Lord Roberts's operations, prepared with admirable secrecy and carried
out with extreme energy, aimed at two different results, each of which
he was fortunate enough to attain. The first was that an overpowering
force of cavalry should ride round the Boer position and raise the siege
of Kimberley: the fate of this expedition has already been described.
The second was that the infantry, following hard on the heels of the
cavalry, and holding all that they had gained, should establish itself
upon Cronje's left flank and cut his connection with Bloemfontein. It is
this portion of the operations which has now to be described.
The infantry force which General Roberts had assembled was a very
formidable one. The Guards he had left under Methuen in front of the
lines of Magersfontein to contain the Boer force. With them he had
also left those regiments which had fought in the 9th Brigade in
all Methuen's actions. These, as will be remembered, were the 1st
Northumberland Fusiliers, the 2nd Yorkshire Light Infantry, the 2nd
Northamptons, and one wing of the Loyal North Lancashire Regiment. These
stayed to hold Cronje in his position.
There remained three divisions of infantry, one of which, the ninth, was
made up on the spot. These were constituted in this way:
Sixth Division (Kelly-Kenny).
12th Brigade (Knox).
Oxford Light Infantry.
Gloucesters (2nd).
West Riding.
Buffs.
18th Brigade (Stephenson).
Essex.
Welsh.
Warwicks.
Yorks Seventh Division (Tucker).
14th Brigade (Chermside).
Scots Borderers.
Lincolns.
Hampshires.
Norfolks.
15th Brigade (Wavell).
North Staffords.
Cheshires.
S. Wales Borderers.
East Lancashires Ninth Division (Colvile).
Highland Brigade (Macdonald).
Black Watch.
Argyll and Sutherlands.
Seaforths.
Highland Light Infantry.
19th Brigade (Smith-Dorrien).
Gordons.
Canadians.
Shropshire Light Infantry.
Cornwall Light Infantry.
With these were two brigade divisions of artillery under General
Marshall, the first containing the 18th, 62nd, and 75th batteries
(Colonel Hall), the other the 76th, 81st, and 82nd (Colonel McDonnell).
Besides these there were a howitzer battery, a naval contingent of four
4.7 guns and four 12-pounders under Captain Bearcroft of the 'Philomel.'
The force was soon increased by the transfer of the Guards and the
arrival of more artillery; but the numbers which started on Monday,
February 12th, amounted roughly to twenty-five thousand foot and eight
thousand horse with 98 guns--a considerable army to handle in a foodless
and almost waterless country. Seven hundred wagons drawn by eleven
thousand mules and oxen, all collected by the genius for preparation
and organisation which characterises Lord Kitchener, groaned and creaked
behind the columns.
Both arms had concentrated at Ramdam, the cavalry going down by road,
and the infantry by rail as far as Belmont or Enslin. On Monday,
February 12th, the cavalry had started, and on Tuesday the infantry were
pressing hard after them. The first thing was to secure a position
upon Cronje's flank, and for that purpose the 6th Division and the 9th
(Kelly-Kenny's and Colvile's) pushed swiftly on and arrived on Thursday,
February 15th, at Klip Drift on the Modder, which had only been left
by the cavalry that same morning. It was obviously impossible to leave
Jacobsdal in the hands of the enemy on our left flank, so the 7th
Division (Tucker's) turned aside to attack the town. Wavell's brigade
carried the place after a sharp skirmish, chiefly remarkable for the
fact that the City Imperial Volunteers found themselves under fire
for the first time and bore themselves with the gallantry of the old
train-bands whose descendants they are. Our loss was two killed and
twenty wounded, and we found ourselves for the first time firmly
established in one of the enemy's towns. In the excellent German
hospital were thirty or forty of our wounded.
On the afternoon of Thursday, February 15th, our cavalry, having left
Klip Drift in the morning, were pushing hard for Kimberley. At Klip
Drift was Kelly-Kenny's 6th Division. South of Klip Drift at Wegdraai
was Colvile's 9th Division, while the 7th Division was approaching
Jacobsdal. Altogether the British forces were extended over a line of
forty miles. The same evening saw the relief of Kimberley and the taking
of Jacobsdal, but it also saw the capture of one of our convoys by the
Boers, a dashing exploit which struck us upon what was undoubtedly our
vulnerable point.
It has never been cleared up whence the force of Boers came which
appeared upon our rear on that occasion. It seems to have been the same
body which had already had a skirmish with Hannay's Mounted Infantry
as they went up from Orange River to join the rendezvous at Ramdam.
