WOUNDED.
During the first days of August, 1901, the enemy seemed more determined
than ever to effect my capture, or sweep me out of the Cape Colony, Very
large forces concentrated on my commando, and pressed us so hard that
our only safety lay in retreating to the Orange Free State. So hot was
the pursuit that for forty-eight hours our horses were not once
off-saddled.
On the 14th we arrived on the banks of the Orange River, near to
Venterstad. We found the drift guarded by a small garrison of Hottentots
that offered slight resistance. After a short skirmish they surrendered,
and we waded safely through the stream. We were again on Free State
soil, in our native land, where we knew almost every inch of the
country.
Fording the river brought us no immediate relief; it rather increased
our dangers. For we were now between two railway lines, each strongly
guarded by blockhouses, while the space between the two lines was so
confined and limited, that (with columns at our rear) we could not
venture to delay there a day or two. So we had to cross one of these
lines the same night. We decided upon the Springfontein-Bethulie line
and thither directed our steps.
At about 8 A.M. we came in sight of the line, at a point six miles from
Springfontein Junction. The sun had already risen. It was a bright
morning, but our prospects were dark and ominous. We were confronted by
a line studded with blockhouses and fenced in on both sides, while two
armoured trains were belching forth clouds of steam and smoke in the
distance. Behind us, and not far to our rear, the British columns were
drawing nearer. We could but choose between two alternatives--surrender,
or cut the wire at any cost. The former we could hardly give a thought;
the latter must be done, and was successfully executed.
Our first attempt failed. The burghers, who had no cover, retreated when
fire was opened upon them from the blockhouses. We fell back to a small
hill not far from the line, and there we made up our minds that we
_shall_ cross. Commandant Louis Wessels--certainly one of the most
intrepid and fearless officers of the whole Boer Army--made direct for
the two railway gates, near which a blockhouse had been erected. These
gates he opened, so that the burghers could proceed without any
obstruction. Then in the face of blockhouses on every side, guards and
armoured trains, we passed over the line. We were exposed to a shower of
bullets, and to a terrific pom-pom fire, from the armoured train, but,
to our amazement, without any effect. But for a few horses shot down, we
would have achieved our object without any losses. The men marvelled and
said Providence had protected them; the enemy probably attributed it to
ill-luck and bad shooting. Both may be correct.
While passing over the line one of the men, accidentally or out of
fright, had dropped and left his gun behind. He was ordered back, and
had to pick it up under a storm of bullets. We could not afford to leave
rifles behind. This was my first experience in crossing the British
lines in daytime. Some time later I was to have a similar experience,
which, as far as my person was concerned, proved less successful,
indeed, almost fatal.
In regard to the blockhouse system, we need only make these general
remarks. The blockhouses along the railway and fighting lines of the
British, as well as in and round garrisoned places, played a most
prominent part in bringing the war to an end. It was at all times
difficult and dangerous to attack them; and to force their occupants to
surrender involved greater loss of life on our part than we could
prudently face. The only way we could destroy them was to approach them
as near as possible during the night, and locate a dynamite bomb on or
near them. In this way some of them have been blown up. It seems a
barbarous process, but is not war, at its very best, barbarous, brutal,
and unbefitting civilized nations?
As a means of capturing the burghers, they were a failure. Our
commandoes, when driven against them, always had sufficient pluck and
courage to cut the wires between them, and so they crossed the lines at
almost any point they pleased. That we _have_ crossed and recrossed them
frequently is proof enough that they were, in this respect, not a
success. The barbed wire fences, however complicated, were easily cut.
As a means of capturing the women and children, and especially the
cattle, sheep and horses, they served the purpose well. It was almost
impossible to drive a flock of sheep or a herd of cattle, not to mention
horses, over these lines during the day. The women with the old and aged
would retreat with the cattle and sheep until they came in touch with
the blockhouses, and were then often captured, one and all.
If it had not been for these little shanties all over the two republics,
it would have taken the British forces double if not treble the time to
have so thoroughly exhausted the late republics of food supplies. When
the republics were cut up into so many small sections it became
impossible to protect our foodstuffs.
From the railway line we went to Rouxville district, where we enjoyed a
rest of ten days. But on the 1st of September the enemy came in large
numbers and till the 22nd of October harassed us almost daily.
As I was anxious to return to the commandoes I left behind in the Cape
Colony, I thought it feasible to cross the fighting line, and take my
commando to Ladybrand district, where the enemy would probably leave us
unmolested for a while, and where the veldt provided ample food for our
horses. Thither we directed our steps, and for a month we saw no signs
of the British.
