CANNON KOPJE
MAFEKING, _October 31st, 1899_.
Cannon Kopje is in itself a hideous cluster of stones, perched upon a
rocky ridge, which commands the town, a mile across the veldt. It is
impossible to conceive any more positive death-trap than that which
was contained in this kopje, and whatever may have been the
determining element in its original construction, it is infinitely to
be regretted that the possibilities of its being under shell fire were
never very seriously contemplated. It was thrown up during the Warren
expedition, and much as these things go, was neither removed nor
replaced until Monday's bombardment established its complete
uselessness under shell fire, and the folly of which Colonel
Baden-Powell was guilty in leaving it unprotected. It is too late to
say much now, but we have paid a heavy price for our neglect and
carelessness. We found it here when we came; we put men into it, we
are maintaining men there, and it is essential to the safety of our
town that we should still hold it. Since the action an effort has been
made to improve it; a splinter-proof shelter has been thrown across
the trench, and traverses have been thrown out, but the work of the
past few days has perhaps prepared the kopje for further shelling at
the enemy's convenience. As a _piece de resistance_ in the defence of
Mafeking, Cannon Kopje is the most strategically important position
near Mafeking, and we may reckon that, at the moment when these
wretched shepherds who are besieging us, secure this fort, to Mafeking
itself there remains but a few hours.
Colonel Walford had under his command at the fort forty-four men with
a Maxim detachment from the Protectorate Regiment. The fairest
estimate of the men against him would place the Boer forces at no less
than eight hundred with four guns. Sunday night, the look-out from
Cannon Kopje saw a body of Boers making their way to a point somewhat
nearer the town than had hitherto been their custom, and our
expectations having been aroused by this movement we were inclined to
believe that the enemy might attack upon the following morning. Our
anticipations were further grounded upon the fact that the Boers to
the south-west of the town, had by no means despised the claims of
Cannon Kopje upon their attentions, and to every three shells which
their guns had thrown into the town during the days which the siege
had lasted, one, in a proportion of one in three, had been fired at
Cannon Kopje. It has gradually come to be considered, therefore, that
Cannon Kopje was a point against which the Boers would, sooner or
later, direct an attack, since its capture was necessary to the
successful execution of any general movement against the town.
[Illustration: Cannon Kopje.]
The detachment of Police, who formed the garrison at Cannon Kopje,
upon this day performed a most brilliant service for the town by
their determined and gallant stand. Perhaps in war more than in
anything else, chance is a greater arbiter than we like to consider,
and if it had not been for the chance attack against Cannon Kopje,
which resulted in the defeat of the Boer forces, it is not improbable
that Mafeking itself would have been invaded by the enemy. The
subjugation of this point, in reality the turning point in the siege,
was, however, of vital concern to Commandant Cronje, since it had been
his intention to bombard the south-east portion of the town, and to
carry it with a large force which he had assembled during the night in
the adjacent valley of the Molopo River. When day had dawned, the
look-out from Cannon Kopje had already reported to Colonel Walford
that there was unusual activity in the Boer camp; at the moment this
was stirring news, and indeed the fatigues for the night had been
barely dismissed when an experimental shell from the Boer artillery to
test the range, opened the action. During the night, and about the
close of Sunday, the enemy's artillery had taken up their position,
and as the grey of dawn ushered in the fatal day, a large force of
Boers moved out from their laager and occupied any point by which they
might command the area of the fort. It seemed to me, as I witnessed
their disposition, that at least a third of the forces before Mafeking
had been concentrated upon Cannon Kopje, and if so great a tragedy had
not attended the action, we could have afforded to laugh at the
efforts of an enemy so hopelessly incompetent as the Boer force has
proved itself to be. Against a mere gun emplacement and forty-four
men, shell fire from four guns was directed, and the services of eight
hundred men utilised. In the extreme west there was "Big Ben" and a
seven-pounder; in the extreme east there was a twelve-pounder. Within
a circle from these two points, and within effective range, a
seven-pounder and quick-firing Maxim-Nordenfeldt had been stationed.
The big gun took no part at all in this attack upon the kopje, but at
every moment that the enemy's shell fire lapsed, the Boer marksmen
opened with their Mauser rifles. Their rifle fire stretched from the
extremities of either flank and enfiladed the interior trenches of the
kopje. Nothing perhaps in the history of their operations along this
frontier, was so calculated to prove successful as the Boer attack
upon Cannon Kopje. They had the guns, the men, and they held all
commanding points, while they themselves were snugly ensconced behind
cover almost impervious to shell fire. With these advantages it would
seem morally impossible that forty-four men could withstand the
unceasing stream of shells, the mist of bullets, which comprised the
zone of fire of which the kopje was the centre. Had these men wavered,
such a thing is easy to explain; had they fallen back upon the town,
their movement would have been in order. But by preference they
stopped at their posts, the mark for every Boer rifle, the objective
of the enemy's shell fire, until so great had been our execution upon
the enemy that the Boers themselves proclaimed an armistice under the
protection of the Red Cross flag. When this was decreed one-fourth of
the detachment in the kopje were out of action, and eight of these
were killed. But the lamentable list of fatalities had been piled up
only at great cost to the enemy, since around the circle of the fort,
and not four hundred yards away, we could see the Boer ambulances
picking up their dead and wounded. It has been stated that they lost
one hundred men, and that a further fifty were seriously wounded, but
this is preposterous; while if we err at all towards our foe it is in
the computation of the losses which we claim to have inflicted upon
them. It is almost impossible to kill a Dutchman on the field, since
they are as pertinacious and industrious as beetles in seeking cover.
