Shortly afterwards the music began in earnest. A mile up the valley a Boer big gun appeared and opened fire on troops advancing on the hill from our left rear. Then out came one of our pom-poms and, galloping into position, replied from the opposite end of the valley at a range of some 3,000 yards. The duel between the two lasted for about ten minutes, the pom-pom firing briskly as is its wont, the more ponderous Boer gun replying every two minutes. Lying on the slope as we were, in full view of the valley and within a hundred yards of the line of fire of the opposing guns, we had a splendid, not to say realistic, illustration of artillery fire. The singing of the big shells as they tore through the air was magnificent to our unaccustomed ears. It was curious, too, to observe the sequence in which indications of discharge and report reached us. The first sign that the Boer big gun had been fired was the little cloud of smoke floating near the muzzle. Next we heard the singing of the shell passing up the valley. This was followed by the dust raised by the explosion of the shell in bursting, and not until these evidences of a shot having been fired did we hear the actual report, which was closely followed by that of the bursting shell itself.
For some five minutes the duel proceeded, no evidence of the effect of the pom-pom fire being visible to our eyes, though it became evident that the Boers were finding the range, for each shell seemed to land nearer, until, as it seemed to us, one burst right in the middle of our gun. At that moment those of us on the slope heard rifle fire immediately behind. It proved to be our own regiment’s Maxim taking sighting shots at the Boer gun. This certainly made things livelier, but there was no comfort in realising that we lay right in the line of fire, and that replies from the enemy would probably land among us. However, the Boers took no notice of the Maxim, though it spat out bullets at a tremendous rate, but continued to devote their attention to the pom-pom. The greater weight of the Boer metal soon made matters too hot for Captain Rotton’s[[8]] little gun, and it shortly afterwards retired behind the hill, having lost several horses. Then our turn came, and the officious little Maxim, which had been kicking up a great shindy in our rear, drew the Boer fire. The first shot whizzed unpleasantly close to our heads and burst between us and the Maxim, which, undismayed, continued to pour out a hot fire. Number two was aimed slightly higher and travelled beyond the gun, killing two horses and wounding one man. The Maxim stuck it out pluckily for one more shell, but that fell so close that to have delayed any longer would have only been folly. On the retreat of our machine gun the Boer gun retired behind a kopje, and we were left in peace for a time, though the firing on our left had now greatly increased, and showed that a brisk fight was going on.
About 10 o’clock orders were received for part of my section to extend to the right, and six of us, in command of Sergeant Walter Walker, went right down into the valley. In our new position we were sheltered by a low rocky ridge on the left, but the ground was open in every other direction. The ridge referred to cut us off entirely from what was going on on our left, and this accounts for the misfortunes which followed.
Meanwhile the firing that had begun on our left earlier in the morning had increased tremendously. Bullets began to come our way very frequently, but as we were under the lee of a ridge they passed over our heads, evidently nearly spent, for the sharp ping of a newly-sped shot had changed with them into the melancholy wail of spirits that had lived and lived in vain. So great had the noise become that shouting to each other was ineffectual, not a word reaching even one’s next neighbour. So we lay and waited.
Suddenly it struck us that the chain of fire extending in a line to our left seemed to be swinging towards our left rear, and a few minutes’ attention confirmed an idea that the position of the opposing forces must have altered considerably. As we listened the firing seemed to increase in fierceness and sounded still further to the rear. The position had become uncomfortable, for our horses were 800 yards in our direct rear. To lose them would be fatal to our safety; the six of us, therefore, got up and began to retire slowly, wondering that no orders had reached us.
BUGLER R.H. MACKENZIE
A shower of bullets swept past, singing in our ears with spiteful distinctness. Looking round I saw, barely fifty yards away, two-score Boers kneeling and firing away for all they were worth. A second look was unnecessary, and we ran like deer, the bullets whizzing by thick as hail. It was amazing that none of us was hit. Bullets seemed to me to be pouring between my legs and under my feet. A little rising gave us momentary protection, but the Boers came on again until within fifty yards, and poured a hot fire into us. Two hundred yards away we could see our horses and near them the rest of the section, which had got earlier notice of the repulse of our troops, galloping away. Each man got to his horse, but they shouted to me that mine had been killed by a shell. It was not a pleasant predicament, but before I had time to realise that the Boers must either shoot or capture me, Bugler Mackenzie galloped up and offered me a lift behind him. I was dead beat with running and quite unequal to violent effort. I put my foot in the stirrup he released, and tried to climb up. But my bandolier, haversack, and water-bottle all bunched in front and caught the blanket tied on at the pommel of the high military saddle. Back I flopped on to the ground. Another effort, and I nearly pulled Mackenzie, who was a light boy, out of the saddle. The firing all the time was very hot, and, fearing to bring disaster on all of us, I ordered Mackenzie off. But he would not budge until Saunders and Parkes between them helped me up behind the first-named. What a relief it was to feel the ground slipping past and to know we were getting out of such a desperate scrape! The Boer fire had slackened for a little, but the reason was that they had mounted and galloped up to within close range. Again they opened, and once more the ground all around was dusted up and the air alive with singing bullets. It was too much to hope for escape a second time, and sure enough, before we had gone a hundred yards, the gallant gee with his double load fell heavily to earth, a bullet having struck him. Being perched high up, I reached the ground first with a thud I hope never to experience again. Saunders then fell on top of me, and the horse crashed heavily across both of us, kicking me on the shoulder as he rolled over.
E.B. PARKES