We must now watch the progress of the other portions of the force who were actively engaged in taking their share in the huge undertaking. Colonel Stephenson’s brigade, on the night of the 16th (while General French was learning the great news), had re-crossed the river at Klip Drift, and on the morning of the 17th (at the same hour as Broadwood’s brigade was moving from Kimberley) had marched to the south of the river with the same intention—that of heading off Cronje at Paardeberg and Koodoosrand Drift. Thus, with Broadwood’s brigade on one side, and Stephenson’s on the other, Cronje’s prospects of escape were scarcely worth a dime. The Times’ correspondent, talking of Colonel Stephenson’s troops on the morning of the fateful 17th, said:—
“They were joined about ten at Klipkraal Drift by Knox’s brigade, which marched along the northern bank. The mounted infantry, pushing on, reached Paardeberg Drift that evening, and encamped on rising ground close to the south bank. The infantry, leaving Klipkraal at six in the evening, made a night march for Paardeberg Drift, but, missing their way, slightly passed the Drift and bivouacked on some rising ground nearly two miles beyond, separated from the river by a smooth plain shelving gently down to it. The mistake was a fortunate one, as it brought the infantry almost opposite to the place where Cronje had determined to cross. Cronje had left Drieputs during the night after the battle, abandoning seventy-eight waggons, and pushed on along the north bank of the river during Saturday for Koodoosrand Drift. Soon after passing north of Paardeberg Drift he heard that French had already returned from Kimberley, and was holding a line of high kopjes running north-west from Koodoosrand Drift, and completely commanding the drift. Wheeling his waggons to the right across the plain, he laagered on the north bank of the river at Wolveskraal Farm. This was opposite to a drift of the same name, about half-way between Paardeberg and Koodoosrand Drifts, being about four miles in a straight line from each. Here he intended to cross on Sunday morning. But already, during the night, he became aware of the presence of the mounted infantry south of Paardeberg Drift, and decided that he could not get his convoy away without fighting. Probably Cronje did not realise that Kelly-Kenny’s infantry could have already marched up and occupied the rising ground not three thousand yards south of Wolveskraal Drift; still less could he know that General Colvile’s division (whose endurance had been extraordinary) was but a few miles behind, and was to reach Paardeberg Drift before daybreak. If Cronje had known this, there is little doubt that he would have promptly sacrificed all his transport and all his guns in order to get his men away and escape from the trap into which he was now caught. As it was, he sent a great part of his force to line the river-bed all the way down to Paardeberg Drift, in order to act as a rear-guard and check any attempt to interfere with his crossing Wolveskraal Drift at his leisure.”
Later on, the Ninth Division, with the Highland Brigade, who had made a forced march from Jacobsdal, arrived on the scene just in time to see the Boers sending up rockets to show their position to expected reinforcements. And there is little doubt that Cronje, unable to realise the expeditious advance of “lumbering Britons,” mistook General Colvile’s troops for the longed-for relief.
Among the missing from near Paardeberg were Lieutenants Romilly (Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry) and Metge (Welsh Regiment), and Captains Arnold and Vaughan of Kitchener’s Horse.
Here we have the position of affairs as they stood on the night of the 17th and on the morning of the 18th, when the trap so ingeniously set for Cronje commenced to close little by little—north, south, east, and west. Everywhere he turned the detestable rooineks menaced him, and he who so lately had eaten his breakfast to the tune of his 100-pounder gun, that belched ruin and mutilation over the whole region of Kimberley, was now constrained to breakfast to a new and disagreeable inversion of an identical melody!
THE BATTLE OF PAARDEBERG
On Sunday, the 18th of February, the most exciting action of the war took place. It was costly as it was momentous, for it served to decide the fate of the fleeing Dutchman. The scene of the drama was not unpicturesque. From the Paardeberg to the Koodoosrand Drift the Modder flowed along a deep hollow from thirty to a hundred yards in depth. To either side the forks of small dongas radiated, while the high banks were fringed with the feathery foliage of the mimosa and willow. Donga and tree stump afforded excellent cover for the slim adversary, sniper or scout. The river travelled from Koodoosrand Drift west-south-west, deviating southwards on either side of the Wolveskraal Drift. A vast expanse of veldt, some two thousand yards wide, shelved down towards the south bank of the river, fringed by higher ground; and this grassy plain extending eastwards joined a circle of kopjes now known as Kitchener’s Hill. On the opposite, the north bank of the river, was another similar plain, dotted with minor kopjes to within a thousand yards of the river, and beyond them was the higher hump of Paardeberg Hill.
The action began at dawn. Firing grew hotter and hotter with the growth of the morning, and soon pandemonium was let loose. While part of the mounted infantry was forcing the rearguard up the river another part was manœuvring on the right front and flank of the enemy. The Dutchmen meanwhile from King’s Kop turned on a quick-firing Hotchkiss gun, which swept the flat country from the kop to the southern bank of the river. The antagonists had both posted themselves on the north bank of the river—both banks of which were level, and this expanse afforded no cover for movements. Over this expanse the Ninth Brigade had to move, struggling through a zone of fire towards the concealed enemy.
Cronje by this time had realised that his position was critical—almost hopeless. Bringing his fine military qualities to bear on the situation, he decided to make the best of a bad job, and entrench himself with all the skill possible. He held about one square mile of the river-bed on either side of Wolveskraal Drift, and beyond that he knew were encircling kopjes, each one concealing its multitude of rooineks. On the east, slowly creeping up, were the menacing numbers of Tucker’s Division; on the west the vast crowds of the mounted infantry and the Sixth Division; on the south were field-guns little more than a mile off, threatening to shower destruction from Gun Hill, while on the north were Naval guns and howitzers. Indeed, everywhere was fate frowning, obdurate, vengeful. But the Dutchman retained his pluck and his wits. He even believed that with everything against him he might yet employ the same tactics which had nonplussed Lord Methuen at Modder River. He still retained a poor opinion of his adversary, and his delusion lent him confidence. He hurriedly built trenches, that in themselves were masterpieces of defensive art, and took up his headquarters in the centre, in a red brick house—a species of travellers’ hostelry, which may be found near all drifts in South Africa. Here at night Mrs. Cronje joined him. During the day she was placed in the women’s shelter at the east side of the area, which shelter was protected by waggons and trenches all along the bed of the river. Talking of these trenches, the correspondent of the Times declared that “the skill with which they were constructed as defences against both rifle and shell fire was worthy of the highest praise. All except those of the outer lines of pickets were made so narrow and deep that it seems as though they were in many cases entered from one end rather than the top, as any such ingress must even in a week’s time have considerably widened the neck of the excavation. At the top they were perhaps eighteen inches wide, at the bottom about three feet, and by crouching down the most complete protection was afforded from bursting shell.
“Every natural protection, such as the ramifications of the dongas which eat into the banks on both sides of the river, had been utilised, though the bombardment from both sides compelled them to abandon their first hasty breastworks cut into the actual top of the bank, which was here from about fifty to a hundred yards from the river itself, and thirty feet in height.