ON THE HEADQUARTER STAFF IN SOUTH AFRICA
Early in 1899 I travelled with the late Lord Clarendon, who was at that
time Lord Chamberlain, to Coburg, to represent the Prince of Wales at
the Silver Wedding of his brother, the Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, Lord
Clarendon having been selected by Queen Victoria for a similar purpose.
We spent about a week there, at the Castle, while the fêtes connected
with that anniversary were in progress. It was a great pleasure to me
to have this opportunity of seeing their Royal Highnesses, who had been
so kind to me when on the Mediterranean Station, and talk over our
mutual recollections of the numerous cruises of the old _Surprise_. The
night we arrived we were both invited to dine with the Royal Family,
and extremely pleasant it was; but for the rest of the time there were
endless Court functions and banquets, and I found living in a small
German Court, cheek by jowl with the German Court officials, one of
the most disagreeable experiences that I can recollect. However, by
pleading that I had acquaintances in the town,--which was not strictly
true,--I managed to escape from most of the dreary household luncheons,
finding it infinitely preferable to eat by myself at the extremely
moderate hotel that was all the town of Coburg could boast of in the
shape of a restaurant. Under these circumstances, it was eminently true
that the "dinner of herbs" at that very bad inn was better than the
"stalled ox" at the Schloss.
But soon more interesting events were to take place, for before the end
of the year the South African War had begun. After what was known then
as the "black week," when, in the course of a few days, the British
public received news of three very distinct reverses, I came to the
conclusion that it was impossible for a man of my age to remain in
England if by hook or by crook he could possibly manage to get out to
Africa. The only plan I could think of was to try to get there on the
Staff, as Naval Aide-de-Camp, on the plea that there was a considerable
Naval Brigade being formed to work a battery of 4·7 guns to emulate
what had already been achieved by their comrades in Natal. I applied to
the Prince for aid, and, as usual, not in vain, for, when Field-Marshal
Lord Roberts was appointed to be Commander-in-Chief in South Africa,
through His Royal Highness' kind offices the Field-Marshal allowed
me to be appointed as Naval Aide-de-Camp on the Headquarter Staff.
As it turned out, my duties consisted in doing pretty much the same
work as the other Aides-de-Camp, the bulk of which was deciphering and
enciphering telegrams; for though when on the march I kept as much
in touch with what was called the "Cow-Gun Brigade" (the name being,
of course, derived from the team of eighteen bullocks that dragged
the guns along), I never could discover that they were in want of
anything except ammunition, the fact being, I suppose, that if any
particular article was lacking they immediately proceeded to try to
annex it, and in general they succeeded, much to the delight of the
Quarter-Master-General, who told me that they formed the only unit that
never gave him any trouble.
Apropos of the "black week," long after I had returned from South
Africa, one of Queen Victoria's gentlemen told me an interesting story
on the subject. When the bad news arrived, Queen Victoria,--though
she had much too fine, and well-trained a sense of proportion to feel
in the least nervous,--thought that nevertheless she would like to
consult some Military Authority who had a knowledge of South Africa.
Accordingly, the late Sir Evelyn Wood was summoned to Balmoral. When he
presented himself he was addressed somewhat as follows:--
"Sir Evelyn, I have sent for you to consult you about the campaign in
South Africa, but, mind, I will have no croakers here." I have always
thought that there was something deliciously Elizabethan about this
prefatory remark. All this is, I fear, a digression; but to revert to
the end of 1899,--the main point for me was to get out to South Africa
somehow, and that I succeeded in doing.
Lord Roberts sailed with his Staff on board the mail steamer just
before Christmas, calling at Gibraltar on the 26th of December to pick
up Lord Kitchener, who had been brought there direct from Egypt in a
cruiser. He duly arrived on board on that date, accompanied by his
two Aides-de-Camp, Lieutenant Walter Cowan, R.N., and Captain James
Watson. Cowan is now Rear-Admiral Sir Walter, having done excellent
work during the late war, and indeed after it, in the Baltic, while
Jimmy Watson has made a career for himself in Egypt, where, amongst
other things, he was on the personal Staff of the late Khedive, and I
fancy still rejoices in the rank of Watson Pasha. Both of these best
of good fellows became friends of mine, and I am glad to say we still
occasionally meet.
