THE GREAT ATTACK
_January 6, 1900._
It has been a commonplace of the war that the Boers could cling to a
position of their own choosing from behind stones, but would never
venture to attack a position or fight in the open. Like all the
comforting commonplaces about the Boers, this is now overthrown. The
untrained, ill-equipt farmers have to-day assaulted positions of
extraordinary strength, have renewed the attack again and again, have
rushed up to breastworks, and died at the rifle's mouth, and have only
been repulsed after fifteen hours of hard and gallant fighting on the
part of the defence.
Waggon Hill is a long, high spur of Cæsar's Camp, running out south-west
between Long Valley and Bester's Farm. At the extremity, as I have
described, are the great gun-pits prepared for "Lady Anne" and a Naval
12-pounder some weeks ago. "Lady Anne" was for the second time being
brought up into position there last night, and ought to have been fixed
the night before, but was stopped half-way by the wet.
The Boer attack was probably not merely an attempt on the gun, but on
the position, and the gun is being taken back to her usual position
to-night. Besides the gun-pits, the hill has no defences except a few
low walls, only two or three stones high, piled up at intervals round
the edge, as shelters from long-range fire. The place was held only by
three dismounted squadrons of Imperial Light Horse, but the 1st K.R.R.
(60th) were in support in a large sangar about three-quarters of a mile
along the same ridge, separated from Waggon Hill proper by the low "nek"
where the two howitzers used to stand. From the 60th the ridge turns at
an angle eastward, and becomes the long tableland of Cæsar's Camp, held
by the Manchesters and 42nd Battery (Major Goulburn). The top is broad
and flat, covered with grass and loose stones. The whole position
completely overlooks the town to the north, and if it fell into the
enemy's hands we should either have to retake it or quit the camps and
town. The edge measures 4,000 yards, and the Manchesters had only 560
men to hold it.
At a quarter to three a.m., while it was still dark, a small party of
Boer sharpshooters climbed up the further (south-east) face of Waggon
Hill, just left of the "nek." They were picked men who had volunteered
for the exploit. Nearly all came from Harrismith. We had posted a picket
of eight at the point, but long security had made them careless, or else
they were betrayed by a mistake which nearly lost the whole position.
From the edge of the hill the whole face is "dead" ground. It is so
steep that an enemy climbing up it cannot be seen. It was almost a case
of Majuba again.
The Dutch crept up quite unobserved. At last a sentry challenged, and
was answered with "Friend." He was shot dead, and was found with rifle
raised and still loaded. The alarm was given, but no one realised what
had happened. Captain Long (A.S.C.), who was superintending the
transport of "Lady Anne," told me he could not understand how it was
that bullets kept whistling past his nose. He thought the firing was
from our own sentries. But the Dutch had reached the summit, and were
enfilading the "nek" and the whole extremity of the hill from our left.
As light began to dawn it was impossible to show oneself for a moment on
the open top. The furthest range was not over 300 yards, and the top of
a helmet, the corner of an arm, was sufficient aim for those deadly
marksmen. Unable to stand against the fire, the Light Horse withdrew
behind the crest of the hill, whilst small parties continued a desperate
defence from the two big gun-pits.
Nearly all the officers present have been killed or wounded, and it is
difficult to get a clear account of what happened from any eye-witness.
Four companies from each battalion of the K.R. Rifles came up within the
hour, but no one keeps count of time in such a struggle. The Boers were
now climbing up all along the face of the hill, and firing from the
edge. All day about half the summit was in their possession. Three times
they actually occupied the gun-pits and had to be driven out again.
Leaning their rifles over the parapets they fired into the space inside.
It was so that Major Miller-Wallnutt, of the Gordons, was killed. Old De
Villiers, the Harrismith commandant, shot him over the wall, and was in
turn shot by Corporal Albrecht, of the Light Horse, who was himself shot
by a Field-Cornet, who was in turn shot by Digby-Jones, the sapper. So
it went on. The Boers advanced to absolutely certain death, and they met
it without hesitation--the Boers who would never have the courage to
attack a position! One little incident illustrates their spirit. A
rugged old Boer finding one of the I.L.H. wounded on the ground, stopped
under fire and bound him up. "I feel no hatred towards you," he said,
"but you have no reason to fight at all. We are fighting for our
country." He turned away, and a bullet killed him as he turned.
