“Army Headquarters,
Kimberley, February 10, 1900.
“Sir,—Since the Diamond Fields Advertiser has now on two occasions printed leading articles on the military situation which are extremely injurious to the interests of the army and the defence of this town, without previously submitting the same to the military censor, I am directed to inform you that from this date the proof of the Diamond Fields Advertiser must be submitted to me before the copies of any daily number, leaflet, or other form of publication is issued to the public.
“I am further requested to inform you, in your own interests, that on the two occasions referred to you have committed the most serious offences dealt with by the Army Act, under which Act you are liable to be tried.—Yours faithfully, W. A. O’Meara, Major, Military Censor.”
The military censor was within his rights. The editor, after the manner of editors, did not care to be muzzled, so the Diamond Fields Advertiser was temporarily suspended.
The editorial chair at the time was not an enviable berth, owing to the invasion of shells from the 100-pounder gun, therefore the holiday may have been beneficial in more ways than one.
The new gun, mounted on the kopje at Kamferdam, was determined to make life hideous, and so incessantly swept the neighbourhood that a state of panic began to prevail even among those who had hitherto borne themselves with unconcerned front. In addition to this perpetual tornado of horror the pinch of famine was becoming sharper, and the question of relief seemed to be growing into one of “now or never.” Despair seized on many. They began to count the days, and wonder when it would all end, and whether indeed it would ever end at all! Two days—three days—five days—the 15th of February! Then, dramatically, as in a fairy tale or a stage play, came the rumour of help, the whisper that French, the gallant, the energetic, the invincible, was coming, as on the wings of the wind—coming to restore freedom to those who, in their tedious imprisonment, were fainting with hope deferred. In an instant all was changed. The rumour became reality. Colonel Kekewich and his staff rode forth, and it was as though the good fairy had waved a wand. In an instant the dismal streets seemed to grow gaudy with flags, to flutter and flare as with the hues of the butterfly. Panic ceased, and gave way to almost hysterical joy. People laughed, chaffed, threw up their hats. The mines disgorged their human wealth—some thousand of women and children, who came forth alacrious, with swinging step and loudly babbling—babbling like mountain torrents let loose from the ice of winter! It was a scene for painter, not for penman; for who shall describe wrinkles of anxiety swept suddenly away, pangs of hunger allayed by thrills of glad excitation, nervous exhaustion magically forgotten, and all this simply because there was dust in the distance—the dust of coming feet—the dust of the British cavalry sweeping nearer and nearer on a glorious errand of deliverance!
Five minutes later the looked-for moment had arrived. Anticipation had given way to fact—the 124 days’ siege was at an end. Yet there were some who could scarce believe their ears. A man, hearing that General French had arrived, approached a trooper who was holding a horse outside the Club, and asked if the good news was true. “Yes,” was the reply; “I’m ’is horderly; this is ’is ’at, and over there is ’is ’orse!” And the Kimberley man stared at the three objects before him as though he could never take his fill of satisfaction.
GENERAL FRENCH’S RIDE
And now, as the conjuror says, to explain how it was all done. The object of the combined movements was to turn Cronje’s position, which extended west and east from Majersfontein to Koodoesberg Drift on the one side towards Klip Drift on the Modder on the other, to relieve Kimberley, and, if possible, cut off the retreat of the Boers to Bloemfontein and invest the whole force. This stupendous programme was unfolded to General French and his A.A.G. Colonel Douglas Haig at the time already mentioned, when the great cavalry leader mysteriously ran down from Colesberg to the Cape. Here the plans for the future campaign were discussed, and here General French agreed to embark on an enterprise which had it failed in a single particular might have brought about “such a disaster as would have shaken England’s dominion in South Africa to its very foundation.” This is the opinion of Captain Cecil Boyle, a splendid young officer, who, when asked to join General French’s staff as galloper, was almost overcome with joy. But the plan did not fail: indeed it succeeded beyond expectation, and the relief of Kimberley, accomplished solely by the mounted troops—said to be the largest force ever commanded by a British General—was a feat scarcely to be excelled in the annals of warfare. This feat was performed between the 11th and the 15th of February, during which the Division experienced hardships of every kind. Horses and men were worked incessantly, without a day’s rest and in a broiling sun, which literally baked every portion of the human frame exposed to it, and grilled the eyeballs, causing the most acute suffering to man and beast. Supplies and forage ran short, and the horses were reduced to 1½ lb. of corn a day, while the men lived finally from hand to mouth, killing and eating as they went along, now a sheep, now a goat, and presently nothing but boiled mealie cobs. Water was so scarce, and the sufferings of the animals so terrible, that when a stream was once encountered, the brutes, wild with an anguish of delight, tore towards it in their frantic career, becoming absolutely beyond control, and carrying their riders straight into the river. Some in this way were drowned. Many horses died of exhaustion. At the end, out of 8000, only 5400 remained. But all discomforts were forgotten in the success of the achievement, which from first to last was conducted with admirable finesse and consummate dash. Indeed this marvellous ride is looked upon by those who could technically criticise the difficulty and daring of the enterprise as one of the finest achievements of British arms.
On the 11th of February the great cavalry division under General French started. With marvellous rapidity, and with a vast amount of mystery, the troops had gathered together in the neighbourhood of Enslin or Graspan, and commenced to move south-east on the now celebrated march for the relief of Kimberley. So swiftly was everything planned, and so dexterously was it accomplished, that even the wary Cronje, whose spies were everywhere, was incapable of believing that the detested rooineks were advancing with the rapidity of a cyclone for the purpose of sweeping him and his burghers from their comfortable positions. But a clean sweep they made nevertheless. Before the British advance Dutchmen fled precipitately from their farms, leaving their sweet mealie pap in statu quo, and all their effects exactly as they had been using them.
They carried to Cronje wild rumours of British multitudes approaching, and preparing to make a last frontal attack upon Majersfontein, rumours which exactly suited Lord Roberts’ strategic plan. Cronje instantly primed himself for the reception of the British, strengthening his fortifications and keeping his eye on the west, where he knew the Highland Brigade was operating. This again was precisely what Lord Roberts had intended him to do.
Meanwhile, in the light of the stars, the great cavalry division with its batteries of artillery was on the move, rumbling cautiously through the mysterious, Boer-haunted regions under the guidance of the Hon. Major Lawrence, Chief of the Intelligence Department, and travelling many miles before sunrise on its important journey to Ramdam. Here horses were watered, men rested, details and remounts from Orange River picked up. On the morning of Monday the 12th, the troops were again on the move, starting at 3 A.M., and endeavouring to cover as many miles as possible before the sun should rise and make the whole earth into a scorching, blistering wilderness. But now, in return for the cool night air, they had to contend with jetty obscurity. Very slow, therefore, was their progress. When helped by the dawn they got along faster, and soon the whole division reached Waterval. Here extra precautions were taken, for none knew how many Dutchmen might be ensconced in the surrounding kopjes or whether the drift might be swarming with Boers. But they were not long left in doubt. A Boer shell greeted the troops with such nicety of range that the General and his staff barely escaped. Colonel Eustace, R.H.A., immediately turned his attention to the hostile gun, and shortly silenced it, but the enemy still held on.