The balance of evidence is that they had not come from Colesberg or any
distant point, but that they were a force under the command of Piet De
Wet, the younger of two famous brothers. Descending to Waterval Drift,
the ford over the Riet, they occupied a line of kopjes, which ought, one
would have imagined, to have been carefully guarded by us, and opened
a brisk fire from rifles and guns upon the convoy as it ascended the
northern bank of the river. Numbers of bullocks were soon shot down,
and the removal of the hundred and eighty wagons made impossible. The
convoy, which contained forage and provisions, had no guard of its own,
but the drift was held by Colonel Ridley with one company of Gordons
and one hundred and fifty mounted infantry without artillery, which
certainly seems an inadequate force to secure the most vital and
vulnerable spot in the line of communications of an army of forty
thousand men. The Boers numbered at the first some five or six hundred
men, but their position was such that they could not be attacked. On the
other hand they were not strong enough to leave their shelter in order
to drive in the British guard, who, lying in extended order between the
wagons and the assailants, were keeping up a steady and effective fire.
Captain Head, of the East Lancashire Regiment, a fine natural soldier,
commanded the British firing line, and neither he nor any of his men
doubted that they could hold off the enemy for an indefinite time. In
the course of the afternoon reinforcements arrived for the Boers, but
Kitchener's Horse and a field battery came back and restored the balance
of power. In the evening the latter swayed altogether in favour of the
British, as Tucker appeared upon the scene with the whole of the 14th
Brigade; but as the question of an assault was being debated a positive
order arrived from Lord Roberts that the convoy should be abandoned and
the force return.
If Lord Roberts needed justification for this decision, the future
course of events will furnish it. One of Napoleon's maxims in war was to
concentrate all one's energies upon one thing at one time. Roberts's aim
was to outflank and possibly to capture Cronje's army. If he allowed
a brigade to be involved in a rearguard action, his whole swift-moving
plan of campaign might be dislocated. It was very annoying to lose a
hundred and eighty wagons, but it only meant a temporary inconvenience.
The plan of campaign was the essential thing. Therefore he sacrificed
his convoy and hurried his troops upon their original mission. It was
with heavy hearts and bitter words that those who had fought so long
abandoned their charge, but now at least there are probably few of them
who do not agree in the wisdom of the sacrifice. Our loss in this affair
was between fifty and sixty killed and wounded. The Boers were unable
to get rid of the stores, and they were eventually distributed among the
local farmers and recovered again as the British forces flowed over the
country. Another small disaster occurred to us on the preceding day in
the loss of fifty men of E company of Kitchener's Horse, which had been
left as a guard to a well in the desert.
But great events were coming to obscure those small checks which are
incidental to a war carried out over immense distances against a mobile
and enterprising enemy. Cronje had suddenly become aware of the net
which was closing round him. To the dark fierce man who had striven so
hard to make his line of kopjes impregnable it must have been a bitter
thing to abandon his trenches and his rifle pits. But he was crafty
as well as tenacious, and he had the Boer horror of being cut off--an
hereditary instinct from fathers who had fought on horseback against
enemies on foot. If at any time during the last ten weeks Methuen had
contained him in front with a thin line of riflemen with machine guns,
and had thrown the rest of his force on Jacobsdal and the east, he would
probably have attained the same result. Now at the rumour of English
upon his flank Cronje instantly abandoned his position and his plans,
in order to restore those communications with Bloemfontein upon which he
depended for his supplies. With furious speed he drew in his right wing,
and then, one huge mass of horsemen, guns, and wagons, he swept through
the gap between the rear of the British cavalry bound for Kimberley and
the head of the British infantry at Klip Drift. There was just room
to pass, and at it he dashed with the furious energy of a wild beast
rushing from a trap. A portion of his force with his heavy guns had gone
north round Kimberley to Warrenton; many of the Freestaters also had
slipped away and returned to their farms. The remainder, numbering about
six thousand men, the majority of whom were Transvaalers, swept through
between the British forces.
This movement was carried out on the night of February 15th, and had it
been a little quicker it might have been concluded before we were aware
of it. But the lumbering wagons impeded it, and on the Friday morning,
February 16th, a huge rolling cloud of dust on the northern veld, moving
from west to east, told our outposts at Klip Drift that Cronje's army
had almost slipped through our fingers. Lord Kitchener, who was in
command at Klip Drift at the moment, instantly unleashed his mounted
infantry in direct pursuit, while Knox's brigade sped along the northern
bank of the river to cling on to the right haunch of the retreating
column. Cronje's men had made a night march of thirty miles from
Magersfontein, and the wagon bullocks were exhausted. It was impossible,
without an absolute abandonment of his guns and stores, for him to get
away from his pursuers.
