Monday, October 30th, 1899, is not a date which can be looked back to
with satisfaction by any Briton. In a scrambling and ill-managed action
we had lost our detached left wing almost to a man, while our right had
been hustled with no great loss but with some ignominy into Ladysmith.
Our guns had been outshot, our infantry checked, and our cavalry
paralysed. Eight hundred prisoners may seem no great loss when compared
with a Sedan, or even with an Ulm; but such matters are comparative,
and the force which laid down its arms at Nicholson's Nek is the
largest British force which has surrendered since the days of our great
grandfathers, when the egregious Duke of York commanded in Flanders.
Sir George White was now confronted with the certainty of an investment,
an event for which apparently no preparation had been made, since with
an open railway behind him so many useless mouths had been permitted
to remain in the town. Ladysmith lies in a hollow and is dominated by
a ring of hills, some near and some distant. The near ones were in our
hands, but no attempt had been made in the early days of the war to
fortify and hold Bulwana, Lombard's Kop, and the other positions from
which the town might be shelled. Whether these might or might not have
been successfully held has been much disputed by military men,
the balance of opinion being that Bulwana, at least, which has a
water-supply of its own, might have been retained. This question,
however, was already academic, as the outer hills were in the hands
of the enemy. As it was, the inner line--Caesar's Camp, Wagon Hill,
Rifleman's Post, and round to Helpmakaar Hill--made a perimeter of
fourteen miles, and the difficulty of retaining so extensive a line goes
far to exonerate General White, not only for abandoning the outer hills,
but also for retaining his cavalry in the town.
After the battle of Ladysmith and the retreat of the British, the Boers
in their deliberate but effective fashion set about the investment of
the town, while the British commander accepted the same as inevitable,
content if he could stem and hold back from the colony the threatened
flood of invasion. On Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday the
commandoes gradually closed in upon the south and east, harassed by
some cavalry operations and reconnaissances upon our part, the effect of
which was much exaggerated by the press. On Thursday, November 2nd, the
last train escaped under a brisk fire, the passengers upon the wrong
side of the seats. At 2 P.M. on the same day the telegraph line was cut,
and the lonely town settled herself somberly down to the task of holding
off the exultant Boers until the day--supposed to be imminent--when the
relieving army should appear from among the labyrinth of mountains which
lay to the south of them. Some there were who, knowing both the enemy
and the mountains, felt a cold chill within their hearts as they asked
themselves how an army was to come through, but the greater number, from
General to private, trusted implicitly in the valour of their comrades
and in the luck of the British Army.
One example of that historical luck was ever before their eyes in the
shape of those invaluable naval guns which had arrived so dramatically
at the very crisis of the fight, in time to check the monster on
Pepworth Hill and to cover the retreat of the army. But for them the
besieged must have lain impotent under the muzzles of the huge Creusots.
But in spite of the naive claims put forward by the Boers to some
special Providence--a process which a friendly German critic described
as 'commandeering the Almighty'--it is certain that in a very peculiar
degree, in the early months of this war there came again and again a
happy chance, or a merciful interposition, which saved the British from
disaster. Now in this first week of November, when every hill, north
and south and east and west, flashed and smoked, and the great 96-pound
shells groaned and screamed over the town, it was to the long thin
4.7's and to the hearty bearded men who worked them, that soldiers and
townsfolk looked for help. These guns of Lambton's, supplemented by two
old-fashioned 6.3 howitzers manned by survivors from No. 10 Mountain
Battery, did all that was possible to keep down the fire of the heavy
Boer guns. If they could not save, they could at least hit back,
and punishment is not so bad to bear when one is giving as well as
receiving.
By the end of the first week of November the Boers had established their
circle of fire. On the east of the town, broken by the loops of the Klip
River, is a broad green plain, some miles in extent, which furnished
grazing ground for the horses and cattle of the besieged. Beyond it
rises into a long flat-topped hill the famous Bulwana, upon which lay
one great Creusot and several smaller guns. To the north, on Pepworth
Hill, was another Creusot, and between the two were the Boer batteries
upon Lombard's Kop. The British naval guns were placed upon this side,
for, as the open loop formed by the river lies at this end, it is the
part of the defences which is most liable to assault. From thence all
round the west down to Besters in the south was a continuous series of
hills, each crowned with Boer guns, which, if they could not harm the
distant town, were at least effective in holding the garrison to its
lines. So formidable were these positions that, amid much outspoken
criticism, it has never been suggested that White would have been
justified with a limited garrison in incurring the heavy loss of life
which must have followed an attempt to force them.
The first few days of the siege were clouded by the death of Lieutenant
Egerton of the 'Powerful,' one of the most promising officers in the
Navy. One leg and the other foot were carried off, as he lay upon the
sandbag parapet watching the effect of our fire. 'There's an end of my
cricket,' said the gallant sportsman, and he was carried to the rear
with a cigar between his clenched teeth.
