With Rifle and Bayonet: A Story of the Boer War

by F. S. Brereton

The Grand Assault.

For almost three complete months had the Boers surrounded Ladysmith on every side, and shelled it persistently, and yet here were the British troops, seemingly as steadfast as during the early days of the siege.

But wounds and disease had slowly thinned their ranks, and against the 20,000 or more of the enemy there were scarcely 8000 to man a huge circle of trenches. What could they do against the odds opposed to them? It was almost an impossible feat that was expected of them, but for all that, each and every one of our sturdy lads, as he sat in the trenches that night, listening intently and vainly endeavouring to pierce the gloom, swore solemnly to himself that the task should be accomplished. For many weeks they had laughed at and kept a horde of Boers at bay, and now, when they were in a tight corner and in difficulties, they would teach the enemy that they yet had teeth to show, and good strength to use them.

And down beyond the flats stretching away from the heights of Caesar’s Camp, and in all the laagers surrounding the beleaguered garrison, bands of stern, resolute Boers collected together in absolute silence in the darkness. There was no need for words. Their plans had long since been arranged. They were the pick of all the forces from the Transvaal and the sister republic, and for the most part they had volunteered to attack and capture the camp, or die in the attempt. Rough, bearded men of middle age, they numbered amongst their ranks commandants, field-cornets, and officers of the Boer army. At a peremptory order from Pretoria, and because they could no longer put up with the humiliation of thus being laughed at by a handful of men, they had set themselves the dangerous task of a grand assault. It would be warfare after a method hateful to them one and all, for the comfortable shelter of a big boulder was more to their liking. But a desperate position called for stern measures, and, like the brave men they were, they prepared for the work, determined to do or die in the attempt. Collecting together in silence, they for the most part removed their boots, and just before the darkness lifted they set out across the grassy plain, and without so much as a sound commenced to scale the heights of Wagon Hill and Caesar’s Camp. Without firing a shot those at the western end of the heights clambered up till they were almost upon the trenches, when they were discovered by an outpost of the Manchesters, who gave the alarm. Instantly a hail of lead was poured into the night, and the guns opened fire, tearing the elopes and the flats below with bursting shrapnel.

But the darkness aided the Boers, and in a few moments they were upon our men.

They had got so far, but they were not to make another step forward, for by now the Gordon Highlanders and the Rifle Brigade had arrived, and, rushing forward with fixed bayonets, they dashed pell-mell at the enemy, and after a fierce and bloody conflict broke them, and hurled them shattered and bleeding down the steep hillside.

It was desperate work. As the night lifted, and the grey haze of dawn lay upon the grassy slopes of Caesar’s Camp, Briton and Boer stood face to face and fought for supremacy. Every man of ours had need of all his courage and strength, and not one failed to do his duty to his queen. Magnificently the brave fellows kept up the reputation of the army, and in spite of the havoc wrought by Mauser bullets, pressed the enemy still closer, and when they fled sent a taunting cheer after them, and stood ready and willing to meet them again.

Jack and Guy took a full share in the work. Deafened by the reports of the field-artillery and the incessant tat, tat of the rifles, they stood shoulder to shoulder in the trench, and when their comrades charged, rushed forward with them and helped to hurl back the Boers. But that was the least difficult part of the task. Some minutes before the much-needed reinforcements arrived they were closely pressed, and barely held their own. The Boers swarmed up the hill, and now that the alarm was given, opened a hot fire upon them. Then they rushed at them, and surrounded the small party of defenders.

Standing back to back, Jack and his friend, with Mr Hunter, beat off a determined assault, but a second which followed parted them, and the two young fellows found themselves alone and cut off from their friends, while Mr Hunter had been forced back amongst the Highlanders.

Side by side Jack and Guy thrust fiercely at the Boers, parrying the swinging blows aimed at them, and escaping the flying bullets by a miracle.