A West Pointer with the Boers /

by John Y. Fillmore Blake

I always swore that I would never be captured alive, and told the boys so. I also told them that I was going to make a run for the road that leads through the pass, and asked them what they wished to do. They said they would make the run with me. We started at once in single file along a path that wound its way through the bush. This led us to the left and front of the English. Every man had his eye pinned on the English, and a dead silence reigned. I was terribly worried and frightened too, for I fully expected to see the English move at every moment and interpose themselves between us and the road. On we rode until we were right in front of them and about 2000 yards distant. I felt a little better, for the English had not yet moved. I was constantly watching the hills on my left, in the hope that I might see a chance of climbing them. Fortune favored me, for I discovered a good path running up the hills, and I concluded that, as it was an emergency, we could go where the goats had gone, and so turned to the left on to this tiny little path. It was a hard climb, but we reached safe ground on top just as the British made up their minds to take us in. They were too late, as usual, and only advanced a small distance, when they turned about and went back. It was a very cold day, but the terrible strain the men and I had passed through, warmed all of us into a heavy perspiration. It was General Hutton who kindly allowed us to escape. He said in his report that he thought we had some English prisoners with us, and therefore did not dare to fire on us. The Chicago and Massachusetts boys had on khaki uniforms, and that is why Hutton was deceived. His excuse was a poor one, just the same, for he could easily have blocked our way without firing a shot, and besides any ordinary field glass at his distance would have shown him that every man carried a rifle. We owed our escape entirely to British stupidity.

As no Boers could be seen from the hills, we made up our minds that we were very far behind everybody. As it was now nearly sundown, we started out to put a few miles between us and the British. We had not gone far when we found ourselves in the camp lately occupied by the Heidelburg Commando. Here we found coffee, sugar, bread and meat, and as we had had nothing to eat all day, we stopped and had a good feast. Then our poor, tired horses enjoyed their feast too, and it gave me more pleasure to see them at their mealies than to eat myself.

It was dark before we saddled up and started on our way in search of the Boers. Finally we reached the main road and near by was a stack of oats at a farm house. I told the boys to help themselves, and every man piled on his horse all the oats he could well manage. We then went on our way until we reached a little farm in the open flat that I knew was about nine miles from Brandfort, so here we concluded to camp for the night. It was about ten o'clock when a courier rode into camp looking for me. He pointed out the direction of General de la Rey's camp and told me that the General wished to see me early in the morning. I was anxious to see the General too, for I did not like the idea of being alone in front of Lord Robert's army. Early on the following morning I took two men and started in search of General de la Rey. My directions carried me obliquely towards Brandfort and I concluded that the General must have camped very near the English. We had gone about a mile when I saw seven men dressed as the Boers usually are, riding alongside a hill between us and Brandfort. The two Africander scouts with me declared they were Boers, and I declared they were English in Boer clothes. The way they held their legs and their position in the saddle had formed my opinion. An Englishman on a horse always reminds me of a wooden clothespin. We decided to go ahead, for our direction would not lead us into trouble, yet I did a lot of thinking about those seven men, for there was a very deep kloof near them, and the whole English army could be easily concealed in it. We had gone about another mile when we came upon one of General de la Rey's men on the look out. I knew him and asked him if he had seen the seven men. He said no, and then pointed out to me just where General de la Rey was encamped. I galloped all the way, because I thought there was danger in that kloof. I was so certain that I told Commandant Trichardt, of the artillery, that the English were near at hand, and that he would do well to inspan and prepare for business.

GENERAL DE LA REY. WHO NEVER LOST A BATTLE

I did not get to see General de la Rey because he had gone to see his brother who had been seriously wounded the previous day. I must say that before reaching General de la Rey's camp I sent one of the men with me, Hendrik Slegkamp, after giving him my wire-cutters, back to the Irish camp with instructions to saddle up as quickly as possible and fall back to some kopjes about two miles in the rear. All the farms in that country are entirely surrounded by wire fences and one can't get through without wire-cutters. The last I saw of Hendrik, he was going at a full gallop. After chatting with Colonel Trichardt for about fifteen minutes, he ordered all mules and horses to be spanned in and saddled up, and then we started back towards my own camp. Knowing the exact direction, we took a short cut and, having reached the top of a ridge about one mile from General de la Rey's camp and about two miles from my own, we were fired upon from a mealie field. Across the flat I saw the Irish boys under fire and flying to the kopjes in the rear. We could not get through the wire fences because I had let Hendrik have my cutters, and the English at long range were making it very warm for us. There was a little cottage about 400 yards away, and we put spurs to our horses and reached it as quickly as possible. A little Dutch woman showed us a sheep path which would lead us to the small gates that opened from one farm to the other. That was about the hottest path that we ever travelled, for the English had found our range and were making use of it. My boy's horse was slightly wounded; otherwise we were all right. I saw that the Irish were safe on the kopje, but we could not get to them on account of the wire fences. Just as General de la Rey's men had saddled up and all were ready to move, the English opened fire on him, but he managed to get his guns, wagons and everything out safely. The whole country seemed to be alive with English, and they all came out of that deep kloof where I had seen the seven men. I felt it in my very bones that the English were in that kloof, and acted accordingly. It was a lucky thing for all of us that I did.