This was no deer which they were chasing, however, but rather a grim
old Transvaal wolf, with his teeth flashing ever over his shoulder.
The sight of those distant white-tilted wagons fired the blood of every
mounted infantryman, and sent the Oxfords, the Buffs, the West Ridings,
and the Gloucesters racing along the river bank in the glorious virile
air of an African morning. But there were kopjes ahead, sown with fierce
Dopper Boers, and those tempting wagons were only to be reached over
their bodies. The broad plain across which the English were hurrying was
suddenly swept with a storm of bullets. The long infantry line extended
yet further and lapped round the flank of the Boer position, and once
more the terrible duet of the Mauser and the Lee-Metford was sung while
the 81st field battery hurried up in time to add its deep roar to their
higher chorus. With fine judgment Cronje held on to the last moment of
safety, and then with a swift movement to the rear seized a further line
two miles off, and again snapped back at his eager pursuers. All day the
grim and weary rearguard stalled off the fiery advance of the infantry,
and at nightfall the wagons were still untaken. The pursuing force to
the north of the river was, it must be remembered, numerically inferior
to the pursued, so that in simply retarding the advance of the enemy and
in giving other British troops time to come up, Knox's brigade was doing
splendid work. Had Cronje been well advised or well informed, he would
have left his guns and wagons in the hope that by a swift dash over the
Modder he might still bring his army away in safety. He seems to have
underrated both the British numbers and the British activity.
On the night then of Friday, February 16th, Cronje lay upon the northern
bank of the Modder, with his stores and guns still intact, and no enemy
in front of him, though Knox's brigade and Hannay's Mounted Infantry
were behind. It was necessary for Cronje to cross the river in order to
be on the line for Bloemfontein. As the river tended to the north
the sooner he could cross the better. On the south side of the river,
however, were considerable British forces, and the obvious strategy was
to hurry them forward and to block every drift at which he could get
over. The river runs between very deep banks, so steep that one might
almost describe them as small cliffs, and there was no chance of a
horseman, far less a wagon, crossing at any point save those where the
convenience of traffic and the use of years had worn sloping paths down
to the shallows. The British knew exactly therefore what the places
were which had to be blocked. On the use made of the next few hours the
success or failure of the whole operation must depend.
The nearest drift to Cronje was only a mile or two distant, Klipkraal
the name; next to that the Paardeberg Drift; next to that the
Wolveskraal Drift, each about seven miles from the other. Had Cronje
pushed on instantly after the action, he might have got across at
Klipkraal. But men, horses, and bullocks were equally exhausted after
a long twenty-four hours' marching and fighting. He gave his weary
soldiers some hours' rest, and then, abandoning seventy-eight of his
wagons, he pushed on before daylight for the farthest off of the three
fords (Wolveskraal Drift). Could he reach and cross it before his
enemies, he was safe. The Klipkraal Drift had in the meanwhile been
secured by the Buffs, the West Ridings, and the Oxfordshire Light
Infantry after a spirited little action which, in the rapid rush of
events, attracted less attention than it deserved. The brunt of the
fighting fell upon the Oxfords, who lost ten killed and thirty-nine
wounded. It was not a waste of life, however, for the action, though
small and hardly recorded, was really a very essential one in the
campaign.
But Lord Roberts's energy had infused itself into his divisional
commanders, his brigadiers, his colonels, and so down to the humblest
Tommy who tramped and stumbled through the darkness with a devout faith
that 'Bobs' was going to catch 'old Cronje' this time. The mounted
infantry had galloped round from the north to the south of the river,
crossing at Klip Drift and securing the southern end of Klipkraal.
Thither also came Stephenson's brigade from Kelly-Kenny's Division,
while Knox, finding in the morning that Cronje was gone, marched along
the northern bank to the same spot. As Klipkraal was safe, the
mounted infantry pushed on at once and secured the southern end of
the Paardeberg Drift, whither they were followed the same evening by
Stephenson and Knox. There remained only the Wolveskraal Drift to block,
and this had already been done by as smart a piece of work as any in the
war. Wherever French has gone he has done well, but his crowning glory
was the movement from Kimberley to head off Cronje's retreat.
