In the Shadow of Death

by P. H. Kritzinger; R. D. Mc Donald

At the beginning of the war some, especially the uninitiated, dreaded nothing more than a war council. To such it was a body of men invested with unlimited power, a council that could pronounce sentence of death on whomsoever they wished. To appear before this august assembly meant almost certain death. Now sometimes it meant that, but more often not. For one reason or another prisoners were for the time being brought in under a wrong impression of the character of the assembly. Such was the case with two farmers in the district of Trompsburg, Orange River Colony. They had been arrested on a charge of sending reports to the enemy. Terror-stricken, they appeared before the war council, there to render an account of their deeds. Before their trial began, the president of the council, in addressing the other officers, assured them that whatever sentence they should consider just would be carried out by him. If sentence of death should be passed, he would not hesitate to take his rifle and put an end to the lives of the accused. "We must," he said, "put a stop to these treasonable acts." The poor prisoners trembled from head to foot. No mercy! On being examined, they acknowledged that they had forwarded treasonable reports to the enemy, and began to plead for mercy. One of them asked us to bear in mind that he was a poor man, and had a wife and a large family that would be left destitute. Pretending to be quite in earnest, we assured him that we were decided to take nothing into consideration, and would mete out strict justice. They were then removed so that the court could decide on their punishment. After a few minutes' consultation they were called in, and asked to subscribe their names to a statement which ran as follows:—

We, the undersigned, do hereby declare, that, as burghers of the Orange Free State, we had no right to send reports to the British, and, in doing so, we have committed High Treason.

When they had signed the paper one of the officers remarked that we must have such a declaration signed by the accused to justify our actions with regard to them before the Government. Another officer asked the president whether the prisoners would be allowed to take leave of their families. To which the president abruptly replied: "No; such characters do not deserve any privileges." They were left under the awful impression for two hours that both would be shot, and then released with a warning to forward no reports to the enemy. Their anxiety must have been intense; their joy on being acquitted no less.

Non-combatants frequently found themselves in an uneasy and perplexing position. It was sometimes most difficult to differentiate between Boer and Briton, especially in the night. The poor farmer was often at his wits' end to know whom he was addressing, the more so when the British ranks were swelled by Dutch colonists and national scouts. The non-combatant farmer found it extremely difficult to steer a course inoffensive to either side. He was between two fires, for when suspected of disloyalty, either a Dutch or English trap might be laid for him. Not a few were caught in such snares. Others were more careful. If they did not know you personally, it was of no avail to tell them that you belonged to such and such a commando or column. They simply professed to know nothing. "I don't know," was the answer to every question. They were, of course, on the safe side. But many committed themselves, if not in deeds, then in words. To cite a few cases:—

One of our officers, Captain Pretorius, dismounted one evening at the farm of a Mr. B. in the district of Bethulie. The farmer, hearing a tap at the door, went and opened it. Pretorius, who posed as an English officer, asked Mr. B., "Where are the Boers?" The latter, pointing to certain ridges in the distance, said in rather broken English, "Do you see those kopjes yonder? They are full of Boers." But asked at the same time, "Do tell me, are you really an Englishman? I must be clear on this point before I can speak to you. There must be no mistake." On being assured by Pretorius and his party that they were not Boers and did not belong to the Boer forces, he told them very confidently all, and perhaps more than they wanted to know, for he began to express himself very strongly against the so-called marauding bands of Boers still roaming at large. He promised the supposed English officer that, as soon as possible, he would report the Boers; he would, he said, have done so already had the opportunity come his way. Just think how confused and embarrassed Mr. B. was when the English officer suddenly changed into a Boer, lifted his gun and said in his most harsh tone, "I feel inclined to send a bullet through your brains. Are you not ashamed to slander your own people in this way? It is because we have such Africanders as you in our midst that we suffer so much." This revelation proved almost too much for the farmer, who was of a timid and nervous disposition. The Boers left his farm the following day for regions so distant that it was impossible to trap him again. Once was enough for him.

The next victim resided in the same district. Commandant Joubert, having crossed the Bethulie-Springfontein line, touched at the farm of a certain Mr. X. Joubert, accompanied by a burgher, went to wake up Mr. X. They knocked loudly at the door; knocks failing, they were followed by a kick. But there was no response. Inside it was as still as the grave. Thinking that Mr. X. was out, the Commandant went to his brother's room, where he learnt that Mr. X. was in, sure enough. When Joubert heard this he went back to his room, tapped loudly once more, and then said, "Bring the dynamite, and let us blow up the show," while the other burgher said, "Never mind the dynamite, let us fire through the door." On hearing of dynamite and firing through the door, the occupant could remain silent no longer. He jumped up and cried out, "Wait, wait—don't fire! I am coming." Peeping out at the door, he asked with tremulous voice, "What do you want?" "Come out," said the Commandant; "I want to see you on important business." "The sooner you come the better for you," added the burgher, who happened to be related to Mr. X. This remark, however, spoiled the rest of the game, for Mr. X. recognised the voice of his relative, and catching at the same time a glimpse of his face in the bright moonlight, he rushed out and flung his arms around one who had not killed his relative's affection by his joke.

