In the Shadow of Death
by P. H. Kritzinger · English · Gutenberg #16463 · 396,941 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: In the Shadow of Death
Author: P. H. Kritzinger
R. D. Mc Donald
Release date: August 7, 2005 [eBook #16463]
Most recently updated: December 12, 2020
Language: English
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Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Taavi Kalju and the Online
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[Illustration: GENERAL P.H. KRITZINGER.
_Photo by Emberon, London._]
In the Shadow of Death
BY
GENERAL P.H. KRITZINGER
AND
MR. R.D. MCDONALD
ILLUSTRATED WITH PORTRAITS AND DIAGRAMS
PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION 1904
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, DUKE STREET,
STAMFORD STREET, S.E., AND GREAT WINDMILL STREET, W.
Preface.
Several excellent works have already been written about the Anglo-Boer
War of the beginning of the twentieth century; but the field of
operations was so extensive, the duration of the war so long, and the
leaders, on the Boer side, were necessarily so independent of one
another in the operations that were conducted with one common aim, that
something of interest may well remain to be said. We have not here
chronicled our experiences and adventures in the form of a diary, but
have rather grouped together events and observations. We write as Boers,
frankly regretting the loss of that independence for which we took the
field; but also as those who wish to give no offence to any honourable
opponent. Our aim has been to do equal justice to both sides in the war;
to unite and reconcile, not to separate and embitter, two Christian
peoples destined to live together in one land.
"In the Shadow of Death" is a title the reader will hardly consider
inappropriate by the time he reaches the end of this little book.
Outnumbered on the battlefield, often exposed to the enemy's fire, and
one of us wounded and laid low on a bed of intense suffering, and then
charged before a Military Court with the greatest of crimes, we did not
dare to hope that we should live to write these pages.
And here let our cordial thanks be given to Advocate F.G. Gardiner for
his inestimable services in the hour of need, and for kindly submitting
to us the "papers" bearing on the trial.
P.H. KRITZINGER.
R.D. MCDONALD.
Contents.
CHAP. PAGE
PREFACE iii
I. ANTECEDENTS 1
II. DARK DAYS 5
III. ENGAGEMENTS 21
IV. IN TIGHT CORNERS 43
V. TO THE CAPE COLONY 56
VI. WOUNDED 70
VII. COURT-MARTIALLED 81
VIII. WHY WE SURRENDERED 102
IX. THE BOER AS SEEN IN THE LIGHT OF THE WAR 118
X. THE RISING IN THE CAPE COLONY 149
XI. WAR INCIDENTS 170
"In the Shadow of Death."
CHAPTER I.
ANTECEDENTS.
The child is father to the man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
_Wordsworth._
A few preliminary pages of personal history I offer to those who
followed me either in thought or deed during the Anglo-Boer War.
My ancestors were Germans; my grandfather was born in the South. About
the year 1820 he, along with two brothers, bade farewell to the land of
his nativity and emigrated to South Africa. They found a home for
themselves in the neighbourhood of Port Elizabeth, and there they
settled as farmers. Two of the brothers married women of Dutch
extraction; one died a bachelor. A small village, Humansdorp, situated
near to Port Elizabeth, was the birth-place of my father. There he spent
the greater part of his life. He, too, married a Dutch lady; and we
children adopted the language of our mother, and spoke Dutch rather than
German.
My father took an active part in several of the early Kaffir Wars, and
rendered assistance to the Colonial forces in subjugating the native
tribes in the Eastern Province of the Cape Colony. With rapt attention
and enthusiasm we children would listen to him as he told the tale of
those early native wars. I then thought that there was nothing so
sublime and glorious as war. My imagination was inflamed, and I longed
intensely to participate in such exciting adventures. My experience of
recent years has corrected my views. I think differently now. Peace is
better than war. War is brutal and damnable. It is indeed "hell let
loose."
On the 20th of April, 1870, the arrival of a little Kritzinger was
announced on the farm Wildeman's-Kraal, Port Elizabeth District. That
little fellow happened to be myself. I do not recollect much of the days
of my youth--save that I was of a very lively disposition, with a
fondness for all sorts of fun, and often of mischief, which landed me
occasionally in great trouble. My parents obeyed the injunctions of Holy
Writ in diligently applying the rod when they thought it necessary. As a
child, I could but dimly understand, and scarcely believe, that love was
at the root of every chastisement.
At the age of five I met with a serious accident. While gathering shells
on the beach at Port Elizabeth, the receding waves drew me seaward with
irresistible power. But for the pluck and courage of my little
playfellow, a lassie of some twelve summers, I was lost. She came to the
rescue. I was saved at the last moment: a few seconds more and I must
have perished in the deep.
In 1882 my parents, leaving Cape Colony in search of a new home in the
Orange Free State, settled down in the district of Ladybrand. It was,
however, decided that I should remain behind with an uncle. This uncle
was my godfather, and had promised to provide for my education. Having
no children, he made me his adopted son. However excellent these
arrangements might be, I resolved that I too should go to the Orange
Free State. I succeeded in persuading my brother, who had charge of the
waggons, to let me follow him on horseback under cover of darkness. I
left my uncle's home alone and at dusk on the third evening after my
brother's departure. How I felt, and in what condition I was, after
riding thirty-five miles on the bare back of a horse, I shall not
describe. My parents, who had gone ahead of the waggons, were not a
little astonished, and yet they were not angry, at the unexpected
appearance of the boy that was left behind.
On my arrival in the Free State it so happened that there was then a
dispute as to headship between two Barolong chiefs. This quarrel called
forth the intervention of the Free State Government. The burghers were
commandoed in the event of resistance on the part of the native chiefs;
and I, though a mere boy, at once offered my services to the nearest
Field Cornet. He declined to accept them on the score that I was too
young. Like David, I was loth to go back home. I borrowed an old gun,
got a horse, and off I stole to the Boer commando. The dispute was
amicably settled. Some thirty Barolongs, however, offered resistance.
Most eagerly I thus fired my first shot upon a human being. I did not
know then that it would not be the last; that I should live to hear the
mountains and hills of South Africa reverberate with the sound of
exploding shells, that the whizz of bullets would assail my ears like
the humming of bees; that a bullet would penetrate my own lungs, leaving
me a mass of bleeding clay on the battle-field. I did not know that
South Africa's plains would yet be drenched with the blood of Boer and
Briton until the very rivers ran crimson.
At the early age of seventeen I left the parental roof to earn for
myself an independent living. I went to the district of Rouxville, where
I occupied a farm situated on the Basutoland border. Several of the
Basuto chiefs I got to know well. They allowed me to purchase all I
desired from their subjects. Occupied thus with my private affairs while
years sped by, I unconsciously drifted on to the disastrous war.
My mind was never absorbed nor disturbed by the many political
controversies and problems of South Africa, not that I was indifferent
to the welfare of my people and country, for, once war was declared by
the leaders, my services were ready. I attached myself to the Rouxville
Commando, under Commandant J. Olivier, as a private burgher. When
Prinsloo surrendered, late in 1900, I was appointed Assistant-Commandant
over that portion of the Rouxville Commando which had refused to lay
down arms on Prinsloo's authority. This was my first commission in the
Boer Army. On more than one occasion I had been requested to accept
appointments; but, realising the great responsibility involved in
leadership, I preferred to fight as a private. But events pushed onward;
and on the 26th of August, 1900, when Commandant Olivier made an
unsuccessful attack on Winburg, which resulted in his capture, I was
elected in his stead, and so became Commandant of the Rouxville
Commando.
On December 16th, 1900, carrying out instructions of General De Wet, I
crossed the Orange River at a point near Odendaal's Stroom, with about
270 burghers. General De Wet was to follow me, but he was prevented. The
enemy, determined to drive me back or effect my capture, concentrated
numerous forces on my small commando. For months I was dreadfully
harassed, and had no rest day or night. But I was resolved neither to
retrace my steps nor to capitulate. How I escaped from time to time I
now tell. The Cape Colonist Boers began to come in, and my forces
increased rather than decreased. The burghers I had at my disposal I
subdivided into smaller commandos, to give employment to the enemy, so
that they could not concentrate all their forces on me. Thus, as the
Colonists rose in arms, the commandos began to multiply more and more,
until it was impossible for the British forces to expel the invaders
from the Cape Colony.
At the beginning of August, 1901, General French once more fixed his
attention on me. I was hard pressed by large forces, and had to fall
back on the Orange Free State, where I then operated till the 15th of
December. Again, and now for the last time, I forded the Orange River at
midnight, and set foot on British territory. The following day I was
wounded while crossing the railway line near Hanover Road. For about a
month I was laid up in the British hospital at Naauwpoort, whence I was
removed to Graaf Reinet gaol, and there I was confined as a criminal
until the 10th of March, 1902, when after a five days' trial for murder
I was acquitted. After my acquittal I was advanced to the honour (?) of
P.O.W. (Prisoner of War), and so remained till the cessation of
hostilities.
CHAPTER II.
DARK DAYS.
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there where most it promises.
_Shakespeare._
Up to the 27th February, 1900, the Republican arms were on the whole
successful. The Boers fought well and many a brilliant victory crowned
their efforts, and encouraged them to continue their struggle for
freedom. True, they had to sacrifice many noble lives, but that was a
sacrifice they were prepared to make for their country. Fortune smiled
on them; as yet they had met with no very serious reverses.
Magersfontein, Stormberg, Colenso, Spion Kop, were so many offerings of
scarce vanquished Boers to the veiled Goddess Liberty. But towards the
end of February, 1900, clouds gathered over the Republics. The tide of
fortune was turned; disaster after disaster courted the Boer forces;
blow after blow struck them with bewildering force. Then came the news
of Cronje's capture. No sooner had we crossed the Orange River during
the retreat from Stormberg than we learnt that stunning news of the
disaster at Paardeberg on the 27th of February--the anniversary of
Amajuba. Cronje captured--the General in whom we had placed such
implicit confidence and on whom we relied for the future! Cronje
captured--the man who had successfully checked the advance of the
English forces on Kimberley at Magersfontein; the hero of many a battle;
the man who knew no fear! His men captured--the flower and pick of the
Boer forces, with all their guns, and brave Major Albrecht as well!
Many a burgher who up to that fatal day had fought hopefully and
courageously lost hope and courage then. Some, we regret to say, were
so disconsolate that they renounced their faith in that Supreme Being in
whose hands are the destinies of nations. Their reliance on their
country's God ended with Cronje's capture, as though their deliverance
depended solely upon him. This, however, does not appear so strange when
one recollects that the Boers could not afford to lose so many of their
best men at a time when all were precious for their country's safety. As
to the siege itself, we, not having been in it, cannot enter into its
details. One of the besieged, who, in spite of a terrific bombardment
and repeated attacks by the enemy, kept a diary of the events of each
day, gives this striking description on the 10th and last day:
"Bombardment heavier than usual. The burghers are recalcitrant and
in consequence the General's authority wanes rapidly. There is
hardly any food, the remaining bags of biscuits are yellow from the
lyddite fumes, so is everything, damp and yellow. The stench of the
decomposed horses and oxen is awful. The water of the rivers is
putrid with carrion. A party of men caught three stray sheep early
on the morning of the 10th. In haste they killed them and started
to skin them desperately; but they had half done when a lyddite
shell bursting close to them turned the mutton yellow with its
fumes and it had to be abandoned reluctantly. The sufferings of the
wounded are heartrending. Little children huddled together in
bomb-proof excavations are restless, hungry and crying. The women
are adding their sobs to the plaintive exhortations of the wounded.
All the time the shelling never abates. The arena of the defenders
is veneered. Nearly every man, woman and child is lyddite-stained.
The muddy stream is yellow. The night was an awful one. For two
days the men are without food, but worse still are the pestiferous
air, the loathsome water, and the suffering of the wounded. It is
too much for flesh and blood. The morning of the 27th February saw
the first white flag hoisted by a Boer general. It was a woeful
sight when 3600 Boers, undisciplined peasants, reluctantly threw
down their rifles among the wreck of the shells and ambled past the
English lines. They had withstood the onslaught of 80,000 British
troops with modern death-dealing implements of war, and, towards
the end of the siege, about 1000 guns were brought to bear upon
them."
How far this disaster can be attributed to General Cronje is difficult
to say. The following considerations may, however, throw some light on
its causes.
During the early part of the war we hardly realised the great value and
necessity of good scouting. It was only after General Cronje and his men
had fallen into the hands of the enemy that a regular scouting corps was
organised and placed under the control of the brave Danie Therou.
Lord Roberts's forces were almost on Cronje's laager before they were
perceived, and unfortunately they were even then entirely
under-estimated and consequently thought light of. Flushed by the
victory at Magersfontein, the General did not contemplate the
possibility of such a bitter reverse. He was going to strike another
hard blow at the enemy--he did strike it, but at too great a cost. Had
he realised his position the first or second day after the siege was
begun, he might still have escaped. The convoy would have been captured,
but the men would have been saved. The old gentleman was determined to
hold all, and consequently lost all.
So far the General deserves censure and is accountable for the disaster
which had such a far-reaching and bad moral effect on the rest of the
burghers. The only sweet drop contained in the bitter cup extended to us
was the fact that Cronje and his burghers surrendered _as men_, and not
as _cowards_. Once surrounded and brought to bay they resisted every
attack with admirable fortitude and valour. Surrounded along the banks
of the Modder River, at a spot where they had no cover at all, exposed
to a terrific cannonade and charged by thousands of the enemy from time
to time, these farmers fearlessly repelled every onslaught. It was one
thing to surround them, another thing to capture them. They were not to
be taken with cold hands. The enemy, especially the Canadians, had to
pay a great price before the white flag announced Cronje's unconditional
surrender.
During the siege attempts were made by General De Wet to relieve
Cronje, but none succeeded. Several of the relieving forces, including
the pick of the Winburg Commando with Commandant Theunissen, were
themselves surrounded and captured in trying to break through the lines
of the besiegers.
To intensify the gloom, Ladysmith, which was daily expected to fall, was
relieved on the day of Cronje's surrender. For certain reasons the late
Commandant-General P. Joubert had evacuated the positions round
Ladysmith and retreated to the Biggar's Range. General Louis Botha, who
was engaging Buller's relieving forces at Colenso, was then also
compelled to retreat.
After Cronje's capture the way to Bloemfontein and Pretoria lay open.
The Boers made one more stand at Abraham's Kraal, where the enemy
suffered heavily, but carried the day by their overwhelming numbers.
After the British occupied Bloemfontein the Transvaal burghers became
reluctant to offer battle in the Free State, on the ground that there
were no positions from which they could successfully check the
ever-advancing foe. Many of the Free Staters were discouraged and
hopeless; but rest renewed their strength and zeal, and they shortly
returned to the struggles.
The second disaster which befell the two Republics was the ignominious
and cowardly surrender of Prinsloo, which took place on the 1st of
August, 1900. For various reasons this surrender was more keenly felt by
the Boers than that of Cronje. The one, though he might have blundered,
nevertheless acted the part of a brave, though obstinate, man; the other
that of a coward.
Some six weeks after the occupation of Bloemfontein the British troops
resumed their northward march, and so quickly did they advance, almost
day and night, that Pretoria was soon occupied. What this rapid movement
meant, we could not quite understand. Did Lord Roberts think that the
occupation of Pretoria would terminate hostilities? The British forces
in their swift march to the Transvaal capital left Free State burghers
behind them as they advanced. These men rallied again under General De
Wet and seriously threatened the English line of communications,
capturing seven hundred of the British at Roode Wal.
Large forces under Hector MacDonald and Bruce Hamilton recrossed the
Vaal in order to crush the Free Staters. Then Prinsloo surrendered.
Having accompanied the commandos that surrendered under him, we will
relate the story of that most sad incident of the War.
On the occupation of Bethlehem by the British in the beginning of July,
1900, the Boer commandos, under General De Wet, retreated to the
Wittebergen, a mountain range to the south-east of Bethlehem, forming a
semi-circle round Fouriesburg, a small village on the Basutoland border.
This range, with its towering peaks and steep slopes, formed an
impregnable stronghold. The burghers thought that, once behind those
heaven-high mountains, with all the passes in their possession, with
abundant war supplies, and all the necessaries of life, they would
resist successfully every attack. The camps were pitched at the base of
the mountains. The burghers began at once to make turf-bulwarks for the
guns, and trenches for themselves, in the various passes.
General De Wet, who did not seem quite at ease in this enclosure or
kraal, for such it was, organised the Bethlehem-Heilbron burghers into a
commando 2500 strong and left with these in the direction of Heilbron.
General Roux from Senekal was instructed to organise another commando,
1000 or 1200 strong, and advance with that in the direction of
Bloemfontein. For some reason or other, General Roux's departure was
delayed, and so he with all his men fell into Prinsloo's meshes.
On Monday, 23rd July, the enemy made a general attack on all the Boer
positions, except Naauwpoort Pass. These attacks, though very
determined, were unsuccessful. From sunrise to sunset the firing never
ceased. The burghers in Slabberts Nek, where we happened to be, were
subjected to a dreadful cannon fire. This pass was guarded by Captain
Smith with two Krupp guns and Lieutenant Carlblom with a pom-pom. Upon
these guns the English directed two Howitzers and six Armstrongs. Here,
just before sunset, the gallant Captain Rautenbagh was blown to pieces
by a lyddite shell, which exploded in front of him.
Thus repulsed by day, the enemy succeeded in scaling the heights to the
left of the Boers at Slabberts Nek by an unguarded footpath during the
night. As soon as the crimson light of a July dawn had exposed the
frost-covered ridges, the dark overcoats on the left of the Boer
positions revealed the unwelcome fact that the enemy had gained their
object of the day before, and had outflanked the Boers.
Not only at Slabberts Nek, but also at Reliefs Nek the Boers were
outflanked the same night. At the latter pass a number of Highlanders
had occupied the rocky heights during the stillness of the night, so
that when the Boer pickets discovered them the next morning they found
the enemy commanding a position higher than their own, which they
forthwith abandoned. The enemy, now in possession of two mountain
passes, forced the Boers to evacuate all the other passes, by
threatening an attack on our rear and surrounding us. So on Tuesday
morning, at about 9 A.M., the commandos quitted the mountains and fell
back on Fouriesburg.
Our situation was becoming hourly more and more embarrassing. There was
just one thing to be done, and that was to move as quickly as possible
all along the base of the mountain range, and to seize a pass called
Naauwpoort Nek farther northwards. That pass was not yet occupied by the
enemy, and there it was possible to secure a safe exit; and higher up
the mountain range, at the farm of Salmon Raads, was another pass which
could be reached in due time.
If Prinsloo had, in his heart, desired to save his commandos, he could
have done so easily. But no sooner had we left the mountains than we
noticed that strange whispers were passed from man to man; we heard it
said that a further prolongation of the war was absolutely useless;
that many of the officers and burghers were tired of it, and would like
to go home. In short, we saw what was coming, and anticipated the
surrender.
When the commandos arrived at Naauwpoort Pass they found their exit cut
off there by the enemy. Instead of hastening on to the next pass, the
officers held a council of war to discuss the situation, or, more
correctly, to deliberate on a surrender. The meeting lasted almost all
night. Some of the officers were deadly opposed to a surrender;
others--and they were the majority--were in favour of it. Nothing,
however, was decided at that meeting, for a Hoofd Commandant had first
to be elected before any steps could be taken.
A second meeting of officers for the purpose of electing a Chief
Commandant was next held. In that meeting Prinsloo was elected Chief
Commandant, but, as not all the officers were present, some of them
being still in the positions, it was beforehand agreed that the man
elected by that meeting should have no authority before the votes of the
absent officers were taken, and when their votes came in it was found
that General Roux, and not Prinsloo, was elected.
