When that part of the Pretoria town
commando to which my brother Frits and I belonged left for the Natal
boundary on September 30, 1899, we were all very enthusiastic, as could be
seen from the nice new suits, the new shining guns, and the sleek horses.
Many ladies had come to the station to see us off, and we were proud of
having the opportunity to fight for our country. Our departure seemed then
to us a great occasion, we were inexperienced in war. We had not yet learnt
that one could pass unscathed through many a fierce battle. We knew nothing
of 'retreating' and we knew all about the enemy with whom we were to come in
contact. We imagined that several sharp engagements would take place--that
these would be decisive battles in which many of our men would be killed,
and therefore the parting with relatives and friends was sad indeed.
Our Field-Cornet, Melt Marais, had
told us that we had nothing to see to except provisions for a day or two, as
Government would supply us with all necessaries at Zandspruit, where the
commandos were to concentrate; so many of us took neither pots, pans, nor
mugs.
What a disillusion it was to find on
our arrival at Zandspruit that there were no tents, and as yet no provisions
of any kind! So we were initiated by having to pass the first nights of our
commando life on the open veld with insufficient food. And in the daytime
our work was cut out for us, as every other minute our horses
disappeared--lost among the thousands of horses that all looked exactly
alike in the eyes of an inexperienced townsman. Then it meant a running and
seeking, an examining of marks and tokens, until the stupid among us were
obliged to tie ribbons to our horses as a means of recognising them. And
one, the story goes, even tied a nosebag, with a bundle of forage, to his
mount so that it should not run away.
At length the provisions began to
arrive, but the pots and pans were still scarce and we could not even drink
a cup of coffee till a tin of jam or meat had been emptied.
We were just beginning to feel
comfortable, when the time stated in the ultimatum expired, and we had to
cross the boundary of Natal. General Erasmus was at the head of our
commando. We spent the night near Volksrust in a cold hail storm and rain.
Those first days we are not likely to forget. They were wet, cold days, and
we were still unaccustomed to preparing our own food and looking after
ourselves. Fortunately, we had the opportunity, a few days later, of
supplying ourselves with all necessaries at Newcastle.
Before we crossed the boundary
General Erasmus had addressed us and told us the news of our first
victory--the taking of an armoured train at Kraaipan; at that time we still
made a fuss about such a trifle. Also, in those days, we still looked up
with respect to our leaders.
Ds. Postma, who accompanied us
everywhere, led us in prayer. Not one of the burghers seems to have known
where the enemy were. We advanced slowly and carefully, as we expected _to
meet with the enemy at any moment_; but we saw no signs of them until we
came to Dundee. After a rest of a few days we undertook the momentous
expedition to the mountains of Dundee, to the north of the town.
Towards evening we got the order to
'prepare for three days.' For three days! And we had not even provisions
enough for one. But we understood that there could not yet be a proper
commissariat, and we fought for our country willingly, convinced of the
justice of our cause; so we 'prepared' cheerfully.
Before the commando started, a
terrible thunderstorm came on that slowly passed over and was followed by a
gentle rain. We rode hard in the dark, through dongas, past farms and
houses, zigzagging in a half-circle, to the mountains of Dundee. No sound
was to be heard except the dull thud of the hoofs of the galloping horses.
Now and again we whispered to each other how delightfully we were going to
surprise the enemy. When the horses came to a sudden pause, and an
inexperienced rider, owing to a presentiment of evil, involuntarily uttered
his wish to 'halt,' we turned upon him angrily and called him 'traitor.' We
did not then know that we were far beyond earshot of the enemy. It stopped
raining, and towards morning we reached the mountains; and after we had with
great difficulty got our horses on to the mountains, we had to await the
dawn in the cold, drenched to the skin. A mackintosh is of small service in
such a rain. When the day dawned we led our horses higher up. A thick fog
had come on. General Lucas Meyer was to begin the attack on the west, and we
were to surprise the enemy from the heights.
When the roar of cannon announced
the battle, we were full of enthusiasm, but General Erasmus forbade anyone
to move on before the fog lifted. It was quite possible that the fog might
be only on the mountain-tops, because of their great height, and that we
would have clear weather as soon as we began to descend, therefore several
of our men begged General Erasmus to be allowed to go on ahead as scouts.
But he was very much against it, and said that the enemy might cut off our
retreat, and 'if the enemy surround us it is all up with us,' said he. As
soon as the roar of the cannon ceased, we withdrew some distance into the
mountains to let our horses graze. But we had only just off-saddled, when
from all sides came the cry of 'Saddle! saddle!' and from our left, in the
valley, came the sound of firing. A detachment of 250 khakies, probably
knowing nothing of our whereabouts, and intending to pass round the
mountains and attack Lucas Meyer in the rear, was compelled to surrender in
a few moments, after first having sought cover in a kraal near a house.
