TRICHARDT'S DRIFT AND THE AFFAIR OF ACTON HOMES
Venter's Spruit: January 22, 1900.
On Thursday, January 11, Sir Redvers Buller began his operations for
forcing the Tugela and relieving Ladysmith. Barton's Brigade entrenched
itself at Chieveley, guarding the line of railway communication.
Hildyard's Brigade marched westward six miles to Pretorius's Farm, where
they were joined by the cavalry, the naval guns, three batteries Field
Artillery, and Hart's Brigade from Frere. The infantry and two batteries
remained and encamped, making Clery's division, while the mounted forces
under Dundonald moved forward to take the bridge across the Little
Tugela at Springfield, and, finding this unoccupied, pushed on and
seized the heights overlooking Potgieter's Drift on the Tugela, On the
12th Warren's division, comprising the brigades of Lyttelton and
Woodgate, with three batteries, marched to Springfield, where they
camped. On the 13th the mounted troops, holding the heights above
Potgieter's Drift, were strengthened by the arrival of two battalions of
Lyttelton's Brigade from Springfield. Sir Redvers Buller established his
headquarters in this camp. On the 14th the rest of the brigade followed,
and the same day the corps troops, consisting of Coke's Brigade, one
howitzer, and one field battery, reached Springfield. On the 15th Coke
moved to the position before Potgieter's, and the naval guns were
established on the heights commanding the ford. All this while the Boers
contented themselves with fortifying their horseshoe position which
enclosed the debouches from Potgieter's Drift, and only picket firing
disturbed the general peace.
Such was the situation when I wrote my last letter. It was soon to
develop, though in a most leisurely and deliberate manner. The mounted
forces, which had arrived at Spearman's Hill, as the position before
Potgieter's was called, on the 11th, passed nearly a week of
expectation. Daily we watched the enemy fortifying his position, and
observed the long lines of trenches which grew and spread along the face
of the opposite hills. Daily we made reconnoitring expeditions both east
and west along the Tugela, expeditions always attended with incident,
sometimes with adventure. One day Colonel Byng crawled with two
squadrons to the summit of a high hill which overlooked the road from
Colenso to Potgieter's, and a long and patient vigil was rewarded by the
arrival of five Boer ox waggons toiling sluggishly along with supplies,
on which we directed a rapid and effective fire till they found some
refuge in a cutting. Another day we strengthened ourselves with two
guns, and, marching nearly to the junction of the Tugelas, gave the
Boers camped there an honest hour's shelling, and extricated a patrol of
Bethune's Mounted Infantry from a rather disagreeable position, so that
they were able to bring off a wounded trooper. Nightly the cavalry camp
went to sleep in the belief that a general attack would open on the
enemy's position at dawn. Day after day the expected did not happen.
Buller had other resources than to butt his head against the tremendous
entrenchments which were springing up before him. Everyone discussed
every conceivable alternative, and in the meanwhile it was always
'battle to-morrow,' but never 'battle to-day.' And so it has continued
until this moment, and the great event--the main trial of
strength--still impends.
But though there has been but little powder burned the situation has
materially altered, and its alteration has been entirely to our
advantage. We have crossed the Tugela. The river which for two months
has barred the advance of the relieving army lies behind us now. The
enemy entrenched and entrenching in a strong position still confronts
us, but the British forces are across the Tugela, and have deployed on
the northern bank. With hardly any loss Sir Redvers Buller has gained a
splendid advantage. The old inequality of ground has been swept away,
and the strongest army yet moved under one hand in South Africa stands
face to face with the Boers on the ordinary terms of attack and defence.
Let me describe the steps by which this result has been obtained. On the
afternoon of the 16th, as we were sitting down to luncheon, we noticed a
change in the appearance of the infantry camps on the reverse slopes of
Spearman's Hill. There was a busy bustling of men; the tents began to
look baggy, then they all subsided together; the white disappeared, and
the camping grounds became simply brown patches of moving soldiery.
