Before my knee was quite cured I
returned to Ladysmith. The first thing that caught my eye on my return to
the camp was the balloon above Ladysmith. It looked just like a large
crocodile-eye as it followed all my movements. When I went to look for my
horse or to fetch water or wood, there it stood, high up in the sky, and I
felt as if it kept its eye specially fixed on me, and as if I might expect a
bomb at any moment.
We had never in all our lives seen
so many flies as at Ladysmith. We had to hurry over our meals as they made
eating almost an impossibility to us. Fortunately, I was only a short time
there, as towards the end of January, 1900, part of our commando, including
my brother and myself, was sent to the Tugela as reinforcement. We had a
distance of four and a half hours to ride, and we had to ride hard, as the
enemy were determined to force their way through. We arrived the same day,
just two days after the enemy had tried to force their way through to the
right of Spion Kop and had been defeated. On nearing the high Tugela
mountains we heard more and more distinctly the constant rattling of
bullets, interrupted by the roar of the cannon and the bom-bom-bom of our
saucy bomb-Maxim, that made our hearts expand and those of the enemy shrink.
As we raced on to the foot of the mountains, the bullets that the enemy were
sending over the mountains to find the Boers raised the dust around us.
The following morning we went to lie
in a trench that had been dug by our men on a rise to the right of Spion
Kop. The previous day eight burghers had been wounded there. Red Danie
Opperman was Field-Cornet. Not far from us, to our left, stood a few of our
cannon, and facing us, to our left, on the long mountain slope, we could see
fourteen guns of the enemy's. In front of us was a large wood, and close to
that the English camp. We could see the enemy moving in great close square
masses. It was a terribly hot day; we had to lie in the trenches, as all day
long the enemy fired at us from the smaller positions facing us, at a
distance of 15,000 paces; and constantly the bombs burst over our heads. At
regular intervals a lyddite bomb--that gave us a shock through our whole
body--came from the wood towards the cannon on our left. Once only part of
our entrenchment, where, fortunately, no one happened to be, was blown to
bits.
Whenever there was a moment's pause,
we lifted our heads above the trenches to have a look at the lovely
landscape and at the positions of our enemy. That day not one of us was
wounded. Only the artillery suffered. If our few cannon ventured to make
themselves heard, eight or more bombs followed in quick succession to
silence them. Next to me lay a man whose servant, a restless, impatient
Bushman, most amicably addressed him as Johnny. The Bushman went to and fro
continually to a 'chum' of his who lay hidden behind a rock close to us.
Once, on one of his visits to his 'chum,' a bullet struck the ground close
to his heels; he stood still, looked slowly and defiantly from his heels to
the enemy, and said in a most emphatic tone, 'You confounded Englishman!'
and calmly proceeded on his way to his chum.
To the right of this position was an
open space, almost level with the immediate surroundings, but ending in a
steep decline some 900 paces further on. There we went towards evening with
a reinforcement of the Pretoria town commando that had followed us. The
Field-Cornet made us stand in rows, and told off forty men to dig a trench
that night. The rest of the men would relieve us the following night. My
brother and I were in the first shift. Towards morning, while we were still
digging at the trenches, fire was opened across the whole line of battle. We
imagined that we were being attacked, and jammed ourselves in the narrow
trench. But as the attack did not come off, and the bullets flew high over
our heads, we went on digging until daybreak. Then we noticed that the enemy
were lying in a trench about 800 paces ahead of us. We fired a few shots at
them, but saved our ammunition for an eventual storming.
The whole of that day and the two
succeeding days there was a constant salvo over our heads. The bullets flew
over our heads like finches, and did us no harm, but we had to be on our
guard against the sharpshooters, who occasionally fired close to us. That
day (January 24), the heroic Battle of Spion Kop took place, where our
burghers, after having been surprised in the night by the enemy and driven
off the kop, obliged them, after a stubborn fight, to abandon it again. The
Pretoria men, who were to have relieved us in the trench, took a great part
in that battle. Reineke, Yeppe, Malherbe, De Villiers, and Olivier were
killed. Ihrige was severely wounded.
