BETHLEHEM.
_July 2._--Reveillé 5 A.M. Harnessed up, and afterwards marched out
and joined a column of troops under General Paget. We have with us
some Yorkshire Light Infantry, Munster Fusiliers, Yeomanry, Bushmen,
and the 38th Field Battery. Where we are going we don't know, but I
suppose after De Wet.[A]
[Footnote A: Without knowing it at the time, we were joining in
General Hunter's big enveloping movement, by which all the scattered
commandos in this part of the Free State were to be driven into the
mountains on the Basuto border and there surrounded. Paget's brigade
(the 20th) was part of the cordon, which was gradually drawn closer by
the concentric marches of columns under him, and General Clements,
Rundle, Boyes, Bruce Hamilton, and Hunter himself. The climax was the
surrender of about 5000 Boers under Prinsloo at Fouriesberg on July
29, a success much impaired by the escape of De Wet from the
fast-closing trap. For the sake of clearness I append this note; but I
leave my diary as I wrote it, when our knowledge of events rarely went
beyond a foggy speculation.]
_(8.30 A.M.)_--We have marched for about two hours to the top of a
range of hills which surrounds the town; there is firing on the right
and left, and the Infantry are advancing in extended order. Our right
section has just gone into action. A big drove of wild-looking Boer
ponies has come stampeding up to the column with some of our mounted
men vainly trying to corner them.
_(1.30 P.M.)_--The battle is, as usual, unintelligible to the humble
unit, but the force is advancing slowly, the Yorkshire Light Infantry
and Munster Fusiliers on either hand of us. Our section is in action
now. We have just taken our waggon to the firing line and brought back
the team. The corporal's horse stepped in a hole just as we were
reaching the guns and turned a complete somersault. He is all right,
but his was our second mishap, as the near wheeler fell earlier in the
day, and the driver was dragged some yards before we could stop. The
ground is very dangerous, full of holes, some of them deep and
half-covered with grass. Another driver is up, but the former is only
a bit shaken, I think. Our section has silenced a Boer gun in three
shots, at 4200 yards, a good bit of work, and a credit to Lieutenant
Bailey as a judge of range. The right section also cleared the kopje
they fired at, but had a narrow escape afterwards, coming suddenly,
when on the move, under the fire of Boer guns, of whose presence they
were ignorant, the shells falling thick but not bursting. Bivouacked
at four on the veldt. The Boers had retired from the line they held. A
long ride to water after unharnessing; nothing much to eat. Williams
and I have taken to ending the day by boiling tea (from tablets) over
the embers of the cook's fire, or on one of our own if we have any
fuel, which is very seldom. How the cooks get their wood is a mystery
to me. The Kaffir drivers always have it, too, though there are no
visible trees. We always seem to sit up late, short though our nights
are. A chilly little group gathers sleepily round the embers, watching
mess-tins full of nondescript concoctions balanced cunningly in the
hot corners, and gossiping of small camp affairs or large strategical
movements of which we know nothing. The brigade camp-fires twinkle
faintly through the gloom. A line of veldt-fire is sure to be glowing
in the distance, looking like the lights of a sea-side town as seen
from the sea. The only sound is of mules shuffling and jingling round
the waggons.
The "cook-house" is still the source of rumours, which are wonderfully
varied. There is much vague talk now of General Clements and a brigade
being connected somehow with our operations. But we know as little of
the game we are playing as pawns on the chessboard. Our tea is strong,
milkless, and sugarless, but I always go to sleep the instant I lie
down, even if I am restless with the cold later.
_July 3._--Reveillé at 4.30. Our section, under Lieutenant Bailey,
started at once for a steep kopje looming dimly about three miles
away. The right section, with the Major and Captain, left us and went
to another one. We had a tough job getting our guns and waggons up.
_(8 A.M.)_--Just opening fire now. A Boer gun is searching the valley
on our left, but they can't see the limbers and waggons.
_(8.30.)_--The Boers seem to have some special dislike to our waggon.
