On the 25th our long march came to an end with a twelve-mile step into Heidelberg. The band of the Derbyshire Regiment played us in, while our old friend, General Bruce Hamilton, rode out to meet us. We halted on a slope about three-quarters of a mile outside the town, which in its essential features is remarkably like Krugersdorp, the streets being lined with tall blue-gum trees, and the plan of course rectangular, with the usual market square in the centre.

There had been a fight here, and we found Captain Carington Smith again amongst the wounded; this time, as already mentioned, with a bullet through his other knee, but as cheery as ever, and smiling away at seeing us all again. Lieutenant Adrian Taylor, of the regiment, was also here, and very glad we were to see him once more. Like Captain Carington Smith he was detached from the regiment throughout the campaign, serving with the M.I., and was about a month later very severely wounded near Parys when De Wet crossed the Vaal with Lord Kitchener at his heels. Still another Dublin Fusilier met us at Heidelberg—Major Rutherford, Adjutant of the Ceylon Volunteers, who had come over in command of a detachment of that corps.

In addition to all these, General Cooper (our late C.O.) and his A.D.C., Lieutenant Renny, R.D.F., were also coming up from the south, while the 1st Battalion, who had helped to win Alleman's Nek, were not far off.

On arrival at Heidelberg we had marched just 300 miles in twenty-seven days, and although we had not pressed in any way, we had come along fairly well seeing that we were not bound on any specific object, such as the relief of a town, or the participation in a siege or battle. We averaged just over eleven miles a day, including halts at Lichtenburg (two days), Frederickstadt and Krugersdorp (two days), or just a shade under fourteen miles for each marching day.



CHAPTER II.

HEIDELBERG.

'Wherever a man's post is, whether he has chosen it of his own will, or whether he has been placed at it by his commander, there it is his duty to remain and face the danger, without thinking of death, or of any other thing except dishonour.'—Socrates.

'Such officers do the King best service in the end.'—Hamlet.

A considerable force had now assembled at Heidelberg, but it was not to remain there long. General Hunter took over command from General Ian Hamilton, who had had a bad fall from his horse, and shortly moved off to the Free State, where he and his men soon covered themselves with distinction by the rounding-up of Prinsloo's commandoes near Golden Gate, on the Basuto border.

The 2nd Royal Dublin Fusiliers, a half-battalion Somersetshire Light Infantry, and the 28th Field Battery Royal Artillery, with some details, were left to garrison Heidelberg.

The battalion was soon split up into a number of small detachments, and posted at various places along the railway line, which had suffered considerably at the hands of the Boers. Scarcely a bridge remained intact, while the presence of wandering bodies of the enemy in the neighbourhood necessitated the utmost caution and continual vigilance on the part of the companies, half-companies, and even sections, into which some of the companies were at length subdivided.

Headquarters and those companies not on detachment in the meantime had plenty of work cut out for them too. In order to defend the place two hills to the west of the town were occupied, one by the Royal Dublin Fusiliers, known as Dublin Hill, and the other by the Somersetshire Light Infantry. Our hill was put into a most thorough state of defence by many hours of hard labour and efficient work under the direction of Colonel Hicks. Sangars were built on every spur and knoll which afforded a good field of fire; traverses and shelters were numerous; in case of a night attack whitened stones along well-made tracks showed the nearest way to the various posts; while not only every company, but every section, had its well-defined trench or wall to rally on and hold.

To some of us, indeed, all these precautions at the time seemed somewhat excessive, and it is true that no attack was ever made; but just as example is better than precept and practice better than theory, so prevention is better than cure, and there is little doubt that the fortification of that hill, in full view of many a Boer field-glass in the town, whence our movements were of course fully reported as frequently as possible to the enemy in the field, had a deterrent effect on any designs our very active foes might otherwise have contemplated.

On the morning of the 26th the left half-battalion, under Major Bird, was suddenly ordered off to Nigel Road Station, about three miles out on the railway to Johannesburg. The Boers having blown up a bridge between this station and Heidelberg, all stores, &c., arriving from Johannesburg had to be dumped down on the veld here, and it was necessary to have a force on the spot to load them into waggons, as well as to guard them and the trains. These soon began to arrive in large numbers, and as each came up the sides of the railway waggons were opened, and their heterogeneous contents chucked out anyhow into a huge mass. In the mean time R.E. construction trains also arrived, and the quiet little siding was soon a scene of wild bustle and excitement. The R.E. went to work on the broken bridge, and made a most excellent job of it in a surprisingly short time, though a casual inspection of the temporary structure they built for trains to pass over gave the lay mind the impression that an extra strong puff of wind would blow the whole thing over. However, it answered its purpose very thoroughly, and reflected much credit on its constructors.



In the meantime Major Bird soon produced law and order out of chaos. The coolies were made to put mealie-bags in one place and biscuit-boxes in another, while the soldiers built both up into a very serviceable sort of fort for the time being, an example of soldierly adaptability which was not lost on any one who saw it or took part in its erection.

We spent two or three very cheery days at Nigel Siding, the stationmaster's house (two rooms) forming an ideal officers' mess, but on the 28th 'E' and 'F' companies, under Captains Shewan and G. S. Higginson, were recalled to headquarters, 'H' company, under Captain Romer, was sent nine miles nearer Johannesburg to guard Reit Vlei Bridge, while 'G' company remained at Nigel Road to watch over such stores as had not yet been removed. This company was shortly further subdivided by the left half-company, under Lieutenant E. St. G. Smith, being sent to guard a culvert half-way to Reit Vlei Bridge.

In the meantime Colonel Hicks never for a moment relaxed the soldierly precautions which it was his custom to observe, whether the Boers were reported in the neighbourhood or not; and several times rumours of intended attacks did arrive, though they invariably proved false.

The town of Heidelberg itself was very Dutch and seething with malcontents and treachery. One could easily forgive them for not being exactly content, but what one could not forgive was their slimness, their plausible exterior, and their inner mass of falsehood. No class were more bitter than the clergymen, and one of these gentry was strongly suspected of being in constant communication with the Boers in the field, though his oath of neutrality was taken and he was availing himself of our hospitality. On one occasion Captain G. S. Higginson spent the night in an empty house in the town in an attempt to mark this fox to ground, but unfortunately his vigil was unproductive of result.

Lieutenant Haskard was now acting as Railway Staff Officer, and having a very busy time of it, as in addition to hundreds of other duties he had to send rations up and down the line to the various detachments.

On the 9th, Sergeant-Major Burke rejoined the regiment, having been a prisoner since he was wounded at Talana, and left at Dundee. During this time his duties had been ably performed by Colour-Sergeant C. Guilfoyle, now Sergeant-Major, 2nd Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers. Lieutenants Marsh and Weldon also joined here, as Lieutenant Supple had done a few days before. The two former had followed the regiment up the line to Mafeking, and thence across the Western Transvaal in a cape-cart, following very nearly in our tracks. They had an adventuresome journey, and were delighted to reach us at last. Captain Clarke, R.M.L.I., who was attached to the regiment, escorted an important Boer commander, named Van Rensburg, to Johannesburg, on his way to St. Helena.

It is necessary to explain briefly here the situation of the three companies, 'A,' 'E,' and 'F,' under Major English, Captain Shewan, and Captain G. S. Higginson, which had been sent out to guard various points on the line from Heidelberg to Standerton.

'A' and 'E' companies had originally gone out, and were posted at Botha's Kraal. Later on it became necessary to hold Zuikerbosch as well. Major English, with Lieutenant Newton as his subaltern, was sent to garrison it. Taking 'E' company with him and leaving Captain Higginson at Botha's Kraal, Major English, with some 110 Royal Engineers, occupied the post, and at once set about to put it into a thorough state of defence. He fully recognised the inherent weaknesses of his situation, and saw that unless well entrenched he was practically at the mercy of an enemy armed with artillery, as he had none to reply with, while the nearest reinforcements were miles away, and liable themselves to be attacked in force at any moment. He therefore spared no ingenuity in strengthening the position. Having Royal Engineers and a considerable number of Kaffirs at his disposal, he very soon effected his purpose and dug himself comfortably in.

