Section 19 of 39 - Table of Contents
CHAPTER 19.
PAARDEBERG.
Lord Roberts's operations, prepared with admirable secrecy and
carried out with extreme energy, aimed at two different results,
each of which he was fortunate enough to attain. The first was that
an overpowering force of cavalry should ride round the Boer
position and raise the siege of Kimberley: the fate of this
expedition has already been described. The second was that the
infantry, following hard on the heels of the cavalry, and holding
all that they had gained, should establish itself upon Cronje's
left flank and cut his connection with Bloemfontein. It is this
portion of the operations which has now to be described.
The infantry force which General Roberts had assembled was a very
formidable one. The Guards he had left under Methuen in front of
the lines of Magersfontein to contain the Boer force. With them he
had also left those regiments which had fought in the 9th Brigade
in all Methuen's actions. These, as will be remembered, were the
1st Northumberland Fusiliers, the 2nd Yorkshire Light Infantry, the
2nd Northamptons, and one wing of the Loyal North Lancashire
Regiment. These stayed to hold Cronje in his position.
There remained three divisions of infantry, one of which, the
ninth, was made up on the spot. These were constituted in this way:
Sixth Division (Kelly-Kenny).
12th Brigade (Knox).
Oxford Light Infantry.
Gloucesters (2nd).
West Riding.
Buffs.
18th Brigade (Stephenson).
Essex.
Welsh.
Warwicks.
Yorks Seventh Division (Tucker).
14th Brigade (Chermside).
Scots Borderers.
Lincolns.
Hampshires.
Norfolks.
15th Brigade (Wavell).
North Staffords.
Cheshires.
S. Wales Borderers.
East Lancashires Ninth Division (Colvile).
Highland Brigade (Macdonald).
Black Watch.
Argyll and Sutherlands.
Seaforths.
Highland Light Infantry.
19th Brigade (Smith-Dorrien).
Gordons.
Canadians.
Shropshire Light Infantry.
Cornwall Light Infantry.
With these were two brigade divisions of artillery under General
Marshall, the first containing the 18th, 62nd, and 75th batteries
(Colonel Hall), the other the 76th, 81st, and 82nd (Colonel
McDonnell). Besides these there were a howitzer battery, a naval
contingent of four 4.7 guns and four 12-pounders under Captain
Bearcroft of the 'Philomel.' The force was soon increased by the
transfer of the Guards and the arrival of more artillery; but the
numbers which started on Monday, February 12th, amounted roughly to
twenty-five thousand foot and eight thousand horse with 98 guns--a
considerable army to handle in a foodless and almost waterless
country. Seven hundred wagons drawn by eleven thousand mules and
oxen, all collected by the genius for preparation and organisation
which characterises Lord Kitchener, groaned and creaked behind the
columns.
Both arms had concentrated at Ramdam, the cavalry going down by
road, and the infantry by rail as far as Belmont or Enslin. On
Monday, February 12th, the cavalry had started, and on Tuesday the
infantry were pressing hard after them. The first thing was to
secure a position upon Cronje's flank, and for that purpose the 6th
Division and the 9th (Kelly-Kenny's and Colvile's) pushed swiftly
on and arrived on Thursday, February 15th, at Klip Drift on the
Modder, which had only been left by the cavalry that same morning.
It was obviously impossible to leave Jacobsdal in the hands of the
enemy on our left flank, so the 7th Division (Tucker's) turned
aside to attack the town. Wavell's brigade carried the place after
a sharp skirmish, chiefly remarkable for the fact that the City
Imperial Volunteers found themselves under fire for the first time
and bore themselves with the gallantry of the old train-bands whose
descendants they are. Our loss was two killed and twenty wounded,
and we found ourselves for the first time firmly established in one
of the enemy's towns. In the excellent German hospital were thirty
or forty of our wounded.
On the afternoon of Thursday, February 15th, our cavalry, having
left Klip Drift in the morning, were pushing hard for Kimberley. At
Klip Drift was Kelly-Kenny's 6th Division. South of Klip Drift at
Wegdraai was Colvile's 9th Division, while the 7th Division was
approaching Jacobsdal. Altogether the British forces were extended
over a line of forty miles. The same evening saw the relief of
Kimberley and the taking of Jacobsdal, but it also saw the capture
of one of our convoys by the Boers, a dashing exploit which struck
us upon what was undoubtedly our vulnerable point.
