ORANGE GROVE,
NEAR JOHANNESBURG.
_Saturday, June 2nd, 1900._
On Monday, May 28th, at mid-day, we reached the Vaal River, where we
stopped and took all our superfluous kit off the horses, which left us
with one blanket per man; were provided with four biscuits each, rations
for two days, and so with light hearts and saddles, we forded Viljoen's
Drift; into the Transvaal--at last! We had a long march to catch
Roberts, but this country provides one with heaps of things to break any
monotony that might otherwise exist, for it is ever "'Ware wire," "'Ware
hole," "'Ware rock," or "'Ware ant hill," and now and again in the
thick, blinding cloud of reddish dust a man and horse go down, and
another a-top of them. Soon after dark, nearly the whole of the veldt
around us became illuminated, reminding me of a colossal Brock's Benefit
or the Jubilee Fleet Illuminations. As a matter of fact, the veldt was
a-fire. The effect was really wonderful. At about ten o'clock we reached
the main body, and being informed that Roberts was about four miles
ahead with the 11th Division, our captain decided to bivouac for the
night, and catch him up in the morning. After ringing our horses, we
wandered round in the dark, and finding a convenient cart in a barn,
soon after had a good enough fire to cook some meat we managed to
secure, and then, dead fagged, turn in to sleep. [Here I would fain
mutter an aside. When I was at home, a certain jingo song was much sung,
perhaps is still; it was entitled, "A hot time in the Transvaal
to-night." I want to find the man who wrote that song, and get him to
bivouac with us for a night, at this time of the year, with an overcoat
and one blanket.] We awoke well covered with frost, and the stars have
seldom twinkled on a more miserable set of shivering devils than we of
the 69th Company I.Y. A nibble at a biscuit, no coffee, and we were
after Roberts. We caught him up after about an hour's riding; the 11th
Division was moving out as we came up. The Guards' Brigade was going
forward on our right, and Artillery rolling forward on our left, with
ambulance waggons, carts, and general camp equipment joining in the
procession. We moved smartly on, trotting past the Guards' Brigade,
soldiers straggling on who had fallen out for one reason or another, or
sitting by the wayside attending to sore feet, till we came up with the
Staff. Our captain reported himself, and _pro tem._ we were attached to
Lord Roberts' bodyguard.
[Illustration: "_A hot time!_"]
After a halt for our mid-day grub (we had none, having devoured our
biscuits and emergency rations about three hours before, for which we
were severely reprimanded by our captain, the Hon. T. A. B.), we
proceeded again. At last we reached a ridge, and halting there, we
beheld the Rand, and about six miles to our left, Johannesburg. A
railway station having been captured, with about a dozen engines and
rolling stock, the Army bivouacked for the night. We were in a field by
a farmhouse, where we bought some meat very cheaply, and had a good
supper, which would have been all the better had we had bread or even
the once but now no more despised biscuits to eat with it. The next day
we received orders to join the 7th Battalion I.Y., so saddled up, and
passing through Elsburg and the Rose Dip, Primrose, and other mines,
joined our new Battalion at Germiston. The 7th I.Y. Battalion is a West
Country one, being composed of the Devon, Dorset, and Somerset Yeomanry
and has seen some stiff service at Dewetsdorp. In the afternoon I had
the misfortune to go out with our troop officer and another man to find
our 4th troop, which had been left behind as baggage guard. Us did he
lose (oh, the Yeomanry officer!) and when it was dark, we set out to
find our company in the great camp the other side of Elsburg. What I
said about that officer as I stumbled over rocks, ant hills, and holes,
in these, my cooler moments, it would not become my dignity to record.
The next day, Thursday (my birthday) promised to be an eventful one, and
was. Johannesburg was to be attacked if it did not surrender by ten
o'clock. With well-cleaned rifles and tightly-girthed horses, we moved
out with our Battalion at nine o'clock to take up our position. Our duty
was to attack the waterworks, if there was any resistance. However, as
you know, the place capitulated; news was brought to us that the fort
had surrendered, and we at once rapidly trotted up to it to take
possession. Arrived outside, we were dismounted and marched into it, and
drawn up in line facing the flagstaff on the fort wall. Suddenly a
little ball was run up to the truck, a jerk and the Flag of England, the
dear old Union Jack, was flying on the walls of the Johannesburg Fort.
Then we cheered for our Queen, and again, when from somewhere a chromo
of Her Gracious Majesty was produced and held aloft. Roberts' Raid had
been successful. The Boer garrison seemed more relieved than depressed.
Indeed, the commandant's servant gave us all the cold roast beef and
bread that he had. Guards having been told off, and the horses picketed
in the Police Barracks Yard, some of us had leave to go into the town. I
was one of the fortunates. The enthusiasm of the inhabitants and their
generous treatment of the men in khaki will be long remembered. The
coloured population all showed great, gleaming rows of teeth, and
ejaculated what I took to be meant for British cheers. Bread was given
away, cigars and cigarettes forced (?) upon us, and meals stood right
and left. A German girl, at a florist's, decorated about half-a-dozen of
us with red, white and blue buttonholes. We were dirty and unshaven, but
it mattered not, we were monarchs (_Vae Victis!_) and was it not my
birthday? Into the shops we went. All were closed, but we persuaded some
to open, and the good German Jew merchants let us commandeer within
reason. Haversacks and pockets were filled. The actual prices of things
were fairly high: sugar 1/6 per lb., condensed milk 2/-, golden syrup
4/- a small tin, and so on. One of our fellows, after being well fed,
was sent back to us loaded with boxes of briar pipes to distribute,
another with socks and vests; others were given Kruger pennies, as
souvenirs. And all the day, and all the night, through the streets
marched our troops, rolled and rattled our guns, our carts and waggons.
And the night, oh, what a night! For seven miles I struggled on in
charge of our ammunition cart, in search of our company, picking my way
out of a mass of bullock waggons, carts, mules, and every imaginable
vehicle; men asking for this brigade and that division on every hand;
transport officers cursing, conductors exhorting, and niggers yelling
and cracking whips.