The latter, however, entered into negotiations with the enemy before
this question as to whom was to be Chief Commandant was settled. He
first asked for an armistice, which was refused. Then he asked for
terms, to which General Hunter replied: "Unconditional surrender is
demanded." Prinsloo, well aware that the burghers would not surrender
unconditionally, pleaded and insisted on terms.
At this juncture Vilonel, the deserter, who had been sentenced for five
years' imprisonment for high treason, but who was, unfortunately,
released, appeared on the scene. He came from the British lines, met
Prinsloo, and officiated as intermediary between Generals Hunter and
Prinsloo. Something in the shape of terms was drawn up, but these terms,
if tested and analysed, amounted to unconditional surrender. As soon as
Prinsloo was in possession of these conditions, he forwarded a report to
the different commandants that he had been successful in obtaining good
terms from the English, and that they must evacuate their positions so
as to arrange for a surrender. This report was sent on to Commandant
Potgieter of Smithfield with instructions to forward it to the next
commandant.
General Roux, on learning of Prinsloo's doings, at once dispatched a
report to the different commandos notifying to them that Prinsloo had no
right to negotiate with the enemy, to ask for or accept terms for a
surrender. Also, that the burghers must on no account abandon their
positions. He, so the report ran, would personally go to protest against
the illegal surrender. The General went, but did not return. Why he went
himself, and did not send one of his adjutants with a written protest,
seems still very strange to us. He was warned not to go. General
Fourie's last words to him were: "Good-bye, General; I greet you, never
to see you again in the Boer ranks." He did not heed the warning, and so
we lost one of our bravest and best leaders.
Unfortunately, General Roux's report fell into the hands of Commandant
Potgieter, who, siding with Prinsloo on the question of a surrender, had
it destroyed whilst Prinsloo's was forwarded. This settled the whole
affair. The positions were evacuated, and in part occupied by the enemy.
Still, at the eleventh hour, there was a possibility of escape. The long
trail of waggons would have been captured, but most, if not all, the
burghers could have found their way out. But no, they were to be duped
by a set of unscrupulous officers. They were told they could get all
they desired, except their independence. All could go home, each would
get a horse-saddle and bridle, their private property would not be
confiscated, and they would be allowed to follow their agricultural and
pastoral pursuits undisturbed. And the poor officers--well for them that
there were no extenuating terms, no mercy. So, at least, said Commandant
Polly de Villiers, of the Ficksburg Commando. He, when posing as a
martyr, announced these conditions to the burghers, who, after such long
separation from their families, found it impossible to withstand such
charming terms. Sorrowfully were they disillusioned after they had laid
down their arms.
To make the surrender a complete success, all sorts of rumours were
freely circulated. The burghers were told that all who did not surrender
would be shot as rebels when captured, that the pass, higher up the
mountains, was guarded by twenty-five lyddite guns, so that every exit
was cut off by the enemy. When these reports were brought to bear on men
already depressed and discouraged it did not require great pressure to
effect their surrender. Still, if these men had not been misled, if they
had known that Ceylon and India would be the final destination of many
of them, they never would have surrendered, and very few of them would
have been captured there and then. All this they found out when it was
too late.
These unfortunate burghers we do not wish to criticise too severely. The
officers were to blame. Many of them certainly fell into the hands of
the enemy through no fault of their own. There were, however, some who
were only too ready to lay down their arms, and these were the majority.
They did not act the part of men; for they deserted shamefully those who
still struggled bravely for freedom. Nor am I willing to judge these.
Let conscience speak to such as these.
Some officers, animated by a truer love of their country, protested
strongly against such an illegal and shameful surrender. One of these,
General Olivier of the Rouxville Commando, called his burghers together
and told them plainly what he thought. He warned them not to place too
much credence in British promises, and promised that those who would
follow him he would lead out safely. Of his whole commando--about four
hundred strong--scarcely seventy followed him. The others surrendered.
Besides attending to his men, General Olivier also took charge of most
of the Boer guns, which were to have formed no mean part of the booty,
for Prinsloo had promised the British some thirteen guns, one pom-pom,
and a few maxims with all their ammunition. In the pass at Salmon Raads,
General Hector MacDonald met Olivier with the guns. He at once ordered
him to go no farther, as he was a surrendered man. Olivier tarried as
long as it pleased him, and then proceeded, taking the guns along with
him.
Of all the Boer forces concentrated in the Wittebergen, only about six
hundred did not surrender. To secure these also every means were
resorted to. No fewer than three times were messengers sent to them with
reports from the enemy. At first we were courteously invited to return
and surrender. To prove to us the validity of the surrender, all the
papers bearing on the negotiation from first to last were forwarded to
us. The excellent conditions granted to the surrendered burghers were
also transmitted to us. In these conditions we observed that the
surrendered burghers would each be provided with a horse to ride to
their destination, which would be Winburg, till further orders. We saw
also that they would be kept as prisoners-of-war until the war was over,
which meant, though they did not suspect it then, two years longer.
Their private property was to be respected. How the last condition was
violated is well known.
Olivier and his men were, however, not to be easily ensnared. He
politely rejected the proffered terms, stating at the same time that
Prinsloo's surrender was illegal. A few days later, and lo! in the
distance we beheld another flag-of-truce, a second report. The polite
request had failed, intimidation must now be tried--that might succeed
better. We were admonished urgently to come back at once, and surrender
without further delay. Failing that, we must not expect to receive such
generous and lenient treatment as would be extended to those surrendered
already. All our goods would be confiscated, etc.
On receiving this report, Olivier sent back the somewhat curt and abrupt
reply: "That if the British wanted his rifle they would have to capture
him as a man, for he would not surrender like an old woman. And he would
receive no more white flags on this matter." Consequently the third
messenger was sent back without being interviewed.
So much for the Prinsloo disaster. It was a sad one for those still
struggling against overwhelming odds. Many a heart beat low, and many a
sigh was heaved. That was an "unkind cut," which wounded the hearts of
thousands. Many a one, even of those who stood to the last day, never
recovered from the effects of that shock. They fought bravely, and did
their duty towards their country, but hope for an ultimate victory was
dead within them.
And those who surrendered, what lessons they had to learn! Even to-day,
a year after the close of the war, some of them have not reached their
homes, but are on lonely islands, and in distant India, while many have
passed away to the unseen world on those foreign shores. Those that came
back, what did they find? A country strewn with ruins, their homes
destroyed and burnt, and their sheep and cattle stabbed and shot lying
in heaps upon the ground. What a sad sight did greet their eyes! How
many of their beloved families were missing, having died in the
Concentration Camps. But when they reflect on the past the saddest
thought should be their vanished freedom.
The next ordeal through which the Republicans had to pass began with the
denudation of the two States. As arms alone could not subdue the Boers,
some other expedient had to be tried--the starvation process was
resorted to; all food-stuff had to be destroyed or removed, so that the
burghers should not obtain sustenance. The country had to be cleared of
cattle and sheep--in fact, of everything which could keep the Boers
alive. This was considered the most feasible way of defeating the
so-called _marauding_ bands of armed Boers.
But what about the women-folk, if the country is to be cleared? Well,
these must go to Concentration Camps, from which so many never returned.
We do not wish to dwell on the sufferings of Boer women and children;
but what we are proud to note is that when military operations were
conducted against the weak and defenceless, the burgher was touched to
the centre of his heart. Call a Boer by what name you please, but of
this be assured--he is a man who, above all, loves his family, and has
pride and pleasure in his home, be it never so humble. When, therefore,
a destructive policy was adopted, who shall realise fully what passed
through the minds of these as they stood watching the lurid flames of
their burning homes, and heard how in the camps their families were
dying in scores? Cronje's capture, Prinsloo's surrender, and all the
hard fighting they had to do, seemed but trifles as compared to this, by
far the saddest, phase of the South African War.
Another dark day, and the curtain drops. We refer to that day when the
documents were signed and peace was concluded. Then, indeed, the
darkness seemed tangible Who shall number the tears shed on that
day--tears of men, women, and even children? Tears of men who had fought
for almost three years, who had sacrificed their all, who had but one
object in view, one ideal to pursue; who loved liberty and independence,
with an amazing love. Tears of women, who had spent many months either
in camps, or in the open veldt; women whose husbands and sons had fallen
in the war, whose infants were laid low in many a graveyard. Tears of
children, who had lost their parents, children who never more would know
the love of a mother, the protection of a father. With one voice the
whole people lamented the loss of their beloved Fatherland.
And how did the officers who had to subscribe to these terms of peace
feel? Let one[A] who was present speak:
"Never shall I forget what I witnessed there. General De Wet showed
that there was no chance any longer of continuing the struggle ...
I see him yet, that unyielding man, with his piercing eyes, his
strong mouth and chin--I see him there still, like a lion fallen
into a snare. He will not, he cannot, but he must give up the
struggle! I still see the stern faces of the officers, who up to
that moment had been so unbending. I see them staring as if into
empty space. I see engraved upon their faces an indescribable
expression, an expression that seemed to ask: 'Is this the bitter
end of our sufferings and our sorrows, of our faith and our strong
crying to God?' How great was their emotion! I saw the lips of men
quiver who had never trembled before a foe. I saw tears brimming in
eyes that had been dry when they had seen their dearest laid in
the grave....
"Everything was as silent as death when acting President Burger
took the pen in his hand. I looked at my watch; it was five minutes
past eleven on the 31st day of May in the year 1902.
"President Burger signed. President Steyn was not there. Our hearts
bled at the thought that he had been seized by a dangerous malady;
and yet it seemed to me that something was owed to that malady,
since it prevented the President of the Orange Free State from
doing what would have caused him the greatest pain in the world. He
had said once: 'To set my hand to a paper to sign away the
Independence of my people--that I shall never do.' Sad
circumstances, which he might then almost have called fortunate,
had brought it about that what he would not do, that he could not
do. The document was signed! All were silent in that room where so
much had been spoken."
We quote the terms of peace in full:--
"His Excellency General Lord Kitchener, and His Excellency Lord
Milner, on behalf of the British Government, and Messrs. M.T.
Steyn, J. Brebner, General C.R. De Wet, General C. Olivier, and
Judge J.B.M. Hertzog, acting as the Government of the Orange Free
State, and Messrs. S.W. Burger, F.W. Reitz, Generals Louis Botha,
J.H. de la Rey, Lucas Meyer, and C. Krogh, acting as the Government
of the South African Republic, on behalf of their respective
burghers, desirous to terminate the present hostilities, agree on
the following articles:--
"I. The burgher forces in the field will forthwith lay down their
arms, handing over all guns, rifles, and munitions of war in their
possession or under their control, and desist from any further
resistance to the authority of His Majesty King Edward VII., whom
they recognise as their lawful Sovereign. The manner and details of
this surrender will be arranged between Lord Kitchener and
Commandant-General Botha, Assistant Commandant-General Delarey, and
Chief Commandant De Wet.
"2. All burghers in the field outside the limits of the Transvaal
or Orange River Colony, and all prisoners of war at present outside
South Africa, who are burghers, will, on duly declaring their
acceptance of the position of subjects of His Majesty King Edward
VII., be gradually brought back to their homes as soon as
transport can be provided and their means of subsistence ensured.
"3. The burghers so surrendering or so returning will not be
deprived of their personal liberty or their property.
"4. No proceedings, civil or criminal, will be taken against any of
the burghers so surrendering or so returning for any acts in
connection with the prosecution of the war. The benefit of this
clause will not extend to certain acts contrary to the usage of war
which have been notified by the Commander-in-Chief to the Boer
Generals and which shall be tried by court-martial immediately
after the close of hostilities.
"5. The Dutch language will be taught in public schools in the
Transvaal and Orange River Colony where the parents of the children
desire it, and will be allowed in courts of law when necessary for
the better and more effectual administration of justice.
"6. The possession of rifles will be allowed in the Transvaal and
Orange River Colony to persons requiring them for their protection,
on taking out a licence according to law.
"7. Military administration in the Transvaal and Orange River
Colony will at the earliest possible date be succeeded by Civil
Government, and, as soon as circumstances permit, representative
institutions, leading up to self-government, will be introduced.
"8. The question of granting the franchise to natives will not be
decided until after the introduction of self-government.
"9. No special tax will be imposed on landed property in the
Transvaal and Orange River Colony to defray the expenses of the
War.
"10. As soon as conditions permit, a Commission, on which the local
inhabitants will be represented, will be appointed in each district
of the Transvaal and Orange River Colony, under the presidency of a
Magistrate or other official, for the purpose of assisting the
restoration of the people to their homes, and supplying those who,
owing to war losses, are unable to provide for themselves, with
food, shelter, and the necessary amount of seed, stock, implements,
etc., indispensable to the resumption of their normal occupations.
His Majesty's Government will place at the disposal of these
Commissions a sum of three million pounds sterling for the above
purposes, and will allow all notes issued under Law No. I, of 1900,
of the South African Republic, and all receipts given by officers
in the field of the late Republics, or under their orders, to be
presented to a Judicial Commission, which will be appointed by the
Government; and if such notes and receipts are found by this
Commission to have been duly issued in return for valuable
considerations, they will be received by the first named
Commissions as evidence of war losses suffered by the persons to
whom they were originally given. In addition to the above named
free grant of three million pounds, His Majesty's Government will
be prepared to make advances on loan for the same purposes, free of
interest for two years, and afterwards repayable over a period of
three years with three per cent. interest. No foreigner or rebel
will be entitled to the benefit of this clause."
Statement read by Lord Milner to the Boer delegates:--
"His Majesty's Government must place it on record that the
treatment of Cape and Natal Colonists who have been in rebellion,
and who now surrender, will, if they return to their Colonies, be
determined by the Colonial Governments, and in accordance with the
laws of the Colonies, and that any British subjects who have joined
the enemy will be liable to trial under the law of that part of the
British Empire to which they belong.
"His Majesty's Government are informed by the Cape Government that
the following are their views as to the terms which should be
granted to British subjects of Cape Colony who are now in the
field, or who have surrendered, or have been captured since the
12th of April, 1901: With regard to rank and file, that they should
all, upon surrender, after giving up their arms, sign a document
before the Resident Magistrate of the District in which the
surrender takes place, acknowledging themselves guilty of High
Treason, and that the punishment to be awarded to them, provided
they shall not have been guilty of murder, or other acts contrary
to the usages of civilised warfare, should be that they shall not
be entitled for life to be registered as voters, or to vote at any
Parliamentary Divisional Council, or Municipal election.
"With reference to Justices of the Peace and Field Cornets of the
Cape Colony, and all other persons holding an official position
under the Government of the Cape Colony, or who may occupy the
position of Commandant of rebel or burgher forces, they should be
tried for High Treason before the ordinary court of the country, or
such special court as may be hereafter constituted by Law, the
punishment for their offence to be left to the discretion of the
Court, with this proviso, that in no case shall the penalty of
Death be inflicted.
"The Natal Government are of opinion that rebels should be dealt
with according to the Law of the Colony."
To the Boer, although he had been suffering the manifold miseries of the
battlefield for over two years, such terms made peace a tragedy.
Bitterness was mixed with his cup of happiness when he found himself
once more united to his family.
[Footnote A: Rev. Kestell, 'Through Shot and Flames.']
[Illustration: MR. R. MCDONALD.]
CHAPTER III.
ENGAGEMENTS.
And in the hope of freedom they possess
All that the contest calls for,--spirit, strength,
The scorn of danger, and united hearts.
_Cowper._
With the exception of the Stormberg engagement we do not intend to dwell
on the battles of the first part of the campaign. They have already been
described by able hands, by men who participated in them, or were in a
position to ascertain their true history. By this we do not infer that
all accounts are correct, for it requires many eyes to see one battle in
all its aspects. Besides, some writers are unconsciously influenced and
prejudiced by their national sentiments, and thus fail to do justice to
the parties concerned. We shall confine ourselves to the engagements in
which we personally took part, and shall record only the more remarkable
among them.
BATTLE OF STORMBERG.
In the beginning of November, 1899, the commandoes of Rouxville,
Smithfield, and Bethulie entered the Cape Colony at different points.
Having occupied several villages in the Eastern Province, they
concentrated towards the end of the month in the Stormbergen. Our tents
were pitched on the northern slopes of this mountain range, which runs
from east to west, six miles to the north of Molteno. Here we were to
have our first lesson in actual fighting; for up to that time we had not
encountered any resistance on the part of the enemy.
On the 9th of December, the night fixed on by General Gatacre to strike
a blow at the Boer forces at Stormberg, Assistant Chief Commandant
Grobler left that place with about nine hundred burghers, intending to
occupy Steynsburg. The enemy, having heard of their departure, and
knowing that our positions were in consequence so much weaker, left that
same evening, fully resolved to surprise us, and, if possible, reoccupy
the Stormbergen, which were abandoned at the first approach of our
commandoes.
The object of the British was to attack us on our right flank before
dawn, seize our positions and force us to surrender or retreat. On paper
this plan presented no difficulties, but its accomplishment was not
quite so easy, and proved a dangerous operation. The English general, as
we afterwards learnt, had started for the Boer positions at too late an
hour to reach them in due time; and, moreover, had lost his way in the
darkness of the night, so that the first rays of the rising sun were
lighting the majestic mountain tops before he was in position.
The "brandwachten"--night pickets--of the Rouxville Commando were
already on their way back to the camp, when one of them, who had by
chance returned to the top of the mountain, saw, in the shadow of the
valley, and on the slopes of the mountain, human forms moving silently
onward. One glance of his keen eye assured him that those forms were
enemies. Bang! went the first rifle report. The other pickets all rushed
back and opened fire as swiftly as they could handle their Mausers. This
brought the enemy to a standstill, for they, too, were surprised.
In the Boer camp below some of us were still peacefully sleeping, while
others were enjoying their first cup of coffee. With the rifle reports
came wakefulness and bustle. It did not take us a moment to realise that
speed would be our only means of salvation. Should the enemy reach the
summit first, disaster and defeat would be our lot. For some minutes it
was a scene of confusion. The horses, saddles, bridles, rifles and
bandoliers, where were they? Some knew, and had their equipments ready
in a moment; others, less careful, did not know, and sought almost
frantically for theirs. We made for the mountain and scaled it as
swiftly as our feet could carry us. Exhausted and breathless we reached
the summit before the enemy.
Gatacre's men were now exposed to a somewhat confused fire, which
greatly embarrassed them. Subjected to this fire from the summit, some
concealed themselves behind the rocks, while others retreated for
shelter to a donga not far off.
The English battery was then brought into action, and opened a terrific
fire on our positions, commanded by only two Krupp guns. So unceasing
and accurate was the enemy's fire, that our guns were soon silenced. In
a short time some of our burghers fell wounded and a few killed. One of
the enemy's guns was taken by mistake too near to our positions, with
the result that, in a few minutes, all its horses and most of the
gunners were disabled, and the gun passed into our hands.
Although exposed to a violent bombardment, we held our ground and
repelled the repeated attacks of Gatacre's men, who began to realise
that, should their guns not speedily dislodge us, the attack was bound
to collapse.
After the engagement had lasted an hour and a half we noticed that the
enemy began to waver, and was planning a retreat. To their dismay
General Grobler now made his appearance with reinforcements. He had
encamped that night some nine miles from Stormberg, and on hearing the
report of the guns, returned with Commandant du Plooy of Bethulie to
assist the Stormberg defenders.
On his arrival the enemy, exposed to a cross-fire, ran the risk of being
surrounded and captured. There was but one way out of a wretched
position--one loophole out of the net. Fortunately for them, Commandant
Zwanepoel of Smithfield, who had just given orders to guard this way of
escape, was badly wounded while rising to lead on his men. Owing to this
mishap his burghers failed to carry out his instructions, thus leaving
the way open.