It has never been cleared up whence the force of Boers came which
appeared upon our rear on that occasion. It seems to have been the
same body which had already had a skirmish with Hannay's Mounted
Infantry as they went up from Orange River to join the rendezvous
at Ramdam. The balance of evidence is that they had not come from
Colesberg or any distant point, but that they were a force under
the command of Piet De Wet, the younger of two famous brothers.
Descending to Waterval Drift, the ford over the Riet, they occupied
a line of kopjes, which ought, one would have imagined, to have
been carefully guarded by us, and opened a brisk fire from rifles
and guns upon the convoy as it ascended the northern bank of the
river. Numbers of bullocks were soon shot down, and the removal of
the hundred and eighty wagons made impossible. The convoy, which
contained forage and provisions, had no guard of its own, but the
drift was held by Colonel Ridley with one company of Gordons and
one hundred and fifty mounted infantry without artillery, which
certainly seems an inadequate force to secure the most vital and
vulnerable spot in the line of communications of an army of forty
thousand men. The Boers numbered at the first some five or six
hundred men, but their position was such that they could not be
attacked. On the other hand they were not strong enough to leave
their shelter in order to drive in the British guard, who, lying in
extended order between the wagons and the assailants, were keeping
up a steady and effective fire. Captain Head, of the East
Lancashire Regiment, a fine natural soldier, commanded the British
firing line, and neither he nor any of his men doubted that they
could hold off the enemy for an indefinite time. In the course of
the afternoon reinforcements arrived for the Boers, but Kitchener's
Horse and a field battery came back and restored the balance of
power. In the evening the latter swayed altogether in favour of the
British, as Tucker appeared upon the scene with the whole of the
14th Brigade; but as the question of an assault was being debated a
positive order arrived from Lord Roberts that the convoy should be
abandoned and the force return.
If Lord Roberts needed justification for this decision, the future
course of events will furnish it. One of Napoleon's maxims in war
was to concentrate all one's energies upon one thing at one time.
Roberts's aim was to outflank and possibly to capture Cronje's
army. If he allowed a brigade to be involved in a rearguard action,
his whole swift-moving plan of campaign might be dislocated. It was
very annoying to lose a hundred and eighty wagons, but it only
meant a temporary inconvenience. The plan of campaign was the
essential thing. Therefore he sacrificed his convoy and hurried his
troops upon their original mission. It was with heavy hearts and
bitter words that those who had fought so long abandoned their
charge, but now at least there are probably few of them who do not
agree in the wisdom of the sacrifice. Our loss in this affair was
between fifty and sixty killed and wounded. The Boers were unable
to get rid of the stores, and they were eventually distributed
among the local farmers and recovered again as the British forces
flowed over the country. Another small disaster occurred to us on
the preceding day in the loss of fifty men of E company of
Kitchener's Horse, which had been left as a guard to a well in the
desert.
But great events were coming to obscure those small checks which
are incidental to a war carried out over immense distances against
a mobile and enterprising enemy. Cronje had suddenly become aware
of the net which was closing round him. To the dark fierce man who
had striven so hard to make his line of kopjes impregnable it must
have been a bitter thing to abandon his trenches and his rifle
pits. But he was crafty as well as tenacious, and he had the Boer
horror of being cut off--an hereditary instinct from fathers who
had fought on horseback against enemies on foot. If at any time
during the last ten weeks Methuen had contained him in front with a
thin line of riflemen with machine guns, and had thrown the rest of
his force on Jacobsdal and the east, he would probably have
attained the same result. Now at the rumour of English upon his
flank Cronje instantly abandoned his position and his plans, in
order to restore those communications with Bloemfontein upon which
he depended for his supplies. With furious speed he drew in his
right wing, and then, one huge mass of horsemen, guns, and wagons,
he swept through the gap between the rear of the British cavalry
bound for Kimberley and the head of the British infantry at Klip
Drift. There was just room to pass, and at it he dashed with the
furious energy of a wild beast rushing from a trap. A portion of
his force with his heavy guns had gone north round Kimberley to
Warrenton; many of the Freestaters also had slipped away and
returned to their farms. The remainder, numbering about six
thousand men, the majority of whom were Transvaalers, swept through
between the British forces.
This movement was carried out on the night of February 15th, and
had it been a little quicker it might have been concluded before we
were aware of it. But the lumbering wagons impeded it, and on the
Friday morning, February 16th, a huge rolling cloud of dust on the
northern veld, moving from west to east, told our outposts at Klip
Drift that Cronje's army had almost slipped through our fingers.
