During the first week of May, 1901, we split up into two sections, and left
Blackwood Camp early in the evening. General Muller took one section over
the railway line near Brugspruit, whilst I took the other section across
near Balmoral Station. We naturally kept as far from the blockhouses as
possible, quietly cut the barbed-wire fences stretched all along the line,
and succeeded in crossing it without a shot being fired. To split up into
two sections was a necessary precaution, first because it would have taken
the whole commando too long to cross the line at one point, and secondly, we
made more sure of getting at least one section across. Further, had the
enemy encountered one of the sections they would probably have concluded
that that was our whole force.
We
halted about six miles from the railway-line, as it was now 2 o'clock in the
morning. I ordered a general dismount, and we were at last able to light up
our pipes, which we had been afraid of doing in the neighbourhood of the
railway for fear of the lights being seen by the enemy. The men sat round in
groups, and smoked and chatted cheerfully. We passed the rest of the night
here, and with the exception of the sentinels on duty, all were able to
enjoy a refreshing sleep, lying down, however, with their unsaddled horses
by their side, and the bridles in their hands—a most necessary and useful
precaution. Together with my adjutant, Nel, I made the round of the
sentries, sitting a few moments with each to cheer them up and keep them
awake; for there is nothing to which I object more than to be surprised by
the enemy, when asleep.
The few hours of rest afforded us passed very quickly, and at the first
glimmer of dawn I ordered the men to be called. This is simply done by the
officers calling "Opzâal, opzâal" (saddle-up) in loud tones. When it was
light enough to look round us we had the satisfaction of seeing that all was
quiet and that no troops were in the immediate neighbourhood. We made for a
place called Kroomdraai, about halfway between Heidelberg and Middelburg,
where we knew there were some mealies left; and although we should be
between the enemy's camps there, I felt there would be no danger of being
disturbed or surprised.
I
also sent a report to the Commandant-General, who was at that time with the
Government near Ermelo, and described to him all that had happened. I
received a reply some days later, requesting me to leave my commando at
Kroomdraai and proceed to see him, as an important Council of War was to be
held between the various generals and the Government.
Four days later I arrived at Begin der Lijn ("beginning of the line") on the
Vaal River, south-east of Ermelo, accompanied by three of my adjutants, and
reported myself to the Commandant-General.
Simultaneously with my arrival there came two British columns, commanded by
our old friend Colonel Bullock, whose acquaintance we had previously made at
Colenso. They came apparently with the idea of chasing us, possibly thinking
to catch us. This was far from pleasant for me. I had been riding post-haste
for four days, and I and my horse were very tired and worn out. However,
there was no help for it. I had barely time to salute the members of the
Government, and to exchange a few words with General Botha, when we had to
"quit." For eight days we wandered round with Colonel Bullock at our heels,
always remaining, however, in the same neighbourhood. This officer's tactics
in trying to capture us were childishly simple. During the day there would
be skirmishes between the enemy and General Botha's men, but each evening
the former would, by retiring, attempt to lull us into a sense of security.
But as soon as the sun had set, they would turn right about face, return
full speed to where they had left us, and there would surround us carefully
during the night, gallantly attacking us in the morning and fully expecting
to capture the whole Boer Government and at least half a dozen generals.
This was a distinct nuisance, but the tactics of this worthy officer were so
simple that we very soon discovered them. Accordingly, every evening we
would make a fine pretence of pitching our camp for the night; but so soon
as darkness had set in, we would take the precaution of moving some 10 or 15
miles further on. Next morning Colonel Bullock, who had been carefully
"surrounding" us all night, would find that we were unaccountably absent.
Much annoyed at this, he would then send his "flying" columns running after
us. This went on for several days, until finally, as we expected, his horses
were tired out, and I believe he was then removed to some other garrison,
having been considered a failure as a "Boer-stalker." No doubt he did his
best, but he nevertheless managed his business very clumsily.
Not until nine days after my arrival at this perambulating seat of
Government did we have an opportunity of snatching a few hours' rest. We
were now at a spot called Immegratie, between Ermelo and Wakkerstroom. Here
a meeting was held by the Executive Council, and attended by the
Commandant-General, General Jan Smuts, General C. Botha, and myself. General
T. Smuts could not be present, as he was busy keeping Colonel Bullock
amused.
At
this meeting we discussed the general situation, and decided to send a
letter to President Steyn, but our communication afterwards fell into the
enemy's hands. In accordance with this letter, President Steyn and Generals
De Wet and De la Rey joined our Government, and a meeting was held later on.
The day after this meeting at Immegratie I took leave of my friends and
began the journey in a more leisurely fashion back to my commando at
Kroomdraai, via Ermelo and Bethel. The Acting-President had made me a
present of a cart and four mules, as they pitied us for having had to burn
all our vehicles in escaping from Roos Senekal. We were thus once more
seated in a cart, which added considerably to the dignity of our staff. How
long I should continue to be possessed of this means of transport depended,
of course, entirely on the enemy. My old coloured groom "Mooiroos," who
followed behind leading my horse, evidently thought the same, for he
remarked naďvely: "Baas, the English will soon fix us in another corner; had
we not better throw the cart away?"