Next to my Chief and Lord Kitchener, the man who gave me the greatest
impression of outstanding ability was the late Colonel Henderson. He
was, I think, appointed to the Commander-in-Chief's Staff as Head
Intelligence Officer, and a better appointment never was made. He was
a really scientific soldier in the fullest sense of the word; as a
literary man he had written one of the very best military books ever
printed in his _Life of Stonewall Jackson_; as a lecturer at the Staff
College he had delivered some most interesting and instructive lectures
on military subjects,--indeed so clear and well-written were they
that, when published, even a sailor like myself could understand and
appreciate them. Moreover, he was a most charming companion, and always
ready (if asked) to give others the benefit of his great erudition.
Unfortunately, even then his health was failing. So ill was he that in
a very short time he had to give up riding and take to a Cape cart,
and, sad to relate, before the campaign was ended he had been invalided
home to England, and died a year or two after his return. He was
very kind to me, and,--perhaps because he was a great admirer of my
brother John's _History of the Army_,--he often gave me of his best in
conversation. It used to be my delight on board the steamer to get hold
of him after dinner and induce him to talk.
There was a considerable sprinkling of Germans and Dutchmen among the
passengers, most of whom were probably spies; but any designs they
might have entertained of making some sort of raid on the Chief's
day-cabin in the hopes of getting hold of his papers, was frustrated by
the fact that we had a gunboat's crew on board, going out to relieve
men whose time had expired on some small craft on the South African
Station. These men were at once made use of as sentries, and so we were
able to post a permanent sentry on Lord Roberts' cabin door, as well as
permanent orderlies, to be at his beck and call.
The voyage out was quite uneventful, and our steamer duly arrived at
Cape Town on January 10th. The Commander-in-Chief took up his quarters
in a very decent little house that had been reserved for him, and I
personally settled down close by at the Mount Nelson Hotel. There
was not much for the Aides-de-Camp to do while there, for the real
work of the Headquarter Staff was the preparation for the advance
to Bloemfontein, the entire transport service being reorganised and
increased by Lord Kitchener. A few days after our arrival I was sent
down to Simon's Bay to inquire into some complaints that had been
lodged by the Boer prisoners who were confined on board a transport
that was anchored there. The complaints were absolutely frivolous
and hardly worth inquiring into, but were rather amusing as giving an
insight into the character of that curious creature whom the British
Tommy invariably talked of as "Brother Boer." Their principal grievance
was that they were overcrowded. On inquiry I found out that the
transport in question had brought 1200 British troops from England, and
whenever it was the least rough all the lower main-deck ports had to
be closed, and naturally the ship was under a full head of steam all
the time she was making her passage through the tropics. Probably under
those conditions the heat and want of air was very trying, but war is
war, and discomforts must be expected. The Boer prisoners on board
numbered only 440; every sort of ventilation could be freely opened
while the ship swung round her anchors, and of course no steam was up.
So I explained to the Boer officer who was the spokesman that what was
good enough for 1200 British troops at sea was luxury for a handful of
prisoners in harbour. He was a decent fellow, and agreed with me that
there was no real cause for complaint, but went on to say that Boers
were accustomed to the freedom of the veldt and felt the confinement
very keenly. It then devolved on me to explain that our prisoners at
Pretoria, living behind barbed wire, were also, not exactly, having the
time of their lives. This seemed to come quite as a revelation to him,
and of course I reported that they had nothing whatever to complain of,
and the matter dropped.
I had one or two more trips over to Simon's Bay to report on the 4·7
guns that were being fitted out there as a battery of mobile siege
guns, to be used in the field, and manned by the Naval Brigade.
Another little suburban trip I made was to Stellenbosch. (The name
later became, used as a verb, a polite form of speech for denoting the
fact that some unfortunate official had proved incompetent, and had
to be got rid of.) When I went there it boasted of a large remount
establishment, the animals being mostly Argentine cobs and Cape ponies.
I succeeded in getting hold of two very useful ones, the Cape pony
in particular turning out to be a treasure. I had accompanied Lord
Kitchener and some of his Staff, who were, I expect, inspecting the
establishment from the point of view of transport.