Lord Kitchener, who was in command at Klip Drift at the moment,
instantly unleashed his mounted infantry in direct pursuit, while
Knox's brigade sped along the northern bank of the river to cling
on to the right haunch of the retreating column. Cronje's men had
made a night march of thirty miles from Magersfontein, and the
wagon bullocks were exhausted. It was impossible, without an
absolute abandonment of his guns and stores, for him to get away
from his pursuers.
This was no deer which they were chasing, however, but rather a
grim old Transvaal wolf, with his teeth flashing ever over his
shoulder. The sight of those distant white-tilted wagons fired the
blood of every mounted infantryman, and sent the Oxfords, the
Buffs, the West Ridings, and the Gloucesters racing along the river
bank in the glorious virile air of an African morning. But there
were kopjes ahead, sown with fierce Dopper Boers, and those
tempting wagons were only to be reached over their bodies. The
broad plain across which the English were hurrying was suddenly
swept with a storm of bullets. The long infantry line extended yet
further and lapped round the flank of the Boer position, and once
more the terrible duet of the Mauser and the Lee-Metford was sung
while the 81st field battery hurried up in time to add its deep
roar to their higher chorus. With fine judgment Cronje held on to
the last moment of safety, and then with a swift movement to the
rear seized a further line two miles off, and again snapped back at
his eager pursuers. All day the grim and weary rearguard stalled
off the fiery advance of the infantry, and at nightfall the wagons
were still untaken. The pursuing force to the north of the river
was, it must be remembered, numerically inferior to the pursued, so
that in simply retarding the advance of the enemy and in giving
other British troops time to come up, Knox's brigade was doing
splendid work. Had Cronje been well advised or well informed, he
would have left his guns and wagons in the hope that by a swift
dash over the Modder he might still bring his army away in safety.
He seems to have underrated both the British numbers and the
British activity.
On the night then of Friday, February 16th, Cronje lay upon the
northern bank of the Modder, with his stores and guns still intact,
and no enemy in front of him, though Knox's brigade and Hannay's
Mounted Infantry were behind. It was necessary for Cronje to cross
the river in order to be on the line for Bloemfontein. As the river
tended to the north the sooner he could cross the better. On the
south side of the river, however, were considerable British forces,
and the obvious strategy was to hurry them forward and to block
every drift at which he could get over. The river runs between very
deep banks, so steep that one might almost describe them as small
cliffs, and there was no chance of a horseman, far less a wagon,
crossing at any point save those where the convenience of traffic
and the use of years had worn sloping paths down to the shallows.
The British knew exactly therefore what the places were which had
to be blocked. On the use made of the next few hours the success or
failure of the whole operation must depend.
The nearest drift to Cronje was only a mile or two distant,
Klipkraal the name; next to that the Paardeberg Drift; next to that
the Wolveskraal Drift, each about seven miles from the other. Had
Cronje pushed on instantly after the action, he might have got
across at Klipkraal. But men, horses, and bullocks were equally
exhausted after a long twenty-four hours' marching and fighting. He
gave his weary soldiers some hours' rest, and then, abandoning
seventy-eight of his wagons, he pushed on before daylight for the
farthest off of the three fords (Wolveskraal Drift). Could he reach
and cross it before his enemies, he was safe. The Klipkraal Drift
had in the meanwhile been secured by the Buffs, the West Ridings,
and the Oxfordshire Light Infantry after a spirited little action
which, in the rapid rush of events, attracted less attention than
it deserved. The brunt of the fighting fell upon the Oxfords, who
lost ten killed and thirty-nine wounded. It was not a waste of
life, however, for the action, though small and hardly recorded,
was really a very essential one in the campaign.
But Lord Roberts's energy had infused itself into his divisional
commanders, his brigadiers, his colonels, and so down to the
humblest Tommy who tramped and stumbled through the darkness with a
devout faith that 'Bobs' was going to catch 'old Cronje' this time.
The mounted infantry had galloped round from the north to the south
of the river, crossing at Klip Drift and securing the southern end
of Klipkraal. Thither also came Stephenson's brigade from
Kelly-Kenny's Division, while Knox, finding in the morning that
Cronje was gone, marched along the northern bank to the same spot.
As Klipkraal was safe, the mounted infantry pushed on at once and
secured the southern end of the Paardeberg Drift, whither they were
followed the same evening by Stephenson and Knox. There remained
only the Wolveskraal Drift to block, and this had already been done
by as smart a piece of work as any in the war. Wherever French has
gone he has done well, but his crowning glory was the movement from
Kimberley to head off Cronje's retreat.
