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Page 14
Around Riet, the principal point of attack and defence, the disposition
of the Germans was as strong as it is possible to imagine. My sketch of
the place should give a fair idea of things. In the technical sense it
is not a true plan; but accuracy is not sacrificed to clearness. The
veld around the Riet water-holes is just a mass of small kopjes and
rocks; it narrows to a small defile that opens suddenly on to the
coverless Husab Road. This defile is the only main approach to the Riet
wells, and it is commanded close up on both flanks--on the right by the
great bare kopje, Langer Heinreich, on the other by small kopjes and a
line of ridges.
In attacking this position General Botha had to consider not only the
enemy's strength of position, but also the fact that his troops had to
go into action after a waterless twenty-odd mile trek over the desert.
As the Commander-in-Chief got up to his front on the 20th the big guns
had started. The artillery duel continued well into the afternoon.
Every credit is due to the other units, but it was our artillery that
cracked the nut at Riet. The range was 2,700 yards; but the Germans
never got it. Why it is difficult to say; they had every advantage, and
one understands that the Germans are nothing if not artillerists. But
they were a wash-out at Riet; they were over-firing the whole time. On
the other hand, the Union gunners got the range at once and were all
over the enemy. They put an ammunition wagon out of action after three
shots, and did further deadly work. That afternoon General Botha sent a
detachment out to attempt an enveloping movement. But they came back
later, reporting that the slopes of Langer Heinreich on the right and
the sharp kopjes on the left made the thing impossible.
As the afternoon came on I may say I don't think we knew too much about
the state of affairs with the enemy, and when he ceased artillery fire
about 3.30 p.m. everyone seemed pleased enough. Few knew then that the
German Commander had begun to evacuate the position; his supply of
shells was said to have run short. On account of our numbers, also, he
feared an enfilading movement on his left flank should our mounted
infantry advance to the defile Q.
In the meantime the authorities had decided we must find water in the
rear; for that purpose a party was at once despatched to Gawieb, in the
Swakop River bed. It was found by a party from the Commander-in-Chief's
Bodyguard, and at the Gawieb Hole the greater part of the forces
watered that night. And they took seven hours to do it.
Before sundown General Botha, with Staff and Bodyguard, fell back two
miles on the Husab-Riet Road and camped there for the night. Scarcely
had the Headquarters party arrived before news came that the enemy was
in precipitate flight, had evacuated Riet and had blown up his small
ammunition and railway water-tanks at the Riet terminus of the narrow
gauge railway line to Jakalswater. Bodies of the Union troops had
occupied Riet on the evening of the 20th.
The actions at the Jakalswater and Pforte fronts, to fight which the
columns had swept away to our left the night before, were equally
successful.
That is the general story of the fight of the 20th March on the inland
edge of the Namib Desert. But how to picture vividly the scene before
Riet that day? At dawn in those parts conditions are bearable enough;
the sun has little strength; the night wind refreshes. From 6.30 till
10 o'clock the desert is endurable. Then comes the change. All along
the front the stark yellow sand is taking on a different hue under the
climbing sun rays. It turns almost to glaring whiteness all around--to
where it stops short at the foot of those scorched and smothered rocks
on the left flank. To our right the members of the Headquarters Staff
are standing--sitting--resting. An officer brings his glasses down
slowly, blinks, feels for a pipe, lights it. Another moves head and
extended arm to the right and makes a remark to a colleague. Along the
ridge we occupy the Bodyguard are standing-to and watching the action;
you see that fellow wearily ease a heavy bandolier; further down
another brings an army biscuit from his haversack and breaks it on his
boot.
And now look at that little group almost straight ahead of us; as the
tall Chief-of-Staff moves aside you see a figure on a little camp
stool. The left hand is just under the hip, binoculars are in the
right; up go both hands with the glasses; down they come. He speaks to
the Chief-of-Staff; there is the favourite gesture--the arm is jerked
out horizontally, the hand pointing loosely, and dropped again. The
face is powdered with fine sand and dust; during the day he has been
allowed a small beaker of water from the artillery. A favour indeed.
That is Botha--Louis Botha, Commander-in-Chief, the man who leads us.
And on either flank, well screened, little knots of men are grouped
round the guns--and "Hampang-ky-yao!" they go in our ears, their report
carrying ten miles back into the desert where our transport hears them
in muffled thunder. And look up as you hear that screeching whistle.
The enemy's shells burst in the depression behind us on both flanks--
"Pa-ha-ha." They look like slabs of cotton wool against the brazen blue
sky. And all afternoon the heat strikes up at you overpowering, like
the breath of a wild animal. Then the wind rises, and the sand shifts
in eddies. Veils and goggles are useless. They can't keep out that
spinning curtain of grit. The horses rattle the hard, dry bits in their
mouths, trying to get some moisture.
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