Lyttelton's Brigade had received orders to march at once. Whither? It
was another hour before this part of the secret transpired. They were to
cross the river and seize the near kopjes beyond Potgieter's Drift.
Orders for cavalry and guns to move arrived in quick succession; the
entire cavalry force, excepting only Bethune's Mounted Infantry, to
march at 5.30 P.M., with five days' rations, 150 rounds per man, and
what they stood up in--tents blankets, waterproof sheets, picketing
gear, all to be left behind. Our camp was to remain standing. The
infantry had struck theirs. I puzzled over this for some time, in fact
until an officer pointed out that our camp was in full view of the Boer
outposts on Spion Kop, while the infantry camps were hidden by a turn of
the hill. Evidently a complex and deeply laid scheme was in progress.
In the interval, while the South African Light Horse were preparing for
the march, I rode up to Gun Hill to watch the operation of seizing the
near kopjes, which stood on the tongue of land across the river, and as
nearly as possible in the centre of the horseshoe position of the enemy.
The sailors were hauling their two great guns to the crest of the hill
ready to come into action to support the infantry attack. Far below, the
four battalions crept through the scrub at the foot of the hills towards
the ferry. As they arrived at the edge of the open ground the long
winding columns dissolved into sprays of skirmishers, line behind line
of tiny dashes, visible only as shadows on the smooth face of the
veldt, strange formations, the result of bitter practical experience.
Presently the first line--a very thin line--men twenty paces
apart--reached the ferry punt and the approaches to the Waggon Drift,
and scrambled down to the brim of the river. A single man began to wade
and swim across, carrying a line. Two or three others followed.
Then a long chain of men, with arms locked--a sort of human
caterpillar--entered the water, struggled slowly across, and formed up
under the shelter of the further bank. All the time the Boers, manning
their trenches and guns, remained silent. The infantry of the two
leading battalions were thus filtering uneventfully across when the time
for the cavalry column to start arrived.
There was a subdued flutter of excitement as we paraded, for though both
our destination and object were unknown, it was clearly understood that
the hour of action had arrived. Everything was moving. A long cloud of
dust rose up in the direction of Springfield. A column of
infantry--Coke's Brigade--curled out of its camp near Spearman's Hill,
and wound down towards the ferry at Potgieter's. Eight curiously
proportioned guns (naval 12-pounders), with tiny wheels and thin
elongated barrels, were passed in a string, each tied to the tail of a
waggon drawn by twenty oxen. The howitzer battery hurried to follow; its
short and squat pieces, suggesting a row of venomous toads, made a
striking contrast. As the darkness fell the cavalry column started. On
all sides men were marching through the night: much important business
was toward, which the reader may easily understand by studying the map,
but cannot without such attention.
Having placed his army within striking distance of the various passages
across the Tugela, Sir Redvers Buller's next object was to cross and
debouch. To this end his plan appears to have been--for information is
scarcely yet properly codified--something as follows: Lyttelton's
Brigade, the corps troops forming Coke's Brigade, the ten naval guns,
the battery of howitzers, one field battery, and Bethune's Mounted
Infantry to demonstrate in front of the Potgieter position, keeping the
Boers holding the horseshoe in expectation of a frontal attack, and
masking their main position; Sir Charles Warren to march by night from
Springfield with the brigades of Hart, Woodgate, and Hildyard, the Royal
Dragoons, six batteries of artillery, and the pontoon train to a point
about five miles west of Spearman's Hill, and opposite Trichardt's Drift
on the Tugela. Here he was to meet the mounted forces from Spearman's
Hill, and with these troops he was next day, the 17th, to throw bridges,
force the passage of the river, and operate at leisure and discretion
against the right flank of the enemy's horseshoe before Potgieter's,
resting on Spion Kop, a commanding mountain, ultimately joining hands
with the frontal force from Spearman's Hill at a point on the Acton
Homes-Ladysmith road. To sum up briefly, seven battalions, twenty-two
guns, and three hundred horse under Lyttelton to mask the Potgieter
position; twelve battalions, thirty-six guns, and sixteen hundred horse
to cross five miles to the westward, and make a turning movement against
the enemy's right. The Boer covering army was to be swept back on
Ladysmith by a powerful left arm, the pivoting shoulder of which was at
Potgieter's, the elbow at Trichardt's Drift, and the enveloping
hand--the cavalry under Lord Dundonald--stretching out towards Acton
Homes.
