From Aldershot to Pretoria

by William E. Sellers

'But before very long we were at liberty again. A flag of truce had been sent out by General White, expostulating with the Boer general, and resulted in the general in question—General Erasmus—galloping up to tell us we were at liberty to continue our work, only we must be as quick about it as possible. Fifty-one wounded men we found, three of them officers, and nine killed, of whom one was an officer. At the foot of the hill that they had won we buried them, marking the place where they lay with stones heaped over the grave in the form of a cross. Then we wearily returned to camp, for by then the day was far spent, and we had had nothing to eat since dawn. That night I was again called to perform the sad ceremony of burial. Four men had died of their wounds during the day, and in darkness it had to be done, for the cemetery is within reach of the enemy's guns, and we feared to show a light, lest it should "draw fire." So I recited as much of the Burial Service as I could remember, and offered an extemporary prayer. It was a strange experience thus to bury our comrades by stealth; but, alas! during these latter days it has ceased to seem strange, because of its frequency.'

Work in Ladysmith Town.

Meanwhile in the town, and sometimes with the soldiers in the fight, Mr. Cawood and Mr. Hardy were rendering splendid service. Mr. Cawood kept in good health throughout, but when, on the relief of Ladysmith, the President of the South African Conference (Rev. W. Wynne) visited the town, he reported that Mr. Cawood looked ten years older. No wonder that such was the case, for he was in labours more abundant, and nothing was too mean or trivial for him to perform. Such was also the case with Mr. Hardy. He did not seem to know fear. Brave when the bullets fell thick, he was just as brave in the midst of the strain of hospital work. He was but a visitor in the town, and had no official connection with either troops or civilian church. But he turned his hand to anything, and when the hospitals were crowded and workers were few, he actually had himself appointed a hospital orderly, and performed the meanest and most loathsome duties of the hospital nurse. He kept in good health to the last, and then almost every disease seemed to come upon him at once. For long he lay in the agonies of enteric fever, and almost lost his life. But he counted that not too great a gift for his Master and his country. We honour them both—the old veteran and the young missionary. In fact, where all were brave and devoted, it is invidious to pick out one or two of these devoted men for special mention. Each in his own special sphere tried bravely to do his duty. Meanwhile the town was becoming full of enteric cases, for Intombi camp had no further accommodation, and only the most serious cases could be sent there. The churches were then, as already intimated, utilised as hospitals, and it was in them that the chaplains left in Ladysmith and with the soldiers performed their ministry of love. Most of these buildings at some time or other felt the force of the Boer shells, and the native minister's house by the side of the Wesleyan church was shattered. He, poor fellow, lost both wife and child during the siege, and himself was laid low by enteric fever.

Terrible Scenes at Intombi Hospital.

But let us return to Intombi. Slowly the average number of cases was increasing. Daily at 9.30 the mournful procession passed to the cemetery. That cemetery contained at last about seven hundred bodies. Every grave was marked and numbered. Mr. Hordern began this work, but when his health failed, Mr. Murray continued and completed it. So that there is a strict record left of every one lying there, and any one wishing to erect a tombstone can do so. Such service as this was thoughtful indeed, and friends at home will greatly appreciate it.

For three weeks at Intombi they were on quarter rations. Then, as Buller's guns were heard in the distance, they were allowed half rations; but on Ash Wednesday morning, the morning of relief, they were reduced to quarter rations again. What this meant who can tell? How could they resist disease? There are horrors over which we throw a veil. Sufficient that they were necessary horrors—that they could not be prevented. But only the doctors and the chaplains know what our men passed through in Intombi camp. But no one complained—that was the wonder of it. 'Oh! sir, when do you think Buller will get through?' was the nearest to complaint ever heard. They suffered and they died, but they murmured not.

'The Way He was Absent-minded was that He Forgot Himself!'

Listen to what Mr. Hordern has to say about it:—

'Every morning they had the awful procession of dead carried down to the cemetery, each man sewn up in his own blanket, and reverently buried, each man having done his duty and laid down his life for his Queen and country. And the brave old Tommy Atkins was called "an absent-minded beggar," a fine title itself, though it referred to him in the wrong way. He was not absent-minded, for he had a warm corner in his heart for those at home. The way he was absent-minded, was that he forgot himself. I knew one man who had two or three letters from home, which he carried about in his pocket, and although he longed to read them again, he dare not do so because, he said, he should break down if he did. The boys never forgot their homes. There was one dead soldier, a poor lad of the Irish Fusiliers, who was shot through the body, and afterwards in searching his clothes they found a letter ready written and addressed to his mother. He hadn't a chance of posting it. He was not an absent-minded beggar. He didn't forget to write to his mother. When they pulled his letter from his pocket, it was impossible to post it, as it was covered with his blood. I re-addressed it and sent it off to the dead soldier's mother.'