To troopers in the ranks, however, it seemed a much more serious affair, as well it might, for on them fell the burden of an advance that tried their powers of endurance if it did not put a very severe strain on their nerves. One of them, writing rather for his own gratification than with the idea of helping to make history, gives a graphic picture of the movement out of camp in the darkest hour before dawn to join other troops, and then trot on through the ‘pitch blackness’ over ground on which stones seemed to have cropped up suddenly where no stones had been before, so that horses stumbled at every stride. Then, as it grew lighter, they saw that a whole army was with them, extending along a front that stretched for miles. Lumsden’s Horse halted under a hill near Ospruit, and British guns opened fire from its crest. At this point the trooper’s hasty notes become ruggedly picturesque as he describes the sequence of events:
The Boer artillery replied, and it became rather a hot corner. Shells burst all round us and over our heads. We were retired and lay down. Then moved to the right, gave over our horses to the even numbers, and moved forward on foot, extending to some ten paces apart. So we advanced, sometimes mounted, sometimes on foot—always extended. Then lay down, then advanced again, and lay down—all in long parallel lines, Lumsden’s Horse being on the extreme right, or nearly so. The Infantry marched in beautifully regular and even straight lines, apparently quite indifferent to the Boer guns that now opened on them and made good shooting too. The shell fell all amongst those Infantry, but when the dust cleared nobody seemed to be down, and the line went on unmoved. Then some shells came in our direction, but either fell short or whistled over our heads doing no harm; yet we were retired a bit. Then a pom-pom of ours came into action and silenced the Boer guns. This was all straight ahead. Meanwhile a gun opened across our front at some Boers, whom we could see plainly retreating on the right. They replied until the pom-poms behind us opened on them. Then they bolted and were chased by some Mounted Infantry who came up on our flank. Again we advanced on foot and got near the big kopje. Then Colonel Lumsden rode up, called for the horses, and ordered us to advance and join other corps of the 8th Mounted Infantry in a flank attack. Off we went at a trot, and then, extending to intervals of ten paces, advanced towards the kopje in front of us at a walk, but still mounted. Suddenly there was a bang, and a few seconds later a shell burst dead on for our centre, but some 200 yards short. After a brief pause a second shell burst 100 yards nearer, and then another, the fragments of which kicked up the dust all round us. This we discovered was what Cavalry called ‘being out to draw fire.’ Still we advanced. Bang went the gun again, and there was a cloud of dust followed by a tremendous report not twenty yards from Clifford, Cayley, and me. Iron whizzed over our heads, but nobody was hit. Our horses plunged and wheeled round, and, seeing everyone was off, we did not stop either. Halted and dismounted at a farmhouse lower down near a stream, where the company assembled. Then handed over our horses, and, advancing again, with lots of others on foot, trudged a weary two miles, when a Boer Maxim opened on us; but though the bullets swept ground between the front line and ourselves, they did no harm. When darkness began to fall the order came for us to retire, and, our horses being brought up, we rode back over dykes and sluits and boggy places in the pitch black. Nobody knew the way, but, seeing lights on our right, we made for them, and got into camp about 7 o’clock. Not a bad day’s work, having started at 3 A.M. with nothing whatever in the way of food to start on. Tied our nags up. Everybody too tired to boil a kettle, or even light a fire. Ate half a biscuit and some bully-beef and turned in. The left half-company having come back to camp comparatively early, got into a hen-roost and made great store of fowls, turkeys, and ducks. Heard that two foreign officers had been taken—one German and one Russian—who said it was useless going on, as the Boers would not stand and would not fight. So ended the Battle of Brandfort.
BRINGING HALF RATIONS UP TO NORMAL
(From a sketch by J.S. Cowen)
Colonel Lumsden takes up the narrative at this point in an official report to the executive committee, and without attempting to describe the general operations he gives a clear outline of events in which his corps took a prominent part, leaving details to be filled in by troopers according to their various views, and they give some realistic sketches, not only of the actions but also of the men under fire. In Colonel Lumsden’s epitome of a day when the troops were supposed to rest and gain fresh vigour for a forward movement, there is a meaning that could not have been better expressed than it is in this short sentence:
On the 4th we halted, with no food for horses and only biscuit for the men.