In the meantime signs were not wanting of approaching Boer activity. A large commando, under Hans Botha, was known to be hovering about the neighbourhood, and as it was also known that Botha was occasionally in the habit of spending a night under his own roof—not three miles away—Captain G. S. Higginson made two efforts to catch him napping. But on neither occasion was the chieftain at home, and the unfortunate Higginson, who had selected the darkest and wildest nights as most suitable for his purpose, was foiled each time, and had to withdraw somewhat crestfallen, under a fire of raillery from the ladies of the establishment. He collected some valuable information, nevertheless, and sent in reports of Boers in the vicinity, which, however, were not sufficient to induce General Hart to take any extra precautions.

Such was the situation of affairs when, on the misty morning of July 21st, we at Heidelberg heard the hoarse barking of the accursed pompom, varied by the duller and more menacing note of heavier guns. Anxiously we asked each other what it could be, and reluctantly we came to the conclusion that our comrades were being submitted to shell-fire with no possible chance of reprisal. As the sun rose, the mist did the same, and very soon cheerful messages came twinkling over 'the misty mountain-tops,' announcing that a considerable force of Boers were attacking them, but that they had little fear of not being able to keep them off.

General Hart hastily assembled a small column[10] and marched to Major English's assistance, leaving Colonel Hicks in command of the camp, and as it was quite possible the main attack might be intended for Heidelberg, we took all necessary precautions for the safety of the town.

[Footnote 10: 130 Somersets, 2 guns, 1 pompom, 140 Marshall's Horse.]

Before General Hart's force arrived, the Boers had commenced to withdraw, having discovered that on this occasion they had attacked a veritable hornet's nest.

The hill on which Major English had dug his entrenchments is situated in the angle made by the Zuikerbosch River where it turns sharply to the south, and was on the left bank of the stream. On the other side of the river was the hill occupied by the Royal Engineers. Between these two was the new deviation bridge then under construction. The Kaffirs lived in the hollow between the hills, as did also the Yeomanry, of whom there were about ten, under a very young officer. Major English had given this officer orders that, on any attack taking place, he should at once lead his horses down to the river, where there was a kind of hollow place which would have afforded them excellent cover. This order, however, probably from the suddenness of the attack, was not complied with in time, and the horses were in consequence stampeded almost immediately. The natives also were not long in effecting a rapid southerly movement, for which, of course, they cannot be blamed, and the Boers shelled them lustily as they streamed away.

The Royal Dublin Fusiliers' camp was on the southern slope of the hill, the summit being occupied at night by alternate companies, who stood to arms shortly before dawn. Captain Shewan was on the hill, and on the point of letting the men fall out, when the attack commenced. The trenches were at once manned without the slightest noise or confusion, and the Boers' rifle-fire vigorously replied to.

The two Boer guns were in position on the hills to the north, some 3400 yards off, while the pompom came into action near the Fortuna coal-mine. Owing to the excellent disposition and construction of the defences, the enemy's fire made little or no impression, until after a time they began to move round to the flanks of the position. Their rifle-fire then began to have some effect, but at the same time the fire of the defence had a better target, and after a short time the burghers commenced to withdraw from the rear face of the work. In the meantime they had swung round to the west of the Engineers' hill, and under cover of a grass fire, which was lighted by them and spread right up to the trenches, endeavoured to attack this part of the position, in which, however, they also failed. The enemy continued his endeavours until mid-day, when he commenced to withdraw, his movement being somewhat expedited by the arrival of the reinforcements under the General.

Considering the numbers of the attacking force, and the resolute manner in which they had persevered, the casualties were extraordinarily small, two officers and three men wounded, one of the former being Major English himself; he was struck by a shell splinter in the eye, but most fortunately did not lose the sight of it.

This gallant defence called forth a most eulogistic order from the Commander-in-Chief. The success had come at a time when it was badly needed. The guarding of the railways necessitated the splitting-up of forces, and in more than one recent instance a commander of less foresight than Major English had failed to realise the responsibility of his position, with the result that more additions were made to the already-far-too-long list of 'regrettable incidents.'

The following telegrams passed between General Hart and Major English:—

Helio message received at Zuikerbosch Fort on July 22nd, 1900, from General Hart: 'Received following wire from Lord Roberts. Begins—"Please convey my congratulations to Major English, and all concerned on the gallant manner in which they defended their post on the Zuikerbosch."'

Major English made the following reply:—'All in the Zuikerbosch command thank our General for forwarding Lord Roberts' telegram, which they consider a great honour.'

The following is an extract from Army Orders in South Africa, dated Pretoria, July 26th, 1900:—

'Engagement.—The Field-Marshal Commanding-in-Chief desires that the following account from Major-General A. Fitzroy Hart, C.B., Commanding 5th Brigade, of the successful defence of a post by a small force of infantry against a determined attack of the enemy with guns, be published as an example of what can be accomplished by a small body of resolute men, well commanded and skilfully and judiciously entrenched:—

'From General Hart, Zuikerbosch, to Lord Roberts, Pretoria, July 21st: "Enemy made a determined attempt to destroy my advanced post at Railhead, Zuikerbosch, to-day. Major English, Royal Dublin Fusiliers, commands the post, with two companies of Dublins, ten Yeomanry, and 110 Royal Engineer reparation party, defending the new railway bridge which replaces destroyed one. Boers began attack at daybreak with two or three guns and a pompom, shelling the position hard. They then advanced, and completely surrounded him with mauser fire, keeping it up from 6.20 a.m. to 11.45 a.m., and it was hotly returned. English signalled early to me at Heidelberg, thirteen miles off, that he was surrounded, and holding his own confidently. I started from Heidelberg with two guns, a pompom, 130 Somersets, and 140 Marshall's Horse and Yeomanry, and, on approaching English's position, found he had already beaten off the enemy, and saw them assembled on the heights N.E. of his position, and beginning to ride off N.E. My guns opened fire, and Boers broke into a gallop. The complete repulse of the Boer attack is entirely due to the skill with which Major English had fortified his position, his vigilant arrangements, and the good fighting of the garrison. Casualties: wounded—Lieutenant Greig, severely; Privates Mallon, Stanton, and O'Brien, slightly. The bridge and train not injured. Line only injured to the extent of three rails taken up. Numbers of enemy's casualties not known. Boers sent out an ambulance for wounded, and were seen burying dead."'

The following extracts from a letter from Sapper F. Adcock, published in a home newspaper, are also of interest. After a brief description of the situation, he continues:—'It was at this time that the heliographers of the Dublin's showed their pluck, for, fixing up their stand amidst shot and shell, they got their message through to Heidelberg.... We could watch every move of the Dublins, as the ditch ran in the line of their kopje.... Another bit of pluck well worth seeing happened just as there was a lull in the firing. Two of the Dublins ran from their entrenchments to their tents, quite a quarter of a mile, and carried all their bread in a blanket between them to the entrenchments. The Boers fired three shells at them when they were going back, but two fell short, and the other was right between them.'

The sapper was right, and it is pleasant to read letters like the above when emanating from an entirely independent source. Major English reported most favourably of the signalling, which was necessarily conducted practically in the open, the enemy's projectiles falling all round the operator and Major English, who stood close beside him. For this service Private Farrelly, who sent the message, was awarded the distinguished conduct medal. The two brave men who went out for the bread were Privates Hayes ('A' company) and Townsell ('E' company).

The remainder of our stay at Heidelberg was uneventful except for what might very easily have been a most unpleasant accident. We were all seated at lunch one day when there was a sudden and loud report close at hand. Investigation proved that it came from Captain Pomeroy's revolver (an officer belonging to a West Indian Regiment who was attached to us). He had carelessly left it in his tent loaded, while his servant had still more carelessly fired it off. The only sufferer was an unfortunate animal, Major Bird's charger, which was shot in the hoof.

On our departure on the 27th, Major-General Cooper's Brigade took over the defence of the town.



CHAPTER III.

AFTER DE WET.

'It is vain for you to rise up early.'—Ps. cxxvii. 2.

Having been for a month at Heidelberg, we had begun to quite make it our own, and felt as if we should finish the war where we were. And although there were still any amount of commandoes in the field, we could scarcely be blamed for thinking that the back of the business was broken, and that a few weeks, or at the outside months, must see us returning to England. Well, we reckoned without our host, or rather the hosts of Messrs. Botha, De Wet, De la Rey, & Co., and if we made a mistake we made it in good company.

The Colonel had never ceased fortifying and improving Dublin Hill, and there is no doubt that at the end of July his efforts had resulted in a very sound and efficient post.

