Hi
From Rhodesfamily.org
11 January 1902
FROM THE FRONT
Letter from Corporal Eric Eaton
Harrismith, Orange River Colony — November 16th
Dear mother,— As I may not get the opportunity of writing to you for some time to come, as we may go out any minute with General RANDLE for six or eight weeks, I send you a short account of our last experience. We went out 20 days ago with a fighting column under General BROADWOOD. We made a forced march to Elands River Bridge, a distance of 18 miles, in 5 hours and 20 minutes — a record for this regiment. After a rest until 9pm the same night, we started on a night march to occupy some ridges about 11 miles away. Just outside the camp was an exceedingly bad drift, and in here the mules stuck. Then the order came for the infantry to take off their equipment, and drag the wagons over the drift. Officers, sergeants, Tommies, with their tunics off, shouting, pulling, hauling, cursing and swearing like fiends.
This was carried on for five hours, and at 2.15am we were again on the move. Orders were issued that no one was to speak above a whisper, no smoking and all dogs to be tied up. Like a huge snake the column wound slowly along the tortuous route with its mounted men thrown out like feelers all around. We pounced on one farm and found that the Boar was ready to go out. His horse was ready saddled. He told Captain NOBLE that he was going shooting birds, but we thought different and he joined the prisoners. We occupied the position all the next day and night. The following morning the mounted men went out at 2am, and we left just after dawn. As we moved away a few Boers opened fire on us from a small kopje about 500 yards on our left, the Mauser rifles going flip-flop and the bullets splashing round our heels like rain for a few minutes, but no one was hit. When the mounted troops got into camp they had had a major (Major QUICKE) killed and one captain and one lieutenant wounded, all of 1st Dragoon Guards B Company. MI visited a farm on the flanks, and found one Boar, about 70, and hidden six rifles, one Cape cart, and 1,500 rounds of SA ammunition buried. That made no difference, and the next day we marched to Harrismith, camping two miles from the town. At 2pm the next day we started with a convoy to Bethlehem.
The first and second day passed as usual. On the third day we had some heavy fighting in Tiger's Kloof, but no one was hurt on our side, and we reached Bethlehem safe and sound the same night. After a day's rest we marched back, being troubled by snipers. Next morning we were escort to the wagons. Moving out early we seized a ridge just outside camp, when the Boers opened fire on sight of H Company, who were cut off. After an hour's heavy fighting we drove the Boers into some rocks, where we were firing for two hours longer, when the big guns and the pompoms came up and shifted them out. There was all the time the continuous flip-flop of the Mauser, followed by the whistle of the bullets as they passed over as we lay behind our heaps.
One of the mounted men rode across the firing line for reinforcements and ammunition, the Boers firing all the time. Two sections of F Company rode and reinforced the party already there. Leaving them there, we moved on, fighting an advance guard action. Soon after, an orderly told me that the men we had left were cut up — three killed, one officer and two men wounded, and eleven captured. One of the killed was a volunteer called BABY, and three of the captured also were volunteers. The Boers, about 150 strong, attacked the advance guard with vigour, and then moved across the plain in extended order as the pompoms opened on them.
We stopped at Elands River Bridge on our way back for the day, and there we had the worst experience in our lives, "a military funeral." I would rather be in the firing line fifty times than see those poor lads laid in the ground far from home and civilisation. The Boers had taken their boots off them and stripped the doctor at first, but returned them on finding out that he was the doctor. We sent in our prisoners — 29 in all — including an Austrian major, who was fighting for the Boers, and all our wagons, and leaving one company entrenched on a kopje near the bridge, we returned under orders to hold a line between Harrismith and Bethlehem. The same night we camped near a huge kopje on which we left another company.
We were on outpost on a ridge when a terrible hailstorm broke on us. The stones were as large as pigeon eggs, and when they hit you it was like a catapult being fired at you at a very short range. It made us dance and shout like maniacs; the pain was awful. After twenty minutes of this, during which all the horses stampeded, it slackened and finally stopped. The tents were washed out and all the beds were wet through.