The following incident well illustrates the self-possession and presence of mind sometimes displayed by our opponents. On a certain day two Boer scouts were charged by two of their own men. The scouts, observing that the two burghers mistook them for enemies, simply dismounted and waited for them. While the two Boers came tearing up to their own scouts, two of the enemy's scouts who were not far off, observing these two Boers, took them in their turn for British, and thinking to render them some assistance, likewise charged the Boer scouts. When they reached the Boer scouts the two burghers had already captured (?) the latter, and had dismounted. Our friends at once realized their awkward position. They were in the presence of four Boers. Escape was out of the question, unless they could get round these Boers in some way or other. As both of them could talk Dutch, being Colonials, the happy idea struck them at once to try to pose as burghers, for there were several commandoes in that district, and it was just possible that these Boers, in whose hands they now were, would take their word and let them off. One of them, therefore, on reaching the burghers, very ingeniously remarked, "Well, you know, we actually took you for khakis." The other one was not slow to offer the burghers some fruit which he had in his pocket. And so they began talking to one another in a most familiar way. One of the Boers, a certain Mr. Bresler, suspected these two unknown friends, and while the other three were conversing with them as they sat on their horses, he (Bresler) kept his eyes on them, and watched their every movement. At length Bresler said, "Well, you had better go to your commando, or dismount your tired horses." Only too glad to get away they replied, "We are going; good-bye," and off they rode. "Do you know these fellows?" Bresler asked his comrades, as they were leaving them. "No," was the reply. "Well," said Bresler, "to be sure, they are British scouts." He called them back and asked them to which commando they belonged. "Potgieter's" was the answer. As there was no such commandant, they were immediately arrested. Had Bresler not been present the probability is that they would have captured the three burghers, for, as they told him, they simply waited for an opportunity to disarm them, but they saw that Bresler was watching them all the time and so could not venture to lift their rifles.

Sport of the most dangerous nature was sometimes indulged in. Certain Boer officers, and also privates, would risk their lives to have some amusement. Commandant W. Fouché was one of those who ventured most. Naturally brave and sometimes even reckless, he would step in almost anywhere. In the district of Willowmore, Cape Colony, he one evening entered a house where two of the enemy's scouts were comfortably seated by the side of two young ladies. He stepped into the room, greeted all, and took a seat next to one of the young ladies. To chafe and annoy the scouts, he placed his hand on the shoulder of one of the young ladies and pretended to kiss her. This act of his was enough to set one of the Englishmen on fire. "I shall not allow you," he said, "to touch the lady. You have no right to do it." Fouché then desisted; he withdrew his arm, and asked the young lady for some food, as he was very hungry. His friend calmed down, and they began to converse. By chance one of the scouts touched his pocket and noticed that there was something strange in it. "What is that hard thing in your pocket?" he queried. Fouché replied, "Oh, it is my pipe." "Your pipe is very large indeed," rejoined the scout. (This pipe was nothing else than a revolver.)

To irritate his unknown friends, Fouché began again to trifle with one of the ladies. This time the scout lost self-control; he rose, and taking his chair with both hands, brought it down upon Fouché with all his might, evidently with the intention of shattering the brains of the latter. Fouché smartly parried the blow, and the next instant the striker was a wounded man, and his comrade a prisoner.

In the district of Rouxville the same officer had a similar experience. There, one evening, he came across three of the enemy—one a Dutch colonist, the other two Britons—off-saddled at a farm. As they did not expect any Boers, their rifles were carelessly left outside the house. Fouché was again the one to enter. Having disguised himself so as to create no suspicion, he boldly walked in and shook hands with the party. The Colonial, in a domineering tone, asked him the object of his visit. "Come to see my young lady," was the reply. "Have you permission to leave your farm?" "No," said Fouché. "We arrest you at once," said the Colonial, "and will take you to Rouxville gaol. You shall have to walk all the way [some 24 miles], and that will teach you not to go about without a pass at this time of the night." "Well," said Fouché, "I really did not know that I must have a pass to come and see my young lady, and if you arrest me you must kindly allow me to get a horse at home, for certainly I cannot walk all this distance." "Nonsense," replied the Colonial; "there is no time to go home now."