THE BATTLE OF PIETERS: THE THIRD DAY
Hospital ship 'Maine': March 5, 1900.
At half-past twelve on the 23rd General Hart ordered his brigade to
advance. The battalions, which were sheltering among stone walls and
other hastily constructed cover on the reverse slope of the kopje
immediately in front of that on which we stood, rose up one by one and
formed in rank. They then moved off in single file along the railroad,
the Inniskilling Fusiliers leading, the Connaught Rangers, Dublin
Fusiliers, and the Imperial Light Infantry following in succession. At
the same time the Durham Light Infantry and the 2nd Rifle Brigade began
to march to take the place of the assaulting brigade on the advanced
kopje. Wishing to have a nearer view of the attack, I descended the
wooded hill, cantered along the railway--down which the procession of
laden stretchers, now hardly interrupted for three days, was still
moving--and, dismounting, climbed the rocky sides of the advanced kopje.
On the top, in a little half-circle of stones, I found General
Lyttelton, who received me kindly, and together we watched the
development of the operation. Nearly a mile of the railway line was
visible, and along it the stream of Infantry flowed steadily. The
telescope showed the soldiers walking quite slowly, with their rifles at
the slope. Thus far, at least, they were not under fire. The low kopjes
which were held by the other brigades shielded the movement. A mile away
the river and railway turned sharply to the right; the river plunged
into a steep gorge, and the railway was lost in a cutting. There was
certainly plenty of cover; but just before the cutting was reached the
iron bridge across the Onderbrook Spruit had to be crossed, and this was
evidently commanded by the enemy's riflemen. Beyond the railway and the
moving trickle of men the brown dark face of Inniskilling Hill, crowned
with sangars and entrenchments, rose up gloomy and, as yet, silent.
The patter of musketry along the left of the army, which reached back
from the advanced kopjes to Colenso village, the boom of the heavy guns
across the river, and the ceaseless thudding of the Field Artillery
making a leisurely preparation, were an almost unnoticed accompaniment
to the scene. Before us the Infantry were moving steadily nearer to the
hill and the open ground by the railway bridge, and we listened amid the
comparatively peaceful din for the impending fire storm.
The head of the column reached the exposed ground, and the soldiers
began to walk across it. Then at once above the average fusillade and
cannonade rose the extraordinary rattling roll of Mauser musketry in
great volume. If the reader wishes to know exactly what this is like he
must drum the fingers of both his hands on a wooden table, one after
the other as quickly and as hard as he can. I turned my telescope on the
Dutch defences. They were no longer deserted. All along the rim of the
trenches, clear cut and jet black, against the sky stood a crowded line
of slouch-hatted men, visible as far as their shoulders, and wielding
what looked like thin sticks.
Far below by the red ironwork of the railway bridge--2,000 yards, at
least, from the trenches--the surface of the ground was blurred and
dusty. Across the bridge the Infantry were still moving, but no longer
slowly--they were running for their lives. Man after man emerged from
the sheltered railroad, which ran like a covered way across the enemy's
front, into the open and the driving hail of bullets, ran the gauntlet
and dropped down the embankment on the further side of the bridge into
safety again. The range was great, but a good many soldiers were hit and
lay scattered about the ironwork of the bridge. 'Pom-pom-pom,'
'pom-pom-pom,' and so on, twenty times went the Boer automatic gun, and
the flights of little shells spotted the bridge with puffs of white
smoke. But the advancing Infantry never hesitated for a moment, and
continued to scamper across the dangerous ground, paying their toll
accordingly. More than sixty men were shot in this short space. Yet this
was not the attack. This was only the preliminary movement across the
enemy's front.
The enemy's shells, which occasionally burst on the advanced kopje, and
a whistle of stray bullets from the left, advised us to change our
position, and we moved a little further down the slope towards the
river. Here the bridge was no longer visible. I looked towards the
hill-top, whence the roar of musketry was ceaselessly proceeding. The
Artillery had seen the slouch hats, too, and forgetting their usual
apathy in the joy of a live target, concentrated a most hellish and
terrible fire on the trenches.
