WAR INCIDENTS.
Notwithstanding the horror and depression which must necessarily keep
step with the campaigner, death staring him in the face throughout the
campaign, yet the burgher endeavoured to show a cheerful countenance. In
this he succeeded to a surprising degree. It is a characteristic of the
Boer that he can meet frowning fortune with a smile or at least a shrug
of the shoulders. He found that his best policy was to forget the
reverse of yesterday. Flying to-day before the enemy, to-morrow he will
rally, and charge that same foe with almost irresistible determination.
In this, the last chapter, we want to dwell not on the tragic aspects of
the war, but on its lighter side. Gradually we learnt to be more
conscious of the amusing than of the sad scenes of the battlefield.
Months of fighting, if they had hardened our natures, had yet left us
the power of laughter.
The South African War was rich in incidents that tended to lighten our
burdens. Hardly a day passed by without something happening, either on
the battlefield or in the camp, which caused us amusement. The burghers,
in spite of looks and behaviour, had a keen sense of humour. Even when
we were so hotly pressed that there was often no pause made for a meal,
a joke in the saddle was relished in the place of food. In little
groups, too, round the camp fires we would beguile the long evenings of
winter nights by relating our personal adventures. We will record a few
of these, acquired from personal experience or overheard at such
gatherings.
Moving in the Reddersburg district, we camped for a night at a dam which
contained a small quantity of water. The next morning the burghers,
discovering that there were fish in the pool, but having no
fishing-hooks, undressed and began to convert the water into a muddy
mass, thus compelling the fish to come to the surface for air. While
still engaged in this impromptu fishing, with bodies mud-covered from
top to toe, they heard the cry "Opzaal! opzaal! Khakis near by." So near
was the enemy that they could not afford to lose a minute. As there was
neither clean water nor time to wash off the mud, they were obliged to
jump into their clothes, besmeared as they were with mud. It was an
amusing sight to see them running to their clothes, black as negroes,
and, regardless of the mud, dressing as quickly as they could. Some of
them had a very narrow escape, and not before sunset could they take
another bath.
The destruction of the railway-line afforded us much fun. There were
burghers who dreaded this kind of work much more than actual fighting.
They would rather get into the firing-line than go to the railway-line.
They feared nothing so much as to handle a charge of dynamite, by which
the destruction was usually accomplished. To prevent any accidents, a
whistle was blown as a signal to apply the lights to all the fuses at
once, so that the men could all withdraw to a safe distance before the
explosion took place. On one occasion a burgher, intentionally or out of
fright, lit his fuse while the others were still engaged depositing
their charges under the rails. The surprise of the rest on seeing the
fuse alight took the form of helter-skeltering away, some rushing
against the railway fence, others almost breaking their necks over
ant-heaps, while some only got away a few yards before the explosion
took place. Fortunately none were injured, and when all was over they
laughed heartily over their own disorderly retreat.
After we had blown up the line we went to a farm about three miles away.
As we halted in front of the door, the farmer's wife--her husband had
been deported--came out. The old lady appeared very agitated; she begged
us kindly to leave as soon as possible. It seemed she was entertaining
three English soldiers as guests that night, and was anxious that we
should not disturb their slumbers, which action would get her into
trouble. "Oh, do go," she said, "for if you disturb these sleeping
guests, I also will be prosecuted and sent to India." Poor soul! She was
doing her best to protect her visitors, not because she cared so much
for them, but for fear of the consequences should we lay hands on them.
We could not, however, listen to her plea. We did not want Tommy
himself, but only his rifle and ammunition. Hence we went to their room
and found them sharing one bed. It was midnight and so they did not
expect us at all. Imagine their feelings on realizing that armed Boers
surrounded their bed! Their complete helplessness, as they lay undressed
and unarmed, caused the burghers to indulge in hearty laughter. To
silence their fears we assured them that they need not dread any evil,
we would soon dismiss them.
Our military councils were frequently occasions of humour--a grim humour
which could only appeal to the Boer, made grim by the treachery of
fellow-Dutchmen.
At the beginning of the war some, especially the uninitiated, dreaded
nothing more than a war council. To such it was a body of men invested
with unlimited power, a council that could pronounce sentence of death
on whomsoever they wished. To appear before this august assembly meant
almost certain death. Now sometimes it meant that, but more often not.
