So greatly have ideas expanded upon this subject that at one of the hotels an underground dining-room is in course of construction. This is at Riesle's, whose proprietor, at last, has been induced to build his boarders—mostly war correspondents—a dug-out, since he had given places of shelter to the servants, to his native boys, and to his family, seemingly thinking that since the boarders kept the hotel going they could very easily shift for themselves. But then that is always the creed of the publican. These dug-outs are large excavations some ten by fourteen feet and seven feet deep, upon which there is placed a layer of iron rails which are procured from the railway yard; over these there is usually a layer of thick wooden sleepers, which again are covered over with sheets of corrugated iron. The earth from the hole is then piled up on this, and, after the dug-out has been inspected by the Town Commandant it is considered safe for habitation; a few cases and chairs equip it with certain accommodation, although there are a few into which trestle beds have been placed. It is not very healthy passing days and nights in these inverted earthworks, but it is eminently safe, and has been the sole means afforded us for escaping the enemy's fire. Fortunately the Boers have made no attempt to advance upon the town under cover of their guns, for if they did so we should have to stand-to-arms and face the music of the flying splinters. Every post has been supplied with one of these underground retreats, and quite the larger proportion of the townspeople have constructed private shelters for themselves.
CHAPTER XXIV
SOME SNIPING AND AN EXECUTION
Mafeking, January 31st, 1900.
In itself the situation has not developed over much, but in relation to the siege there are two tragedies to chronicle. The Boers are still investing us, in more or less the same numbers, and with but little difference in the strength of their artillery. Sometimes we miss an individual piece, judging from its absence that it has been sent north to reinforce the Dutch who are endeavouring to circumvent the movements of Colonel Plumer's column. However, these periodical journeys of the five-pounder Krupp, the one-pounder Maxim, or the nine-pounder quick-firing Creusot do not last for any great time, and, as a matter of fact, Commandant Snyman has not permitted himself to be deprived of any one piece of artillery for much longer than a week. The garrison here, jumping at conclusions in the absence of any definite news, finds in these disappearances some slight consolation, since we at once affirm that Colonel Plumer must have arrived at some point in which the presence of the enemy's artillery is urgent and necessary.
| Mr. J. E. Neilly Pall Mall Gazette | Mr. Vere Stent Reuter's | Major Baillie Morning Post | Mr. J. Angus Hamilton Times, & Black and White |
WAR CORRESPONDENTS AND THEIR BOMB-PROOF SHELTERS.
The gun which we would very gladly spare is the one hundred-pounder Creusot, whose occasional removal from one emplacement to another is a source of much anxiety to every one in the garrison. In the beginning of the siege—a date which is now very remote—"Big Ben" hurled its shells into this unfortunate town from an emplacement at Jackal Tree. In those days it was almost four miles distant, and we took but little notice of a gun which flung its projectiles from such a distant range. Those were the days in which we dug holes by night, and speculated rather feebly during the day upon the resisting power of the protection which we had thus thrown up. But the gun moved then to the south-eastern heights, a matter of barely 4,000 yards from the town, and of sufficient eminence to dominate every little corner. Those were the days in which we dug a little deeper and went round trying to borrow—from people who would not lend—any spare sacks, iron sleepers, or deals, so that our bomb-proofs might be still further strengthened. However, as time passed, we even got accustomed to the gun in its new position, and, much as ever, there were many who felt inclined to promenade during lapses in the enemy's shell fire. Now, however, this wretched gun has again been moved, and, according to those who know the country, is within two miles of the town—a little matter under 3,000 yards.
In accordance with the fresh position of the Creusot gun we have been compelled to extend our eastern defences in order that we may, at least, direct an artillery fire upon their advanced trenches. To the north-east and south-east we have put forward our guns and to the south-east have increased a detachment of sharpshooters, who, from a very early date in the siege, have occupied a position in the river-bed. These men are only two hundred yards from the sniping posts of the Boers, and through the cessation of hostilities upon Sundays, they have grown to recognise one another. Sunday has thus also brought to the snipers an opportunity of discovering what result their mutual fire has achieved during the week, and, when from time to time a figure is missing, either side recognise that to their marksmanship, at least, that much credit is due. Among the Boers who occupied the posts in the brickfields were many old men, one of whom, from his venerable mien, his bent and tottering figure, his long white beard, and his grey hair, was called grandfather. He had become so identified with these posts in the brickfields that upon Sundays our men would shout out to him, some calling him Uncle Paul, others grandfather, and when the old fellow heard these remarks he would turn and gaze at our trench in the river-bed, wondering possibly, as he stroked his beard, brushed his clusters of hair from his forehead, or wiped his brow, what manner of men those snipers were. He has been known to wave his hat when in a mood more than usually benign; then we would wave our hats and cheer, while he, once again perplexed, would, taking his pipe from his pocket, slowly retrace his steps to his trench. The old man was a remarkably good shot, and from his post has sent many bullets through the loopholes in our sandbags. He would go in the early morning to his fort and he would return at dusk, but in the going and coming he, alone of the men who were opposing us, was given a safe passage. One day, however, as the Red Cross flag came out from the fort, we, looking through our glasses, saw them lift the body of grandfather into the ambulance. That night there was a funeral, and upon the following day we learnt that he had been their best marksman. For ourselves, we were genuinely sorry.