The exertions which the mounted men had made in the relief of
Kimberley have been already recorded. They arrived there on
Thursday with their horses dead beat. They were afoot at three
o'clock on Friday morning, and two brigades out of three were hard
at work all day in an endeavour to capture the Dronfield position.
Yet when on the same evening an order came that French should start
again instantly from Kimberley and endeavour to head Cronje's army
off, he did not plead inability, as many a commander might, but
taking every man whose horse was still fit to carry him (something
under two thousand out of a column which had been at least five
thousand strong), he started within a few hours and pushed on
through the whole night. Horses died under their riders, but still
the column marched over the shadowy veld under the brilliant stars.
By happy chance or splendid calculation they were heading straight
for the one drift which was still open to Cronje. It was a close
thing. At midday on Saturday the Boer advance guard was already
near to the kopjes which command it. But French's men, still full
of fight after their march of thirty miles, threw themselves in
front and seized the position before their very eyes. The last of
the drifts was closed. If Cronje was to get across now, he must
crawl out of his trench and fight under Roberts's conditions, or he
might remain under his own conditions until Roberts's forces closed
round him. With him lay the alternative. In the meantime, still
ignorant of the forces about him, but finding himself headed off by
French, he made his way down to the river and occupied a long
stretch of it between Paardeberg Drift and Wolveskraal Drift,
hoping to force his way across. This was the situation on the night
of Saturday, February 17th.
In the course of that night the British brigades, staggering with
fatigue but indomitably resolute to crush their evasive enemy, were
converging upon Paardeberg. The Highland Brigade, exhausted by a
heavy march over soft sand from Jacobsdal to Klip Drift, were
nerved to fresh exertions by the word 'Magersfontein,' which flew
from lip to lip along the ranks, and pushed on for another twelve
miles to Paardeberg. Close at their heels came Smith-Dorrien's 19th
Brigade, comprising the Shropshires, the Cornwalls, the Gordons,
and the Canadians, probably the very finest brigade in the whole
army. They pushed across the river and took up their position upon
the north bank. The old wolf was now fairly surrounded. On the west
the Highlanders were south of the river, and Smith-Dorrien on the
north. On the east Kelly-Kenny's Division was to the south of the
river, and French with his cavalry and mounted infantry were to the
north of it. Never was a general in a more hopeless plight. Do what
he would, there was no possible loophole for escape.
There was only one thing which apparently should not have been
done, and that was to attack him. His position was a formidable
one. Not only were the banks of the river fringed with his riflemen
under excellent cover, but from these banks there extended on each
side a number of dongas, which made admirable natural trenches. The
only possible attack from either side must be across a level plain
at least a thousand or fifteen hundred yards in width, where our
numbers would only swell our losses. It must be a bold soldier and
a far bolder civilian, who would venture to question an operation
carried out under the immediate personal direction of Lord
Kitchener; but the general consensus of opinion among critics may
justify that which might be temerity in the individual. Had Cronje
not been tightly surrounded, the action with its heavy losses might
have been justified as an attempt to hold him until his investment
should be complete. There seems, however, to be no doubt that he
was already entirely surrounded, and that, as experience proved, we
had only to sit round him to insure his surrender. It is not given
to the greatest man to have every soldierly gift equally developed,
and it may be said without offence that Lord Kitchener's cool
judgment upon the actual field of battle has not yet been proved as
conclusively as his longheaded power of organisation and his iron
determination.
Putting aside the question of responsibility, what happened on the
morning of Sunday, February 18th, was that from every quarter an
assault was urged across the level plains, to the north and to the
south, upon the lines of desperate and invisible men who lay in the
dongas and behind the banks of the river. Everywhere there was a
terrible monotony about the experiences of the various regiments
which learned once again the grim lessons of Colenso and Modder
River. We surely did not need to prove once more what had already
been so amply proved, that bravery can be of no avail against
concealed riflemen well entrenched, and that the more hardy is the
attack the heavier must be the repulse. Over the long circle of our
attack Knox's brigade, Stephenson's brigade, the Highland brigade,
Smith-Dorrien's brigade all fared alike. In each case there was the
advance until they were within the thousand-yard fire zone, then
the resistless sleet of bullets which compelled them to get down
and to keep down. Had they even then recognised that they were
attempting the impossible, no great harm might have been done, but
with generous emulation the men of the various regiments made
little rushes, company by company, towards the river bed, and found
themselves ever exposed to a more withering fire. On the northern
bank Smith-Dorrien's brigade, and especially the Canadian regiment,
distinguished themselves by the magnificent tenacity with which
they persevered in their attack. The Cornwalls of the same brigade
swept up almost to the river bank in a charge which was the
admiration of all who saw it. If the miners of Johannesburg had
given the impression that the Cornishman is not a fighter, the
record of the county regiment in the war has for ever exploded the
calumny. Men who were not fighters could have found no place in
Smith-Dorrien's brigade or in the charge of Paardeberg.