Everything pointed to peace and quiet when, late on the afternoon of July 27th, the ominous 'order' call broke the stillness of the crisp wintry evening.

'Come for orders! Come for orders! Hurry up, hurry up; come for orders!'

Who, that soldiered through those long weary months, but must remember that infernal call? For it was characteristic of the war, and owing, doubtless, to the immense tract of country over which it was waged, that not only the rank and file, but even the officers, with one or two exceptions, knew little or nothing of what was going on. Consequently one never knew what the next minute would bring forth, and waited accordingly with ears at tension for the strains of the bugle, whose notes might portend nothing or everything.

On this occasion they were the prelude to one of the most stirring periods in the history of the war—the first great De Wet hunt. It is beside the purport of this volume to discuss the advantages of British infantry pursuing mounted Boers. It has often been maintained that the result of such an apparently hopeless hare-and-tortoise sort of procedure would have been successful on this occasion but for the fact of the unblocking of Olifant's Nek. On the other hand, there are not wanting many who are equally prepared to argue that, although this bolt-hole being open may have facilitated the guerilla's escape, that astute leader would easily have found some other nook or cranny quite sufficient for his purpose had it been shut; while, if the worst had come to the worst, from his point of view, he could, at the sacrifice of his waggons and guns, have dissolved his commando in the night, only to unite again at some more suitable and less column-infected time and place.

At the time we knew nothing of all this; all we knew was that some big move was in progress, for, as we neared the railway next day, train after train steamed through, reminiscent of the vicinity of Epsom on a Derby Day, but that was all. Where we were going, when we were going, why we were going, were all questions quite beyond our ken—not to be answered, indeed, until some days later, when an officer on General Hunter's Staff told us what it was all about.

Our march to the railway on the 28th was a long and trying one, variously computed at from twenty-one to twenty-three miles. Whatever its exact length may have been is immaterial; it was the method in which it was conducted that was so desperately trying. After the usual sketchy apology for a breakfast, the column moved off with the Somersets as advance-guard, and 'F' and 'G' company of the Dublins as rearguard. From a variety of causes the progress was uncommonly slow, and, no halt being made of greater length than a few minutes, the men of the rearguard had a trying time, for any one who has marched behind a column of waggons, &c., miles in length, knows that one practically gets no halt at all from these five-minute snatches, owing to the necessity of continually closing up. It was quite dark when the rearguard hove in sight of the passing trains, and then, to make matters thoroughly uncomfortable, some half-dozen waggons stuck firmly in a snipe-bog, scarcely a mile from their destination.



It looked uncommonly as if the unfortunate rearguard would have to bivouac in that miserable marsh. As everybody was pouring with perspiration from their endeavours with the waggons, and as it was beginning to freeze, while there was no chance of getting at great-coats, blankets, or food unless the waggons came out, out they jolly well had to come—and came. It was ten o'clock before the men got anything to eat, and 11.30 p.m. before our arrangements for the night were completed. Our invaluable French 'chef' had kept some hot soup for the rearguard, and seldom was soup more appreciated than by those famished and frozen warriors.

We now heard that we were going south, and going south by train, and that at all events was something to look forward to. At least it was a change—something to look forward to with anticipation; and certainly it is something to look back upon with a certain amount of amusement, but at the time that railway journey was certainly the reverse of comfortable.

We could not get off as early as we expected to on the 29th. The first train started all right, but owing to the amount of work to be done in getting kit over a small drift that lay between our bivouac of the night before and the station, the second train did not follow it till 3.30 p.m.

After this the difficulty of dispatch increased with each succeeding train, until when it came to entraining reluctant horses and still more reluctant mules practically in the dark, for there was no other light but the dim glimmer of two candle-lamps, the task became herculean, and required an infinity of patience and tact. The General and his staff having gone by the first excursion, the task of bringing along the remainder of the column devolved on Colonel Hicks, with Captain Fetherstonhaugh as his staff officer. They did not complete the entraining until the early hours of the 30th, and then only to find the line blown up in front of them. The fact that no disaster occurred here was owing to Colonel Hicks' determination not to try to get through that night, as he clearly foresaw what actually took place, and that there was nothing to prevent the enemy blowing up the line.

It is necessary now to turn our attention to the second train, which conveyed most of the regiment, under command of Major Bird. Some forty men with their arms and accoutrements were told off to each open truck, necessitating the tightest packing, which, however, had a beneficial effect in so far as it took off the worst part of the constant succession of jerks and jolts which the journey consisted of. But everybody was full of fun, and the men as merry as crickets at the change from the long days of uninteresting 'foot-slogging' and the prospect of a brush with the elusive De Wet.

The officers—about twenty in number—travelled in the guard's van, on the floor of which they made themselves as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.



After passing Vereeniging and duly admiring the excellent work of the sappers, the mess-president proposed that they should sample the hampers he had provided for them. This was carried unanimously, but at that moment the train began to slow up, and, anxious to see every new place, we determined to wait until the train started again, and then enjoy our dinner in peace and comfort.

The sudden explosion of a shell from 'Long Tom' in our midst could not have had a more demoralising effect than the news which greeted us when we came to a standstill. It arrived in the shape of a telegram from the General, ordering the officers to ride in the trucks with the men, and to keep a sharp look-out for attacks from both sides. So there was no chance of any dinners after all, and all our visions of chicken and tongue, whisky and sparklets, and a hot cup of tea or chocolate resolved themselves into a lump of chocolate out of one's haversack and a pull at one's water-bottle. The mess-president proved himself a man of resource on this trying occasion. With hunger gnawing at his vitals he saw a beautiful dinner laid out in a waiting-room for some staff officers. Unable to satisfy his comrades he saw no reason why he himself should go unsatisfied, and in the three or four minutes occupied by the engine in watering he hastily bolted a fine plate of roast beef and potatoes, not omitting a bottle of beer standing hard by, and jumped into the train at the last moment, thanking his astonished host and friend, Major Hickie of the 7th Fusiliers, as the train moved off into the darkness.

Anything more cheerless than the remainder of that night journey it would be hard to conceive. In the first place, when there are forty men in an open truck, it is very difficult to find room for two more. In the second place, it was bitterly cold, and a pitch-dark night. In the third place, the even-money chance of a slab or two of gun-cotton on the line ahead was not a pleasing one to contemplate. In the fourth place, the men were ordered to 'charge magazines,' and to spend several hours jolting along with the cold barrel of a loaded rifle poking one in the ribs, or insinuatingly tucking itself into the nape of one's neck, could by no stretch of imagination or fire-eating ambition be called comforting. However, there was one fine piece of news at any rate to act as a compensation, the surrender of Commandant Prinsloo and three or four thousand men to General Hunter.



Once or twice ghostly forms on horseback loomed suddenly out of the blackness of the veld, momentarily lit up by the glare from the engine. On each occasion they shouted some warning, but what it was nobody could make out. Our engine-driver fully expected to be blown up, and had taken the bit between his teeth, cracking on at a pace that stirred up the living contents of the trucks behind him, until if any one of them had had a spare morsel of fat on him, he must inevitably have been churned into butter. Carrying on at this rate, we soon arrived at our destination, a small station called Kopjes. And when very shortly after our arrival two or three dull explosions in the direction whence we had come signified that the line had been blown up right enough, our gratitude to the engine-driver was considerably increased. Nor did his solicitude for our welfare end even then, for having effected his object, he said we could have as much boiling water out of the engine as we liked, and in less than sixty seconds we were drinking steaming hot chocolate, and returning grateful thanks to our host. If any one class more than another deserved special recognition during this war, it was the railway staff—the drivers, stokers, and guards. It is no exaggeration to say that during the whole war no train was ever run at night but that these men did not run the risk of being blown sky-high, in addition to all the other incidental dangers of their hazardous calling.

