I will not describe our retreat, as
nothing of importance occurred. We were constantly on the alert to move
before the cunning French entrapped us within the circle that he was trying
to draw around us.
At Trichardsfontein Malherbe and I
had to go in search of our horses, which had strayed, so we were separated
from our commando for some days. When we found our horses we went to Ermelo,
and stayed there until the enemy were so close upon us that General Louis
Botha, who happened to be at Ermelo, and knew of our arrival, sent to say
that we must leave the town. We then joined his force and rode to Spion Kop.
'In the land of the blind the
one-eyed is king!' Even so it was with Spion Kop of the Hoogeveld Ermelo.
During the three years of my University life in that distant little country
that stands by us now so well in our need, I often climbed a hill about the
size of Spion Kop. That hill is famed for its height throughout the whole
country, and bears the formidable name of 'the Amersfoort Mountain.'
While the officers were holding a
council of war, Malherbe and I rode off to our commando. At Klipstapel we
were allowed a few days' breathing time, and there we prepared for the night
attack on Smith-Dorrien's camp, to the north of us. But our guide lost his
way in the dark, and we had to return. It was decided, nevertheless, to
attempt the attack the following night at Chrissiesmeer, where the camp was
then. We had everything in our favour. We were a strong force of many
commandos, and the enemy's force was not much larger.
That evening we were placed in quite
a different order from the usual one. The men of each corporal's division
rode next to each other. The Commandant or Veld-Kornet at the head, followed
by the corporal with his ten or fifteen men riding abreast, was followed by
the next corporal riding abreast with his men, etc. On looking back from the
top of the hill in the moonlight, one saw a broad dark mass of fierce,
determined men. Nearly every burgher had one or two extra horses, mostly
mares with foals, that we had commandeered and trained during our retreat on
the Hoogeveld. At that time every horse, trained or untrained, was put to
use. It was a pity that the mares with their foals were not left behind, as
they made a terrible noise with their whinnying. We walked our horses; we
were not allowed to utter a word or to light our pipes--that was reasonable;
but the neighing of the horses was not exactly in accordance with our
silence. Every now and again, when the whinnying of the mares was at its
worst, some burgher or other would give vent to an exclamation of
impatience. Every now and again someone or other would light his pipe,
taking care that neither the Veld-Kornet nor the enemy should see it. A dead
silence reigned everywhere, broken only by the mares and their foals. These
beasts caused us great uneasiness, but so did the order we received that we
had to shoot sharp at the beginning of the attack, but then slowly, until it
became light, so as to save some of our ammunition in case of need. We had
to attack in the dark then. But what if the enemy, prepared for our arrival,
were to pepper at us unexpectedly from a different direction, or to point
their Maxims at us?
The greatest mistake of all was that
we took our horses right up to the hill on the other side of which the
khakies were. The horses were tired and had ceased neighing, but we should
have left them some miles behind and walked on to make the attack as soon as
it was light. An uncle of mine told me that he saw some men on horseback
riding over the bull, whom he took to be our spies, but they were of course
the enemy's guard.
When we had tethered our horses at
the foot of the bult, we climbed up slowly, but before we could fall into
position the enemy opened a sharp fire at us. We charged shouting 'Hurrah!'
in wild enthusiasm, and fired as fast as we could straight ahead. The sparks
flew up some twenty paces in front of us, and even after the fight we could
not tell whether they came from our own guns or from those of the enemy. At
intervals we heard the tick-tick-tick of a small Maxim, but owing to the
dark we were not mown down. Some of the burghers threw themselves down
behind us, and involuntarily one thought of the proverb, 'to hide in
another's blood.' Whenever the firing slackened a few of our brave men
charged, shouting out encouraging words, and again raised our enthusiasm.
Both burghers on my right and on my left were wounded. The latter had a most
demoralizing influence on the rest of the men, as he lay groaning and
moaning in a heart-rending way. He was only slightly wounded, and eventually
escaped on horseback. Our brave Commandant Botman went forward ten paces
beyond the rest in his enthusiasm, and served as a target for the enemy. He
was severely wounded, but walked back without a moan and fell down close
behind me. I did not even know that he was wounded. I turned round to see if
the burghers behind me would not take the initiative in the inevitable
flight, as I was ashamed to take it upon myself. I did not take it at all
amiss, therefore, when I saw several men looking round to see if the way
were clear, and darting like an arrow back to their horses, for all round us
our men were being shot down, and we did not know where the enemy's camp
was, nor could we tell the effect of our shooting in the dark. A slight fog
had arisen, through which the moon occasionally succeeded in dimly
appearing. The day had dawned; we reached our horses in the greatest
disorder, and heightened the confusion by shouting inquiries to each other
after friends and relatives. Some did not wait to find their horses, but
fled on foot; others jumped on strange horses. Some even escaped on khaki
horses that had strayed from the camp.
As my brother and I galloped off, a
man fell wounded close behind us, and the bullet struck the ground between
us. The burghers rallied at a farm in the neighbourhood of the enemy's camp.