They have just placed two shells, one fifty yards in front of it, and
the other fifty yards behind; one of them burst on impact, the other
didn't. The progress of a shell sounds far off like the hum of a
mosquito, rising as it nears to a hoarse screech, and then "plump." We
mind them very little now. There is great competition for the
fragments, as "curios." It is cold, grey, and sunless today. Last
night there was heavy rain, and our blankets are wet still. It seems
the Boers are firing a Krupp at 7000 yards; our guns are only sighted
up to 5000 yards, but we have managed to reach them by sinking the
trail in the ground, and other devices.
_(12.30 P.M.)_--A long halt here, with nothing doing. The Boer gun has
ceased to fire, and we call it "silenced," possibly with truth, but
the causes of silence are never quite certain. As far as I can make
out, it was on the extreme left of their position, while our main
attack is threatening their centre. It is raining hard, but we have
made a roaring fire of what is the chief fuel in this country, dry
cow-dung, and have made cocoa in our mess-tins, from a tin sent me a
month ago; also soup, out of the scrapings of Maconochie tins.
----. What seemed likely to be a dull day turned out very exciting.
About two a staff officer came up with orders, and we marched down
from our kopje and attacked another one[A] (which I made out to be
their centre), taking up several positions in quick succession. The
Boers had a gun on the kopje, which we dislodged, and the infantry
took the position. (About 2.30 it began to rain again and poured all
the afternoon in cold, slashing torrents.) We finally went up the
kopje ourselves, over a shocking bit of rocky ground near the top,
fired on the retreating Boers from there, and then came down on the
other side. Soon afterwards came an old story. It was about five, and
had cleared up. A staff officer had said that there were no Boers
anywhere near now, and that we were to march on and bivouac. We and
the Munsters and some Yeomanry were marching down a valley, whose
flanks were supposed to have been scouted, the infantry in column of
companies, that is, in close formation, and all in apparent security.
Suddenly a storm of rifle-fire broke out from a ridge on our right
front and showed us we were ambushed. The Munsters were nearest to the
ridge, about 600 yards, I should say. We were a bit further off. I
heard a sort of hoarse murmur go up from the close mass of infantry,
and saw it boil, so to speak, and spread out. Our section checked for
a moment, in a sort of bewilderment (my waggon was close behind our
gun at the time), but the next, and almost without orders, guns were
unlimbered and whisked round, a waggon unhooked, teams trotting away,
and shrapnel bursting over the top of the ridge in quick succession.
All this time the air was full of a sound like the moaning of wind
from the bullets flying across the valley, but strange to say, not a
man of us was hit. Some of them were explosive bullets. The whole
thing was soon over. Our guns peppered their quickest, and it was a
treat to see the shrapnel bursting clean and true along the ridge. The
infantry extended and lay down; some Yeomanry made a flank move, and
that episode was over. It might have been serious, though. If they had
held their fire undiscovered for ten minutes longer we might have been
badly cut up, for we were steadily nearing the spur which they
occupied. It is right to say, though, that our Lieutenant, having
doubts about the safety of the place, had shortly before sent forward
ground-scouts, of whom Williams was one, who would possibly have been
able to warn us in time. Needless to say, it was not our duty to scout
for the column.
[Footnote A: The name of this kopje was Barking Kop, I believe, and we
have since always applied it generally to the fighting on this day.]
It was nearly dark now, a burning farm ahead making a hot glow in the
sky, and we moved off to join the rest of the column with its unwieldy
baggage-train and convoy, and all camped together, after the usual
tedious ride to water horses at a muddy pool. They had had a very hard
day and had done well, but were very tired. On days like this they
often get no water till evening. A feed is ordered when a free
interval seems likely, but the chances are that it is snatched off,
and their bits thrust in again, half-way through. When we got in and
rejoined our right section, all were full of a serious mishap to the
38th Field Battery, with which they had been acting on the left flank.