Gatacre, seeing that it was a hopeless struggle, abandoned the project
of reoccupying Stormberg and sounded the retreat. He was followed up for
some distance by Commandant du Plooy, who made a few prisoners and took
two ammunition waggons. Weary and thirsty, the English forces re-entered
Molteno that evening. They had been baffled in a determined attack.
Their losses amounted to about 700, captured, wounded and killed. Those
who had taken shelter behind the rocks and in the donga were all made
prisoners. They remained there till the rest had retreated, and then
hoisted the white flag. One English writer says that they were
shamefully forgotten by General Gatacre, who was thus responsible for
their loss. Indeed a questionable explanation! Among the wounded were a
few officers and some privates, who were seriously injured by their own
guns as they tried to seize the Boer positions. Colonel Eagar, one of
the wounded, was removed to our hospital, where he breathed his last. In
addition to the number of prisoners we also captured two big guns. Our
losses amounted to 6 killed and 27 wounded.
The attack on the Stormberg positions, if it was boldly conceived, was
badly carried out. The English general should have postponed the attack
when it dawned upon him that he would not reach the enemy's positions
before daybreak; and he should have used the knowledge, common to most
soldiers, that it is best to attack a foe's weakest side. This was not
done at Stormberg. We, too, suffered from ill-advised action--or rather,
inaction. For we had had the opportunity of capturing, if not all, most
of Gatacre's men, with all their guns, and we neglected it! The victory
would have been complete if we had only followed up our advantage. In
those early days, however, some of our leaders regarded it as rather
sinful to harass a retreating enemy.
SANNA'S POST.
On the occupation of Bloemfontein some of the burghers, discouraged and
despondent, left for their homes. Lord Roberts's proclamation, promising
protection to all who should lay down their arms and settle quietly on
their farms, enticed many to remain at home. Most, however, changed
their minds after a few weeks' rest and returned to their commandoes.
It was then, after they had rallied again, that General De Wet, on the
eve of the 28th of March, left Brandfort with a commando 1500 strong and
moved in the direction of Winburg. De Wet had made up his mind to
surprise the English garrison which guarded the Bloemfontein Waterworks
at Sanna's Post, and so cut off the water supply of Bloemfontein.
With that object in view he made his movements thither by night, so as
to keep the enemy in the dark as to his plans. Neither were these
disclosed to the burghers, who were naturally anxious to know where they
were going and what they were to do next.
On his way De Wet learnt that General Broadwood, dreading an attack of
Commandant Olivier, had quitted Ladybrand and was marching on
Bloemfontein with a strong force. This information was rather
disconcerting, for now he had not only to reckon with the garrison, but
to be ready for an engagement with a column 2000 strong, which might
come to the relief of the garrison at any moment. In case of such an
emergency, De Wet divided his forces into two parts. He placed one
division--1050 strong with four guns--under the control of Generals
Cronje, Froneman, Wessels, and Piet De Wet, with instructions to occupy
the positions east of the Modder River and directly opposite the
Waterworks, so as to check Broadwood, should he come to the rescue of
the garrison.
Taking the remaining 350 burghers he set out to Koorn Spruit, a brook
which flows into the Modder River. Arrived there, he carefully concealed
his horses and men at a point where the road from the Waterworks to
Bloemfontein passes through the brook. The other generals were to shell
the garrison at daybreak, while he would fall on the troops if they
tried to escape to Bloemfontein _viâ_ Koorn Spruit.
As the Boer forces were getting into their different positions during
the night, Broadwood, who had left Thaba 'Nchu at nightfall, arrived
that very night at Sanna's Post. But we were each unconscious of the
other's presence.
The next morning at daybreak we saw a waggon and a large number of
cattle and sheep not far off the brook. The Kaffir drivers informed us
that the British column had just arrived at Sanna's Post. As soon as we
could see some distance ahead, we observed the enemy now hardly 3000
paces off. A few minutes later our guns began to play upon the
unsuspecting British forces. What a scene of confusion! Broadwood had
fallen into a trap and was between two fires. The whole column, with
guns, waggons and carts, made hurriedly for the drift where De Wet and
his men lay hidden. Nearer they came. At length a cart entered the
drift. The occupants, husband and wife, looked bewildered on seeing
armed Boers all around them in the bed of the brook. De Wet immediately
ordered two of his adjutants to mount the cart and drive on. Then in
quick succession followed a number of carts and vehicles, all driven by
Englishmen from Thaba 'Nchu. These were ordered to proceed ahead and
warned not to make any signals to the enemy. So well was everything
arranged, that the first batch of troops that entered the drift had not
the slightest suspicion that there was something wrong. Absolutely
abashed were they on finding themselves among us; the men raised their
hands in surrender at the cry of "Hands up!"
In this way we disarmed 200 without wasting a bullet. But this was not
to go on for long; there came an officer from the rear who was
determined to upset our plans and disturb our peace seriously. He, at
least, was not going to surrender in this fashion. On being asked for
his rifle he said, with marked resoluteness, "Be d----d! I won't," and
called on his men to fire. He drew his sword, but before he could use it
he was no more among the living.
The battle had begun. Scarcely 100 paces from the banks of the brook
stood five of the enemy's guns and more than 100 waggons. Some 400 paces
from these two more guns had stopped. The enemy had withdrawn for cover
about 1300 yards to the station on the Dewetsdorp-Bloemfontein railway.
[Illustration: SANNA'S POST--Plan of Battle.]
It was while they were retreating to this station that the greatest
havoc was wrought among them. Across the open plain, with no cover at
all, they had to retreat, and before they reached the place of shelter
the ground between the brook and the station was thickly strewn with
their dead and wounded. It was, indeed, a ghastly scene. The burghers
stood erect and fired on the retreating foe as though they were so much
game. So quickly did the waggons and guns wheel round that many were
overturned. To remove them was impossible. In vain did the English try
to save the guns. They succeeded, however, in getting two to the station
house, where they had rallied. With these they bombarded us for some
time; but owing to our sheltered positions only two men were wounded.
The Boer forces on the east of the Modder River had in the meanwhile
been doing their best to come to the assistance of General De Wet. But
their progress was much retarded by the uneven veldt and dongas through
which they had to ride. After three hours, spent in fruitless attempts,
they forded the river, attacked the enemy with great energy, and
succeeded in putting them to flight, and this brought the battle to an
end.
We made 480 captives. What their losses in wounded and killed were is
difficult to estimate. In the evening, when all was over, we went to the
house where the wounded were gathered, and there counted in one room
alone 96 cases. Their own report made their losses 350 dead and wounded.
Besides, 7 guns and 117 waggons fell into our hands. Our loss consisted
in 3 killed and 5 wounded.
On looking at the bodies of the dead and listening to the groanings of
the wounded, one was forced to say what a pity that the trap was
discovered, that one brave man, through his very bravery, prevented the
bloodless capture of his column and his general.
MOSTERT'S HOEK.
The victory at Sanna's Post was soon followed up by another success over
the British arms. On the evening of the eventful day at the Waterworks
De Wet handed the command over to Generals A. Cronje and Piet De Wet,
and, having taken three of his staff, he went in the direction of
Dewetsdorp on a reconnoitring expedition.
The following day he learnt that a party of the enemy had occupied
Dewetsdorp. On receiving the report his mind was made up: these too must
be captured. He was then thirty miles away from the commandoes, but
instantly despatched a report to us to come post-haste so as to attack
the enemy at Dewetsdorp or intercept them, should they try to join the
main body, which was advancing under Gatacre on Reddersburg.
In the meanwhile the burghers of that district, who had gone to their
farms on the fall of Bloemfontein, were commandeered. With these, some
120, who were almost all unarmed, De Wet started for Dewetsdorp to watch
the movements of the British.
Early on the 2nd of April the enemy left Dewetsdorp, and resumed their
march to Reddersburg. While marching De Wet kept them all the while
under surveillance. He was moving on one of their flanks, parallel to
them with an intervening distance of six miles. They were evidently not
aware that he was so close to them. As soon as we received the report
concerning the British, we left Sanna's Post in haste. We required no
urging on. For were we not encouraged by our recent success, and was
there not every chance of achieving another? We left Sanna's Post a
little before sunset, and that whole night we rode on without
off-saddling once. We did not halt save for a few minutes to rest our
horses.
Early the following morning a third report, pressing us to increase our
speed and leave behind those whose horses were too tired to proceed
rapidly, reached us. De Wet was most anxious to occupy a ridge in front
of the enemy, between the farms Mostert's Hoek and Sterkfontein. The
road leading to Reddersburg from Dewetsdorp traverses this ridge. Hence
it was absolutely necessary to seize it before the enemy if we were to
intercept them.
So on we went, leaving the weary and exhausted behind to follow on as
soon as possible. About 9 A.M. Generals Froneman and De Villiers, with
350 men, met De Wet, who was still moving parallel to the British
column, obscured from their view by a rising of the ground.
The ridge referred to already loomed now in the distance. We were all
fiercely anxious to seize it before the enemy. For it was a question of
life and death who was to be first there. But our horses were too tired,
and began to fall out rapidly. We were still four miles from the ridge
when the English began to occupy the eastern extremity of it. We moved
on to the western extremity, and reached it in time.
The enemy, however, had the advantage of the best positions, but was
fortunately cut off from the water. We were resolved to hem them in
completely, for we knew that, if no relieving forces arrived, they would
be compelled by thirst alone, if nothing else, to surrender.
Before commencing the fight, De Wet, anxious as usual to avoid
unnecessary bloodshed, sent the following note to the commanding
officer:--
"SIR,--I am here with 500 men, and am every moment expecting
reinforcements with three Krupps, against which you will not be
able to hold out. I therefore advise you, in order to prevent
bloodshed, to surrender."
The messenger returned under a storm of bullets, for no sooner had he
left the English lines than they opened fire on him. How he was missed
seemed inexplicable. The answer he brought back was: "I am d----d if I
surrender." On receiving this reply firing at once commenced. Positions
nearer to the enemy were gradually occupied.
Towards sunset our guns arrived, and were brought to bear upon the
enemy. But darkness soon set in, and firing ceased on both sides. To
make sure that the enemy would not escape during the night, we occupied
positions all round them, and in the darkness of the night silently
stole as near to their positions as was possible.
The next morning, as soon as the glimmer of dawn revealed the Mauser
sights to our eyes, the firing started with renewed vigour. We had drawn
so close to the enemy that when our guns were brought in action we
could, under cover of these, storm their positions. The men boldly
rushed up to the enemy's skanzes, and some burghers even seized their
rifles by the barrels, as they presented these over the bulwarks,
calling out, "Hands up! hands up!"
At 11 A.M. the white flag was hoisted. The commanding officer, who had
refused to surrender, was mortally wounded. Three hundred and seventy
were sent to the Transvaal as prisoners-of-war, while their wounded and
killed numbered 92.
Among the English we found five Boer prisoners-of-war, who were likewise
exposed to our firing. Imagine their joy in being released! They greeted
us with the ejaculation: "Thank God we are free!" We mourned the death
of Veldt Cornet du Plessis of Kroonstad, who fell after the white flag
had been hoisted. That such mistakes should occur! Six or seven burghers
were wounded.
LADYBRAND VISITED.
Towards the end of July, 1900, Prinsloo's surrender took place. Those of
us who escaped the trap laid left for Heilbron with the hope of meeting
De Wet's commando there. Near Heilbron we heard the dismal news that he
was forced over the Vaal and was being driven northward by some 40,000
troops. This, led us to change our course and move in the direction of
Winburg.
On the morning of the 27th of August we made an unsuccessful attack on
Winburg. Olivier, with 27 men, got captured. The burden and
responsibility of leading others was then first placed upon my
shoulders. I was elected commandant.
Frustrated in our attempt to seize Winburg, we resolved to attack
Ladybrand, which was not strongly garrisoned. Having encamped at
Koeranerberg--a mountain 30 miles west of Ladybrand--we mustered our
forces, took three guns and about 800 burghers, and left for the
village.
It was a bitterly cold night--one of those nights which one can hardly
forget. We rode till sunrise without off-saddling once. At 9 P.M. we
halted to prepare a hasty supper. How we enjoyed that! A few days
before, the enemy had unwillingly provided us with sugar, coffee, milk,
butter and cheese. Owing to the intense cold the men that had no
overcoats wrapped themselves up in their blankets, in which they
appeared before the village just as the sun was rising.
Commandant Hertzog, on our arrival, despatched a messenger under a flag
of truce to demand the surrender of the garrison. In reply he received a
message to the effect that it would be much better if he would come in
himself and lay down arms; that would put an end to the business much
quicker. On receiving this answer we at once began to bombard the forts
of the enemy, with the result that almost all their horses took to
flight and fell into our hands, while some of them were wounded and
killed.
General Fourie, Commandant Nieuwhoudt and myself, with a number of
daring volunteers, made for the village. We reached a few houses safely,
and under cover of these we succeeded in forcing the enemy to retreat to
their forts and skanzes at the foot of Platrand--a mountain to the
south-east of the village and very near to it. Gradually we occupied
more and more of the village, and before sunset we were in possession of
the whole of it.
The enemy was, however, so strongly entrenched that, in spite of their
small numbers, it was impossible to compel them to capitulate without
incurring the risk of sustaining heavy losses. For at the base of the
mountain are natural forts and grottoes, against which lyddite shells
would spend their force in vain. All we could do was to keep the foe in
their haunts by directing such a fire against them that they could not
venture even to peep out. In doing this the commandoes could
requisition--loot, as some would say--what they required.
During the night the enemy shifted and occupied other positions. At
daybreak they took vengeance on us from these positions. It did not take
a long time to silence them for the rest of the day.
The following two days we remained in the village, keeping the enemy at
bay. We had hoped that eventually their rations would run short, and
thus bring about their surrender. Unfortunately our hopes were not to be
realised; they were only too well provided. Then, again, we thought that
thirst might prove an irresistible force in our favour; but in this,
too, we erred, for in their grottoes was abundant water.
On the second day of the attack we placed one of our guns in the centre
of the village, whence we shelled the enemy's forts, but all to no
purpose. On the evening of the third day we heard that relieving forces
were at hand, and as we had received a message from De Wet to meet him
in Bothaville district, we left Ladybrand at dusk.
During the three days' fighting only a few burghers were wounded. As the
enemy fired at random into the village, some of the inhabitants were
also injured. A young man was mortally wounded, while a bullet shattered
the arm of a woman.
Our efforts were rewarded by the seizure of the enemy's horses, which we
valued even more than their persons. The horses we could keep and use,
the men we had to dismiss again. We returned to the laager well supplied
with clothes and foodstuffs. But for some traitors, who assisted the
enemy, the garrison would in all probability have fallen. These,
dreading the results of a capitulation, held out until relieved.
As this was our first visit to Ladybrand since its occupation, the joy
of the Boer families in meeting relatives and burghers was indeed great.
They welcomed them with open arms, and during their short stay it was
their delight to minister unto them. We shall ever gratefully remember
the hearty reception which was extended to us by the Ladybrand
Africanders. Were they not prosecuted after our departure for welcoming
and receiving their kith and kin?
MURRAY'S COLUMN.
Compelled to abandon the Cape Colony in August, we went to Gastron
District, a Free State village situated on the Basutoland border. There
we intended to rest our horses for a time; but no sooner had we entered
the district than the English column came pouring into it like so many
birds of prey. They had concentrated in that district and in the
adjoining ones to clear them, _i.e._, to remove or destroy whatever
could be removed or destroyed.
During this time we often came in conflict with the enemy. It was
impossible to avoid that; they were on every side. For miles and miles
it was one column on the other. We could hardly engage any of these
columns successfully during the day, for no sooner had the fight begun
than reinforcements would come from all directions, making our position
quite untenable.
It was in such circumstances that we planned a night attack on one of
the English camps nine miles east of Gastron. We had engaged the enemy
on several occasions without desirable results. Our limited supply of
ammunition was gradually exhausted. Come what would, we were bound to
strike a blow at the enemy, so as to fill our bandoliers once more. The
night was the only time we could hope to succeed. Reinforcements would
not then scatter us before we had achieved our object.
At 11 P.M. on the 19th of September, 1901, after a day's hard fighting
from early morn till sunset, we started, 70 men in all, with the
intention of attacking a column encamped at the foot of a hill. It was a
very cold night, and the moon, casting her pale light across the frosty
plains, was sinking in the west. The column was about eight miles off.
As we approached it, deep silence reigned. Not a word, not a whisper was
heard. Ah! if we could but succeed in passing the enemy's pickets
unobserved, the victory would be ours, the battle half won. So we held
our breath and our tongues as well, and moved onward. Indeed, we have
succeeded! We are past the pickets, and that unnoticed! The hill, where
the slumbering foe is encamped, is in our possession.
Having dismounted, the burghers were arranged in fighting order.
Commandant Louis Wessels was placed on one flank, Commandant De Bruijn
on the other. Before commencing the work of destruction, we briefly
admonished and encouraged the men to be true to each other and to fight
as befits men. We pointed out to them that our success would depend
entirely upon our united efforts. For a long address there was no time,
so we proceeded to the camp.
The moon has set. Down below the enemy is fast asleep. Soon, too soon,
their midnight slumbers will be sadly disturbed. Many of them will not
see the dawn of another day. They are enjoying their last sleep.
Silently we moved on to the British column, which gave no signs
whatever that our approach was suspected. As it was very dark, the men
were ordered not to advance ahead of one another, for fear of accidents,
and also, if possible, to march right through the camp, so as to make
sure of all.
Commandant L. Wessels, famous for his dauntlessness, was the first to
open fire by lodging a shot in one of the enemy's tents. The rest
followed, and then a shower of bullets, thick and fast, poured in upon
the surprised and embarrassed foe. The men aimed low and fired with
deadly precision. The flashes of the rifles leapt forth like lightning
freaks in the darkness. Never before had I witnessed such a scene.
In a quarter of an hour all was over and the whole camp taken. Two
Maxims were destroyed and an Armstrong was taken along with us. What
havoc was played in that brief quarter of an hour! The wounded mules,
horses and men lay groaning side by side. Colonel Murray, Captain
Murray, and almost all the other officers, fell in the action, and
several privates passed into the unseen world that fatal night. So
terrific was the firing that entire teams of mules were shot down where
they stood tied to the ropes.
As the veldt was strewn with the many wounded and the dead, we could not
put the waggons on fire, lest the grass should catch fire and consume
the fallen in battle. We took what we could remove and left the
camp--not exactly as we found it, but a little poorer.
The enemy, though attacked off their guard, defended themselves bravely.
We shall not forget the gallant conduct of the officer who had charge of
the Maxim. Distinctly we could hear him say, "Get the Maxim into action.
Don't be afraid, boys. Go for them! Go for them!" Brave man! He, too,
fell by the side of his Maxim, which was charged and seized by
Commandant Wessels.
As to the conduct of the burghers, we need only remark that their good
behaviour pleased us exceedingly. There was no reason to urge them on;
not one retreated. Though only a handful as compared to the enemy, they
fought well till the foe was vanquished. One of them, young Liebenberg
(familiarly known by the name of Matie) from Murraysburg, was shot
through the head and succumbed at once. Another, young Hugo from
Smithfield, was wounded in the foot. We had no other casualties.
The attack on Murray's column was to a great extent incidental. Near his
was another very much smaller camp. When I left that night it was with
the intention to attack this smaller camp, for I had only 65 men at my
disposal. In the darkness I lost my way, and so lighted on Murray's
column. It was unfortunate for them, but for ourselves we could have
wished for no better accident.
In the Colonel's letter-bag we found a letter addressed to his wife,
dated 19th September, 1901, and written the very day before his death.
We purposed to forward that letter, but the following day the bag was
retaken. Not only was it taken, but also the gun, while 20 burghers were
captured and one--Myburgh--was killed. We were again surprised.
Inconstant are the fortunes of war.
