the courage and the moral sense of the burghers up to the mark with his
meek Christian spirit. He also formed the debating club that was such a
welcome recreation to us. We often thought that the enemy would be
surprised if they could know of the debates we had--for instance, 'Must
the "hands-uppers" be allowed to vote after the war is over?' 'Must the
Kaffirs or natives have more rights?' 'Is intervention advisable under
the circumstances? etc. The men in the neighbourhood of Tafelkop were
mostly 'hands-uppers,' so we confiscated their property, and their grain
and cattle we took for the use of the lager, but we always left
sufficient for the use of the women and children. The future of a farm
on which a lager had camped for some time was dark indeed, for even the
grain in the fields was destroyed by the demon of war. If the owner of
the farm were not a 'hands-upper,' our officers usually succeeded in
preventing the destruction. Sometimes the pulling up of the fencing was
inevitable, as we were so short of fuel. The Boer women were sometimes
forced to accept the protection of the enemy, after their farms and
property had been destroyed by friend and enemy alike.
The negotiation of February 7, between Kitchener and Louis Botha, was
read out to us at Tafelkop. The burghers were unanimous in condemnation
of Kitchener's conditions, and were fully satisfied with Botha's short,
vigorous answer. Had we indeed fought so long and so fiercely only to
become an English colony, and not to be allowed to carry arms unless we
had a license? And for the Kaffirs to be eventually allowed to vote?
The men who were attached to their families and farms, but preferred
losing all to becoming 'hands-uppers,' were unanimous in declaring
Kitchener's conditions unacceptable, and all were ready to fight to the
bitter end. We often spoke of the terrible suffering of our women and
children in the refugee camps, and sometimes doubted whether it were not
better for their sakes to give in. We did not know whether patriotism
were worth the shedding of so much innocent blood. It cost us more than
we can tell to remain firm and brave in our undertaking.
At that time we also heard of De Wet's retreat from Cape Colony, but not
officially. It was broken to us gently, and at first as if he had been
successful, so that we all thought peace was to follow soon.
How we rejoiced!
But a few days later De Wet's official report was read out to us, and
then our courage sank indeed. What was the good of our fighting if the
Colony would not help us?
The disappointment was not great enough to make us lay down our arms,
but we knew it would be many a long day before peace was in the land.
How long should we still be chased from place to place? When would there
be rest for our exhausted bodies? And how we longed for our dear ones,
if only we should find them alive!
CONCLUSION
BATTLE OF STOMPIES--IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
We stayed fully three weeks at Tafelkop. I was appointed commissary of
the Krugersdorp commando, and rode round to all the farms to procure the
needful for our commando. As General De la Rey had been camping close by
at Rietfontein for some time, there was not much left to commandeer,
unless we deprived the women whose husbands were in the veld of the
necessaries of life.
Our lager was moved from Tafelkop to Rietpan, from whence a few hundred
of our horsemen started with some guns and a few trolleys for Groot
Kafferkraal, in Hartbeestfontein district. General De la Rey had come
over to organize the expedition in person, and accompanied General Kemp.
I went with a man called Jooste to the neighbourhood of Lichtenberg and
Klein Kafferkraal to commandeer cattle. There I heard many tales of the
enemy's behaviour as they passed through a week before.
For some reason or other the houses there had not been burnt, perhaps
owing to the verbal negotiation between Botha and Kitchener. I know of
only one house that was burned down there. That was the finest house in
the neighbourhood and belonged to Willem Basson. Mrs. Basson herself
told me how it happened. Her husband had fled with the cattle when the
enemy came along. The soldiers asked her for money. They said such a
fine house must contain a great deal of money, and when she refused they
became most impertinent. The finding of a packet of dynamite in the
coach-house afforded a fine excuse. The dynamite was used by Basson for
the making of wells. On finding the packet they shouted 'Hurrah!' and
rushed off with it to the camp close to the house. They came back after
a while and stormed the house, smashing the windows with stones. Truly a
heroic storming of a fortress held by women! They destroyed everything
in the house, and the women and children were obliged to flee to Mrs.
Scheffers at Klein Kafferkraal, where I met them.
We know of many cases of cruelty and violence, cases that have roused us
to a passion of hatred.
I do not believe that the cases of violence, which are not spoken of
because of the horror, are tolerated by the military authorities, who
are probably ignorant of them. One can understand that the worst were
committed by isolated patrols who could give free vent to their evil
passions. We cannot always hold the chief officers responsible for acts
committed by individual soldiers, neither are our officers responsible
for the unlawful acts of individuals on our side. But if the English,
with their national pride and obstinacy, deny these acts of violence, we
can give them sufficient proof of more cases than one.
