hold a position to the right of the white kopje, and prevent the enemy
from taking it. This position consisted of a small rise, from which we
could fire at the kopje with a sight of 550 paces. To the right of this
rise, at a distance of 80 paces, was a small kloof overgrown with
bushes, and on the other side of the kloof ran a reef of rocks in the
direction of the white kopje. Here some of the burghers had before our
arrival forced eleven khakies to surrender, but they had not succeeded
in occupying the position, as some khakies had remained in the kloof,
and had shouted to them that they would not surrender. We were therefore
warned against that kloof. But while the others were shooting at the
enemy on the white kopje, one of our men went by himself to see if there
really were any khakies left there. He kept under cover wherever he
could--behind the rocks and behind the walls of an old kraal--and came
close up to the kloof without being fired at. On the other side, at a
distance of fifty paces, he heard a wounded man groaning and begging for
water; but, as he was alone, he did not venture to cross the kloof. He
returned to his comrades, but they would pay no attention to his request
to cross, as they thought the enemy were only waiting until more men
came under fire before they began firing.
We continued shooting at the white kopje, from which the enemy were
firing at us. The Captain had a good telescope, through which he could
distinctly see the faces of the enemy on the kopje. If a khaki showed
himself from behind a rock, the Captain pointed him out to one of our
marksmen, Alec Boshoff, who studied the position through the telescope,
and took such good aim that the Captain declared he could see the blood
on the wounded man's face.
The burgher who had gone to the kloof tried to persuade the rest to
cross with him to the other side, as he was sure the enemy were not
inclined to make any resistance there. At length, after twelve, he went
with two others to the opposite side, but first told a few of the best
marksmen to keep an eye on the reef. They crossed the kloof very
cautiously. It was dangerous work, as a shot might come at any moment
from behind one of the numerous shrubs or boulders. But they did not
advance in an unbroken line. Every time they sought cover behind a rock,
from which they watched to see whether the enemy would make their
appearance. They did not all three advance at the same time, either, but
first one and then the other. Whenever they had advanced a few steps,
they stopped to ask the wounded man, who lay groaning there, whether he
was alone. When they reached him they put some grass under his head, and
gave him some brandy from a flask that they always carried with them.
The poor man lay in a pool of blood on a rock under some shrubs. He had
been shot through the leg. His name was Lieutenant Pilkington.
The wounded man took hold of the hands of one of the burghers and begged
him to stay with him. He, however, considered it his duty to advance,
but first assured the poor man that the burghers who were following
could also speak English, and would look after him. Most of our men
followed the three. The rocks and boulders on the reef that we were
climbing afforded us splendid cover from the enemy on the white kopje.
To our left we found some more wounded. My brother took charge of one
with a ghastly wound in his head. We made some prisoners there, who were
too cowardly to defend themselves. A few of our comrades took them down.
We could notice by the guns and rugs that were lying about that the
enemy had fled in a panic, or else we should never have ventured to do
what we did later on.
We could fire at the enemy from a much shorter distance now, but were
not yet in their rear. It was necessary that we should occupy the next
position--a reef running parallel to the reef we were climbing, at a
distance of eighty paces. But it was impossible to take that position,
as our guns were firing bomb after bomb from the valley at our back,
somewhat to the left of us, so that the stones flew up in the air. We
also ran the risk of being taken for khakies, as our men knew nothing of
our venture. The Captain sent down a message to tell them to stop
shelling that position, as we wished to take it. Meanwhile, we kept on
firing at the white kopje, and the khakies kept on firing at us.
I went back to the wounded officer, who was being looked after by the
Captain. While we were standing talking, he died from loss of blood. Oh
the cruel brutality of war! The poor man was not dead five minutes when
we sat smoking his cigarettes.
We moved slightly more to the left towards the boulders. Khaki was on
the one side, we on the other. Some of our men had a most original and
amusing way of getting at the khakies. 'Come out, you rabbits, come out
of your holes, else we'll shoot down the lot of you!' Then the poor
things answered: 'We're afraid to come out. You'll kill us!' They really
thought we would shoot them down if they surrendered. The officers had
lost all control over the soldiers. Later on, at Nooit Gedacht, where
_we_ had cover as well as the enemy, it was proved that as soon as the
officers lose control over the men they remain lying behind the rocks
without firing a shot, as they are too frightened to expose themselves.
