This showed that when at last we set to work we did so with a will. The forces in South Africa before the war had amounted to 25,000, which number was augmented by 55,000 on the arrival of the First Army Corps. Late in December came the Fifth Division of about 11,000, under Sir Charles Warren, followed by the Sixth Division of 10,000 men. The Seventh and Eighth Divisions of 10,000 men respectively were shortly to increase the forces at the disposal of Lord Roberts, together with some 2000 additional Cavalry, 10,000 Yeomanry, 9000 Volunteers, seven battalions of Militia, drafts for regiments at the front amounting to 10,000, and about 20,000 local forces. The first Colonial contingents consisted of about 2500 men, and these were to be followed by second contingents of like strength. The Naval Brigade was composed of about 1000; so that in all, roughly estimated, we were on the eve of putting 184,000 men into the field.
Christmas day at the Cape was solemnised with much speechifying, both from Dutch pulpits and Dutch partisans, and not a few peacefully disposed persons in this time of general goodwill lugged in Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman by the ears and quoted him to suit their purpose. That amiable worthy had said the war could have been avoided, and that cheap and incontrovertible statement the Bond got hold of and chewed and rolled on the tongue as an accompaniment to its plum-pudding and mince-pies. Of course, the war could have been avoided. Of course, it would have been quite possible to voluntarily retire from the Cape and allow South Africa to become entirely Dutch. In the same way we could give up governing India and hand it over to Russia and confine our expenses and our energies to Great Britain, the water supply, the development of national cookery, and the propagation of cabbages. But peace with dishonour was fortunately not to the taste of the British public, and those who spent their Yuletide in active service were far too devoted to the sacred duty of maintaining the prestige of the Empire to sigh for the domestic hearth and regal sirloin that might have been theirs had the Government extended its accommodating apathy a few months longer.
There were no holly decorations and displays of bunting, no rubbings of hands and vigorous snow-balling, because the South African sun blazed with the glare of beaten brass, and the thermometer stood to the height of some 100 degrees at midday. But there was a vast amount of joke-making and hearty goodwill nevertheless, and many prayers for friends and family and Queen.
In Natal there were lively doings in honour of the festal season. At a time when even cracker manufacturers wax poetic, the journalistic poets thought it their duty to burst into rhyme. The Natal papers indulged in some jocose doggerel, which would have been comic had it not been deeply tragic. The lines ran thus: “To Ladysmith”—the only lines, by-the-bye, that did run there—
“‘Hold the Fort, for I am coming,’
Says the helio—
Quick as light the answer flashes,
‘Ain’t you coming slow?’”
But Tommy was pleased and thought the stanza a capital joke. He meant to get there directly, and merely quoted the proverb about “slow and shure”—there were so many Irishmen about, fine fellows, who believed in themselves and they were shure about everything. They had nothing to do with doubt, for doubt, after all, is the mother of diffidence!
And some of these rollicking youngsters managed to retain their native good-humour in most distressing circumstances. A good story was told of one gallant private in hospital who had lost his leg but persisted in apostrophising the missing limb whenever it ached. “Be aisy wid ye. Can’t ye be quiet? Ye’ll niver take me into the foight again. Ohovo!”
Other examples of amazing good-temper and pluck on the part of the wounded filled all eye-witnesses with pathetic admiration. One man, a quondam music-hall singer, carried his jocose art into his sick-bed. A Boer prisoner had lost his arms, and the poor fellow helplessly shook his head when offered tobacco. But the music-hall singer saw the shake of the head and tearful eye that accompanied it. In a moment, with gymnastic dexterity, he had placed his arms round the Boer and performed the office of the missing ones, giving the fellow the advantage of a good smoke. Another of our men who had lost his right arm co-operated with a Boer who had lost his left, and between them they rolled cigarettes to the great satisfaction of both. While they were in hospital another sufferer pretended to be in no way depressed by the loss of his arm, and ventured on mild whimsicalities regarding the economy of being able to share a single pair of gloves with any right-handed man who might also have lost a limb!
