THE CAPTURE OF SURPRISE HILL
_Sunday, December 10, 1899._
Just as we were lazily washing our clothes and otherwise enjoying the
Sabbath rest and security at about eight in the morning, "Puffing
Billy," of Bulwan, began breaking the Fourth Commandment with
extraordinary recklessness and rapidity. He sent nine of his shells into
the town, as fast as he could fire them. "Bloody Mary" flung two over
his head and one into his earthwork, but he paid no attention to her
protests. The fact was, the 5th Dragoon Guards, trusting to Boer
principles, had left their horses fully exposed to view instead of
leading them away under cover as usual at sunrise. The gunners, probably
Germans, thought this was presuming too much on their devotion to the
Old Testament, and set their scruples aside for twenty minutes under
the paramount duty of slaughtering men and horses. Happily no serious
harm was done, and the rest of the day was as quiet as Sunday usually
is.
On our side we were engaged all day in preparing a new home for "Lady
Anne" on Waggon Hill, south-west of the town. The position, as I have
often described, gives a splendid view of the country towards Basutoland
and the Free State mountains. It also commands some four miles of the
Maritzburg road towards Colenso and the guns which the Boers have set up
there to check the approach of a relieving force. By late afternoon the
enormous sangar was almost finished. The gun will be carried over on a
waggon at night. I watched the work in progress from Rifleman's Post, an
important outpost and fort, held by the 2nd K.R.R. (60th). It also
commands the beginning of the Maritzburg road, where it passes across
the "Long Valley," between Range Post and Bluebank.
The doctors and ambulance men who went out after the brief cavalry
action on Friday morning report they were fired on while carrying the
dead and wounded in the dhoolies. The Boers retaliate with a similar
charge against us in Modder River. Unhappily, there can be no doubt that
one of our doctors was heavily fired on whilst dressing a man's wounds
on the field.
_December 11, 1899._
Soon after two in the night I heard rifle-firing, then two explosions,
and heavier rifle-firing again, apparently two or three miles away. It
was too dark to see anything, even from the top of the hill, but in the
morning I found we had destroyed another gun--the 4.7 in. howitzer on
Surprise Hill. For weeks past it had been one of the most troublesome
guns of the thirty-two that surround us. It had a long range and
accurate aim. Its position commanded Observation Hill, part of the
Newcastle road, Cove Hill, and Leicester Post, the whole of the old camp
and all the line of country away to Range Post and beyond. It was this
gun that shelled the 18th Hussars out of their camp and continually
harassed the Irish Fusiliers. It was constantly dropping shells into the
69th Battery and on the K.R.R. at King's Post. Surprise Hill is a
square-topped kopje, from 500 feet to 600 feet high, between Thornhill's
Kopje and Nicholson's Nek. It overlooks Bell's Spruit and the scene of
"Mournful Monday's" worst disaster. From Leicester Post, where two guns
were always kept turned on it, the distance is 4,100 yards--just the
full range of our field guns. From Observation Hill it is hardly 2,500
yards. The destruction of its gun was therefore of the highest
importance.
At ten o'clock last night four companies of the 2nd Rifle Brigade
started from their camp on Leicester Post, with six sappers, under Mr.
Digby Jones, and five gunners under Major Wing, of the 69th Battery. The
whole was commanded by Colonel Metcalfe of the battalion. They marched
across the fairly open grassland toward Observation Hill, and there
halted because the half-moon was too bright. About midnight they again
advanced, as the moon was far down in the west. They marched in fours
towards the foot of the hill, but had to cross the Harrismith Railway
two deep through a gap where the wire fences were cut with nippers. One
deep donga and a shallower had to be crossed as well. At the foot of the
hill two companies were left, extended in a wedge shape, the apex
pointing up the hill. The remaining two companies began the ascent. The
front of the hill is steep and covered with boulders, but is greener
than most South African hills. About half-way up half a company was left
in support. The small assaulting party then climbed up in extended line.