Most of them still had their bandoliers full of cartridges--there, too,
when they surrendered.
Before the war the English used to say they would fight us in our own
way, from behind rocks; but they forgot that as soon as an officer,
having to seek cover himself, fails to keep his eye on his men, they are
too cowardly to lift their heads from behind the rocks, as they are not
fighting for their independence. On a field like Selikatsnek we are by
far the better men.
To get the khakies from behind the rocks, one of our men ran as hard as
he could to a rock in their neighbourhood, and aimed at them. Then some
of them threw down their guns and put up their hands. Others surrendered
more calmly. So he sometimes made five or six of them surrender without
their having fired a single shot at him. A shower of bullets always came
from the white kopje, but, as his movements were quick and unexpected,
they could not take proper aim at him. One of the khakies said as he
surrendered: 'It is better to surrender than to be a dead man.' Another:
'Just fancy, in the hands of the Boers! I wonder what poor mother 'll
say!'
Meanwhile the gunners had received the Captain's report, and ceased
bombarding the reef that we wanted to storm. As it was getting late and
there was no other means, one of our men ran forward as hard as he
could, making use of every small covering, while the rest kept firing at
the white kopje to prevent the enemy from taking a proper aim at him.
There were not many khakies behind that reef, neither did they fire at
him. The rest of us followed at intervals, while those who arrived at
the reef again fired at the white kopje to cover the others.
The few khakies who surrendered at the reef we first disarmed, and then
we allowed them to seek cover behind the rocks from the bullets of their
friends. From that position we could see the enemy from the rear. In the
narrow road, at a distance of about 150 paces from us, stood an
ammunition waggon with splendid horses harnessed in it; there was no
room for them to turn to draw away the waggon. A few khakies showed
themselves next to the waggon, but were immediately shot down. A little
further on an ambulance waggon, also inspanned, stood against the kopje;
one could distinctly see how the empty litter was carried up and
brought down again with some of the wounded. Once a man walked next to
the litter as it was carried down; I pointed him out to my brother, as I
suspected his motive. I was right. Just by the ambulance waggon he
disappeared in a donga leading to the valley. My brother, who was a
little higher up the reef than I was, could not hit him, as he appeared
again only for a moment. He was most likely a despatch-rider who went to
warn the guard at Commandonek to retreat.
Further on there were some horses to be seen, and a little further still
the small tents of which the camps consisted. We kept up a constant
fire, but the enemy seemed to have sufficient cover on the kopje--and
they were very obstinate. For some time the firing from the shoulders of
the pass ceased, and in the dark shadow between the high mountains we
for a moment had the feeling that we had been deserted by our men--only
for a moment, for we knew it could not be! The game was in our hands.
The sun sank lower, and we felt if the enemy were not soon compelled, to
surrender they would escape in the dark. There was still one position
which must be taken--the last reef, to which most of the enemy had
retired from the position we now occupied. One of our men, therefore,
let the other six fire a salvo at the kopje, and ran as hard as he could
to a rock at a distance of twenty-five paces ahead, about halfway to the
last reef. But now both the enemy and our own burghers, under Commandant
Coetzee, fired at him so persistently that he was thankful to reach the
rock. He lay there as still as possible, with his gaze fixed on the
reef--as he lay without cover on that side. It was a most critical
moment.
Fortunately he heard, almost at once, one of his comrades, Van Zulch,
call out 'Oh, the white flag! Hullo, the white flag!' and he saw them
climbing down. He lay still a moment longer to convince himself of the
fact, and then calmly went to the last reef, where many khakies
surrendered--and he descended with them. Now the rest of the burghers
came running along from all directions to disarm the enemy in the
dusk--and to take what booty there was to be had. In their eagerness to
get as much booty as possible, they allowed an officer, Major Scobel,
to escape.