Meanwhile the afternoon had been passing. The Infantry had filed
steadily across the front, and the two leading battalions had already
accumulated on the eastern spurs of Inniskilling Hill. At four o'clock
General Hart ordered the attack, and the troops forthwith began to
climb the slopes. The broken ground delayed their progress, and it was
nearly sunset by the time they had reached the furthest position which
could be gained under cover. The Boer entrenchments were about four
hundred yards away. The _arête_ by which the Inniskillings had advanced
was bare, and swept by a dreadful frontal fire from the works on the
summit and a still more terrible flanking fire from the other hills. It
was so narrow that, though only four companies were arranged in the
firing line, there was scarcely room for two to deploy. There was not,
however, the slightest hesitation, and as we watched with straining eyes
we could see the leading companies rise up together and run swiftly
forward on the enemy's works with inspiring dash and enthusiasm.
But if the attack was superb, the defence was magnificent; nor could the
devoted heroism of the Irish soldiers surpass the stout endurance of the
Dutch. The Artillery redoubled their efforts. The whole summit of the
hill was alive with shell. Shrapnel flashed into being above the crests,
and the ground sprang up into dust whipped by the showers of bullets and
splinters. Again and again whole sections of the entrenchments vanished
in an awful uprush of black earth and smoke, smothering the fierce blaze
of the lyddite shells from the howitzers and heavy artillery. The
cannonade grew to tremendous thundering hum. Not less than sixty guns
were firing continuously on the Boer trenches. But the musketry was
never subdued for an instant. Amid the smoke and the dust the slouch
hats could still be seen. The Dutch, firm and undaunted, stood to their
parapets and plied their rifles with deadly effect.
The terrible power of the Mauser rifle was displayed. As the charging
companies met the storm of bullets they were swept away. Officers and
men fell by scores on the narrow ridge. Though assailed in front and
flank by the hideous whispering Death, the survivors hurried obstinately
onward, until their own artillery were forced to cease firing, and it
seemed that, in spite of bullets, flesh and blood would prevail. But at
the last supreme moment the weakness of the attack was shown. The
Inniskillings had almost reached their goal. They were too few to effect
their purpose; and when the Boers saw that the attack had withered they
shot all the straighter, and several of the boldest leapt out from their
trenches and, running forward to meet the soldiers, discharged their
magazines at the closest range. It was a frantic scene of blood and
fury.
Thus confronted, the Irish perished rather than retire. A few men indeed
ran back down the slope to the nearest cover, and there savagely turned
to bay, but the greater part of the front line was shot down. Other
companies, some from the Connaught Rangers, some headed by the brave
Colonel Sitwell, from the Dublin Fusiliers, advanced to renew--it was
already too late to support--the attack, and as the light faded another
fierce and bloody assault was delivered and was repulsed. Yet the Irish
soldiers would not leave the hill, and, persuaded at length that they
could not advance further, they lay down on the ground they had won,
and began to build walls and shelters, from behind which they opened a
revengeful fire on the exulting Boers. In the two attacks both colonels,
three majors, twenty officers, and six hundred men had fallen out of an
engaged force of scarcely one thousand two hundred. Then darkness pulled
down the curtain, and the tragedy came to an end for the day.
All through the night of the 23rd a heavy rifle fire was maintained by
both sides. Stray bullets whistled about the bivouacs, and the South
African Light Horse, who had selected a most sheltered spot to sleep in,
had a trooper hit. There were a certain number of casualties along the
whole front. As soon as it was daylight I rode out with Captain Brooke
to learn what had happened in the night. We knew that the hill had not
been carried before dusk, but hoped, since the combatants were so close
together, that in the darkness the bayonet would have settled the
matter.
We had just reached the hollow behind the advanced kopje from which I
had watched the attack on the previous evening, when suddenly a shrapnel
shell burst in the air above our heads with a sharp, startling bang. The
hollow and slope of the hill were crowded with Infantry battalions lying
down in quarter column. The bullets and splinters of the shell smote the
ground on all sides. We were both mounted and in the centre of the cone
of dispersion. I was immediately conscious that nothing had happened to
me, though the dust around my horse was flicked up, and I concluded that
everyone had enjoyed equally good fortune. Indeed, I turned to Brooke,
and was about to elaborate my theory that shrapnel is comparatively
harmless, when I saw some stir and turmoil and no less than eight men
were picked up killed or wounded by this explosion. I have only once
before seen in war such a successful shell, and on that occasion I was
studying the effect from the other side.
