It was on the morning of October 12th, amid cold and mist, that the Boer
camps at Sandspruit and Volksrust broke up, and the burghers rode to the
war. Some twelve thousand of them, all mounted, with two batteries of eight
Krupp guns each, were the invading force from the north, which hoped later
to be joined by the Freestaters and by a contingent of Germans and
Transvaalers who were to cross the Free State border. It was an hour before
dawn that the guns started, and the riflemen followed close behind the last
limber, so that the first light of day fell upon the black sinuous line
winding down between the hills. A spectator upon the occasion says of them:
'Their faces were a study. For the most part the expression worn was one of
determination and bulldog pertinacity. No sign of fear there, nor of
wavering. Whatever else may be laid to the charge of the Boer, it may never
truthfully be said that he is a coward or a man unworthy of the Briton's
steel. ' The words were written early in the campaign, and the whole empire
will endorse them to-day. Could we have such men as willing fellow-citizens,
they are worth more than all the gold mines of their country.
This main Transvaal body consisted of the commando of Pretoria, which
comprised 1800 men, and those of Heidelberg, Middelburg, Krugersdorp,
Standerton, Wakkerstroom, and Ermelo, with the State Artillery, an excellent
and highly organised body who were provided with the best guns that have
ever been brought on to a battlefield. Besides their sixteen Krupps, they
dragged with them two heavy six-inch Creusot guns, which were destined to
have a very important effect in the earlier part of the campaign. In
addition to these native forces there were a certain number of European
auxiliaries. The greater part of the German corps were with the Free State
forces, but a few hundred came down from the north. There was a Hollander
corps of about two hundred and fifty and an Irish--or perhaps more properly
an Irish-American-corps of the same number, who rode under the green flag
and the harp.
The men might, by all accounts, be divided into two very different types.
There were the town Boers, smartened and perhaps a little enervated by
prosperity and civilisation, men of business and professional men, more
alert and quicker than their rustic comrades. These men spoke English rather
than Dutch, and indeed there were many men of English descent among them.
But the others, the most formidable both in their numbers and in their
primitive qualities, were the back-veld Boers, the sunburned, tangle-haired,
full-bearded farmers, the men of the Bible and the rifle, imbued with the
traditions of their own guerrilla warfare. These were perhaps the finest
natural warriors upon earth, marksmen, hunters, accustomed to hard fare and
a harder couch. They were rough in their ways and speech, but, in spite of
many calumnies and some few unpleasant truths, they might compare with most
disciplined armies in their humanity and their desire to observe the usages
of war.
A few words here as to the man who led this singular host. Piet Joubert was
a Cape Colonist by birth--a fellow countryman, like Kruger himself, of those
whom the narrow laws of his new country persisted in regarding as outside
the pale. He came from that French Huguenot blood which has strengthened and
refined every race which it has touched, and from it he derived a chivalry
and generosity which made him respected and liked even by his opponents. In
many native broils and in the British campaign of 1881 he had shown himself
a capable leader. His record in standing out for the independence of the
Transvaal was a very consistent one, for he had not accepted office under
the British, as Kruger had done, but had remained always an irreconcilable.
Tall and burly, with hard grey eyes and a grim mouth half hidden by his
bushy beard, he was a fine type of the men whom he led. He was now in his
sixty-fifth year, and the fire of his youth had, as some of the burghers
urged, died down within him; but he was experienced, crafty, and warwise,
never dashing and never brilliant, but slow, steady, solid, and inexorable.
Besides this northern army there were two other bodies of burghers
converging upon Natal. One, consisting of the commandoes from Utrecht and
the Swaziland districts, had gathered at Vryheid on the flank of the British
position at Dundee. The other, much larger, not less probably than six or
seven thousand men, were the contingent from the Free State and a Transvaal
corps, together with Schiel's Germans, who were making their way through the
various passes, the Tintwa Pass, and Van Reenen's Pass, which lead through
the grim range of the Drakensberg and open out upon the more fertile plains
of Western Natal. The total force may have been something between twenty and
thirty thousand men. By all accounts they were of an astonishingly high
heart, convinced that a path of easy victory lay before them, and that
nothing could bar their way to the sea. If the British commanders underrated
their opponents, there is ample evidence that the mistake was reciprocal.