Altogether we were just about two months at Cape Town, and very weary
we all were of the place and right glad when the orders came at last
to go to the front! The pleasantest incidents in the life there was
the constant meeting of all sorts of old friends, who generally turned
up for dinner at Groote-Schurr, which, at that time, had been lent by
Mr. Cecil Rhodes to Lady Edward Cecil and Lady Charles Bentinck, who
were very busy at war work in the town close at hand. Then every day
fresh arrivals turned up from England; my cousin, Lady Bagot, (then
Mrs. Joycelyn Bagot), and Lady Henry Bentinck had come out to look
after the Portland Hospital; the present Lord Derby, then Lord Stanley,
arrived on the scene as Press Censor,--and all one's friends that came
down from the front, either wounded or for a few days' leave, generally
turned up at Groote-Schurr, where open house was kept by Cecil Rhodes
for his temporary tenants and their friends.
The only other work we Aides-de-Camp had was to cipher and decipher the
telegrams that poured in all day, which were not finally disposed of
until nearly midnight, and two of us were generally on duty with the
Chief when he was inspecting or going for a constitutional ride in the
cool of the evening.
But on the 6th of February our stay at Cape Town came to an end, and
the Headquarter Staff left by train for the Modder, and then events
succeeded each other pretty quickly. On the 11th Lord Roberts' flank
march began. As concerned the Headquarter Staff, we moved first to
Ramdam, and by the 15th were at Jacobsdaal, where we received the good
news that French had relieved Kimberley. On the 17th, Cronje was held
up at Paardeberg, and on the 19th Lord Roberts and his Staff arrived
there.
I am not going into details about the action at Paardeberg. After what
we have experienced lately, I suppose no soldier, nowadays, would do
otherwise than agree that it would have been worth while, even at the
expense of a considerable quantity of casualties, to have bundled
Cronje out of his laager without further delay. Even if a good many men
might have been sacrificed in such an assault, they would have been few
compared to those who perished later of the germs of typhoid probably
picked up during that ten days' wait at Paardeberg. The river being
full of dead animals, the water the men were drinking was poisonous.
Now, the British soldier is a thirsty animal (and, indeed, as far as
the infantryman is concerned, he has every right to be, when, as in
Africa, he was carrying a heavy kit under a burning sun and enveloped
in clouds of dust). The result was that the men were, more than
probably, absorbing typhoid germs during the whole of their stay there.
When the Headquarter Staff arrived there on the 19th there were rumours
of an immediate surrender. There must have been further parleys
of which I knew nothing, for a few days later I was sent under a
white flag to the Boers' laager with a letter addressed to the Boer
Commandant. After I had crossed the drift held by the Boers, I was
received by them with perfect civility, and duly delivered my letter,
to which, apparently, there was no answer, as I did not bring one back,
but I remember well the difficulty I had in getting my horse to cross
and recross, so piled up was the river at this fording-place with dead
and putrefying animals. A very few days later, on February 27th, I was
riding in the same direction again, this time to accompany one of the
Generals on the Headquarter Staff, Prettyman by name, who was sent out
by the Chief to bring Cronje in. I suppose it was on the strength of
this casual acquaintance that Cronje, after his surrender, very much to
my disgust, elected to annex my own particular shelter in the Camp, for
the use of himself and his old wife, who was the living image of the
late Dan Leno when made up for the Christmas pantomime; but it was only
for a short time, as he and his 4000 fellow-prisoners were sent down to
the Cape next day, most of them _en route_ for St. Helena.
The next day we had the news of the relief of Ladysmith, on the
anniversary of our defeat at Majuba Hill, with all the disgraceful
memories of the peace that had been patched up after it. Now at last
the disgrace had been wiped out. Well might the Boers say that, after
Paardeberg and Ladysmith, we had robbed them even of their Majuba Day.
