BRITISH TREACHERY AT COLENSO.
Now I pass on to Colenso, where, in a short time some lively work was
to be done, and, in passing, I must try to put the reader in a position
to see the situation as it really was. Do not be frightened, however,
for I am not going to give you long descriptions of positions or
battles in the future, but will confine myself to relating just what I
think will prove most interesting and nothing more. If my life depended
upon it, I could not write even an approximately correct history of the
war; and I am sure that no one else could do it, because the military
operations were spread over such a large extent of country. Of course
the London _Times_ has published a correct history of the war, and so
has Conan Doyle written and published a correct history of the war; the
only time that a great newspaper and a popular novelist ever competed
in the art of fiction. Both won.
During the Battle of Modderspruit, General Lucas Meyer fell sick and
went home. No one wished him to die, but no one was sorry that he had
to go home. He was as hopelessly incompetent to command as either
General Erasmus or General Schalk Burger, and that is saying a great
deal. The gods were with us now, sure enough, for Louis Botha, a
private, was made a general in Meyer's place. Botha was young,--about
thirty-five,--energetic, brave, a quick and able soldier, and he at
once put himself to work. He made the Boers dig trenches in the hills
and along the river bank in front of Colenso, and built stone walls
for protection, for he knew that Buller would come with a strong force
and many cannon. Certain it was that a big battle was to be fought at
Colenso, because Ladysmith must be relieved. The Tugela wound along
at the base of the hills, and beyond it was an open plain over which
Buller must come. Botha was now ready for any army that might show
itself. The railway bridge and the wagon road-crossing were just in
front of his line of trenches, and there the heavy fighting must take
place.
Buller with about 35,000 men and ninety-six cannon finally came into
view, camped at the little towns of Chieveley and Frere, about six or
seven miles away, and from there sent out his reconnoitring parties.
The Boers "laid low and said nothing," not a rifle or cannon was fired,
and all was as silent as the grave.
On December 15th, General Buller made up his mind to relieve Ladysmith,
as, apparently, there was no obstacle in his way. He moved out his
forces in beautiful battle-array, brought his cannon into position and
opened fire upon all the hills. If there were really any Boers in those
hills his heavy lyddite shells would soon make them shift and abandon
those parts. Soon the earth seemed to be in a tremble, gravel and
stones were whizzing through the air, and the roaring of the bursting
shells on the hills and mountains in the rear was simply terrific and
deafening, yet the Boers "laid low and said nothing." Soon the English
became convinced that there was no enemy in the hills or along the
river banks, so all the cannon ceased firing and a deadly silence
reigned as the English-Irish regiments with steady step advanced toward
the river. When within easy range, the silent Boers along the river
banks raised their mausers, made them sing in unerring tones, and, at
the same time, Captain Pretorius roared from the hills his pom-pom
and cannon to make complete the scene of death and destruction. Soon
the plain of Colenso was strewn with dead and wounded Irish Tommies,
and at the very time when the battle was raging at its highest pitch,
ambulances in great numbers rushed into the field, apparently to assist
the unfortunate, but, in fact, to stop the Boers in their deadly work.
[Illustration: COMMANDANT GENERAL LOUIS BOTHA.]
Screened by these ambulances, twelve Armstrong cannon came into the
field, but the quick eye of Captain Pretorius detected them, and
at once he sent some shells that landed among them. These then
scattered and fled for safety and exposed the twelve cannon to the
Boer and his mauser. Artillery men and artillery horses were quickly
shot down and the guns rendered useless. Rescuing parties made bold
attempts to save the guns, but the Boer and his mauser mowed them down.
Here it was that Lieutenant Roberts, a son of Lord Roberts, an English
politician and financier, bravely met his death.
Now the British began to fall back, and about 200 Boers and Irish boys
rushed across the river, seized ten of the guns (two had been rescued),
Colonel Bullock and a good bunch of prisoners, and recrossed the river,
landing in safety within their own lines. Strange to say, all this was
accomplished right under the eyes of the whole British force, without
any resistance being offered. They all evidently felt sick, had had
enough and wanted to go home, and they did, without delay or ceremony
return to their homes in Chieveley and Frere.
General Louis Botha had now fought his first battle, won an easy
victory and destroyed British prestige, and that, too, with a loss
of but six men killed and a small number wounded. I don't know what
the English loss was, and I don't believe the English know either,
for it was only last September or October that Mr. Chamberlain, in
answer to a question on the subject made by a Scotch member, stated
that the list of the dead in South Africa was not yet completed. It is
barely possible that Mr. Chamberlain is still waiting for his missing
thousands to show up. Sure it is, St. Peter has completed the list,
and when Chamberlain and Milner follow up Rhodes, no doubt each will
be supplied with certified rolls of the names of their thousands of
victims in South Africa. I can see a very warm future ahead for the
South African Trinity.