A few words now as to the disposition of the British forces, concerning
which it must be borne in mind that Sir George White, though in actual
command, had only been a few days in the country before war was declared, so
that the arrangements fell to General Penn Symons, aided or hampered by the
advice of the local political authorities. The main position was at
Ladysmith, but an advance post was strongly held at Glencoe, which is five
miles from the station of Dundee and forty from Ladysmith. The reason for
this dangerous division of force was to secure each end of the Biggarsberg
section of the railway, and also to cover the important collieries of that
district. The positions chosen seem in each case to show that the British
commander was not aware of the number and power of the Boer guns, for each
was equally defensible against rifle fire and vulnerable to an artillery
attack. In the case of Glencoe it was particularly evident that guns upon
the hills above would, as they did, render the position untenable. This
outlying post was held by the 1st Leicester Regiment, the 2nd Dublin
Fusiliers, and the first battalion of Rifles, with the 18th Hussars, three
companies of mounted infantry, and three batteries of field artillery, the
13th, 67th, and 69th. The 1st Royal Irish Fusiliers were on their way to
reinforce it, and arrived before the first action. Altogether the Glencoe
camp contained some four thousand men.
The main body of the army remained at Ladysmith. These consisted of the 1st
Devons, the 1st Liverpools, and the 2nd Gordon Highlanders, with the 1st
Gloucesters, the 2nd King's Royal Rifles, and the 2nd Rifle Brigade,
reinforced later by the Manchesters. The cavalry included the 5th Dragoon
Guards, the 5th Lancers, a detachment of 19th Hussars, the Natal
Carabineers, the Natal Mounted Police, and the Border Mounted Rifles,
reinforced later by the Imperial Light Horse, a fine body of men raised
principally among the refugees from the Rand. For artillery there were the
21st, 42nd, and 53rd batteries of field artillery, and No. 10 Mountain
Battery, with the Natal Field Artillery, the guns of which were too light to
be of service, and the 23rd Company of Royal Engineers. The whole force,
some eight or nine thousand strong, was under the immediate command of Sir
George White, with Sir Archibald Hunter, fresh from the Soudan, General
French, and General Ian Hamilton as his lieutenants.
The first shock of the Boers, then, must fall upon 4000 men. If these could
be overwhelmed, there were 8000 more to be defeated or masked. Then what was
there between them and the sea? Some detachments of local volunteers, the
Durban Light Infantry at Colenso, and the Natal Royal Rifles, with some
naval volunteers at Estcourt. With the power of the Boers and their mobility
it is inexplicable how the colony was saved. We are of the same blood, the
Boers and we, and we show it in our failings. Over-confidence on our part
gave them the chance, and over-confidence on theirs prevented them from
instantly availing themselves of it. It passed, never to come again.
The outbreak of war was upon October 11th. On the 12th the Boer forces
crossed the frontier both on the north and on the west. On the 13th they
occupied Charlestown at the top angle of Natal. On the 15th they had reached
Newcastle, a larger town some fifteen miles inside the border. Watchers from
the houses saw six miles of canvas-tilted bullock wagons winding down the
passes, and learned that this was not a raid but an invasion. At the same
date news reached the British headquarters of an advance from the western
passes, and of a movement from the Buffalo River on the east. On the 13th
Sir George White had made a reconnaissance in force, but had not come in
touch with the enemy. On the 15th six of the Natal Police were surrounded
and captured at one of the drifts of the Buffalo River. On the 18th our
cavalry patrols came into touch with the Boer scouts at Acton Homes and
Besters Station, these being the voortrekkers of the Orange Free State
force. On the 18th also a detachment was reported from Hadders Spruit, seven
miles north of Glencoe Camp. The cloud was drifting up, and it could not be
long before it would burst.
Two days later, on the early morning of October 20th, the forces came at
last into collision. At half-past three in the morning, well before
daylight, the mounted infantry picket at the junction of the roads from
Landmans and Vants Drifts was fired into by the Doornberg commando, and
retired upon its supports. Two companies of the Dublin Fusiliers were sent
out, and at five o'clock on a fine but misty morning the whole of Symons's
force was under arms with the knowledge that the Boers were pushing boldly
towards them. The khaki-clad lines of fighting men stood in their long thin
ranks staring up at the curves of the saddle-back hills to the north and
east of them, and straining their eyes to catch a glimpse of the enemy. Why
these same saddle-back hills were not occupied by our own people is, it must
be confessed, an insoluble mystery. In a hollow on one flank were the 18th
Hussars and the mounted infantry. On the other were the eighteen motionless
guns, limbered up and ready, the horses fidgeting and stamping in the raw
morning air.