During the evening I reached the Irish boys, and we crossed the Vet River and went into camp. Early next morning we met General de la Rey and his men, and there was general rejoicing. The general said he was going to give fight on the river, and put Roberts to a little trouble. With the Irish, he had about 2,500 men to fight Roberts and his 90,000.

The position was a good one, but of course the general knew that he could do no more than make the English do a lot of work, and possibly knock a few of them down before he had to retreat. Roberts finally showed up, and the deployment of that great body of men into fighting formation, with absolute mathematical precision, was really beautiful. I was so interested that I could scarcely take my eyes from such beautiful military figures. That awful man, that brave man, that gallant man, Major J.L. Pretorius, seemed to have no idea of the beautiful at all, for just before the military figure was completed in all its beauty, he fired a shell that fell right among them. That shell simply played the deuce and ruined a most artistic picture. Instead of order, precision and beauty, we now had to witness disorder and pandemonium generally, for the English soldiers broke away, some running one way and some another, not one seeming in the least inclined to take a chance on the next shell that might follow. It was marvellous what havoc one tiny shell could raise in a military-trained and thoroughly disciplined army. Major Pretorius was nothing but a youngster, but then there was nothing in the British army that was anywhere near his equal. For a change, and as the Irish boys were the latest arrivals, General de la Rey said he would hold us as reserves. Major Pretorius started the fight with that shell, and soon 30,000 English with cannon and shell were trying to lay low General de la Rey and 2,500 patriots. When the fighting became really hot and close, the reserve, the Irish boys, were sent for and told to come as quickly as possible to the road crossing the river. We went, but to go into the firing line we had to pass through the belt especially shelled by the English guns. The boys did not murmur; they went out. Strange to say, not one of them received a bullet. Now, they had a close range, and didn't they send the bullets to the right place? I think they did, and I know they did. There were a lot of British to our right and front in a kopje about 1,000 yards distant. I think they were Irish, for the English turned their maxims on them, killed many of them and kept them from firing on us. We did not fire on them because the English were doing the work for us.

That was really a pretty fight in which the Boers did not suffer, and about sundown General de la Rey ordered us to fall back. The Irish boys kept firing away until it was fairly dark, and I became frightened for fear they might be captured. The Boers had all left, and had those fool Englishmen known anything, they might have given us a run for our lives. We remained in order to see out of danger a few young Boers who were in an arroya very close to the English. When we did finally go back, mount our horses and start towards Smaldeel, we ran into the very boys that we had assisted to get out of the arroya, and by a mere piece of luck they didn't fire on us. I was calling to the men to hurry up and my voice was recognized, otherwise we would have received a volley. I had a very excellent pair of field glasses given to me by a Russian Count and I made good use of them when the English were arriving to engage us. In Natal, the Transvaal and the Free State, from the day the war first began, I had tried to convince the Boers of the great importance of destroying the enemy's line of communication. I never succeeded in making any headway, however, for they could not be made to believe in the destruction of property. Here at Vet River I handed General de la Rey my glasses and told him to witness the trains on the opposite ridge from which thousands of infantry were tumbling to give us battle. The general realized now for the first time the strength of my argument, and was thereafter bent on destroying the railway lines. He succeeded in partially convincing General Louis Botha that the destruction of the lines was of the first importance. Volunteers for the purpose were called for, and it was the Irish Brigade that promptly responded. In fact, I believe that the men of the Irish Brigade were the only ones that did, and I believe that they were the only ones among the Boers that understood the business. It having been decided by the Council of War that the bridges and railway lines were to be destroyed, I selected the men that I knew would do the work well. There were little Mike Halley, the ever to be remembered Joe Wade, Jim O'Keefe, Dick Barry, Tom Herlihy, Tom Tierney, and several others whom I selected for this most important work.

In blowing up the long and high bridge at Sand River, the Irish boys were exposed both to cannon and rifle fire, but not one flinched and their work was well done. It was while some Anglo-American engineers were trying to repair this bridge, that Majors Seymour and Clements, (both Americans) were killed by General De Wet and his men. I am sure that neither I nor the Irish boys would have shed a tear had the whole lot been killed. All were mercenaries in the strict sense of the word, and this class of men are not fit to live in any country.