Battery, Royal Horse Artillery, only a mere handful remained, and Q
Battery had suffered heavily too. Seven out of twelve guns had been left
in the enemy’s hands, with some eighty baggage waggons full of stores.
Household Cavalry, 10th Hussars, and Mounted Infantry had losses to
mourn, and Roberts’s Horse the most of all. Unhappily, it was too late
to hope that either guns or convoy could be recaptured. They had all
been taken off during the afternoon towards Thaba ’Nchu, and Boers were
in possession of the waterworks, with artillery on heights behind,
covering the road.
Next day a demonstration of the whole force under General Colvile’s
command was made, as if to drive every Boer from the waterworks, where
mischief had been done by the destruction of pumping engines; but it
ended in nothing, and then we gradually drew in our forces. The Boers
assumed the offensive again, and began to threaten our line of
communications at several points.
These were the conditions that made Lord Roberts anxious to secure the
services of every mounted corps on which he could rely for meeting the
new Boer tactics by swift counter-strokes. Most of them he had foreseen
when orders were sent for Lumsden’s Horse to be supplied with all the
remounts necessary for repairing losses and pushed on to the front.
Sanna’s Post with all its consequences had not been counted on; but it
made the need for mounted troops all the more urgent in order that
pressure round about Wepener might be relieved and lines of
communication cleared. That action, lamentable because of the sacrifices
it entailed, but glorious in its heroic incidents, gave to Lumsden’s
Horse not only an opportunity, but an example; and we may be sure that,
when the news reached them at Maitland Camp and at Queen’s Town, every
trooper made up his mind to be a worthy comrade of the men who had
risked their lives so nobly and fought with such stubborn valour in vain
attempts to save the guns at Sanna’s Post.
[Illustration]