Both were in action in adjoining fields, when a party of Boers crept
up unseen and got within fifty yards of the 38th guns, shooting down
men and horses. The 38th behaved splendidly, but all their officers
were killed or wounded, a number of gunners, and many horses. Two guns
were for a time in the hands of the Boers, who, I believe, removed the
tangent sights. It appears that the M.I. escort of the Battery, owing,
I suppose, to some misunderstanding, retreated. The situation was
saved by Captain Budworth, of our Battery, who collected and brought
up some mounted infantry, whether Yeomanry or Bushmen I am not clear
about. They beat the Boers off, and our teams helped to take the guns
out of action. We came off all right, with only one gunner slightly
wounded.
I was desperately hungry, and only coffee was issued, but later a
sheep's carcase turned up from somewhere, and I secured a leg, and
Williams some chops, which we promptly laid as they were on one of the
niggers' wood fires and ate in our fingers ravenously. The leg I also
cooked and kept for to-day (I am writing on the morning of the 4th),
and it is hanging on my saddle. I was rather sleepless last night,
owing to cramp from a drenched blanket, and got up about midnight and
walked over to the remains of one of our niggers' fires. Crouching
over the embers I found a bearded figure, which hoarsely denounced me
for coming to its fire. I explained that it was _our_ fire, but that
he was welcome, and settled down to thaw. It turned out to be a
sergeant of the 38th Battery. I asked something, and he began a long
rambling soliloquy about things in general, in a thick voice, with his
beard almost in the fire, scarcely aware of my presence. I can't
reproduce it faithfully, because of the language, but it dealt with
the war, which he thought would end next February, and the difference
between Boer and British methods, and how our cavalry go along, heels
down, toes in, arms close to side, eyes front, all according to
regulation, keeping distance regardless of ground, while the Boer
cares nothing as long as he gets there and does his work. He finished
with the gloomy prophecy that if we didn't join Clements to-morrow we
should never "get out of this." Not knowing who or where Clements was,
I asked him about the affair of that day, and produced a growling
storm of expletives; then he muttered something about the Victoria
Cross and driving a team out of action, asked the way to his lines, to
which I carefully directed him, and drifted off in the opposite
direction.
By the way, this General Clements seems to be a myth, and the talk now
is of Rundle and Ian Hamilton, who are supposed to be getting round De
Wet from other quarters, while we drive him up this way into their
arms. It is said we are going to Bethlehem. I forgot an important
event of the evening in the arrival of a bag of mails, parcels only,
brought by a convoy from Kroonstadt, which has just come in. To my
delight I got one with a shirt and socks (which I at once put on over
the others), cigarettes (a long exhausted luxury), Liebig, precious
for evening soup, and chocolate, almost too good to eat for fear of
getting discontented. We are on half rations of biscuit, which means
three, and a tin of Maconochie each, a supply about enough to whet
your appetite for one meal in a life like this, but it has to last the
day of about seventeen hours. The ration is issued the night before,
to eat as we please, and, of course, there is coffee soon after
reveillé, and tea in the evening. There is a cupful of porridge also
with the coffee, paid for by deduction from our pay, so that one
starts in good fettle. I don't know why the whole column shouldn't get
fresh meat every day, for the country is teeming with cattle, which
are collected and driven along with the column in huge herds. Many of
the farmhouses are smoking ruins, the enemy, after annexation, being
rebels according to law, and not belligerents; but it seems to me that
such a policy is to use a legal fiction for an oppressive end, for it
is quite clear that this part of the Orange River Colony has never
been conquered.[A]
[Footnote A: I leave this as I wrote it, but drivers are not
politicians, and doubtless there were special circumstances, such as
treachery, concealed arms or sniping, to justify what at the best must
be a doubtful policy; for a burnt farm means a desperate farmer.]
_July 4._--_Wednesday._--Up at five after a bitterly cold night, but
there was a long delay before starting. We are rear-guard to-day. Just
before leaving an infantry man shot himself while cleaning his rifle.
