The horsemen rode generally two by
two, partly in front of the waggons as advance-guard, and behind as
rear-guard, each corporal with his men in his place by his Veld-Kornet. The
Krugersdorpers were no longer allowed to leave their places before they had
permission from their corporal. Even those burghers who were most disorderly
in the beginning now saw the necessity of discipline, and were obedient to
the commands of their officers.
It was a mixed crew of old and
young. But the majority were still in the prime of life, and proof against
the privations of guerilla life. The old men among us were all men whose
powerful constitutions were yet unbroken. It was praiseworthy of them that
in their old age they were willing to suffer the difficulties and dangers of
a wandering life for their country's sake, for although their constitutions
were strong, they were susceptible to cold and damp, the effects of which
they could not shake off. There were also many brave little boys, who were
thus early initiated into the privations of commando life; but they shared
all bravely, in a careless spirit of adventure.
Here and there were some Uitlanders
who had remained faithful to us. All the others had gradually disappeared,
either because they were taken prisoners, or killed through their somewhat
foolhardy courage, or because they had left the country in disappointment.
The townspeople were by no means superior to the farmers. There were
traitors and 'hands-uppers' among them as well. We have been bitterly
disappointed in people of all classes, but particularly in the so-called
'gentlemen.'
Our condition and appearance were
indeed striking. During the heat of the day, when the dust lay thickly about
us, we sat in our ragged clothes, with shaggy, uncombed beards, on our poor,
hardly-treated ponies, meekly staring in front of us, seemingly indifferent
to the moral hurt that we were suffering and the physical pain that we felt
in all our limbs after a long, tiring ride. At the start of one of our
journeys an animated conversation sometimes helped to pass the time, but it
soon flagged, leaving us staring in front of us in the usual dispirited,
dull way. Our talk became daily more prosaic and superficial. We had not the
energy to express our deepest sentiments, and things which were formerly
pleasant were strange to us now. We had no spur to enliven our thoughts in
our monotonous life. To the careless there was nothing startling in this
moral numbness, but the more sensitive among us grieved over it, and were
humiliated by the shallowness that had come into our lives.
The small necessaries of our
material existence had become essential to our happiness. If we lost a
knife, or if a pot or kettle broke, or a mug was stolen from us, we were
depressed for days, as if a heavy blow had fallen upon us. It was not easy
to fight against that bitter feeling of depression. Our only safety lay in
the fact that we were conscious of the demoralizing effect of these small
disappointments of commando life, for to know one's self is always the first
step towards conversion.
Some qualities of our highest nature
were systematically suppressed. We prided ourselves on our fierce hatred of
the enemy, and considered it a mark of patriotism, and we rejoiced when he
fell beneath our bullets or when the plague broke out. We even wished that a
great European war might begin, if only we might keep our country, and as a
consequence of our righteous patriotism an inclination to cruelty became one
of the predominant traits in the character of the burghers.
The commando life tended to make
many of us melancholy. Wherever we came the thought was forced upon us that
our beloved country was deeply injured, morally and materially. We ourselves
saw everywhere homes and fields destroyed, women and children taken away by
force, and cattle stolen; and rumours told of the most terrible outrages
committed upon helpless women and children. If it were not that one becomes
hardened to all outward impressions, our commando life would have been
pitiful indeed. So we became hardened to almost all these things, but the
thought of the ill-treatment of those dear to us, on whose happiness our own
happiness depends, was constantly with us, and to that we did not become
hardened.
It is impossible to enter into the
sufferings of the married men. Much was suffered in silence. Some men got
messages from their wives imprisoned in refugee camps, bidding them
surrender for the sake of their wives, since fighting was of no avail and
the country was already lost. Who shall blame the man who rides away with an
anxious heart to his wife and children, no matter what the consequences may
be to himself? Another woman, with a different disposition and a different
heart, sends word secretly to her husband that life in the prison camp is
endurable, and that he must fight to the end. Then he stays, and proves
himself worthy of the courage of his wife.