JAMES TOWN.
The villages in possession of the enemy were at length so thoroughly
fortified that it was well-nigh impossible to seize them without
sustaining great losses. Though they seemed impregnable, yet we were
sometimes compelled by sheer necessity to attack them. Beyond
expectation we now and again succeeded in inducing the garrison to
surrender. Such was the case at James Town, a village in the Eastern
Province of the Cape Colony.
Late one afternoon in the month of July, 1901, I set out to this village
to reconnoitre it in person. Unobserved, I reached the summit of a small
hill, about a mile from it. Through my field-glasses I carefully noted
the various forts, and there and then planned an attack. The next
morning I knew exactly what to do.
At 2 A.M. Commandant Myburgh, Commandant Lötter, and myself, with some
60 men, were in the saddle and on our way to James Town. What will be
the issue? Shall we succeed? Can we surprise the enemy? Such questions
we put to ourselves as we rode on in the darkness and silence of the
night to accomplish the work of destruction.
The spot we had in view was a kopje, situated to the north of the
village. Here the enemy's camp was located. As this kopje was the key to
the village, it was necessarily very strongly fortified. We knew that if
we could only occupy that hill, the rest would be easy work. Before dawn
we were close to the camp. A few minutes more and we shall grimly salute
our sleeping brethren. Silently we approach them. We are keenly on the
alert for the pickets, whom, least of all, we wished to disturb. Behold!
something in the darkness--what may that be? To be sure, two human
forms! Hush! they are slumbering. Noiselessly we draw nearer, reach
them, seize their rifles, and then--wake them. They are our first
prisoners; our way to the camp is open, safe and sure.
On we moved until stopped, not by a sentinel--it was much too cold that
night to expect an attack--but by a network of barbed wires, by which
the hill and camp were fenced in. Quickly the wires were cut. That done,
some of the burghers charged the tents, while the rest made for the
enemy's trenches on top of the hill.
How awful a surprise! Taken unawares, the foe ran to their strongholds,
but only to meet death there, for these were already in possession of
our men. Myburgh, a Gastron burgher, so very brave, was the first and
only one to receive a mortal wound--other men were slightly wounded in
that hand-to-hand struggle. At dawn the hill and the camp were in our
possession, for the enemy, after a loss of 9 killed and wounded, thought
it best to resist no longer.
With the occupation of the hill it was possible to reach the village.
The British allowed the burghers to pass their skanzes without shooting
at them. But no sooner had they entered the village than a heavy fire
from the forts was directed against them. They were not slow to respond
to this reception, and that so effectively that the commanding officer
was soon willing to entrust himself with his 130 men to our keeping. All
was over.
At 3 P.M. we departed. The English commandant and his men accompanied
us for some distance, and then we dismissed them after their having
promised that they would remain strictly neutral.
CAPTAIN SPANDOW SURPRISED.
While operating in the Cradock district I learnt that a certain Captain
Spandow, with about ninety men, was on the track of a small party of
Boers. Only _ninety_! The small number tempted us to try to effect their
capture, which, as a rule, was not a very difficult nor dangerous
operation. Taking forty burghers I started at midnight, and at dawn
found myself still six miles from the enemy. Lest they should escape I
took twelve men with the best animals, and with these proceeded ahead,
so as to engage the enemy until the rest, whose horses were very tired,
should come to our assistance.
About half an hour after sunrise we unexpectedly lighted on the pickets
of the enemy, who camped for the night in the Waterkloof valley, twenty
miles from Cradock. The pickets were charged and captured, and we seized
a position hardly 200 yards from the English, who had off-saddled at a
wall.
A brisk firing from both sides then ensued. The wall served the enemy in
good stead. From there they could fire volley after volley on us. But
gradually we crept nearer, until at last a few of the burghers had
passed the wall, and were now on the side of the enemy, so that the wall
could afford them no cover. While the men were trying to get on the
other side of the wall, one of my adjutants--Hugo, a lad of thirteen
summers--was killed, and two others wounded. But the British, now
exposed to a cross-fire, suffered heavily. Several of them dropped down,
either dead or wounded.
When I saw how untenable their position was becoming I sent in a flag of
truce, asking them to surrender, so as to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.
One of the officers sent word that, seeing Captain Spandow had already
fallen, and their losses were so great, he considered further
resistance useless.
We found that 15, including the captain, were killed, and 14 wounded.
Six of the wounded died soon after their surrender. One of their men was
at once sent to Cradock for an ambulance. Our losses were 1 killed and 2
wounded.
The men I had left behind had off-saddled, and so only arrived after the
enemy had surrendered. The officer, on inquiring where our men were, and
who had engaged them, only shook his head when I told him that we were
but 13, and that 3 of these had been put out of action almost at the
beginning of the engagement. The British numbered 84 in all. We were
again provided with a good supply of ammunition, and 105 horses in
excellent condition.
Some months later Major Warn's column was attacked at the same place by
Commandant L. Wessels. Several of the enemy's horses were shot down,
while a number of men were wounded. So suddenly had they to turn back,
that many a helmet dropped down and the owner had no inclination to pick
it up. The English had fallen once more into an awkward trap from which
they had to extricate themselves with the utmost speed.
On another occasion Commandant Fouché awaited the enemy at the same spot
and made about 150 prisoners. Long Kloof Valley has thus become a noted
place. The traveller passing through that valley will always be reminded
of the South African War on seeing the fourteen graves alongside the
road, and near to the stone wall.
SPRAGGE'S COLUMN CAPTURED.
The following report, bearing on Colonel Spragge's surrender, has been
submitted to me by my military secretary, R.D. McDonald.
"On the 27th of May, 1900, Spragge entered Lindley. Our commando
was then stationed at a farm eight miles to the north of the
village. General Colvile, whom Spragge was to have joined here,
left early on the morning of the 27th. What urged him on we could
not guess. Had he waited another day, Spragge would not have been
captured. We followed him up for some miles, and inflicted slight
losses on his rear.
"At noon the burghers returned to the laager. About an hour before
sunset our scouts returned with the news that the English had
reoccupied Lindley, and that it was but a small column _without_
guns. When the burghers heard that the column was only 500 strong,
and had no guns, they required no other inducements, but started
immediately for Lindley. Our men are, as a rule, more daring if
they discover that the enemy has no cannons at their disposal; the
big, monstrous guns they do not like. We had thus decided that this
detached column would receive every attention from us.
"The British, being warned by the dust in the distance that our
commando was coming, considered it wiser to quit the village, fall
back on Valsch River and occupy positions on the right bank of it.
Darkness had now set in, and we could do no more than place our
pickets round the column. We had, however, not enough men that
night to make sure that should the enemy try to escape they would
not succeed. Forsooth, we were greatly surprised to find them still
there the following morning. It seemed to us a little over-bold on
their part to stay on with only two Maxims at their command. We did
not know then that it would take us three and a half days, and some
precious lives, before the white flag would be hoisted. The next
day we surrounded them completely and thus knew that unless
reinforced they would have to surrender.
"Early in the morning firing commenced; but the enemy had occupied
during the night such strong positions--the hills and ridges on the
river banks--that they were quite secure. We had the bed of the
river, from whence we could not inflict such losses as would compel
the enemy to capitulate. They held the key of the positions, and
unless we could seize that stronghold, all our efforts would be
useless. The question was, how to take it. Without the assistance
of guns it was a dangerous and risky undertaking to charge that
particular position--a hill on the right bank of the river. Our
men, in charging it, would be exposed to a rifle and Maxim fire for
at least 800 yards. Under cover of guns, however, it was possible
to reach the hill. A gun was immediately sent for, and on the
evening of the third day of the siege it arrived at Lindley.
"That night the gun was placed in position, and at dawn the hill
was shelled. I stood watching the shells, as one after the other
exploded on the hill. Not a living object was visible, none
stirred, and so still (I shall not say at ease) did the English lie
in the skanzes that I remarked to Prinsloo: 'General, it seems the
enemy has abandoned the hill during the night, else we must already
have seen some signs of them.'
[Illustration: THE LINDLEY AFFAIR.]
"After we had bombarded the hill for some time, a number of
burghers charged it. Breathlessly we stood watching these gallant
chargers. Arrived at the foot of the hill, they dismounted, and
began climbing it. For some time all went well, when lo! a fire was
directed against them from the summit. Being quite coverless on the
slopes of the hill, they were forced to retreat. As they retreated
the enemy rose to their feet and fired as briskly as they could at
them. When we saw the English on top of the hill we mistook them
for Boers, and began to clap hands and cheer, thinking that the
hill had been taken by our men. We were soon disillusioned.
"As the burghers retreated, something strange and inexplicable
occurred, which really decided the fate of the enemy. It was this:
the burghers had hardly gone 300 yards, when the British abandoned
_en masse_ the hill, and retreated, almost as fast as the former,
in the opposite direction. Whether they feared another and more
determined onslaught, or whether there was the usual
misunderstanding, I wot not. Be it as it may, the position we so
coveted was abandoned; it was for us to seize it at once. With a
little encouragement the charge was repeated, the hill taken, and
in less than twenty minutes the white flag announced the surrender
of Spragge's column.
"Between 60 and 70 of the enemy were wounded and killed, while the
rest were made prisoners. It was their first interview with the
Boers. After a four days' siege a bath and a good meal must have
been welcome.
"From the veldt we took our surrendered friends to the village. The
wounded were placed in the local hospital, and the officers found
lodgings for the night in an hotel.
"I escorted Spragge to the village. On the way he had a long talk
with me about the war, and wished to know why the Free State had
cast in her lot with the Transvaal. He failed to see, and had to be
reminded that Free Staters and Transvaalers were essentially one
people; that the Vaal River divides the two States, but not the
people, as far as blood was concerned.
"On being asked why they had evacuated the hill, which was their
chief stronghold, he replied: 'That was a mistake.' We do not
object to such mistakes. If this had not been committed, Spragge
would in all probability have remained a free man, and his column
would not have fallen into our hands, for that was our last and
only chance. Early the next morning the reinforcements appeared on
the adjacent hills, but they were too late to rescue Spragge's
column. The prisoners were sent on to Reitz, and from there to the
Transvaal."
[Illustration: AN INTERESTING GROUP.
The three seated in the centre are MR. MCDONALD, COMMANDANT LOUIS
WESSELS, and the late LIEUT. P. TROSKIE.]
CHAPTER IV.
IN TIGHT CORNERS.
Daring the event to the teeth ...
And danger serves among them.
_Shakespeare._
Come, let us make an honourable retreat,
Though not with bag and baggage.
_Shakespeare._
The above heading may seem strange, and yet we presume that most
officers, as well as many privates, who had taken a leading part in the
late South African War can record many instances where they escaped by
the skin of the teeth.
How often a shell exploded like a thunder-clap in one's immediate
vicinity! How many a bullet just missed its mark as by a hair's breadth,
whizzing past the ear with lightning speed! Well I remember how, on one
occasion, a shell exploded right overhead with such tremendous force
that both rider and horse rolled in the dust by the violent concussion
produced by the explosion. The burghers, some distance away, watching
me, thought that would be the last of Kritzinger. To their surprise I
rose again, shook off the dust, mounted my steed, and rode on to the
position they were defending.
At present I shall not dwell on deliverances from the fire-spouting
machines of modern warfare, but confine my remarks to such escapes as
were connected with attempts on the part of the enemy, either to secure
my person or capture my commando. Here again I shall only cite some
instances; to relate all will be tedious to reader and writer alike.
In the beginning of July, 1901, just a few days after we had so
successfully attacked and taken James Town, we arrived at a farm
situated on the banks of the Kraai River, eighteen miles from Lady Grey.
Here was the enemy's opportunity.
The owner of the farm--Van der Merwe, a most loyal colonist--was not at
home, but, as we learnt afterwards, had gone to Lady Grey, or to the
nearest English column, to announce the presence of my commando in his
neighbourhood. Of this unfriendly deed we were altogether unaware.
As soon as we had off-saddled, our scouts were sent out in different
directions. In the evening they returned with the report that for miles
around us no traces of the enemy were to be seen. The pickets for the
night were then put out on the three main roads leading to the farm,
which was in a valley almost entirely encompassed by high and rugged
mountains.
With my pickets out I felt at ease. I went to the farm-house, had
dinner, got a room, and laid myself down to enjoy the night's rest, on
which the enemy was soon to intrude so violently.
About 2 A.M. one of the pickets came to the laager to report a noise,
which sounded like the tramp of horses, but he could not, on account of
the intense darkness, see any objects. Warned by this report, we began
to make preparations for an attack. Veldt Cornet Kruger was at once
ordered to ascertain the truth of the report. But before he had left the
camp one of the burghers came back and assured us that it was a herd of
cattle.
Thus reassured, we betook ourselves to rest. Rest? No, certainly not.
The foe is at hand. No sooner had we wrapped ourselves up in the
blankets when, behold! rifle reports grated on our ears. The herd of
cattle was nothing else than Colonel Scobell's column. Alas! our pickets
had been cut off and hence could not report on the enemy.
Imagine our position! I began dressing as fast as I could, faster than
ever before in my life. So near was the enemy, that when I reached the
back door of the house in which I slept they had already entered by the
front door. Had it not been for some plucky burghers the enemy would
have completely cut off my exit and I would have been captured.
Fortunately the way was still open at the back door. What a scene I
witnessed outside! Friend and foe were so intermingled, and engaged in
hand-to-hand fight, that it was impossible to distinguish the one from
the other. Right in front of the door the gallant Commandant Calmon
Cächet was wrestling with an opponent that proved too strong for him.
Next to him a certain Grobler had floored his man, and was handling him
so roughly that the poor fellow called for help. The one who was too
strong for Cächet left him to render assistance to his brother in
adversity. Grobler then left his prey, and both he and Cächet seized
their rifles and made for better regions.
Thinking that it might be only a patrol of the enemy that had come upon
us incidentally and not intentionally, I tried hard to get the rather
panic-stricken burghers into action. At a gate through which they had to
pass I stopped them, and ordered them back. We soon noticed, however,
how serious our position was; in fact, that we were surrounded on every
side, and would have to fight our way through and out.
At about 3.30 A.M. the British brought their guns into action. The
mountains resounded with the explosion of the shells, and the night was
illuminated by the flashes of the guns. The fireworks were magnificent
beyond description, but ... we had no inclination to admire them under
such circumstances.
The next morning we counted our losses: ten burghers were captured, two
wounded and one killed. One hundred and thirty horses were missing, most
of the men were without saddles, and only a few had blankets.
This was indeed a surprise, and yet we were astonished that, after all,
any of us did escape. So eager was the enemy to secure my person, that
they did not attend to the burghers, whom they had disarmed, but simply
flung their rifles aside and left them to themselves. The men, thus
disarmed, instantly picked up their rifles and "trapt," _i.e._, ran off.
Thus very few of them were without rifles the following day.
Our feelings cannot be easily described. There were forty-six men who
had to go on foot. A large number had no saddles. I lost all my horses.
The only hope we entertained was that the British Government would soon
restore our property. What we regretted most was the loss of our men.
Two of our pickets were caught, the remaining six, when charged and cut
off, had taken refuge in a deep ditch, where they remained until the
enemy had left, and then found their way back to the commando.
My next escape, though not exposed to the enemy's fire, and perhaps not
even known to them, was probably the narrowest I had during the whole
campaign.
We were again hard pressed by two columns. Our horses being very tired,
we were obliged to rest them for a short while, even at the risk of
falling into the hands of the enemy. Our way led through a valley,
bordered on both sides by huge mountain ranges which for at least six
miles ran parallel.
On the side of the road, half-way up the valley, was a farmstead where
we off-saddled and gave our horses some fodder. The two columns which
were on our track had been coming nearer. Fortunately darkness was
setting in. When the front column was a short distance from us, we
saddled and went to a dense bush close to the road. In that bush we
delayed, till the first column had passed us and advanced some distance.
As the second was only one or two miles behind the first, and as we were
not sure whether it would also pass, we fell in behind the first; there
was but one road.
We were now between two columns. We rode on as quietly as we could,
hardly a whisper was heard. The slightest noise on our part could betray
our presence. We were so close to the front column that we could
distinctly hear the rumbling of wheels and the tramp of horses. Should
the progress of the column be in any way obstructed, hereby causing a
standstill, the one at our rear would inevitably press us upon the front
one. What cold drops of perspiration rolled over my forehead! How I held
my breath! Who shall describe the anxiety of such moments? There was but
one way open--the way to the stars and the Throne beyond the stars.
Before and behind us the foe, on both sides mountains, so steep and
rugged that it would be folly even to attempt to climb them. Wistfully
we looked up.
After riding some distance we met a native that belonged to the front
column. He had tarried a little too long. We addressed him in English,
and thus put him off the scent altogether. Mistaking us for English, he
told us all he knew about the different columns. In this way we rode
along, gradually approaching the extremity of the two ranges. Out at
last! How relieved we felt can hardly be imagined. Once more we breathed
freely. The poor native! How startled he was when he discovered his
mistake, and learnt that he was then a prisoner, and had to accompany
us.
On the 13th of October, 1901, the enemy had very ingeniously laid a trap
for me, and had almost drawn me into it.
At that time we were in the district of Wepener, a village on the
Basutoland border. Several British columns were then operating in that
district. As so many were concentrated there, it was extremely hazardous
and difficult for small commandoes, such as ours, to move during the
daytime. The space between the Caledon River and Basutoland in which we
could move becoming daily more and more circumscribed and limited, we
determined to cross the Caledon River. Besides, we heard that the river
was rising, and so were anxious to ford it before it was in flood.
On the evening of the 12th of October we set out in the direction of the
river. At 10 P.M. we arrived at a farm, where we halted till 1 A.M. It
was our intention to stop at this farm for the night, but owing to some
strange foreboding of imminent danger I resolved to leave; and at 1
A.M. gave orders to saddle. As it was a very dark and cold night, some
of the burghers felt reluctant to leave, and I heard them saying, "What
is up again to-night with General Kritzinger? Surely we are perfectly
safe here! Why trek again in the bitter cold at midnight?" But my orders
had to be obeyed, and at 2 A.M. we were on the march.
Five of the men, who could not find their horses in the dark, were left
behind to seek them when it was light. At daybreak that farm was
surrounded and shelled by the enemy. Had we remained there we would have
been in a sad plight; the five men were all captured. We escaped, but
there was another trap for the next day. We off-saddled at a farm three
miles from the river. Commandant Wessels, three burghers and myself rode
to the Drift--"Basters Drift"--to see whether the stream was still
fordable.
Little dreaming that the enemy was concealed on the opposite bank of the
river, behind the ruins of an old homestead, and was watching us as we
gradually approached the river, we entered the stream and waded through
it. Arrived on the opposite side we sent one of the men back to call the
commando, for the river was rising rapidly. The other two burghers were
sent to reconnoitre ahead, while Wessels and myself remained on the bank
of the river.
Scarcely had the two men left us, when we were startled by rifle reports
close by. We jumped up, ran to our horses, and saw that we were hardly
100 yards away from the enemy. All we could do was to recross the river,
and that had to take place in a shower of bullets. Let one imagine
himself in a swollen river, so deep that his horse has to swim now and
then, and the foe on the bank directing an incessant fire on him, and he
will realise to some extent our position. We reached the bank safely,
but had to do another 800 yards to get out of harm's way.
The two men we had sent ahead--what became of them? Alas! they rode into
the jaws of death, for when they discovered the enemy they were hardly
15 yards from them. "Hands up!" resounded from behind the wall. The men,
rather than surrender and sacrifice their commando, made an ill-fated
attempt at escape. In the twinkling of an eye they were shot down. The
one--a young Trichard from Cradock--was dead on the spot; three bullets
penetrated his body. The other--young Wessels from Winburg--was wounded
in the leg and captured.