We moved off early in the morning, and only marched four miles, fighting heavily all the way. We Occupied ridge after ridge, fighting all the time, the big guns and pompom going like mad. When we reached the last ridge under a big, strong kopje, we lay there for two hours, firing all the time. Captain NOBLE galloped through our line towards the next ridge, which the infantry had occupied once and retired from, being unable to see any of the enemy about. After about half an hour the sound of heavy firing came to our ears and soon after a Volunteer called FERN galloped back to us with Lieutenant HOLBARTON in his arms; he had been hit in the chest, but his bandolier saved him. Two more came in sight galloping like mad; one was a regular who was hit in the shoulder, and the other a volunteer called RUSHTON, hit in the elbow. They told us Captain NOBLE was mortally wounded.
Just then the remainder of the party retired, the Boers being not 30 yards behind them. As they appeared on the ridge we proceeded to get a little of our own back, and opened a heavy fire on them, driving them back in confusion. The ambulance and doctor went out to bring in Captain NOBLE and Jack CONNERY. The Boers, 150 strong, surrounded them, but did not hurt any of them. PRINSLOO, who was in command of them, sent word to the Colonel by the doctor that we must surrender by 6pm, or he would give us socks. Captain NOBLE died as soon as he reached the hospital, and Jack CONNERY was reported dangerously wounded.
We pitched camp and settled down for the night. We were on outpost on one ridge, and on the same kopje that Captain NOBLE was killed we could see the Boers doing sentry-go just like ourselves. About 11pm out of the darkness came a volley right into our midst, the bullets falling all round and amongst us.
For a few minutes everything was confusion in the extreme; men running all over the place, dogs barking, horses dashing about. The Boers drove some horses over the ridge into the midst of us to draw our fire, but it did not come off. After the first few minutes' excitement everybody recovered their composure and lay down, most of us without any cover. Every nerve was strained and quivering with excitement, and in every chamber was a round of ammunition waiting. Oh! Would it never be daylight! What a terrible suspense, and how long would it be to daylight. Flip-flop going like mad on the right; they were firing into the column that was moving.
When everything was quiet we retired from our ridge, and moved on to the one in rear. It seemed as though we were lost, and G Company with us. We could hear nothing but the whispering of the men and the occasional neighing of a horse in the distance. We were lost to all intents and purposes. Captain LUPTON was walking along the line as cool as a cucumber, with a revolver in his hand, encouraging his men.
We went back to the ridge we had left, and lined the ridge all night, waiting for daybreak. When morning dawned Captain LUPTON was asleep on the ground with Captain KING, both without a blanket, starved, and nearly frozen stiff. When it was properly light we found that the column had not gone more than 11/2 miles. We retired safely and got away, the Boers fighting a rear guard action. For five hours they fired at us continually, the bullets splashing round our heels like hail and whistling round our heads. One of B Company was hit in the chest by a bullet that passed over our heads, as they were in front of us all retiring.
The mounted rearguard was driven like a flock of sheep. We got away safely into camp. The next day we fought another rearguard action to Elands River Bridge. That night we received a congratulatory message from General RANDLE, and as a reward we were actually allowed to ride on wagons for about three miles the next day. When we reached Harrismith we were paraded to go to Captain NOBLE's funeral. About 200 infantry, 300 mounted men, and Generals RANDLE and DARTWELL, with their staffs — a perfect sea of ribbons — and about 50 officers of all ranks, with two bands and the drums of our regiment. I was glad when it was over, and we were marching back to camp.
All the sergeants are in hospital except myself, so duty is pretty thick. We are going out again under RANDLE, so it looks like Christmas on the veldt. I received your three parcels just as we came in, and they could not have come more opportunely. If I have not time to write again for Christmas, give my best wishes to all. — Your loving son, Eric