The break in the line necessitated our waiting some two or three days at the station, until the remainder of the column got through. When it was at last assembled, we marched off due west, towards the sound of heavy firing in the distance. A march of fourteen miles brought us within sight and almost within range of a long, low line of kopjes, and here, we were informed on our arrival, was the famous guerilla chief, surrounded—so we were informed—at last, and only awaiting the arrival of our column to be finished off altogether. Without going so far as some of the subalterns, who on hearing he was surrounded seemed to anticipate the sight of De Wet in the middle of a sort of cock-pit, with the British forces sitting round, there still seemed a considerable number of sufficiently large gaps in the chain of columns and brigades slowly and ponderously extending round either flank of the Boer position. The firing we had heard had been from the Boer guns, they having shelled the Derbyshire Regiment out of their camp, which had been pitched imprudently close to the harmless-looking kopjes. Needless to say, there was not a move of any sort to be seen, and how on earth three or four thousand men managed to conceal themselves so absolutely must ever remain a marvel. True, their camp was beyond the crest-line, but it is certain they had outposts and sentries on the look-out, and these must of necessity have been posted where they could see us; but certain it was we could not see them, carefully as telescopes and Zeiss glasses swept every inch of the hills.

Unfortunately we had to leave eighty-nine men behind at the railway, as they had no boots, a serious matter with every probability of a stiff fight on our hands: for General Hart's orders were to prevent De Wet going south; to attack, if necessary, to make him go north, but not to allow him to go in any other direction. This being so, our object was effected, as will appear later on.

Another and equally sudden interruption to a meal took place on August 1st. Marshall's Horse, a Colonial corps of whom we saw a good deal, had gone out on a reconnaissance in the morning, and had some scrapping with the enemy's patrols, &c. But now word suddenly came that they were surrounded, and in a tight corner. Hastily dropping knives and forks, we fell in almost at the double, and, though somewhat struck by the incongruity and apparent anomaly in the fact of our cavalry being surrounded by the Boers when we had been distinctly informed that it was we who were surrounding them, set off as hard as we could lay legs to the ground. After marching between four and five miles, well within the hour, we met the doctor of our mounted corps, who said he had been taken prisoner and released, and that there was no necessity for going any further, as our friends had beaten off our enemies and were on their way back. So back we trudged too, meeting on the way what most of us thought was a squadron of cavalry, but which turned out to be Brigadier-General Little's cavalry brigade. The sight of the attenuation of this force afforded us food for reflection, and made some of us begin to understand a little how it was that, in spite of our magnificent paper forces, we still found such difficulty in rounding-up our foes.

The next three or four days were uneventful. Lord Kitchener arrived and took over the chief command of all the forces, which now really seemed to be closing in on De Wet. The noose was being drawn tighter and tighter daily, and the Boers' position became more and more precarious. What would have happened but for Lord Kitchener's arrival it is hard to say, as General Hart, ever impatient of passivity, a very Ney for pertinacity of attack, personal bravery, and confidence in his troops, was undoubtedly on the eve of launching an attack. But in the light of the succeeding events, it is clear now that such an attack would have been premature and ill-timed. In the event of its non-success—and we had a very small force to carry it out with—the general operations would have been completely ruined, for we being the Southern force, there would have been nothing to prevent De Wet going south. In the event of success it would merely have meant that the Boers would have slipped away north two or three days sooner than they did, when, seeing that our arrangements to intercept them were not even then complete, an earlier start would have enabled them to carry out their retreat with even greater ease.

Major King, of General Hunter's staff, now arrived in camp with a Boer prisoner, one of Prinsloo's staff. The latter was being sent through with a message to De Wet, informing him of the full magnitude of the Boer surrender at Golden Gate, and advocating his own relinquishment of further operations. They went through to the Boers' position, and were courteously received, but General De Wet declared it was impossible for him to think of giving up now, as he had President Steyn with him. Nobody believed in the excuse, and its purport is somewhat difficult to understand, but it ended the conference, and Major King and his prisoner returned to camp.

Major English, whose eye had proved troublesome and kept him behind, now rejoined the battalion, to everybody's gratification, for the publication of Lord Roberts's army order, which took place at this time, had made us all very proud of him and his men.

On the 5th an order was given to send out a small force, consisting of two companies of the regiment, a pompom, and a troop of Marshall's Horse, to a point five miles N.N.E. of the camp, in order to fill up a somewhat big gap between General Hart and the 3rd Cavalry Brigade. 'B' and 'G' companies, under an officer of the regiment, with Captain Nelson, R.M.L.I., and Lieutenants Smith and Molony as subalterns, and Lieutenant Nek of Marshall's Horse, were selected, and started as soon as the men's dinners were finished. General Hart rode out later on, and, catching this force up, selected a site, and gave orders to the officer commanding it to dig himself in, promising that the pompom, which had not turned up, should be sent on.

In the meantime the remainder of General Hart's force also started digging, a very different state of affairs to his premeditated attack a couple of days earlier.

The detachment sent out patrols on the morning of the 6th to see if they could draw the enemy's fire, with strict injunctions to content themselves with doing so and then withdraw. This they soon succeeded in doing. On their return they passed a farmhouse, and received information that an important Boer General was in the habit of sleeping there sometimes. Visions of a capture of De Wet inflamed the minds of some of the younger officers, and on the night of the 6th-7th Captain Nelson and Lieutenant Smith, with a few picked men, made a raid on the house. However, they found nobody but womenfolk, and returned empty-handed.

Next day commenced our memorable pursuit. De Wet and his merry men had slipped away over the ford bearing his own name as neatly as a cherry-stone from between finger and thumb, and, with their heads turned north, were to give us, and many another converging column like us, the hunt of our lives. The regiment started at 11.30 and only halted at dusk, some three miles from a range of hills on which rumour said the Boers were going to stand and fight it out to the bitter end, even if the whole British Army came against them. 'B' and 'G' companies did not get in until 9 p.m., as, in addition to having an extra five miles to march, they had some trouble with their waggons.

We marched all day on the 8th in an easterly direction along the left or southern bank of the Vaal River—a long, tiring, uneventful trek. Expecting momentarily to see our prey delivered over to us, our spirits sank lower and lower as the day dragged on with no sign of any Boers. There was the usual aggravating little drift to be negotiated at 6 p.m. only half a mile short of our camping-ground for the night, but eventually we got all the waggons over, and men and officers obtained something to eat. This proved one of the coldest nights of the winter, and there was ice instead of water in most of the water-bottles next morning when reveille went at 3.30 a.m.

Starting at 5 a.m. we again went steadily on till 6 p.m., making well over thirteen hours without food. We skirted round the south of Parys, a name which appealed strongly to a good many of us, and suddenly heard the welcome sound of heavy firing not very far ahead. The column halted, and word soon came that this time our pains were really to be rewarded; the Boers were only six miles ahead, and Lord Methuen was engaged with their rearguard. All signs of hunger and fatigue at once disappeared, the regiment started trekking off once more, instinctively 'stepping out' as they went. The guns still thundered invitingly just ahead, and as we topped each fresh horizon or rounded the slope of the next kopje we all expected to see our prey close in front. But it was not to be. As the afternoon wore on the sound of the guns died away, until at last we came to a halt at dusk in a sort of amphitheatre among the low hills. Too tired to want much food, the men sank down with the delightful nightcap that reveille might again be expected at 3.30 a.m.

The 10th proved more or less a repetition of the preceding days. Starting at 5 a.m., we did not halt till well after dark, the waggons, kits, food, &c., not getting up to us till 10 p.m. Seeing that there was no chance of any other food, some bullocks were commandeered, and the men cooked them in little chunks in their mess-tins over the grass fires. Tired out as they were it was too cold to get any sleep without blankets, and long lines of melancholy soldiers could be seen standing along the edges of the grass fires, against which their figures were outlined in bold silhouette, and from whose scanty flames they endeavoured to get what little warmth they could. Everybody was wet through to the knee, a good many to the waist, while some were soused all over, for in the course of our march we had turned due north, and crossed the Vaal at Lindeque Drift. The river is very broad here, and split up into numerous small streams, in the wading of which many humorous incidents took place, owing to the slippery nature of the rolling stones in the bottom of the river. A rolling stone may not gather much moss, but it is undoubtedly capable of gathering a considerable quantity of slimy weeds, and when concealed by two or three feet of running water it offers about as precarious a footing as it is possible to imagine.



Winding our way through the low hills on the Transvaal side of the river, we at length emerged on to an enormous plain. The far horizon was bounded by the Gatsrand hills, with which, as with another detached clump of rounded kopjes on our left, known as the Losberg, we were destined ere long to become closely acquainted. As we finally turned in about 11 p.m. we heard reveille was not to sound till 4.30 a.m., but when some subaltern attempted a feeble joke about a 'Europe morning,' his effort met with nothing but silent contempt.