The exertions which the mounted men had made in the relief of Kimberley
have been already recorded. They arrived there on Thursday with their
horses dead beat. They were afoot at three o'clock on Friday morning,
and two brigades out of three were hard at work all day in an endeavour
to capture the Dronfield position. Yet when on the same evening an
order came that French should start again instantly from Kimberley and
endeavour to head Cronje's army off, he did not plead inability, as many
a commander might, but taking every man whose horse was still fit to
carry him (something under two thousand out of a column which had been
at least five thousand strong), he started within a few hours and pushed
on through the whole night. Horses died under their riders, but still
the column marched over the shadowy veld under the brilliant stars. By
happy chance or splendid calculation they were heading straight for
the one drift which was still open to Cronje. It was a close thing. At
midday on Saturday the Boer advance guard was already near to the kopjes
which command it. But French's men, still full of fight after their
march of thirty miles, threw themselves in front and seized the position
before their very eyes. The last of the drifts was closed. If Cronje
was to get across now, he must crawl out of his trench and fight under
Roberts's conditions, or he might remain under his own conditions until
Roberts's forces closed round him. With him lay the alternative. In the
meantime, still ignorant of the forces about him, but finding himself
headed off by French, he made his way down to the river and occupied
a long stretch of it between Paardeberg Drift and Wolveskraal Drift,
hoping to force his way across. This was the situation on the night of
Saturday, February 17th.
In the course of that night the British brigades, staggering with
fatigue but indomitably resolute to crush their evasive enemy, were
converging upon Paardeberg. The Highland Brigade, exhausted by a heavy
march over soft sand from Jacobsdal to Klip Drift, were nerved to fresh
exertions by the word 'Magersfontein,' which flew from lip to lip along
the ranks, and pushed on for another twelve miles to Paardeberg.
Close at their heels came Smith-Dorrien's 19th Brigade, comprising the
Shropshires, the Cornwalls, the Gordons, and the Canadians, probably the
very finest brigade in the whole army. They pushed across the river and
took up their position upon the north bank. The old wolf was now fairly
surrounded. On the west the Highlanders were south of the river, and
Smith-Dorrien on the north. On the east Kelly-Kenny's Division was to
the south of the river, and French with his cavalry and mounted infantry
were to the north of it. Never was a general in a more hopeless plight.
Do what he would, there was no possible loophole for escape.
There was only one thing which apparently should not have been done, and
that was to attack him. His position was a formidable one. Not only were
the banks of the river fringed with his riflemen under excellent cover,
but from these banks there extended on each side a number of dongas,
which made admirable natural trenches. The only possible attack from
either side must be across a level plain at least a thousand or fifteen
hundred yards in width, where our numbers would only swell our losses.
It must be a bold soldier and a far bolder civilian, who would venture
to question an operation carried out under the immediate personal
direction of Lord Kitchener; but the general consensus of opinion among
critics may justify that which might be temerity in the individual. Had
Cronje not been tightly surrounded, the action with its heavy losses
might have been justified as an attempt to hold him until his investment
should be complete. There seems, however, to be no doubt that he was
already entirely surrounded, and that, as experience proved, we had
only to sit round him to insure his surrender. It is not given to the
greatest man to have every soldierly gift equally developed, and it may
be said without offence that Lord Kitchener's cool judgment upon the
actual field of battle has not yet been proved as conclusively as his
longheaded power of organisation and his iron determination.
Putting aside the question of responsibility, what happened on the
morning of Sunday, February 18th, was that from every quarter an assault
was urged across the level plains, to the north and to the south, upon
the lines of desperate and invisible men who lay in the dongas and
behind the banks of the river. Everywhere there was a terrible monotony
about the experiences of the various regiments which learned once again
the grim lessons of Colenso and Modder River. We surely did not need to
prove once more what had already been so amply proved, that bravery can
be of no avail against concealed riflemen well entrenched, and that the
more hardy is the attack the heavier must be the repulse. Over the long
circle of our attack Knox's brigade, Stephenson's brigade, the Highland
brigade, Smith-Dorrien's brigade all fared alike. In each case there was
the advance until they were within the thousand-yard fire zone, then the
resistless sleet of bullets which compelled them to get down and to
keep down. Had they even then recognised that they were attempting
the impossible, no great harm might have been done, but with generous
emulation the men of the various regiments made little rushes, company
by company, towards the river bed, and found themselves ever exposed to
a more withering fire. On the northern bank Smith-Dorrien's brigade,
and especially the Canadian regiment, distinguished themselves by the
magnificent tenacity with which they persevered in their attack. The
Cornwalls of the same brigade swept up almost to the river bank in a
charge which was the admiration of all who saw it. If the miners of
Johannesburg had given the impression that the Cornishman is not a
fighter, the record of the county regiment in the war has for ever
exploded the calumny. Men who were not fighters could have found no
place in Smith-Dorrien's brigade or in the charge of Paardeberg.