On November 3rd a strong cavalry reconnaissance was pushed down
the Colenso road to ascertain the force which the enemy had in that
direction. Colonel Brocklehurst took with him the 18th and 19th Hussars,
the 5th Lancers and the 5th Dragoon Guards, with the Light Horse and the
Natal Volunteers. Some desultory fighting ensued which achieved no end,
and was chiefly remarkable for the excellent behaviour of the Colonials,
who showed that they were the equals of the Regulars in gallantry and
their superiors in the tactics which such a country requires. The death
of Major Taunton, Captain Knapp, and young Brabant, the son of the
General who did such good service at a later stage of the war, was a
heavy price to pay for the knowledge that the Boers were in considerable
strength to the south.
By the end of this week the town had already settled down to the routine
of the siege. General Joubert, with the chivalry which had always
distinguished him, had permitted the garrison to send out the
non-combatants to a place called Intombi Camp (promptly named
Funkersdorp by the facetious) where they were safe from the shells,
though the burden of their support still fell of course upon the
much-tried commissariat. The hale and male of the townsfolk refused for
the most part to avoid the common danger, and clung tenaciously to their
shot-torn village. Fortunately the river has worn down its banks until
it runs through a deep channel, in the sides of which it was found to be
possible to hollow out caves which were practically bomb-proof. Here
for some months the townsfolk led a troglodytic existence, returning
to their homes upon that much appreciated seventh day of rest which was
granted to them by their Sabbatarian besiegers.
The perimeter of the defence had been divided off so that each
corps might be responsible for its own section. To the south was
the Manchester Regiment upon the hill called Caesar's Camp. Between
Lombard's Kop and the town, on the north-east, were the Devons. To the
north, at what seemed the vulnerable point, were the Rifle Brigade, the
Rifles, and the remains of the 18th Hussars. To the west were the 5th
Lancers, 19th Hussars, and 5th Dragoon Guards. The rest of the force was
encamped round the outskirts of the town.
There appears to have been some idea in the Boer mind that the mere fact
that they held a dominant position over the town would soon necessitate
the surrender of the army. At the end of a week they had realised,
however, just as the British had, that a siege lay before both. Their
fire upon the town was heavy but not deadly, though it became more
effective as the weeks went on. Their practice at a range of five miles
was exceedingly accurate. At the same time their riflemen became more
venturesome, and on Tuesday, November 7th, they made a half-hearted
attack upon the Manchesters' position on the south, which was driven
back without difficulty. On the 9th, however, their attempt was of a
more serious and sustained character. It began with a heavy shell-fire
and with a demonstration of rifle-fire from every side, which had
for its object the prevention of reinforcements for the true point of
danger, which again was Caesar's Camp at the south. It is evident that
the Boers had from the beginning made up their minds that here lay the
key of the position, as the two serious attacks--that of November 9th
and that of January 6th--were directed upon this point.
The Manchesters at Caesar's Camp had been reinforced by the 1st
battalion 60th Rifles, who held the prolongation of the same ridge,
which is called Waggon Hill. With the dawn it was found that the Boer
riflemen were within eight hundred yards, and from then till evening a
constant fire was maintained upon the hill. The Boer, however, save when
the odds are all in his favour, is not, in spite of his considerable
personal bravery, at his best in attack. His racial traditions,
depending upon the necessity for economy of human life, are all opposed
to it. As a consequence two regiments well posted were able to hold them
off all day with a loss which did not exceed thirty killed and wounded,
while the enemy, exposed to the shrapnel of the 42nd battery, as well
as the rifle-fire of the infantry, must have suffered very much more
severely. The result of the action was a well-grounded belief that in
daylight there was very little chance of the Boers being able to carry
the lines. As the date was that of the Prince of Wales's birthday, a
salute of twenty-one shotted naval guns wound up a successful day.
The failure of the attempt upon Ladysmith seems to have convinced the
enemy that a waiting game, in which hunger, shell-fire, and disease were
their allies, would be surer and less expensive than an open assault.
From their distant hilltops they continued to plague the town, while
garrison and citizens sat grimly patient, and learned to endure if not
to enjoy the crash of the 96-pound shells, and the patter of shrapnel
upon their corrugated-iron roofs. The supplies were adequate, and the
besieged were fortunate in the presence of a first-class organiser,
Colonel Ward of Islington fame, who with the assistance of Colonel
Stoneman systematised the collection and issue of all the food, civil
and military, so as to stretch it to its utmost. With rain overhead and
mud underfoot, chafing at their own idleness and humiliated by their
own position, the soldiers waited through the weary weeks for the relief
which never came. On some days there was more shell-fire, on some less;
on some there was sniping, on some none; on some they sent a little
feeler of cavalry and guns out of the town, on most they lay still--such
were the ups and downs of life in Ladysmith. The inevitable siege
paper, 'The Ladysmith Lyre,' appeared, and did something to relieve the
monotony by the exasperation of its jokes. Night, morning, and noon the
shells rained upon the town until the most timid learned fatalism if not
bravery. The crash of the percussion, and the strange musical tang of
the shrapnel sounded ever in their ears. With their glasses the garrison
could see the gay frocks and parasols of the Boer ladies who had come
down by train to see the torture of the doomed town.