Some men gave the impression that
they were indifferent to the suffering of wife and child. These were the
scum of our people, who in time of peace were not of much importance, but
were necessary for our fight. But the majority, by far the greater majority,
were men who, even in the most troubled times, were faithful to the comrades
with whom they began this struggle, the struggle for our independence.
Whenever we came to a 'uitspanplek'
(a place where there is water to be found for the horses), some of us had to
seek hurriedly for wood to make the fire, others to fetch water, and others
to help in various ways. It was a regular struggle for existence. Those who
came first got the least disagreeable work. Wood was scarce on the Hoogeveld
where we happened to be, and the water was muddied by the first
water-carriers. When the sun was very warm we made a shelter with our guns
and our blankets. Our meals were simple. They consisted of meat and 'mealie-pap'
morning, noon, and night, often for weeks without salt. We made coffee of
burnt grain ground in a coffee-mill. During the war we learnt to drink all
sorts of coffee--of wheat, oats, barley, sweet potatoes, maize, and even of
peaches. We became so accustomed to a simple mode of life that our wants
were few indeed. Even sugar we no longer missed. And we remained healthy and
strong.
We lay in small groups round the
fires, leaning against our saddles. Our moods were brighter after our tired
bodies had had the needful refreshment and rest. The groups were often
picturesque, some of us lying at our ease with soiled books in hands, others
grouped round the fire, every now and again adding wood to the flames, and
others, again, picking mites out of the biltong with a pocket-knife.
A shower had not much effect upon
us. We were accustomed to letting our clothes dry on our bodies. Nature is
very kind to people who are day and night in the open air. If the sun did
not shine soon after a shower, we made a very deplorable appearance in our
dripping clothes. But we never grumbled. We were generally cheerful, unless
we were exhausted from fatigue.
We suffered most on those long
nights when, for some reason or other, we could not sleep, for many of the
burghers were troubled with fears for their dear ones. Often, after a long
ride, we were too tired to prepare a meal, but simply flung ourselves
against our saddles and slept before we had time to let our thoughts wander.
But if the enemy were not at our heels, we often passed the long nights in
sleeplessness, gazing up at the stars with the most bitter feelings in our
hearts. No wonder that many a burgher grew gray. We were often kept awake by
the tethered horses stumbling among the groups. Sometimes a man would jump
up and strike at them till all the others awoke, too, and then there was
great hilarity in the quiet of the night.
Sometimes a constant rain cast a
shadow over the sunny Hoogeveld and made our lives sombre and almost
unbearable. Then our tattered garments could not dry on our bodies, and
everything about us was wet and dirty. Even in dry weather fuel was almost
unattainable, for the treeless Hoogeveld had been almost exhausted by the
many large commandos which had visited the 'uitspan' places. In wet weather
it was almost an impossibility to make a fire.
Whoever had an ailment passed
unpleasant nights then; each night meant a nail in his coffin. Even the
constant rain the burghers bore cheerfully, and many a joke was passed along
during an interval in the downpour. But in the morning, as we dragged our
weary limbs out of our mud-baths, shivering from cold, we did not venture to
put the conventional question, 'Did you sleep well?' to each other.
The spirit among the burghers was
very different from what it had been. No swearing was heard, and quarrelling
was exceptional. Thefts, too, were seldom committed. We called ourselves
'sifted'; traitors and thieves had gone over to the stronger party. I do not
believe that any European army would have kept its moral tone so high under
such demoralizing circumstances as did that small army of Boers with the
help of their religion. Whereas in time of peace there was much difference
in churches, especially in the Transvaal (although no difference in belief),
now, during the war, the unity of belief in one Bible had become the means
of raising the moral tone of the burghers.
During the last few months a plague
had come amongst us that we had heard much about, and now caused us much
trouble--a plague of lice. It is not an edifying subject, but anyone can
understand how the itching caused many a sleepless night. We were not to
blame. When we no longer were able to change our clothes, we could not guard
against the vermin that had become a plague among the huge wandering armies
of the enemy. Although we boiled our clothes, to our horror the nits
appeared again.