For one reason or another prisoners were for the time being brought in
under a wrong impression of the character of the assembly. Such was the
case with two farmers in the district of Trompsburg, Orange River
Colony. They had been arrested on a charge of sending reports to the
enemy. Terror-stricken, they appeared before the war council, there to
render an account of their deeds. Before their trial began, the
president of the council, in addressing the other officers, assured them
that whatever sentence they should consider just would be carried out by
him. If sentence of death should be passed, he would not hesitate to
take his rifle and put an end to the lives of the accused. "We must," he
said, "put a stop to these treasonable acts." The poor prisoners
trembled from head to foot. No mercy! On being examined, they
acknowledged that they had forwarded treasonable reports to the enemy,
and began to plead for mercy. One of them asked us to bear in mind that
he was a poor man, and had a wife and a large family that would be left
destitute. Pretending to be quite in earnest, we assured him that we
were decided to take nothing into consideration, and would mete out
strict justice. They were then removed so that the court could decide on
their punishment. After a few minutes' consultation they were called in,
and asked to subscribe their names to a statement which ran as
follows:--
We, the undersigned, do hereby declare, that, as burghers of the
Orange Free State, we had no right to send reports to the British,
and, in doing so, we have committed High Treason.
When they had signed the paper one of the officers remarked that we must
have such a declaration signed by the accused to justify our actions
with regard to them before the Government. Another officer asked the
president whether the prisoners would be allowed to take leave of their
families. To which the president abruptly replied: "No; such characters
do not deserve any privileges." They were left under the awful
impression for two hours that both would be shot, and then released with
a warning to forward no reports to the enemy. Their anxiety must have
been intense; their joy on being acquitted no less.
Non-combatants frequently found themselves in an uneasy and perplexing
position. It was sometimes most difficult to differentiate between Boer
and Briton, especially in the night. The poor farmer was often at his
wits' end to know whom he was addressing, the more so when the British
ranks were swelled by Dutch colonists and national scouts. The
non-combatant farmer found it extremely difficult to steer a course
inoffensive to either side. He was between two fires, for when suspected
of disloyalty, either a Dutch or English trap might be laid for him. Not
a few were caught in such snares. Others were more careful. If they did
not know you personally, it was of no avail to tell them that you
belonged to such and such a commando or column. They simply professed to
know nothing. "I don't know," was the answer to every question. They
were, of course, on the safe side. But many committed themselves, if not
in deeds, then in words. To cite a few cases:--
One of our officers, Captain Pretorius, dismounted one evening at the
farm of a Mr. B. in the district of Bethulie. The farmer, hearing a tap
at the door, went and opened it. Pretorius, who posed as an English
officer, asked Mr. B., "Where are the Boers?" The latter, pointing to
certain ridges in the distance, said in rather broken English, "Do you
see those kopjes yonder? They are full of Boers." But asked at the same
time, "Do tell me, are you really an Englishman? I must be clear on this
point before I can speak to you. There must be no mistake." On being
assured by Pretorius and his party that they were not Boers and did not
belong to the Boer forces, he told them very confidently all, and
perhaps more than they wanted to know, for he began to express himself
very strongly against the so-called marauding bands of Boers still
roaming at large. He promised the supposed English officer that, as soon
as possible, he would report the Boers; he would, he said, have done so
already had the opportunity come his way. Just think how confused and
embarrassed Mr. B. was when the English officer suddenly changed into a
Boer, lifted his gun and said in his most harsh tone, "I feel inclined
to send a bullet through your brains. Are you not ashamed to slander
your own people in this way? It is because we have such Africanders as
you in our midst that we suffer so much." This revelation proved almost
too much for the farmer, who was of a timid and nervous disposition. The
Boers left his farm the following day for regions so distant that it was
impossible to trap him again. Once was enough for him.
The next victim resided in the same district. Commandant Joubert, having
crossed the Bethulie-Springfontein line, touched at the farm of a
certain Mr. X. Joubert, accompanied by a burgher, went to wake up Mr. X.
They knocked loudly at the door; knocks failing, they were followed by
a kick. But there was no response. Inside it was as still as the grave.
Thinking that Mr. X. was out, the Commandant went to his brother's room,
where he learnt that Mr. X. was in, sure enough. When Joubert heard this
he went back to his room, tapped loudly once more, and then said, "Bring
the dynamite, and let us blow up the show," while the other burgher
said, "Never mind the dynamite, let us fire through the door." On
hearing of dynamite and firing through the door, the occupant could
remain silent no longer. He jumped up and cried out, "Wait, wait--don't
fire! I am coming." Peeping out at the door, he asked with tremulous
voice, "What do you want?" "Come out," said the Commandant; "I want to
see you on important business." "The sooner you come the better for
you," added the burgher, who happened to be related to Mr. X. This
remark, however, spoiled the rest of the game, for Mr. X. recognised the
voice of his relative, and catching at the same time a glimpse of his
face in the bright moonlight, he rushed out and flung his arms around
one who had not killed his relative's affection by his joke.