The Boers were sufficiently numerous, aided by their strong positions
and excellent artillery, to mask the Ladysmith force and to sweep on at
once to the conquest of Natal. Had they done so it is hard to see what
could have prevented them from riding their horses down to salt water.
A few odds and ends, half battalions and local volunteers, stood between
them and Durban. But here, as on the Orange River, a singular paralysis
seems to have struck them. When the road lay clear before them the first
transports of the army corps were hardly past St. Vincent, but before
they had made up their mind to take that road the harbour of Durban
was packed with our shipping and ten thousand men had thrown themselves
across their path.
For a moment we may leave the fortunes of Ladysmith to follow this
southerly movement of the Boers. Within two days of the investment of
the town they had swung round their left flank and attacked Colenso,
twelve miles south, shelling the Durban Light Infantry out of their post
with a long-range fire. The British fell back twenty-seven miles
and concentrated at Estcourt, leaving the all-important Colenso
railway-bridge in the hands of the enemy. From this onwards they held
the north of the Tugela, and many a widow wore crepe before we got our
grip upon it once more. Never was there a more critical week in the war,
but having got Colenso the Boers did little more. They formally annexed
the whole of Northern Natal to the Orange Free State--a dangerous
precedent when the tables should be turned. With amazing assurance the
burghers pegged out farms for themselves and sent for their people to
occupy these newly won estates.
On November 5th the Boers had remained so inert that the British
returned in small force to Colenso and removed some stores--which seems
to suggest that the original retirement was premature. Four days passed
in inactivity--four precious days for us--and on the evening of the
fourth, November 9th, the watchers on the signal station at Table
Mountain saw the smoke of a great steamer coming past Robben Island. It
was the 'Roslin Castle' with the first of the reinforcements. Within the
week the 'Moor,' 'Yorkshire,' 'Aurania,' 'Hawarden Castle,' 'Gascon,'
'Armenian,' 'Oriental,' and a fleet of others had passed for Durban with
15,000 men. Once again the command of the sea had saved the Empire.
But, now that it was too late, the Boers suddenly took the initiative,
and in dramatic fashion. North of Estcourt, where General Hildyard was
being daily reinforced from the sea, there are two small townlets, or at
least geographical (and railway) points. Frere is about ten miles north
of Estcourt, and Chieveley is five miles north of that and about as
far to the south of Colenso. On November 15th an armoured train was
despatched from Estcourt to see what was going on up the line. Already
one disaster had befallen us in this campaign on account of these clumsy
contrivances, and a heavier one was now to confirm the opinion that,
acting alone, they are totally inadmissible. As a means of carrying
artillery for a force operating upon either flank of them, with an
assured retreat behind, there may be a place for them in modern war, but
as a method of scouting they appear to be the most inefficient and also
the most expensive that has ever been invented. An intelligent horseman
would gather more information, be less visible, and retain some freedom
as to route. After our experience the armoured train may steam out of
military history.
The train contained ninety Dublin Fusiliers, eighty Durban Volunteers,
and ten sailors, with a naval 7-pounder gun. Captain Haldane of the
Gordons, Lieutenant Frankland (Dublin Fusiliers), and Winston Churchill,
the well-known correspondent, accompanied the expedition. What might
have been foreseen occurred. The train steamed into the advancing Boer
army, was fired upon, tried to escape, found the rails blocked behind
it, and upset. Dublins and Durbans were shot helplessly out of their
trucks, under a heavy fire. A railway accident is a nervous thing, and
so is an ambuscade, but the combination of the two must be appalling.
Yet there were brave hearts which rose to the occasion. Haldane and
Frankland rallied the troops, and Churchill the engine-driver. The
engine was disentangled and sent on with its cab full of wounded.
Churchill, who had escaped upon it, came gallantly back to share the
fate of his comrades. The dazed shaken soldiers continued a futile
resistance for some time, but there was neither help nor escape and
nothing for them but surrender. The most Spartan military critic cannot
blame them. A few slipped away besides those who escaped upon the
engine. Our losses were two killed, twenty wounded, and about eighty
taken. It is remarkable that of the three leaders both Haldane and
Churchill succeeded in escaping from Pretoria.
A double tide of armed men was now pouring into Southern Natal. From
below, trainload after trainload of British regulars were coming up to
the danger point, feted and cheered at every station. Lonely farmhouses
near the line hung out their Union Jacks, and the folk on the stoep
heard the roar of the choruses as the great trains swung upon their way.
From above the Boers were flooding down, as Churchill saw them, dour,
resolute, riding silently through the rain, or chanting hymns round
their camp fires--brave honest farmers, but standing unconsciously for
mediaevalism and corruption, even as our rough-tongued Tommies stood for
civilisation, progress, and equal rights for all men.