We remained three days on the Dundee
mountains, and during all that time there was a steady drizzle, with
intervals of hail and wind. Once when it cleared up for a few hours we got
the order to attack the town, but it began to rain again, and that night we
had to keep our positions in the intense cold, without any covering.
Fortunately, the enemy abandoned their camp that night, and when we looked
down upon the town next morning the khakies had vanished. We had only the
preceding day placed our cannon in a position to command the camp.
When we returned to our saddles, the
horses had strayed so far that it took us almost all day to get them back.
My uncle, Paul Mare, formerly Volksraad member for Zoutpansberg, treated us
to kaboe-mealies (roasted maize), the first we had on commando, and we ate
with great relish.
Meanwhile the commando had left. We
followed, and entered Dundee, where we helped ourselves hungrily to the good
things from the shops placed at the disposal of the commandos.
In an unorganized army looting is a
necessary evil. There are always some of the lower classes who are the
ringleaders, and when the commandos reach a house or farm that has already
been looted, they join in the looting 'because the burghers are on commando,
and they must be well supplied with all necessaries, so as to be able to
fight well.' So we reasoned, and we joined in the looting. I can affirm, to
the honour of our burghers, that it was not our intention to plunder, and in
the beginning much was done to prevent it. The lower class Uitlander, who
joined us for the sake of booty, and not for love and sympathy towards us,
was largely responsible for the bad name we got among right-minded people
who did not know the facts of the case. It was the same as regards theft. If
anyone missed his horse, he had but to look for it among the 'Irish corps,'
or some other Uitlander corps, and unless he knew his beast well he would
fail to recognise it, as both mane and tail would have been cut short by the
thief. I do not wish to pretend that _we_ were always free from blame. It
has happened that the Uitlander got a very poor horse in exchange for his
thoroughbred because a Boer had tied the token of recognition to his own
horse and made off with the better one. The truth is that very few men are
proof against the demoralizing influence of war, and I will not deny that
this war has shown up our many faults; but in my tale I shall be able to
take up the cudgels for my people in cases where the rest of the world
turned from us because they were disappointed in their expectations of us.
After our departure from Dundee the
looting went on freely. Then we began to witness the devastation that is the
irremediable consequence of war. Here and there a house had been completely
plundered. At Glencoe Junction I entered the stationmaster's house, a
well-furnished house with beautiful pictures, books, and mirrors. Some
massive silver mugs and other articles of value were lying about. The family
had only just dined, for the cloth was still laid. I ate of the food on the
table, wrote a letter home with pen and ink, and left the house. Later on,
when I returned, it had been thoroughly looted and some of the mirrors
smashed. There were many of the riff-raff, Kaffirs and coolies in the
neighbourhood, and in all probability they had done the mischief.
When our commando left Dundee to
move in the direction of Ladysmith, part of the Pretoria town commando was
sent to reinforce Lucas Meyer, who was to follow the troops fleeing from
Dundee with his commando. My brother and I went with it. A terrible
thunderstorm came on just then, and during the whole march to Ladysmith it
rained heavily. Every moment we expected to come up with the troops, but
they had too great a start, and we did not overtake them at all. We were too
late again. An English General has said that 'the Boers are brave, and make
good plans, but are always twenty-four hours late.' That can be explained in
this way. We were accustomed to fighting against Kaffirs, who hid in woods
and mountains, and against whom we had to advance with the utmost
precaution, so as to lose as few lives as possible. So we were too cautious
in the beginning of the war. We would not make a great sacrifice to win a
battle.
On October 30 we were present, under
Lucas Meyer, at the battle near Ladysmith, but we did not come into action,
as we belonged to a part of the commando that had to hold a position to
prevent attack in the rear. The enemy did not attack our position at all,
except with a few bombs, because they suffered a great defeat near
Modderspruit, and had to retreat hurriedly. From our positions we could see
how every time the bombs burst among them the fleeing troops seemed to get 'mazed'
for a moment, and then went forward again.
At that time we were often in want
of food. One must have suffered hunger to know what it means. In a few linen
bags I had some biscuits that had first been reduced to crumbs through the
riding, and then to a kind of pap by the rain and perspiration of the horse.
Often when I felt the pangs of famine I added some sugar to this mess and
ate it with relish.
Some days later we left Lucas Meyer
and returned to our commando, which had meanwhile gone to the north of
Ladysmith. During our absence Zeederberg had taken the place of Melt Marais
as Veld-Cornet.