On the 5th, when the enemy were driven from a strong position on the banks of Vet River, we had a long dragging day, most of the march being done on foot to ease our tired horses, and with little hope of finding any enemy in front of us, though away on our flank the artillery on both sides were hotly engaged. At about 2 P.M. we suddenly got the order to change direction to the left and head for Vet railway station, which the enemy held in force. We crossed the Vet river, where Boer commandos had been making a stubborn stand, and soon found ourselves among our Infantry. Shortly afterwards our guns opened fire and our Infantry came into action, while the Mounted Infantry were sent round by our right—northwards—to intercept, if possible, the retreating enemy. It was a race for the same drift again among the Mounted Infantry, and we got there first. Crossing the river, we were told to push forward as fast as possible and seize a kopje two miles off which commanded a somewhat deep valley on the left, up which the enemy were retiring. As it was supposed to be a race between us and the enemy for the kopje, we had not the time to make a thorough reconnaissance before approaching, with the result that our scouts arrived at the kopje only some 600 to 700 yards before us, and the enemy had a charge at us at 800 yards. We immediately opened out and took cover behind the bund of a tank fifty yards in rear, and, dismounting, opened fire on the kopje and silenced it. We were unable to stay there, as the enemy from the valley were galloping up on our left under the cover of the kopje, so I gave the order to my sixty men to mount and retire on our supports, who were now coming up a quarter-mile in rear. We were only just in time, for, as we were mounting, the Boer pom-pom treated us to a ‘belt’ the shells of which came fair into the middle of us.
The supports now opened fire with two pom-poms and 200 men, and the enemy retired, leaving us free to return to camp, which we reached at 7 P.M.—another long day of quite thirty miles. Our casualties were only one scout killed when reconnoitring this kopje. This was Private A.K. Meares, who was shot through the heart, and whom we buried the following morning.
One of the scouts who was with young Meares when they reconnoitred the kopje describes that episode with convincing directness, and incidentally records a very gallant action on the part of Lieutenant Pugh, as if it were the most commonplace occurrence. Following is his version of the affair given in extracts from a private letter:
By 2 in the afternoon we were fairly in touch with the enemy, and an artillery duel commenced. After some time our fire grew too hot for the Boers, and they retired with their guns. We had been sent forward to try to turn the Boer flank, and our section, No. 4 B, was ordered to seize a kopje which was supposed to be unoccupied. We, of the advanced party, cantered up to within 250 yards of the enemy’s sangar, and then they opened on us, but I must say they made very bad shooting; we had got within 200 yards of them before turning to retire, and yet only one man was hit. We were all in line, about twelve of us, in skirmishing order, when the Boers opened fire, and when the order to retire reached us we went back as fast as we could. Meares—the man who was killed—and I were going in the same direction, and as his horse was dead done, and had already fallen once during the day, I reined up so as to get near him in case of need. I was just a little ahead of him and kept glancing round to see how he was doing. In looking after him I quite forgot my own horse, and then I don’t know what happened. All I know is that half an hour afterwards I found myself breathless, holding one of our officer’s stirrup-leathers and running for dear life. My horse, it seems, got into a hole and came down an awful crash on top of me. The others thought both the horse and I had been shot. Almost immediately after this Meares went down, shot through the heart from the back. Both our horses righted themselves, and galloped back to the section. I lay stunned for half an hour, and then, as I have told you, I staggered up to No. 2 section, who were covering our retreat. I believe I was making straight for the Boer line of fire, when one of our officers shouted out to me and gave me his stirrup-leather to hold as I came up to him. I was so completely done after a short run that he got off his horse and gave me a lift on it. Lieutenant Pugh was the man. It was dark by this time, and as we had driven the Boers off we retired to our camp. I picked up my section again, and found my horse, who was badly cut about the head. My face was in a lovely condition—one eye closed, and my cheek, forehead, and nose one big bruise, and my head was splitting with pain. It was a providential escape, and if I had not fallen I should surely have shared Meares’s fate.