These two brave young men were the means of saving Wessels and myself
either from being captured or shot. And not only that, but their gallant
action, in which the one forfeited his life, and the other a limb,
proved the salvation of the whole commando. If they had surrendered
Wessels and I would probably have gone in the same direction, and the
commando would have followed, and so all of us would have been in a
terrible predicament. But they had risked their lives to save us from
certain destruction.
Failing to ford the river at that drift, we proceeded down-stream with
the hope of crossing it somewhere else. To our disappointment the river
had risen to such a degree that the only transit still left could be a
bridge. Now there was but one far down the stream, and it was very
doubtful whether that was not held by the enemy. Anyway, we were going
to try, and so marching almost all the whole night we arrived at the
bridge a little after sunrise. How glad we were to find the bridge still
unoccupied! We had just reached it in time, for half an hour after we
had gone over the British took possession of it. They had now completed
their cordon; but we--were out of the circle.
On the 22nd of the same month we were once again in tight
corners--surrounded by three columns.
As we found no rest either for ourselves or our animals in the
south-eastern districts of the Orange Free State, we resolved to go to
the Winburg and Ladybrand districts.
The enemy had pitched their camps all along the main road from
Reddersburg to Dewetsdorp, and from there to Wepener. These stations
were from six to eight miles apart, and formed a kind of fence. Through
this line we had to pass, as well as the blockhouse line extending from
Bloemfontein to Ladybrand, _via_ Thaba 'Nchu.
We left at dusk, got safely through the camp-line, and rode on till 2
A.M., when we arrived at a certain farm. We went to the house to make
inquiries as to the enemy. A woman opened the door, and on learning who
we were, informed us that a quarter of an hour from her home an English
column was encamped. How disgusting! We had been in the saddle from
sunset to 2 A.M. and here we were, just a quarter of an hour from the
enemy. We thought and hoped that we were then at least twelve miles from
the nearest column. Why not engage them? the reader might ask. Well, we
did. But our horses, which had to live on the tender grass-shoots,
needed a rest very badly; we could hardly use them. Besides, there was a
blockhouse-line to pass the following night, and this one was still 24
miles off.
We proceeded another three miles, to be at least four miles from that
column. At about 2.30 we off-saddled. Being not quite at ease we rose
after a short rest and re-saddled. Two scouts were sent to a hill close
by. To their surprise they found the enemy's pickets stationed on the
same kopje, at the foot of which the British camp was pitched. Having
said "good-morning" to each other in military fashion the two returned
with the unwelcome news that the enemy was just next door. We had slept
side by side without knowing of each other. Ignorance was bliss that
night.
This column--about 200 strong--on discerning us, at once prepared for
action. Though very tired, we took up positions and began to engage the
advancing foe. We succeeded in checking their progress, and certainly
had the best of the situation till noon, when the scene was changed. My
scouts returned with the alarming report that two other columns were
advancing on us from Thaba 'Nchu.
I saw that we could not afford to lose a moment, for the two columns
were not far apart, nor at any great distance from us. If we should
continue the fight with the one the others would meet and we would be
surrounded. Hence I gave instructions to the men to fall back. The
report reached us unfortunately too late--our exit was already cut off.
The enemy had occupied positions all around us, and there we were, right
in the centre of a circle whose circumference consisted of an unbroken
line of enemies. My secretary, who had never before been in such a
circle, asked me: "Now, General, what now? What is our next move?" "We
must charge that column in front of us," I replied, and, suiting the
action to the word, we went off as fast as our tired horses could go,
making straight for the enemy. This was too much for them; they first
halted, and then--retreated to a ridge about 1700 yards to their left.
This retreat afforded us an exit. We were, however, exposed to a
cross-fire for fully three miles, but it proved ineffectual, for only
one burgher was slightly wounded.
If the enemy had not retreated that day, or had only occupied a certain
brook, through which we had to pass, it would have been impossible for
us to escape. But if there were no _ifs_ there would not have been such
a lamentable war in South Africa. Neither would such unpardonable
blunders have been committed.
We were glad that the enemy had allowed us to pass. That night we
crossed the fighting-line near to Sprinkhaan's Nek, where General De Wet
and his men had such a hot reception.
BETWEEN TWO RIVERS AND FIVE COLUMNS.
On the evening of the 14th of March, 1901, my commando crossed the Tarka
River, after which Tarka Stad is named. As heavy rains were falling we
bivouacked not far from the river. There in the veldt, without any
shelter, we spent a miserable night, for we were exposed to incessant
showers, which drenched us to the very skin. But there was something
even worse in store for us the following day.
Having crossed the Tarka River, we were between that river and another
called Vlekpoort River, which flows into the Tarka some six miles from
where we had forded the latter.
The following morning we rode to a farm near by. There we off-saddled,
fed our horses, and began to prepare our breakfast. How stiff, cold and
hungry we were! We could hardly wait until the meat was thoroughly
broiled. Just as we began to satisfy the pangs of hunger the scouts
came back, and once more it was "opzaal! opzaal!" (saddle! saddle!). We
knew what it meant. The enemy was on our heels.
Two columns were on our right flank, between the two rivers. One had
followed us up, and was then on the banks of the Tarka River; another
was encamped in front of us on the banks of the Vlekpoort River; whilst
a fifth was stationed near the confluence of the two streams. Thus five
columns all around us; and the problem to be solved was, how to get out
of the net.
This problem we solved in a practical manner. We occupied at once the
strongest positions we could find, and, fortunately for us, between the
rivers were natural positions so strong, that, with a small number of
men, it was possible to hold one's own against great odds. These
positions we seized, and were determined to stand or fall thereby. We
would fight to the last cartridge, and then try and break through the
cordon during the night.
In the meanwhile the enemy had drawn nearer. At about 8 A.M. the
fighting commenced. From different directions shell after shell was
hurled upon us. Again and again the enemy charged us, but was beaten
back with greater loss to themselves than to us. Retreat? We could not.
Surrender? That was out of the question; so from morn till sunset we
clung to our positions, as though we were tied to them, and defended our
persons as resolutely as possible.
Just as the sun was setting we stormed one of the enemy's positions. And
although three of the burghers were wounded, the rest succeeded in
expelling the enemy. Our way was now open; when darkness set in we could
recross the Tarka. A pom-pom fire was opened upon us from the column on
our left flank as we crossed the stream, which was then so high that our
horses had to swim. Owing to the darkness none were injured.
The following day we had the pleasure of capturing the Commandant of
Tarka Stad with his escort. The enemy was so sure of our surrender that
a report was sent to Tarka Stad to the effect that we were quite
surrounded, and that they hoped to deliver us the following morning at 8
o'clock. And as they might require some more ammunition to force us to
surrender, the military must forward some.
The commandant of the village was taking this ammunition out when we met
him. His men, riding in twos and threes at some distance apart, were
disarmed by us without wasting bullets on them. At last the commandant,
who happened to be some distance behind, came riding up to us. As he
came on I rode up to him and said in a friendly tone: "Old chap, you'd
better let me have your gun." Thinking that I was imposing upon him, he
said: "Come along; don't play the fool!" When I had assured him that I
was in earnest he remarked: "But surely you are not a Boer. Kritzinger's
commando is the only one in the district, and that is surrounded." Then
taking the report out of his pocket he said: "Just read
this--'Kritzinger surrounded, will be captured and brought in
to-morrow.'" Imagine his astonishment on learning that he was then
addressing the very man whom he had hoped to meet as a prisoner-of-war.
He handed me his rifle. After that we had a long conversation, and
enjoyed a drink together, as though we had never been at war.
The ammunition and horses were confiscated, and came in very useful
after the engagement of the previous day. The commandant and his party
were then dismissed.
AGAINST THE RAILWAY.
Towards the end of July, 1901, large forces of the enemy had
concentrated upon my commando. Our only salvation then lay in crossing
the Port Elizabeth railway line, near which we then were.
After a day's fighting we set out to the line, but to our great
disappointment and embarrassment we found the line securely guarded by
armoured trains, which made it impossible for us to cross during the
day.
The enemy had followed us up, and there was no chance of retracing our
steps. All we could do was to resist the foe till it was dark, and then
try to escape. This we did, and succeeded in repelling the enemy. The
burghers fought bravely, but at sunset they were forced to evacuate
their positions and withdraw to a mountain next to the railway line.
This was our last position. We could go no farther. In front of us was
the railway, behind and on our flanks the British columns. Indeed, an
uncomfortable situation! We fought until it was quite dark; then the
firing ceased, and we had time to plan an escape. And this is what we
did. At 11 o'clock that evening numerous fires were kindled on the top
of the mountain. We knew that these fires would be misleading; the
enemy, as long as they saw the lights, would think that we were still on
the mountain, and, being less watchful, we might slip through.
At 12 o'clock we saddled. We were going to try to pass through the
enemy's line. On we rode, silently and guided by the sentinels' fires;
we knew exactly which spots to avoid. Every moment brought us nearer to
our doom or deliverance. Shall we succeed or not? we anxiously asked
ourselves. Unnoticed we passed the foe and were free once more.
The next morning only the ashes of our fires were surrounded. As a
shower of rain had fallen the same night, wiping out the footprints of
our horses, the British certainly wondered what became of us. The Boers
had again disappeared so mysteriously.
I shall conclude this chapter with two striking incidents. On the 13th
of August, 1901, we came in conflict with the British forces in the
district of Venterstad, Cape Colony. During the engagement I observed
that the enemy was bent on a certain position which, if seized, would
enable them to surround us. Now the Boer never likes to be surrounded.
There is nothing that he dreads so much as a siege. To keep my way open,
I took a number of burghers, and with these occupied the position
referred to. Having stationed them there I rode back to the hill where I
had been before. Unfortunately this hill had been deserted in the
meanwhile, and was then held by the enemy.
Seeing a number of horses at the base of the hill I concluded that the
burghers were still there and thus rode on without the slightest
apprehension. Arrived at the foot of the hill, I looked up, and to my
astonishment saw a large greyhound with the men. This made me
suspicious. One of them at once called out: "Hands up! Come here, you
beggar!" I was with the wrong party. Surrender? Verily not. I turned my
horse, gave spurs, and off we went, horse and rider carried, as it were,
by bullets which whistled past my head with deafening noise. For a
considerable distance I was exposed to this shower of bullets. My horse
received two wounds, but brought me out unscathed. That night I was cut
off from the commando, and all the burghers thought that I was shot or
captured. To their delight and surprise I joined them the next day
again. That same day I was to have as marvellous an escape as the day
before.
From early morn we were engaging the foe. While the fight was going on I
took nine men to occupy a certain hill. This hill was already in the
possession of the enemy, but we were not conscious of that, and thus
unwittingly rode on to our doom.
The enemy had carefully hidden on the hill, and without challenging us
opened a terrible fire upon us just as we arrived at the foot of the
hill. Seeing that we were only a small party it certainly was not manly
on their part to fire before challenging us. All the men but one were
instantly wounded or killed, and their horses shot down. One of them
escaped on foot. Strange--perhaps incredible to some--I came out with my
horse and that uninjured.
At the close of the war I met the officer who was in command on that
hill. He told me that as we came riding up to the hill he recognised me
and told his men: "There, Kritzinger is coming; let us make sure of
him." I happened to be riding a black horse, taken from one Captain
King. That horse was so well known to the enemy that at a great distance
they could recognise me.
These are some of the narrow corners in which we found ourselves during
the war. I could multiply them, but 'tis needless. They will give the
reader some idea of what we often had to pass through.
CHAPTER V.
TO THE CAPE COLONY.
From March to December, 1901, the area of war operations was limited
exclusively to the two Republics. All the British forces were
concentrated there. Gradually the fact dawned upon us that, unless we
contrived to draw the British forces, in some way or other, off the
Republics, the latter would eventually be exhausted of all provisions,
which would necessitate their surrender. They could not for ever supply
Boer commandoes and British columns with provisions, especially when
farming pursuits were so disturbed and hampered by the enemy. It became
quite clear that, in the event of a long campaign, our whole salvation
would be in the Cape Colony. There we would be drawing on the enemy's
resources, and the British Government would indirectly be supporting us
in compensating colonists for losses sustained by Boer commandoes. An
additional advantage, should the scene of operations be transferred from
the Republics to the Cape Colony, would be that many colonists would
enlist in our ranks. There we should be constantly recruited, and our
commandoes would increase rather than decrease. That was an advantage
not to be despised, for our forces were getting daily weaker in the
states.
[Illustration: GENERAL CHRISTIAN DE WET.]
With such facts before him, General De Wet planned a second invasion of
the Cape Colony towards the close of the year 1901. By the end of
November we met him with his forces, about 1500 strong, in the district
of Bethulie. After a few days' fighting with the forces of General Knox
on the farms Goede Hoop and Willoughby, we left for the Orange River,
which we intended to ford at Odendaal's Stroom, a drift fifteen miles
below Aliwal North.
As heavy rains began to fall, we were anxious to reach the river before
it was in flood. Day and night through rain and mud we ploughed on
towards the river. When we reached the Caledon River we saw that the
water was rising rapidly, and began to fear that the Orange River, which
was still thirty miles off, would be impassable. Well, we were going to
try. We increased our speed, and left behind scores of tired horses and
mules.
The 1st of December, at sunset, we arrived on the banks of the river.
But what a disappointment! A rolling mass of water before us, so deep
and strong that there was no chance to pass through. And there we were
between two rivers in flood, with a narrow strip of country between
them, and thousands of the enemy on our track. We knew that the English
could seize the bridges, of which there are but a few, and could then be
reinforced from all parts of the country to hem us in so closely that
escape would be impossible. De Wet would at last be "cornered" and
forced to surrender--so, at least, the enemy thought. Our situation
seemed, nay was indeed, very critical.
To delay and wait for the fall of the river was out of the question. For
not only would it take at least fifteen days before the river would have
subsided to such a degree that we could hope to ford it, but De Wet's
old friend, General Knox, was at his heels. All we could do was to march
up the Caledon. That river, being much smaller than the Orange River,
would sooner fall and afford us a way of escape. Our hopes were
realised. De Wet found a ford where he and his whole commando passed
through. Once more he was a free man. We accompanied him for some
distance up the river, until we came to the farm of one Smith. Here
Captain Scheepers, Captain Fouché and myself left the main body and went
with our commando, consisting of about 300 men in all, in the direction
of Rouxville, where, on the 13th of December, we captured 150 of the 2nd
Brabants, who were sent to and _for_ us.
While in the Rouxville district we received a message from De Wet that
we should enter the Colony as soon as possible, and that he would try to
follow us up. He was, however, prevented from carrying out his
intentions. It seemed as if Providence had so ordained it that he should
not cross the Orange River, or, even crossing it, should not sojourn for
a long time in the land of the enemy. For no sooner had he passed the
Caledon, than the enemy concentrated on him and succeeded in driving him
back through Sprinkhaan Nek to the northern districts of the Orange Free
State.
This, however, afforded us a chance of slipping through on to British
soil. In the night of the 15th of December, at 2 A.M., we forded the
Orange River at a point five miles below Odendaal's Stroom. It was a
dark night, and the water was still very high, but we all reached the
opposite bank in safety. There we came upon the guard of the drift, as
they were indulging in a game of cards. One was wounded, two ran away
and eight were captured. They did not expect us to cross the river at 2
A.M., and were thus taken unawares.
We were now once more in British territory. But what a contrast between
this and our first invasion in the beginning of the war! No large
commandoes, no waggons, and no guns. We were only 300 men--a raiding
band, as some contemptuously called us--with one Maxim, and even that
proved too cumbersome, for we soon cast it into a pool. Instead of
waggons and tents we had only our horses and mackintoshes, and some were
even without the latter. No large supplies of ammunition; our bandoliers
were almost all half empty.
The morning of the 16th of December, then, found us in the Cape Colony.
We had made up our minds to spend at least some months in the enemy's
country. Come what may, we would not return to the Orange Free State. If
the British had the right to stay in the Republics, why should we not
tarry awhile in the Colony? From the river we made a forced march to
Venterstad, a small village lower down the stream. We needed an
outfitting, and thought that that would be the most likely place where
we would get it. We only had to surprise the garrison, about 50 strong,
and we would have all we wanted. In this we were quite successful. The
garrison, or town-guard, soon hoisted the white flag.
We could now fill our bandoliers, and requisition the necessary articles
in clothing, boots, etc. But the enemy was not slow to follow us. We
were just allowed sufficient time to take all we required, and then the
columns came to remind us that we were strangers and intruders.
As we have related our experiences in other chapters, we shall not here
enter into details. For at least seven months, after we had crossed the
river, the enemy continually harassed us. We hardly enjoyed a single
day's rest. During the day we had to fight, and during the night we had
to trek. One thing was plain: the enemy was determined to silence us
completely. That they did not succeed is almost passing strange. If 300
Britishers were to have entered the two republics, would they have
proceeded very far?
General Hertzog had, at the same time, invaded the western province of
the Cape Colony, but, being far away from the railway line, the British
did not worry him very much. They all seemed to conspire against my
small band, and had the additional advantage of railways on every side
of us. Deeper and deeper into the heart of the Colony we were driven. We
marched in a southern direction. Whither? We did not know, only forward.
And so far did we push on that at length the vast expanse of the Indian
Ocean loomed in the distance, and reminded us that it was time to
retrace our steps, for we could certainly go no farther on horseback. So
we slipped through the pursuing columns, and returned to the districts
of Jansenville, Graaff-Reinet and Cradock.
In February we were not so hotly pursued. De Wet had entered the Cape
Colony from the north-west; and like a magnet he drew most of the
British forces irresistibly to him. This gave us a short rest, which
was, alas! only too short. For De Wet, as well as Hertzog, had to fall
back on the Orange Free State, and with redoubled energy the British
came upon us like a mighty avalanche. The reader can hardly realise
what we had to undergo these first eight months in the Cape Colony.
It was a bitter disappointment to learn how De Wet had fared and that
both he and Hertzog had abandoned the Cape Colony. We knew it was not
their fault and so did not blame them. Still we were resolved to hold
out as long as possible. Gradually it went better; the colonists began
to enlist and our numbers swelled. We could now form other commandos,
and despatch these in various directions, and that prevented the enemy
from concentrating all their forces on us. At last we had gained such a
strong footing in the Colony that to expel us all was simply an
impossibility.
And how did General De Wet fare when he crossed the Orange River on the
11th of February, 1901? The following account given by one who
accompanied him will give the reader some idea of the unsuccessful
attempt at invasion.
"MY DEAR K.,--We are just back from the Cape Colony, and no doubt
you will be anxious to hear all about our recent experiences. I
daresay you have followed us all the while in thought, and have
carefully studied the papers to ascertain our movements and learn
what we were doing. As we have little faith in newspaper
war-reports, I shall take the trouble to give you a full account of
our short-lived colonial invasion.
"You will be surprised, and perhaps sorely disappointed, to hear
that De Wet's and Hertzog's commandoes are all back in the Orange
Free State. This means that you are going to have now ever so much
harder times, for the enemy will certainly concentrate their forces
on your small commando, to clear you out of the Cape Colony as soon
as possible. The odds, of course, will be so great to contend
against, that, humanly speaking, you will be bound to retreat
across the Orange River. Still I trust that you will not follow our
example, but will find the Colony quite large enough to baffle the
enemy in their attempts to capture you. And as the British have
already exerted themselves in vain for over three months to oust
you, we entertain the hope that you will maintain your ground till
reinforced.
"On the 11th of February we, _i.e._, General P. Fourie's division,
crossed the Orange River at Zanddrift, west of Philippolis. De Wet
had taken possession of the drift the previous day, so our way was
open, and as the river was low it was not difficult to ford it.