There is little doubt that any one who shared in that next day's march will never forget it. As we proceeded across the illimitable plain a strong head-wind began to blow, increasing in strength as the day wore on. De Wet had fired all the grass ahead of us, with the result that the air was laden with millions and millions of particles of minute ashes and sharp cinders. These soon filled eyes, ears, nostrils, throats, and lungs, until breathing became well-nigh impossible, and the agony caused by their penetration into our eyes almost intolerable. But woe to him who endeavoured to alleviate his distress by wiping his eyes with grimy hands. Such action merely had the effect of 'rubbing it in,' and so accentuating the misery and discomfort. The men very soon began to fall out in ever-increasing numbers. On one occasion Captain Nelson, R.M.L.I., was seen straggling off right away from the column. Lieutenant Bradford went after him and found that he was temporarily quite blind. At last, after hours of torment, we reached a pass in the Gatsrand, on the far side of which we halted, as night fell. A big grass fire almost immediately broke out, and as the grass was long and thick, and a strong wind still blew to fan it, things looked very ugly. The flames swept right through the camp, but luckily the tents were not up. But what would happen when they reached the guns and ammunition? What, indeed, might have happened, but for the gallantry of the gunners and naval detachment, it is hard to say. As it was the ammunition-waggons caught fire and were sufficiently charred to demonstrate the closeness of the danger. But, as ever, 'the handy-man' was to the fore, and with promptitude and courage, that could not have been excelled, managed to extinguish the flames.

And now for a wash—what, no water! No water, which, hungry and exhausted as they were, every one wanted even more than food. But, alas! it was too true, and after contenting ourselves with some liquid mud, flavoured with charcoal, called coffee, and some few mouthfuls of tough old trek-ox, liberally peppered with burnt grass, we only waited to hear that reveille was to be at 1.30 a.m. before sinking down to snatch what rest was possible. This delightful spot rejoiced in the refreshing name of Orange Grove.

The 12th of August. Shade of St. Grouse! At 3 a.m. we were on the move in bright moonlight and sharp frost, with a wind blowing which cut like a knife. After doing some sixteen or seventeen miles we arrived about 10 a.m. at Wolverdiend station—a large force of cavalry and infantry assembled there, moving out as we moved in. Camp was pitched, and a good meal cooked—our first respectable one for three days—and then—then came the order to start off again in the afternoon. Wearily we resumed that march, but even as we started the prospect was brightened by the sound of heavy guns ahead, on our right front. We finally bivouacked for the night on the most stony kopje in all South Africa. It was impossible to find a spot anywhere that did not consist of sharp, jagged rocks, rendering sleep, to any troops less tired than we were, an utter impossibility. A rumour credited Lord Methuen with again having brought De Wet to bay, and we were almost positively assured that next day would end our laborious march.

No less than ten mules were lost during the day, from utter exhaustion. Many a heart, weary in itself, ached yet more deeply for the sufferings entailed on the dumb animals.

Reveille at 2, off at 3, was our time-table for the next day. After proceeding some five or six miles, the force came to the pretty little Mooi River. The Colonel found an excellent place for us to cross it, compared to the spot where the Somersets were obliged to plunge in. A halt was called on the far side, and a scratch meal taken. While thus employed, some of our troops who had been De Wet's prisoners, amongst them a couple of our own men, came in. They had been with De Wet's rearguard, and told us that when Lord Methuen had shelled it the day before, they had managed to escape; also that the fire of Lord Methuen's guns had knocked over a Boer gun and exploded one of their ammunition waggons. They added that De Wet was in command of a very considerable force, and some distance ahead.



We presently resumed the pursuit, finally camping in some very desolate country, where the water was scarce and bad. Signs of over-fatigue and want of sleep were now becoming very apparent, a large number of men falling out and riding on the waggons. Poor fellows! they stuck it out as long as ever they could, but their socks gave out from the constant wettings, and they pitched them away, marching on in their boots until the pain of the raw chafes became too much to bear. There was never a grumble or complaint: a man simply asked to see his Captain, and respectfully said his feet had given way, and he must regretfully fall out. The officers knew it was true, and felt for their comrades whose emaciated kits precluded the possibility of a change. To such a state was the column now reduced that the General, who had ordered reveille for 2 a.m. the following morning, actually put it back till 6 o'clock.

The regiment acted as rearguard on the 14th, and did not start till 9 a.m., halting for a short time at mid-day near a blown-up Boer ammunition waggon. Every conceivable sort and kind of small-arm ammunition lay scattered around on the veld, and those who were keen on curios of this description made quite a collection of full and empty cases.

The battalion lost eleven more mules, the poor brutes simply falling to the ground from utter exhaustion, being perforce left where they lay. We arrived in camp at 5.30 p.m., and then for the first time, in at all events some of our lives, heard two reveilles in one day, the hated call blaring in our ears at 10.30 p.m. Starting at 12, we pushed on, belts tightened, teeth clenched, and simply determined not to give in. We were told that the cavalry brigades had De Wet at last at the foot of the Magaliesberg, only sixteen miles ahead. So on we went into the sheer and bitter night, more like ghostly shadows than anything else, as the spectral column wound its way through sleeping villages and over mile after mile of dark and silent veld. At last our eyes were gladdened by the sight of twinkling watch-fires on the slopes of some hills just ahead, and as the first signs of dawn began to become manifest, we sank wearily down to enjoy a few minutes' repose. But it was broad daylight when we woke, and alas! for all the hopes of the past eight days, the hills ahead were only occupied by our cavalry. Theirs had been the watch-fires of the dark hours of the night. The game was up, and we were told the first great De Wet hunt was over. Some one had failed to stop the earth; the fox had foiled his pursuers, and the various Generals reluctantly whipped off their hounds.

It was a bitter disappointment. We had been so buoyed up by the promises held out to us. Every one had so thoroughly entered into the job, and plodded stolidly along; and all for nothing. Work which, if successful, would have lived in history, but which, being unsuccessful, was fated to be forgotten and ignored; and unsuccessful through no fault of any of the troops engaged in it. There was no General or Staff to blame: no regiment or department which could be hauled over the coals. No; some one had blundered, that was all. The point has never been exactly cleared up, and probably never will be, and there the matter ended.

'Lay not your blame on me: if you have lost him, Why, I have lost him too.'—Othello.

So we turned over and fell asleep again, and woke up at 9 a.m. and had some breakfast, and were about to fall asleep again when the word came to fall in and march on to some other bivouac. The one we were in was good enough for us, but of course there was nothing for it but to obey, and we marched to a small village called Rietfontein. Here we heard that Colonel Hore's column was surrounded, and in a bad way, some eighty miles off, and that we were to form part of a small force, and make a forced march to his relief.

Accordingly the column marched at 8 a.m. next morning. After going about two miles, an order arrived saying we were to go back; and back we went—a somewhat profitless proceeding, but doubtless unavoidable. The remainder of the day was spent resting, but it was known that reveille was to sound at midnight, and that we were to make a big effort next day.

Starting at 1 a.m., and steadily tramping on till 9.30 a.m., we put twenty miles behind us. A halt was then made for a meal in rather a pretty spot, which actually boasted of some trees sufficiently large to afford shade, and under the foot of some well-wooded kloofs on our right. Resuming our march, we did some two or three miles more when word came that Colonel Hore was all right, having made a most gallant resistance and suffered many casualties, and that we were to go back the way we had come and march to Pretoria.

By the time we got back to our bivouac it was still early in the day, and we had already marched twenty-five miles. Five more mules had fallen dead, making a total of thirty-eight since we started on the 7th.

On the 18th we resumed our return journey, if return journey it could be called, since wherever we were going it was a hundred to one against its being the place we had come from. After a short trek we out-spanned for breakfasts, and an order was then given that we were to stay where we were and bivouac there for the night.

We moved to Vlakfontein next day, a distance of about sixteen miles, and the march quite uneventful. Rumour, however, pointed to Krugersdorp as our destination, and this must have been the exception that proves the rule, for on this occasion rumour proved right.

