We were awakened the next morning while it was still dark. I roamed
about in the gloom searching for my errant Rosinante. After describing
half a dozen circles I returned to the waggon, to find the missing steed
no longer astray, but peacefully grazing away about six feet from the
aforesaid vehicle. It was a demon of a horse, no doubt about that. We
upsaddled and stood shivering in the cold, our ears and noses fast
becoming frostbitten, and waited for the body of the column to catch up
to us, for it now appeared that everyone had gone to sleep where he
pleased the night before. De Wet was in a furious rage.
"I told them we were to be in Heilbron at sunrise!" he shouted. "I wish
the British would catch and castrate every one of them, so that they may
be old women in reality."
His railing did not accelerate the approach of the loiterers, and it was
long after sunrise when we finally made a start for Heilbron--nine miles
distant. When we neared the town Scheepers, myself, and another went
forward to reconnoitre. What was our surprise to find that the whole
place was full of English! They had suddenly entered the town the night
before. I at once went back and informed De Wet, who ordered the column
to halt and outspan. Testing the telegraph line, I found that whereas
there were no British signals audible, our own signals from Frankfort
could be heard very plainly. The Frankfort telegraphist was busy calling
Heilbron, not knowing that the town had again changed masters. As his
was an ordinary Morse instrument I could not communicate with him, but I
did the next best thing by cutting the wire. The presence of the enemy
in Heilbron was a check for us. We did not expect Colville to come
forward so rapidly. It was necessary to modify our plan of campaign, and
De Wet and several of the commandants rode to a farm some six miles away
to consult with the President, who had pitched his tent at that spot.
Scheepers was still away scouting. His men made no effort to prepare any
food, and as I was beginning to suffer from hunger the situation was
anything but pleasant for me. It is hard to realise the amount of
selfishness which generally prevails in a laager or commando. It is a
case of everyone for himself. There is no regular distribution of
rations every day, as in other armies. The commando is divided into
messes of about ten men each. To this mess is given every now and then a
live ox and a bag of meal. The ox is killed and cut into biltong, and
the meal baked into stormjagers, a kind of dumpling fried in dripping.
Now Scheepers' little corps, which consisted of half a dozen men, was
probably not very well off itself in the matter of provisions--in any
case, they offered me none. The commissariat consisted of nothing but
oxen and meal, cold comfort for me. I rode back a couple of miles to a
spot where a field telegraph office had been opened. Standing in the
open veld under the telegraph line was a Cape cart, under the cart a
telegraph instrument. This was the office.
"Can you give me anything to eat?" I asked the telegraphist, one of our
most capable men.
"Very sorry," he answered; "I've been here for a week, and no one has
troubled to send me any food. I've managed to get a loaf of bread from
that farm yonder now and then, but their supply is exhausted, and I
don't know what to do next."
"Why don't you ask the President's party for food? We all know they fare
well enough."
"I've sent them message after message, but can get no satisfaction. All
they think about is the amount of work they can get out of me. Little
they care what my troubles are!"
This was really a shameful state of affairs, and I began to grow
disgusted with the whole business. Not satisfied with refusing to supply
him with food, a passing commando had stolen his cart-horses, so that he
had no means of leaving the spot.
It was a clear case of selfish and brutal neglect. I condoled with the
poor fellow, and rode back to the laager. De Wet was still absent. It
appeared that we were going to lie there for days, instead of the whole
expedition being over in a day or two. After thinking the matter over, I
decided to return to Frankfort and carry out my intention of going back
to the Transvaal. Upon reaching Frankfort I explained the matter to the
Postmaster-General, adding that the expedition would probably take a
couple of weeks, by which time the Free State would already be cut off
from the Transvaal, and my return rendered impossible. He urged upon me,
however, to postpone my departure. During the day a telegram arrived
from De Wet, saying he had now decided to move forward, and asking that
I should accompany him. So convinced was I that his attempt would end in
a fiasco, in spite of his knowledge of the enemy's movements, that I
persuaded the chief to send another in my place. De Wet was extremely
annoyed, but I was foolish enough to insist. Judge of my regret when, a
week or so later, we heard of the magnificent blow delivered at
Roodewal. After this sudden swoop De Wet returned to the vicinity of
Heilbron. The chief and I drove out to his camp. It was interesting to
see his entire band clad in complete khaki, with only the flapping,
loose-hanging felt hats to show their nationality. Wristlets, watches,
spy-glasses, chocolate, cigarettes, were now as common as in ordinary
times they were rare. Heliographic and telegraphic instruments by the
cartload. No doubt about it, Roodewal came at an opportune moment.