My respect for modern artillery was mightily increased by this example
of its power. Two more shells followed in quick succession. The first
struck down four men, and broke in two the leg of an Infantry officer's
charger, so that the poor beast galloped about in a circle, preventing
his rider from dismounting for some time; the second shore along the
Howitzer Battery, killing one soldier and wounding an officer, five
soldiers, and three horses. All this occurred in a space of about two
minutes, and the three shells between them accounted for nineteen men
and four horses. Then the gun, which was firing 'on spec,' and could not
see the effect of its fire, turned its attention elsewhere; but the
thought forced itself on me, 'Fancy if there had been a battery.' The
crowded Infantry waiting in support would certainly have been driven out
of the re-entrant with frightful slaughter. Yet in a European war there
would have been not one, but three or four batteries. I do not see how
troops can be handled in masses under such conditions, even when in
support and on reverse slopes. Future warfare must depend on the
individual.
We climbed on to the top of the kopje, which was sprinkled with staff
officers and others--all much interested in the exhibition of shell
fire, which they discussed as a purely scientific question. Inniskilling
Hill was still crowned with the enemy, though they no longer showed
above their trenches. Its slopes were scored with numerous brown lines,
the stone walls built by the attacking brigade during the night, and
behind these the telescope showed the Infantry clustering thickly. The
Boers on their part had made some new trenches in advance of those on
the crest of the hill, so that the opposing firing lines were scarcely
three hundred yards apart, which meant that everyone in them must lie
still or run grave risks. Thus they remained all day, firing at each
other continually, while on the bare ground between them the dead and
wounded lay thickly scattered, the dead mixed with the living, the
wounded untended, without dressings, food, or water, and harassed by the
fire from both sides and from our artillery. It was a very painful thing
to watch these poor fellows moving about feebly and trying to wriggle
themselves into some position of safety, and it reminded me of the
wounded Dervishes after Omdurman--only these were our own countrymen.
It seems that a misunderstanding, of the rights and wrongs of which the
reader shall be himself a judge, arose with the enemy. When day broke,
the Boers, who were much nearer to the wounded than were our troops,
came out of their trenches with a Red Cross flag, and the firing
thereupon ceased locally. Our people ought then to have been ready to
come forward with another Red Cross flag, and an informal truce might
easily have been arranged for an hour or two. Unfortunately, however,
there was some delay on our part. The Boers therefore picked up their
own wounded, of whom there were a few, gave some of our men a little
water, and took away their rifles. All this was quite correct; but the
Boers then proceeded to strip and despoil the dead and wounded, taking
off their boots and turning out their pockets, and this so infuriated
the watching soldiers behind the wall that they forthwith fired on the
Boers, Red Cross flag notwithstanding. This, of course, was the signal
for fighting to recommence fiercely, and during the day neither side
would hear of parley. The Boers behaved cruelly in various instances,
and several wounded men who tried to crawl away were deliberately
destroyed by being shot at close quarters with many bullets.
During the 24th there was heavy firing on both sides, but no movement of
infantry on either. The army suffered some loss from the Boer artillery,
particularly the automatic guns, which were well served, and which
enfiladed many of our positions on the slopes of the low kopjes. In this
way Colonel Thorold, of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, and other officers,
met their deaths. The casualties were principally in Hildyard's English
and Kitchener's Lancashire Brigades. Hart's six battalions found good
cover in the gorge of the Tugela.
Sir Redvers Buller now saw that his plan of filing his army round the
angle of the river and across the enemy's front would, in any case, be
very costly, and was perhaps impossible. He, therefore, determined to
get back to the Hlangwani plateau, and try the extreme left of the
enemy's position. He had the strategic advantage of being on interior
lines, and was consequently able to move his troops with great ease from
one flank to the other. His new plan was to pass the brigades of his
left and centre across the pontoon bridge from the left to the right, so
that Hart, who was formerly the extreme right, would now become almost
the extreme left, and, having thus extended his right arm, to cross the
river where it flowed east and west, and make a still wider swoop on the
enemy's flank.
The first thing to do was to move the heavy guns, and this, with certain
redistributions of the cavalry, occupied the whole day. A long-range
four-gun naval battery was established on the western slopes of the
Monte Cristo ridge. Another similar battery was placed on the spurs of
Hlangwani. The 4.7-inch naval guns and the 5 in. fortress battery were
brought into line in the centre of the Hlangwani plateau. All this was
good. The big guns were getting back on to the big hills. The firing,
which continued all day, swelled into a roar towards night as the Boers
made vigorous attempts to drive Hart's Brigade from its lodgments. They
were, however, foiled in their endeavour to squeeze in between the
troops and the river.