The invading force, the numbers of which could not have exceeded some
few thousands, formidable only for their mobility, lapped round the more
powerful but less active force at Estcourt, and struck behind it at
its communications. There was for a day or two some discussion as to a
further retreat, but Hildyard, strengthened by the advice and presence
of Colonel Long, determined to hold his ground. On November 21st the
raiding Boers were as far south as Nottingham Road, a point thirty miles
south of Estcourt and only forty miles north of the considerable city of
Pietermaritzburg. The situation was serious. Either the invaders must
be stopped, or the second largest town in the colony would be in
their hands. From all sides came tales of plundered farms and broken
households. Some at least of the raiders behaved with wanton brutality.
Smashed pianos, shattered pictures, slaughtered stock, and vile
inscriptions, all exhibit a predatory and violent side to the
paradoxical Boer character. [Footnote: More than once I have heard the
farmers in the Free State acknowledge that the ruin which had come upon
them was a just retribution for the excesses of Natal.]
The next British post behind Hildyard's at Estcourt was Barton's upon
the Mooi River, thirty miles to the south. Upon this the Boers made a
half-hearted attempt, but Joubert had begun to realise the strength of
the British reinforcements and the impossibility with the numbers at his
disposal of investing a succession of British posts. He ordered Botha to
withdraw from Mooi River and begin his northerly trek.
The turning-point of the Boer invasion of Natal was marked, though we
cannot claim that it was caused, by the action of Willow Grange. This
was fought by Hildyard and Walter Kitchener in command of the Estcourt
garrison, against about 2000 of the invaders under Louis Botha. The
troops engaged were the East and West Surreys (four companies of the
latter), the West Yorkshires, the Durban Light Infantry, No. 7 battery
R.F.A., two naval guns, and some hundreds of Colonial Horse.
The enemy being observed to have a gun upon a hill within striking
distance of Estcourt, this force set out on November 22nd to make a
night attack and to endeavour to capture it. The hill was taken without
difficulty, but it was found that the gun had been removed. A severe
counter-attack was made at daylight by the Boers, and the troops were
compelled with no great loss and less glory to return to the town.
The Surreys and the Yorkshires behaved very well, but were placed in a
difficult position and were badly supported by the artillery. Martyn's
Mounted Infantry covered the retirement with great gallantry, but the
skirmish ended in a British loss of fourteen killed and fifty wounded
or missing, which was certainly more than that of the Boers. From this
indecisive action of Willow Grange the Boer invasion receded until
General Buller, coming to the front on November 27th, found that the
enemy was once more occupying the line of the Tugela. He himself moved
up to Frere, where he devoted his time and energies to the collection of
that force with which he was destined, after three failures, to make his
way into Ladysmith.
One unexpected and little known result of the Boer expedition into
Southern Natal was that their leader, the chivalrous Joubert, injured
himself through his horse stumbling, and was physically incapacitated
for the remainder of the campaign. He returned almost immediately to
Pretoria, leaving the command of the Tugela in the hands of Louis Botha.
Leaving Buller to organise his army at Frere, and the Boer commanders
to draw their screen of formidable defences along the Tugela, we will
return once more to the fortunes of the unhappy town round which the
interest of the world, and possibly the destiny of the Empire, were
centering. It is very certain that had Ladysmith fallen, and twelve
thousand British soldiers with a million pounds' worth of stores fallen
into the hands of the invaders, we should have been faced with the
alternative of abandoning the struggle, or of reconquering South Africa
from Cape Town northwards. South Africa is the keystone of the Empire,
and for the instant Ladysmith was the keystone of South Africa. But
the courage of the troops who held the shell-torn townlet, and the
confidence of the public who watched them, never faltered for an
instant.
December 8th was marked by a gallant exploit on the part of the
beleaguered garrison. Not a whisper had transpired of the coming sortie,
and a quarter of an hour before the start officers engaged had no idea
of it. O si sic omnia! At ten o'clock a band of men slipped out of the
town. There were six hundred of them, all irregulars, drawn from the
Imperial Light Horse, the Natal Carabineers, and the Border Mounted
Rifles, under the command of Hunter, youngest and most dashing of
British Generals. Edwardes and Boyston were the subcommanders. The men
had no knowledge of where they were going or what they had to do, but
they crept silently along under a drifting sky, with peeps of a quarter
moon, over a mimosa-shadowed plain. At last in front of them there
loomed a dark mass--it was Gun Hill, from which one of the great
Creusots had plagued them. A strong support (four hundred men) was left
at the base of the hill, and the others, one hundred Imperials, one
hundred Borders and Carabineers, ten Sappers, crept upwards with Major
Henderson as guide. A Dutch outpost challenged, but was satisfied by a
Dutch-speaking Carabineer. Higher and higher the men crept, the silence
broken only by the occasional slip of a stone or the rustle of their own
breathing. Most of them had left their boots below. Even in the darkness
they kept some formation, and the right wing curved forward to outflank
the defence. Suddenly a Mauser crack and a spurt of flame--then another
and another! 'Come on, boys! Fix bayonets!' yelled Karri Davies. There
were no bayonets, but that was a detail. At the word the gunners were
off, and there in the darkness in front of the storming party loomed
the enormous gun, gigantic in that uncertain light. Out with the
huge breech-block! Wrap the long lean muzzle round with a collar of
gun-cotton! Keep the guard upon the run until the work is done!