And then suddenly--could that be they? An officer with a telescope stared
intently and pointed. Another and another turned a steady field glass
towards the same place. And then the men could see also, and a little murmur
of interest ran down the ranks.
A long sloping hill--Talana Hill--olive-green in hue, was stretching away in
front of them. At the summit it rose into a rounded crest. The mist was
clearing, and the curve was hard-outlined against the limpid blue of the
morning sky. On this, some two and a half miles or three miles off, a little
group of black dots had appeared. The clear edge of the skyline had become
serrated with moving figures. They clustered into a knot, then opened again,
and then--
There had been no smoke, but there came a long crescendo hoot, rising into a
shrill wail. The shell hummed over the soldiers like a great bee, and
sloshed into soft earth behind them. Then another--and yet another--and yet
another. But there was no time to heed them, for there was the hillside and
there the enemy. So at it again with the good old murderous obsolete heroic
tactics of the British tradition! There are times when, in spite of science
and book-lore, the best plan is the boldest plan, and it is well to fly
straight at your enemy's throat, facing the chance that your strength may
fail before you can grasp it. The cavalry moved off round the enemy's left
flank. The guns dashed to the front, unlimbered, and opened fire. The
infantry were moved round in the direction of Sandspruit, passing through
the little town of Dundee, where the women and children came to the doors
and windows to cheer them. It was thought that the hill was more accessible
from that side. The Leicesters and one field battery--the 67th--were left
behind to protect the camp and to watch the Newcastle Road upon the west. At
seven in the morning all was ready for the assault.
Two military facts of importance had already been disclosed. One was that
the Boer percussion-shells were useless in soft ground, as hardly any of
them exploded; the other that the Boer guns could outrange our ordinary
fifteen-pounder field gun, which had been the one thing perhaps in the whole
British equipment upon which we were prepared to pin our faith. The two
batteries, the 13th and the 69th, were moved nearer, first to 3000, and then
at last to 2300 yards, at which range they quickly dominated the guns upon
the hill. Other guns had opened from another crest to the east of Talana,
but these also were mastered by the fire of the 13th Battery. At 7. 30 the
infantry were ordered to advance, which they did in open order, extended to
ten paces. The Dublin Fusiliers formed the first line, the Rifles the
second, and the Irish Fusiliers the third.
The first thousand yards of the advance were over open grassland, where the
range was long, and the yellow brown of the khaki blended with the withered
veld. There were few casualties until the wood was reached, which lay
halfway up the long slope of the hill. It was a plantation of larches, some
hundreds of yards across and nearly as many deep. On the left side of this
wood--that is, the left side to the advancing troops--there stretched a long
nullah or hollow, which ran perpendicularly to the hill, and served rather
as a conductor of bullets than as a cover. So severe was the fire at this
point that both in the wood and in the nullah the troops lay down to avoid
it. An officer of Irish Fusiliers has narrated how in trying to cut the
straps from a fallen private a razor lent him for that purpose by a wounded
sergeant was instantly shot out of his hand. The gallant Symons, who had
refused to dismount, was shot through the stomach and fell from his horse
mortally wounded. With an excessive gallantry, he had not only attracted the
enemy's fire by retaining his horse, but he had been accompanied throughout
the action by an orderly bearing a red pennon. 'Have they got the hill? Have
they got the hill? ' was his one eternal question as they carried him
dripping to the rear. It was at the edge of the wood that Colonel Sherston
met his end.
From now onwards it was as much a soldiers' battle as Inkermann. In the
shelter of the wood the more eager of the three battalions had pressed to
the front until the fringe of the trees was lined by men from all of them.
The difficulty of distinguishing particular regiments where all were clad
alike made it impossible in the heat of action to keep any sort of
formation. So hot was the fire that for the time the advance was brought to
a standstill, but the 69th battery, firing shrapnel at a range of 1400
yards, subdued the rifle fire, and about half-past eleven the infantry were
able to push on once more.