Some of our men fled on, but most of them retreated with the guns to the
commissariat trolleys, many without saddle, mackintosh or blanket, more
hopelessly impoverished than ever, but not discouraged, for although the
attack had been repulsed we were not defeated.
In this lay our strength, that we
were not disheartened by our defeats, but were able constantly to rally and
to renew the attack. We kept on exhausting the enemy by slight skirmishes
that are not worth relating, but their effect on the whole weakened him and
strengthened us.
On our side that day there were
forty wounded, but only a few killed. It grieved us all that Commandant
Botman had remained behind on the battle-field. He was universally liked for
his bravery and for his simple Christianity. To our great joy, we heard
later on that he had recovered, and had somehow succeeded in reaching
Krugersdorp. Fortunately, the fog prevented the enemy from doing us much
harm, and towards afternoon our cannon put a stop to their advance.
The attack on Smith-Dorrien's camp
was worthy of a better result. In this, as well as in the Hekpoort and
Boesmanskop battles, where also we had no position, the burghers showed
great courage and goodwill. In my opinion, the officers should have given up
the plan of attack after we had missed our way the night before and been
obliged to return. The Kaffirs and traitors must have warned the enemy of
our intention to attack, so that they could be in readiness for us.
The enemy were now all round us. We
heard the firing of cannon on all sides, but that same night we undertook a
cunning backward movement, and when the enemy closed their cordon an hour
later the bird had flown. We were careful to avoid a repetition of Cronje's
experience.
The burghers were very anxious about
our lager. We had left it on Brown's farm on the Wilgeriver, when our
commando advanced towards Boesmanskop. How the lager escaped I do not know,
for we heard that the enemy were advancing from all sides--Standerton,
Middelburg, etc. But we reached it in safety the very night that we slipped
through the enemy's cordon.
We were now safely on our way back
to Rustenburg, and had to leave General French with his 30,000 or 40,000 men
to drive along helpless women and children, and all the cattle he could lay
hands on. Commandant-General Louis Botha had strictly forbidden the women to
leave their farms after the Battle of Boesmanskop, so that the enormous
woman lager received no new additions.
Many of the farms were burned down,
but some families had been left unmolested, because they said the enemy were
ill at ease, owing to a rumour that General Beyers was going to attack them
in the rear. The partly-burned granaries bore evidence to the great hurry
the enemy were in. On some farms the very rooms that contained grain were
set on fire.
Our constant retreat had a most
demoralizing influence. This was felt even in our conversation and our
expressions. We called this retreating 'kamping,'[A] and it became one of
our most common expressions in our daily life. For 'Let us go!' we said 'Let
us kamp!' or for 'This evening we start!' we said 'This evening we go on the
kamp!' A typical expression was 'kamping' for our independence, when we
could no longer withstand the enemy. If anyone boasted of his loyalty to his
country and people, he merely said that he had 'kamped' along with the
burghers wherever they had 'kamped.' We used in our conversation many
military terms; for instance, 'to change one's position' was 'to go and lie
with your saddle on another place.' 'I shall mauser you' meant 'I shall
strike you.'
At Grootpan General Beyers again
joined us, after having done the enemy some harm at Boksburg. He addressed
us and explained his reason for countermanding the attack on Krugersdorp. He
had told the secret to a few of his officers, who made it public property,
so that the enemy had heard of it and were prepared for the attack.
Moreover, a great fault of the
burghers had come to light at Nooitgedacht--namely, that they shirked their
duty in their eagerness for plunder. He was afraid that if they took the
town their plundering spirit would get the better of them and so give the
enemy a chance of catching them or putting them to flight. Lastly he said
that he was going to act in opposition to the orders received from the
Commandant-General, and would send the Zoutpansbergers and Waterbergers home
that evening, as it was impossible for them in their condition to undertake
any military operations. He himself also was going home, but would return
after a few weeks, as a large commando, led if possible by himself, was to
invade Cape Colony.
Kemp was made fighting General; the
Rev. Mr. Kriel left with General Beyers; Klaassen took the place of Kemp,
and Liebenberg was appointed Field-Cornet of our commando.
The return to their homes of the
Waterbergers and Zoutpansbergers roused a feeling of dissatisfaction in us.
Owing to the horse-sickness in those regions, and the home-sickness of the
men themselves, we concluded that we were not likely to see them again. We
also thought it would have been better to have invaded the Colony long ago,
instead of aimlessly wandering about the Hoogeveld as we had been doing. In
all probability our Generals put off the invasion as long as possible
because many of the men--nearly all the Waterbergers and Zoutpansbergers--were
against it. Such were the difficulties against which our Generals had to
fight.
In private, both Kemp and Beyers
acknowledged to me that a march into the Colony was strictly necessary. I do
not mean to criticise, but only to give an idea of the spirit reigning among
the burghers at that time.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote A: 'Trappers.']