On the 23rd of November we were again south of the
Bloemfontein-Ladybrand fighting line, and on our way to the Cape
Colony. My first intention was to ford the Orange River near Aliwal
North, but I soon realised that we would be incurring too great a risk
in trying to cross the river there, for about twenty or twenty-five
columns were then sweeping the southern districts of the Orange Free
State. Now if the river was in flood these columns could press us
against it, and we would then be in an awful predicament. So I resolved
to cut the wire of the main line near Springfontein Junction, and from
there march in the direction of Zanddrift, west of Philippolis.
Before that could be accomplished we had to beat our track through the
columns already mentioned. And what a hearty reception they gave us! In
one day we had to pass no fewer than eleven of these. And they _did_
lift us up--so much so that we scarcely lighted on the ground. Even now
I wonder how we contrived to escape these columns. We were fortunately
provided with a number of picked horses, to which we must largely
ascribe our salvation.
In what a dreadful state we found the country east of the lines! It
resembled more a howling wilderness, a haunt of wild beasts, than an
habitation of human beings. It was cleared of all stock; no living
thing, and not a single burgher of other commandoes came in view. So
thoroughly was the country cleared of all necessaries of life, that for
six days we had to subsist on corn, coffee, and honey found in the
mountains, for the bee-hives at the farms were all destroyed. On the 7th
day, having cut the wire near Springfontein, we found large numbers of
springbucks in Fauresmith district, and though our supply of ammunition
was very limited, we could still afford to spare as many cartridges as
would provide sufficient food for men reduced to starvation's point.
On the 15th of December we arrived at the river, and were ready to
intrude once more upon British territory. During the day the river was
carefully reconnoitred, so as to ascertain the best place to ford it. At
nightfall we headed for it, and at 9 P.M. the commando was on its banks.
In deep silence lest the guards woke up on the other side, and shielded
by the wings of darkness, we began to ford the stream. Heavy rains had
fallen higher up the river, in consequence of which the stream was so
swollen that our horses had to swim about 150 yards. The men who could
not swim had to rely exclusively on their horses, and clung to these for
all life was worth. It was a very dark night, and as we only spoke in
whispers, we succeeded in crossing the river, unobserved by the
sentinels or guards, purposely stationed there to prevent our entering
the Cape Colony. We were wet to the skin, six of the men were without
clothes, some lost their horses, and others their rifles and bandoliers,
but none their lives. We were indeed glad that we had attained our
object. But we did not know what was in store for us.
At dawn we left the river, and moving southwards we soon encountered the
enemy not far from the river. From early in the morning till late in the
afternoon we were engaged by the enemy. At sunset we could off-saddle
and rest our tired horses for a short while, and a hasty meal was
prepared.
At dusk we mounted again, and rode till 11.30 that evening, to get some
fodder. We arrived at a farm at midnight, but unfortunately it was
already occupied by the enemy. We had no sooner fastened our horses and
were lying down to rest, when the enemy began firing at us. We resaddled
at once, and left the farm as quickly and quietly as possible. One of
the burghers was wounded in the arm, the rest came out unhurt.
We now went in search of another farm, for it was a necessity that our
horses should get some fodder. The night was very dark, and, being
unacquainted with that part of the country, we began wandering, and we
_did_ wander until the guide and most of the men were asleep on their
horses--wandered till we had described a circle and found ourselves,
after a three hours' ride, almost at the very farm we had left that
night. If it had not been for the flickering lights of the enemy's
camp-fires, we should not have known where we were, and certainly would
have been quite close to them the next morning. When we saw these
lights, hardly three miles away, _then_ we woke up.
I then took the lead, and brought the commando to the farm we were in
search of.
At sunrise we arrived there, off-saddled, and gave our horses fodder.
The pickets were put out, and breakfast was prepared. But, alas! before
we could eat, the enemy was upon us, and our intended feast was
converted into a prolonged fast. So near was the foe, and so rapidly did
they advance, that we had scarcely time to saddle and seize the nearest
ridges. If it had not been for the marvellous celerity of the Boer, many
of the men would have been captured at that farm.
This was the 16th of December, 1901. The day I never shall forget in my
life's history, and in the history of the Anglo-Boer War. The sun rose
in splendour that morning, casting his rays upon me--a man in the prime
of life, full of energy and martial ambition. At eventide the scene was
changed! Weary, wounded and bleeding on a lonely plain, shrouded in
darkness, I lay, no more the man of the day, or of bygone days, but weak
and helpless as a babe.