As I arrived rather late on the battlefield, I cannot give any account
of the order in which De la Rey placed his men, neither do I know the
number of the enemy's dead and wounded, nor how many lives our victory
cost us. I have never seen any official report concerning this battle.
Field-Cornet Van Zulch, who with Commandant Boshoff, took the officers
to Machadodorp, and who is at present a fellow-prisoner, tells me that
three officers--Colonel Roberts, Lieutenants Davis and Lyall--and 210
soldiers of the Lincolnshire Regiment were taken prisoners, and that
four companies of the Scots Greys had early that morning escaped with
two guns. Our loss, both dead and wounded, was not more than thirteen or
fourteen men. The enemy had made a stubborn resistance, judging from the
number of dead and wounded that were lying on the field. Of the seven of
us who forced the enemy to surrender by attacking them in the rear, not
one was injured, although we were the attacking party. They say that the
khaki prisoners whom we left on the reef remained there all night, and
came down the following morning with little white flags made of the
bandages that a soldier always carries with him, tied to twigs.
VI
GUERILLA LIFE ON THE MAGALIES MOUNTAINS--NARROW ESCAPE OF PRESIDENT
STEYN AND GENERAL DE WET.
Commandant Boshoff had been ordered to take the prisoners to
Machadodorp. He left my brother and me with Captain Kirsten, who had to
reconnoitre in the direction of Rustenburg along the Magalies Mountains.
We first of all passed through Commandonek, and found that deserted by
the enemy. We had no adventures on our way to Rustenburg.
The Rustenburgers, who had nearly all laid down their arms and taken the
oath of neutrality, took courage when they saw De la Rey's big commando,
and joined us one and all.
Then we recognised a great fault in the character of our people. Without
the slightest compunction, they first fail in loyalty to their own
country, and then break the oath of neutrality, although the enemy had
in no single respect violated their part of the contract. Some of them
we, in a way, forced to join us, as we took the guns and horses of the
unwilling ones or of those who acted at all in a suspicious way. We also
called them traitors. But most of the burghers joined us of their own
free will. Many had not taken the oath of neutrality, as they had been
beyond the reach of the enemy; others had, after Lord Roberts'
threatening proclamations, ridden over to the enemy to give up their
arms, but had given up their old rifles and kept the Mausers for
'eventualities,' to use the now historical word of Sir Alfred Milner.
A few of the oath-breakers tried to excuse themselves by the Jesuit plea
that either they did not mean what they swore or else they had purposely
changed the form of the oath. In judging those who broke the oath of
neutrality later on, we must remember that the enemy did not keep to
their part of the contract, and so our men were justified in considering
it as null and void, and, according to William Stead, their forcing us
to take the oath of neutrality was against the Geneva Convention. But it
is too difficult a question for me to discuss.
When the enemy, a few days later, drove us from Olifantsnek, General de
la Rey sent Captain Kirsten with twenty men to the neighbouring kopjes
to prevent the enemy from going on a plundering expedition. Then I for
the first time saw a farm-house burnt down by the enemy. From a high
kopje, by the aid of a telescope, we could distinctly see the movements
of the khakies. The bitter feeling that was roused in us in our
helplessness is not to be described.
General Baden-Powell was in Rustenburg, and Magatonek was also in
possession of the enemy.
It was a most interesting and adventurous time that we spent near the
Magalies Mountains. By day we went reconnoitring along the hills near
the mountains in the direction of Olifantsnek, and towards evening we
withdrew into the thick woods of the kloofs, where it was delightfully
warm both for ourselves and for our horses. When a small number of the
enemy came in our direction, we fired at them unexpectedly from the
hills, and so protected the farm-houses on the mountain-sides.
Occasionally the khakies ventured a little nearer, but always had to
retreat in disorder.
I once nearly fell into the hands of the enemy. As we were reconnoitring
on one of the kopjes, I suggested to a friend that we should go to the
farm in front of us, where none of us had been since Olifantsnek was in
possession of the enemy. We had to ford a donga closed in by barbed
wire. When we got to the farm, we were told that the enemy had not been
there, with the exception of a khaki who had lost his way. He had taken
six eggs from a nest in a kraal and swallowed them greedily, and had
then passed on to the garden without speaking a word to the harmless,
inquisitive women of the farm.