So much for the plan; now for its execution or modifications. One main
feature has characterised the whole undertaking--its amazing
deliberation. There was to be absolutely no hurry of any kind whatever.
Let the enemy entrench and fortify. If necessary, we were prepared to
sap up to his positions. Let him discover where the attack impended.
Even then all his resistance should be overborne. And it seems now that
this same deliberation which was so punctiliously observed, when speed
appeared an essential to success, baffled the enemy almost as much as it
mystified the troops. However, the event is not yet decided.
After about two, hours' easy marching the cavalry reached the point of
rendezvous among the hills opposite Trichardt's Drift, and here we
halted and awaited developments in the blackness. An hour passed. Then
there arrived Sir Charles Warren and staff. 'Move the cavalry out of the
way--fifteen thousand men marching along this road to-night.' So we
moved accordingly and waited again. Presently the army began to come. I
remember that it poured with rain, and there was very little to look at
in the gloom, but, nevertheless, it was not possible to stand unmoved
and watch the ceaseless living stream--miles of stern-looking men
marching in fours so quickly that they often had to run to keep up, of
artillery, ammunition columns, supply columns, baggage, slaughter
cattle, thirty great pontoons, white-hooded, red-crossed ambulance
waggons, all the accessories of an army hurrying forward under the cover
of night--and before them a guiding star, the red gleam of war.
We all made quite sure that the bridges would be built during the
night, so that with the dawn the infantry could begin to cross and make
an immediate onfall. But when morning broke the whole force was revealed
spread about the hills overlooking the drift and no sound of artillery
proclaimed the beginning of an action. Of course, since a lightning blow
had been expected, we all wondered what was the cause of the delay. Some
said folly, others incapacity, others even actual laziness. But so far
as the operations have proceeded I am not inclined to think that we have
lost anything by not hurrying on this occasion. As I write all is going
well, and it would have been a terrible demand to make of infantry that
they should attack, after a long night march, such a position as lay and
still lies in part before us. In fact it was utterly impossible to do
anything worth doing that day beyond the transportation; so that, though
the Boers were preparing redoubts and entrenchments with frantic energy,
we might just as well take our time. At about eight o'clock a patrol of
the Imperial Light Horse, under Captain Bridges, having ascertained that
only a few Dutch scouts were moving within range on the further bank,
the passage of the river began. Two battalions of Hildyard's Brigade,
the West Yorkshires and the Devons, moved towards the drift in the usual
open formation, occupied the houses, and began to entrench themselves in
the fields. Six batteries came into action from the wooded heights
commanding the passage. The pontoons advanced. Two were launched, and in
them the West Yorkshire Regiment began to cross, accumulating gradually
in the shelter of the further bank. Then the sappers began to build the
bridges. Half a dozen Boers fired a few shots at long range, and one
unfortunate soldier in the Devons was killed. The batteries opened on
the farms, woods, and kopjes beyond the river, shelling them
assiduously, though there was not an enemy to be seen, and searching out
the ground with great thoroughness. I watched this proceeding of making
'sicker' from the heights. The drift was approached from the ground
where we had bivouacked by a long, steep, descending valley. At nine
o'clock the whole of Hart's Brigade poured down this great gutter and
extended near the water. The bridge was growing fast--span after span of
pontoons sprang out at the ends as it lay along the bank. Very soon it
would be long enough to tow into position across the flood. Moreover,
the infantry of the West Yorks and Devons had mostly been ferried
across, and were already occupying the lately well-shelled farms and
woods. At eleven o'clock the bridge was finished, the transported
infantry were spreading up the hills, and Woodgate's Brigade moved
forward down the valley.
