Plan of the Boer Laagers and Trenches and the British Positions at Paardeberg.
(By an Officer of the Royal Field Artillery.)
On the east the Sixth Division was hard at work tackling a horde of Boers, who made a last despairing lunge in order to burst through the entangling forces and push for the south bank of the river. The effort was stubborn as it was desperate, but they were defeated by the dash of the West Riding Regiment, who pressed forward with the bayonet and succeeded in seizing the drift. Many splendid fellows were wounded and slain in the collision. Meanwhile the artillery continued to direct their incessant thunder against the laager, pouring in a deluge of destruction from all quarters, and forcing the Dutchmen to shrink within the space, little more than a mile square, into which they had so hurriedly scrambled.
General Kelly-Kenny having possessed himself of both Klip Drift and Koodoosrand Drift, the Boers were now enclosed east and west. But here, crunched in a veritable death-trap, they fought tenaciously. Worn, harassed, and weakened by their hurried march, they yet held a stubborn front to our assaulting troops, and from the cramped region of their laager did as much damage as it was possible to do. The Canadians, who had behaved with conspicuous gallantry in the attack on the laager, lost nineteen killed and sixty-three wounded. A description of the fight as seen from their point of view was given by a private in the 1st Contingent:—
“We left Klip Drift on the Modder River at 6 P.M. Saturday, and marched all night until seven on Sunday morning, covering 23 miles. During the march we could hear the guns ahead. I was orderly man for Sunday, so, removing my pack, I went to the river for water. Just a little way up the river a brisk fire opened up. When I got back to our lines I found them issuing a ration of rum. I had mine, and it just braced me up.
“By this time the engagement was pretty brisk. Our brigade was ordered on the left of the river, which we crossed at a ford just in rear of the camp. The Shropshires crossed first, then followed the Canadians and Gordons. The water was up to our necks. Some went deeper and had to swim. We crossed in fours, holding on to each other, formed up in column and advanced a short distance, when we extended to seven paces in skirmishing order. C Company formed to support A Company.
“By this time the bullets were coming pretty thickly, and we had some very narrow squeaks. We reinforced A Company at 500 yards and opened fire. The Boer fire was heavy, and some of our boys had been hit, but we soon subdued the fire. Their position was in the river, and we were lying out in the open, no cover of any kind except a few anthills. We could see very little to fire at except the fire from their guns. Our line was in a crescent shape, the right on the river, and the left extended along about 500 yards. In the afternoon our troops were ordered to cease fire. As soon as we stopped they started sniping, which made us hug the ground.
“Shortly after joining the firing line Captain Arnold of A Company was struck. The Boers started a murderous fire on the stretcher-bearers who carried him away, a trick they did all day long. Towards evening the left was ordered to reinforce the right. It was a daring move, but we did it by running down in threes and fours. At dark all the forces retired, and quite a few men volunteered to search for the wounded. I was out all night until four the next morning, when I laid down played out. I never want to witness such terrible sights as I saw that night again. Whenever we showed ourselves in the moonlight the sharpshooters would fire at us. We were all up early next morning, but the Boers had retired farther up the river. So we collected our wounded and buried the dead. I was helping a hospital sergeant, and he sent two of us up the river to search for wounded. We found a few, and also came across a wounded Boer, whom we bandaged and took back to camp. We also came across a few dead. We questioned the Boer, and he said that they had retired during the night, carrying their wounded and throwing the dead into the river. After dinner, which we had about four, we went out on outpost duty. During the night there was quite a little firing going on. This morning we advanced towards the position again, and about ten o’clock retired for some breakfast and advanced again. Although under fire all day we did not fire, but the artillery certainly played Cain with them.”
Captain Arnold’s wound was mortal, but Lieutenant Mason, who was also shot, was not dangerously hurt.
A Colonial, writing from the front at Paardeberg, said that fighting “went on during the day until about five o’clock, when the Cornwalls arrived in support. The officer commanding this battalion seemed to think that too much time had already been spent in fighting the Boers, so ordered the charge. The result was fatal to the Cornwalls, as they had to retire. The Canadians, acting under the orders of the commanding officer of the Cornwalls as senior officer, also charged, and with a like result; but the Canadians, in place of retiring, simply lay down and remained. It was during this charge that most of the fatalities occurred. The unfortunate commanding officer of the Cornwalls was killed, and Captain Arnold and Lieutenant Mason of the Canadians wounded. The Brigadier subsequently expressed his regret that the charge took place, but at the same time warmly congratulated the Canadians on their behaviour, as did Lord Roberts also.”
Of gallantry and daring there was no end. From dawn till sunset raged a battle of appalling fierceness, of magnificent persistency. From drift to drift the hollows reverberated with the perpetual roll of musketry, the brawling of multifarious guns, the hoarse cheers of charging troops, the shouts of the unflinching enemy. Curling smoke burst in wreaths and garlands from the sides of the hills and rose against the purple of thunder-clouds; flaring tongues of vengeful flame danced and forked their reflections of heaven’s lightnings; spouts and torrents of water poured from the sky, mingling with the heroical blood of Britain’s best, that trickled in rivulets, north, south, east, and west of the scene, and traced far and wide the history of sacrifice on the now sacred ground. For all this, the position of the contending parties remained unchanged—Cronje defiant and enclosed, the British lion crouching, watching.
At dusk the scene was weirdly, terrifically picturesque. From the south and north sides of the river shells hurtled through the air, falling and exploding along the river-bed, now setting fire to a waggon, now a cart, and filling the gloom with lurid panoramas of flame and an awe-striking, ceaseless din. Once an ammunition waggon was struck. Then the blaze and crackling which followed, intermingling as they did with the roar of artillery and the rattle of rifles, made a fitting concert for Hades. And to the tune of this demoniacal intermezzo the cordon round the enemy was gradually closing, his last chances of escape were one by one being sealed, the last links in Lord Roberts’ strategical chain were being forged.
At night there was peace. The Modder might have been the placid purling Thames winding along between fringed and sloping banks to the bosom of the sea. But there was none to admire the pretty scene. All were worn out, and glad to drop to sleep where they had fought, while the bearer-parties—“body-snatchers,” as they were jocosely styled—picked their way in the darkness, doing their deeds of mercy with zealous, unflagging perseverance. During this time many deserters from the enemy came in. They had seen the hopelessness of their case, and had been urging, uselessly, the implacable Cronje to surrender.
The following is the list of those who were killed and wounded during the fight:—