With the exception of a few mules we sustained no losses. It was
somewhat like a picnic, the burghers were as gay as could be. Being
a very hot day they spent most of the time in the water. The guns
and some other vehicles were dragged through the river by teams
composed of sprightly young men. It was a sight to see 70 or 80 men
before a gun or waggon in the stream. I could not help thinking in
what a plight these would be should the enemy suddenly appear on
the banks of the river. That, indeed, would be a surprise worth
beholding. At sunset we were all on British soil.
"After the burghers had taken supper the whistle was blown and the
oft-repeated command, 'opzaal,' sounded in their ears. That night
we did not make a long trek, for both horses and men felt equally
tired after the day's exertions. Still we had to cover at least
eight miles, for it was not quite safe so near to the river. There
were columns behind and columns in front of us, and columns on
every side. After a wearisome march over a rugged and uneven road,
if road it could be called, with intense darkness enveloping us, we
finally reached the halting-place.
"The following morning at sunrise we started for Bezuidenhoud's
farm, which was close by. There the burghers received their
instructions from De Wet. With regard to their conduct in the Cape
Colony it was pointed out to them that they should treat the
colonists in such a way as would ensure their friendship. On no
account were they to molest the peaceful neutral British subjects,
for they were not at war with the colonists. They were also
forbidden to take anything from British subjects without paying the
proper value for the thing required. There were some more
injunctions, which have escaped my memory. No wonder that one
should forget when chased as we were. I believe these orders were,
as a rule, obeyed. In fact I should say we erred in adhering so
strictly to them, for we met some ultra-loyalists who would not
give or sell us so much as a morsel of food. Now when any one is
hungry, and people will neither give nor sell, what else can he do
than help himself? If he does not, it is his own fault should he
starve. At a certain farm we offered a sovereign for one bucket of
meal, but all in vain; when we asked the woman for a glass of
water, she pointed us to a spring some distance off. Shameful, is
it not! Next time we shall, I am afraid, not be so over-polite. One
learns a lot every day.
"At 11 A.M. our scouts reported that they had sighted two columns
about 7 miles from us. And now our troubles and hardships
commenced. What we anticipated and dreaded had actually taken
place. The enemy had occupied all the passes in front of us,
preventing us thereby from crossing the railway at the intended
point between Norval's Pont and Colesberg. We had now to go in that
barren and desolate part of the Colony where one is entirely
dependent upon forage, and where, unfortunately for us, none was to
be had.
"I expected that the British would intercept us. They knew about De
Wet's intended invasion; and had every facility by rail for
mobilising and seizing all the points of consequence. Whilst we had
to ride all the way from Winburg district, they had the advantage
of being transported by rail--an advantage which can hardly be
over-estimated.
"Encumbered with guns and waggons, we could not dodge the enemy. We
either had to seize the passes or proceed in a direction which
might lead to fatal results. To do the former appeared impossible
to De Wet, and so the latter course was reluctantly adopted. If it
were not for the convoy, we would have achieved our object and
would have entered those districts where commandoes could exist.
"The enemy was engaged till dusk. We had no casualties; but
Commandant Ross and a number of his men were cut off. They managed
to reach the Orange Free State safely. How they found their way
through the various columns, I can't say--a Boer, if need be, can
retire wonderfully well! At sunset our convoy almost fell into the
hands of the enemy. What a pity it did not! It would have saved us
so much needless trouble, and we would have been far better off
without it.
"Most of the night we remained in the saddle. The General was
anxious to get as far away as possible from the columns, to rest
his horses for a few hours. But the British, so it seemed, were
resolved that neither we nor our horses should have a rest, for
early the next morning they were on our heels. We could not offer
any resistance, because we had no positions, and could not
recklessly expose ourselves to the enemy's fire without any cover
at all. On the open plain our horses would have been swept away by
the enemy's guns, and in a short time we would have been all
infantry. Hence, on their approach we withdrew, hoping to find a
place where we could make a stand. Unfortunately we failed to find
the wished-for positions. For miles and miles the country is just
one vast plain; when you get to the end of that plain you may find
a ridge, a hill or slight elevation, which, however, did not
signify much. The enemy could easily outflank and surround us, if
we did not abandon it in time. With eyelids "heavy and dim," and
bodies "weary and worn," exposed to the dazzling rays of a burning
sun, we rode on, driven occasionally as a herd of cattle. At last
night fell and we could enjoy a short rest.
"The next morning the same story was repeated: the English hot on
our track--no rest for body or soul. The country being as flat as
the part we had traversed the previous day, we had to march again
the whole day under a burning sun. Now and then we dismounted for a
few minutes, in order that our horses might snatch a few mouthfuls
of grass.
"At the hour of sunset there was something to relieve the monotony
of fleeing all day. Two burghers--bread spies as we call them--had
gone ahead to buy some bread at a farm where a party of the enemy
was stationed. Not aware of that, they rode up to the house, with
the result that one got captured, while the other returned under a
hail of bullets at a breakneck pace to relate the fate of his
comrade. De Wet immediately sent in a note asking the enemy to
surrender, since they numbered only about twenty. They answered
shortly: 'We won't.' They were then charged, and up went the white
flag without their firing a single shot.
"For the night we bivouacked at that farm. The British columns were
now scarcely four miles from us. We dreaded a night attack, but,
owing to incessant rain, both parties seemed only too glad to stay
where they were. Here we had the advantage of hills and ridges,
where we could stand and face the foe.
"At sunrise the enemy's guns and Maxim-Nordenveldt began to play on
these ridges. Our guns had been placed in position, too, and
responded sharply. We succeeded in beating off the enemy's attacks
till 11 A.M., then we were outflanked and had to evacuate our
positions. Their losses must have been great. Two of our men fell
in the action.
"From there we marched in the direction of the railway line, which
we intended to cross that night near Houtkraal station. We were
about seven miles from the line, and were very anxious to pass
over. We were afraid that the English would send on their forces by
rail to guard the line and march upon us from in front, which, if
done, could result in our complete annihilation. Besides, we
intended, as soon as we were on the other side of the line, to
divide our force into several commandoes and let these take
different courses so that the enemy would not be able to
concentrate any longer all their men on us. Thus wearily we dragged
on through mud and rain to the line.
"To prevent armoured trains from cutting off our transit, men were
sent ahead to destroy the line at two points. Here again we
committed a few blunders for which we had to suffer. In the first
instance the line was blown up at too early an hour that night,
long before we were ready to pass over. The explosions reported our
presence, and the armoured trains were despatched to restore the
line. Then again, owing to the darkness the points where the line
was destroyed were not sufficiently far apart. This we discovered
when the enemy's guns began to roar and their shells exploded in
our midst.
"Before reaching the line there was something to get through--a
swamp at least 1500 paces broad. One can hardly have an idea what
this swamp was like, and how much trouble it cost us and our poor
animals to get through it. This was a veritable 'Slough of
Despond.' It was covered with water from one side to the other, and
we had to wade through knee deep, and sometimes the water reached
to our loins. The water was no serious obstacle, but the ground was
of a morass-like nature that our animals sank in to their knees and
often to their girths. Most of the burghers had to dismount and
lead their horses. Every now and then a horse would stumble, and
down came the rider splashing in the mud and water. I led my
faithful 'Klein Booi' all the way, walking knee deep through mud
and water. Just think how we must have looked the following
morning, with clogs of mud attached to our clothes, hands and
faces, while our horses were baptised in mud! The waggons and guns
gave us most trouble. It was quite impossible to get these through
the swamp. They stuck in the mud, with draft animals and all. We
had as many as fifty oxen before one waggon, but they could not
move it an inch. Some mules sank in so deep that they could not
extricate themselves, and were left to die in the mud!
"At daybreak the guns, De Wet's waggonette and a few carts were
through the swamp; the rest of the convoy was still in it. General
Fourie and a hundred burghers were left with the waggons while the
commando proceeded to the line. At sunrise we were safely on the
other side of the line, where we waited for Fourie. Suddenly, and
very unexpectedly, a shell exploded in our midst, like a
thunderbolt from a clear sky. I looked about to see whence it came;
but before my eyes detected the armoured trains, another and yet
another shell dropped in our midst. I say _in our midst_, for we
were riding in close formation when these horrible projectiles were
hurled upon us. As our horses were very tired and the veldt soaked
through and through by the heavy rains, we could not scatter, nor
ride fast, as we usually do when exposed to cannon fire in the open
veldt. Thus slowly we rode on under this cannonade. And how
wonderful none were injured! The hand of the invisible omnipresent
God must have shielded us. At last we were out of the cannon's
reach. Meanwhile the line had been repaired, the armoured trains
moved freely up and down. Fourie, five other officers, and about a
hundred burghers were now cut off from the commando. The burghers
found their way back to the Free State; the officers followed us
up, but, alas! met us only when we were on the point of recrossing
the Orange River.
"In what a sorry plight we now were! Some of our ablest officers
severed from us at a time when they were most needed. Their absence
caused the greatest confusion, for now there were numbers of men
without any officers. Besides, it was then impossible to carry out
the idea of splitting up the commando without officers. Hence we
were to be driven along by the overwhelming numbers at our rear.
How many there were is hard to tell, but we caught up some of their
despatches, from which we learnt that there were no fewer than
fourteen columns in pursuit of us.
"Gradually we drifted into the most deplorable and wretched
conditions. Our animals, owing to lack of fodder, began to give in.
Scores of these we had to leave behind, some of them in excellent
condition, but so starved that they could proceed no farther. The
result was that hundreds of burghers had to walk, and they suffered
most. How I felt for these unfortunates! They walked and walked
until, exhausted and footsore, many a one dropped down along the
road-side. There were those whose clothes were torn to fragments by
the brambles through which they forced their way. They presented an
appearance which evoked one's compassion.
"These men had to confront another enemy--hunger. They scarcely
found time to prepare a meal, for when they arrived at the
halting-place the first word they heard was, as a rule, "opzaal!"
Thus footsore, battered, and with empty stomachs, these fellows had
to march for miles and miles to escape the enemy's grip.
"I admired their power of endurance, patience, and determination.
But admiration was not enough. I parted with all my horses, giving
them to men who could walk no longer, and so walked on myself,
until, footsore and exhausted, I too could go no farther. It was a
pleasure to minister in this way to men who loved their country.
"If it were not for this determination on the part of De Wet's
forces to keep out of the hands of the enemy, hundreds would have
been captured, yet I believe not more than 250 prisoners were
taken. As we went on our numbers gradually diminished. Those who
were unable to keep pace with the main body broke off in small
parties and found their way back to the Orange Free State.
"By the 19th we had pushed on as far as Brak River, about twelve
miles from Prieska. Here we met with another disappointment, which
almost proved fatal to our whole commando. The river was in flood
and no transit possible. In what a dreadful plight we were! Hardly
eight miles behind us the British columns were stationed in
crescent shape; in front was the swollen Brak River, and nine miles
to our right was the Orange River, and that in flood. Here at least
it seemed as if De Wet would be caught, and though he escaped, this
certainly was one of the tightest corners in which he ever found
himself.
"About two hours before sunset we heard that the enemy was rapidly
approaching us. Anxiously we asked ourselves, Whither now? We could
not return, we could not ford the river; to proceed up-stream would
expose us to the risk of being quartered against the river. There
was but one course to follow, and that an extremely hazardous one.
We could march down the Brak River as far as the Orange River, and
then proceed along the latter. Between us and the enemy there was
then a ridge, extending parallel with the Orange River. Behind this
ridge we would be out of the enemy's view. Should they reach this
elevation before it was dark, we would be pressed, with fatal
consequences to ourselves, against a swollen river. But here
darkness proved our salvation once more. We proceeded down the Brak
River and up the Orange River. When the enemy came to the ridge
mentioned it was so dark that they could see no traces of us.
"De Wet had now decided to fall back on the Orange Free State. To
many of us this was a bitter disappointment; but we saw that
nothing else could be done under the circumstances. With tired
horses and many burghers on foot we could not hope to circumvent
the enemy. Others, especially those who had suffered most in
walking, were enraptured at the idea of going back to the Free
State. Their drooping spirits revived, and with renewed courage
they started on the homeward march.
"The whole of that night we trekked along the banks of the Orange
River, parallel to the British columns. We tried one ford after the
other, but to our dismay the stream was impassable. The following
day we were not only behind the enemy, but had outstripped them by
nine miles. To gain more on them we kept up the march almost
unbroken the whole day. And what a day it was! We had to walk from
twelve to fifteen miles without a drop of water. Once we came to a
forsaken well. The water was of a greenish hue, bitter and
stagnant--a real Marah--but we drank to quench our thirst and
moisten our parched lips.
"On the 22nd we had proceeded to a point six miles beyond the
confluence of the Vaal and Orange Rivers. Here we found a small
boat, and began at once to transport the dismounts. We knew that
these, once across the river, would be in a safer position. Day and
night we were engaged in taking these over; but the work progressed
very slowly, for the boat could only take ten or twelve men at a
time, and, besides, was so leaky that two had constantly to throw
out the water. After 250 men had been ferried across the stream the
approach of the enemy was announced, and so near were they that
some of us had to depart in an almost half-naked state. About 80
burghers had to hide in the river until the storm was over. Almost
all the vehicles were left behind while the main force retreated up
the river.
"Fortune favoured me; I was among the lucky ones who found a seat
in the boat as she was returning for the last time. Willie Louw and
myself were appointed to supervise the boat, less the transport of
the men be retarded in some way or other. For some time we worked
together, and then Willie left me to manage alone. Though I was
anxious to cross myself, I could not then leave the boat. When the
report of the enemy reached us the burghers, eager to get through,
stormed the boat from all directions. They forgot that if all want
to get into the boat nobody will get across the river. What must be
done? As there was no time for much deliberation I jumped in and
expostulated with an excited crowd. None heeded, each pressed
forward to get a place in the boat. I was finally compelled to
threaten them with my revolver, but all in vain. No one was afraid.
I believe they knew too well that I would not pull the trigger. One
looked me straight in the face as I pointed the instrument to him
and said, 'My dear fellow, you may shoot if you wish--I am not
afraid; but I want to get through.' He completely disarmed me. I
had no more threats.
"With an overcrowded boat we were at last on the stream, and
finally reached the opposite bank, just as the enemy was beginning
to shell De Wet's forces on the other side. It was indeed a relief
to me, but we had to march another fifteen miles without water,
exposed to scorching heat. At length we found some muddy water.
Lying next to our horses we sipped up water so thick and muddy that
we could hardly swallow it.
"As to De Wet's further movements I can hardly give you full
particulars. He was followed up by the enemy, and had to abandon
his guns the following day. Trying one drift after the other he
succeeded at last in fording the river between Norval's Pont and
Zanddrift; and so after seventeen days he was back in the Free
State.
"Here you have a sketch of our attempt to invade British dominions.
I have omitted many things of less interest. I wonder what you will
think of all this. Looking back upon our adventures, it is, of
course, easy to point out all the errors and blunders we have
committed. We should, for instance, never have encumbered ourselves
with a convoy and guns, which hampered our movements and were of
very little service to us. Then again, we should not have crossed
the river in one commando, but should have divided the force into
at least twelve or fifteen commandoes, and these should have
entered the Colony at different points, all moving in different
directions, then the enemy could not have concentrated their hosts
on us as they did. Besides, our discipline and organisation was
poor, and it is a well-known fact that a thousand in disorder can
accomplish less than two hundred well-organised men. But it is
useless to dwell on these points. 'Tis easier to criticize the past
than to forecast the future. Experience costs a great deal.
"Has our attempt been a complete failure? In many respects I should
say it has. We have succeeded, however, in drawing the enemy out of
the Free State, which was our chief object. And, though it did not
cost them many lives, yet their following us in such desolate
regions must have proved very expensive, and must have been a
source of great hardship to themselves. If that be a consolation to
know that we have not suffered alone, we have, then, at least one
comfort.
"Brak River was the last nail in our coffin. If we only could have
forded that, we would not have been ousted. On the other side of
the river we would have found not only grass for our tired horses,
but would also have been able to find remounts. Hertzog's commando
was not far off, and they were strongly mounted, and could have
rendered us great assistance.
"The president, who accompanied us, remained cheerful to the last,
and, just as a common burgher, partook in all our troubles. Such a
man we may well be proud of, and, I need hardly say, that we love
and honour him all the more.
"As to the conduct of the burghers we need only remark that it was
beyond praise. One never heard them grumble or murmur either
against De Wet or any other officer. No rebellious complaints or
threats were flung at the heads of those in authority. This,
indeed, is typical of the Boer. He endures suffering and hardship
with a submissive spirit and with a dignity which is remarkable. We
do not marvel at this, for are they not formed of that stuff of
which martyrs have been made in bygone years? And does not the
blood of the French Huguenot course through the veins of many a
one, while others are animated by the dauntless spirit of that
little nation that combated the once mighty Spain for eighty years,
and so achieved that honour and distinction which has secured for
them an abiding place in the history of nations? Such men, who are
willing to suffer and sacrifice all for freedom's sake, surely
deserve to succeed at last.--Yours fondly,
"R.D. MCDONALD."
CHAPTER VI.
WOUNDED.
During the first days of August, 1901, the enemy seemed more determined
than ever to effect my capture, or sweep me out of the Cape Colony, Very
large forces concentrated on my commando, and pressed us so hard that
our only safety lay in retreating to the Orange Free State. So hot was
the pursuit that for forty-eight hours our horses were not once
off-saddled.
On the 14th we arrived on the banks of the Orange River, near to
Venterstad. We found the drift guarded by a small garrison of Hottentots
that offered slight resistance. After a short skirmish they surrendered,
and we waded safely through the stream. We were again on Free State
soil, in our native land, where we knew almost every inch of the
country.
Fording the river brought us no immediate relief; it rather increased
our dangers. For we were now between two railway lines, each strongly
guarded by blockhouses, while the space between the two lines was so
confined and limited, that (with columns at our rear) we could not
venture to delay there a day or two. So we had to cross one of these
lines the same night. We decided upon the Springfontein-Bethulie line
and thither directed our steps.
At about 8 A.M. we came in sight of the line, at a point six miles from
Springfontein Junction. The sun had already risen. It was a bright
morning, but our prospects were dark and ominous. We were confronted by
a line studded with blockhouses and fenced in on both sides, while two
armoured trains were belching forth clouds of steam and smoke in the
distance. Behind us, and not far to our rear, the British columns were
drawing nearer. We could but choose between two alternatives--surrender,
or cut the wire at any cost. The former we could hardly give a thought;
the latter must be done, and was successfully executed.
Our first attempt failed. The burghers, who had no cover, retreated when
fire was opened upon them from the blockhouses. We fell back to a small
hill not far from the line, and there we made up our minds that we
_shall_ cross. Commandant Louis Wessels--certainly one of the most
intrepid and fearless officers of the whole Boer Army--made direct for
the two railway gates, near which a blockhouse had been erected. These
gates he opened, so that the burghers could proceed without any
obstruction. Then in the face of blockhouses on every side, guards and
armoured trains, we passed over the line. We were exposed to a shower of
bullets, and to a terrific pom-pom fire, from the armoured train, but,
to our amazement, without any effect. But for a few horses shot down, we
would have achieved our object without any losses. The men marvelled and
said Providence had protected them; the enemy probably attributed it to
ill-luck and bad shooting. Both may be correct.
While passing over the line one of the men, accidentally or out of
fright, had dropped and left his gun behind. He was ordered back, and
had to pick it up under a storm of bullets. We could not afford to leave
rifles behind. This was my first experience in crossing the British
lines in daytime. Some time later I was to have a similar experience,
which, as far as my person was concerned, proved less successful,
indeed, almost fatal.