Hunter stood by with a night light in his hand until the charge was in
position, and then, with a crash which brought both armies from their
tents, the huge tube reared up on its mountings and toppled backwards
into the pit. A howitzer lurked beside it, and this also was blown into
ruin. The attendant Maxim was dragged back by the exultant captors, who
reached the town amid shoutings and laughter with the first break of
day. One man wounded, the gallant Henderson, is the cheap price for the
best-planned and most dashing exploit of the war. Secrecy in conception,
vigour in execution--they are the root ideas of the soldier's craft. So
easily was the enterprise carried out, and so defective the Boer
watch, that it is probable that if all the guns had been simultaneously
attacked the Boers might have found themselves without a single piece of
ordnance in the morning. [Footnote: The destruction of the Creusot was
not as complete as was hoped. It was taken back to Pretoria, three feet
were sawn off the muzzle, and a new breech-block provided. The gun was
then sent to Kimberley, and it was the heavy cannon which arrived late
in the history of that siege and caused considerable consternation among
the inhabitants.]
On the same morning (December 9th) a cavalry reconnaissance was pushed
in the direction of Pepworth Hill. The object no doubt was to ascertain
whether the enemy were still present in force, and the terrific roll
of the Mausers answered it in the affirmative. Two killed and twenty
wounded was the price which we paid for the information. There had been
three such reconnaissances in the five weeks of the siege, and it
is difficult to see what advantage they gave or how they are to be
justified. Far be it for the civilian to dogmatise upon such matters,
but one can repeat, and to the best of one's judgment endorse, the
opinion of the vast majority of officers.
There were heart burnings among the Regulars that the colonial troops
should have gone in front of them, so their martial jealousy was allayed
three nights later by the same task being given to them. Four companies
of the 2nd Rifle Brigade were the troops chosen, with a few sappers and
gunners, the whole under the command of Colonel Metcalfe of the same
battalion. A single gun, the 4.7 howitzer upon Surprise Hill, was the
objective. Again there was the stealthy advance through the darkness,
again the support was left at the bottom of the hill, again the two
companies carefully ascended, again there was the challenge, the rush,
the flight, and the gun was in the hands of the stormers.
Here and only here the story varies. For some reason the fuse used
for the guncotton was defective, and half an hour elapsed before the
explosion destroyed the howitzer. When it came it came very thoroughly,
but it was a weary time in coming. Then our men descended the hill,
but the Boers were already crowding in upon them from either side. The
English cries of the soldiers were answered in English by the Boers, and
slouch hat or helmet dimly seen in the mirk was the only badge of friend
or foe. A singular letter is extant from young Reitz (the son of the
Transvaal secretary), who was present. According to his account there
were but eight Boers present, but assertion or contradiction equally
valueless in the darkness of such a night, and there are some obvious
discrepancies in his statement. 'We fired among them,' says Reitz.
'They stopped and all cried out “Rifle Brigade.” Then one of them said
“Charge!” One officer, Captain Paley, advanced, though he had two bullet
wounds already. Joubert gave him another shot and he fell on the top of
us. Four Englishmen got hold of Jan Luttig and struck him on the head
with their rifles and stabbed him in the stomach with a bayonet. He
seized two of them by the throat and shouted “Help, boys!” His two
nearest comrades shot two of them, and the other two bolted. Then the
English came up in numbers, about eight hundred, along the footpath'
(there were two hundred on the hill, but the exaggeration is pardonable
in the darkness), 'and we lay as quiet as mice along the bank. Farther
on the English killed three of our men with bayonets and wounded two.
In the morning we found Captain Paley and twenty-two of them killed and
wounded.' It seems evident that Reitz means that his own little
party were eight men, and not that that represented the force which
intercepted the retiring riflemen. Within his own knowledge five of his
countrymen were killed in the scuffle, so the total loss was probably
considerable. Our own casualties were eleven dead, forty-three wounded,
and six prisoners, but the price was not excessive for the howitzer and
for the morale which arises from such exploits. Had it not been for that
unfortunate fuse, the second success might have been as bloodless as the
first. 'I am sorry,' said a sympathetic correspondent to the stricken
Paley. 'But we got the gun,' Paley whispered, and he spoke for the
Brigade.
Amid the shell-fire, the scanty rations, the enteric and the dysentery,
one ray of comfort had always brightened the garrison. Buller was only
twelve miles away--they could hear his guns--and when his advance came
in earnest their sufferings would be at an end. But now in an instant
this single light was shut off and the true nature of their situation
was revealed to them. Buller had indeed moved...but backwards. He had
been defeated at Colenso, and the siege was not ending but beginning.