Though I had taken part in many hot engagements, both as burgher and
commander, and had been in many tight corners, yet I do not recollect a
day in which we were so brought to bay, when we were so hard pressed as
that day. Early in the morning it was evident that the enemy had but one
design that day, and that was to force me to surrender. My commando was
about eighty strong. On my flanks were continually two British columns,
whilst a third one was following up at my rear. With such a small number
of men at my disposal, and three columns to oppose, it was next to
impossible to offer successful resistance. We had hardly taken up a
position when the flanking columns would come round, and we had either
to abandon the position or allow ourselves to be shut in. Thus we were
compelled to retreat from one to another position, under the rays of a
December sun, which seemed to set everything on fire, through a country
so parched and dry that one hardly found a drop of water to quench one's
thirst, and that from early morn till sunset without a morsel of food!
That was enough to break down the strongest man.
A little before sunset the ominous Cape Railway line stared us in the
face. We were again precisely in the same plight as on the 15th of
August, when we had to cut the wire near Springfontein Junction, only
with this difference--that the danger was much more imminent, the enemy
forming a semi-circle at my back, and before me was a line more strongly
fenced and better guarded than the first. But happily the armoured train
was not on the scene. As we were so successful in our first undertaking,
we determined to pass the enemy's line again in daylight. In fine, we
had to cut the wire or surrender. The latter was more repulsive than the
former.
As my commando was now very near the line, there was not a moment to
lose. The enemy was advancing swiftly, and the armoured train might
appear at any time. Commandant Louis Wessels, Veldt Cornet Fraser,
Landman and myself proceeded with the utmost speed ahead of the commando
to cut the wire, in order that the progress of the commando should not
be impeded in the least.
As we approached the line a sharp cross-fire from the blockhouses was
directed against us; but we all reached the fence safely and began
cutting the wire as quickly as possible.
The enemy, knowing only too well who were trying to cut the wire, poured
volley after volley upon us. The bullets seemed to strike everywhere and
everything but ourselves. Let the reader imagine himself exposed to such
a fire, between two forts about 800 yards apart on a level track of
ground, and forming there in the centre a target for rifles, and he will
realise, to some extent, our situation at that moment. But this was not
all. To intensify our peril we met with thick steel wire which the
scissors refused to cut. We were delayed; the whole commando arrived,
and was checked by this wire.
What an embarrassment! I ordered the men to spread, dismount, and fire
at the blockhouses until we had done the cutting. This was promptly
done. Having, been exposed to the enemy's fire for some minutes, we
succeeded at last in cutting that wire also. I then signalled the men
to pass. And once more the incredible occurred. On a plain between
blockhouses 800 yards apart, exposed to an incessant cross-fire, all the
burghers passed the line, in broad daylight, without receiving so much
as a scratch. Some horses were shot down, others were wounded, but the
men crossed safely. Some distance from the line Lieutenant Bolding was
wounded mortally.
I waited at the line till all, with the exception of eight or ten whose
horses had given in, were over and then followed the commando. But
looking back once more, I beheld one of my men trudging on foot across
the line. At once I decided to go back and lend him a helping hand. I
rode back, and was again exposed to the same fire from which we had just
escaped. This time there was to be no escape. While returning, one of my
officers--Fraser--who saw me going back, came to volunteer his services.
He would not have me exposed to the enemy's fire, and urged me to go
back immediately--he would see to the burgher.
Accepting his generous offer, I rode back. But no sooner had I turned my
horse, than I felt a shock. In the twinkling of an eye a bullet had
passed through the muscles of my left arm and through my lungs, missing
the heart by a mere hair-breadth. It happened all so suddenly that for
the first few seconds I hardly knew that I was wounded. I remained in
the saddle for a time, until some of the men could attend to me. Gently
they took me from my horse, placed me in a blanket, and carried me along
to a safe spot.
It was now eventide, the shadows were deepening, and darkness was hiding
us from the vision of the foe. At first I was determined to accompany
the commando some distance from the line to a place where I could safely
remain till recovered. I, however, soon realised the serious nature of
the wound, and that if it were not well attended to, mortification was
sure to set in, and that would cost me my life. The men too considered
it absolutely impossible for me to accompany them any longer, and deemed
it advisable that I should be sent into the British hospital for medical
treatment.
