After such a march, in which horses had become so emaciated by want of sufficient food to sustain them, and so leg-weary from incessant work under heavy burdens, that more than two-thirds of them were temporarily unfit for service, the corps naturally expected to get a long rest at Pretoria. Nearly every man needed it too, and welcomed the prospect of a little town life in touch with civilisation, where some luxuries might be enjoyed and experiences exchanged with comrades from other columns. Ragged and out at heels from being having marched[being having marched] long distances through tangled growth of rhenoster bushes and ‘wait-a-bit’ thorns to relieve their exhausted steeds, these troopers naturally looked forward to the chance of clothing themselves in comfort if the stores of Pretoria should be equal to that demand, or at any rate of waiting until articles of much-needed kit could be got up from the bases where these things had been left. Such expectations were natural enough in the case of men who began to think there would be no more need of their services, since Lord Roberts had expressed an opinion that regular warfare was nearly at an end. Circumstances seemed then to justify that view. Though De Wet was still at large, he did not count for much while his followers were scattered in all directions with little chance of coming together again. Botha’s forces, offering but a feeble resistance at any point, had been pushed further and further eastward by Generals French and Pole-Carew, operating in their front, and the army of Natal on their flank. Buller had fought his brilliant action at Bergendal, where Lord Roberts considered the success decisive, saying: ‘It was carried out in view of the main Boer position, and the effect of it was such that the enemy gave way at all points, flying in confusion to the north and east. Next morning Buller was able to occupy Machadodorp without opposition.’ Dundonald’s brigade of Irregular Cavalry had pushed on in pursuit of the Boers through mountainous country, where they made no stand against him. Buller, continuing his march, occupied Waterval Boven, where the prisoners released from Nooitgedacht joined him. President Kruger and other members of the late Transvaal Government were at Nelspruit preparing for flight across the Portuguese frontier; and General French was at Carolina, waiting only for reinforcements to make his swoop on Barberton by way of the last stronghold that remained in the enemy’s hands south of the Delagoa Bay Railway. It looked, indeed, as if Boer resistance on any organised scale must be near its final stage, and the thoughts of Lumsden’s Horse naturally turned towards home rather than to opportunities for gaining fresh distinction. Their hopes of immediate peace with honour were, however, doomed to disappointment. Before they had been in Pretoria many hours orders for a fresh move had reached them, and, instead of having leisure for relaxation or even a taste of civilisation’s comforts, they had to spend the next day in drawing from stores the outfit of which they were sorely in need and making other preparations for their march. Their Brigadier-General (Mahon) was to go in command of reinforcements for General French, and the troops placed at his disposal were M Battery Royal Horse Artillery, the 3rd Corps of Mounted Infantry, Queensland Mounted Infantry, New Zealand Mounted Rifles, 79th Company Imperial Yeomanry, the Imperial Light Horse, and Lumsden’s Horse. The order came to them in a form which left no doubt in any mind that there was still a man’s work to be done, and that they were about to take part in another important phase of the great Boer war. Therefore they put aside all vain regrets for the things that were just then out of reach. Disappointment gave place quickly to gratification at the thought that they were to see service under such a dashing leader as General French, who had never up to that time met the Boers without bringing them to action, and whose reputation rose higher after every enterprise undertaken by him, though he was not always allowed to take full advantage of a success by following up his beaten enemies. The Boers, who attributed every British success in the Free State and Transvaal to luck or to overwhelming numbers, had given to French the title of the ‘lucky General.’ They said it was by luck alone that he beat Commandant Koch at Elandslaagte before their reinforcements could come up. Luck, according to them, served him again in the hour of his secret withdrawal from Colesberg just before De la Rey’s plans for annihilation were complete, and yet again when he made his dash at interposing forces north of Modder River, and, striking at the very point where they were weakest, got through just in the nick of time, took their positions in reverse, and thus cleared a way for the relief of Kimberley. If all this can be called luck, then it is something to be a lucky general and goes a long way in justification of the faith that Napoleon placed in men who had that reputation. At any rate, no Boer commandos were very eager to get in the way of ‘lucky French,’ and whenever he was known to be operating on their flank they always thought it time to summon thither one of their own Generals most trusted for his ability to conduct a retreat. That luck fell more than once to De la Rey’s lot. In a recent conversation that redoubtable leader, the best fighting man of all on the Boer side, told the Editor of this History that it was he who opposed French at Driefontein after Cronjé’s surrender. He also had to fight all the rearguard actions up to the time of our crossing the Vaal, when he went off in hot haste for the purpose of intercepting Mahon’s column before it could reach Mafeking. Having been out-manœuvred there, he was called back to aid Botha outside Johannesburg, and entrusted again with the task of delaying French’s flanking movement by the defence of Klipriviersberg until the Boer guns and convoys could make good their retreat. Obviously they did not think it safe to trust anything to chance when our ‘lucky General’ was pressing them, but sent their wiliest tactician and most stubborn fighter to hold him in play while they cleared off. If any of them really believed in their capacity to beat French on equal terms—the advantage of ground being with them to counterbalance British superiority in numbers—an admirable opportunity offered in the mountainous ranges of the Devil’s Kantoor, where, Boer leaders had frequently declared, they would crush any force attempting to reach Barberton that way. If properly held, the positions there would have been almost impregnable. Few people to this day know the difficulties that French had before him when he concentrated his force at Carolina. The Boers knew all about these things. Every zig-zag track like a winding stair up the precipitous mountain-side was familiar to them. They knew also the object with which he was waiting to gather strength at Carolina, and they brought forces against him that were little inferior numerically to his own. Yet when at last he struck straight for almost inaccessible mountain passes, instead of making a wide detour to get round them, they were so paralysed by the ‘lucky General’s’ audacity that they let him have his way, which led by the nearest track to Barberton. This slight digression, however, anticipates events which may now be dealt with more fully in the narratives by Colonel Lumsden, his officers and troopers, whose experiences and observations are woven together in the following description of events in something like proper sequence:
We were by this time reduced to forty fit horses.