There was a little buzz and stir, and then all was quiet again. He was
buried in half an hour.
A dull day's marching. After about ten miles we halted to water horses
and rest. While watering, the Boers sent over a futile shell from a
big gun. On return we unhooked and grazed the horses. Things looked
peaceful, and there was a warm sun, so I ventured to unstrap my
kit-roll and spread my blankets out to dry. They were still wet from
the rain of two nights ago. I had scarcely spread them out when "Hook
in" was shouted, and back they had to go, half-folded, in a perilously
loose bundle. (You can never count on five minutes, but it's worth
trying.) At about 4.30 we and the 38th Battery trotted ahead about a
mile and a half, and began shelling a ridge; but I think it was soon
abandoned, for shortly after we limbered up and camped with the rest
of the brigade, which had followed us. I am "stableman" to-day for
three days. On the march this involves drawing sacks of forage from
the Quartermaster Sergeant in the early morning and late evening, and
serving out the oats to the drivers of the sub-division. It is not so
irksome a duty as in a standing camp, but has its trying moments; for
instance, when drivers are busied with bed-making or cocoa-cooking in
the evening, and are deaf to your shouts of "D drivers, roll up for
your feeds!" a camp-cry which has not half the effect of "Roll up for
your coffee!" or, more electrical still, "Roll up for your rum!"
_July 5._--We were up at 4.30, but as usual had to stand by our horses
for over an hour, freezing our feet in the frosty grass before
starting. Harnessing up with numbed fingers in the dark was a trying
job. My harness sheets were stiff as boards with frozen dew, and I had
to stamp them into shape for packing. I had a warm night, though. My
bed is made thus: I place the two saddles on end, at the right
distance for the length of my body, and facing inwards, that is, with
the seats outwards; I leave the horse-blankets strapped on underneath
them, as there is not much time to re-fold and re-strap them in the
morning, and my head (pillowed on two feed-bags filled overnight for
the early morning feed) goes in the hollow of one saddle, between the
folds of the blanket, and my feet in the hollow of the other. The rest
of each set of harness is heaped behind each saddle, and when the
harness-sheets are spread over each set there is enough for the ends
to lap over and make a roof for the head, and also for the feet. Then
I wrap myself in my two blankets, and if an oatsack is obtainable,
first get my feet into that. My waterproof sheet serves as
counterpane. It is not wanted as a mattress, as no dew falls till the
morning, and the ground is dry at bed-time. After rain, of course, it
has to go beneath one. The great point is to keep your blankets as dry
as you can, for, once wet with dew or rain, they remain wet, since we
both start and arrive in the dark, and thus cannot count on drying
them. It is a good plan before turning in to see that the horses in
the lines near you are securely tied up, as it is vexatious to be
walked on in the night by a heavy artillery horse; also to have all
your kit and belongings exactly where you can lay hands on them in the
dark. At reveillé, which, by the way, takes the shape of a rude shake
from the picket of the night (there is no trumpet used in
campaigning), you shiver out of your nest, the Sergeant-Major's
whistle blows, and you at once feed your horses. Then you pack your
off-saddle, rolling the ground-sheet, blankets, and harness-sheet,
with the muzzles, surcingle-pads, hay-nets, etc., and strapping the
roll on the saddle. Then you harness as fast as you can (generally
helped by a gunner), make up two fresh feeds and tie them up in
nose-bags on the saddle, and put on your belt, haversack,
water-bottle, and other accoutrements. In the middle of this there
will be a cry of "D coffee up!" and you drop everything and run with
the crowd for your life to get that precious fluid, and the porridge,
if there is any. You bolt them in thirty seconds, and run back to
strap your mess-tin on your saddle, put the last touches to your
harness, and hook in the team. Of course we sleep in our cloaks, and
wear them till about eight, when the sun gets strength. Then we seize
a chance to roll them at a halt, and strap them in front of the riding
saddle.
To return to to-day. It has been very inconclusive and unsatisfactory.