Before six o'clock the defence was further reinforced by a party of
Gordons from Maiden Castle. They did excellent work throughout the day,
though they, too, were once or twice driven from the top. But the credit
of the stand remains with the I.L.H. and a few sappers like Digby-Jones,
who held one of the little forts alone for a time, killed three Boers
with his revolver, and went for a fourth with the butt. He would have
had the V.C. if he had not fallen. So perhaps would Dennis, of the
Sappers, though I am told he was present without orders. Lord Ava,
galloper to General Ian Hamilton, commanding the defences, was shot
through the head early in the day, about six o'clock. Sent forward with
a message to the Light Horse, he was looking through glasses over a
rock when the bullet took him. While I write he is still alive, but
given up. A finer fellow never lived. "You'd never take him for a lord,"
said an Irish sergeant, "he seems quite a nice gentleman." Equally sad
was the loss of Colonel Dick-Cunyngham, of the Gordons. A spent bullet
struck him in the back as he was leaving camp. The wound is mortal, and
he had only just recovered from his wound at Elands Laagte.
So the fight began. The official estimate of the Boers who gained the
top is 600. Eye-witnesses put the number at anything between 100 and
1,000. The struggle continued from 3 a.m. till nearly seven at night. It
must be remembered that our men had nothing to eat from five the
afternoon before, and got nothing till nine at night. Twenty-eight hours
they were without food, and for about sixteen they were fighting for
life and death. At 4 p.m. a tremendous thunderstorm with rain and hail
came on, but the fire never slackened. The 21st and 67th Batteries were
behind the position in front of Range Post, but were unable to give
assistance for fear of killing our men. The 18th Hussars and 5th Dragoon
Guards and some 5th Lancers came up dismounted to reinforce, but still
the enemy clung to the rocks, and still it was death to creep out on the
narrow level of the summit.
It was now evident that the position must be retaken at all costs, or
the enemy would hold it all night. The General sent for three companies
of the Devons. Up they came, tramping through the storm--that glorious
regiment of Western Englishmen. Colonel Park and four other officers led
them on. It was about six o'clock when they reached the summit. Keeping
well to the left of the "nek," between the extremity held by the Light
Horse and the 60th's sangar, they took open order under cover of the
ridge. Then came the command to sweep the position with the bayonet.
They fixed, and advanced at the quick till they reached the open. Then,
under a steady hail of bullets, they came on at the double--180 men,
with the steel ready. Colonel Park himself led them. The Boers kept up
an incessant fire till the line was within fifteen yards. Then they
turned and ran, leaping down the steep face of the hill, and
disappearing in the dead ground. Their retreat was gallantly covered by
their comrades, who swept the ridge with an oblique fire from both
sides.
The Devons, edging a little to the right in their charge, got some cover
from a low wall near the "nek" just quitted by the Boers. Even there the
danger was terrible. It was there that four officers fell, three stone
dead. It will be long before such officers as Lafone (already twice
wounded in this war) and Field can be replaced. Lieutenant Masterson,
formerly a private, and later a colour-sergeant in the Irish Fusiliers,
was ordered back over the exposed space cleared by the first charge to
bring up a small reinforcement further on the left. On the way he was
shot at least three times, but staggered on and gave his order. He still
survives, and is recommended for the Victoria Cross. He comes of a
fighting Irish stock, and his great-grandfather captured the French
Eagle at Barossa in the Peninsular War. He received his commission for
gallantry in Egypt.