With heavier hearts but undiminished resolution the army and the
townsfolk settled down to the long, dour struggle. The exultant enemy
replaced their shattered guns and drew their lines closer still round
the stricken town.
A record of the siege onwards until the break of the New Year centres
upon the sordid details of the sick returns and of the price of food.
Fifty on one day, seventy on the next, passed under the hands of the
overworked and devoted doctors. Fifteen hundred, and later two thousand,
of the garrison were down. The air was poisoned by foul sewage and dark
with obscene flies. They speckled the scanty food. Eggs were already a
shilling each, cigarettes sixpence, whisky five pounds a bottle: a city
more free from gluttony and drunkenness has never been seen.
Shell-fire has shown itself in this war to be an excellent ordeal for
those who desire martial excitement with a minimum of danger. But
now and again some black chance guides a bomb--one in five thousand
perhaps--to a most tragic issue. Such a deadly missile falling among
Boers near Kimberley is said to have slain nine and wounded seventeen.
In Ladysmith too there are days to be marked in red when the gunner shot
better than he knew. One shell on December 17th killed six men (Natal
Carabineers), wounded three, and destroyed fourteen horses. The grisly
fact has been recorded that five separate human legs lay upon the
ground. On December 22nd another tragic shot killed five and wounded
twelve of the Devons. On the same day four officers of the 5th Lancers
(including the Colonel) and one sergeant were wounded--a most disastrous
day. A little later it was again the turn of the Devons, who lost one
officer killed and ten wounded. Christmas set in amid misery, hunger,
and disease, the more piteous for the grim attempts to amuse the
children and live up to the joyous season, when the present of Santa
Claus was too often a 96-pound shell. On the top of all other troubles
it was now known that the heavy ammunition was running short and must
be husbanded for emergencies. There was no surcease, however, in the
constant hail which fell upon the town. Two or three hundred shells were
a not unusual daily allowance. The monotonous bombardment with which
the New Year had commenced was soon to be varied by a most gallant and
spirit-stirring clash of arms. On January 6th the Boers delivered their
great assault upon Ladysmith--an onfall so gallantly made and gallantly
met that it deserves to rank among the classic fights of British
military history. It is a tale which neither side need be ashamed to
tell. Honour to the sturdy infantry who held their grip so long,
and honour also to the rough men of the veld, who, led by untrained
civilians, stretched us to the utmost capacity of our endurance.
It may be that the Boers wished once for all to have done at all costs
with the constant menace to their rear, or it may be that the deliberate
preparations of Buller for his second advance had alarmed them, and that
they realised that they must act quickly if they were to act at all.
At any rate, early in the New Year a most determined attack was decided
upon. The storming party consisted of some hundreds of picked volunteers
from the Heidelberg (Transvaal) and Harrismith (Free State) contingents,
led by de Villiers. They were supported by several thousand riflemen,
who might secure their success or cover their retreat. Eighteen heavy
guns had been trained upon the long ridge, one end of which has been
called Caesar's Camp and the other Waggon Hill. This hill, three miles
long, lay to the south of the town, and the Boers had early recognised
it as being the most vulnerable point, for it was against it that their
attack of November 9th had been directed. Now, after two months, they
were about to renew the attempt with greater resolution against less
robust opponents. At twelve o'clock our scouts heard the sounds of the
chanting of hymns in the Boer camps. At two in the morning crowds
of barefooted men were clustering round the base of the ridge, and
threading their way, rifle in hand, among the mimosa-bushes and
scattered boulders which cover the slope of the hill. Some working
parties were moving guns into position, and the noise of their labour
helped to drown the sound of the Boer advance. Both at Caesar's Camp,
the east end of the ridge, and at Waggon Hill, the west end (the points
being, I repeat, three miles apart), the attack came as a complete
surprise. The outposts were shot or driven in, and the stormers were
on the ridge almost as soon as their presence was detected. The line of
rocks blazed with the flash of their guns.
Caesar's Camp was garrisoned by one sturdy regiment, the Manchesters,
aided by a Colt automatic gun. The defence had been arranged in the form
of small sangars, each held by from ten to twenty men. Some few of these
were rushed in the darkness, but the Lancashire men pulled themselves
together and held on strenuously to those which remained. The crash
of musketry woke the sleeping town, and the streets resounded with the
shouting of the officers and the rattling of arms as the men mustered in
the darkness and hurried to the points of danger.