While the infantry had been severely handled by the Boer riflemen,
our guns, the 76th, 81st, and 82nd field batteries, with the 65th
howitzer battery, had been shelling the river bed, though our
artillery fire proved as usual to have little effect against
scattered and hidden riflemen. At least, however, it distracted
their attention, and made their fire upon the exposed infantry in
front of them less deadly. Now, as in Napoleon's time, the effect
of the guns is moral rather than material. About midday French's
horse-artillery guns came into action from the north. Smoke and
flames from the dongas told that some of our shells had fallen
among the wagons and their combustible stores.
The Boer line had proved itself to be unshakable on each face, but
at its ends the result of the action was to push them up, and to
shorten the stretch of the river which was held by them. On the
north bank Smith-Dorrien's brigade gained a considerable amount of
ground. At the other end of the position the Welsh, Yorkshire, and
Essex regiments of Stephenson's brigade did some splendid work, and
pushed the Boers for some distance down the river bank. A most
gallant but impossible charge was made by Colonel Hannay and a
number of mounted infantry against the northern bank. He was shot
with the majority of his followers. General Knox of the 12th
Brigade and General Macdonald of the Highlanders were among the
wounded. Colonel Aldworth of the Cornwalls died at the head of his
men. A bullet struck him dead as he whooped his West Countrymen on
to the charge. Eleven hundred killed and wounded testified to the
fire of our attack and the grimness of the Boer resistance. The
distribution of the losses among the various battalions--eighty
among the Canadians, ninety in the West Riding Regiment, one
hundred and twenty in the Seaforths, ninety in the Yorkshires,
seventy-six in the Argyll and Sutherlands, ninety-six in the Black
Watch, thirty-one in the Oxfordshires, fifty-six in the Cornwalls,
forty-six in the Shropshires--shows how universal was the
gallantry, and especially how well the Highland Brigade carried
itself. It is to be feared that they had to face, not only the fire
of the enemy, but also that of their own comrades on the further
side of the river. A great military authority has stated that it
takes many years for a regiment to recover its spirit and
steadiness if it has been heavily punished, and yet within two
months of Magersfontein we find the indomitable Highlanders taking
without flinching the very bloodiest share of this bloody day--and
this after a march of thirty miles with no pause before going into
action. A repulse it may have been, but they hear no name of which
they may be more proud upon the victory scroll of their colours.
What had we got in return for our eleven hundred casualties? We had
contracted the Boer position from about three miles to less than
two. So much was to the good, as the closer they lay the more
effective our artillery fire might be expected to be. But it is
probable that our shrapnel alone, without any loss of life, might
have effected the same thing. It is easy to be wise after the
event, but it does certainly appear that with our present knowledge
the action at Paardeberg was as unnecessary as it was expensive.
The sun descended on Sunday, February 18th, upon a bloody field and
crowded field hospitals, but also upon an unbroken circle of
British troops still hemming in the desperate men who lurked among
the willows and mimosas which drape the brown steep banks of the
Modder.
There was evidence during the action of the presence of an active
Boer force to the south of us, probably the same well-handled and
enterprising body which had captured our convoy at Waterval. A
small party of Kitchener's Horse was surprised by this body, and
thirty men with four officers were taken prisoners. Much has been
said of the superiority of South African scouting to that of the
British regulars, but it must be confessed that a good many
instances might be quoted in which the colonials, though second to
none in gallantry, have been defective in that very quality in
which they were expected to excel.
This surprise of our cavalry post had more serious consequences
than can be measured by the loss of men, for by it the Boers
obtained possession of a strong kopje called Kitchener's Hill,
lying about two miles distant on the south-east of our position.
The movement was an admirable one strategically upon their part,
for it gave their beleaguered comrades a first station on the line
of their retreat. Could they only win their way to that kopje, a
rearguard action might be fought from there which would cover the
escape of at least a portion of the force. De Wet, if he was indeed
responsible for the manoeuvres of these Southern Boers, certainly
handled his small force with a discreet audacity which marks him as
the born leader which he afterwards proved himself to be.
