Outbreak of Rinderpest in Griqualand West and Bechuanaland in 1896 Tends to
Conflict with the Natives. The Capture of Phokwani—Major Plumer Raises a
Regiment for Service in Matabeleland—My Second Meeting with Major, then
General Plumer in 1908—Kimberley's Gratitude to the Loyal North Lancashire
Regiment for its Services During the Siege—My Speech on Making the
Presentation.
In
1896 rinderpest attacked the cattle in Griqualand West and Bechuanaland, and
threatened to spread to the old Cape Colony. To prevent such a catastrophe
the Government decided to destroy all cattle on farms on which this pest
existed, and to compensate the farmers by giving them Ł4 per head for every
animal put out of its misery. This was only half the value, but it was not
an illiberal amount in view of the dread nature of the disease. Once it made
its appearance on the farm, it was almost certain that, unless a miracle
happened, the whole herd would be wiped out.
As
a precautionary measure, the Government stationed guards on the north bank
of the Orange River to prohibit the movement of cattle across this
particular piece of territory. This action fortunately prevented the spread
of the rinderpest to the old Colony, and the white farmers were completely
satisfied with the trend of events. Unfortunately, many natives in the
Bechuanaland area—the proud possessors of their own stock— resented and
resisted the move, not realising that it was to their own benefit to accept
the proffered terms.
To
settle the argument a force of twenty-five mounted police were sent to
Phokwani, a reserve of which Galishwe was Chief. The natives remained
obdurate. They would not listen to reason, and refused to allow the police
to destroy their cattle, despite the fact that the disease had already
decimated a portion of their herds.
Resenting the presence of this small force, the natives attacked the police
in overwhelming numbers, and in their wild dash a varied assortment of
weapons were used, including firearms and assegais. So serious was the
position that the police were forced to make an orderly retirement to
Schaapfontein, a small outpost some three miles distant, which they
fortified as best they could. Here they were besieged for several days until
the Government was compelled to send another force of mounted men to relieve
the small beleagured garrison. But, despite all efforts to calm the hostile
natives, they still showed fight, and the relieving force proved much too
weak to rescue their comrades in distress. I was at this time in command of
the Griqualand West Brigade, and before long I received orders to send 100
infantry and two guns to reinforce the police already on the scene. It later
transpired that my men, under the command of Major Peakman, together with
the Cape Mounted Police, managed to relieve the police shut up in
Schaapfontein, but they did not prove strong enough to advance and capture
Galishwe's kraal.
While I was watching the entraining of my small force at the Kimberley
railway station, I received an urgent telegram from " Defence," Cape Town,
which I read, countermanding the order for the despatch of the two guns,
which were by now on the point of being trucked. I hastily transferred the
telegram into my trousers pocket, and after witnessing the guns and the
small contingent steam out of the station, I returned to the Drill Hall.
Here I sat down and hurriedly drafted a telegram to "Defence," pointing out
that I regretted that the instruction not to send the guns had arrived too
late.
It
was early on the morning of December 26, 1896, that I received an order to
proceed to Phokwani with the Griqualand West Brigade so as to advance and
capture the Chief's stad, in conjunction with the force already in the
vicinity. I was also told that ammunition, tents, waterproof sheets and all
the necessary military equipment had left King Williams Town the previous
day in a truck attached to a passenger train due to reach Kimberley at noon
the following day.
Everything was in readiness to move off at 2 p.m. The railway authorities
had provided accommodation for all the men, and it was arranged that the
truck containing supplies should be hooked on to the troop train proceeding
to Phokwani siding. The passenger train arrived in Kimberley to time, but,
alas, the commissariat truck failed to put in an appearance. I telegraphed
to every station master along the route, but received the same reply in
every case—it was not to be found.
After a delay of precious hours, I wired to the Senior Officer of Supplies,
who now informed me with great regret that through some misunderstanding the
truck had not left. To have adequately expressed my feelings at that
particular moment would have made me liable to a trial by court martial. It
was not advisable to keep the men hanging about the station for thirty-six
hours, and a still more awkward part of the business was a shortage of
ammunition. Could I take men on active service with only a few rounds each?