Not a word was spoken, and the Boers gave no sign till our men were
within twenty yards of the top. Then a sentry cried, "Who's there? Who's
there?" in English, and fired. Our men fixed swords and charged to the
top with a splendid cheer. They made straight for the sangar and formed
in a circle round it, firing outwards without visible target. To their
dismay they found the gun-pit empty. The gun had been removed perhaps
for security, perhaps for the Sabbath rest. But it was soon discovered a
few yards off, and the sappers set to work with their gun-cotton.
Meantime a party was sent to the corner of the hill on the left to clear
out a little camp, where the Boer gunners slept and had their meals
under a few little trees. They fired into it, and then carried
everything away, some of the men bringing off some fine blankets, which
they are very proud of this morning. The great-coats were in such a
disgusting condition that the soldiers had to leave them.
The fuse was long in going off. Some say the first fuse failed, some
that it was very slow. Anyhow, the party was kept waiting on the
hill-top almost half an hour, when the whole thing ought to have been
done in a quarter. Those extra fifteen minutes cost many lives. At last
the shock of the explosion came. Two great holes were made in the gun's
rifling near the muzzle, and the breech was blown clean out, the screw
being destroyed. Major Wing secured the sight, the sponge, and an old
wideawake, which the gunner used always to wave to him very politely
just before he fired. Some say there was a second explosion, and I heard
it myself, but it may have been a Boer gun which threw one round of
shrapnel high over the hill, the bullets pattering down harmlessly, and
only making a blue bruise when they hit. As soon as the sappers and
gunners had made sure the gun was destroyed, the order to retire was
given, and the line began climbing down in the darkness. The half
company in support was taken up, the two companies at the foot were
reached by some, when a heavy fire flashed out of the darkness on both
sides. The Boers, evidently by a preconcerted scheme, were crowding in
from Thornhill's farm on our left--Mr. Thornhill, by the way, was acting
as our guide--and from Bell's farm on our right. They came creeping
along the dongas, right into the midst of our men, as well as cutting
off retreat. Then it was that we wanted that quarter of an hour lost by
the fuse. The men hastily formed up into their four companies and began
the retirement in succession. Each company had simply to fight its way
through with the sword-bayonet. They did not fire much, chiefly for fear
of hitting each other, which unfortunately happened in some cases. The
Boers took less precaution, and kept up a tremendous fire from both
flanks, many of the bullets probably hitting their own men. Under
shelter of the dongas some got right among our companies and fired from
a few yards' distance.
Then came the horror of a war between two nations familiar with the same
language. "Second R.B.! Second R.B.!" shouted our fellows as a watchword
and rallying-cry. "Second R.B.!" shouted every Boer who was challenged
or came into danger. "B Company here!" cried an officer. "B Company
here!" came the echo from the Dutch. "Where's Captain Paley?" asked a
private. "Where's Captain Paley?" the question passed from Boer to Boer.
In the darkness it was impossible to distinguish friend from foe. The
only way was to stoop down till you saw the edge of a broad-brimmed
hat. Then you drove your bayonet through the man, if he did not shoot
you first. Many a poor fellow was shot down by some invisible figure who
was talking to him in English and was taken for a friend. One Boer fired
upon a private at two or three yards--and missed him! The private sprang
upon him. "I surrender! I surrender!" cried the Boer, throwing down his
rifle. "So do I," cried the private, and plunged his bayonet through the
man's stomach and out at his back.
One by one the companies cut their way into the open ground by the
railway, and to Observation Hill, where the enemy dare not pursue. By
half-past three a.m. the greater part were back at Leicester Post again.
It was a triumph, even for the Rifle Brigade: as fine and gallant an
achievement as could be done. But the cost was heavy.