The battalions, who were attacked frontally, lay down with fixed
bayonets and prayed that the Boers might be encouraged by their silence
to make an assault. The latter, however, were fully aware of the
eagerness of the soldiers for personal collision, and kept their
distance. The firing on both sides was unaimed, and very little harm was
done. No one, however, had much sleep. The condition of the wounded,
still lying sore and thirsty on the bare hillside, was now so shocking
that Sir Redvers Buller was forced, much against his inclination, at
dawn on the 25th, to send in a flag of truce to the Boer commander and
ask for an armistice. This the Boers formally refused, but agreed that
if we would not fire on their positions during the day they would not
prevent our bearer companies from removing the wounded and burying the
dead.
The arrangement worked well; the enemy were polite to our medical
officers, and by noon all the wounded had been brought down and the dead
buried. The neglect and exposure for forty-eight hours had much
aggravated the case of the former, and the bodies of the dead, swollen,
blackened, and torn by the terrible wounds of the expansive bullets, now
so generally used by the enemy, were ugly things to see. The fact that
no regular armistice was agreed on was an advantage, as we were not
thereby debarred from making military movements. The Boers improved
their entrenchments, and Sir Redvers Buller employed the day in
withdrawing his train across the river. This movement, seeming to
foreshadow another retreat, sorely disquieted the troops, who were only
reassured by the promise of a general onslaught from the other flank at
no distant time.
The strange quiet of this Sunday, the first day since the 14th of the
month unbroken by musketry and cannonade, was terminated at nine
o'clock at night.
The Boers had seen the waggons passing back over the bridge, and were
anxious to find out whether or not the infantry were following, and if
the low kopjes were evacuated. They therefore opened a tremendous
magazine fire at long range on the brigades holding the line from
Colenso village to the angle of the river. The fusillade was returned,
and for ten minutes the musketry was louder than at any other time in
this campaign. Very few casualties occurred, however, and after a while
the Boers, having learned that the positions were still occupied, ceased
firing, and the British soon imitated them, so that, except for the
ceaseless 'sniping,' silence was restored.
At dawn on the 26th the artillery re-opened on both sides, and during
the day a constant bombardment was maintained, in which we, having more
guns, fired the greater number of shells, and the Dutch, having larger
targets, hit a greater number of men. The losses were not, however,
severe, except in view of the fact that they had to be endured by the
infantry idly and passively.
Considerable movements of troops were made. Colenso and the kopjes about
Fort Wylie were converted into a bridgehead, garrisoned by Talbot Coke's
Brigade. A new line of communications was opened around the foot of
Hlangwani. A pontoon bridge (B) was arranged ready to be thrown below
the falls of the river, not far from the still intact Boer bridge.
Hildyard's English Brigade stood fast on the advanced low kopjes forming
the extreme left of the line. Hart's command held its position about the
slopes of Inniskilling Hill and in the gorge of the river. Barton's
Fusilier Brigade, Kitchener's Lancashire Brigade, and the two remaining
battalions of Norcott's (formerly Lyttelton's) Brigade crossed the old
bridge to the Hlangwani plateau.
All was now ready for the final attack on the left of the Pieters
position, and in spite of the high quality of the Infantry it was
generally recognised throughout the army that the fate of Ladysmith
must depend on the success of the next day's operations. The spirit of
the army was still undaunted, but they had suffered much from losses,
exposure, and disappointment.
Since January 11, a period of more than six weeks, the troops had been
continuously fighting and bivouacking. The peaceful intervals of a few
days had merely been in order to replenish stores and ammunition. During
this time the only reinforcements to reach the army had been a few
drafts, a cavalry regiment, a horse battery, and some heavy guns.
Exclusive of the 1,100 casualties suffered at Colenso in December, the
force, rarely more than 20,000 men, had had over 3,500 killed and
wounded, had never had a single gleam of success, and had hardly seen
the enemy who hit them so hard.
Colenso, Spion Kop, Vaal Krantz, and the third day at Pieters were not
inspiring memories, and though everyone was cheered by the good news of
the entanglement of Cronje's army on the western side, yet it was felt
that the attempt to be made on the morrow would be the last effort the
Natal Field Army would be asked or allowed to make. And oppressed by
these reflections we went anxiously to rest on the eve of Majuba Day.