Anxious inquiries elicited the information that a local gunsmith and a big
storekeeper held stocks of .303 ammunition, so, without authority, I at once
bought the lot. The risk of being personally surcharged was nothing to me as
compared with the urgency of the situation.
All ranks were by now becoming impatient. They were anxious to leave for
their battleground in view of the knowledge that a Mr. Blum, a storekeeper
of Phokwani, and his two white assistants and servants were in danger of
being murdered. Consequently, there was a shout of general satisfaction when
the train steamed out of Kimberley on its sixty-nine mile journey at 10 p.m.
I
must not forget to mention, however, that an hour before we moved off I
received a telegram from "Defence," Cape Town, couched in the following
terms:
"As the operations in Bechuanaland appear to be assuming serious
proportions, Lieutenant-Colonel Sprenger of the Permanent Force has been
appointed to take command."
At
the time this officer was in Queenstown, and could not have arrived in
Kimberley in less than forty-eight hours. He was actually a major in the
Cape Mounted Rifles, but had been appointed temporary lieutenant-colonel.
The idea apparently was that he should be my senior in relative rank, as I
held the same rank in the Volunteer Force.
I
lost no time in showing this message to my second-in-command, Major
Finlayson, who expressed his disgust at its tone, his bilingual outburst
being in both English and Scotch. " What is the meaning of this despicable
message, Colonel ?" he said heatedly. "What do you intend doing in the
matter?" "Major," I replied, "here, surely, politics are meddling in
military matters. The Government knows that I must go to the seat of the
disturbance at once. In the event of my engaging the enemy and meeting with
a reverse they will sacrifice me by saying I should have remained inactive
by waiting till Lieutenant-Colonel Sprenger had reached the scene of
operations. They want to be in a position to save their own skins, no matter
what happens. I am determined to give Galishwe a 'licking' before Sprenger
can possibly arrive."
The next day Phokwani was captured, and the same night Galishwe's main
kraal, with its many huts, was burnt. But, sad to relate, Mr. Blum and his
white assistants had been cruelly and cowardly murdered a few days before
the Griqualand West Brigade had moved off from Kimberley.
Colonel Sprenger never reached the scene of fighting, as the order was
subsequently countermanded. After the capture of Phokwani I received
reliable information that Galishwe was in hiding at Taungs, a large native
village dominated by Chief Molala. I telegraphed the news to the Government,
and urged that the force under my command should march the sixteen miles
through the night, surround Taungs, and demand the surrender of the
fugitive. I also proposed that warning should be issued to Molala that if he
refused to surrender Galishwe, his village would be destroyed.
But, rather unwisely, the Government did not approve of my suggestion, as
there was no desire, they stated, to alarm loyal natives. Galishwe
subsequently made good his escape to the Lange-berg mountains, where he was
harboured by another native chief. It afterwards cost the country Ł400,000,
and the loss of many valuable lives, before the notorious native leader was
run to earth. He was tried at the criminal sessions at Kimberley, and was, I
think, sentenced to five years' imprisonment with hard labour. He was lucky
to escape with such a light punishment. He was undoubtedly deserving of the
death sentence, as it was through his instrumentality that Mr. Blum and his
assistants were done to death.
After an absence of three weeks the brigade returned to Kimberley, where
they were accorded an enthusiastic reception by the residents of the town.
The Mayor addressed the troops, and in an eloquent and flattering speech
thanked them for the services they had rendered.
Shortly after the cessation of hostilities in Bechuanaland, I had occasion
to visit Cape Town. While there I called on the Secretary for Defence,
Colonel Homan Folliott, to draw his attention to the serious negligence of
the Commissariat and Ordnance Departments in not doing their duty at a most
critical time. I was also anxious to hear some explanation of the message I
had received when on the point of going to the front.