We have marched about twelve miles, I think, with some long halts, in
one of which we unhooked and rode to a pool some distance off to water
horses. I have been fearfully sleepy all day. Two guns of the 38th
Battery have joined us, and we march as a six-gun battery under Major
McMicking. They have no officers fit for duty, and our Captain looks
after them. In the evening some shrapnel began bursting on a ridge
ahead, and we went up and fired a bit; but I suppose the Boers
decamped, for we soon after halted for the night. It is said that the
mythical Clements is now one march behind us, our scouts having met
to-day, and that Bethlehem is three miles ahead, strongly held by De
Wet. Other mythical generals are in the air. I am getting used to the
state of blank ignorance in which we live. Perfect sunset in a clear
sky. One of the charms of Africa is the long settled periods of pure
unclouded sky, in which the sun rises and sets with no flaming
splashes of vivid colours, but by gentle, imperceptible gradations of
pure light, waning or waxing. And as for rain, when it is once over it
is thoroughly over (at this season, at any rate). This night the
darkness was soon lit up by a flaming farm. All desperately hungry,
when it was announced that an extra ration of raw meat was to be
served out. If I can't cook it, shall I eat it raw? To-morrow's ration
is a pound of fresh cooked meat, instead of the eternal Maconochie. It
was drawn to-night, and looked so good that I ate half of it at once,
thus yielding to an oft-recurring temptation. Orders for reveillé at
seven. Great joy.
_July 6._--Reveillé was marked by a Boer shell coming over the camp,
followed by others in quick succession, real good bursting shrapnel, a
rare thing for the Boers to possess, but they came from a long range
and burst too high. Nobody took the least notice, and we went on
harnessing and breakfasting as usual. It is strange how soon one gets
a contempt for shells. In about half an hour the firing stopped. We
hooked in, but unhooked again, and rode to water. There is some delay;
waiting for Clements, perhaps. I write this sitting by my horses in a
hot sun, with the water frozen to a solid lump in the bottle at my
back, through the felt cover, and after being under a harness sheet
all the night. Had a jolly talk with some Paddies of the Munster
Fusiliers, about Ireland, etc. They were miserable, "fed up," but
merry; that strange combination one sees so much of out here. They
talked about the revels they would have when they got home, the beef,
bacon, and stout, but chiefly stout. We have already learnt to respect
and admire the infantry of our brigade, and I think the confidence is
mutual. (Starting.)
_(4.30)._--We have had a hard day's marching a long distance out on
the right flank. There is a biggish battle proceeding.
I think Clements's brigade has joined ours, for our front is some
miles in length, with the wavy lines of khaki figures advancing slowly
and steadily, covered by artillery fire. The 38th are with us. We have
been in action several times in successive positions, but the chief
attack seems to be on a steep conical kopje in the centre, behind and
below which lies Bethlehem, I believe. It is just dark, but heavy
rifle-firing is still going on in front. One of our gunners has been
shot in the knee. We camped near our last firing position, but waited
a long time for our transport and its precious freight of cooks and
"dickseys" (camp-kettles). Williams and I ruthlessly chopped down
parts of a very good fence, and made a fire with the wood and a lot of
dry mealy stalks, which burn furiously. Then we and Ramsey cooked our
meat in our mess-tin lids, and made cocoa with water which Ramsey
fetched from some distance. It was a thick brown fluid, and froze
while we were waiting to put it on, but it tasted excellent.
_July 7._--Reveillé at 3.45. We marched out about a mile and waited
for the dawn.
_7 A.M._--At first dawn firing began, and we went into action at once,
as did the whole line of infantry. A tremendous fusillade of shells
and bullets is now being poured upon the position in front, and
chiefly on the central conical kopje. My waggon is halted, waiting to
go up. The sun is just getting strength, warming our numbed feet, and
spiriting away the white frost-mantle that the land always wears at
dawn.