In regard to the blockhouse system, we need only make these general
remarks. The blockhouses along the railway and fighting lines of the
British, as well as in and round garrisoned places, played a most
prominent part in bringing the war to an end. It was at all times
difficult and dangerous to attack them; and to force their occupants to
surrender involved greater loss of life on our part than we could
prudently face. The only way we could destroy them was to approach them
as near as possible during the night, and locate a dynamite bomb on or
near them. In this way some of them have been blown up. It seems a
barbarous process, but is not war, at its very best, barbarous, brutal,
and unbefitting civilized nations?
As a means of capturing the burghers, they were a failure. Our
commandoes, when driven against them, always had sufficient pluck and
courage to cut the wires between them, and so they crossed the lines at
almost any point they pleased. That we _have_ crossed and recrossed them
frequently is proof enough that they were, in this respect, not a
success. The barbed wire fences, however complicated, were easily cut.
As a means of capturing the women and children, and especially the
cattle, sheep and horses, they served the purpose well. It was almost
impossible to drive a flock of sheep or a herd of cattle, not to mention
horses, over these lines during the day. The women with the old and aged
would retreat with the cattle and sheep until they came in touch with
the blockhouses, and were then often captured, one and all.
If it had not been for these little shanties all over the two republics,
it would have taken the British forces double if not treble the time to
have so thoroughly exhausted the late republics of food supplies. When
the republics were cut up into so many small sections it became
impossible to protect our foodstuffs.
From the railway line we went to Rouxville district, where we enjoyed a
rest of ten days. But on the 1st of September the enemy came in large
numbers and till the 22nd of October harassed us almost daily.
As I was anxious to return to the commandoes I left behind in the Cape
Colony, I thought it feasible to cross the fighting line, and take my
commando to Ladybrand district, where the enemy would probably leave us
unmolested for a while, and where the veldt provided ample food for our
horses. Thither we directed our steps, and for a month we saw no signs
of the British.
On the 23rd of November we were again south of the
Bloemfontein-Ladybrand fighting line, and on our way to the Cape
Colony. My first intention was to ford the Orange River near Aliwal
North, but I soon realised that we would be incurring too great a risk
in trying to cross the river there, for about twenty or twenty-five
columns were then sweeping the southern districts of the Orange Free
State. Now if the river was in flood these columns could press us
against it, and we would then be in an awful predicament. So I resolved
to cut the wire of the main line near Springfontein Junction, and from
there march in the direction of Zanddrift, west of Philippolis.
Before that could be accomplished we had to beat our track through the
columns already mentioned. And what a hearty reception they gave us! In
one day we had to pass no fewer than eleven of these. And they _did_
lift us up--so much so that we scarcely lighted on the ground. Even now
I wonder how we contrived to escape these columns. We were fortunately
provided with a number of picked horses, to which we must largely
ascribe our salvation.
In what a dreadful state we found the country east of the lines! It
resembled more a howling wilderness, a haunt of wild beasts, than an
habitation of human beings. It was cleared of all stock; no living
thing, and not a single burgher of other commandoes came in view. So
thoroughly was the country cleared of all necessaries of life, that for
six days we had to subsist on corn, coffee, and honey found in the
mountains, for the bee-hives at the farms were all destroyed. On the 7th
day, having cut the wire near Springfontein, we found large numbers of
springbucks in Fauresmith district, and though our supply of ammunition
was very limited, we could still afford to spare as many cartridges as
would provide sufficient food for men reduced to starvation's point.
On the 15th of December we arrived at the river, and were ready to
intrude once more upon British territory. During the day the river was
carefully reconnoitred, so as to ascertain the best place to ford it. At
nightfall we headed for it, and at 9 P.M. the commando was on its banks.
In deep silence lest the guards woke up on the other side, and shielded
by the wings of darkness, we began to ford the stream. Heavy rains had
fallen higher up the river, in consequence of which the stream was so
swollen that our horses had to swim about 150 yards. The men who could
not swim had to rely exclusively on their horses, and clung to these for
all life was worth. It was a very dark night, and as we only spoke in
whispers, we succeeded in crossing the river, unobserved by the
sentinels or guards, purposely stationed there to prevent our entering
the Cape Colony. We were wet to the skin, six of the men were without
clothes, some lost their horses, and others their rifles and bandoliers,
but none their lives. We were indeed glad that we had attained our
object. But we did not know what was in store for us.
At dawn we left the river, and moving southwards we soon encountered the
enemy not far from the river. From early in the morning till late in the
afternoon we were engaged by the enemy. At sunset we could off-saddle
and rest our tired horses for a short while, and a hasty meal was
prepared.
At dusk we mounted again, and rode till 11.30 that evening, to get some
fodder. We arrived at a farm at midnight, but unfortunately it was
already occupied by the enemy. We had no sooner fastened our horses and
were lying down to rest, when the enemy began firing at us. We resaddled
at once, and left the farm as quickly and quietly as possible. One of
the burghers was wounded in the arm, the rest came out unhurt.
We now went in search of another farm, for it was a necessity that our
horses should get some fodder. The night was very dark, and, being
unacquainted with that part of the country, we began wandering, and we
_did_ wander until the guide and most of the men were asleep on their
horses--wandered till we had described a circle and found ourselves,
after a three hours' ride, almost at the very farm we had left that
night. If it had not been for the flickering lights of the enemy's
camp-fires, we should not have known where we were, and certainly would
have been quite close to them the next morning. When we saw these
lights, hardly three miles away, _then_ we woke up.
I then took the lead, and brought the commando to the farm we were in
search of.
At sunrise we arrived there, off-saddled, and gave our horses fodder.
The pickets were put out, and breakfast was prepared. But, alas! before
we could eat, the enemy was upon us, and our intended feast was
converted into a prolonged fast. So near was the foe, and so rapidly did
they advance, that we had scarcely time to saddle and seize the nearest
ridges. If it had not been for the marvellous celerity of the Boer, many
of the men would have been captured at that farm.
This was the 16th of December, 1901. The day I never shall forget in my
life's history, and in the history of the Anglo-Boer War. The sun rose
in splendour that morning, casting his rays upon me--a man in the prime
of life, full of energy and martial ambition. At eventide the scene was
changed! Weary, wounded and bleeding on a lonely plain, shrouded in
darkness, I lay, no more the man of the day, or of bygone days, but weak
and helpless as a babe.
Though I had taken part in many hot engagements, both as burgher and
commander, and had been in many tight corners, yet I do not recollect a
day in which we were so brought to bay, when we were so hard pressed as
that day. Early in the morning it was evident that the enemy had but one
design that day, and that was to force me to surrender. My commando was
about eighty strong. On my flanks were continually two British columns,
whilst a third one was following up at my rear. With such a small number
of men at my disposal, and three columns to oppose, it was next to
impossible to offer successful resistance. We had hardly taken up a
position when the flanking columns would come round, and we had either
to abandon the position or allow ourselves to be shut in. Thus we were
compelled to retreat from one to another position, under the rays of a
December sun, which seemed to set everything on fire, through a country
so parched and dry that one hardly found a drop of water to quench one's
thirst, and that from early morn till sunset without a morsel of food!
That was enough to break down the strongest man.
A little before sunset the ominous Cape Railway line stared us in the
face. We were again precisely in the same plight as on the 15th of
August, when we had to cut the wire near Springfontein Junction, only
with this difference--that the danger was much more imminent, the enemy
forming a semi-circle at my back, and before me was a line more strongly
fenced and better guarded than the first. But happily the armoured train
was not on the scene. As we were so successful in our first undertaking,
we determined to pass the enemy's line again in daylight. In fine, we
had to cut the wire or surrender. The latter was more repulsive than the
former.
As my commando was now very near the line, there was not a moment to
lose. The enemy was advancing swiftly, and the armoured train might
appear at any time. Commandant Louis Wessels, Veldt Cornet Fraser,
Landman and myself proceeded with the utmost speed ahead of the commando
to cut the wire, in order that the progress of the commando should not
be impeded in the least.
As we approached the line a sharp cross-fire from the blockhouses was
directed against us; but we all reached the fence safely and began
cutting the wire as quickly as possible.
The enemy, knowing only too well who were trying to cut the wire, poured
volley after volley upon us. The bullets seemed to strike everywhere and
everything but ourselves. Let the reader imagine himself exposed to such
a fire, between two forts about 800 yards apart on a level track of
ground, and forming there in the centre a target for rifles, and he will
realise, to some extent, our situation at that moment. But this was not
all. To intensify our peril we met with thick steel wire which the
scissors refused to cut. We were delayed; the whole commando arrived,
and was checked by this wire.
What an embarrassment! I ordered the men to spread, dismount, and fire
at the blockhouses until we had done the cutting. This was promptly
done. Having, been exposed to the enemy's fire for some minutes, we
succeeded at last in cutting that wire also. I then signalled the men
to pass. And once more the incredible occurred. On a plain between
blockhouses 800 yards apart, exposed to an incessant cross-fire, all the
burghers passed the line, in broad daylight, without receiving so much
as a scratch. Some horses were shot down, others were wounded, but the
men crossed safely. Some distance from the line Lieutenant Bolding was
wounded mortally.
I waited at the line till all, with the exception of eight or ten whose
horses had given in, were over and then followed the commando. But
looking back once more, I beheld one of my men trudging on foot across
the line. At once I decided to go back and lend him a helping hand. I
rode back, and was again exposed to the same fire from which we had just
escaped. This time there was to be no escape. While returning, one of my
officers--Fraser--who saw me going back, came to volunteer his services.
He would not have me exposed to the enemy's fire, and urged me to go
back immediately--he would see to the burgher.
Accepting his generous offer, I rode back. But no sooner had I turned my
horse, than I felt a shock. In the twinkling of an eye a bullet had
passed through the muscles of my left arm and through my lungs, missing
the heart by a mere hair-breadth. It happened all so suddenly that for
the first few seconds I hardly knew that I was wounded. I remained in
the saddle for a time, until some of the men could attend to me. Gently
they took me from my horse, placed me in a blanket, and carried me along
to a safe spot.
It was now eventide, the shadows were deepening, and darkness was hiding
us from the vision of the foe. At first I was determined to accompany
the commando some distance from the line to a place where I could safely
remain till recovered. I, however, soon realised the serious nature of
the wound, and that if it were not well attended to, mortification was
sure to set in, and that would cost me my life. The men too considered
it absolutely impossible for me to accompany them any longer, and deemed
it advisable that I should be sent into the British hospital for medical
treatment.
And then came the _parting_ moment, the moment when I had to bid adieu
to the men whom I had led, and with whom I had fought against our common
foe for so long a time. In the life of every man there comes a day, an
hour, or even a moment, which he never can forget. That parting moment,
reader, was one in my life I never shall forget. My officers, adjutants,
secretary, and some other burghers gathered round me for the last time
as I sat on the ground supported by one of them. As they bade me
farewell--yea, perhaps for ever--the tear-drops sparkled in their eyes,
and gushed down their cheeks. Yes, we all did weep and shed tears of
deep sorrow--tears not such as "angels weep," but such as men can weep
who love one another, and had fought in one common cause.
I could not speak to the men as I would, for I was too weak. Still I
wished them God-speed for the future, and exhorted them to be very
courageous and to do their duty faithfully, as befits men, to the last.
I told them my work was done. I had given my blood, and might be called
upon to give my life for my country. If so, I hope to be prepared to
bring that offering too. More I could not do. My secretary then knelt
and commended me in prayer to the care and protection of our gracious
God and Father.... Then we parted.
My war career had ended. No more fighting, no more retreating, no more
roaming over the veldt, by day and night, exposed to blasting summer
winds or chilling winter frosts. For two years and two months I had seen
active service. During that time I had tried to acquit myself
conscientiously of my duties as a man. No sacrifice was too great, and
no obstacle appeared insuperable for the cause in which I was engaged.
Looking back upon the past I observe how often I have fallen short and
failed--failed as a burgher and as a leader. And though I do not wish
for another war, I believe I should try to do better were I to live
through it again.
Two of my adjutants--Pieter Hugo and Landman--had remained with me. One
of them instantly went to the nearest railway station, about three miles
off, to call for an ambulance. Till 1 A.M. I lay bleeding in the veldt.
Then the British ambulance arrived. When the doctor saw me he had very
little hope that I would recover. As I was too weak to be removed by
waggon, I was put on a stretcher and carried to a small field hospital,
not far from the spot where I was wounded.
How soon I knew that I was no more a free man! First of all I was
stripped of all my belongings, including watch, chain, and money, etc.
At my urgent request the watch and chain and also a certain amount of my
money were restored to me.
The following morning an ambulance train took me to Naauwpoort Junction.
On the way I had to part with my blanket. And one of the nurses actually
wanted my ring, saying that I might as well give it to her, as it would
be taken from me. This I refused to part with, remarking that I didn't
believe any one would act so shamefully as to rob me of my ring. In this
I was correct.
Arrived at Naauwpoort, I was carried to the hospital, where I was laid
up for three weeks. A screen was posted before my bed, and at my feet
stood a sentinel with fixed bayonet. I was to be completely isolated
from the rest of mankind. Imagine my feelings at having this functionary
at my feet, watching over me and staring in my face day and night. It
was enough to drive me mad. When I could endure it no longer I entreated
one of the sisters to offer my guard a seat, somewhere out of my view,
for his penetrating and unbroken gaze was putting too great a strain on
my already shattered nerves. Surely there was no chance whatsoever for
me to escape, for I could hardly move myself. Besides, the hospital was
so well fenced in and strongly guarded, that all escape was impossible.
My request was partly granted; but I was forbidden to speak to any one,
except to the nurses and the doctor. Neither was any one allowed to
address me. And so the time dragged on heavily and wearily. The first
few days I suffered intensely, gradually the pain decreased, and I
became stronger.
After I had spent three weeks in the hospital I was ordered to Graaff
Reinet. I rose, and dressed with the assistance of the nurses. To my
astonishment six khakis entered my room. One of these had a pair of
handcuffs. To my query as to what his intentions were he replied: "You
must be handcuffed." "Well, and where do you want to put them on?" I
asked him, for my wounded arm was still supported by a sling. "I must
put them on somewhere," he replied bluntly. So I suggested that I would
lie down on the stretcher and have them fastened to my feet. I was
beginning to lose my temper, and expressed myself in somewhat forcible
language. Fortunately an officer then appeared on the scene with whom I
remonstrated about the treatment I was being subjected to. The officer,
shrugging his shoulders, said: "'Tis orders, and they must be executed."
It seemed such a disgraceful action that I could not help remarking:
"That is why the Boers will not surrender. If wounded officers,
entrusted to your care, are treated thus, what must the private expect?"
At last I was allowed to go--unhandcuffed.
Placed in an armoured truck, I was taken to Graaff Reinet Gaol. My
experiences there shall be related in the next chapter. Had I suffered
much up to this time, greater suffering and more anxious moments were
awaiting me.
Before leaving this subject I would sincerely thank the doctors and
sisters, who evinced such great interest and attended so well to my case
while laid up in the Naauwpoort Hospital.
CHAPTER VII.
COURT-MARTIALLED.
O, if to fight for ... commonweal
Were piety in thine, it is in these....
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the Gods?
Draw near them then in being merciful.
_Shakespeare._
Arrived at Graaff Reinet, I was instantly removed to gaol, where I was
confined in a small room. Here, isolated from the rest of the world, I
was to spend many anxious days and sleepless nights. During the day I
was allowed to stay a few hours in an inner yard or enclosure of the
prison. The rest of the time I was locked up, and no bright sun-rays
could revive my drooping spirits. I begged permission to go as far as
the prisoner's yard, and promised not to speak to the other
prisoners--no, not even wink an eye, and should I transgress in any
respect the guard could shoot me down. I desired intensely to move and
breathe in the open and pure air--Nature's gift to all. But this favour
was too great. On the contrary, I was forbidden, on penalty of death, to
address any one. To add to my misery other forces seemed to co-operate.
For the very evening after my arrival an unknown gentleman entered my
room. He carried some documents, and politely informed me that I must
get ready for my trial. He hinted, moreover, that I should expect the
worst. If I had not a will, and wanted one, it should be drawn up
without further delay. If I had any documents to be disposed of, I
should arrange about these as well. In short, this kind (?) fellow gave
me to understand that my career was soon to terminate. How? That was the
question.
The next morning the local magistrate came to pay me his respects. The
unpleasant remarks of the previous evening were cruelly reiterated,
enlarged upon, and emphasized. The magistrate volunteered very kindly to
submit, if necessary, all my papers to some one I may please to appoint.
He would also deliver messages to my sorrowing friends and relatives. As
my trial was pending, I asked him what he meant by talking such
nonsense. Surely the British were not going to shoot each and every Boer
officer whom they captured, and that without fair trial!
Though no coward, I must admit that such conversations were not
calculated to produce a favourable impression on my mind. They might
have been well meant, but did more harm than good. It is one thing to
face the enemy on the battlefield, where one may defend himself; 'tis
something else to be dangerously, almost mortally, wounded, and then to
be at the mercy of the foe. For three consecutive nights Nature's
greatest gift--sleep--to suffering humanity had departed from me. Why
could I not sleep? Was it fear that kept me awake? No, not that. My
conscience was clear, my hands unstained. But locked up in that small
room, with no one to speak to, my thoughts began to multiply, and I lay
meditating night after night. That was enough to make a young man old
and grey. Yet there was one friend who helped me to beguile the dreary
hours of confinement. That friend was my beloved pipe.
One evening, towards the end of February, I was told to appear before a
military court the following morning. This announcement seemed strange
to me, for I was not prepared for a trial. I was resolved what to do.
At 8 o'clock the next morning I was taken by an escort of six soldiers
to the court-house. Having taken my place in the prisoner's box, I
listened to my charges, which were recited as follows: Fourteen cases of
murder; wreckage of trains; and ill-treatment of prisoners-of-war. To
the question, "Guilty or not?" I pleaded "Not guilty," whereupon I was
requested to make my defence, which I declined to do; for the public
prosecutor had promised me, and rightly so, that, if I could produce
any witnesses to disprove the [alleged] charges brought against me, I
could summon them. As none of my witnesses were present, nor an
opportunity of enlisting the services of an advocate and solicitor given
me, I refused to take upon me the burden of pleading in self-defence. I
knew that if I did acquiesce in such a trial, it might prove fatal to my
best interests. It would then be urged, too, that Kritzinger had a fair
trial, when condemned to death, something which would be altogether
untrue.
After I had thrice declined to be tried without witnesses and legal
advice, I was sent to gaol, and told to be ready for trial on the 7th of
March. I now addressed a letter to General French, in which I brought to
his notice how I was being treated. French wrote back that he had
corresponded with Lord Kitchener concerning my case, and that Lord
Kitchener's orders were that I should have a fair trial, _i.e._, legal
defence and witnesses for my case.
On the 1st of March, seven days before the appointed trial, I was again
summoned to appear in court. My charges were read out, and the same
questions were submitted to me. Again I declined to make a defence, and
remarked: "I am in your power, gentlemen--you may do as you please,
pronounce any sentence; but _I_ shall _not_ defend myself." I then
referred the court to French's letter, whereupon I was again removed to
my lodgings.
Meanwhile, I succeeded in enlisting the services of Advocate Gardiner
and Attorney Auret, Graaff Reinet, and made such arrangements that my
witnesses could be present at the trial.
Advocate Gardiner arrived on the evening of the 6th of March. The
following day the court-martial commenced. As my witnesses had not yet
arrived, it was decided that the evidence for the prosecution should
first be taken.
The counsel for the defence took exception to the charges of
train-wreckage, ill-treatment of troops, and some instances of murder;
charges which, _prima facie_, would not stand the test of examination.
These were then withdrawn by the prosecution. After this subtraction
there still remained four charges of murder, which we shall enumerate
in succession.
1st Charge:--
_Murder_.
On or about the 15th of February, 1901, it was alleged that I had killed
and murdered Jafta and Solomon, natives, British subjects, at
Grootplaats, Murraysburg, Cape Colony.