But the day was won. The position was cleared. That charge finished the
business. The credit for the whole defence against one of the bravest
attacks ever made rests with the Light Horse, the Gordons, and the
Devons. Yet it is impossible to forget the unflinching self-devotion of
the King's Royal Rifle officers. They suffered terribly, and the worst
is they suffered almost in vain. At one moment, when the defenders had
been driven back over the summit's edge, Major Mackworth (of the
Queen's, but attached to the King's Royal Rifles) went up again, calling
on the men to follow him. Just with his walking-stick in his hand he
went up, and with the few brave men who followed him he died.
The attack on the main position of Cæsar's Camp was much the same in
plan and result. At 3 a.m. the Manchester pickets along the extremity's
left edge (_i.e._, north-east) were surprised by the appearance of Boers
in their very midst. Lieutenant Hunt-Grubbe, who was visiting the
pickets, mistook them for volunteers. "Hullo! Boers!" he cried out. They
laughed and answered, "Yes, burghers!" He was a prisoner in their hands
for some hours. The whole of one section was shot dead at their post.
The alarm was given, but the outlying sentries and piquets could not
move from the little shelters and walls which alone protected them from
the oblique fire from an unknown direction. Many were shot down. Some
remained hidden at the bottom of their defence pits till late in the
afternoon without being able to stir. Creeping up the dead ground on the
cliffs face, which is covered with rocks and thick bushes, the Boers
lined the left edge of the summit in great numbers. Probably about 1,000
attacked that part alone, and about 200 advanced on to the top. They
were all Transvaal Boers, chiefly volunteers from the commandoes of
Heidelburg and Wakkerstroom. This main body was attempting to take our
left (north) side of the hill in flank, and kept edging through the
thorns and dongas near the foot. The Natal Police, supported by the
Natal Mounted Rifles, had been set to prevent such a movement, but had
left a gap of 500 yards between their right and three companies of
Gordons stationed in front of "Fly" kraal on that side of the hill. At
last, observing the enemy in a donga, they challenged, and were met by
the answer, "For God's sake, don't fire; we're the Town Guard." At once
they were undeceived by a volley which killed one of them and wounded a
few others. How far they avenged this act of treachery I have not
discovered. The Boers flanking movement was only checked by the 53rd
Battery (Major Abdy), which was posted on the flat across the river from
the show ground, and did splendid service all day. It shelled the side
and top of the hill almost incessantly, though the big Bulwan gun kept
pouring shrapnel and common shell right in front of it, making all the
veldt look like a ploughed field.
Meantime the Boers on the summit held their ground. Their movement was
backed by three field guns and two automatics across the Bester's valley
at ranges of 2,000 yards and 4,000 yards. Their further advance along
the edge was really checked by two Manchester privates, Scott and Pitts,
who kept up an incessant fire from their little wall at the extremity
after all their comrades were shot. Three companies of the Rifle Brigade
at last came up to reinforce. Then the G Company of the Gordons, under
Captain Carnegie. But for a long time no one knew where the gap in our
line really was. About half-past nine one could see the enemy still
thick among the rocks and trees on the left of the extremity, though the
shrapnel was dropping all among them from the 53rd Battery. It was just
before this that Lieutenant Walker, watching with a telescope from the
signal station on the Convent, saw two Boers creeping along the edge
alone for about 150 yards under tremendous fire. Suddenly a shrapnel
took them, and both fell down. They were father and son. About half-past
ten the first assault was repulsed, and for a time the Boers
disappeared, but one could see reinforcements massing behind a hill
called the "Red Kopje," across the deep stream of the Bester's valley.
The second main attack was delivered about one, and the third during the
storm at five. I think, after the first assault, the Boer line never
advanced beyond the cover of the edge. But their incessant fire was
supported by a storm of long-range bullets from the heights across the
valley. The position was not finally cleared till nearly seven.
The attack and the defence were equally gallant, as at Waggon Hill. Our
guns were of far more service than theirs, but probably the loss by
rifle fire was not so great, the range being longer. The total force of
the attack on both positions was probably about 7,000. Some 2,000
Volunteers led the way--old Boer farmers and picked men who came forward
after a prayer meeting on Friday. For immovable courage I think it would
be impossible to beat our gunners--especially of the 42nd and 53rd
Batteries. All through the action they continued the routine of gunnery
just as if they were out for exercise on the sands.