The following incident well illustrates the self-possession and presence
of mind sometimes displayed by our opponents. On a certain day two Boer
scouts were charged by two of their own men. The scouts, observing that
the two burghers mistook them for enemies, simply dismounted and waited
for them. While the two Boers came tearing up to their own scouts, two
of the enemy's scouts who were not far off, observing these two Boers,
took them in their turn for British, and thinking to render them some
assistance, likewise charged the Boer scouts. When they reached the Boer
scouts the two burghers had already captured (?) the latter, and had
dismounted. Our friends at once realized their awkward position. They
were in the presence of four Boers. Escape was out of the question,
unless they could get round these Boers in some way or other. As both of
them could talk Dutch, being Colonials, the happy idea struck them at
once to try to pose as burghers, for there were several commandoes in
that district, and it was just possible that these Boers, in whose hands
they now were, would take their word and let them off. One of them,
therefore, on reaching the burghers, very ingeniously remarked, "Well,
you know, we actually took you for _khakis_." The other one was not slow
to offer the burghers some fruit which he had in his pocket. And so they
began talking to one another in a most familiar way. One of the Boers, a
certain Mr. Bresler, suspected these two unknown friends, and while the
other three were conversing with them as they sat on their horses, he
(Bresler) kept his eyes on them, and watched their every movement. At
length Bresler said, "Well, you had better go to your commando, or
dismount your tired horses." Only too glad to get away they replied, "We
are going; good-bye," and off they rode. "Do you know these fellows?"
Bresler asked his comrades, as they were leaving them. "No," was the
reply. "Well," said Bresler, "to be sure, they are British scouts." He
called them back and asked them to which commando they belonged.
"Potgieter's" was the answer. As there was no such commandant, they were
immediately arrested. Had Bresler not been present the probability is
that they would have captured the three burghers, for, as they told him,
they simply waited for an opportunity to disarm them, but they saw that
Bresler was watching them all the time and so could not venture to lift
their rifles.
Sport of the most dangerous nature was sometimes indulged in. Certain
Boer officers, and also privates, would risk their lives to have some
amusement. Commandant W. Fouché was one of those who ventured most.
Naturally brave and sometimes even reckless, he would step in almost
anywhere. In the district of Willowmore, Cape Colony, he one evening
entered a house where two of the enemy's scouts were comfortably seated
by the side of two young ladies. He stepped into the room, greeted all,
and took a seat next to one of the young ladies. To chafe and annoy the
scouts, he placed his hand on the shoulder of one of the young ladies
and pretended to kiss her. This act of his was enough to set one of the
Englishmen on fire. "I shall not allow you," he said, "to touch the
lady. You have no right to do it." Fouché then desisted; he withdrew
his arm, and asked the young lady for some food, as he was very hungry.
His friend calmed down, and they began to converse. By chance one of the
scouts touched his pocket and noticed that there was something strange
in it. "What is that hard thing in your pocket?" he queried. Fouché
replied, "Oh, it is my pipe." "Your pipe is very large indeed," rejoined
the scout. (This pipe was nothing else than a revolver.)
To irritate his unknown friends, Fouché began again to trifle with one
of the ladies. This time the scout lost self-control; he rose, and
taking his chair with both hands, brought it down upon Fouché with all
his might, evidently with the intention of shattering the brains of the
latter. Fouché smartly parried the blow, and the next instant the
striker was a wounded man, and his comrade a prisoner.
In the district of Rouxville the same officer had a similar experience.
There, one evening, he came across three of the enemy--one a Dutch
colonist, the other two Britons--off-saddled at a farm. As they did not
expect any Boers, their rifles were carelessly left outside the house.
Fouché was again the one to enter. Having disguised himself so as to
create no suspicion, he boldly walked in and shook hands with the party.
The Colonial, in a domineering tone, asked him the object of his visit.
"Come to see my young lady," was the reply. "Have you permission to
leave your farm?" "No," said Fouché. "We arrest you at once," said the
Colonial, "and will take you to Rouxville gaol. You shall have to walk
all the way [some 24 miles], and that will teach you not to go about
without a pass at this time of the night." "Well," said Fouché, "I
really did not know that I must have a pass to come and see my young
lady, and if you arrest me you must kindly allow me to get a horse at
home, for certainly I cannot walk all this distance." "Nonsense,"
replied the Colonial; "there is no time to go home now."
As Fouché was supplicating for grace the other two went to fetch their
horses. They were cordially received by the burghers outside. The
Colonial in the meantime questioned Fouché as to the whereabouts of the
Boers. The prisoner informed him that the notorious Commandant Fouché
was again in that district. "Why," asked Fouché, "don't you capture this
fellow with his raiding bands? They are the plague of the district. You
should protect us." The Colonial: "Just a few days longer and he will be
no more in the land of the living." At the same time he began to abuse
him, without being conscious in the least that he was at the very moment
speaking to that officer himself.
After some more talk he took Fouché by the arm and said, "Come along, we
must be off; you are my prisoner." "What," rejoined the latter--"your
prisoner! Don't you believe it. You are mine." So saying he took a
revolver out of his pocket and pointed it at the over-confident
Colonial, who thereupon looked several inches smaller.
* * * * *
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