If the position of the Boers was desperate on Sunday, it was
hopeless on Monday, for in the course of the morning Lord Roberts
came up, closely followed by the whole of Tucker's Division (7th)
from Jacobsdal. Our artillery also was strongly reinforced. The
18th, 62nd, and 75th field batteries came up with three naval 4.7
guns and two naval 12-pounders. Thirty-five thousand men with sixty
guns were gathered round the little Boer army. It is a poor spirit
which will not applaud the supreme resolution with which the
gallant farmers held out, and award to Cronje the title of one of
the most grimly resolute leaders of whom we have any record in
modern history.
For a moment it seemed as if his courage was giving way. On Monday
morning a message was transmitted by him to Lord Kitchener asking
for a twenty-four hours' armistice. The answer was of course a curt
refusal. To this he replied that if we were so inhuman as to
prevent him from burying his dead there was nothing for him save
surrender. An answer was given that a messenger with power to treat
should be sent out, but in the interval Cronje had changed his
mind, and disappeared with a snarl of contempt into his burrows. It
had become known that women and children were in the laager, and a
message was sent offering them a place of safety, but even to this
a refusal was given. The reasons for this last decision are
inconceivable.
Lord Roberts's dispositions were simple, efficacious, and above all
bloodless. Smith-Dorrien's brigade, who were winning in the Western
army something of the reputation which Hart's Irishmen had won in
Natal, were placed astride of the river to the west, with orders to
push gradually up, as occasion served, using trenches for their
approach. Chermside's brigade occupied the same position on the
east. Two other divisions and the cavalry stood round, alert and
eager, like terriers round a rat-hole, while all day the pitiless
guns crashed their common shell, their shrapnel, and their lyddite
into the river-bed. Already down there, amid slaughtered oxen and
dead horses under a burning sun, a horrible pest-hole had been
formed which sent its mephitic vapours over the countryside.
Occasionally the sentries down the river saw amid the brown eddies
of the rushing water the floating body of a Boer which had been
washed away from the Golgotha above. Dark Cronje, betrayer of
Potchefstroom, iron-handed ruler of natives, reviler of the
British, stern victor of Magersfontein, at last there has come a
day of reckoning for you!
On Wednesday, the 21st, the British, being now sure of their grip
of Cronje, turned upon the Boer force which had occupied the hill
to the south-east of the drift. It was clear that this force,
unless driven away, would be the vanguard of the relieving army
which might be expected to assemble from Ladysmith, Bloemfontein,
Colesberg, or wherever else the Boers could detach men. Already it
was known that reinforcements who had left Natal whenever they
heard that the Free State was invaded were drawing near. It was
necessary to crush the force upon the hill before it became too
powerful. For this purpose the cavalry set forth, Broadwood with
the 10th Hussars, 12th Lancers, and two batteries going round on
one side, while French with the 9th and 16th Lancers, the Household
Cavalry, and two other batteries skirted the other. A force of
Boers was met and defeated, while the defenders of the hill were
driven off with considerable loss. In this well-managed affair the
enemy lost at least a hundred, of whom fifty were prisoners. On
Friday, February 23rd, another attempt at rescue was made from the
south, but again it ended disastrously for the Boers. A party
attacked a kopje held by the Yorkshire regiment and were blown back
by a volley, upon which they made for a second kopje, where the
Buffs gave them an even rougher reception. Eighty prisoners were
marched in. Meantime hardly a night passed that some of the Boers
did not escape from their laager and give themselves up to our
pickets. At the end of the week we had taken six hundred in all.
In the meantime the cordon was being drawn ever tighter, and the
fire became heavier and more deadly, while the conditions of life
in that fearful place were such that the stench alone might have
compelled surrender. Amid the crash of tropical thunderstorms, the
glare of lightning, and the furious thrashing of rain there was no
relaxation of British vigilance. A balloon floating overhead
directed the fire, which from day to day became more furious,
culminating on the 26th with the arrival of four 5-inch howitzers.
But still there came no sign from the fierce Boer and his gallant
followers. Buried deep within burrows in the river bank the greater
part of them lay safe from the shells, but the rattle of their
musketry when the outposts moved showed that the trenches were as
alert as ever. The thing could only have one end, however, and Lord
Roberts, with admirable judgment and patience, refused to hurry it
at the expense of the lives of his soldiers.