Our stay in Pretoria, as we had heard it would be, was only a short one. The day after arriving in camp we were served out with new kit, of which we were sadly in need, most of the men being in a very ragged condition indeed. General Mahon was to proceed to Carolina and join General French’s division there, leaving General Ian Hamilton’s division, to which we were no longer attached. It rained heavily the night before we started, and as we marched at daybreak there was no time to dry our blankets, which were simply sopping wet.
Our total muster on parade was—A Company 17, B Company 24; in all, 41 rank-and-file. The balance of nearly 100 men, under Captain Beresford, were to follow on receipt of remounts, and overtake us if possible. This hope was soon knocked on the head, for while headquarters started with General Mahon for Barberton, the remainder were sent to Machadodorp, which they reached without much adventure a fortnight later. Notwithstanding their repeated attempts to join us, their wishes were not acceded to, the country being considered too dangerous for a small party to move alone. On the 31st we reached Bronkhurst Spruit, memorable in the Transvaal as the spot where British troops, under Colonel Anstruther, were badly cut up in the last war, while marching, all unconscious that war had been declared against the Transvaal. On September 1 we passed Balmoral and camped at Elandsfontein. On the 2nd, near the Transvaal and Delagoa Bay coal-mines, a French gentleman was good enough to communicate the latest Boer lie. It was that China was sending a million of troops to invade England. The country about here is very treacherous, with many swamps which unwary troopers may not see until they are floundering in mire, where their horses sink to the girths. Our camp that night was at Reitspruit, six miles from Middelburg.
The next day we passed Middelburg, which proved a grievous disappointment, for there was absolutely nothing in the way of provisions procurable, and camped at Reitpan. The weather was very hot, the sun striking down with great force during the middle of the day. General Mahon had adopted the plan of off-saddling and halting for two or three hours during the heat of the day, instead of marching steadily from 6 A.M. to 6 P.M. with short halts of ten minutes every now and then. This gave man and beast a thorough rest, and the opportunity was always taken of making tea and coffee, and partaking of this with the inevitable jam and biscuits. The horses, too, had a good feed of oats, which were served out in the morning and carried in our nosebags. Captain Noblett got a nasty touch of the sun two or three days before arriving at Middelburg, and the doctors decided that he ought to go into hospital there, being quite unfit to continue on the march. We were very sorry to lose him, as he was one of our most popular officers. Speaking for No. 2 Section B Company, anyhow, I know they swore by him to a man. We heard afterwards that he had gone to Durban for a change, and it is to be hoped he will soon be back again with us. The fourth day’s march brought us in contact with General Hutton’s line of communications, and we were apprised of the annexation of the Transvaal. With this good news we buoyed ourselves up, and brought a dreary march to a close at Wonderfontein. The Boers are whimsical at names, but have surpassed themselves with Wonderfontein, for the wonder of it is where to find the fountain? Speculation was rife, as the pools of water we saw were so putrid that the horses, though they had done thirteen miles from the last halting-place, would not drink till accident disclosed a tiny spring in a bed of sand, just deep enough to fill a coffee cup at a time. Here was the wonder, and, eureka! we had struck it. The 5th was an eventful day, for when we had marched eastward three miles a heliogram from a contingent of 90 Canadians on the line of communications solicited help, as they were hard pressed by 300 Boers near Pan station, where they had been fighting since daybreak. Files about and canter was the order, and we went back some six miles to their aid, but the enemy had beaten a retreat after capturing a small post, where they crept up through a dense fog and surprised the helpless picket. We returned to Wonderfontein, and General Mahon, in consideration of the call made on us, very generously ordered an issue of a quarter of a pound of bully-beef and a biscuit. ’Twas lunch à la South Africa, and much appreciated. Thus refreshed we continued on our march for some five or six miles, and camped for the night. Such a night we have never had. The wind blew a perfect hurricane, and it was bitterly cold. On the 6th the brigade reached Carolina, and we were in expectation of seeing a town where we could renew our diminished stock of provisions, but, alas! Carolina in Africa is very different from the Carolina of the song—
South Carolina is a sultry clime,
Where the niggers work in the summer time,
Massa in the shade would lay,
While we poor niggers work all day.
With us it was not summer time, but Massa had to lie on the bleak veldt and pretty hungry too. We found General French in camp near by us, with two brigades. A foreign commando of Austrians and Italians was said to be in the neighbourhood, and we hoped to become better acquainted with it later on.