By seven o'clock the main positions on the south side of our defences
were safe. On the north, fighting had been going on all day also. At
about 4 a.m. the artillery and rifle fire was so violent around
Observation Hill that I thought the main attack was on that point.
Originally the Boers no doubt intended a strong attack there. The hill
has always been one of the weakest points of our defence.
The Boers began their attack on Observation Hill just before dawn with a
rapid fire of guns and rifles at long range. At first only our guns
replied, the two of the 69th doing excellent work with shrapnel over the
opposite ridges. By about six we could see the Boers creeping forward
over Bell Spruit and making their way up the dongas and ridges in our
front. At about eight there was a pause, and it seemed as if the attack
was abandoned, but it began again at nine with greater violence. The
shell fire was terrific. Every kind of shell, from the 45-pounder of the
4.7 in. howitzer down to the 1-1/2-pounder of the automatic, was hurled
against those little walls, while shrapnel burst almost incessantly
overhead.
It is significant for our own use of artillery that not a single man
'was killed by shells, though the air buzzed with them. The loose stone
walls were cover enough. But the demoralising effect of shell fire is
well known to all who have stood it. A good regiment is needed to hold
on against such a storm. But the Devons are a good regiment--perhaps the
best here now--and, under the command of Major Curry, they held. At
half-past nine the rifle fire at short range became terrible.
Boers were crawling up over what little dead ground there was, and one
group of them reached an edge from which they began firing into our
breastwork at about fifteen yards. One or two of them sprang up as
though to charge. With bayonets they might have come on, but, standing
to fire, they were at once shot down. Among them was Schutte, the
commandant of the force. He was killed on the edge, with about ten
others. Then the attacking group fell back into the dead ground. Our men
got the order not to fire on them if they ran away. It was the best
means of clearing them off the hill, and they made off one by one. The
long-range fire continued all day, but there was no further rush upon
our works. Our loss was only two men killed and a few wounded. The Boer
loss is estimated at fifty, but it is impossible to know.
The King's (Liverpools), who now hold the works built by the Devons on
the low Helpmakaar ridge, were also under rifle and shell fire all day.
About 3 p.m. about eighty Boers came down the deep ravine or donga at
the further end of the ridge. A mounted infantry picket of three men was
away across the donga, watching the road towards Lombard's Nek. Instead
of retiring, they calmly lay down and fired into the thick of the Boers
whenever they saw them. Apparently the Boers had intended some sort of
attack or feint, but, instead of advancing, they remained hidden in the
donga, firing over the banks. At last Major Grattan, fearing the brave
little picket might be cut off, sent out two infantry patrols in
extended order, and the Boers did not await their coming; they hurried
up the donga into the shelter of the thorns, which just now are all
golden with balls of sweet-smelling blossom.
Soon after the sun set behind the storm of rain the fighting ceased. The
long and terrible day was done. I found myself with the Irish Fusiliers
at Range Post, where the road crosses to the foot of Waggon Hill. The
stream of ambulance was incessant--covered mule-waggons, little
ox-carts, green dhoolies carried by indomitable Hindoos, knee-deep in
water, and indifferent to every kind of death. In the sixteen hours'
fighting we have lost fourteen officers and 100 men killed, twenty-one
officers and 220 men wounded. The victory is ours. Our men have done
what they were set to do. But two or three more such victories, and
where should we be?
_Sunday, January 7, 1900._
The men remained on the position all night under arms, soaked through
and hardly fed. Rum was issued, but half the carts lost their way in the
dark, because the officers in charge had preferred to go fighting on the
loose and got wounded. The men lay in pools of rain among the dead.
Lieutenant Haag, 18th Hussars, kept apologising to the man next him for
using his legs as a pillow. At dawn he found the man was a Rifleman long
dead, his head in a puddle of blood, his stiff arms raised to the sky.