We saw two waggon loads pass from their firing-line to their laager,
but I am inclined to doubt if we killed and wounded forty of the
enemy. To have scored that number in the face of the most remarkable
fusilade of bullet and shell which was directed against the fort is a
wonderful feat, since it should not be forgotten that to every shot
which we fired, there were at least four hundred barrels emptied at
our marksmen in return. Such was the unfortunate construction of
Cannon Kopje, however, and the gross neglect with which it has been
treated to prepare for the present war, that it was not possible for
our men to use their loopholes, and as it was most necessary to hold
the fort each man who fired stood to his feet, and exposed himself
above the breastwork to the full force of the Boer rifles. The enemy
had carried out their movement so well, that under cover of their
guns, and the great annoyance of their enfilading fire, they had made
it almost impossible for the defenders of the fort to pay much
attention to their advance. They compelled men to take cover, since if
anything were seen to move behind the parapet of the fort, the Boers
swept the area of the position with most cruel and deadly volleys. But
cover was sought only at intervals, and when the hail of shells became
too tempestuous, since the brave little garrison were impressed with a
courage which scorned the fire which was turned upon them. When they
manned the defences and maintained a sturdy front the Boers were
nonplussed. They had expected to carry the position whereas they were
losing men more rapidly than they were killing them. We fired by six,
we fired independently, and whenever it was possible, the Maxim swept
the front of the enemy, but, relatively speaking, nothing could
prevail against the Boer numbers. It was easy enough to hold them in
check, since the first well-directed volley made them fall back some
few yards, but the heavy shell fire would sooner or later have told
its tale. It had already claimed the majority of those who were hit,
since if the shells did not burst and strike some one of those who
were lying near, they splintered upon the stones which composed the
defences of the fort and these splintered in their turn, coming into
contact with any one who was crouching behind them for shelter. Cannon
Kopje in itself was a terrible lesson; but it was also a magnificent
example of gallant conduct in the field. Captain the Hon. D. Marsham
who was killed, and Captain Charles Alexander Kerr Pechell, who died
in the course of the morning from wounds received, were individually
setting as fine an object lesson to their men as could be conceived,
yet it must not be imagined that the standard of their bravery was
much finer or much greater than that of their comrades. Colonel
Walford and Colonel Baden-Powell have each expressed their high
appreciation of the conduct of the men who survived the attack, and
although, as befits their rank, the example of the officers was
admirable, it was no better in reality than the action of the men over
whom they were commanding. Captain Marsham was struck by a rifle
bullet in turning to render some assistance to a wounded comrade. As
he attempted to do this a second bullet passed through his chest, and
a moment later he was dead, just as a third bullet passed through his
shoulder. It was as fine a death as any soldier could perhaps have
chosen, and it had the crowning mercy of being instantaneous.
Captain Pechell was busying himself in directing the rifle fire from
the fort, and thereby directly drew the attention of the enemy. He,
with a detachment of six men, ranged up from time to time, and picked
off the enemy with well-aimed volleys. They had taken up their
position behind the eastern wing of the kopje, engaging a body of the
enemy whose flank fire enfiladed our position. The first shell which
came at these six men fell short, and the second and the third
bursting in the same place, scattered the outer covering of the
breastwork. Pechell ordered his men to retire from the direct line of
shell fire, when just as they were shifting their position a shell
struck the stone parapet, and burst among them. Private Burrows was
killed at once, just as he had been admiring the shooting of a
comrade. Sergeant-Major Upton and Captain Pechell received some
terrible injuries; poor Pechell died of injury extending from the
thigh to the shoulder. No one regrets, so much as his comrades,
Captain Pechell's gallant act, since had he not been endowed with most
magnificent courage he would have preserved discretion in the method
by which he exposed himself to the enemy, and by the death of these
two officers, Captain Marsham and Captain Pechell, her Majesty loses
two officers of exceptional promise and soldierly qualifications.