Another long and equally uninteresting march of eighteen or nineteen miles, only relieved by the arrival in hot haste of an indignant Marquis. It appeared he had been at a farm some two miles off on our left front, and had been offered some tea, which he had refused, and on leaving the house had been shot at by about a dozen Boers. What it was all about, or what he had been doing alone at this farm, and why the Boers should not shoot at him when he withdrew, none of us could quite make out. However, there were some Boers there, so the Colonel fired a few long-range volleys in the direction indicated, but declined to make a deviation with a view to reprisals.

Another eighteen miles on the 31st brought us to within about eight of Krugersdorp. About time too, for the men's boots were giving way badly, and scarcely one in ten had any socks.

The eight miles proved to be very long ones, however—longer than even Irish miles—and although we had made an early start, it was noon before we at last reached Krugersdorp for the second time. On this occasion we halted on a hillside just outside the north of the town, and beside a sort of small suburb on the further side of the creek.

Since leaving Heidelberg we had marched 289 miles. But of this distance 123 had been covered in the week during which we pursued De Wet, and 228 in the fortnight commencing August 7th. The longest distance covered in any one day had been the 25 miles on the day we turned. This marching was not done on roads it must be remembered, but across country, over hills, and through rivers, with frequent troubles with the unfortunate transport to overcome, and with very little food, and that of an inferior quality.

So ended our attempt on foot to catch De Wet on a thoroughbred. It was hopeless from the first, and yet went within measurable distance of succeeding, though even if we had rounded up some of his force at Olifant's Nek, it is very doubtful if De Wet himself would have been caught.



CHAPTER IV.

SEPTEMBER IN THE GATSRAND.

'Why gaddest thou about so much?'

Jer. ii. 36.

From August 23rd to 28th we obtained a very welcome week's rest, which would have been more enjoyable had the weather not broken badly, resulting in a succession of cold, high winds and heavy thunderstorms. These latter were of the most abominable description and a severe trial to those of us whose nervous systems were so constituted as to be affected by them. Some declared that they liked them; others frankly admitted that they detested them. They seemed to have a way of coming along about 4 p.m., and as soon as they got into position, immediately above our heads, opened fire. Needless to say, in the course of the long campaign there were a good many very narrow shaves, and one of our men was actually killed by lightning. The storms were almost invariably accompanied by torrential rain, which, though adding greatly to our discomfort, mitigated the danger, the local cognoscenti assuring us that even they looked upon a dry thunderstorm as no joke.

The regiment was a good deal split up at this time owing to the men we had dropped behind us on our late trek; they had fallen out from a variety of causes, but ninety per cent. of them on account of sore feet or lack of boots. There were no less than 160 at Wolverdiend, 50 at Rhenoster, 40 at Wolverhoek, and so on. The Colonel made many attempts to gather up his chickens once more, but when we started on our next trek we were still deficient of a good many. Major Bird left us at this time to go to Natal, where he was to arrange about our property, and organize orderly-room papers, etc. Major English was unfortunately down with a severe attack of dysentery, and had it not been for Major Rutherford's arrival on the morning of the 29th the battalion would have been Majorless. Our padre, Father Mathews, presented us with a very fine pair of koodoo horns which he picked up at a store while we were here. He had originally been attached to the Royal Irish Fusiliers, but had come to us after Nicholson's Nek. He remained with us till the end of the war, and proved himself a brave soldier and a welcome member of the mess.



Orders were eventually issued for a start at 6 a.m. on the morning of the 29th, but a night of heavy rain and succession of thunderstorms put an early start out of the question, and we did not get off till 3 p.m. The force was known as the Pochefstroom Column,[11] and our mission, as far as we knew, was to lay waste the country between Krugersdorp and that place, to fight the enemy whenever we met him, to bring in women and children, to destroy anything in the way of forage, &c., which might be useful to our enemies, if we could not bring it along for our own use; to collect waggons, cape-carts, animals, harness, &c.; and generally to carry fire and sword throughout the land.

[Footnote 11: South Wales Borderers, Royal Dublin Fusiliers, half-battalion Somersetshire Light Infantry, 4.7 Naval Gun, 28th Battery Royal Field Artillery, Marshall's Horse, and Yeomanry.]

Moving off in a southerly direction through the town, we came to what should have been a harmless little drift, about two or three miles out. The recent rains had, however, transformed it into a formidable obstacle, and waggon after waggon stuck hopelessly in its miry embrace. The General, therefore, determined to halt on a rising slope on the far side, and as many waggons as possible were man-handled over the bog. Tents were pitched, but scarcely were they up when a furious storm burst overhead. In a minute everything and everybody was soused through and through, the scene being vividly lit up by the almost continuous flashes of vivid lightning, while the crashing, bellowing boom of the thunder in our ears made voices inaudible and orders perfectly useless. What sort of teas the regimental cooks prepared we did not know, but the invaluable and ubiquitous Corporal Tierney managed to bring each of us a cup of hot tea and a rasher or a steak in our tents. The storm lasted till dawn, when the heavy clouds, as if despoiled of their victims by the rising sun, reluctantly drew off northwards. A glorious morning was the consequence, but, of course, there was no chance of trekking for some hours to come.

At 2 p.m. a start was again made, but as the tents and everything else were soaked through, and weighed fifty per cent. more than they would under ordinary circumstances, there was little hope that our transport animals would be able to drag them through any bad drifts. We only managed to do some seven miles before darkness came on, when we camped for the night at the Madeline Gold-mine. It was jumpy work here, as the whole place was honeycombed with prospecting-holes and ditches, varying in depth from three feet to about three hundred. How on earth no one fell in must ever remain a mystery, as, to add to the delightful freshness of the situation, a large herd of bullocks took command, and meandered through the camp, one of which moved the mess president on some considerable distance, fortunately for him with a horn on each side of him, instead of one through him, as was doubtless intended.

We marched from the Madeline at 7 a.m. on August 31st, and after trekking some miles arrived at a large coal-mine, which seemed to be in very good order. This country had been the scene of a goodish bit of fighting. Not far off the ill-fated Jameson raid had come to its inglorious conclusion; a little further on the Gordons had suffered severely during the advance on Johannesburg; and here the Pochefstroom column was to be 'blooded.'

We did not know that anything interesting was on the tapis until we saw the white cotton-wool puffs of our shrapnel bursting against a range of kopjes in our front. Then the Colonel told us that there were supposed to be a good many Boers on ahead, and that the General had gone off with a portion of the column to attack them, while we were to advance and seize and hold a nek, with a view to cutting off the retreating Boers, or threatening their left flank, or reinforcing our right, or some obscure purpose. It was the same in so many of our days of scrapping and trekking. Talk about the fog of war: we who were actually in the battle knew nothing about it. Doubtless the Commanding Officer was in the know, but the Company Officer, the commander of what is now recognised as the real fighting unit, he knew nothing. It was a funny fight. We trekked along, unconcernedly watching the pretty effect of our friends the gunners' practice; able with glasses to see the stones and dust driven ahead when the shells burst low; but unable to see any Boers. On reaching our destined spot we lay down and had a smoke, and thought of all sorts of things other than fighting, until at last news came from the General, and we heard we had fifteen casualties. So it had been quite a battle after all, as fights were going in those days, when any scrap that resulted in a casualty was known as a hardly-contested engagement.

On the 1st we moved to a rather pretty camp, close under the far side of the hills, called Jakfontein. The General and the troops he had with him on the 31st arrived at about 5.15 p.m., and camped alongside. The General told the Colonel they had had quite a victory yesterday, driving the Boers from their position, and occupying it at nightfall. They also thought they had done a good deal of damage to them with our guns, as they withdrew.

The column did not march on the 2nd, but two companies ('E' and 'F') under Captain Shewan proceeded to Bank Station as escort to the wounded, while two more ('A' and 'B'), under Major Rutherford, were sent off to commence the burning and looting, which, as far as we could understand, was the raison d'etre of the column. However that might be, there was a tremendous fuss on their return, and all sorts of accusations made re looting. There is no disguising the fact that we were altogether too squeamish, and that the orders on these and subsequent occasions were capable of more than one interpretation. Here were we in an enemy's country, badly off for a cart, let us say, for the officers' mess; the very thing is found in an unoccupied farm; to bring it along and use it was to loot: to burn it was to obey orders. At this length of time it is easy to write dispassionately, and there can be no harm in saying that it was vexing to be found fault with when under the impression that one was doing one's best for the general good, and not in any way profiting oneself. A few days later an officer searching a farm for concealed weapons, &c., came across a heavy ebony stick—just the thing he wanted. The old Boer lady made a great fuss about his taking it, saying it was all she had to beat the Kaffirs with. That finally determined him, more especially as he was not exactly standing on ceremony at the time, seeing the next company was being sniped at, and his turn liable to come at any moment.