And then came the _parting_ moment, the moment when I had to bid adieu
to the men whom I had led, and with whom I had fought against our common
foe for so long a time. In the life of every man there comes a day, an
hour, or even a moment, which he never can forget. That parting moment,
reader, was one in my life I never shall forget. My officers, adjutants,
secretary, and some other burghers gathered round me for the last time
as I sat on the ground supported by one of them. As they bade me
farewell--yea, perhaps for ever--the tear-drops sparkled in their eyes,
and gushed down their cheeks. Yes, we all did weep and shed tears of
deep sorrow--tears not such as "angels weep," but such as men can weep
who love one another, and had fought in one common cause.
I could not speak to the men as I would, for I was too weak. Still I
wished them God-speed for the future, and exhorted them to be very
courageous and to do their duty faithfully, as befits men, to the last.
I told them my work was done. I had given my blood, and might be called
upon to give my life for my country. If so, I hope to be prepared to
bring that offering too. More I could not do. My secretary then knelt
and commended me in prayer to the care and protection of our gracious
God and Father.... Then we parted.
My war career had ended. No more fighting, no more retreating, no more
roaming over the veldt, by day and night, exposed to blasting summer
winds or chilling winter frosts. For two years and two months I had seen
active service. During that time I had tried to acquit myself
conscientiously of my duties as a man. No sacrifice was too great, and
no obstacle appeared insuperable for the cause in which I was engaged.
Looking back upon the past I observe how often I have fallen short and
failed--failed as a burgher and as a leader. And though I do not wish
for another war, I believe I should try to do better were I to live
through it again.
Two of my adjutants--Pieter Hugo and Landman--had remained with me. One
of them instantly went to the nearest railway station, about three miles
off, to call for an ambulance. Till 1 A.M. I lay bleeding in the veldt.
Then the British ambulance arrived. When the doctor saw me he had very
little hope that I would recover. As I was too weak to be removed by
waggon, I was put on a stretcher and carried to a small field hospital,
not far from the spot where I was wounded.
How soon I knew that I was no more a free man! First of all I was
stripped of all my belongings, including watch, chain, and money, etc.
At my urgent request the watch and chain and also a certain amount of my
money were restored to me.
The following morning an ambulance train took me to Naauwpoort Junction.
On the way I had to part with my blanket. And one of the nurses actually
wanted my ring, saying that I might as well give it to her, as it would
be taken from me. This I refused to part with, remarking that I didn't
believe any one would act so shamefully as to rob me of my ring. In this
I was correct.
Arrived at Naauwpoort, I was carried to the hospital, where I was laid
up for three weeks. A screen was posted before my bed, and at my feet
stood a sentinel with fixed bayonet. I was to be completely isolated
from the rest of mankind. Imagine my feelings at having this functionary
at my feet, watching over me and staring in my face day and night. It
was enough to drive me mad. When I could endure it no longer I entreated
one of the sisters to offer my guard a seat, somewhere out of my view,
for his penetrating and unbroken gaze was putting too great a strain on
my already shattered nerves. Surely there was no chance whatsoever for
me to escape, for I could hardly move myself. Besides, the hospital was
so well fenced in and strongly guarded, that all escape was impossible.
My request was partly granted; but I was forbidden to speak to any one,
except to the nurses and the doctor. Neither was any one allowed to
address me. And so the time dragged on heavily and wearily. The first
few days I suffered intensely, gradually the pain decreased, and I
became stronger.
After I had spent three weeks in the hospital I was ordered to Graaff
Reinet. I rose, and dressed with the assistance of the nurses. To my
astonishment six khakis entered my room. One of these had a pair of
handcuffs. To my query as to what his intentions were he replied: "You
must be handcuffed." "Well, and where do you want to put them on?" I
asked him, for my wounded arm was still supported by a sling. "I must
put them on somewhere," he replied bluntly. So I suggested that I would
lie down on the stretcher and have them fastened to my feet. I was
beginning to lose my temper, and expressed myself in somewhat forcible
language. Fortunately an officer then appeared on the scene with whom I
remonstrated about the treatment I was being subjected to. The officer,
shrugging his shoulders, said: "'Tis orders, and they must be executed."
It seemed such a disgraceful action that I could not help remarking:
"That is why the Boers will not surrender. If wounded officers,
entrusted to your care, are treated thus, what must the private expect?"
At last I was allowed to go--unhandcuffed.
Placed in an armoured truck, I was taken to Graaff Reinet Gaol. My
experiences there shall be related in the next chapter. Had I suffered
much up to this time, greater suffering and more anxious moments were
awaiting me.
Before leaving this subject I would sincerely thank the doctors and
sisters, who evinced such great interest and attended so well to my case
while laid up in the Naauwpoort Hospital.