The colonel, alarmed at my representations, requested me not to officially
report the delay in forwarding ammunition and equipment, because, he said,
the officer in charge of these departments was shortly to be pensioned, and
any such complaint might possibly decrease the emolument he would receive.
So I allowed the matter to drop.
The question, however, of being superseded at a critical moment still
rankled in my mind, and I was determined to get some explanation of what I
felt to be an indignity and a want of confidence. I thereupon handed the
colonel the offending telegram, and said sharply " This is a nice
encouraging message to send to an officer on the eve of going on active
service. I could easily have read it to mean that I had to remain in
Kimberley with my contingent until the arrival of Sprenger. Had I done that,
and the small force at Phokwani had met with a reverse, I would have been
blamed by the Government, the military authorities and the public. I am
surprised, sir, that a soldier should have sent such a discouraging message
at such a critical time." The Colonel's eyes lit up. "My dear Harris," he
said, "the Prime Minister insisted on my sending you the telegram after I
had strongly urged him not to do so. I even remarked at the time to Sir
Gordon Sprigg, 'if Harris is the man I take him to be he will finish the job
before Sprenger can get there'."
Knowing Sir Gordon as I did, I feel sure that the message must have been
sent after consultation with the Military Secretary. Colonel Folliott was a
diplomat. I will say no more, for he has long since gone to his everlasting
rest.
Major Plumer, of the York and Lancaster Regiment, was deputed to raise an
irregular mounted regiment for service in Matabeleland. He arrived in
Kimberley early in 1896 just as I was leaving with the Griqualand West
Brigade for a fortnight's training at Cradock. I gave him the use of my
office as a recruiting depot.
On
my return from the manoeuvres, the Major told me that very few men had come
forward. This I could well understand, as most of the volunteers inclined to
go on active service were members of my force, and had only just returned
from the Colony. I promised to help him all I could, being most anxious to
assist Rhodes in stamping out the rebellion, which might otherwise have
proved fatal to his schemes. Sir Gordon Sprigg would not allow a Cape
contingent to proceed to Rhodesia, as he feared that if the forces there met
with a reverse it might react on the Cape. He consequently felt obliged to
retain all the Colonial forces at his disposal to meet such an emergency.
As
Commanding Officer, I had the power, in ordinary times, to give men six
months' leave of absence without reference to headquarters. I therefore
consented to 130 members of all ranks of the Diamond Fields Horse going on
six months' leave. Their coming forward gave a great impetus to recruiting.
Within a few weeks, Plumer secured the required number, and they were
despatched to Mafeking in batches. Here they received their horses, and were
put through their final course of training.
It
struck me at all times that Plumer was very thorough in all he did. On one
occasion he showed me a list he had prepared of what he thought was
necessary to provide for the long march of over 500 miles. He had all the
details thoroughly worked out, even to the number of mules, wagons, spare
horses, food and fodder that would be required. He had not forgotten much.
He invited me to offer suggestions, and I did so in a few sentences. He
thanked me and took my advice, without considering it infra dig to accept
tips from an amateur. Indeed, his attitude was quite unlike that of many
other regular officers I have met in my time, who, more often than not,
carry an air of superiority even above that of a Field Marshal.
Plumer's great difficulty concerned saddles and bridles. He was 150 short of
the actual requirements, and he could not secure any more, having purchased
all available supplies. I managed, however, to assist him to obtain the
required number; I need not here disclose how this was done. These supplies
were all replaced at the end of hostilities. The "trick" inconvenienced
nobody, nor were there any losses; in fact, it was a case of "new saddlery
for old."
When the last batches of men had left Kimberley, Plumer proceeded to
Mafeking to put the finishing touches to the coming campaign. Earl Grey, who
had just been appointed Administrator of Rhodesia, and the members of his
staff, were in waiting ready to accompany Plumer's force.
At
the request of Rhodes, I visited Mafeking to discuss commissariat matters,
and to arrange transport with certain contractors, which I succeeded in
doing. Messrs. Weil Brothers placed some rooms at the disposal of Earl Grey
and staff, so we all lived together in a limited space.