Eleven were dead, including one or perhaps two officers. Six are
prisoners. Forty-three are wounded, some severely. The ambulance was out
all the morning bringing them in. Again they complained that the Boers
fired on them and wanted to keep them prisoners. Nothing has so
embittered our troops against the enemy as this continual firing on the
wounded and hospitals. It was sad in any case to see the stretchers
coming home this morning. Meeting a covered dhoolie, I asked the bearers
who was in it. "Captain Paley," they said, and put him down for water.
He had been reported missing. In fact, he had stayed behind to look
after some of his men who were down or lost. He is known for his
excellent government of a district in Crete. I gave him the water. He
recognised me at once and was conscious, but his singularly blue eyes
looked out of a deadly yellow and bloodless face, and his hands seemed
to have the touch of death on them. When I said I was sorry, he
answered, "But we got the gun." He was shot through the chest, though,
as he pointed out, he was not spitting blood. Another bullet had entered
the left hip and passed out, breaking the right hip-bone. That is the
dangerous wound. He said he did not feel much pain.
The wounded were taken down to the tents set up in the ravine of the
Port Road between the Headquarters and the old camp. That is the main
hospital (11th and 18th) since the wounded were shifted out of the Town
Hall, because the Boers shelled it so persistently. Since the Geneva
flag was removed from the hall's turret not a single shell has been
fired near the building. The ravine--"kloof" is the word here, like
"cleft"--is fairly safe from shells, though the Bulwan gun has done its
best to get among the tents ever since spies reported the removal.
It is fully exposed to those terrible dust storms which I described in
an earlier letter. In the afternoon we had one of the worst I have seen.
The sand and dust and dry filth, gathered up by the hot west wind from
the plain of the old camp, swept in a continuous yellow cloud along the
road and down into the ravine. It blotted out the sun, it blinded horses
and men, it covered the wounded with a thick layer. I have described its
horrible effects before. Imagine what it is like to have a hospital
under such conditions, practically unsheltered--to extract bullets, to
staunch blood, to amputate. One admires the Boers as a race fighting for
their freedom, soon to be overthrown on behalf of a mongrel pack of
speculators and other scoundrels. But I did not like them any better
when I saw our wounded in the dust-storm to-day, and remembered why they
were there.
In the afternoon a white woman was killed by a shell as she was washing
clothes in the river. She is the first woman actually killed, though
others have died from premature child birth. I don't know which gun
killed her, but parts of the town and river hitherto safe were to-day
exposed to fire from the 6 in. gun which was removed from Middle Hill a
few days ago, and is now set up on Thornhill's farm, due west of the
town. It commands a very wide district--the old camp, the Long Valley
which the Maritzburg road crosses, the Great Plain behind Bluebank, and
most of our western positions. It began firing early in the morning and
continued at intervals all day. For an hour or two people were surprised
at seeing a free balloon sailing away towards Bulwan. It turned out to
be one of Captain Heath's dummies, which had got away. He tells me it
will be entirely useless to the enemy in any case.
_December 12, 1899._
I was so overcome with fever that again my aspect of things was not
quite straight. After dawn the Bulwan gun shelled the Star bakery, close
to my cottage, and the stones and earth splashing on my roof woke me up
too early. Another cottage was wrecked. The heat was intense, but the
sun so splendid that I have hopes my heliograph message got through at
last. None have gone yet, but I took up my sixth version in faith to the
signal station near the Convent. On inquiry about Captain Paley I found
he had been sent down to Intombi Camp with other serious cases, but the
doctors think he has a chance. Lieut. Bond, who has a similar wound,
went with him. Lieut. Fergusson, who died, had four bad wounds, three
from bullets and one from a small shell of the automatic "pom-pom,"
which shattered his thigh. The rest of the day was a delirium of fever
till the evening, when the wind suddenly changed to east, and it became
cool and then bitterly cold. At half-past eight the proposed Flying
Column, which is to co-operate with the relieving force, had a kind of
dress rehearsal, all turning out with field equipment and transport for
three days' rations. The Irish Fusiliers under Major Churcher formed the
head of the column at Range Post, a body of Natal Volunteers coming
next, followed by the Gordons. I waited at Range Post in the eager and
refreshing wind till the column gradually dissolved into its camps, and
all was still. By eleven the rehearsal was over and I rode back to my
end of the town. To-night the civilians of the Town Guard went on picket
by the river, and bore their trials boldly, though one of them got a
crick in the neck.