All day long we lay listening to the
fighting, for we could not sleep. We had to stay in the trench three days
and four nights before we were relieved. Water and food were brought to us,
or fetched by our men at night, as we did not venture to leave the trench by
day. We were safe enough, for the bombs had not much effect on the
sand-walls of our trench, and there was always time to stoop to avoid them.
The following morning news was brought to us that the enemy had abandoned
the whole line of battle and were retreating in the direction of Chieveley.
The battle of the Tugela had lasted
eight days.
I had again hurt my knee, and had to
leave Ladysmith for Pretoria, from whence I went to Warmbad at Waterberg to
stay for a few weeks with Mrs. Klein-Frikkie Grobler, who received me most
kindly. My brother Frits got leave for the first time then, too, and Willem
remained at Ladysmith. During my absence the English broke through at
Pieter's Heights, where Willem was made prisoner and Luettig, Malherbe and
Stuart de Villiers were killed. Meanwhile Frits had gone, with some other
Pretoria men, to the Orange Free State, where the enemy had surrounded
General Cronje.
Since the beginning of the siege our
burghers always thought the town would fall soon. 'The khakies cannot hold
out any longer! They have no provisions, and their ammunition must be coming
to an end! Buller can never cross the Tugela, our positions are too good!
What does it matter if _I_ do go on leave? The khakies cannot get through!'
That was the opinion of most of the burghers. And if anyone ventured to
point out that the enemy _might_ force their way through because we did not
all do our duty, he was either not believed or looked upon as a traitor.
Meanwhile enthusiasm was dying out. The burghers lay in their lagers or went
home, trusting to the few willing ones, who ultimately proved not strong
enough to withstand the overwhelming force that Buller brought to bear upon
one point of our positions when he was obliged to force his way through at
no matter what cost.
No leave should have been given
during the war, and here I may as well mention--although this tale does not
pretend to be a history of the war--that it has been carried on with far too
great laxity, owing to the ignorance of our Generals and the demoralizing
influence of self-interest and nepotism. We should have sent our forces far
into the Cape Colony to get help from our brothers in a war that had been
forced upon us by England. The Colonial Afrikanders never had the
opportunity of standing by us, because we did not supply them with the
necessary ammunition or stretch out our hands towards them. Unless they had
help from our invading forces, they dared not risk a rising, because of the
confiscation of their property in case of failure.
We have had to suffer--to suffer
cruelly for our sins. Our enemy forced his way through the dyke that
surrounded us, and like a stormy sea he ruined our homes, devastated our
fields, and caused us endless suffering. Besides this, the talk of
intervention had an enervating effecton the commandos. In our commando,
which was largely composed of ignorant men, the strangest stories went
round. One was that the Russians had landed somewhere in South Africa with
100 cannon. There was always talk of a great European War having broken out;
and the consequence was that the Boers counted on intervention or help from
the Powers, instead of depending on their own strength and perseverance. The
most sensible among us recognised the improbability of intervention. It was
not to the interest of any foreign Power to intervene in South Africa where
it had no firm footing, particularly as Chamberlain had, by most cunning
artifices, forced us to be the aggressors.
War was inevitable. Sooner or later
it had to come. After the Jameson Raid, which was really the beginning of
the war, the Transvaal Government recognised the dangerous position in which
it stood, as an isolated Republic, and was therefore obliged to arm itself
with the most modern of military equipments. Before the Jameson Raid race
hatred was dying out rapidly. The consequence of the raid was that the gap
between Boer and Englishman widened, the sympathy of the Uitlanders for us
grew deeper, and the Afrikander Bond grew stronger. England's prestige in
South Africa was threatened, and with it her rank as first Power in the
world. She had to maintain her supremacy in South Africa; while for us it
had become a question of all or nothing. England has evidently succeeded in
keeping up such friendly relations with the other Powers that no
intervention seems possible.
The relief of Ladysmith took place
on February 28--a Majuba Day--a day that had been marked as a red-letter day
in our calendars. For nineteen years the enemy have longed to wipe out the
remembrance of that day, and they have done so brilliantly and malignantly.
Since that time we have been humiliated and belittled. Our fall was great.
For the first time there was a general panic. The two Republics, being
forced to venture on war against a powerful kingdom, felt themselves
staggering under the heavy blow.
