Describing Trooper Preston’s adventurous ride with despatches and his readiness of resource in a difficult situation, another correspondent writes:
Eight men of Lumsden’s Horse in charge of Sergeant Macnamara were sent out in a big patrol under Captain Harris, 1st West Riding M.I., with orders to take the Johannesburg Waterworks. Captain Harris paraded his sixty men, and chose two of Lumsden’s Horse as his orderlies. We then rode down the kopjes to the plain below, Compton’s Horse firing over our heads at the Boers all the time. As we went down we met Trooper Elwes, No. 2 Section, B Company, being brought in wounded through the ankle when on patrol with Lieutenant Pugh. About a mile away there was a farmhouse under the kopje which was held by the Boers; some Australians with us rushed the place, and captured three Boers and a waggon of ammunition. After marching about an hour, firing every now and then and being fired at, we got to the Waterworks on a hill towering above Johannesburg. The fort is on another hill half a mile away. It seemed as if trenches had been dug for us round the Waterworks, high banks of gravel perfectly protecting us. Trooper Preston, of Lumsden’s Horse, was sent back to Germiston with a despatch saying the Waterworks were occupied; he was to make the shortest possible cut, and gallop all the way. This orderly had a very exciting adventure. His shortest road lay through the outskirts of Johannesburg. When riding through these streets he saw several Boers peeping out of their houses, and at one place they actually tried to stop him. He galloped through them, however; they then shouted out to know if the English were in Johannesburg yet, and he answered that they were, knowing that if he said no he would as likely as not be shot at. They then asked where he was going to, and he said Pretoria. Thus it was that a man of Lumsden’s Horse was the first, or one of the first, to enter Johannesburg. A little further the orderly met two Kaffirs who could talk English, and who told him that among the rocks on a small kopje on the left of the road was an armed Boer waiting to shoot him. The orderly was puzzled what to do, as he could see no Boer behind the rocks; however, he dismounted and advanced on foot towards the kopje, leading his horse behind him. Having got within speaking distance of the rocks and still seeing no Boer, he put his rifle to his shoulder and pointed it at the biggest rock, shouting out, ‘Hands up, or I fire!’ Immediately two arms were seen above the rock, the order ‘Hold up your rifle’ was obeyed at once, and the orderly found he had captured the Boer. About a mile further on he met some Australians, and having to gallop with the despatch he handed the prisoner over to them, taking with him the rifle and ammunition. Alas! at the door of the Colonel’s tent whom should he meet but Lord Kitchener himself, who, seeing the orderly had two rifles, commandeered one. Meanwhile the Boers kept up a continuous fire at the Waterworks. However, several Englishmen and young ladies had climbed up the hill at the back and brought food and drink for the first of their countrymen whom they had seen—several of them, while Tommy ate and drank, firing away with the soldiers’ rifles at the fort. In the evening Preston brought the message to retire to camp, which was done in a very orderly fashion, the patrol arriving back soon after dark with the total casualties of three men wounded, having spent the most or one of the most exciting and agreeable days in the whole campaign.
Colonel Lumsden describes other incidents in the following passage:
A party of West Riding Regiment’s Mounted Infantry scouting on our left did not get off so easily, for seeing some men in khaki and helmets to their front they mistook them for friends, and, getting within speaking distance, were much surprised to find their morning’s greetings met with a summons to surrender. Their immediate attempt at flight resulted in two casualties—one wounded and taken prisoner, the other, although wounded, getting back to camp. Firing then became general on our right, where the 3rd Cavalry Brigade was on outpost duty, and we were hastily summoned to saddle up and reinforce them. We arrived in time to witness an artillery duel, the Boers retiring slowly under the fire of the Cavalry pom-poms. The morning’s work, however, resulted badly for them, they having had sixteen casualties, which were attended to by our medical officer, Captain Powell, who was luckily on the spot.
We then returned to camp, and shortly afterwards Captain Holmes came in with his Maxim gun, reporting that he had lost two of his scouting party, Privates Cary-Barnard and G.I. Watson, whom he had sent out in advance while journeying to rejoin us in the early morning. A few hours afterwards the missing men came into camp, stating that having been informed that our men were in front they had ridden confidingly into a body of about fifty men dressed like our own troops in khaki, thinking they were friends, but were suddenly disillusioned by being ordered to surrender. Under the conditions attempting to escape on their worn-out horses was out of the question, and they had no option but to deliver up their arms. They were cross-questioned as to our strength and the likely duration of the war. Private Watson, in reply to the latter question, told the General that he considered fighting would be over in a few days, a reply that seemed to cause much amusement. They were then offered the choice of remaining as prisoners or giving their word of honour that they would fight no more during this war. They chose the latter, thinking the end was very near.
Next morning, June 1, our orders were to march on Johannesburg, six miles distant, which we reached unopposed in time to see the Union Jack hoisted over the Fort, which had been divested of all its guns except a few rendered useless. We then marched some five miles north of the city, and camped for two days. On the morning of the 3rd we marched twelve miles towards Pretoria, meeting no resistance, but again losing touch with our Maxim, which, being unable to follow us across country, had to stick to the road, and which we were destined not to see for several days.
So Lumsden’s Horse had gratified one desire on which their hearts were set for many months. Their brigade had led the fighting line practically into Johannesburg, and when the Union Jack was hoisted over its public buildings they cared nothing for the ceremonial parades, but were only anxious to take the lead again in a march on Pretoria. With soldier-like brevity Colonel Lumsden’s chronicle sums up the operations of an eventful day:
On June 4 we advanced to Six Mile Spruit, again being the foremost corps of the leading brigade, all anticipating a heavy fight in front of us, as the spruit was said to be our enemy’s last position and likely therefore to be desperately contested. These prognostications were not, however, realised. Careful reconnaissance showed that there were no Boers at the spruit. We then proceeded leisurely up the chain of hills beyond it, concluding they were not held, but with every precaution against the unexpected. It was not until midday that we came in touch with the enemy, who opened on the 4th Mounted Infantry on our right with shell fire. We were then pushed forward to take a commanding kopje, and got a smart peppering from a few snipers hidden in the rocks on our left flank, but had no casualties, though the bullets were falling thickly among us as we crossed the open.
It now became evident that the enemy’s main position was on our left, and I was ordered to occupy a ridge about one mile distant in that direction, opposite a steep kopje about 1,000 yards off held by the Boers. Here they were beautifully entrenched and kept up a steady fire on our line, which we returned with interest, until aid arrived in the shape of three fifteen-pounders on the right, two pom-poms on our left, and three Colt guns in the centre. These searched the ridge for some hours without dislodging the Boers, whose trenches must have been admirably constructed, as a move on our part from one rock to another was sufficient to draw a hail of bullets, while we were unable to spot a single Boer.
Here Private Charles E. Stuart was wounded by a bullet through the ankle, but was unable to be removed from the firing line until the fire slackened late in the afternoon, when a kind friend carried him down on his back to the ambulance tonga at the foot of the hill.