_(3 P.M.)._--Guns, Maxims, and rifles hailed lead into the Boer
trenches for a long time, and then the infantry seized them, and the
Boers retired. The practice of the 38th and our guns seemed to me to
be very good. We have also a five-inch lyddite gun (Clements brought
it), which sent up huge clouds of brown dust where the shell struck.
We have now advanced over very heavy ground to the late Boer position,
halted, and ridden some way to water down a precipitous slope, into a
long, rocky hollow. From this point the country seems to change
entirely to steep, rocky hills and hollows, rising and increasing to
the whole Drakensberg range, which is blue and craggy on the sky-line.
They say the Boers have evacuated Bethlehem with a baggage train three
miles long. I don't know why we are not following them up. Perhaps the
mounted infantry are. Our horses are done up. It was cruel work
spurring and lashing them over heavy ploughed land to-day.
_July 8._--Rest at last. It is Sunday morning, and we are all lying or
sitting about, bathed in warm sunshine, waiting for orders, but it
seems we shan't move to-day. My blankets are all spread out, getting a
much-wanted drying, but what I chiefly want is a wash. I have had
three imperfect ones since leaving Bloemfontein and one shave, and my
boots off for about ten minutes now and then.
_(3 P.M.)._--Nothing on to-day. I have had a wash in a thimbleful of
water, and shaved, and feel another man. They gave us an hour of
stables, but the horses certainly needed it, as they never get groomed
now, and are a shaggy, scraggy-looking lot. I'm glad to say mine are
quite free from galls and sore backs. As one never sees their backs by
daylight, it is interesting to get a good look at them at last. They
are very liable to sore backs (partly owing to the weight of the
military saddle), if there is any carelessness in folding the blanket
beneath the saddle. It has been a real hot day, and yet there was
thick ice on the pool we watered at this morning.
As to yesterday, it appears that De Wet and his army effected a safe
retreat, but our General was pleased with the day's work, and
congratulated us and the 38th. We put one Boer gun at least completely
out of action, and it was captured by the infantry. The infantry lost
but few that day, but rather heavily the day before, especially the
Munsters. Paget is already very popular with us. We trust his
generalship and we like the man, for he seems to be one of us, a
frank, simple soldier, who thinks of every man in his brigade as a
comrade. I understand now what an enormous difference this makes to
men in the ranks. A chance word of praise dropped in our hearing, a
joking remark during a hot fight (repeated affectionately over every
camp-fire at night), any little touch of nature that obliterates rank,
and makes man and general "chums" for the moment; such trifles have an
effect on one's spirits which I could never have believed possible, if
I had not felt their charm. I wonder if officers know it, but it takes
nothing for them to endear themselves to men.
It seems to be beyond doubt that our guns are a success, but their
special ammunition is a source of great difficulty. We have stacks of
it at Bloemfontein, but cannot carry much about with us, and of course
the ammunition column with its fifteen-pounder shells is of no use to
us. We have been short after every action, and have to depend on
precarious waggonfuls, coming by convoy from somewhere on the railway.
They say General Hunter and a division is concentrating here too, and
a large force is visible in the valley, marching up. They are flooding
us with fresh meat to-day, by way of a change. It is said that Paget
has ordered a certain number of sheep and cattle to be slaughtered
daily for the brigade.
_(Later)._--I had scarcely written the above lines when the order came
to harness up at once. We did so, and were soon off; the sections
separated, ours making for a steep hill about three miles away, on
which we were ordered to take post. It was an awkward climb in the
gathering darkness, with drag-ropes on the upper wheels, when moving
along a very steep slope. A final rush of frantic collar work, and we
were on a flat plateau, where we unlimbered the guns, so as to command
the valley, and camped near them. I was on picket duty this night, and
quite enjoyed it, though I had one three-hour spell at a go. It was
warmer than usual, with a bonnie moon in a clear sky, a dozen
veldt-fires reddening in the distance, mysterious mists wreathing
about the valley beneath, and the glowing embers of a good wood-fire
on which to cook myself some Maggi soup.