The two brigades at either end of the Boer lines had lost no chance
of pushing in, and now they had come within striking distance. On
the night of February 26th it was determined that Smith-Dorrien's
men should try their luck. The front trenches of the British were
at that time seven hundred yards from the Boer lines. They were
held by the Gordons and by the Canadians, the latter being the
nearer to the river. It is worth while entering into details as to
the arrangement of the attack, as the success of the campaign was
at least accelerated by it. The orders were that the Canadians were
to advance, the Gordons to support, and the Shropshires to take
such a position on the left as would outflank any counter attack
upon the part of the Boers. The Canadians advanced in the darkness
of the early morning before the rise of the moon. The front rank
held their rifles in the left hand and each extended right hand
grasped the sleeve of the man next it. The rear rank had their
rifles slung and carried spades. Nearest the river bank were two
companies (G and H.) who were followed by the 7th company of Royal
Engineers carrying picks and empty sand bags. The long line stole
through a pitchy darkness, knowing that at any instant a blaze of
fire such as flamed before the Highlanders at Magersfontein might
crash out in front of them. A hundred, two, three, four, five
hundred paces were taken. They knew that they must be close upon
the trenches. If they could only creep silently enough, they might
spring upon the defenders unannounced. On and on they stole, step
by step, praying for silence. Would the gentle shuffle of feet be
heard by the men who lay within stone-throw of them? Their hopes
had begun to rise when there broke upon the silence of the night a
resonant metallic rattle, the thud of a falling man, an empty
clatter! They had walked into a line of meat-cans slung upon a
wire. By measurement it was only ninety yards from the trench. At
that instant a single rifle sounded, and the Canadians hurled
themselves down upon the ground. Their bodies had hardly touched it
when from a line six hundred yards long there came one furious
glare of rifle fire, with a hiss like water on a red-hot plate, of
speeding bullets. In that terrible red light the men as they lay
and scraped desperately for cover could see the heads of the Boers
pop up and down, and the fringe of rifle barrels quiver and gleam.
How the regiment, lying helpless under this fire, escaped
destruction is extraordinary. To rush the trench in the face of
such a continuous blast of lead seemed impossible, and it was
equally impossible to remain where they were. In a short time the
moon would be up, and they would be picked off to a man. The outer
companies upon the plain were ordered to retire. Breaking up into
loose order, they made their way back with surprisingly little
loss; but a strange contretemps occurred, for, leaping suddenly
into a trench held by the Gordons, they transfixed themselves upon
the bayonets of the men. A subaltern and twelve men received
bayonet thrusts--none of them fortunately of a very serious nature.
While these events had been taking place upon the left of the line,
the right was hardly in better plight. All firing had ceased for
the moment--the Boers being evidently under the impression that the
whole attack had recoiled. Uncertain whether the front of the small
party on the right of the second line (now consisting of some
sixty-five Sappers and Canadians lying in one mingled line) was
clear for firing should the Boers leave their trenches, Captain
Boileau, of the Sappers, crawled forward along the bank of the
river, and discovered Captain Stairs and ten men of the Canadians,
the survivors of the firing line, firmly ensconced in a crevice of
the river bank overlooking the laager, quite happy on being
reassured as to the proximity of support. This brought the total
number of the daring band up to seventy-five rifles. Meanwhile, the
Gordons, somewhat perplexed by the flying phantoms who had been
flitting into and over their trenches for the past few minutes,
sent a messenger along the river bank to ascertain, in their turn,
if their own front was clear to fire, and if not, what state the
survivors were in. To this message Colonel Kincaid, R.E., now in
command of the remains of the assaulting party, replied that his
men would be well entrenched by daylight. The little party had been
distributed for digging as well as the darkness and their ignorance
of their exact position to the Boers would permit. Twice the sound
of the picks brought angry volleys from the darkness, but the work
was never stopped, and in the early dawn the workers found not only
that they were secure themselves, but that they were in a position
to enfilade over half a mile of Boer trenches. Before daybreak the
British crouched low in their shelter, so that with the morning
light the Boers did not realise the change which the night had
wrought. It was only when a burgher was shot as he filled his
pannikin at the river that they understood how their position was
overlooked. For half an hour a brisk fire was maintained, at the
end of which time a white flag went up from the trench. Kincaid
stood up on his parapet, and a single haggard figure emerged from
the Boer warren. 'The burghers have had enough; what are they to
do?' said he. As he spoke his comrades scrambled out behind him and
came walking and running over to the British lines. It was not a
moment likely to be forgotten by the parched and grimy warriors who
stood up and cheered until the cry came crashing back to them again
from the distant British camps. No doubt Cronje had already
realised that the extreme limit of his resistance was come, but it
was to that handful of Sappers and Canadians that the credit is
immediately due for that white flag which fluttered on the morning
of Majuba Day over the lines of Paardeberg.