Captain G. S. Higginson was appointed Remount officer, and from this moment we began to lose sight of him, to everybody's great regret.

After spending another day in bringing in forage and supplies, the column started at 9 p.m. on the 3rd on a night march. For the first four or five miles all went well, and the advance-guard, under the careful leading of Captain Romer, maintained the right direction. Then, however, the road made a sharp turn, and although Captain Romer's party followed the turn right enough, part of his advance-guard, under a subaltern, went wandering off into the black night. It took some time to retrieve them, and as the column immediately afterwards came to a deep drift, it was considerably delayed. 'G' company was sent up a high hill on the left to guard that flank until the whole of the transport and rearguard was past, and the cold on the top was a thing to remember. The main column got into bivouac shortly after 1 a.m., but this unfortunate company was out till 5, which, seeing the march was resumed at 6, was rather hard luck. However, there was plenty of that going for everybody in those days, and after the usual short 'grouse,' the sleepless night was forgotten.

After moving into the hills about eight miles further, and passing through some beautiful farms, with every peachtree a mass of glorious bloom, the column halted. The Imperial Yeomanry, who had been scouting far ahead, now found themselves perilously involved with a small body of the enemy. General Hart, with a portion of the column, including the artillery and naval gun, moved out to extricate them, and very soon we heard heavy fighting going on. He succeeded in his object, however, at the expense of four of the Yeomanry wounded and one man killed. In the meantime, Colonel Hicks had thrown out outposts on the hills, 'G' company coming in for another sleepless night, probably through some mistake in the roster. Captain Nelson, R.M.L.I. (attached), had a somewhat peculiar experience. Having been detained for some purpose when his company was going out, he gave Lieutenant Marsh, his subaltern, orders where to go, and later on followed himself. But then he couldn't find them. Nor could the other companies on other hills see anything of them, though signals were flashed in the direction they had taken. It was not until next morning that they were discovered, quite close to the place they had been ordered to go to. It was characteristic of the nature of the country in which we were operating, and the excellent manner in which they hid themselves, that Captain Nelson should have missed them, for at one time he must have passed quite close to the piquet.

Next morning Boers were reported in the vicinity. It is impossible to say they were in our front, as our front coincided with the report of the first visible Boer, and we simply went for anything we saw. Rumour put this force at 700 strong, but most people considered that an exaggerated estimate. We moved off in three columns: the South Wales Borderers took the right, moving along the difficult, serrated tops of the hills; the cavalry and yeomanry took the lower, more undulating, easier hills to the left, while the rest of us with the guns moved along in the centre; the General, conspicuous by a large red flag which a trooper carried behind him, moving wherever any opposition presented itself. It must be the unanimous opinion of all troops who knew our General, that a braver man never fought in action, but at the same time the man who carried that red flag deserved some honourable distinction. Perhaps he got it; probably he did not.

After moving some two or three miles, our further way was blocked by mauser-fire from a very ominous, black-looking kopje which stretched down into the valley from the high ground on our left. The guns came into action against this hill at a range of about two thousand yards, and it seemed as if a golden-crested wren could not have escaped if it had been unlucky enough to be there. The shrapnel kept up an almost incessant hail, covering the wooded sides of the kopje with jets of round white balls of smoke, while every now and then the deeper note of the 4.7 was followed by a huge cloud of dust and yellowish vapour thrown up, and off, by the explosion of the lyddite in the huge projectile. How many Boers held that hill will probably never be known; only four were found. But a strange spectacle ensued. Emerging from the cover on the far side, rode, ventre-a-terre, a solitary horseman. Immediately two companies extended in our front opened fire on him. How he escaped was a marvel, for in front, behind, on every side of him could be seen 'the bullets kicking dust-spots on the green.' But escape he did, and many a 'Good luck to you' went after him, for he was a bold man to have stayed as long as he had, and fully deserved to escape. Our bombardment had effected one useful purpose. Amongst the killed was a Commandant called Theron, a brave, enterprising young fellow of about twenty-five years of age, whose exploits had already stamped him as a born leader of men. Our own casualties amounted to four yeomen wounded.

We camped a little further on, and buried our enemy, and one of our own men who had died from his wounds, side by side, with all due honour, ceremony, and respect.



September 6th was an unpleasant day. In the first place we made a very early start, which, after the two previous nights' work, was rather hard on the troops. Several had been without sleep for two nights, and engaged with the enemy all day. As far as fighting went this long-range scrapping was not of course worthy of the name, but as far as discomfort and fatigue were concerned, the operations were entitled to the most dignified and resonant title in the vocabulary. The 6th was an example. In the first place there was no fighting; in the second place, there was very little marching; in the third place, there was no rest; in the fourth place, there was no food. In the absence of definite orders the commanding officers delayed for a long time ere venturing to outspan and cook: when they did do so orders immediately arrived, scattering companies right, left, and centre, on the burning and capturing expeditions. Finally, when orders were published, they were for another night march, the object and destination of which were concealed even from officers commanding regiments. However, there was nothing for it but to make the best of an unpleasant state of affairs, to snatch a few mouthfuls of food whenever possible and a few minutes' sleep at any opportunity and once more the long column wound its way through the night. It arrived on the morning of the 7th at Wolverdiend station, where there was now a considerable garrison, among them 140 of our own men, who had been there since the De Wet trek. The day was passed in shifting camp and fatigue work in the station, where there was much to do in the way of loading and unloading trains.

Captain Romer got three days' leave here to meet his father, the famous judge, who had come out as President of the Royal Commission.

At 9 p.m. the column started on another night march, the battalion supplying the rearguard. It was weary work waiting on those occasions. Tents were struck, and coats, blankets, &c., packed on the waggons an hour before the advance-guard was due to march off, after which there was nothing to do but lie down on the ground in the bitter cold, and wait till all the transport had got away. Nor did the advance-guard have very much the best of it, as they of course arrived hours before the waggons, and had their shivering turn in the early morning, at the other end of the march.

By 10 a.m. the column arrived at Klerkskraal, a small and very widely scattered village on the banks of the beautiful Mooi River, a stream of the clearest and most delicious water. Companies were sent to clear out the neighbouring farms as usual, and a good deal of information was gathered about a considerable quantity of the enemy, who had been trekking through for some time past in small groups.

A dozen fine Indian tents, the gift of Rai Bahadur Boota Singh, of Rawal Pindi, were handed over to us here for the use of the officers. Very welcome they proved, as our old ones were nearly worn out.

Sunday, September 9th, 1900, was a day that will live long in the annals of the battalion. It was given out that in view of the hard work done by the troops, the day would be treated as a day of rest, almost immediately following which order came another, detailing two companies of each corps to go out on the unpleasant foraging duties. The roster declared that 'G' and 'H' companies were next in succession, and these two companies started immediately, officers and men snatching a hasty and very scratch breakfast before starting. They were out all day, from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m., during which time they were gathering in supplies of straw, fodder, &c., together with all carts, waggons, and harness in a serviceable condition, burning such as they could not carry away with them. At about 5 p.m. a heliograph message recalled them to camp, in reaching which they had to cross a small stream with a snipe-marsh on either side: the waggons of course stuck, but the men set to with a will, impelled doubtless by a keen desire to get back to their dinners in camp, and dragged them out one by one with ropes. A dismal surprise was in store for them. For even as they came in sight of the camp, it was struck, and in place of the dinners they had so fondly anticipated, some tea alone awaited them. The officers were even worse off, for as the mess president had been employed with the two companies out foraging, no one else had thought of keeping even a cup of tea for them, and, exhausted as they were by ten hours' work without food, under a burning sun, they received the pleasing intelligence that the column was starting at once to march to Pochefstroom, a distance variously estimated at from thirty-five to thirty-eight miles.