Above the wood there was an open space some hundreds of yards across,
bounded by a rough stone wall built for herding cattle. A second wall ran at
right angles to this down towards the wood. An enfilading rifle fire had
been sweeping across this open space, but the wall in front does not appear
to have been occupied by the enemy, who held the kopje above it. To avoid
the cross fire the soldiers ran in single file under the shelter of the
wall, which covered them to the right, and so reached the other wall across
their front. Here there was a second long delay, the men dribbling up from
below, and firing over the top of the wall and between the chinks of the
stones. The Dublin Fusiliers, through being in a more difficult position,
had been unable to get up as quickly as the others, and most of the
hard-breathing excited men who crowded under the wall were of the Rifles and
of the Irish Fusiliers. The air was so full of bullets that it seemed
impossible to live upon the other side of this shelter. Two hundred yards
intervened between the wall and the crest of the kopje. And yet the kopje
had to be cleared if the battle were to be won.
Out of the huddled line of crouching men an officer sprang shouting, and a
score of soldiers vaulted over the wall and followed at his heels. It was
Captain Connor, of the Irish Fusiliers, but his personal magnetism carried
up with him some of the Rifles as well as men of his own command. He and
half his little forlorn hope were struck down--he, alas! to die the same
night--but there were other leaders as brave to take his place. 'Forrard
away, men, forrard away!' cried Nugent, of the Rifles. Three bullets struck
him, but he continued to drag himself up the boulder-studded hill. Others
followed, and others, from all sides they came running, the crouching,
yelling, khaki-clad figures, and the supports rushed up from the rear. For a
time they were beaten down by their own shrapnel striking into them from
behind, which is an amazing thing when one considers that the range was
under 2000 yards. It was here, between the wall and the summit, that Colonel
Gunning, of the Rifles, and many other brave men met their end, some by our
own bullets and some by those of the enemy; but the Boers thinned away in
front of them, and the anxious onlookers from the plain below saw the waving
helmets on the crest, and learned at last that all was well.
But it was, it must be confessed, a Pyrrhic victory. We had our hill, but
what else had we? The guns which had been silenced by our fire had been
removed from the kopje. The commando which seized the hill was that of Lucas
Meyer, and it is computed that he had with him about 4000 men. This figure
includes those under the command of Erasmus, who made halfhearted
demonstrations against the British flank. If the shirkers be eliminated, it
is probable that there were not more than a thousand actual combatants upon
the hill. Of this number about fifty were killed and a hundred wounded. The
British loss at Talana Hill itself was 41 killed and 180 wounded, but among
the killed were many whom the army could ill spare. The gallant but
optimistic Symons, Gunning of the Rifles, Sherston, Connor, Hambro, and many
other brave men died that day. The loss of officers was out of all
proportion to that of the men.
An incident which occurred immediately after the action did much to rob the
British of the fruits of the victory. Artillery had pushed up the moment
that the hill was carried, and had unlimbered on Smith's Nek between the two
hills, from which the enemy, in broken groups of 50 and 100, could be seen
streaming away. A fairer chance for the use of shrapnel has never been. But
at this instant there ran from an old iron church on the reverse side of the
hill, which had been used all day as a Boer hospital, a man with a white
flag. It is probable that the action was in good faith, and that it was
simply intended to claim a protection for the ambulance party which followed
him. But the too confiding gunner in command appears to have thought that an
armistice had been declared, and held his hand during those precious minutes
which might have turned a defeat into a rout. The chance passed, never to
return. The double error of firing into our own advance and of failing to
fire into the enemy's retreat makes the battle one which cannot be looked
back to with satisfaction by our gunners.
In the meantime some miles away another train of events had led to a
complete disaster to our small cavalry force--a disaster which robbed our
dearly bought infantry victory of much of its importance. That action alone
was undoubtedly a victorious one, but the net result of the day's fighting
cannot be said to have been certainly in our favour. It was Wellington who
asserted that his cavalry always got him into scrapes, and the whole of
British military history might furnish examples of what he meant. Here again
our cavalry got into trouble. Suffice it for the civilian to chronicle the
fact, and leave it to the military critic to portion out the blame.
One company of mounted infantry (that of the Rifles) had been told off to
form an escort for the guns. The rest of the mounted infantry with part of
the 18th Hussars (Colonel Moller) had moved round the right flank until they
reached the right rear of the enemy. Such a movement, had Lucas Meyer been
the only opponent, would have been above criticism; but knowing, as we did,
that there were several commandoes converging upon Glencoe it was obviously
taking a very grave and certain risk to allow the cavalry to wander too far
from support. They were soon entangled in broken country and attacked by
superior numbers of the Boers. There was a time when they might have exerted
an important influence upon the action by attacking the Boer ponies behind
the hills, but the opportunity was allowed to pass. An attempt was made to
get back to the army, and a series of defensive positions were held to cover
the retreat, but the enemy's fire became too hot to allow them to be
retained. Every route save one appeared to be blocked, so the horsemen took
this, which led them into the heart of a second commando of the enemy.