After dinner one evening, Earl Grey said to me confidentially, "Harris, what
do you think of Plumer?" I must be pardoned for telling my readers that in
mufti Plumer was not the beau ideal of a military man. This thought was
probably running through the Earl's mind when he put the question to me. My
answer was, "I have never served under him, and I do not know whether he has
been on active service, but from what I have seen of him he knows his job.
He is very thorough in every detail, and is not above seeking information
and taking advice. Above all, he is an English gentleman." I added that it
was not always the officer who waxed his moustache who made the best
soldier. As quick as lightning, Earl Grey inquired, "How about the
eyeglass?" (Plumer usually wore one). "Well," I answered, "The two bravest
officers I had the honour to serve under in the early Native Wars were
Colonels Owen Lanyon and Charles Warren, and they both wore monocles."
The Earl informed me that early the next morning one squadron was leaving
for the front, and before departing would be addressed by Plumer. He said he
would be glad if I would ride over with him, and tell him what I thought of
matters. The next day we rode to the parade ground where the squadron was
drawn up with transport, ready to march. Well-mounted and beautifully
groomed, Plumer dashed up in uniform. He looked and played the part, and he
addressed the men in a few well-chosen words. He saw that everything was in
apple-pie order, inspected the wagon lists, and gave a nod to the Captain
indicating his satisfaction. Then the command was given— "Fours right,"
"Walk march," and off went the 100 men on their long and arduous march.
After we had cheered them, Lord Grey, turning round to me, said, "Well,
Harris, what's your opinion now: I replied, "He'll do." His Lordship
answered, "I agree."
Colonel Plumer was good enough to mention my name in the book he wrote on
the Matabele campaign.
The next time I saw Plumer was in Ireland, in July, 1908. He was a general
then, and was in command at the Curragh, where the Loyal North Lancashire
Regiment was stationed at the time.
In
addition to presenting Colonel Kekewich with a sword of honour—the hilt was
studded with rough diamonds—the people of Kimberley and Beaconsfield had
subscribed a large sum of money for the purpose of presenting the Loyal
North Lancashire Regiment with replicas of the Honoured Dead Memorial
erected in Kimberley, as a token of gratitude to the regiment for the
important and gallant part it played during the siege. That intended for the
officers' mess was composed of solid silver, while that for the sergeants'
mess was of gun metal and silver. Both were excellent and artistic designs
manufactured by the Goldsmiths' Company of London. I was chosen to proceed
to Ireland to present the plate to the Loyal North Lanes, and readily
accepted the honour. Captain Humphreys, of the Kimberley Regiment,
accompanied me as A.D.C. In due course we arrived at our destination, and
were the guests of Colonel Coleridge, commanding the battalion. We had a
right royal reception. A field day was first staged for our benefit, when
all the troops—numbering about 7,000—turned out and had a hard morning's
work. The march past of all arms took place about noon—it was a wonderful
sight.
I
had an excellent view of the parade from a wagon, on which General Plumer
had erected seats. I admired most the Field Artillery when it galloped past
in batteries, and almost shook the very ground it rumbled over.
At
the end of the parade General Plumer came to me and said, "Well, Harris,
what did you think of the show?" There could be only one reply, which I
summed up in the word "Excellent." That night there was a garrison mess
dinner, limited to officers of certain rank. I was the guest of the evening,
and my health was drunk after General Plumer had spoken flatteringly about
me. It was a great evening, which I shall never forget.
The following day it was announced that I would officially present the plate
to the Loyal North Lanes. The weather was ideal, and reminded me of a sunny
autumn morning in South Africa. The regiment paraded in full strength,
wearing scarlet tunics. A hollow square was formed, and both brass and fife
bands turned out. The latter band beat the drums which had been captured in
the Crimea, and which I was informed had not been used publicly for thirty
years, but which were brought out on this red-letter day.