It soon became time for the cavalry to cross, but they were not
accommodated, as were the infantry, with a convenient bridge, About a
quarter of a mile down stream from Trichardt's Drift there is a deep and
rather dangerous ford, called the Waggon Drift. Across this at noon the
mounted men began to make their way, and what with the uneven bottom and
the strong current there were a good many duckings. The Royal Dragoons
mounted on their great horses, indeed, passed without much difficulty,
but the ponies of the Light Horse and Mounted Infantry were often swept
off their feet, and the ridiculous spectacle of officers and men
floundering in the torrent or rising indignantly from the shallows
provided a large crowd of spectators--who had crossed by the
bridge--with a comedy. Tragedy was not, however, altogether excluded,
for a trooper of the 13th Hussars was drowned, and Captain Tremayne, of
the same regiment, who made a gallant attempt to rescue him, was taken
from the water insensible.
During the afternoon the busy Engineers built a second bridge across the
river, and by this and the first the artillery, the ammunition columns,
and the rest of the mass of wheeled transport defiled. All that day and
through the night this monotonous business of passing the waggons across
continued. The cavalry had bivouacked--all tents and even waterproofs
were now left behind--within the infantry picket lines, and we awoke at
the break of day expecting to hear the boom of the first gun. 'Quite
right to wait until there was a whole day to make the attack in. Suppose
that was the reason we did not hurry yesterday.' But no guns fired near
Trichardt's Drift, and only the frontal force at Potgieter's began its
usual bombardment. Sir Charles Warren, moreover, said that his artillery
had not finished crossing--one battery still to cross--and that there
was no hurry. Deliberation was the order of the day. So again everyone
was puzzled, and not a few were critical, for in modern times everyone
thinks, and even a native camp follower has his views on tactics and
strategy. A very complete consolation awaited the cavalry. All that
Warren did with his infantry on this day, the 18th, was to creep
cautiously forward about two miles towards the Boer position, which with
its left resting on Spion Kop stretched along the edge and crest of a
lofty plateau, from which long gently sloping spurs and _arêtes_ ran
down to the river. For us, however, there was more diverting employment.
'The mounted brigade will guard the left flank of the infantry.' Such
was the order; and is not offence the surest defence? Accordingly all
the irregular cavalry moved in a considerable column westward across the
front of the Boer position, endeavouring to find where its flank rested,
and prying with inquisitive patrols at every object of interest. The
order of march was as follows: First, the composite regiment (one
squadron of Imperial Light Horse, the 60th Rifles, Mounted Infantry, and
one squadron of Natal Carabineers), 350 of the very best; next, four
squadrons of the South African Light Horse, good shooting high-class
colonial Volunteers with officers of experience; then Thorneycroft's
Mounted Infantry. 'Lived in Natal all our lives! Know every inch of it,
sir!' And behind these alert mounted riflemen moved the ponderous and
terrible regulars, 13th Hussars and Royals, with the dreaded _arme
blanche_, 'Wait till we get among them.' Altogether a formidable
brigade.