Many such things happened. Under the storm of fire it had been
impossible to recover all the wounded before dark. Some lay out fully
twenty-four hours without help, or food, or drink. One of the Light
Horse was used by a Boer as a rest for his rifle. When I reached Waggon
Hill about nine this morning the last of the wounded were being brought
down. Nearly all the Light Horse dead (twenty of them) had been taken
away separately, but at the foot of the hill lay a row of the Gordons,
bloody and stiff, their Major, Miller-Wallnutt, at their head,
conspicuous by his size. The bodies of the Rifles were being collected.
Some still lay curled up and twisted among the dripping rocks. Slowly
the waggons were packed and sent off to the place of burial.
The broad path up the hill and the tracks along the top were stained
with blood. It lay in sticky pools, which even the rain could not wash
out. It was easy to see where the dead had fallen. Most had lain behind
some rock to fire and there met their end. On the summit some Kaffirs
were skinning eight oxen which had been spanned to the "Lady Anne's"
platform, and stood immovable during the fight. Four had been shot in
the action, the others had just been killed as rations. Passing to the
further edge where the Boers crept up I saw a Boer ambulance and an
ox-waggon waiting. Bearded Boers in their slouch hats stood round them
with an English doctor from Harrismith, commandeered to serve. Our men
were carrying the Boer wounded and dead down the steep slope. The dead
were laid out in line, and put in the ox-waggon. At that time there were
seventeen of them waiting, but eight others were still on the hill, and
I found them where they fell. Most were grey-bearded men, rough old
farmers, with wrinkled and kindly faces, hardened by a grand life in sun
and weather. They were dressed in flannel shirts, rough old jackets of
brown cloth, rough trousers with braces, weather-stained slouch hats,
and every variety of boot. Only a few had socks. Some wore the yellow
"veldt-shoes," some were bare-footed; their boots had probably been
taken. They lay in their blood, their glazed blue eyes looking over the
rocks or up to the sky, their ashen hands half-clenched, their teeth
yellow between their pale blue lips.
Beside the outer wall of "Lady Anne's" sangar, his head resting on its
stones, lay a white-bearded man, poorly dressed, but refined in face. It
was De Villiers, the commandant of the Harrismith district--a relation,
a brother perhaps, of the Chief Justice De Villiers, who entertained me
at Bloemfontein less than four months ago. Across his body lay that of a
much younger man, with a short brown beard. He is thought to have been
one of the old man's field cornets, and had fought up to the sangar at
his side till a bullet pierced his eye and brain.
Turning back from the extremity of our position, I went along the whole
ridge. The ground told one as much as men could tell. Among the rocks
lay blood-stained English helmets and Dutch hats; piles of English and
Dutch cartridge-cases, often mixed together in places which both sides
had occupied; scraps of biltong and leather belts; handkerchiefs, socks,
pieces of letters, chiefly in Dutch; dropped ball cartridges of every
model--Lee-Metford, Mauser, Martini, and Austrian. I found a few
hollow-nosed bullets, too, expanding like the Dum-Dum. The effect of
such a bullet was seen on the hat of some poor fellow in the Light
Horse. There was a tiny hole on one side, but the further side was all
rent to pieces. I hear some "express" sporting bullets have also been
taken to the Intelligence Office, but I have not seen them. Beside one
Boer was found one of the old Martini rifles taken from the 52nd at
Majuba.
On the top of Cæsar's Camp our dead were laid out for
burial--Manchesters, Gordons, and Rifle Brigade together. The Boers
turned an automatic Maxim on the burying party, thinking they were
digging earthworks. In the wooded valley at the foot of the hill they
themselves, under Geneva flags, were searching the bushes and dongas
for their own dead, and disturbing the little wild deer beside the
stream. On the summit parties of our own men were still engaged
unwillingly in finding the Boer dead and carrying them down the cliff.
Just at the edge of the summit, to which he had climbed in triumph, lay
the body of a man about twenty. A shell had almost cut him in half....
Only his face and his hands were untouched. Like most of the dead he had
the blue eyes and light hair of the well-bred Boer. When first he was
found, his father's body lay beside him, shattered also, but not so
horribly. They were identified by letters from home in their pockets.