The plate was placed on a table, and I delivered the following address:
"
Colonel Coleridge, officers, non-commissioned officers, and men of the ist
Battalion Loyal North Lancashire Regiment, their Worships the Mayors and
citizens of Kimberley and Beaconsfield have deputed me to present to your
Battalion this plate, models of the structure erected in Kimberley to the
sacred memory of those gallant and heroic men who fell in the defence of the
towns of Kimberley and Beaconsfield, while besieged during the late Boer
War. Included among the honoured names inscribed on the tablets are several
non-commissioned officers and men of your Battalion who fell fighting for
their Queen and country—a far more eloquent tribute than words would convey
to the sacrifice and devotion of your Battalion in preventing a British town
falling into the hands of the enemy. Your Battalion had at that time for its
Commanding Officer, Colonel (now Major-General) R. G. Kekewich, whose
untiring and ceaseless efforts and devotion to duty, powers of organisation
and determination were great factors in the defence of the two townships.
You will remember that the citizens of Kimberley and Beaconsfield presented
Major-General Kekewich with a beautiful sword of honour in recognition of
the great services he had rendered—a compliment that was highly appreciated
by Major-General Kekewich and his regiment. Your regiment has rendered noble
service to the Empire in many lands, and in several hard fought battles it
has covered itself with glory; but I make bold to say that it never did a
greater service than did its ist Battalion in the defence of Kimberley, for
without its help the town could not have withstood the siege, and if
Kimberley had fallen, revolt would have spread, there would have been a
general rising in the Cape Colony, and in all probability South Africa would
have been lost to the Empire. Kimberley and Beaconsfield will never forget
what they owe to your regiment. They will always bear in affectionate and
grateful memory the invaluable services of your Battalion, and they will
carefully and reverently preserve and maintain the graves of your comrades
who fell in the defence of the towns, and they ask you to accept this plate
as a sentimental recognition of heartfelt gratitude and warm admiration for
services rendered and heroism displayed by your Battalion both in relieving
the town and in defending the hearths and homes of the inhabitants."
Colonel Coleridge in accepting the presentation said:
"On behalf of Lieut-General Sir Richard Farren and the officers and
sergeants of this Battalion, I beg to thank you Col. Harris and Captain
Humphreys, and through you the Mayors and citizens of Kimberley and
Beaconsfield, for their kind thoughts so tangibly expressed. The event of
this day will, if possible, concrete the good feelings that already exist
between all members of this Battalion and the citizens of Kimberley and
Beaconsfield.
It
is, sir, the hope of all, that the wave of depression passing over South
Africa will soon disappear, and that Kimberley will thus be restored to its
former prosperity. I will read letters of apology from my Colonel, Lieut-General
Sir Richard Farren, and Major-General Kekewich, and the sentiments they
express are fully endorsed by all ranks of this Battalion."
During the afternoon there was a big garden party. Marquees were erected,
refreshments were provided, and the bands played. This function was attended
by the officers and ladies of the garrison, and was a brilliant affair, the
like of which I had never before witnessed. The weather held good
throughout, which lent additional pleasure to the proceedings.
After official farewells, Captain Humphreys and I left the following day for
England, via Dublin, in an Irish jaunting car. When about half way on the
main road of the Camp, thousands of soldiers in fatigue dress rushed from
the side turnings of the cantonments, and gave us cheer after cheer. This
send-off must have been prearranged. We halted for a few moments to
acknowledge the great compliment, and then drove off hurriedly as we had
little spare time in which to catch our train Then a second surprise awaited
us, for at the end of the roads massed bands were stationed out of sight.
When we got abreast of them, they struck up "For he's a jolly good fellow,"
and other popular numbers. It was a wonderful send-off, fit for a King. We
galloped all the way to the railway station, and just managed to catch our
train.
I
had travelled 14,000 miles to make the presentation, but the kindness,
courtesy and hospitality received more than repaid me for so long a journey.
The Major Plumer of 1896 is now Field Marshal Lord Plumer. Good luck to him!