Roberts was pressing Botha hard in front, and this stunning blow at his
lines of communication compelled him to pause. Think of his forces
fighting through that rigorous winter, wearing only their summer
uniforms! No wonder their ardour grew cool!
Theron's corps now came through from the Transvaal and joined De Wet.
Theron, dissatisfied with his treatment by the Transvaal Government, was
here received with open arms. His hundred and fifty young fellows were
as keen as ever; it did one's eyes good to see one corps at least where
discipline was not despised. Theron was a slightly built young lawyer,
with an expression of the deepest sadness, due to the premature decease
of his _fiancée_. He took care of his men, fed and horsed them well, led
them into hot corners and saw them safely out again. Terrible indeed
must be the engagement when one of Theron's men is abandoned by his
comrades. "No cowards need apply" was the motto of the band, held
together by an _esprit de corps_ without equal; and no cowards did. When
the corps passed Frankfort Theron commandeered a horse from an alleged
British subject. The latter threatened to appeal to the Government, and
came into town for the purpose, vowing vengeance on Theron's devoted
head.
"I enjoy myself," said Theron to me, "when they threaten me. It is when
they come to me with soft words that I cannot resist."
As a matter of fact, the Government sustained Theron's action, and the
owner of the animal was obliged to ask Theron to take two others for it.
This he agreed to do, and thus ended the only instance of which I know
in which the Free State Government allowed anything to be commandeered
from a British subject.
The capture of the Yeomanry took place about this time. There have been
several attempts to explain this affair. It was said in our laagers at
the time that Colonel Sprague, immediately after his surrender, remarked
to our commandant that he would shoot the Lindley telegraphist if he
could get hold of him, because the latter had tampered with his message
asking for reinforcements. This was quite possible, for at this time
_most of the British telegrams passed through our hands before reaching
their destination_. If I might venture to express an opinion, formed at
the time, I should say that General Colville was absolutely free from
any blame in connection with the capture of the Yeomanry--an incident to
which we attached very little importance, being interested merely in the
military qualities of our opponents, and in their social rank not at
all.
When Rundle's force was at Senekal and Brabant's Horse at Harmonia every
one of their telegrams was read by a telegraphist attached to one of the
commandoes lying in the vicinity. Several of these messages were in
cipher, it is true, but many of them were not. It was largely owing to
information thus obtained that the British sustained a rather severe
check when they advanced against our positions near Senekal. One would
think the enemy would have taken strict precautions against their plans
leaking out in this manner, but I presume we were considered rather too
dense for that kind of thing.
The affair of Roodewal decided Roberts to send back a strong column to
keep us off his flanks. It was only infantry, and we got quite tired of
waiting for it to reach us. It reached Villiersdorp eventually, and we
fell back from Frankfort towards Bethlehem--the new headquarters. It was
with heavy hearts that we said good-bye to our kind friends in
Frankfort, for well we knew by this time what the passage of a British
column meant for the defenceless non-combatants--houses broken down and
burnt, children and greybeards torn from their families, and all the
other useless and unnecessary cruelties that have broken so many lives,
converted so many joyous homesteads into tombstones of black despair,
and imprinted into the very souls of many Afrikanders an ineradicable
loathing and hatred of everything British. As Boadicea felt towards the
Roman, so feels many a Boer matron to-day against the Briton, and when
Britons shall have followed Romans into the history of the past, the
Afrikander race shall write an epitaph upon their cenotaph. Ambition! By
that sin fell the angels, and by that sin fall the Angles. But oh, the
pity of it! For of all the nations that in turn have risen and waxed
great upon the surface of the globe, there are none for whose ideals the
Boers feel more sympathy than for those of the British. It is the
paralysing difference between the ideal and the real that is creating
the gulf which threatens our eternal separation.