We were soon on the move after Cronje's surrender, and by the 12th of
March had occupied Bloemfontein. We met with but few difficulties on
the road, the only serious trouble being to keep supplies going, and
ensure a sufficiency of water. There was one not inconsiderable action
on the way, which was fought at Dreifontein, and I was lucky enough to
see rather more of it than usual. I had been sent on to select some
quarters for the Chief, if there happened to be any available, and had
succeeded in finding quite a decent farm, for the moment occupied by
our wounded, which would answer the purpose; so my job being completed,
and the rest of the Headquarter Staff being many hours behind, I went
on with some of my friends among the special correspondents to watch
the fighting. I remember that Mr. Gwynne (then, I think, the special
correspondent of Reuter, now the well-known editor of the _Morning
Post_) and I settled ourselves down on the top of a very comfortable
little kopje, at a convenient distance on the flank of our advance,
and watched some of the infantry of the Sixth Division take the Boer
position. The Boers were holding a line of kopjes within easy view
from where we were ensconced, and were keeping up a hot fire on our
advancing troops--who were attacking in the most orthodox way in short
rushes, and making use of all the cover available. When our troops had
fought their way close up to the Boer line we distinctly saw a Boer
show himself on the sky-line with his arms up in an obvious attitude of
surrender. The attacking force, thinking that it was all over, at once
showed themselves, and were received by a heavy volley at close range,
which killed and wounded a number of them; the rest, without a pause,
rushed on, and in a few minutes the position was captured. As always,
the British soldier showed the greatest magnanimity, and instead of
bayoneting the Boers, as they had a perfect right to do for what
certainly appeared to be a distinct act of treachery, they contented
themselves with making prisoners of all those who had not succeeded in
bolting off on their ponies. The little action at Dreifontein was a
very considerable success, and might have been an important one, were
it not that, as usual, the underfed and overworked cavalry horses were
so exhausted that a pursuit was rendered impossible.
Two days later, on March 13th, Lord Roberts entered Bloemfontein.
During the early morning of that day I had been sent forward to see
if I could find some halting-place where the Headquarter Staff could
breakfast, and was fortunate enough to find a very comfortable farm for
that purpose, which, as it turned out, belonged to a brother-in-law of
Steyn's. The lady of the house, who was quite a nice woman, received us
very amiably, but told us that the Boers never expected we should have
left the river and marched in the way we did, as they were persuaded
that the route we took would result in the army inevitably perishing
of thirst, so waterless was that bit of country. I expect the margin
was narrow, but events justified the selection made, and all was well.
Just as the Headquarter Staff rode into the town, a column arrived, so
Lord Roberts and his Staff halted and pulled out of the way to allow
the Grenadier Guards to march in. It was a magnificent sight. The men,
after a terrific march, caked with dust, parched with thirst, and
literally in rags, swung past their Chief with their heads erect, and
all the air of conquerors. For the moment all fatigue seemed to have
left them, and they marched as if they were returning to their barracks
after an hour's exercise in Hyde Park.
Bloemfontein for the first week or so was quite a pleasant change after
about six weeks on the march through a very thirsty country. We began
by being billeted in the sort of Government House usually occupied by
Steyn and his family. It was quite a good and well-built house, and
four of us occupied a large room on the second floor, which we believed
to be Mrs. Steyn's bedroom. I remember we came to the conclusion that
the lady in question must have been somewhat primitive in her toilet
arrangements, for nothing in the shape of washing utensils were to be
seen; such a thing as a bath, for instance, was obviously non-existent,
and indeed there was not even a water-tap above the ground floor.
However, my room-mates and myself, who all happened to be old friends,
settled down very comfortably. They were Lord Dudley and his brother,
Jack Ward (the present Sir John Ward), and Lord Stanley, who was still
doing duty as Press Censor. A short time afterwards, when Colonel
Neville Chamberlain gave up his post as Private Secretary to the
Commander-in-Chief, Stanley succeeded him, and later accompanied the
Chief home. I was unlucky enough to have taken rather a bad chill after
a very soaking night at Paardeberg, and though I managed to stick it
out until our arrival at Bloemfontein, I had to lay up for a few days
with a good deal of fever, so being the invalid of the party I was
allotted the only bed, the rest of my comrades sleeping more or less
on the floor. There being nothing particular to do for the moment, the
doctor thought I might just as well get a little change and rest, so
as soon as I had got rid of my little feverish attack I went down to
Cape Town for a week, partly for change of air, and principally to buy
stores for the Headquarter Mess. The railway was running through to the
Cape all right, the only trouble being that the Boers had blown up the
big railway bridge at Norval's Pont, so on my way down I had to cross
the river in a boat.