The casualties of this action alone were eight killed and three
wounded, four being killed upon the spot, four dying of their wounds
within twelve hours of the action. Captain Marsham, Sergeant-Major
Curnihan, Private Burrows, and Private Martin were killed in the fort;
Captain Pechell, Sergeant-Major Upton, Private Nicholas and Private
Lloyd died of wounds; Sergeant-Major Butler, Corporal Cooke and
Private Newton were wounded.
That night the garrison paid its farewell duties to those gallant men
who were killed at Cannon Kopje. Their interment took place at six
o'clock, and as we followed in the wake of the _cortege_ we felt the
shock which brought home to each of us the bitter fact that we should
henceforth know them no more. The attack of the Boers upon Cannon
Kopje had been so sudden, so utterly unexpected, and the manner in
which these men of the British South Africa Police had met their
death, had been so valorous that the sympathies of the entire town had
been most keenly aroused and overcome by the appalling swiftness of
the tragedy; there was no one who did not feel that in some way he was
himself a mourner even though the men who had been killed were quite
indifferent to him. Doubtless before the siege terminates we shall
become accustomed to our situation, and realise that after all it is
but the natural issue to a condition of belligerency that no one can
quite tell what sorrow the day will bring forth. But at present these
tragedies come upon us with a vivid freshness which is almost
unnerving and which stimulate disquietening fancies in the minds even
of the most callous.
The cemetery here is in close proximity to the Boer lines, and lies to
the north of the town. It is a small enclosure banked by white rough
stones, and set amid green trees, where gentle fragrance imparts a
balminess to the breeze. It is as quiet and peaceful, by force of
contrast to the dried-up veldt around, as some oasis in the desert.
There is a winding path from the hospital to the cemetery; a road
which at the present moment is flanked in two places by the forts of
the Railway Division, and kept well defined by the footsteps of those
who bear their burdens to the tomb. Since the siege began we have lost
twenty-five, and with one engagement following rapidly upon another,
nightfall usually ushers in a scene in which a small body of men may
be seen gathered round an open grave, waiting irresolutely to take
some share in the rites of the burial service. We paced slowly and
solemnly along this veldt track, depressed not so much by the fate
which had befallen them, as by the hideous realism with which the
appalling uncertainty of war had been brought home to us. In the
darkness of the evening we could see across the veldt the fires of the
enemy's position, and as the _cortege_ wound its way from the hospital
we marched to the boom of the Boer artillery, while passing bullets
sang the notes of our evening hymn above our heads, and dropped about
us in the sand. Along the eastern front of the town as it lay behind
us, an occasional blaze of light in the sky told us where the shells
of the enemy were bursting, and to many came the thought that perhaps
even of those who had remained to do their duty in the trenches, there
were some who, less fortunate than others, might have already kept
their last vigils. In time we reached the grave side, then as we
gathered round the open spaces which had been so quickly prepared,
those who felt their loss the keenest, those who had been comrades and
close friends of the killed, paid their last homage to their memory
by placing some little trinket, some slight token of personal
friendship and affection, upon the winding sheet. At this juncture,
when war is all around us, when every able-bodied man is standing to
his arms, it is not possible to provide the dead with anything better
than a simple sheet. The men who fall in these days are interred in
their blood-stained uniforms, since there be no time in which to dress
their bodies. Those upon whom the funeral service was about to be read
lay in two waggons, silent shrouded witnesses to the fleeting vanity
which attends all heroes. Around the entrance to the cemetery the
officers of the staff, the commanding officers of the outposts,
representatives of every corps and every troop had foregathered,
following closely upon the heels of those who, bearing the grim
burdens upon their shoulders epitomised in their action the horrors of
war. It seemed as we stood there waiting, listening to the solemn
words of the service, punctuated now and then as they were, by the
screams of shells, by the angry snap of the Mauser, and the droning of
the Martini bullets, that these men who were now dead had achieved the
full honour of their calling. Indeed, many were there who would have
given gladly their own lives in exchange for that of their friend,
while there was not one who did not feel that the manner in which
their end had come to them was impressed with all that was most noble.
For a moment after the service had concluded, we stood listening to
the strains of the Last Call. As its solemn notes died away, and we
retraced our steps to the various trenches and earthworks which, for
the moment, gave us shelter, we little imagined that within a few
hours, those of us who were correspondents would follow the body of
one from amongst ourselves once more upon this road. The following
night Lieutenant Murchison, who was in charge of the guns, wilfully
shot with his revolver Mr. E. G. Parslow, war correspondent of the
London _Daily Chronicle_. The horror of such a crime still hangs over
us, and is not in any way diminished by the fact that an officer who
had already distinguished himself by his career, should now be
awaiting the verdict of a Field Court Martial upon the gravest charge
in the criminal calendar. Poor Parslow had endeared himself to
everybody by the genial sympathy which he extended to those who were
themselves in trouble. He had won the admiration of many by the
calmness with which he conducted himself under the heaviest fire.