The R.D.F. bathing in Mooi River, Potchefstroom.
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.