Three companies of the Gordons had been left near Caesar's Camp, and
these, under Captain Carnegie, threw themselves into the struggle. Four
other companies of Gordons came up in support from the town, losing
upon the way their splendid colonel, Dick-Cunyngham, who was killed by a
chance shot at three thousand yards, on this his first appearance since
he had recovered from his wounds at Elandslaagte. Later four companies
of the Rifle Brigade were thrown into the firing line, and a total of
two and a half infantry battalions held that end of the position. It was
not a man too much. With the dawn of day it could be seen that the Boers
held the southern and we the northern slopes, while the narrow plateau
between formed a bloody debatable ground. Along a front of a quarter of
a mile fierce eyes glared and rifle barrels flashed from behind every
rock, and the long fight swayed a little back or a little forward with
each upward heave of the stormers or rally of the soldiers. For hours
the combatants were so near that a stone or a taunt could be thrown from
one to the other. Some scattered sangars still held their own, though
the Boers had passed them. One such, manned by fourteen privates of the
Manchester Regiment, remained untaken, but had only two defenders left
at the end of the bloody day.
With the coming of the light the 53rd Field Battery, the one which had
already done so admirably at Lombard's Kop, again deserved well of its
country. It was impossible to get behind the Boers and fire straight at
their position, so every shell fired had to skim over the heads of
our own men upon the ridge and so pitch upon the reverse slope. Yet so
accurate was the fire, carried on under an incessant rain of shells
from the big Dutch gun on Bulwana, that not one shot miscarried and that
Major Abdy and his men succeeded in sweeping the further slope without
loss to our own fighting line. Exactly the same feat was equally well
performed at the other end of the position by Major Blewitt's 21st
Battery, which was exposed to an even more searching fire than the 53rd.
Any one who has seen the iron endurance of British gunners and marvelled
at the answering shot which flashes out through the very dust of the
enemy's exploding shell, will understand how fine must have been the
spectacle of these two batteries working in the open, with the ground
round them sharded with splinters. Eye-witnesses have left it upon
record that the sight of Major Blewitt strolling up and down among his
guns, and turning over with his toe the last fallen section of iron, was
one of the most vivid and stirring impressions which they carried from
the fight. Here also it was that the gallant Sergeant Bosley, his arm
and his leg stricken off by a Boer shell, cried to his comrades to roll
his body off the trail and go on working the gun.
At the same time as--or rather earlier than--the onslaught upon Caesar's
Camp a similar attack had been made with secrecy and determination upon
the western end of the position called Waggon Hill. The barefooted Boers
burst suddenly with a roll of rifle-fire into the little garrison of
Imperial Light Horse and Sappers who held the position. Mathias of the
former, Digby-Jones and Dennis of the latter, showed that 'two in
the morning' courage which Napoleon rated as the highest of military
virtues. They and their men were surprised but not disconcerted, and
stood desperately to a slogging match at the closest quarters. Seventeen
Sappers were down out of thirty, and more than half the little body of
irregulars. This end of the position was feebly fortified, and it is
surprising that so experienced and sound a soldier as Ian Hamilton
should have left it so. The defence had no marked advantage as compared
with the attack, neither trench, sangar, nor wire entanglement, and in
numbers they were immensely inferior. Two companies of the 60th Rifles
and a small body of the ubiquitous Gordons happened to be upon the hill
and threw themselves into the fray, but they were unable to turn the
tide. Of thirty-three Gordons under Lieutenant MacNaughten thirty were
wounded. [Footnote: The Gordons and the Sappers were there that morning
to re-escort one of Lambton's 4.7 guns, which was to be mounted there.
Ten seamen were with the gun, and lost three of their number in the
defence.] As our men retired under the shelter of the northern slope
they were reinforced by another hundred and fifty Gordons under the
stalwart Miller-Wallnutt, a man cast in the mould of a Berserk Viking.
To their aid also came two hundred of the Imperial Light Horse, burning
to assist their comrades. Another half-battalion of Rifles came with
them. At each end of the long ridge the situation at the dawn of day
was almost identical. In each the stormers had seized one side, but were
brought to a stand by the defenders upon the other, while the British
guns fired over the heads of their own infantry to rake the further
slope.
It was on the Waggon Hill side, however, that the Boer exertions were
most continuous and strenuous and our own resistance most desperate.
There fought the gallant de Villiers, while Ian Hamilton rallied the
defenders and led them in repeated rushes against the enemy's line.
Continually reinforced from below, the Boers fought with extraordinary
resolution. Never will any one who witnessed that Homeric contest
question the valour of our foes. It was a murderous business on both
sides. Edwardes of the Light Horse was struck down. In a gun-emplacement
a strange encounter took place at point-blank range between a group of
Boers and of Britons. De Villiers of the Free State shot Miller-Wallnut
dead, Ian Hamilton fired at de Villiers with his revolver and missed
him. Young Albrecht of the Light Horse shot de Villiers. A Boer named de
Jaeger shot Albrecht. Digby-Jones of the Sappers shot de Jaeger. Only a
few minutes later the gallant lad, who had already won fame enough for
a veteran, was himself mortally wounded, and Dennis, his comrade in arms
and in glory, fell by his side.
There has been no better fighting in our time than that upon Waggon Hill
on that January morning, and no better fighters than the Imperial Light
Horsemen who formed the centre of the defence. Here, as at Elandslaagte,
they proved themselves worthy to stand in line with the crack regiments
of the British army.