Nothing in South Africa impressed me so greatly as the efficiency of
the Railway Corps. I crossed the Orange River three times in three
months, the first time, as above mentioned, in a boat, the second time,
a week later, in a train over a temporary bridge, and three months
afterwards in a train running over the permanent bridge that is there
to this day. During the whole of the advance to Pretoria, when marching
along the line, the Railway Engineers succeeded in keeping pace with
the Army on the march, bringing up not only their repairing plant, but
stores for the Army as well. Though we, who were riding close to the
railway line, could see all the rails standing on-end, twisted like
corkscrews for miles ahead of us, and though the ponts which crossed
the innumerable spruits were one and all blown up, the trains succeeded
in keeping up with the troops; and even the bridge over the Valsch
River at Kroonstadt, which is a real river, only delayed them for a
few days. In fact, the ordinary wreckage of war is repaired almost as
quickly as it is created.
I spent a pleasant week at Groote-Schurr. Cecil Rhodes had returned
there after the relief of Kimberley; his brother Frankie, still
looking very thin after the privations of the Ladysmith siege, was
taking a brief holiday in his brother's house. Alas! he also is no
longer with us. He was one of my oldest friends, for I had known him
since my young days, when hunting from Grantham. He was the kindest of
men, and those of the beleaguered garrison of Ladysmith, who knew him
during the siege, were always full of stories of his generosity and
unselfishness. Ian Hamilton, now General Sir Ian, was another Ladysmith
man who came there for a few days' fattening-up, Billy Lambton, then a
Captain in the Coldstream Guards (now General Sir William), was also
a guest, during his recovery from a severe shell-wound in the knee
received at Magersfontein; whilst the two ladies--Lady Edward Cecil and
Lady Charles Bentinck--were still doing their work at Cape Town, with
Groote-Schurr for their headquarters.
When my week's leave had expired, four of us took the train back to
Bloemfontein, but I may as well quote an old letter I wrote home at the
time to describe my journey.
"We started up a party of four, the two Groote-Schurr ladies,
Artie Stanley, and myself. We had two very comfortable
carriages, one for the ladies and one for the men, and no
end of provisions and champagne provided for us by our kind
host. It was all very cheery as far as Norval's Pont, where
the railway authorities succeeded in getting our train bodily
over the temporary bridge that spanned the Orange River.
At Norval's Pont they had just had the news of Broadwood's
disaster at Sanna's Post, and the funks had rather set in on
the line. Admiral Maxse had telegraphed to his daughter (Lady
Edward Cecil) forbidding her to come up any further, and Artie
Stanley also received a telegram telling him that no civilians
were to go on, so all my pleasant companions were bundled out
of the train and their places taken by various officers. After
a very long delay we got off, and in the middle of the night,
at one of the stations, we were all wakened up and ordered to
have rifles ready, for the Boers were said to be on the line
somewhere. However, it turned out to be only a scare, and as I
did not possess a rifle it did not concern me, and eventually
in due course, without any further disturbance, the train
arrived here. Next day all was peace again, so telegrams were
sent to the ladies to say that they might come up, which they
promptly did. The day after the panic season set in again, and
they were packed off back again to the base. When I got back
I found that all the Staff, except the Chief's own particular
little lot, had been shot out of Government House, so, greatly
to our comfort, Eddy Stanley, Dudley, Bend d'Or (the Duke of
Westminster) and I, find ourselves lodged on the ground floor
of a very decent house belonging to one Fischer, a prominent
Boer statesman, who has bolted."
The next fortnight at Bloemfontein was very dull and uneventful,
and, moreover, rather depressing with the knowledge, that hard work
and bad water were, between them, responsible for about 1500 enteric
cases in the Bloemfontein hospitals. The daily round was monotonous
enough. At seven every morning I was in the saddle, and generally went
round to see the Naval Brigade, who had made themselves and their
cow-guns extremely comfortable at the top of a neighbouring kopje,
but as they never were in need of anything, my visits were of the
perfunctory order. Later in the day, I took my turn with the other
Aides-de-Camp to ride in attendance on the Chief, and work away at
the usual deciphering and enciphering business. But our little home,
thanks to the fact that one of its leading inhabitants, Lord Stanley,
was Press Censor, was, I verily believe, the "hub" of Bloemfontein.