After all was over, the British sent a wail to the remotest part of the
civilized world, to the effect that the Boers had deliberately fired
upon the red cross ambulance, in utter disregard of the rules of the
Geneva Convention. Those ambulances were rushed into the immediate
line of fire in order to stop the Boers from shooting down the English
soldiers, and, at the same time, to serve as a screen for the two
batteries in reaching their coveted position. The infamous game was
detected, a shell scattered and put to flight the ambulances, the
Tommies continued to fall, and ten guns of the two batteries being now
completely exposed and within easy mauser range, were quickly captured.
Yes, Mr. Englishman, as you cannot fight honorably and win, you must
resort to infamous methods and manufacture excuses for failure out of
deliberate falsehoods. Had your little game succeeded, the batteries
reached their coveted position and proved disastrous to the Boer
forces, it would never have occurred to you to mention this ambulance
incident.
General Botha having granted General Buller all the time he wished for
to care for his thousands of dead and wounded, the Boers returned to
their pipes and coffee, their usual daily services and their peaceful
way of camp life, without its once occurring to them that their deeds,
on that day, had made them known, respected and honored throughout the
civilized world.
Of course this does not include the British Government in London,
Silly Billy of Germany or the English Government in Washington, D.C.
The fifty Irish boys who went down for the day and were in the very
hottest of the fight, and who particularly distinguished themselves by
being among the very first to seize the English cannon, now returned
to camp at Modderspruit; but they were so restless and jubilant that
it was plain that something must be done to pacify them, so it was
suggested that we arrange for some sports, as Christmas was very near
at hand. This suggestion hit just the right place with all of them,
and it was decided to have horse races, athletic sports and some kind
of a banquet too. Christmas day was to be the day, and the boys went
to the different commandos, invited all who had fast horses to come
and try their luck, and all who felt that they could run, jump, throw
heavy weights, etc. Nor did they fail to tell every one that all would
have an opportunity to take a smack at Irish cooking. Every thing went
beautifully, a half-mile track was prepared, plenty of food was cooked,
and all was in readiness when Christmas day came.
Boers with fast horses from all the commandos were there. Athletes
representing all commandos; generals, commandants and veldtcornets were
there; young ladies and old ones, too, from Pretoria, Johannesburg,
Dundee and other towns, were entertained by the Irish boys. All gazed
in admiration at the colors that waved to and fro with the breeze, for
they saw the Vierkleur, the Green Flag with the Harp, the Star and
Stripes, the Tricolor of France, and the German and Holland flags that
floated over the Irish camp.
It was a day of jubilee without a queen, a day for brave and patriotic
hearts to assemble, a day for a liberty-loving and God-fearing people
to rejoice and be merry. It was not a day for a titled figurehead,
not a day for dissolute lords, not a day for an unscrupulous Colonial
Secretary, a weak, High Commissioner of South Africa, or the moneyed
rascals of Kimberley. For them the day must smell of rottenness, and
therefore be celebrated in London. With one horse the Irish boys
easily won in all the races, while the Boers captured nearly all the
prizes in athletics. The Irish, however, played an English trick in
the races on the unsuspecting Boers. By the art of commandeering, they
had possessed themselves of a good race horse in Pretoria, and it was
this horse that so easily took all the prizes. The sports having come
to an end, all went to camp and enjoyed the Irish boys' meats, cakes,
pies, etc., but it was a painfully dry banquet. Several cases of liquid
refreshments had been ordered and they had arrived at Modderspruit,
but some thirsty party had appropriated and removed all of them before
the Irish boys arrived at the station, so we had to use coffee as a
substitute.
Now, coffee is all right, and it is wet, but that little something is
missing in it that puts such a delightful tingle into the blood. I
felt sorely disappointed because it was Christmas day, the boys had
distinguished themselves only a few days before, and I fondly hoped
to give them a drink or two, their guests a drink or two, and besides
I wanted a drink or two myself. Having feasted, all joined and sang
first, God save Ireland, then the Volkslied of the Transvaal and that
of the Orange Free State, and then, after giving three cheers for
the Irish boys and Ireland, all, happy and satisfied, dispersed and
returned to their respective camps to attend evening services. During
that whole afternoon, I confess that I felt nervous, for there was a
large crowd of men, women and children assembled in the camp, and I
was afraid every moment that I should hear a big lyddite shell come
whizzing over from Ladysmith. I was happily disappointed, however, and
felt much relieved after the people had dispersed.
[Illustration: THE FIRST BRITISH TRENCH ON SPION KOP, SHOWING THE
ENGLISH DEAD LYING THREE DEEP.]