So Johannesburg was ours! The advance, which appeared to be so rapid, straightforward, and simple, owed these qualities to Lord Roberts’s splendid, almost prophetic, instinct for gauging the enemy’s expectations with a view to disappointing them; to his strategic manipulation of his cavalry and mounted infantry, and to the magnificent marching capability of the infantry. Everywhere, the Boers had fenced themselves across the route, sometimes extending their line of defence for twenty miles or more, and everywhere, in dread of having one flank or the other turned, they had been kept oscillating between stubborn resistance and rapid flight till their nerves had given way, and they had scuttled back and back to their undoing. At the Vet, the Zand, the Valsch, the Rhenoster, and the Klip Rivers, they had cunningly prepared themselves, till, with the infantry menacing them in front and the cavalry and infantry threatening both flanks, they had realised that retreat was inevitable. Their last hope had been set on the city of mines; and now from thence, a routed, raging rabble, they were fleeing in despair.
The splendid progress of the infantry was a remarkable achievement, of which enough cannot be said. It was no mere feat of pedestrianism. It was a march in face of an enterprising enemy, and harassed with discomforts sufficiently multifarious to try the endurance of a Socrates. A scorching sun by day and a frigid temperature by night, occasional sand blasts rendering drier than ever parched throats already dry as husk from the tramp through a sand-clogged and almost waterless country, were but items in the programme. If water there chanced to be, it was ochreous and fouled by the passage of many quadrupeds, and such food as there was—bully beef and adamantine biscuit—demanded the jaws and digestion of an alligator. Yet these sturdy fellows plodded along, lumbering through sand drifts and squelching in mire and morass, or laid themselves to rest on the hard or soggy ground with a philosophy so devil-may-care as almost to fringe on the sublime. With unquenchable gaiety, they had accomplished a march of 254 miles (the distance from Bloemfontein to Elandsfontein) in eighteen days, giving as an average fourteen miles a day. (This calculation naturally excludes the ten days’ halt at Kroonstad.) From Kroonstad to Elandsfontein, a distance of some 126 miles—covered in seven days (22nd to 29th)—marching had gone forward at the rate of eighteen miles a day. Napoleon’s much vaunted march from the Channel to the Rhine in 1805 showed an average of sixteen miles a day, when the distance traversed was 400 miles, and the time taken twenty-five days. But that march, unopposed throughout, was comparatively plain sailing. Quicker forced marches have been known,[7] but in the present case the march was continuous, and may be said to beat all records of rapid marching under equally inconvenient conditions.
The twenty-four hours were allowed to pass. Then, at the entrance of the town Dr. Krause met the Commander-in-Chief, and rode with him to the government offices, and introduced to him the heads of the various departments, all of whom were requested to continue their respective duties till they should be relieved of them.
To those who had never seen Johannesburg the first glimpse was a surprise. Strangely incongruous did it seem to move from the isolation and rugged simplicity of the open veldt to the centre of a large and peculiarly civilised town. The note of modernity was sounded on every side. Buildings more than magnificent greeted the eye accustomed only to homely farms and mushroom staadts. Tramways ribbed the streets, electric lights gleamed a whiter glare than moonbeams, and nineteenth-century luxury, and in some cases refinement, were in evidence at every turn. But the public buildings were closed, and the handsome shops boarded up for precaution’s sake, while the streets were thinly populated, owing to the fact that many of the British sympathisers had been expelled, and the Boer community was on commando.
THE CITY OF LONDON IMPERIAL VOLUNTEERS SUPPORTING GENERAL HAMILTON’S LEFT FLANK IN THE ACTION AT DOORNKOP ON THE 29TH OF MAY
Drawing by C. E. Fripp, R.W.S., War Artist
But though at first the place was deserted, by degrees people began to trickle in, and by the time the square in front of the government buildings was reached there was a goodly throng. The Vierkleur was still flying when Lord Roberts, at the head of General Pole-Carew’s division, marched into the town; but presently the keys were formally surrendered, the flag was hauled down, and a small Union Jack, worked by Lady Roberts, was hoisted in its place.
At the conclusion of the ceremony the rousing strains of the Guards’ band were heard, and the 11th and 7th Divisions marched past, with the Naval Brigade, the heavy artillery, and two Brigade Divisions of Royal Horse Artillery. General Ian Hamilton’s column and the Cavalry Division and Mounted Infantry were too far away to take part in the proceedings.