Thither all the Press correspondents, some eighty in number and locally
known as "Stanley's Light Horse," used to repair to get their perpetual
messages censored, and (low be it spoken!) when news was scanty, as it
very often was during the long halt at Bloemfontein, to try and pick
up a few crumbs from us. Between us, we generally could produce the
latest camp stories, and when there was nothing better, those very
unveracious statements had to serve. The "Specials" had amongst their
ranks a number of very clever people, to say nothing of at least one
very distinguished man in the person of Mr. Rudyard Kipling, whose
acquaintance I made then for the first time. Amongst the veterans were
Mr. Bennett Burleigh and Mr. Melton Prior, both old acquaintances of
mine, whose names had been known for years all over the Empire, whilst
amongst the younger men were Messrs. Gwynne, Perceval Landon, and
Prevost Battersby,--the latter I had got to know well on the voyage
out, we having been fellow-passengers in the same steamer.
It very soon was deemed necessary to start a newspaper, and the
_Friend_ was produced to supply the want, under the auspices of Rudyard
Kipling, Perceval Landon, and Gwynne,--a veritable galaxy of talent.
It was only the other day that Mr. Kipling and I were talking over old
Bloemfontein days, and he gave me a delightful account of how he and
his coadjutors, having a good deal of space at their disposal, filled
it up with advertisements stating that certain little shops in the town
could provide every sort of luxury. Most of these said luxuries were
purely imaginary and probably have not even penetrated to Bloemfontein
to this day, and he went on to describe the rage of the crowds of
customers who had at once swarmed into the town thinking to do their
shopping!
Towards the end of April, Dudley and I got a few days' leave from our
Chief to accompany a flying column that was going to Taban-Tchu under
the command of Ian Hamilton. We loaded up a Cape cart with provisions
and once more started on the trek. And a delightful change it was to be
on the veldt again after living for so long in that rather poisonous
little town! The objective of the expedition was, I believe, that of
a rounding-up movement designed to surround the Boer forces, who were
said to be moving to the northward somewhere in that neighbourhood.
Unfortunately, the Boers were too quick for us, and there was no
apparent result, and with the exception of some desultory skirmishing
on the outskirts of Taban-Tchu and Israel Port, the column to which
we had attached ourselves had but little fighting to do. Viewed as a
pleasure trip it was very agreeable, as the climate was perfection and,
to us, it was all new country.
By the end of the week I was back at Bloemfontein again, but this time
only for a very few days, as the long, weary period of waiting there
had come to an end, and on May 3rd Lord Roberts, with the Headquarter
Staff, went by train to Karri Siding, to assume direct command of the
Army that was now on the march to Pretoria. It is not my intention to
describe Lord Roberts' march to Pretoria, except from the point of view
of a spectator. Very little fighting took place, but it struck me that
the Boers were distinctly clever. They wasted a great many days for
us by repeatedly putting up a show that was just big enough to force
our invading army to deploy, and the loss of time involved made a very
considerable hole in the short winter days of May and June.
By the 12th of May Kroonstadt had been occupied; the Boers had, of
course, destroyed the railway bridge that crosses the Valsch River, and
it took our railway engineers the best part of a week to span that very
fair-sized stream with a temporary bridge that could carry the train.
By the 22nd we were on the move again to the northward, and on the 27th
the Main Army crossed the Vaal River at Vereeniging, and the invasion
of the Transvaal had definitely begun. On the 31st May Johannesburg was
captured. I am again quoting from a letter which I wrote home at the
time.
"It was rather fun riding into Johannesburg, but really
anything like the villainous faces of the crowd I have never
seen. All the Boers, and most of the Dutch and English, had
either cleared out or been cleared out. There was nothing left
but a mob of low-class foreign Jews, most of them Germans.
Never have I seen such brutes, and my first feeling was one of
intense regret that the Boers had not exploded the mines and
blown up the entire population at the same time."
A little less than a week later (June 5th, 1900) Pretoria was reached
and was entered by the Commander-in-Chief after a very trifling
opposition. The central column, with which the Headquarter Staff
moved, had done the 300 miles--that is the distance from Bloemfontein
to Pretoria--in thirty-four days, which was good going. The flank
columns had even a harder time. Ian Hamilton started three days earlier
from Taban-Tchu with his column, and marched 380 miles, having only
had eight days' halt during the whole thirty-seven days. The night
we arrived at Pretoria a most amusing dinner was organised by Lord
Rosslyn to celebrate the occasion, and I suppose also to commemorate
his personal release from captivity, for he had been for some time a
prisoner of war at Pretoria. It was immense fun, every one being in the
highest spirits. The dinner took place at the hotel, and the company
consisted more or less of junior officers from every branch of the
Service, released prisoners, and a number of special correspondents;
and I, having managed to commandeer a bedroom on the premises, did my
dinner party very comfortably.
