A LITTLE GUN PRACTICE
_December 23rd, 1899._
We take a keen interest in our artillery, although we never cease to
deplore the fact that the War Office did not think it necessary to
send to Mafeking anything better than old muzzle-loading
seven-pounders of the Crimean period. Their range is restricted, and
their mobility is greatly inferior to more modern types; but if they
have not enabled us to do very much, we have at least been able to
return their fire. In this way quite a little flutter of enthusiasm
has been aroused through having unearthed an antiquated
sixteen-pounder gun. It would seem to have been made about 1770, and
is identical with those which up till very recently adorned the quay
at Portsmouth. Its weight is 8 cwt. 2 qr. 10 lb., and it was made by
B. P. and Co. It is a naval gun, and is stamped "No. 6 port." How it
came here is uncertain, and its origin unknown; but one gathers that
it must have been intended more for privateering than for use in any
Government ship of war, since it is wanting in all official
superscription. This weapon, which we have now christened "B.-P." out
of compliment to the Colonel, has been lying upon the farm of an
Englishman whose interests are very closely united with the native
tribe whose headquarters are in Mafeking Stadt. Mr. Rowlands can
recall the gun passing this way in charge of two Germans nearly forty
years ago. He remembers to have seen it in the possession of Linchwe's
tribe, and upon his return to the Baralongs, after one of his trading
journeys, he urged the old chief to secure it for use in defence of
the Stadt against the attacks of Dutch freebooters. The chief then
visited Linchwe and bought the gun for twenty-two oxen, bringing it
down to Mafeking upon his waggon. In those days it had three hundred
rounds of ammunition, which were utilised in tribal fights. With the
exception of visits which the gun made to local tribes, it has
remained here and is now in the possession of Mr. Rowlands. It has
recently been mounted, and is in active operation against our enemies.
We have made balls for it, and are intending to manufacture shells, in
the hope that we shall at least be able to reach the emplacement of
"Big Ben." The first trial of "B.-P." in its new career gave very
satisfactory results. With two pounds of powder it threw a ball of ten
pounds more than two thousand yards. The power of the charge was
increased by half pounds until a charge of three pounds threw a ball
of the same weight as the first rather more than two miles. We,
therefore, have pinned our hopes upon it, and commend to the
responsible authorities the reflections which may be derived from the
fact that our chief and most efficient means of defence, lie in such a
weapon.
After many weeks of inactivity upon our part, we have lately taken the
initiative against the foe, whose present mode of war, so far as this
place is concerned, would seem to give preference to the chastened
security of laagers already beyond the three-mile limit from the town.
Upon two occasions during the last week we have celebrated dawn with
many salvoes of artillery, securing sufficient noise and effect from
our shell fire display, to excite the town to no little enthusiasm.
Moreover, up to the present, reaction has not set in, and we are even
more cheerful to-day than we were at the beginning of the siege.
Dingdaan's Day, the earlier of the two events, was distinguished by
the Boers, as by ourselves, with a bombardment, which opened with a
hundred-pound shell from "Big Ben," landing in the Headquarters Office
at half-past two in the morning. Fortunately no one sustained any
injury from this untimely marauder of our rest, the corner of the
building alone being shattered, and the town itself sprinkled with
fragments of masonry and shell. A few hours later the enemy again
started firing, while our guns upon the east front proceeded to give a
good account of themselves. About seven o'clock firing for the day
ceased from the Boer lines, since they devoted themselves to psalm
singing and prayer gathering in their laagers in commemoration of
their day of independence; but we, upon our part, threw four rounds at
noon into their camp, and then we, too, enjoyed the comparative peace
of the siege. For the next few days our guns remained quiet, and "Big
Ben" kept its nose pointed upon the furthest limits of the Stadt or
Cannon Kopje, until the impression gained ground that the Boers had
shifted the gun round to a position upon which they were very busily
engaged on the western side of the Stadt. There were those even who
were willing to lay odds that, when the gun fired again, it would be
found to have taken up a new site. And so universal was this idea that
it was not altogether discarded by members of the Staff. With a view
to disproving this illusion Colonel Baden-Powell arranged that all our
available artillery, under Major Panzera, should effect a
reconnaissance of the Boer lines upon the east of the town, from which
it could easily be learnt whether the fire of the big gun still
dominated that front.
There had been some little talk of a movement against the five-pound
gun, which the enemy had located at Game Tree, and upon Sunday night I
camped with Captain Vernon, from whose fort upon the western outposts,
the sortie would have taken place. However, nothing happened, and
although a few shells fell about us at daybreak, there was nought to
interest one beyond the usual routine of daily life upon the western
outposts. Upon returning to town I learnt that the following morning
might reveal something more important than a mere artillery exchange.