There were many halts, and no one hurried, so that at two o'clock the
whole cavalry formed a line of observation along the lower kopjes by
the river about five miles long. The composite regiment was not,
however, to be seen. Major Graham, who commanded it, had been observed
trotting swiftly off to the westward. Two hundred Boers had also been
reported moving in that direction. Presently came the sound of distant
musketry--not so very distant either. Everyone pricked up his ears. Two
miles away to the left was a green hill broken by rocky kopjes. Looking
through my glasses I could see ten or twelve riderless horses grazing. A
mile further on a group of Boers sheltering behind a kopje from the
continual fire was visible. Suddenly one galloped away madly, and even
at the distance it was possible to see the cloud of dust from pursuing
bullets. A straggling column of Boers was trekking away across the plain
back to their main position. Then came reports and rumours. 'Ambuscaded
the Dutchmen--shot 'em to bits--some of them cut off--come and bag the
lot.' Behind the rumours Barnes, adjutant of the Imperial Light Horse,
joyful, with a breathless horse; he explained how they had seen two
hundred Boers moving towards distant hills, to make sure of their line
of retreat by the Acton Homes road into the Free State; galloped to cut
them off; reached the hills first, with just five minutes to spare;
dismounted, commanding the road, and waited.
The Boers admitted afterwards that they thought that the squadrons
visible on the other hills two miles back were the head of our column,
and they also blamed their scouts, particularly one, an Austrian. 'It
all comes of trusting these cursed foreigners! If we had only had a
_veldt_ Boer out we should never have been caught.' Caught, however,
they undoubtedly were. The Carabineers and the Imperial Light Horse held
their fire until the scouts walked into their midst, and then let drive
at the main body, 300 yards range, mounted men, smooth open grass plain.
There was a sudden furious, snapping fusillade The Boer column stopped
paralysed; then they broke and rushed for cover. The greater number
galloped fast from the field; some remained on the ground dead or
wounded. Others took refuge among the rocks of the kopjes and apparently
proposed to hold out until dark, and hence the arrival of Lieutenant
Barnes demanding reinforcements, 60th Rifles, Mounted Infantry, and
anything else, so as to attack these fellows in flank and 'bag the lot.'
Meanwhile Lord Dundonald had arrived on our hill. 'Certainly, every man
we can spare.' Off gallops the Mounted Infantry and one squadron of the
South African Light Horse, and later on some of Thorneycroft's, and
later still the Brigadier himself. I arrived in time to see the end. The
Boers--how many we could not tell--were tenaciously holding the black
rocks of a kopje and were quite invisible. The British riflemen curved
round them in a half-moon, firing continually at the rocks. The squadron
of South African Light Horse had worked almost behind the enemy, and
every Dutchman who dared make a dash for liberty ran a terrible
gauntlet. Still the surrender did not come. The white flag flickered for
a moment above the rocks, but neither side stopped firing. Evidently a
difference of opinion among the enemy. What do we care for that? Night
is coming on. Let us rush them with the bayonet and settle the matter.
This from the Rifles--nobody else had bayonets. So a section pushes
forward against the rocks, crawling along the ground. Anxious to see the
surrender, I followed on my pony, but on the instant there broke out a
savage fire from the kopje, and with difficulty I found shelter in a
donga. Here were two of the Natal Carabineers--one a bearded man of the
well-to-do farmer class, the other a young fair-haired gentleman--both
privates, both as cool as ice. 'Vewy astonishing outburst of fire,' said
the younger man in a delicate voice. 'I would recommend your remaining
here with your horse for the present.' Accordingly we lay still on the
grass slope and awaited developments. The young gentleman put his helmet
over the crest on the end of his rifle, and was much diverted to hear
the bullets whistle round it. At intervals he substituted his head for
the helmet and reported the state of the game. 'Bai Jove, the Rifles
are in a hot place.' I peered cautiously. A hundred yards away the
Mounted Infantry section were extended. The dust spurts rose around the
men, who remained pinned to the earth, scarcely able to raise their
heads to fire. Whatever passed over them came whizzing in our direction.
The Natal Volunteer, however, was too much interested in the proceedings
to forego his view. 'Deah, deah, they've fixed bayonets! Why, they're
coming back. They've had someone hurt.' I looked again for a moment. The
line of riflemen was certainly retiring, wriggling backwards slowly on
their bellies. Two brown forms lay still and hunched in the abandoned
position. Then suddenly the retiring Riflemen sprang up and ran for
shelter in our donga. One lad jumped right in among us laughing and
panting, and the whole party turned at once and lined the bank.