Finding no way through, the force took up a defensive position, part of them
in a farm and part on a kopje which overlooked it.
The party consisted of two troops of Hussars, one company of mounted
infantry of the Dublin Fusiliers, and one section of the mounted infantry of
the Rifles--about two hundred men in all. They were subjected to a hot fire
for some hours, many being killed and wounded. Guns were brought up, and
fired shell into the farmhouse. At 4. 30 the force, being in a perfectly
hopeless position, laid down their arms. Their ammunition was gone, many of
their horses had stampeded, and they were hemmed in by very superior
numbers, so that no slightest slur can rest upon the survivors for their
decision to surrender, though the movements which brought them to such a
pass are more open to criticism. They were the vanguard of that considerable
body of humiliated and bitter-hearted men who were to assemble at the
capital of our brave and crafty enemy. The remainder of the 18th Hussars,
who under Major Knox had been detached from the main force and sent across
the Boer rear, underwent a somewhat similar experience, but succeeded in
extricating themselves with a loss of six killed and ten wounded. Their
efforts were by no means lost, as they engaged the attention of a
considerable body of Boers during the day and were able to bring some
prisoners back with them.
The battle of Talana Hill was a tactical victory but a strategic defeat. It
was a crude frontal attack without any attempt at even a feint of flanking,
but the valour of the troops, from general to private, carried it through.
The force was in a position so radically false that the only use which they
could make of a victory was to cover their own retreat. From all points Boer
commandoes were converging upon it, and already it was understood that the
guns at their command were heavier than any which could be placed against
them. This was made more clear on October 21st, the day after the battle,
when the force, having withdrawn overnight from the useless hill which they
had captured, moved across to a fresh position on the far side of the
railway. At four in the afternoon a very heavy gun opened from a distant
hill, altogether beyond the extreme range of our artillery, and plumped
shell after shell into our camp. It was the first appearance of the great
Creusot. An officer with several men of the Leicesters, and some of our few
remaining cavalry, were bit. The position was clearly impossible, so at two
in the morning of the 22nd the whole force was moved to a point to the south
of the town of Dundee. On the same day a reconnaissance was made in the
direction of Glencoe Station, but the passes were found to be strongly
occupied, and the little army marched back again to its original position.
The command had fallen to Colonel Yule, who justly considered that his men
were dangerously and uselessly exposed, and that his correct strategy was to
fall back, if it were still possible, and join the main body at Ladysmith,
even at the cost of abandoning the two hundred sick and wounded who lay with
General Symons in the hospital at Dundee. It was a painful necessity, but no
one who studies the situation can have any doubt of its wisdom. The retreat
was no easy task, a march by road of some sixty or seventy miles through a
very rough country with an enemy pressing on every side. Its successful
completion without any loss or any demoralisation of the troops is perhaps
as fine a military exploit as any of our early victories. Through the
energetic and loyal co-operation of Sir George White, who fought the actions
of Elandslaagte and of Rietfontein in order to keep the way open for them,
and owing mainly to the skillful guidance of Colonel Dartnell, of the Natal
Police, they succeeded in their critical manoeuvre. On October 23rd they
were at Beith, on the 24th at Waselibank Spruit, on the 25th at Sunday
River, and next morning they marched, sodden with rain, plastered with mud,
dog-tired, but in the best of spirits, into Ladysmith amid the cheers of
their comrades. A battle, six days without settled sleep, four days without
a proper meal, winding up with a single march of thirty-two miles over heavy
ground and through a pelting rain storm--that was the record of the Dundee
column. They had fought and won, they had striven and toiled to the utmost
capacity of manhood, and the end of it all was that they had reached the
spot which they should never have left. But their endurance could not be
lost--no worthy deed is ever lost. Like the light division, when they
marched their fifty odd unbroken miles to be present at Talavera, they leave
a memory and a standard behind them which is more important than success. It
is by the tradition of such sufferings and such endurance that others in
other days are nerved to do the like.