For safety's sake I put the boys on guard and had the horses tied. The
view was so enclosed on all sides that the enemy could appear most
unexpectedly from Olifantsnek. We had been there only a short time, when
we were told that the enemy were coming in large numbers from the
direction of Rustenburg. We mounted at once and rode back, but could
not get back to our comrades on the hills because of the barbed wire in
the donga. We had gone only about 250 paces along the drift, when the
enemy came riding along. Fortunately, they were intent on plunder and
did not see us, as they kept their eyes fixed in the direction of the
house. If we had been a few seconds later we should have fallen into
their hands. The few burghers on the kopjes began to fire at them, and
when I got to the top of one of the kopjes I saw the enemy--about 100 in
number--fleeing in great disorder. This expedition cost them several
dead and wounded, besides their plunder--meal, fowls, and other
things--that they dropped in their flight.
When I went back to the farm later on, I was told that one of the girls
had clapped her hands with delight when the enemy fled past them. That
must have been the reason why she and her family were so cruelly
insulted and plundered by the khakies afterwards. We met with great
kindness during our stay in the Magalies Mountains. We always got
something to eat, and towards evening we bought some loaves of bread to
take back with us to our hiding-place. In those days we could always
get forage for our horses, and they were in very good condition.
Meanwhile General de la Rey had gone with a commando to the west of
Rustenburg, and had left two Commandants in the Zwartkoppen, to the
north-east of Rustenburg.
When we got the tidings that the enemy had taken possession of
Selikatsnek, we went as rapidly as we could to the Zwartkoppen. We had
many adventures on our way. My brother and I rode on ahead, thinking
that the others would follow, but they went a round-about way, and so
did not catch us up. When we left the wide tract of wood that stretches
along the Magalies Mountains, we noticed that the enemy from Rustenburg
had come to meet the column from Selikatsnek. Fortunately, our horses
were good, and we escaped the danger by riding back into the wood to a
farm that I knew of. While we were giving our horses a rest there, a
despatch-rider came along looking for a reconnoitring corps. We rode
with him in the track of our comrades, who had taken a great circuit
round Rustenburg. We arrived safely at Zwartkoppen, and immediately
joined Commandant Boshoff, who had just returned from Machadodorp.
The Commandants now followed General de la Rey. We came up with his
commando to the west of Rustenburg, where he had surrounded a party of
the enemy. Commandant Boshoff, however, was immediately sent to
Olifantsnek, as the enemy had left Rustenburg and the pass was clear.
Our men were most changeable in their moods. The slightest favourable
tidings raised their spirits, but any unfavourable news made their
courage sink into their shoes. There was much talk about the retreating
movement of the enemy. Some spoke of intervention; others said the
English soldiers had refused to fight any longer, or that the whole of
the colony was in rebellion. This talk went the round even among the
officers, probably because they did not understand the enemy's
movements.
Now we know the meaning of it all. It was De Wet who was being followed.
We were not two days at Olifantsnek, when, to our great surprise, De Wet
arrived with a commando of 2,800 men, followed by 40,000 English. He
had been by treason separated along with Steyn from the chief commando,
and had been chased by the enemy a month already.
It was a great lager that advanced through Olifantsnek--the largest
commando that we had seen yet, with numerous carts, waggons, beasts of
burden, and other belongings. And it was then I made the acquaintance of
President Steyn and De Wet. Our Commandant with his men accompanied
President Steyn to Machadodorp to President Kruger. We put up our tents
for the time being next to those of President Steyn, so that we had time
and opportunity enough to learn to know him. When the enemy a few days
later broke through at Magatonek, to the west of Rustenburg, General De
Wet sent for me one evening and ordered me to take a report to
Rustenburg, and gave me some instructions for the Commandants there.
I had to take a message for President Steyn also, that the ambulance of
the Orange Free State was to follow the lager in the direction of the
Krokodil River.
Late at night I arrived at Rustenburg, only to find that the lagers had
already taken flight. The enemy were expected at any moment. But the
ambulance was there still, and all night long I led it in the direction
the General had told me the lagers would take.