The force marched in three parts. First, mounted men, guns, and 'A' and 'E' companies Royal Dublin Fusiliers in waggons. Then the main body of infantry, and lastly the transport with 'G' and 'H' companies Royal Dublin Fusiliers as rearguard. There was a moon for most of the way, but it only served to make the surroundings more weird. Parallel to our right ran a low range of hills, whilst on the left was the Mooi River, with a farm looming up out of the night every mile or so along the way. There was one halt of half an hour towards midnight, but the remainder of the halts were merely of the usual five minutes' duration. And hard it was to resume the weary way at the end of even those brief spells of rest. Every one was so fit that the actual marching was nothing like so trying as the difficulty of keeping awake through the long, dreary hours, and one would time after time drop asleep as one walked mechanically along, only to wake in the very act of falling. Frederickstadt was reached in the small hours of the morning, and the stream crossed to its left bank. There was then a halt of about an hour to close up the transport, and very welcome it was, for we were still an ordinary day's march from our destination. Turning to our right, we brought the Gatsrands on our left, and the word went forth that the Boers were in them, a report which seemed to be confirmed a moment later as a blaze of light suddenly appeared above their summits. 'There they are!' 'That's their signal lamp!' were the comments that greeted the glory of the morning star, whether Jupiter or Venus, on that as on many a previous and subsequent occasion. On straggled the column, many of the men completely worn out, having been reluctantly compelled to avail themselves of the permission to ride on the waggons; the remainder, with grim determination to march till they dropped, trudging patiently and silently on. At last came the welcome flush of dawn; no 'envious streaks' these, but the first message from the longed-for day which ended that abominable night. When Pochefstroom finally came in sight it was still a good five miles off, and those last five miles were as bad as any part of the march. For though in some mysterious way the coming of day had dispelled to a great extent the deadly sleepiness from which most of us suffered, our aching limbs now began to make themselves manifest, and those far-off trees never seemed to get any nearer. However, by ten o'clock the last man was in, but very nearly done. It had been a remarkable march—very remarkable seeing the conditions under which some of the troops performed it.[12] For to do from thirty-five to thirty-eight miles, most of it by night, on an empty stomach, after a hard ten hours' work under a hot sun, in sixteen hours, is a performance of which any troops may be justly proud.

[Footnote 12: That minor operations such as these should receive but scant recognition at the hands of historians is not to be wondered at, but neither the official nor the Times histories in their accounts of this surprise of Pochefstroom found space to mention the length of this march, an omission which is very greatly to be wondered at.]

Nor was it altogether without result, for our mounted and waggon-carried troops had arrived much earlier, and, fairly taking the place by surprise, had surrounded it, killed seven, and captured some seventy or eighty prisoners, and put a good many more to ignominious and hasty flight.

We also obtained some draught beer. Beer! None of us had tasted it for months. How it went down! Yet our memory of it is sad, for the unfortunate manager of the brewery was afterwards shot by the Boers for selling it to us. The column remained at Pochefstroom till the 12th, our stay being darkened by the melancholy death of the signalling officer, Lieutenant Maddox, of the Somersetshire Light Infantry, who was shot through the heart while going round his stations.



On the 12th Colonel Hicks took command of a small force[13] which moved out to occupy some kopjes overlooking two drifts over the Mooi River. Starting at about 3 p.m., we did not reach our destination (some five miles south of Frederickstadt) till dark. Somewhat to our surprise, the hills were unoccupied, as Boers were known to be in the vicinity, while there had been a certain amount of distant sniping throughout the march. Putting piquets at the drifts, the infantry and guns occupied one hill, and the mounted troops another hard by. We had just turned in for the night when a sharp rifle-fire broke out all along the front, to which our sentries were not slow to respond. We immediately occupied the posts to which we had been assigned, but the firing soon died away. No one was hit by the enemy, but an unfortunate trooper in Marshall's Horse was shot by a comrade, and later on succumbed to the wound.

[Footnote 13: Royal Dublin Fusiliers, 100 cavalry, two guns.]



At daybreak on the 13th, we located a Boer laager some five miles out on the plain. One of our officers had a deer-stalking telescope, with which it was possible to follow the movements of the Boers as they woke up, a most interesting spectacle. They were of course far out of range of our fifteen-pounders, but just as we were regretting our inability to get at them, General Hart's force from Pochefstroom could be seen trekking slowly in their direction from our left front. We, from our elevated position, could see what the Boers could not, and to watch our comrades creeping slowly nearer, while the Boers were loitering about and stretching themselves, was a sight the opportunity to view which was seldom afforded in the course of the war. But long before the General got close enough to do any harm, the alarm went. Any one who has ever seen a pebble cast into an ants' nest can realise the proceedings of the next two minutes. Darting about in every direction, the Boers caught their horses and inspanned their transport with a celerity which fairly took our breath away, and in what seemed an incredibly short space of time they were trekking away across our right front, their movements still more hastened by a few rounds from the naval guns. Moreover, they came within very long range of our fifteen-pounders, so we were enabled to return them a 'quid' for their 'quo' of the previous night, with probably about the same result to their skins, though one riderless horse could be seen careering about.

A helio message from the General instructed us to march off and join him at Frederickstadt, where we arrived that afternoon, spending the morning in the usual domiciliary visits, getting a really handsome waggon for the mess, and carefully searching a farmhouse belonging to the Bezuidenhouts.

On the 14th there was a considerable amount of firing in the neighbourhood, but nobody seemed to take much interest in it. As, however, it resulted in the loss of twelve mules and some waggons, and one gunner wounded, it is hoped that we did some damage in return.

On the 15th Colonel Hicks again took out a small force of all arms,[14] for the purpose of getting in more stores, of burning Bezuidenhout's farm (it being now clear he had murdered two telegraphists), and to hold the kopjes we were on the 13th, while the Somersetshire Light Infantry marched to join us from Pochefstroom. The country was now thoroughly infested with Boers, who made some slight effort to oppose Colonel Hicks. He very soon brushed them aside, however, and, marching his force along two parallel ranges of low hills, arrived at the place where we had bivouacked on the night of the 12th-13th. Dinners were cooked on arrival before the companies went out marauding. Whilst they were being prepared a cartridge went off in one of the fires, and severely wounded one of the cooks, the bullet penetrating his chest. This poor fellow was later on sent into hospital at Krugersdorp, and, as the wound never improved, was eventually invalided home. But the line was blown up just in front of his train, and he was brought back to hospital. He soon began to recover, and one day went wandering about without his hat, got sunstroke, and died, one piece of bad luck on the top of another, and a melancholy example of how 'when sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.'

[Footnote 14: Royal Dublin Fusiliers, two guns, twenty-five Yeomanry.]

A convoy under Captain H. W. Higginson, arrived at Frederickstadt at this time, after having been considerably pestered by some Boers who had shelled him with a nine-pounder Krupp, and severely wounded one of our men. Luckily, the General had sent out a small force with two guns to meet this convoy, or it might have had a very much worse time.

Next day Bezuidenhout's farm was duly burnt, and at 3 p.m. the force started to march back to Frederickstadt, the Somersetshire Light Infantry (wing) under Major Williams, with eighty prisoners, a large number of refugees and waggons, starting an hour earlier, having of course further to go. The march was not interfered with, and the force reached its old quarters once more before dark.

The dreary monotony of these days and nights of trekking and foraging suffered a variation on the 17th. In the morning 'A' company, under Major Rutherford, took over the eighty odd prisoners from Pochefstroom, and marched off with them to Wolverdiend. In the afternoon a shell suddenly burst in the middle of the camp. The cheek of these foes of ours. The first arrival was shortly followed by several more in quick succession, some of which landed in camp, and some of which went over our heads. We turned out, lowered the tents, and then lay down in extended order, trying to locate the position of the hostile gun. At last some one saw the flash, after which our naval gun and fifteen-pounders picked up the range with admirable celerity, immediately silencing the opposition. At a range of 3600 yards, the second shot from the naval gun had burst within four feet of the marks of the Krupp nine-pounder which had been shelling us.

At the time the enemy opened fire a regimental court-martial for the trial of twenty-one prisoners had just assembled, under the presidency of Captain Shewan. On the arrival of the shells, the court, escort, witnesses and prisoners dissolved themselves with one accord, and were not afterwards reassembled.

'In such a time as this it is not meet That every nice offence should bear his comment.'

Julius Caesar.

The sun was in the enemy's eyes, and the village of Frederickstadt almost immediately behind our camp, which may account in some measure for the indifference of their fire, as we must have offered a magnificent target to them. As it was, our only losses were four horses, not a man being hit. But we were fairly caught napping.