Towards nightfall, to those who knew about the contemplated move,
Mafeking appeared to present much unusual animation. Artillery
officers, whose duty detained them at points distant from the town,
gathered at Headquarters to receive Major Panzera's final instructions
before setting out for their emplacements, as at the same time small
detachments of men moved to reinforce the entrenchments along the
eastern front. For the most part the town went to its rest in
ignorance of the surprise which was being laid for the enemy at
daybreak upon the following morning, and by nine o'clock the nocturnal
aspect of the town was eminently peaceful. The transformation from the
harsh and biting sunlight of the day to the soothing and eerie light
of night impressed the hour with grandeur and solemnity, which was in
striking contrast to the labour upon which we were engaged. From the
town, those guns which were not already in position moved to their
stations--one, the Hotchkiss, being despatched to an emplacement which
had only been completed the preceding night. It was a pleasant
scramble to this position across the veldt, and so near to the enemy's
lines that we could hear the murmur of their voices as they called to
one another in the trenches and discerned their gloomy figures
silhouetted against the skyline. The Hotchkiss, which was our extreme
piece upon the north-east of the town, was to direct its fire upon the
enemy at the waterworks and the opposing corner of their advanced
trenches. Its precise utility was uncertain, since it was not possible
to see the object at which its fire would be directed, but, as the gun
party moved to the emplacement, the officer in charge arranged with
the nearest entrenchment in the rear to signal the accuracy of his
range. Then we set out to visit the outposts and the different
emplacements. Time and distance passed rapidly in the starlight
expanse of the night, and few things could have been more impressive
than the calm which had come upon the town. From the veldt, as we cut
directly across from the Hotchkiss to the nearest post, it seemed as
though we were passing some walled-in city of the ancient days. At
short distances the outlines of the forts showed out against the
buildings, and it became almost difficult to suppress the cry to the
sentry, "Watchman, what of the night?" As we made our rounds it was
interesting to note how some points had received heavier fire than at
others. The ground round the Dutch Church was ploughed and furrowed
by shell, and at Ellis's Corner and across the front of the location
to Cannon Kopje there were numerous traces of the enemy's bombardment.
Presently the rounds were concluded, and Major Panzera went to snatch
a few hours' rest before he opened fire in the morning. As upon
Dingdaan's morning, so this time did I attach myself to the
emplacement under the direct control of Major Panzera, at the Dutch
Church, and around this, as he arrived there, the hour of midnight
chiming from the church towers, there were the sleeping figures of the
gunners. For the time we slept together, and when Major Panzera
aroused us in the morning the rawness of the morning air foretold the
earliness of the hour.
The mists of night were still rising from the veldt about the Boer
lines, and as we looked through our field-glasses, figures here and
there, were busily engaged in gathering brushwood for the matutinal
fire. Then, as it was yet early, and they were about to prepare their
coffee, we boiled up ours, and, passing round the billy, filled our
pannikins to the health of the enemy. It was but a grim jest, and one
perhaps which shows the indifference of the men to the accidents of
fate, but as we drank, he who was number one said, raising his tin to
the air, "We will drink with you in hell." But the hour of jesting was
soon over and the gun party prepared for their morning's work by
running up the gun into the embrasure. Number one laid the gun, and
number two stood with his lanyard in his hand ready to connect the
friction tube. Number three hung upon the trail piece, and he, with
the sponge and ramrod, was prepared for immediate service. Within a
few feet of them were two who were actively adjusting the time fuses.