While the infantry had been severely handled by the Boer riflemen, our
guns, the 76th, 81st, and 82nd field batteries, with the 65th howitzer
battery, had been shelling the river bed, though our artillery fire
proved as usual to have little effect against scattered and hidden
riflemen. At least, however, it distracted their attention, and made
their fire upon the exposed infantry in front of them less deadly.
Now, as in Napoleon's time, the effect of the guns is moral rather than
material. About midday French's horse-artillery guns came into action
from the north. Smoke and flames from the dongas told that some of our
shells had fallen among the wagons and their combustible stores.
The Boer line had proved itself to be unshakable on each face, but at
its ends the result of the action was to push them up, and to shorten
the stretch of the river which was held by them. On the north bank
Smith-Dorrien's brigade gained a considerable amount of ground. At the
other end of the position the Welsh, Yorkshire, and Essex regiments of
Stephenson's brigade did some splendid work, and pushed the Boers for
some distance down the river bank. A most gallant but impossible charge
was made by Colonel Hannay and a number of mounted infantry against the
northern bank. He was shot with the majority of his followers. General
Knox of the 12th Brigade and General Macdonald of the Highlanders were
among the wounded. Colonel Aldworth of the Cornwalls died at the head of
his men. A bullet struck him dead as he whooped his West Countrymen on
to the charge. Eleven hundred killed and wounded testified to the fire
of our attack and the grimness of the Boer resistance. The distribution
of the losses among the various battalions--eighty among the Canadians,
ninety in the West Riding Regiment, one hundred and twenty in the
Seaforths, ninety in the Yorkshires, seventy-six in the Argyll
and Sutherlands, ninety-six in the Black Watch, thirty-one in
the Oxfordshires, fifty-six in the Cornwalls, forty-six in the
Shropshires--shows how universal was the gallantry, and especially how
well the Highland Brigade carried itself. It is to be feared that they
had to face, not only the fire of the enemy, but also that of their own
comrades on the further side of the river. A great military authority
has stated that it takes many years for a regiment to recover its spirit
and steadiness if it has been heavily punished, and yet within two
months of Magersfontein we find the indomitable Highlanders taking
without flinching the very bloodiest share of this bloody day--and this
after a march of thirty miles with no pause before going into action.
A repulse it may have been, but they hear no name of which they may be
more proud upon the victory scroll of their colours.
What had we got in return for our eleven hundred casualties? We had
contracted the Boer position from about three miles to less than two.
So much was to the good, as the closer they lay the more effective our
artillery fire might be expected to be. But it is probable that our
shrapnel alone, without any loss of life, might have effected the same
thing. It is easy to be wise after the event, but it does certainly
appear that with our present knowledge the action at Paardeberg was as
unnecessary as it was expensive. The sun descended on Sunday, February
18th, upon a bloody field and crowded field hospitals, but also upon an
unbroken circle of British troops still hemming in the desperate men who
lurked among the willows and mimosas which drape the brown steep banks
of the Modder.
There was evidence during the action of the presence of an active
Boer force to the south of us, probably the same well-handled and
enterprising body which had captured our convoy at Waterval. A small
party of Kitchener's Horse was surprised by this body, and thirty men
with four officers were taken prisoners. Much has been said of the
superiority of South African scouting to that of the British regulars,
but it must be confessed that a good many instances might be quoted
in which the colonials, though second to none in gallantry, have been
defective in that very quality in which they were expected to excel.
This surprise of our cavalry post had more serious consequences than can
be measured by the loss of men, for by it the Boers obtained possession
of a strong kopje called Kitchener's Hill, lying about two miles distant
on the south-east of our position. The movement was an admirable one
strategically upon their part, for it gave their beleaguered comrades
a first station on the line of their retreat. Could they only win their
way to that kopje, a rearguard action might be fought from there which
would cover the escape of at least a portion of the force. De Wet, if
he was indeed responsible for the manoeuvres of these Southern Boers,
certainly handled his small force with a discreet audacity which marks
him as the born leader which he afterwards proved himself to be.