_December 13, 1899._
The early part of the day was distinguished by a violent fire from the
big gun of Bulwan upon the centre of the town and the riverside camps.
"Lady Anne" answered, for she has not yet been removed to her destined
station on Waggon Hill. In the intervals of their fire we could
distinctly hear big guns far away near Colenso and the Tugela River.
They were chiefly English guns, for the explosion followed directly on
the report, proving they were fired towards us. The firing stopped about
10 a.m.
All morning our two howitzers, which have been brought down from Waggon
Hill, pounded away at their old enemy, the 6 in. gun now placed on
Telegraph Hill as I described. They are close down by the Klip River,
west of the old camp. Their object is to drive the gun away as they
drove him before, and certainly they gave him little rest. He had hardly
a chance of returning the fire; but when he had his shot was terribly
effective, coming right into the top of our earthworks. Equally
interesting was the behaviour of two Boers who crept down from
Thornhill's farm among the rocks and began firing into our right rear. I
detected them by the little puffs of white smoke, for both had
Martini's. But no one took the trouble to shoot them, though they
harassed our gunners. If there had been 50 instead of two they might
have driven out our handful of men and tumbled the guns into the river.
For we had no support nearer than the steep top of King's Post. Happily
Boers do not do such things.
A Kaffir brought in a newspaper only two days old. It said Gatacre had
suffered a reverse on the Free State frontier. There was nothing about
the German Emperor, and no football news.
In the late afternoon I rode up to the Manchesters' lines on Cæsar's
Camp, our nearest point to Colenso. But they knew no more than the rest
of us, except that an officer had counted the full tale of guns fired in
the morning--137. The view on all sides was as varied and full of
growing association as usual, but had no special interest to-day, and I
hurried back to inquire again after Mr. George Steevens, who is down
with fever, to every one's regret.
_December 14, 1899._
After the high hopes of the last few days we seem to be falling back,
and to get no nearer to the end. Very little firing was heard from
Colenso. The Bulwan gun gave us his morning salute of ten big shells in
various parts of the town. They made some troublesome pits in the roads,
and one destroyed a house, but nobody was killed.
The howitzers and the Telegraph Hill Gun pounded away at each other
without much effect. Sickness is now our worst enemy. Next to sickness
comes want of forage for the horses. The sick still average thirty a
day, and there were 320 cases of enteric at Intombi Camp last night. Mr.
Steevens has it, and his friends were busy all morning, moving him to
better quarters. Major Henderson is about again. The Röntgen Rays did
not discover the bicycle shot in his leg, and the doctors have decided
to leave it there.
It was disappointing to hear that the Kaffir runner I sent with an
account of the night attack on Surprise Hill had been captured by the
Boers and robbed of his papers. I had hopes of that boy; he wore no
trousers. But it is perhaps unsafe to judge character from dress alone.
This runner business is heart-breaking. I tried to make up by getting
another short heliogram through, but the sun was uncertain, and the
receivers on the distant mountain sulky and wayward. They showed one
faint glimmer of intelligence, and then all was dark again.