We
drove into Ermelo that afternoon. The dread east wind was blowing hard and
raising great clouds of dust around us. The village had been occupied about
half a dozen times by the enemy and each time looted, plundered, and
evacuated, and was now again in our possession. At least, the English had
left it the day before, and a Landdrost had placed himself in charge; a
little Hollander with a pointed nose and small, glittering eyes, who between
each sentence that he spoke rolled round those little eyes of his, carefully
scanning the neighbouring hills for any sign of the English. The only other
person of importance in the town was a worthy predicant, who evidently had
not had his hair cut since the commencement of the War, and who had great
difficulty in keeping his little black wide-awake on his head. He seemed
very proud of his abundant locks.
There were also a few families in the place belonging to the Red Cross staff
and in charge of the local hospitals. One of my adjutants was seriously
indisposed, and it was whilst hunting for a chemist in order to obtain
medicine that I came into contact with the town's sparse population. I found
the dispensary closed, the proprietor having departed with the English, and
the Landdrost, fearing to get himself into trouble, was not inclined to open
it. He grew very excited when we liberally helped ourselves to the
medicines, and made himself unpleasant. So we gave him clearly to understand
that his presence was not required in that immediate neighbourhood.
Our cart was standing waiting for us in the High Street, and during our
absence a lady had appeared on the verandah of a house and had sent a
servant to enquire who we were. When we reappeared laden with our booty she
graciously invited us to come in. She was a Mrs. P. de Jager and belonged to
the Red Cross Society. She asked us to stay and have some dinner, which was
then being prepared. Imagine what a luxury for us to be once more in a
house, to be addressed by a lady and to be served with a bountiful repast!
Our clothes were in a ragged and dilapidated condition and we presented a
very unkempt appearance, which did not make us feel quite at our ease. Still
the good lady with great tact soon put us quite at home.
We
partook of a delicious meal, which we shall not easily forget. I cannot
remember what the menu was, and I am not quite sure whether it would compare
favourably with a first-class café dinner, but I never enjoyed a meal more
in my existence, and possibly never shall.
After dinner the lady related to us how on the previous day, when the
British entered the village, there were in her house three convalescent
burghers, who could, however, neither ride nor walk. With tears in her eyes
she told us how an English doctor and an officer had come there, and
kicking open the doors of her neatly-kept house, had entered it, followed by
a crowd of soldiers, who had helped themselves to most of the knives, forks,
and other utensils. She tried to explain to the doctor that she had wounded
men in the house, but he was too conceited and arrogant to listen to her
protestations. Fortunately for them the men were not discovered, for the
English, on leaving the village, took with them all our wounded, and even
our doctor. With a proud smile she now produced this trio, who, not knowing
whether we were friend or foe, were at first very much frightened.
I
sympathised with the lady with respect to the harsh treatment she had
received the previous day, and thanking her for her great kindness, warned
her not to keep armed burghers in her house, as this was against the Geneva
Convention.
We
told her what great pleasure it was for us to meet a lady, as all our women
having been placed in Concentration Camps, we had only had the society of
our fellow-burghers. Before leaving she grasped our hands, and with tears
in her eyes wished us God speed:—"Good-bye, my friends! May God reward your
efforts on behalf of your country. General, be of good cheer; for however
dark the future may seem, be sure that the Almighty will provide for you!" I
can scarcely be dubbed sentimental, yet the genuine expressions of this good
lady, coupled perhaps with her excellent dinner, did much to put us into
better spirits, and somehow the future did not seem now quite so dark and
terrible as we were previously inclined to believe.
We
soon resumed our journey, and that night arrived at a farm belonging to a
certain Venter. We knew that here some houses had escaped the general
destruction and we found that a dwelling house was still standing and that
the Venter family were occupying it. It was not our practice to pass the
night near inhabited houses, as that might have got the people in trouble
with the enemy, but having off-saddled, I sent up an adjutant to the house
to see if he could purchase a few eggs and milk for our sick companions. He
speedily returned followed by the lady of the house in a very excited
condition:—
"Are you the General?" she asked.
"I
have that honour," I replied. "What is the matter?"
"There is much the matter," she retorted loudly. "I will have nothing to do
with you or your people. You are nothing but a band of brigands and
scoundrels, and you must leave my farm immediately. All respectable people
have long since surrendered, and it is only such people as you who continue
the War, while you personally are one of the ringleaders of these rebels."
"Tut, tut," I said, "where is your husband?"
"My husband is where all respectable people ought to be; with the English,
of course."
"'Hands-uppers,' is that it?" answered my men in chorus, even Mooiroos the
native joining in. "You deserve the D.S.O.," I said, "and if we meet the
English we will mention it to them. Now go back to your house before these
rebels and brigands give you your deserts."
She continued to pour out a flood of insults and imprecations on myself,
the other generals, and the Government, and finally went away still
muttering to herself. I could scarcely help comparing this patriotic lady to
the one in Ermelo who had treated us so kindly. I encountered many more such
incidents, and only mention these two in order to show the different views
held at that time by our women on these matters, but in justice to our
women-folk I should add that this kind were only a small minority.