Life on the Headquarter Staff at Pretoria was very much on the model of
Bloemfontein, with even more telegrams to cope with, but the monotony
was broken by the two days' indecisive action at Diamond Hill--a
position that Botha had occupied about sixteen miles from the capital,
which was, so long as there was a decent-sized Boer Army there, a
distinct menace to Pretoria. The action began early on June 11th, and
fighting went on during that and the ensuing day. It was successful in
that the Boers retreated and left us in possession of their position,
but was quite indecisive, as there was no pursuit, and for more than a
month Botha's commandos were giving us trouble in the neighbourhood of
the battlefield.
Personally, I was a heavy loser in the action of Diamond Hill, for my
next brother, Lionel, then second in command of the 17th Lancers, was
shot dead by a bullet through the heart when in command of a squadron
of that regiment. He and a subaltern of his, Lieut. Charles Cavendish,
a son of the late Lord Chesham, and the late Lord Airlie, commanding
the 9th Lancers, all fell there and were buried together on the field.
A few days after the action of Diamond Hill I was in attendance on
the Chief on rather an interesting occasion, namely when he rode out
to meet Baden-Powell, who arrived at Pretoria just about a month
after the relief of Mafeking. A few days afterwards I went by train
to Johannesburg, partly on a shopping expedition and partly to see a
great friend of mine, Bobby White, who was about to start a syndicate
there to finance the tramways. My travelling companions were two of the
ladies who had arrived with Baden-Powell from Mafeking--Lady Sarah
Wilson and Mrs. Godley, both of whom had been through the siege there
and were on their way home to England, whither I was, before very long,
to follow them.
After two days at Johannesburg I was back again at Pretoria; but my
time in Pretoria was rapidly drawing to an end. The Naval Brigade had
left the vicinity of Headquarters, so I had no excuse in the way of
looking after their wants, as they were far out of my reach. Life at
Pretoria was more dull than words can describe, the only duty being
the eternal ciphering, which I came to the conclusion could be done
just as well by the numerous subalterns on Lord Roberts' Staff as by an
officer of my standing. I consequently decided, as there was nothing
to do, that I might just as well return to my duties on the Staff of
the Prince of Wales. Early in July I left Pretoria for Cape Town, and
arrived in England at the end of the month.
Africa had been an interesting experience, especially the long marches
from the Modder to Pretoria, and my time there was, as long as we were
on the move, really delightful. There is something extraordinarily
attractive about the high veldt; the air is as exhilarating as
champagne, and the endless rolling plain without a boundary to be seen
has a charm which it is not easy to describe; and though the sun may
be occasionally too fierce, and the cold at nights rather too severe
after the heat, it is none the less a marvellous climate, and, barring
the want of water, it is an ideal place for campaigning. Moreover, the
greater part of the time I was living with some of my best friends,
and, for a sailor, it was a new experience to see a large British
Army doing its job. Besides my old friends, I made the acquaintance
of many new ones, several of whose names have since become household
words during the late war. To say nothing of such celebrities as Lords
Roberts and Kitchener, there were Douglas Haig (or rather Lord Haig
as he is now), General Lord Rawlinson, Admiral Sir Walter Cowan, all
of whom were Staff Officers in those days; and looking over some old
letters, written out there, I can congratulate myself on the prescience
which led me to prophesy that the then Major Douglas Haig was sure to
make a name for himself in the future. The only fly in the ointment was
that, by going abroad, I had missed a very interesting treble event,
namely Ambush winning the Grand National, and Diamond Jubilee securing
the Two Thousand Guineas and Derby for the Prince; but it does not
need much philosophy to grasp the fact that a man cannot be in two
places at once, and good fun as it is to back winners, it was far more
satisfactory to have had the privilege of seeing the most interesting
part of the South African War from the vantage point of the Headquarter
Staff.