In the heat of the day a four-wheeled hooded cart drove from the Boer
lines under a white flag bringing a letter for the General. The envoy
was a Dutchman from Holland. He was met outside our lines by Lieutenant
Fanshawe, of the 19th Hussars, who conversed with him for about two
hours, till the answer returned. Seated under the shade of the cart, he
enjoyed the enemy's hospitality in brandy and soda, biltong, and Boer
biscuit. "But for that white rag," said the Dutchman, "we two would be
trying to kill each other. Very absurd!" He went on to repeat how much
the Boers admired the exploits of the night attacks. "If you had gone
for the other guns that first night, you would have got them all." He
said the gunners on Gun Hill were all condemned to death. He examined
the horse and its accoutrements, thinking them all very pretty, but
maintaining the day for cavalry was gone. He was perfectly intimate with
the names and character of all the battalions here. Of the Boer army he
said it contained all nationalities down to Turks and Jews. He had no
doubt of their ultimate success, and looked forward to Christmas dinner
in Ladysmith. What we regard as our victories, he spoke of as our
defeats. Even Elands Laagte he thought unsuccessful. Finally, after all
compliments, he drove away, bearing a private letter from Mr. Fanshawe
to be posted through Delagoa Bay and Amsterdam.
_December 15, 1899._
In my own mind I had always fixed to-day as the beginning of our
deliverance from this grotesque situation. It may be so still. Very
heavy firing was heard down Colenso way from dawn till noon. Colonel
Downing, commanding the artillery, said some of it was our field-guns,
and it seemed nearer than two days ago.
The Bulwan gun gave us his customary serenade from heaven's gate. He did
rather more damage than usual, wrecking two nice houses just below my
cottage. One was a boarding house full of young railway assistants, who
had narrow escapes. The brother gun on Telegraph Hill was also very
active, not being so well suppressed by our howitzers as before. When I
was waiting at Colonel Rhodes' cottage by the river, it dropped a shell
clear over Pavilion Hill close beside it. Otherwise the Boer guns
behaved with some modesty and discretion.
In the morning I rode up to Waggon Hill, and found that "Lady Anne" had
at last arrived there, and was already in position. She was hauled up in
the night in three pieces, each drawn by two span of oxen. Some thirty
yards in front of her, in an emplacement of its own, stands the 12lb.
naval gun which has been in that neighbourhood for some days. Both are
carefully concealed, even the muzzles being covered up with earth and
stones. They both command the approach to the town across the Long
Valley by the Maritzburg road, as well as Bluebank or Rifleman's Ridge
beyond, and Telegraph Hill beyond that.
While I was on the hill I saw one mounted and four dismounted Boers
capture five of our horses which had been allowed to stray in grazing.
In the afternoon a South African thunderstorm swept over us. In a few
minutes the dry gully where the main hospital tents are placed, as I
described, became a deep torrent of filth. The tents were three feet
deep in water, washing over the sick. "Sure it's hopeless, hopeless!"
cried unwearying Major Donegan, the medical officer in charge. "I've
just seen me two orderlies swimmin' away down-stream." The sick, wet and
filthy as they were, had to be hurried away in dhoolies to the chapels
and churches again. They will probably be safe there as long as the
Geneva flag is not hoisted.
_December 16, 1899._
This is Dingaan's Day, the great national festival of the Boers. It
celebrates the terrible battle on the Blood River, sixty-one years ago,
when Andreas Pretorius slaughtered the Zulus in revenge for their
massacre of the Dutch at Weenen, or Lamentation. In honour of the
occasion, the Boers began their battle earlier than usual. Before
sunrise "Puffing Billy" of Bulwan exploded five 96lb. shells within
fifty yards of my humble cottage, disturbing my morning sleep after a
night of fever. I suppose he was aiming at the bakery again, but he
killed nobody and only destroyed an outbuilding. Farther down the town
unhappily he killed three privates. He also sent another shell into the
Town Hall, and blew Captain Valentine's horse's head away, as the poor
creature was enjoying his breakfast. After seven o'clock hardly a gun
was fired all day. Opinion was divided whether the Boers were keeping
holiday for that battle long ago, or were burying their dead after
Buller's cannonade of yesterday. But raging fever made me quite
indifferent to this and all other interests.