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 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 the enterprising jockey who won this remarkable
"Derby." Shabby as we were, we subscribed L115 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 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 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
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 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.