I was not present when the Krugersdorpers attacked Babington's force
near Lensdenplaats, in the neighbourhood of Groot Kafferkraal. But the
following morning, when they were retreating, I joined them with some
cattle, and was present at the Battle of Stompies. The night before the
battle I heard De la Rey's order given to Kemp to march his men at four
o'clock the following morning in the direction of the enemy. He was told
to retreat fighting, in case the enemy attacked, so as to give our
reinforcements an opportunity of attacking in the rear. Kemp ordered the
lager, or, rather, the few waggons, to retire to Bodenstein's farm the
following morning.
While we were busy inspanning we heard the enemy's bomb-Maxim, and
before the waggons had forded the dangerous drift of the donga near
Bodenstein's farm the bullets flew over our heads from the bult behind
us. The women fled into the house and the burghers retreated as fast as
they could. The enemy had surrounded us in the night, and each burgher
had to do his utmost to escape from out of the half-circle. The few who
stayed behind to defend the guns were soon obliged to fly after the
rest, and to abandon one gun still on the other side of the drift. The
others might have been saved if the women's lager had not impeded their
flight by obstructing the way.
We retreated to Vetpan. Those of the burghers who retreated more to the
right in the direction of Stompies were the best off, as the right wing
of the enemy had to be on its guard not to enter the wood there. The
enemy fired at us from horseback to enhance our panic, which was clever
of them, as it was impossible for us to turn in any direction. My horse
was overworked, and had changed its pace into a heavy gallop, a sure
sign that it would not last much longer. When I looked round, I saw a
few khakies riding on ahead, making our burghers 'hands-up.'
Fortunately, someone released a spare horse; I mounted it without a
saddle and made good my escape, but was incapable of riding for several
days after.
Our men made no attempt to check the enemy's progress. They all fled,
each one bent on saving himself. A Boer, if once he flies, is not easily
turned aside. But it must be remembered that our horses were terribly
overworked. They had to live on nothing but grass, and very little of
that. We all also recognised the impossibility of checking the enemy, as
we ran the risk of shooting our own men and women; so our only chance
lay in flight.
The horses of the enemy were soon 'done up,' and they had to satisfy
themselves with our guns--two large ones that we had taken from them at
Colenso, a damaged bomb-Maxim and several smaller ones. They took 136
prisoners, among whom were Lieutenant Odendaal, 32 artillerists, 13
burghers, and for the rest women and children and some big, full-grown
cowardly men who were in the habit of fleeing with the women and
children. The greater part of the women's lager fell into their hands.
The few waggons of Generals Smuts and Kemp that they captured were of no
importance. Jooste and Malherbe were also taken prisoners.
I rode with General De la Rey to Tafelkop, where our lager was
stationed. In a week's time I was back again at Stompies. I had been
there scarcely an hour, when the tidings came that the enemy were camped
on Willem Basson's farm. The following morning before daybreak I was on
my way to Rietfontein. There, too, I had been only about an hour, when
another column came down upon me from the direction of Ventersdorp. I
fled to Tivee Buffelgeschiet with two boiled mealies and a piece of
meat in my hands. Before I reached that farm, half an hour's ride, my
horse was done up. I crept behind an ant-hill and prepared to defend
myself against four scouts who seemed to be coming straight towards me.
Suddenly, however, they turned off in the direction of their main-guard,
because, as I afterwards heard, they were threatened by eight of our
scouts.
But the khakies were nearing me, and I was obliged to lead my horse into
a mealie-veld and to lie down full length in the rain. They did not
appear, however, and I concluded that they had camped at Rietfontein, so
I walked my horse to the farm of Mrs. Jansen, one of the few hospitable
women in that sparsely inhabited country. She hastily informed me that
the khakies had been there.
The eight burghers soon returned, among them a young man who was nursing
a wounded man on the farm. In the night we went into the veld with a
small brother of his, who rode a mule, and returned in the morning to
watch the enemy's movements from the roof of the house. My horse was so
ill with horse-sickness that it shook under me. The enemy suddenly
appeared on the long bult (hill) along which I had come the day before.
I carried my saddle into the house and fled into the veld. From behind
an ant-hill I watched the enemy shooting my poor sick horse. They passed
by me several times, but at last I was discovered, and had to give up my
beloved Mauser without a chance of defending myself. My two companions
escaped. This happened on April 3, 1901.