If the position of the Boers was desperate on Sunday, it was hopeless on
Monday, for in the course of the morning Lord Roberts came up, closely
followed by the whole of Tucker's Division (7th) from Jacobsdal. Our
artillery also was strongly reinforced. The 18th, 62nd, and 75th field
batteries came up with three naval 4.7 guns and two naval 12-pounders.
Thirty-five thousand men with sixty guns were gathered round the little
Boer army. It is a poor spirit which will not applaud the supreme
resolution with which the gallant farmers held out, and award to Cronje
the title of one of the most grimly resolute leaders of whom we have any
record in modern history.
For a moment it seemed as if his courage was giving way. On Monday
morning a message was transmitted by him to Lord Kitchener asking for a
twenty-four hours' armistice. The answer was of course a curt refusal.
To this he replied that if we were so inhuman as to prevent him from
burying his dead there was nothing for him save surrender. An answer was
given that a messenger with power to treat should be sent out, but in
the interval Cronje had changed his mind, and disappeared with a
snarl of contempt into his burrows. It had become known that women and
children were in the laager, and a message was sent offering them a
place of safety, but even to this a refusal was given. The reasons for
this last decision are inconceivable.
Lord Roberts's dispositions were simple, efficacious, and above all
bloodless. Smith-Dorrien's brigade, who were winning in the Western army
something of the reputation which Hart's Irishmen had won in Natal, were
placed astride of the river to the west, with orders to push gradually
up, as occasion served, using trenches for their approach. Chermside's
brigade occupied the same position on the east. Two other divisions
and the cavalry stood round, alert and eager, like terriers round a
rat-hole, while all day the pitiless guns crashed their common shell,
their shrapnel, and their lyddite into the river-bed. Already down
there, amid slaughtered oxen and dead horses under a burning sun, a
horrible pest-hole had been formed which sent its mephitic vapours over
the countryside. Occasionally the sentries down the river saw amid the
brown eddies of the rushing water the floating body of a Boer which
had been washed away from the Golgotha above. Dark Cronje, betrayer of
Potchefstroom, iron-handed ruler of natives, reviler of the British,
stern victor of Magersfontein, at last there has come a day of reckoning
for you!
On Wednesday, the 21st, the British, being now sure of their grip of
Cronje, turned upon the Boer force which had occupied the hill to the
south-east of the drift. It was clear that this force, unless driven
away, would be the vanguard of the relieving army which might be
expected to assemble from Ladysmith, Bloemfontein, Colesberg, or
wherever else the Boers could detach men. Already it was known that
reinforcements who had left Natal whenever they heard that the Free
State was invaded were drawing near. It was necessary to crush the
force upon the hill before it became too powerful. For this purpose the
cavalry set forth, Broadwood with the 10th Hussars, 12th Lancers, and
two batteries going round on one side, while French with the 9th and
16th Lancers, the Household Cavalry, and two other batteries skirted the
other. A force of Boers was met and defeated, while the defenders of the
hill were driven off with considerable loss. In this well-managed affair
the enemy lost at least a hundred, of whom fifty were prisoners. On
Friday, February 23rd, another attempt at rescue was made from the
south, but again it ended disastrously for the Boers. A party attacked
a kopje held by the Yorkshire regiment and were blown back by a volley,
upon which they made for a second kopje, where the Buffs gave them
an even rougher reception. Eighty prisoners were marched in. Meantime
hardly a night passed that some of the Boers did not escape from their
laager and give themselves up to our pickets. At the end of the week we
had taken six hundred in all.
In the meantime the cordon was being drawn ever tighter, and the fire
became heavier and more deadly, while the conditions of life in that
fearful place were such that the stench alone might have compelled
surrender. Amid the crash of tropical thunderstorms, the glare of
lightning, and the furious thrashing of rain there was no relaxation of
British vigilance. A balloon floating overhead directed the fire, which
from day to day became more furious, culminating on the 26th with the
arrival of four 5-inch howitzers. But still there came no sign from the
fierce Boer and his gallant followers. Buried deep within burrows in the
river bank the greater part of them lay safe from the shells, but
the rattle of their musketry when the outposts moved showed that the
trenches were as alert as ever. The thing could only have one end,
however, and Lord Roberts, with admirable judgment and patience, refused
to hurry it at the expense of the lives of his soldiers.
