Field-Cornet Lyon and Zacharias de Jager in particular were of great assistance to the Commandant; and one constantly heard, "Come along, burghers! come along! forward!" At half-past three we reached the reef of rocks and boulders, and presently I heard that two burghers had already been wounded, while another lay motionless, but it was as yet too dark to see who it was. It soon transpired that it was Assistant Field-Cornet Jan van Wijk.
Before long it became light, and some of the burghers charged the forts that were just above the ledge of rocks. They overpowered the soldiers there, and took them prisoners, but were forced to fall back to the escarpment of rocks immediately, on account of the heavy fire directed on them from the other forts. And now the roar of the cannons and rifles became terrific. This was especially the case with the ceaseless rattle of small arms. One could with difficulty distinguish separate reports. All sounded together like one continuous roar, and awoke an echo from the Neutral Hill that sounded like the surging of a mighty wind.
We found ourselves under a cross cannon-fire. The shells from one of our guns flew over our heads and exploded just in front of us on the forts, so that we were often in fear of being struck by our own shells; and the projectiles of the English were hurled in an opposite direction on our cannon-forts and on the burghers on Neutral Hill.
Gradually we began to see in what a terrible position we were. We found that we were a mere handful. Of all the Free Staters who had been ordered to scale the hill there, only about 100 Harrismith men, 50 Heilbroners, and a few of the Kroonstad Commando, had obeyed the order. The arrangement had not been carried out. As we learned afterwards, the Winburgers had remained behind in a ridge at the foot of the hill, and the rest were all crowded behind Neutral Hill, while most of the Kroonstad burghers had not even got as far as that.
Of course we did not fully know then how matters stood, and expected that reinforcements would come later on, which was impossible while daylight lasted, for every approach to our position was exposed to a terrible fire from above. It set us, however, somewhat at ease to know that there were burghers behind the Neutral Hill. They guarded our rear and left flank, and would beat back reinforcements attacking us there.
How terrible the firing was! It never ceased for a moment, for if the burghers did not rush out, from time to time, to assail the forts, the English charged us. This alternate charging of each other was taking place every now and then, and it was during these attacks that the pick of our men fell. Whenever a sangar was attacked a destructive fire was directed on our men, and then some gallant fellows would always remain behind struck down. In this manner Field-Cornet Celliers of Heilbron, and of the Harrismith Commando: Kootze Odendaal, Marthinus Potgieter, Gert Wessels, Zacharias de Jager, Jacob de Villiers, and Piet Minny, were killed; and Hermanus Wessels and others mortally wounded. They were mostly hit in the head, for the English as well as the Boers were on the watch, and whenever anyone put out his head from behind a stone or a fort, he was immediately fired at.
It was a fearful day—a day that no one who was there will ever forget. The heat too was unbearable. The sun shot down his pitiless rays upon us, and the higher he rose the hotter it became. It was terrible to see the dead lying uncovered in the scorching rays; and our poor wounded suffered indescribable tortures from thirst.
How glad I was that I could do something for the wounded. I bandaged those within reach. I also rendered the first help to the British wounded; one Tommy said to me, after I had bandaged him: "I feel easier now." And a sergeant of the Imperial Light Horse, who had discovered that I was a minister, remarked: "You are preaching a good sermon to-day."
How the wounded suffered from thirst! And there was nothing to give them—only a little whisky which I had got from an English officer who had been taken prisoner. I gave a little of that, only a few drops, to every wounded man. Not only the wounded—all of us, suffered from thirst. Long before midday there was not a drop of water left in our flasks. So intolerable was the thirst, that there were burghers who went down to the dongas below in search of water, where there was none, and where they knew that almost certain death awaited them.
How slowly too the time dragged! "What o'clock is it?" someone asked. It was then only ten o'clock, and it seemed as if we had been fighting more than a day, for up to that moment the firing had continued unabated; and the Neutral Hill still sent back to us the echo of the firing—the echo as of a mighty soughing.