It
was a bitterly cold night. Our blankets were very thin, and the wind
continually scattered our fire and gave us little opportunity of warming
ourselves. There was no food for the horses except the grass. We haltered
them close together, and each of us took it in turn to keep a watch, as we
ran the risk at any moment of being surprised by the enemy, and as many in
that district had turned traitors, we had to redouble our precautions.
During the whole cold night I slept but little, and I fervently wished for
the day to come, and felt exceedingly thankful when the sun arose and it
got a little warmer.
Proceeding, we crossed the ridges east of Bethel, and as this village came
in sight my groom Mooiroos exclaimed: "There are a lot of Khakis there,
Baas."
I
halted, and with my field-glasses could see distinctly the enemy's force,
which was coming from Bethel in our direction, their scouts being visible
everywhere to the right and left of the ridges. While we were still
discussing what to do, the field-cornet of the district, a certain Jan
Davel, dashed up with a score of burghers between us and the British. He
informed me that the enemy's forces were coming from Brugspruit, and that he
had scattered his burghers in all directions to prevent them organizing any
resistance. The enemy's guns were now firing at us, and although the range
was a long one the ridges in which we found ourselves were quite bare, and
afforded us no cover.
We
were therefore obliged to wheel to our right, and, proceeding to Klein
Spionkop, we passed round the enemy along Vaalkop and Wilmansrust.
At
Steenkoolspruit I met some burghers, who told me that the enemy had marched
from Springs, near Boksburg, and were making straight for our commando at
Kroomdraai. We managed to reach that place in the evening just in time to
warn our men and be off. I left a section of my men behind to obstruct the
advance of the enemy, whom they met the following day, but finding the force
too strong were obliged to retire, and I do not know exactly where they got
to. At this time there were no less than nine of the enemy's columns in that
district, and they all tried their level best to catch the Boers, but as the
Boers also tried their best not to get caught, I am afraid the English were
often disappointed. Here the reader will, perhaps, remark that it was not
very brave to run away in this fashion, but one should also take our
circumstances into consideration.
No
sooner did we attack one column than we were attacked in our turn by a
couple more, and had then considerable difficulty in effecting our escape.
The enemy, moreover, had every advantage of us. They had plenty of guns, and
could cut our ranks to pieces before we could approach sufficiently near to
do any damage with our rifles; they far surpassed us in numerical strength;
they had a constant supply of fresh horses—some of us had no horses at all;
they had continual reinforcements; their troops were well fed, better
equipped, and altogether in better condition. Small wonder, therefore, that
the War had become a one-sided affair.
On
the 20th of May, 1901, I seized an opportunity of attacking General Plumer
on his way from Bethel to Standerton.
We
had effected a junction with Commandant Mears and charged the enemy, and but
for their having with them a number of Boer families we would have succeeded
in capturing their whole laager. We had already succeeded in driving their
infantry away from the waggons containing these families, when their
infantry rushed in between and opened fire on us at 200 paces. We could do
nothing else but return this fire, although it was quite possible that in
doing so we wounded one or two of our own women and children. These kept
waving their handkerchiefs to warn us not to fire, but it was impossible to
resist the infantry's volleys without shooting. Meanwhile the cavalry
replaced their guns behind the women's waggons and fired on us from that
coign of vantage.
Here we took 25 prisoners, 4,000 sheep and 10 horses. Our losses were two
killed and nine wounded. The enemy left several dead and wounded on the
field, as well as two doctors and an ambulance belonging to the Queensland
Imperial Bushmen, which we sent back together with the prisoners we had
taken.
On
this occasion the English were spared a great defeat by having women and
children in their laager, and no doubt for the sake of safety they kept
these with them as long as possible. I do not insinuate that this was
generally the case, and I am sure that Lord Kitchener or any other
responsible commanding officer would loudly have condemned such tactics;
but the fact remains that these unpleasant incidents occasionally took
place.
About the beginning of June, 1901 (I find it difficult to be accurate
without the aid of my notes) another violent effort was made to capture the
members of the Government and the Commandant-General. Colonel Benson now
appeared as the new "Boer-stalker," and after making several unsuccessful
attempts to surround them almost captured the Government in the mountains
between Piet Retief and Spitskop. Just as Colonel Benson thought he had them
safe and was slowly but surely weaving his net around them—I believe this
was at Halhangapase—the members of the Government left their carriages, and
packing the most necessary articles and documents on their horses escaped in
the night along a footpath which the enemy had kindly left unguarded and
passed right through the British lines in the direction of Ermelo. On the
following day the English, on closing their cordon, found, as they usually
did, naught but the burned remains of some vehicles and a few lame mules.
Together with the late General Spruit, who happened to be in that
neighbourhood, I had been asked to march with a small commando to the
assistance of the Government and the Commandant-General and we had started
at once, only hearing when well on our way that they had succeeded in
escaping.
We
proceeded as far as the Bankop, not knowing where to find them, and it was
no easy matter to look for them amongst the British columns.