The two brigades at either end of the Boer lines had lost no chance of
pushing in, and now they had come within striking distance. On the night
of February 26th it was determined that Smith-Dorrien's men should try
their luck. The front trenches of the British were at that time seven
hundred yards from the Boer lines. They were held by the Gordons and
by the Canadians, the latter being the nearer to the river. It is worth
while entering into details as to the arrangement of the attack, as the
success of the campaign was at least accelerated by it. The orders were
that the Canadians were to advance, the Gordons to support, and the
Shropshires to take such a position on the left as would outflank any
counter attack upon the part of the Boers. The Canadians advanced in
the darkness of the early morning before the rise of the moon. The front
rank held their rifles in the left hand and each extended right hand
grasped the sleeve of the man next it. The rear rank had their rifles
slung and carried spades. Nearest the river bank were two companies (G
and H.) who were followed by the 7th company of Royal Engineers
carrying picks and empty sand bags. The long line stole through a pitchy
darkness, knowing that at any instant a blaze of fire such as flamed
before the Highlanders at Magersfontein might crash out in front of
them. A hundred, two, three, four, five hundred paces were taken. They
knew that they must be close upon the trenches. If they could only creep
silently enough, they might spring upon the defenders unannounced. On
and on they stole, step by step, praying for silence. Would the gentle
shuffle of feet be heard by the men who lay within stone-throw of them?
Their hopes had begun to rise when there broke upon the silence of the
night a resonant metallic rattle, the thud of a falling man, an empty
clatter! They had walked into a line of meat-cans slung upon a wire. By
measurement it was only ninety yards from the trench. At that instant a
single rifle sounded, and the Canadians hurled themselves down upon the
ground. Their bodies had hardly touched it when from a line six hundred
yards long there came one furious glare of rifle fire, with a hiss like
water on a red-hot plate, of speeding bullets. In that terrible red
light the men as they lay and scraped desperately for cover could see
the heads of the Boers pop up and down, and the fringe of rifle barrels
quiver and gleam. How the regiment, lying helpless under this fire,
escaped destruction is extraordinary. To rush the trench in the face of
such a continuous blast of lead seemed impossible, and it was equally
impossible to remain where they were. In a short time the moon would be
up, and they would be picked off to a man. The outer companies upon the
plain were ordered to retire. Breaking up into loose order, they made
their way back with surprisingly little loss; but a strange contretemps
occurred, for, leaping suddenly into a trench held by the Gordons, they
transfixed themselves upon the bayonets of the men. A subaltern and
twelve men received bayonet thrusts--none of them fortunately of a very
serious nature.
While these events had been taking place upon the left of the line,
the right was hardly in better plight. All firing had ceased for the
moment--the Boers being evidently under the impression that the whole
attack had recoiled. Uncertain whether the front of the small party on
the right of the second line (now consisting of some sixty-five Sappers
and Canadians lying in one mingled line) was clear for firing should
the Boers leave their trenches, Captain Boileau, of the Sappers, crawled
forward along the bank of the river, and discovered Captain Stairs
and ten men of the Canadians, the survivors of the firing line, firmly
ensconced in a crevice of the river bank overlooking the laager, quite
happy on being reassured as to the proximity of support. This brought
the total number of the daring band up to seventy-five rifles.
Meanwhile, the Gordons, somewhat perplexed by the flying phantoms who
had been flitting into and over their trenches for the past few minutes,
sent a messenger along the river bank to ascertain, in their turn, if
their own front was clear to fire, and if not, what state the survivors
were in. To this message Colonel Kincaid, R.E., now in command of the
remains of the assaulting party, replied that his men would be well
entrenched by daylight. The little party had been distributed for
digging as well as the darkness and their ignorance of their exact
position to the Boers would permit. Twice the sound of the picks brought
angry volleys from the darkness, but the work was never stopped, and
in the early dawn the workers found not only that they were secure
themselves, but that they were in a position to enfilade over half a
mile of Boer trenches. Before daybreak the British crouched low in their
shelter, so that with the morning light the Boers did not realise the
change which the night had wrought. It was only when a burgher was shot
as he filled his pannikin at the river that they understood how their
position was overlooked. For half an hour a brisk fire was maintained,
at the end of which time a white flag went up from the trench. Kincaid
stood up on his parapet, and a single haggard figure emerged from the
Boer warren. 'The burghers have had enough; what are they to do?' said
he. As he spoke his comrades scrambled out behind him and came walking
and running over to the British lines. It was not a moment likely to
be forgotten by the parched and grimy warriors who stood up and cheered
until the cry came crashing back to them again from the distant British
camps. No doubt Cronje had already realised that the extreme limit
of his resistance was come, but it was to that handful of Sappers and
Canadians that the credit is immediately due for that white flag which
fluttered on the morning of Majuba Day over the lines of Paardeberg.