Fortunately, I fell into the hands of decent khakies who did not insist
on examining my old veld-shoes that I was using as a money-box, so I was
able to keep my precious four pounds. They took from me only a few
trifles by way of curiosities, and said I was sure to be robbed of them
sooner or later by the soldiers in the camp. I was told that I could
congratulate myself that I was made prisoner, as many columns were
coming down upon us from all directions, so that we would be obliged to
surrender that very day. I answered that the war had given sufficient
proof that their expectations were not always realized.
When the officers of the guard were told that I was taken under arms, a
curt order was given to 'Let him walk.' When I protested and pointed
out that I was a prisoner of war and not a criminal, I was treated with
consideration as an ordinary soldier. I was taken by Babington's force.
The following day the waggon lager arrived at Tafelkop, and the cavalry
that had been sent on to capture our lager joined the camp _minus_ any
prisoners. When the enemy's lager arrived at Potchefstroom a week later,
it brought along seventeen or eighteen 'hands-uppers,' one ambulance
doctor, several families, and one prisoner of war. Six of the
'hands-uppers' told me that the whole month we were camped at Tafelkop
they had hidden from us in their bedrooms so as not to be obliged to
break their oath of neutrality.
I came across an old acquaintance of mine in the lager--Phister, who had
served under Commandant Boshoff. I knew that he had been wounded in the
leg at the Battle of Stompies and taken by our men to Rietpan. On the
trek from Ventersdorp to Potchefstroom I discovered him lying on his
back in the blazing sun on an open trolley, near to Potchefstroom; he
shouted to me that he had had nothing to eat during the whole of the
eighteen hours' trek.
In Potchefstroom our trolley, with the twelve 'hands-uppers,' the
ambulance doctor, and myself, was sent in the direction of the prison.
People came towards us from all directions. Some women called out to us:
'Why were you so stupid as to let yourselves be caught?' Others
inquired, weeping, after husbands and sons.
When we got to the prison I alone was detained, and had the disagreeable
experience of being locked up. The ambulance doctor was dismissed, as he
was 'Not guilty'; and the 'hands-uppers' were taken to the refugee camp.
The treatment that the prisoners of war receive varies, and depends very
much on the prisoners themselves and on the men into whose hands they
fall. I was allowed to see my mother and sister, who obtained a pass to
come from Pretoria to see me. But I have seen the guards roughly send
away weeping women who were begging to be allowed a few words only with
their dear ones.
At Elandsfontein Station the Transvaal colours worn by some of the
prisoners of war were taken away by force. On the long journey to
Ladysmith we were packed like herrings in open trucks, with insufficient
covering for the cold nights.
The Ladysmith camp contained chiefly burghers who had been 'tamed' by
the enemy, and were ready to take the oath of allegiance. They were well
treated.
On April 3 I was taken prisoner, and on May 6 I was on board the
_Manila_, together with 490 other prisoners of war, on our way to India.
The burghers, accustomed to a free, independent life, suffered horribly
from want of space and insufficient and bad food. They could not get
over the idea of having to appear twice daily for the roll-call,
although there was no escape possible. But their sense of humour did not
suffer.
Our burghers acknowledge that travelling is an education in itself, but
they one and all prefer travelling as free men--first or second
class--and they even prefer the high walls and limited space of the
fortress to being a prisoner-of-war passenger on board the steamer.
The long, galvanized-iron bungalows in which we live here have zinc
roofs to guard against the heat of the tropical sun, but at any rate the
wind can blow through the openings on either side. The burghers are kept
alive and in pretty good health by an extremely temperate manner of
life. Once a week they are taken by a strong guard for a walk an hour
beyond the fort. They never get out on parole. As far as we are
concerned, they might even take cannon along with them to guard us, if
only they would take us out oftener.
Here, too, the moral tone of the burghers is kept up by religious
services, and by the great devotion of the Rev. Mr. Viljoen, clergyman
of Reitz, in the Orange Free State, who is a fellow-prisoner of ours.
The gaiety is kept up by sports and by the companionship of many
children. The sorrow is enhanced by the presence of many gray-headed old
men and by sad and heart-breaking tidings. 'Guard, is there any news
this morning?'
We are grieving with the grief of the exile, but we are waiting
patiently, and hoping still that a dove will bring us a branch with our
colours--Orange, green, red, white and blue: peace and independence.