The Second Battalion Royal Dublin Fusiliers in the South African War / With a Description of the Operations in the Aden Hinterland

by Cecil Francis Romer; Arthur Edward Mainwaring

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.

Buffelsdoorn Camp, Gatsrand Hills.

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.