Mr. Boltman, the owner of the farm Grootplaats, was the principal
witness for the prosecution. He deposed that he saw one of my officers,
_i.e._, Antonie Wessels, riding up to me, and after Wessels had spoken
to me he rode back and shot the two natives. Hence I must have given him
orders to shoot them! Besides, Mr. Boltman also declared that he had
heard me say to two men, whom I had arrested along with the two natives
in question, "Do you see these natives? Well, I am going to have them
shot, and in future I shall treat all armed natives in the same way."
All these statements were refuted by one of the men to whom I was
supposed to have made the remark of having the natives shot. The man
denied that he ever heard such a statement from my lips.
2nd Charge:--
_Murder_.
In that I have killed and murdered John Vondeling, a native and British
subject, at Tweefontein, Graaff Reinet.
In this case it was proved by the witnesses for the defence that the
native had been shot three days before my arrival at the farm where the
murder was committed.
3rd Charge:--
_Murder_.
About the 18th of March, 1901, I had killed and brutally murdered a
native at Prinsfontein, Tarkastad.
Mr. Mantel, the farmer, deposed:--
One of Kritzinger's men was with me as his commando passed some
distance from my house. Van der Walt said to me, "Do you see that
man in front, riding on the large blue horse? That man is
Kritzinger." I then saw a few burghers riding up to Kritzinger, and
after they had halted for a short while they went back and shot the
natives.
My witnesses proved that at that particular time I had no blue horse in
my possession. Neither was there such a man as Van der Walt in my
commando; and the natives in question had been shot by another
commandant without my instructions.
4th Charge:--
_Murder_.
At Biscuitfontein, Bethulie, I had killed and murdered two natives on
the 14th of August, 1901.
This was the last and principal charge brought against me. Four blacks
were the chief witnesses in this case, by which, if possible, I was to
be convicted and silenced for ever.
Let us see how they fared. The first one succeeded in identifying me.
The next one was less successful. He pointed to an English officer,
saying, "That is the man." He was to have another chance. I looked at
him and smiled; this puzzled him even more. Greatly perplexed, he
pressed his finger against a man with a long bushy beard, and said, "You
are Kritzinger." What a blunder! The prosecutor seemed slightly put out;
the court indulged in lusty laughter.
The other witnesses were then brought forward. Surely these will not
make a mistake, they know the murderer only too well. Had the prosecutor
not sounded them beforehand by asking them to point out the prisoner's
photo among a number of other photos? Did they not hit upon the right
photo? Is this not conclusive evidence that they must have seen and
known the prisoner? In spite of all this precaution, the first witness
in this case declared, on being cross-questioned _re_ the photo in
question, that a certain officer had shown him the photo at Norval's
Pont, and asked him to note it carefully, so that, if called upon, he
would be able to identify the person concerned!
I watched the prosecutor, who exhibited signs of uneasiness or disgust.
This stupid native was spoiling his good case; the other witness was
going to commit as great a blunder. He declared that on the 10th of
January he saw the corpses of two natives, and, on seeing them,
immediately recognized the one as being the body of his brother-in-law.
Questioned as to how he could still recognize his brother-in-law in a
decomposed body, he promptly replied, "Oh! my brother had still a smile
on his face!" Although the native in question was shot on the 14th of
August, 1901, on the 10th of January he still had a smile on his face!
Death must have conferred a great boon upon him. And if he could have
appeared in court, he certainly would have objected to my being tried.
Have not sentences of death, confiscation of property, and imprisonment
been passed on the evidences of such witnesses?
When all the evidences had been taken the prosecutor delivered his
address. After him the counsel for the defence addressed the court. In a
very able speech Advocate Gardiner pointed out the shallowness of the
accusations against me. He urged that the court should not be long in
coming to a decision, as a prolonged trial meant increased expenses for
the accused.
After his address I was removed for half an hour. Summoned back, a
verdict of "not guilty" was brought in. I was at last acquitted, and
could return to my lonely chamber not as a criminal, but as a
prisoner-of-war!
Leaving the court-room I was called back to shake hands with the judges,
who congratulated me with the acquittal. Thus the trial, which lasted
five days, came to an end. The clouds cleared up. The sun rose. It was
all brightness. I had passed unscathed through the ordeal, to indulge
that night in slumbers calm and sweet.
Just a few days before the trial commenced I was somewhat reassured and
encouraged to hope for the best. An unknown friend kindly dropped a
newspaper cutting, tied to a piece of stone, over the prison yard. This
press-cutting fell into my hands, and in it I saw that a large section
of the British public strongly disapproved of the action of the
Military Government _re_ late Commandant Scheepers, and that section and
people all over the continent and in the United States of America were
asking, "What about Kritzinger--will he too be shot?" I noticed also
that petitions on my behalf were being drawn up in England and
elsewhere, and signed extensively.
All the men and women who so petitioned His Majesty the King to spare my
life I thank most sincerely, for the interest shown in my case, and for
the efforts put forth to save my life. How much I owe such I do not
fully know; but I do appreciate the deed of kindness shown to me in the
darkest moments of my life. Such deeds are never forgotten. They
illuminate life's way with such splendour as fills the soul with
inexpressible gratitude.
I have related the story of my trial briefly and as accurately as I
could. I do not wish to comment on the justice or injustice of the
proceedings. It is for others to judge whether an officer, who was a
burgher of the Orange Free State, and _not_ a rebel, should have been
court-martialled, and while the war was still in progress, on such
unfounded charges. I shall not say whether I consider it just and fair
that, tried as a prisoner-of-war and acquitted as such, I should have
had to pay a bill of £226 for my defence. What if a prisoner does not
possess the means to secure legal defence? Must he then be condemned
without it? Has this not been done in certain cases? I shall ask no more
questions. I did not mind the money, but was only too glad to inhale
once more air not pregnant with death and destruction.
Our object in mentioning these details is to illustrate the nature of
some of the charges brought against Boer officers and burghers when
court-martialled by the British. These charges of murder were, as a
rule, associated with Kaffirs who had been shot, either in fair fight or
as spies. Our officers were held responsible for the acts of their men.
Moreover, by proclamation, any officer or burgher convicted of shooting
a Kaffir or Hottentot, after having surrendered, could be charged with
murder and condemned to death. The principle laid down in this
proclamation, that the life of a surrendered foe should not be taken,
must be endorsed by every right-minded man. The burghers, however,
argued that, since the war had not been declared against the coloured
races, they had the right to deal with armed natives in the most
effectual manner possible, especially if these natives were not British
subjects, but belonged to the Republics. Besides, some of these natives
gave no quarter to our men. We could cite several instances where
burghers had been murdered and mutilated in a ghastly manner. To mention
one instance, while peace negotiations were going on, 56 men were
savagely cut up and mutilated by the Kaffirs in the district of Vryheid,
Transvaal.
Eventually we were placed in such a position that we hardly knew what to
do with armed natives. What if they refuse to surrender? Shoot them ...
and then you are a murderer. Let them go ... and then you will pay the
penalty. It was perplexing to know how the British wished us to act. The
Boers, regardless of consequences, did what they thought right.
For the sake of such as were interested in my trial, I submit in full
the charges, my evidence, and the addresses of the prosecutor and
counsel for the defence:--
_Charge Sheet_.
The prisoner, Pieter Hendrik Kritzinger, a burgher of the late
Orange Free State, and ex-Assistant Chief Commandant of the
(so-called) Federal forces, is charged with:--
1st Charge:--
_Murder_.
In that he, at Grootplaats, Murraysburg, on or about the 15th of
February, 1901, killed and murdered Jafta and Solomon, natives,
British subjects.
2nd Charge:--
_Murder_.
In that he, at Tweefontein, Graaff Reinet, on or about the 15th of
February, 1901, killed and murdered John Thomas, a native, a
British subject.
3rd Charge:--
_Murder_.
In that he, at Prinsfontein, Tarkastad, on or about the 18th of
March, 1901, killed and murdered a native, a British subject.
4th Charge:--
_Murder_.
In that he, at Biscuitfontein, Bethulie, Orange River Colony, on or
about the 15th of August, 1901, killed and murdered Koos and
Willem, natives, British subjects.
5th Charge:--
_Destroying Railways_.
In that he, near Knutsford, Cradock, on or about the 27th of July,
1901, cut the railway line, thereby causing a portion of a
passenger train to be derailed.
To be tried by Military Court by order of General French.
The prisoner takes his stand at the place from which other
witnesses give their evidence:--
The prisoner, Pieter Hendrik Kritzinger, being duly sworn,
states:--
"My name is Pieter Hendrik Kritzinger. In the commencement of
September, 1900, I became a commandant of the Free State Forces. I
became Chief Commandant of the forces in the Cape Colony on the
11th of June, 1901. This would not give me a higher position in the
event of my returning to the Free State. Once over the border I
would hold the same position as any other commandant. I surrendered
on the 16th of December last. I attempted to cross the line at
Hanover Road and was wounded.
I know absolutely nothing of the death of Jafta and Solomon, I gave
no orders that they should be shot, nor any other natives. I
arrived at Voetpad on a Thursday, the 14th of February, 1901. I
camped there until the following day. Shortly before I left Voetpad
Captain Smit with his men came there from a farm in the vicinity.
The name of the farm is unknown to me. Captain Smit was not under
my command. He was acting independently. An advance guard is
generally sent out. On this occasion I sent Wessels and some men. I
do not know when Wessels left, I cannot remember. I went from
Voetpad to Poortje, the farm of Van der Merwe. I arrived there
about sundown on Friday the 15th. On my way from Voetpad I passed
over Boltman's place. I did not hear of any natives being shot
there. While on Voetpad I had no message from Wessels. I cannot
remember having spoken to any one in that strain regarding
Boltman's statements _re_ shooting natives. There was one Mijnhardt
in my commando, there were others amongst Smit's men, but I can't
call to mind of a Corporal Mijnhardt in my commando. No report was
ever made to me of natives being shot at Grootplaats.
2nd Charge:--
On the 15th of February, 1901, I went to Poortje. I camped there
for the night. On the 16th I went to Driefontein, the farm of du
Toit. That was Saturday. From there I went on Sunday to the farm
Tweefontein, Minnaar's. I have not had a man named Van Aswegen with
me at Minnaar's. I know a Van Aswegen; he is a sergeant in Smit's
commando. He was not at Minnaar's when I got there. I do not know
where he was. On the 12th of February, 1901, I saw Van Aswegen on a
farm, the name of which is unknown to me. The owner's name is
Burger. There Smit and his men left me. I next saw Van Aswegen on a
farm in the Richmond district, the owner of which is Meiring. I
stopped at Minnaar's for the day, held service, and left there in
the afternoon. I know nothing of the shooting of a native there. No
shooting of a native was reported to me. Van Aswegen certainly had
no orders from me. He was not under my control, he was under the
control of Smit. Nobody belonging to my commando had any orders
from me with reference to shooting natives.
3rd Charge:--
The Court does not think it necessary to take the prisoner's
evidence on this charge.
4th Charge:--
I crossed the Orange River into the Orange River Colony on or about
the 15th of August last. It is brought back to my memory inasmuch
as Commandant Cachet was killed on the 15th of August in the
district of Venterstad in the Cape Colony. I did not take any
natives prisoner prior to crossing the river. Commandant Wessels
was with me before I got to the river, about five or six miles from
the river he left me and crossed. I crossed the Orange River on the
Bethulie side. Wessels crossed the river on the Norval's Pont side.
I did not see him cross the river. After crossing I went to the
first farm. No one was at home there, and I off-saddled. The name
of the farm is unknown to me. It was a farm that had been burnt.
When I arrived at that farm there was no other commando there.
Before I crossed the river I heard rifle-fire, but after I had
off-saddled for a little while I heard cannon-fire. The firing came
from the west, from the direction which Wessels had crossed the
river. The cannon-firing also came from the same direction.
I mounted a horse and rode up a kopje to see if I could see
anything that might be taking place. The kopje was about 1,000 to
1,200 yards from my laager. I was riding a chestnut horse. I went
to the kopje alone, but a man by the name of Michael Coetzee, whom
I intend to call as a witness, was on the kopje on duty as a
sentinel. I remained there a considerable time. I saw cannon-firing
on a little ridge on the Colony side of the river. I heard
rifle-fire while I was on the kopje. I returned to the laager. The
firing was in the direction of the laager. When I got back to the
laager Commandant Wessels was there, off-saddled. After I arrived
at the camp I spoke to him about the firing I had heard. I knew
that some of the farmer's cattle were being brought in for the
purpose of slaughtering, and I asked Wessels why they fired so many
shots at the animals, and he replied that a couple of Kaffirs had
been shot. I was chaffing Wessels when I asked him why they fired
so many shots at the animals. When I was on the kopje I certainly
did not know that Wessels had taken natives prisoner. I did not see
these natives after they had been shot. I do not know the boy Jan
Louw. I did not speak to him that day, nor to any other native. The
Wessels in question is the Commandant Louis Wessels, who passed
into the Colony from the Orange River Colony, and I met him three
or four days before I crossed. The day after our meeting we had a
skirmish with the British. Wessels and I got separated. The
following day we met again on the farm of Van der Keever. He was
not under my command in the Colony, nor in the Orange River Colony.
I had about between seventy and eighty men when I crossed the
river, and Wessels had between thirty and forty men. I had a few
natives shot in the Orange River Colony prior to my crossing into
the Colony in the first instance. These were tried by Captain
Scheepers, Captain Fouché, and Captain Smit and myself, also Judge
Hugo. The papers were sent to Assistant Chief Commandant Fourie,
and the sentences were approved of by him. That was the only case
of natives having been shot by me.
_Prosecutor's Address._
(Captain L. Daine.)
"As regards the first charge, the natives Jafta and Solomon and the
scouts McCabe and Maasdorp were captured by Wessels, who was in
charge of Kritzinger's scouts. He took them to Grootplaats. McCabe
proves that Wessels then went towards Voetpad, three miles off, and
returned some time afterwards, gave an order to his men, and the
two natives were led off to execution. Boltman's statements that
Kritzinger gave a message for British column commanders, informing
them that armed natives would be shot, are fully corroborated by
what McCabe was told by members of Kritzinger's commando, and
clearly shows Kritzinger's intentions and instructions. Kritzinger
states that he cannot remember whether he gave the message or not.
"The witnesses for the defence all state that there were no
prisoners with the commando at Grootplaats, yet the accuracy with
which they describe different horses, and the date of seeing Van
Aswegen, _i.e._, 13th February, 1901, is little short of
marvellous. Kritzinger states that he mounted a horse and rode to
the kopje, which was about 1,000 to 1,200 yards from the laager,
and that he was riding a chestnut horse, while the witnesses for
the defence state that he was riding a dark bay horse with a star
when he rode to the kopje.
"As regards the natives mentioned in the first charge, McCabe
states that he did not lose sight of them all the time they were
together, and as they were not searched in his presence the passes
could therefore not have been found. They were captured on a farm
in British territory.
"As regards the second charge, Van Aswegen was evidently a member
of Kritzinger's commando, and the witness, Van der Merwe, remembers
seeing him with the commando for three weeks, during which time he
and his men were frequently away. Here again, as concerns spies,
Van Aswegen had the passes in his hand and knew what the boy really
was.
"As regards the fourth charge, the natives were captured in the
Cape Colony, where Kritzinger was Chief Commandant. The statement
that his authority as such ceased the moment he crossed the Orange
River is hardly credible. The natives were shot at Biscuitfontein,
where Kritzinger was laagered at the time, and their dead bodies
were seen by de Klerk there. Jan Louw is very clear as to who the
commandant was. He recognized his photo on two occasions, and
identified him at once in court. The dark brown horse ridden by
Kritzinger to the kopje is probably the black referred to, and his
evidence is corroborated by Jan Jonkers, who, however, failed to
recognize Kritzinger in court, more through fright than anything
else, I think. Both these witnesses state that there was a body of
men at Biscuitfontein when they arrived. This is denied by
witnesses for the defence. The bodies found by Jan Hans must have
been those of Koos and Willem, as the spot is identified as that
described by de Klerk.
"It must be remembered that the witnesses Hugo, Matthijsen, Van
Wijk and de Klerk are all accomplices, and therefore their evidence
must be received with caution, especially after the curiously
minute details they give on some points. It is also worthy of note
that Matthijsen was not examined on the fourth charge, though he
was present with Kritzinger at the time.
"The shooting of these prisoners was absolutely unjustifiable and
illegal, and all concerned must be held equally responsible.
"Wessels took over the command of Kritzinger's commando when the
latter was wounded.
"As regards the proclamation, the only name mentioned in it is that
of Kritzinger, and the proclamation is signed by him. The names of
any of the other commandants are not mentioned in it at all.
"As regards the witnesses for the prosecution, there are three who
have been deported, and therefore could not be obtained."
_Address by the Counsel for the Defence._
(Advocate H.G. Gardiner.)
"Mr. President and Members of the Military Court:--
"We are now reaching the end of a great trial, the great trial of a
great man. Of all the trials that have been held before Military
Courts in this country, this, I may fairly say, is most important.
"No officer of higher or even equal rank to him, who was once Chief
Commandant in this Colony, has yet been tried, and on this trial
much will depend. It is a case the result of which may have great
and far-reaching influence. It may influence greatly the Boer
commandoes in the field. On the verdict now given in his case the
attitude of other leaders will greatly depend. I do not urge this
upon you that you should acquit the prisoner. I do not ask you to
consider the consequences of the verdict you may bring in. I know
that you will bring in whatever verdict you think right regardless
of all consequences, but I do bring these facts before you as a
reason why you should carefully consider the evidence.
"The charge in this case is the charge of murder, the greatest
crime that can be brought against a man. It is a crime of which a
man cannot be technically guilty. You must have the most convincing
evidence before you, and the clearest proof. It is a crime where
intent must be clearly proved; where intent is essential. A
merchant whose agent enters into a contract may be held responsible
to carry out that contract, but a merchant whose clerk commits a
crime cannot be held responsible for that crime. It would, sir, be
intolerable if a leader of a column should be held responsible for
every act committed by the men under his command. We are glad to
know, sir, that in the history of this war British troops have
behaved in an exemplary manner, but there have been occasions when
they have done things not in accordance with the laws and usages of
war, and it would be unfair to hold a general responsible for such
acts of isolated individuals. On the question of intent and what
constitutes responsibility for a crime, I would refer to _Manual of
Military Law_, pages 112 and 113, paragraph 17:--'If the offence
charged involves some special intent, it must be shown that the
assistant was cognizant of the intention of the person whom he
assisted; thus, on a charge of wounding with intent to murder, it
must be shown that the assistant not only assisted the principal
offender in what he did, but also knew what his intention was,
before the former can be convicted on the full charge.' Then again,
paragraph 18. After referring to persons going out with common
intent it says that a person is not responsible for any offence
'committed by any member of the party, which is unconnected with a
common purpose, unless he personally instigates or assists in its
commission.' And to give an example, sir, of common intent, the
purpose for which a commander and his men go on commando is to kill
and destroy the enemy, not that of killing prisoners and
non-combatants, or prisoners without a trial, and if a subordinate
without orders from his superior commits a crime, that superior
cannot be held responsible for it unless he has consented to it or
knew of it. I would also refer to paragraph 20:--'Mere knowledge
that a person is about to commit an offence, and even conduct
influenced by such knowledge, will not make a person responsible
for that offence, unless he does something actively to encourage
its commission.' And last of all I would refer to Army Act, section
6, page 322:--'Every person subject to Military Law who commits any
of the following offences, that is to say (_f_):--Does violence to
any person bringing provisions or supplies to the forces, or
commits any offence against the property of persons or any
inhabitant or resident in the country in which he is
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