Late the following morning I arrived at De Wet's lager, which had moved
a few hours further on to Sterkstroom. The commando left there that
afternoon, and went along the Magalies Mountains to Commandonek. That
day and that night we had a first experience of the long tiresome
marches that enabled De Wet to mislead the enemy.
That night President Steyn made a most favourable impression on us with
his talk. He did not try to encourage us with hopes of intervention, but
merely pointed out that the war might last a long time still, and that
we would have to enter the Colony.
At Commandonek we rested a few hours while De Wet himself went to
reconnoitre. He sent a message to the English officer in charge of the
pass that he must surrender. The officer replied that he did not quite
understand _who_ must surrender--he or De Wet. I think this was merely a
dodge on De Wet's part to find out by the signature of the reply who
was in charge of the army at the pass, and so to make a guess at the
numbers of the enemy.
He decided not to attack the pass, and before daybreak next day we were
on the move again. Some time afterwards at Warmbad I heard that an
English General had related this dodge of De Wet's, but he thought De
Wet had threatened him with a very small force, as his commando must
still have been at Olifantsnek. It is an example of the way we misled
the enemy by our mobility.
VII
WITH PRESIDENT STEYN TO PRESIDENT KRUGER
Near Krokodil River, on Carlyle's Farm, President Steyn and his
attendants separated from De Wet's commando, and went in the direction
of Zoutpan to Machadodorp. We were about seventy-five men in all. The
little commando consisted of carts, a few trolleys, and horsemen on
strong, well-conditioned horses. The Free Staters nearly all had one or
two spare horses. Our own commando still always consisted of twelve or
thirteen men, and the small ambulance waggon which we used for
provisions. The French doctor had remained behind with De la Rey. We
moved very fast. At Zoutpan--a sunken kopje like the mouth of a crater,
with a pan at the bottom, from which the salt is got--I met some old
acquaintances, who pretended to have come there for salt. During our
talk my suspicions were roused by their curiosity, and by their
knowledge of President Steyn's arrival. I also doubted their tale that
their trolley stood behind a kopje, and not at Zoutpan, and I warned the
Commandant against them. He became very anxious, and made us move on as
rapidly as possible, for once we had crossed the Pienaars River all
danger from khaki would be past. It was a good thing that the Commandant
made us travel so fast, for we had only just outspanned at Pienaars
River the following morning when the khakies' bomb-Maxim began firing at
the outposts of General Grobler's Waterberg commando, which was
stationed there. We had only just time to inspan and ride off to the
Boschveld, towards the Olifants River, where we would be safe, while
General Grobler disappeared in the direction of Warmbad.
At Pienaars River I made the acquaintance of General Celliers, who was
loudly proclaiming the way in which he would squash khaki if only the
burghers would fight. He is the exception to the rule that all braggarts
are cowards. Most of the braggarts have gradually disappeared from the
scene, but the deeds of this hero were always in accordance with his
words.
We heard afterwards that a detachment of the enemy had followed us, but
we had had too great a start, and had besides taken a short-cut of which
they knew nothing. It would not have been easy for the khakies to
overtake a well-mounted commando like President Steyn's.
We were also told that the enemy knew of the arrival of President Steyn,
which strengthened my belief that the two suspicious characters at
Zoutpan were the informers. Whenever we, as the attacking party, made
prisoners, they always declared that they had known all about our plan
of attack--probably to discourage us with the thought that through the
treachery of our own people the enemy always knew all about our
movements.
For a long way we followed the same road that we had taken with
Commandant Boshoff to Rustenburg. We arrived safely at Waterval-Boven
(President Kruger having already retreated from Machadodorp), where we
stayed a few days and heard the famous Battle of Dalmanutha (August
27)--the most awful roar of cannon that I have ever heard.
From Waterval-Boven we went to Nelspruit, to which President Kruger had
moved in his railway-home. We gave our horses a week's rest and passed
the time fishing and hunting. We were content there, as we got plenty to
eat, and our horses, too, were well fed--an important matter to us just
then. Circumstances were forcing us to attach much value to all sorts of
trifles that we would formerly not even have noticed.