First-class infantry can afford to retire at the double, sure that they
will stop at a word. 'We got to within fifty yards of the Dutchmen,'
they said; 'but it was too hot to go further. They've shot two fellows
through the head.' Eventually we all retired to the main position on the
ridge above us. Lord Dundonald and his staff had just arrived.
'There! there's the white flag again. Shoot the devils!' cried a
soldier, and the musketry crashed out fiercely. 'What's to be done,
sir?' said the Captain, turning to the Brigadier; 'the white flag has
been up off and on for the last half-hour, but they don't stop firing,
and they've just killed two of my men.'
'Give them one more chance.' 'Cease fire--cease fire there, will you?'
for the men were very angry, and so at last the musketry died away, and
there was silence. Then from among the rocks three dark figures stood up
holding up their hands, and at this tangible evidence of surrender we
got on our horses and galloped towards them waving pocket handkerchiefs
and signalling flags to show them that their surrender was accepted.
Altogether there were twenty-four prisoners--all Boers of the most
formidable type--a splendid haul, and I thought with delight of my poor
friends the prisoners at Pretoria. This might redeem a few. Then we
searched the ground, finding ten dead or dying and twenty loose horses,
ten dead and eight badly wounded men. The soldiers crowded round these
last, covering them up with blankets or mackintoshes, propping their
heads with saddles for pillows, and giving them water and biscuits from
their bottles and haversacks. Anger had turned to pity in an instant.
The desire to kill was gone. The desire to comfort replaced it. A little
alert officer--Hubert Gough, now a captain, soon to command a
regiment--came up to me. Two minutes before his eyes were bright and
joyous with the excitement of the man hunt. He had galloped a
mile--mostly under fire--to bring the reinforcements to surround the
Boers. 'Bag the lot, you know.' Now he was very sad. 'There's a poor boy
dying up there--only a boy, and so cold--who's got a blanket?'
So the soldiers succoured the Boer wounded, and we told the prisoners
that they would be shown courtesy and kindness worthy of brave men and
a famous quarrel. The Boer dead were collected and a flag of truce was
sent to the enemy's lines to invite a burying and identification party
at dawn. I have often seen dead men, killed in war--thousands at
Omdurman--scores elsewhere, black and white, but the Boer dead aroused
the most painful emotions. Here by the rock under which he had fought
lay the Field Cornet of Heilbronn, Mr. de Mentz--a grey-haired man of
over sixty years, with firm aquiline features and a short beard. The
stony face was grimly calm, but it bore the stamp of unalterable
resolve; the look of a man who had thought it all out, and was quite
certain that his cause was just, and such as a sober citizen might give
his life for. Nor was I surprised when the Boer prisoners told me that
Mentz had refused all suggestions of surrender, and that when his left
leg was smashed by a bullet he had continued to load and fire until he
bled to death; and they found him, pale and bloodless, holding his
wife's letter in his hand. Beside him was a boy of about seventeen shot
through the heart. Further on lay our own two poor riflemen with their
heads smashed like eggshells; and I suppose they had mothers or wives
far away at the end of the deep-sea cables. Ah, horrible war, amazing
medley of the glorious and the squalid, the pitiful and the sublime, if
modern men of light and leading saw your face closer, simple folk would
see it hardly ever.
It could not be denied that the cavalry had scored a brilliant success.
We had captured twenty-four, killed ten, and wounded eight--total,
forty-two. Moreover, we had seen the retreating Boers dragging and
supporting their injured friends from the field, and might fairly claim
fifteen knocked out of time, besides those in our hands, total
fifty-seven; a fine bag, for which we had had to pay scarcely anything.
Two soldiers of the Mounted Infantry killed; one trooper of the Imperial
Light Horse slightly, and one officer, Captain Shore--the twenty-third
officer of this regiment hit during the last three months--severely
wounded.