Through the long day the fight maintained its equilibrium along the
summit of the ridge, swaying a little that way or this, but never
amounting to a repulse of the stormers or to a rout of the defenders. So
intermixed were the combatants that a wounded man more than once found
himself a rest for the rifles of his enemies. One unfortunate soldier in
this position received six more bullets from his own comrades in their
efforts to reach the deadly rifleman behind him. At four o'clock a huge
bank of clouds which had towered upwards unheeded by the struggling men
burst suddenly into a terrific thunderstorm with vivid lightnings and
lashing rain. It is curious that the British victory at Elandslaagte
was heralded by just such another storm. Up on the bullet-swept hill
the long fringes of fighting men took no more heed of the elements than
would two bulldogs who have each other by the throat. Up the greasy
hillside, foul with mud and with blood, came the Boer reserves, and
up the northern slope came our own reserve, the Devon Regiment, fit
representatives of that virile county. Admirably led by Park, their
gallant Colonel, the Devons swept the Boers before them, and the Rifles,
Gordons, and Light Horse joined in the wild charge which finally cleared
the ridge.
But the end was not yet. The Boer had taken a risk over this venture,
and now he had to pay the stakes. Down the hill he passed, crouching,
darting, but the spruits behind him were turned into swirling streams,
and as he hesitated for an instant upon the brink the relentless sleet
of bullets came from behind. Many were swept away down the gorges and
into the Klip River, never again to be accounted for in the lists of
their field-cornet. The majority splashed through, found their horses
in their shelter, and galloped off across the great Bulwana Plain, as
fairly beaten in as fair a fight as ever brave men were yet.
The cheers of victory as the Devons swept the ridge had heartened the
weary men upon Caesar's Camp to a similar effort. Manchesters, Gordons,
and Rifles, aided by the fire of two batteries, cleared the long-debated
position. Wet, cold, weary, and without food for twenty-six hours, the
bedraggled Tommies stood yelling and waving, amid the litter of dead and
of dying.
It was a near thing. Had the ridge fallen the town must have followed,
and history perhaps have been changed. In the old stiff-rank Majuba days
we should have been swept in an hour from the position. But the wily man
behind the rock was now to find an equally wily man in front of him.
The soldier had at last learned something of the craft of the hunter. He
clung to his shelter, he dwelled on his aim, he ignored his dressings,
he laid aside the eighteenth-century traditions of his pigtailed
ancestor, and he hit the Boers harder than they had been hit yet. No
return may ever come to us of their losses on that occasion; 80 dead
bodies were returned to them from the ridge alone, while the slopes,
the dongas, and the river each had its own separate tale. No possible
estimate can make it less than three hundred killed and wounded, while
many place it at a much higher figure. Our own casualties were very
serious and the proportion of dead to wounded unusually high, owing to
the fact that the greater part of the wounds were necessarily of the
head. In killed we lost 13 officers, 135 men. In wounded 28 officers,
244 men--a total of 420, Lord Ava, the honoured Son of an honoured
father, the fiery Dick-Cunyngham, stalwart Miller-Wallnutt, the brave
boy sappers Digby-Jones and Dennis, Adams and Packman of the Light
Horse, the chivalrous Lafone--we had to mourn quality as well as
numbers. The grim test of the casualty returns shows that it was to the
Imperial Light Horse (ten officers down, and the regiment commanded by
a junior captain), the Manchesters, the Gordons, the Devons, and the 2nd
Rifle Brigade that the honours of the day are due.
In the course of the day two attacks had been made upon other points
of the British position, the one on Observation Hill on the north, the
other on the Helpmakaar position on the east. Of these the latter was
never pushed home and was an obvious feint, but in the case of the other
it was not until Schutte, their commander, and forty or fifty men had
been killed and wounded, that the stormers abandoned their attempt. At
every point the assailants found the same scattered but impenetrable
fringe of riflemen, and the same energetic batteries waiting for them.
Throughout the Empire the course of this great struggle was watched with
the keenest solicitude and with all that painful emotion which springs
from impotent sympathy. By heliogram to Buller, and so to the farthest
ends of that great body whose nerves are the telegraphic wires, there
came the announcement of the attack. Then after an interval of hours
came 'everywhere repulsed, but fighting continues.' Then, 'Attack
continues. Enemy reinforced from the south.' Then 'Attack renewed. Very
hard pressed.' There the messages ended for the day, leaving the
Empire black with apprehension. The darkest forecasts and most dreary
anticipations were indulged by the most temperate and best-informed
London papers. For the first time the very suggestion that the campaign
might be above our strength was made to the public. And then at last
there came the official news of the repulse of the assault. Far away
at Ladysmith, the weary men and their sorely tried officers gathered to
return thanks to God for His manifold mercies, but in London also hearts
were stricken solemn by the greatness of the crisis, and lips long
unused to prayer joined in the devotions of the absent warriors.