At their side there was a pile of common shell and shrapnel, and with
this, the local colour of the picture is completed. Of a sudden
Panzera gave the order to the man who fed the gun--"Common shell,
percussion fuse, prepare to load," and as it passed from the hands of
the man to the muzzle of the gun, one found oneself muttering a prayer
for the souls of the Boers who were so speedily to be sent into
perdition. "Load," said Panzera rapidly, and the gun was loaded. Then,
as I focussed my glasses upon the scene, the Major took one last
squint down the sights of the gun. It was well and truly laid, and as
he straightened himself to the precision of the parade ground the end
came rapidly. "Prepare to fire," said he, and number two stepped
forward, dropping the friction tube into the vent. "Fire," said
Panzera, and one raised the glasses to fix them upon a party of Boers
whom we could see drinking their coffee, as they sat upon the parapet
of the trench. There was a roar, a cloud of smoke, and a red fierce
tongue of flame leapt from the muzzle of the gun. Dust and smoke and
sand enveloped the place where those Boers had been sitting, and I
found myself wondering and endeavouring to believe that the breach in
the parapet foreboded no great harm to anybody. The battle, if battle
it were to be, had been started by a well-directed shell. Quickly the
gun was trained and loaded again, and I felt the excitement entering
into my soul. The feelings of humanity left me, and I began to hope
that we should kill them every time. Again our gun fired, falling
short, but giving the signal to the others along the front to join in
the comparative splendour of the cannonade. Away down in the river-bed
our guns boomed; beyond it and between that emplacement and Cannon
Kopje there were the jets of smoke from the Nordenfeldt like the
spurts of steam from a geyser. Above us there was the Hotchkiss and
the merry rattle of the Maxim. So far as noise, and numbers of the
pieces engaged, went the press of battle was about us. All down our
front there broke the whistling rush of Lee-Metford rifles, as the
eastern line of the defence dropped into action. For the moment the
Boers were surprised at the manner and method of our onslaught, and
beyond a few desultory rifle shots our guns fired some few rounds
before any shells came back in answer. As Major Panzera had opened the
fight so they threw their first shells upon his emplacement, and a
well-directed flight of one-pound steel-topped base fuse Maxim broke
in a cloud of dust about us, flinging their sharp-edged fragments in
all directions. Then we fired again, raking the parapet of the Boers'
trench, and wondering whether the big gun would reply to us, or
whether those who had speculated upon its removal would win. The music
of the fight grew louder and louder, the quick-firing guns of the
enemy paying their tribute. From where we were we could see the gun in
the river-bed emplacement doing remarkable execution. The smoke of our
own hung heavy upon us, mingling with the dust from the Maxim shell,
as the enemy continued to pepper our emplacement. We were beginning to
find it difficult to see, while the roar of the guns made it almost
impossible to catch the officer's orders. Suddenly, as our gun again
broke forth, the bell clanged in the distance six times. It was the
signal that the big gun had fired, the six strokes indicating that it
was pointed upon us. We heard it and crouched in the dust, and as we
crouched we wondered. There was a screaming tumult in the air, a
deafening explosion at our feet shook the ground; earth and dust,
stones and bits of grass fell all about us, and the roofs of buildings
upon either side of us rattled with the fragments of the shell as it
burst within a circle of twenty-five yards from the gun. It was a
moment rather fine than frightful, with just sufficient danger in it
to make it interesting, but, if anything, somewhat quickly over. We
wiped the dust from our faces, shook the grass from our shirts, and
laid again: once more fired, and chuckled to see, through rifts in the
battle smoke, that it had landed in the very centre of the trench.
Again the bell clanged sonorously, and a building not fifteen yards
from us was blown to pieces. They were getting nearer, and making
magnificent shooting, when the Nordenfeldt turned its fire upon "Big
Ben" itself. From where we were we could see the thin columns of smoke
rising, as the bullets burst before and behind the emplacement. If
anything were calculated to check its fire it was the irritating and
penetrating possibility of the armour-piercing Nordenfeldt. With the
introduction of "Big Ben" into the morning's festivities, the Boers
opened from their trenches, with their Mauser and Martini rifles. In
the intervals between the shells from "Big Ben," the Maxim, and
quick-firing nine-pounders, the enemy swept our emplacements with
their rifle fire. They came through the embrasure with quite fatal
accuracy, dropping at our feet and raising dust all around us, but the
tale of the one is the tale of the many, and the same scene was
occurring throughout the entire eastern front. For a moment it became
impossible to serve the gun, and we desisted with apologies to the
enemy, but anon rifle fire was deflected, and we again trained the
gun upon those very advanced trenches of the enemy; but, as we fired,
the bell rang, and for the third time their shell, passing ours in its
flight, tore up the ground in front of us. And then the Nordenfeldt
spoke again, shooting into the very smoke of the gun as though they
were anxious to drop projectiles into the breach itself. And to the
north of us the Hotchkiss spitted, as though resenting the intrusion
of this big bully. But there unfortunately it ended, and no more big
shells came our way, and we contented ourselves with a parting sally.
Then the gun was sponged and laid to rest in the trench, and the spare
shell put back into the box as the engagement closed. Then Panzera
called his men together and thanked them, expressing his admiration
for their courage and their coolness. Then we cheered him, and
returning thanks for thanks, we went to breakfast, but in the distance
we could see the Red Cross upon the white background, floating in
tragic isolation, above a waggon, which was stopping ever and anon at
places where we knew our shells had broken. That was in the Boer
lines, but in our own the bugle sounded us to breakfast.