It was six o'clock in the morning when General Pretyman rode up to
Lord Roberts's headquarters. Behind him upon a white horse was a
dark-bearded man, with the quick, restless eyes of a hunter,
middle-sized, thickly built, with grizzled hair flowing from under
a tall brown felt hat. He wore the black broadcloth of the burgher
with a green summer overcoat, and carried a small whip in his
hands. His appearance was that of a respectable London vestryman
rather than of a most redoubtable soldier with a particularly
sinister career behind him.
The Generals shook hands, and it was briefly intimated to Cronje
that his surrender must be unconditional, to which, after a short
silence, he agreed. His only stipulations were personal, that his
wife, his grandson, his secretary, his adjutant, and his servant
might accompany him. The same evening he was despatched to Cape
Town, receiving those honourable attentions which were due to his
valour rather than to his character. His men, a pallid ragged crew,
emerged from their holes and burrows, and delivered up their
rifles. It is pleasant to add that, with much in their memories to
exasperate them, the British privates treated their enemies with as
large-hearted a courtesy as Lord Roberts had shown to their leader.
Our total capture numbered some three thousand of the Transvaal and
eleven hundred of the Free State. That the latter were not far more
numerous was due to the fact that many had already shredded off to
their farms. Besides Cronje, Wolverans of the Transvaal, and the
German artillerist Albrecht, with forty-four other field-cornets
and commandants, fell into our hands. Six small guns were also
secured. The same afternoon saw the long column of the prisoners on
its way to Modder River, there to be entrained for Cape Town, the
most singular lot of people to be seen at that moment upon
earth--ragged, patched, grotesque, some with goloshes, some with
umbrellas, coffee-pots, and Bibles, their favourite baggage. So
they passed out of their ten days of glorious history.
A visit to the laager showed that the horrible smells which had
been carried across to the British lines, and the swollen carcasses
which had swirled down the muddy river were true portents of its
condition. Strong-nerved men came back white and sick from a
contemplation of the place in which women and children had for ten
days been living. From end to end it was a festering mass of
corruption, overshadowed by incredible swarms of flies. Yet the
engineer who could face evil sights and nauseous smells was repaid
by an inspection of the deep narrow trenches in which a rifleman
could crouch with the minimum danger from shells, and the caves in
which the non-combatants remained in absolute safety. Of their dead
we have no accurate knowledge, but two hundred wounded in a donga
represented their losses, not only during a bombardment of ten
days, but also in that Paardeberg engagement which had cost us
eleven hundred casualties. No more convincing example could be
adduced both of the advantage of the defence over the attack, and
of the harmlessness of the fiercest shell fire if those who are
exposed to it have space and time to make preparations.
A fortnight had elapsed since Lord Roberts had launched his forces
from Ramdam, and that fortnight had wrought a complete revolution
in the campaign. It is hard to recall any instance in the history
of war where a single movement has created such a change over so
many different operations. On February 14th Kimberley was in danger
of capture, a victorious Boer army was facing Methuen, the lines of
Magersfontein appeared impregnable, Clements was being pressed at
Colesberg, Gatacre was stopped at Stormberg, Buller could not pass
the Tugela, and Ladysmith was in a perilous condition. On the 28th
Kimberley had been relieved, the Boer army was scattered or taken,
the lines of Magersfontein were in our possession, Clements found
his assailants retiring before him, Gatacre was able to advance at
Stormberg, Buller had a weakening army in front of him, and
Ladysmith was on the eve of relief. And all this had been done at
the cost of a very moderate loss of life, for most of which Lord
Roberts was in no sense answerable. Here at last was a reputation
so well founded that even South African warfare could only confirm
and increase it. A single master hand had in an instant turned
England's night to day, and had brought us out of that nightmare of
miscalculation and disaster which had weighed so long upon our
spirits. His was the master hand, but there were others at his side
without whom that hand might have been paralysed: Kitchener the
organiser, French the cavalry leader--to these two men, second only
to their chief, are the results of the operations due. Henderson,
the most capable head of Intelligence, and Richardson, who under
all difficulties fed the army, may each claim his share in the
success.
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