It was six o'clock in the morning when General Pretyman rode up to Lord
Roberts's headquarters. Behind him upon a white horse was a dark-bearded
man, with the quick, restless eyes of a hunter, middle-sized, thickly
built, with grizzled hair flowing from under a tall brown felt hat. He
wore the black broadcloth of the burgher with a green summer overcoat,
and carried a small whip in his hands. His appearance was that of a
respectable London vestryman rather than of a most redoubtable soldier
with a particularly sinister career behind him.
The Generals shook hands, and it was briefly intimated to Cronje that
his surrender must be unconditional, to which, after a short silence,
he agreed. His only stipulations were personal, that his wife, his
grandson, his secretary, his adjutant, and his servant might accompany
him. The same evening he was despatched to Cape Town, receiving those
honourable attentions which were due to his valour rather than to his
character. His men, a pallid ragged crew, emerged from their holes and
burrows, and delivered up their rifles. It is pleasant to add that, with
much in their memories to exasperate them, the British privates treated
their enemies with as large-hearted a courtesy as Lord Roberts had shown
to their leader. Our total capture numbered some three thousand of the
Transvaal and eleven hundred of the Free State. That the latter were not
far more numerous was due to the fact that many had already shredded
off to their farms. Besides Cronje, Wolverans of the Transvaal, and the
German artillerist Albrecht, with forty-four other field-cornets and
commandants, fell into our hands. Six small guns were also secured. The
same afternoon saw the long column of the prisoners on its way to Modder
River, there to be entrained for Cape Town, the most singular lot of
people to be seen at that moment upon earth--ragged, patched, grotesque,
some with goloshes, some with umbrellas, coffee-pots, and Bibles, their
favourite baggage. So they passed out of their ten days of glorious
history.
A visit to the laager showed that the horrible smells which had been
carried across to the British lines, and the swollen carcasses which
had swirled down the muddy river were true portents of its condition.
Strong-nerved men came back white and sick from a contemplation of the
place in which women and children had for ten days been living. From end
to end it was a festering mass of corruption, overshadowed by incredible
swarms of flies. Yet the engineer who could face evil sights and
nauseous smells was repaid by an inspection of the deep narrow trenches
in which a rifleman could crouch with the minimum danger from shells,
and the caves in which the non-combatants remained in absolute safety.
Of their dead we have no accurate knowledge, but two hundred wounded in
a donga represented their losses, not only during a bombardment of ten
days, but also in that Paardeberg engagement which had cost us eleven
hundred casualties. No more convincing example could be adduced both of
the advantage of the defence over the attack, and of the harmlessness
of the fiercest shell fire if those who are exposed to it have space and
time to make preparations.
A fortnight had elapsed since Lord Roberts had launched his forces from
Ramdam, and that fortnight had wrought a complete revolution in the
campaign. It is hard to recall any instance in the history of war where
a single movement has created such a change over so many different
operations. On February 14th Kimberley was in danger of capture, a
victorious Boer army was facing Methuen, the lines of Magersfontein
appeared impregnable, Clements was being pressed at Colesberg, Gatacre
was stopped at Stormberg, Buller could not pass the Tugela, and
Ladysmith was in a perilous condition. On the 28th Kimberley had
been relieved, the Boer army was scattered or taken, the lines of
Magersfontein were in our possession, Clements found his assailants
retiring before him, Gatacre was able to advance at Stormberg, Buller
had a weakening army in front of him, and Ladysmith was on the eve of
relief. And all this had been done at the cost of a very moderate loss
of life, for most of which Lord Roberts was in no sense answerable. Here
at last was a reputation so well founded that even South African warfare
could only confirm and increase it. A single master hand had in an
instant turned England's night to day, and had brought us out of that
nightmare of miscalculation and disaster which had weighed so long upon
our spirits. His was the master hand, but there were others at his
side without whom that hand might have been paralysed: Kitchener the
organiser, French the cavalry leader--to these two men, second only to
their chief, are the results of the operations due. Henderson, the most
capable head of Intelligence, and Richardson, who under all difficulties
fed the army, may each claim his share in the success.