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Page 9
[Illustration: General Botha's train leaves the Orange Free State after
the crushing of the Rebellion]
[Illustration: Exhausted Troops after defeating De Wet in the Orange
Free State]
It fell to me to be a horse-holder (one man in each section is, of
course, a horse-holder when mounted infantry are in action) in this
fight. In nightmare I have passed that evening since--and wakened
quickly, too. The worst of rifle fire is that you can hear bullets
whizzing and spitting in trees, but it takes an experienced hand to
divine direction. It was only afterwards I found out that a party of
rebels were firing on our horses in rear. The horses knew it, though,
and shewed it in their eyes. The sun came watery through the clouds
just before sunset; I remember during the lulls in the wicked coughs of
rifle fire hearing doves cooing gently in the sun-pierced trees.
[Illustration: Leaving Pretoria. General Botha's Bodyguard departing]
[Illustration: Kits aboard. The Troops departing for the Front]
[Illustration: Camp of the Bodyguard at Groote Schuur]
When darkness fell we had captured Fourie, his brother and all his
following, except nine men who made their escape at the beginning of
the fight. The loyalist casualties in this action were twelve killed
and twenty-four wounded. I saw a man who had shared a last cigarette
with me as we rode into the action that afternoon lying dead on a
blanket three hours later. In that instant I learnt something of the
true meaning of war.
There are hundreds of brave deeds that must go unrecognised in these
days. But from what I know of this particular action there was an
amount of gallantry and quiet heroism displayed amongst the fellows
that deserved more than casual comment. I could speak of things I saw,
and would like to, moreover. But as for my pains a punched head from
outraged modesty would be the reward I shall say no more.
A few days later Fourie was tried by court-martial, convicted, and shot
at dawn. In the last days of December the few remaining rebels at large
either surrendered or were captured. As the last days of the Old Year
slipped by, rebellion within the Union of South Africa died out, and
General Botha spent the holidays in peace on his farm at Rusthof--in
the haven where he fain would be.
PART II
THE CAMPAIGN OF SOUTH-WEST AFRICA
SECTION I
THE PRELIMINARY CANTER
At the stroke of seven on the evening of January 13, 1915, a train
steamed out of Pretoria station to the accompaniment of roars of
cheering. And few in the imposing string of carriages that made the
train were sober within the meaning of the act. But everyone was in the
highest spirits. The Rebellion was over. The New Year was with us.
After weary days our real business was on hand. We were off to German
West at last.
We reached Cape Town on the 15th. I am particular about the date, not
entirely as a result of a desire for meticulous accuracy. All who
started on the South-West Campaign will remember their Cape Peninsula
experience after the heat and burden of the Rebellion. The authorities
might have chosen most of our camping grounds about Cape Town with the
genial purpose of providing a kind of military holiday as a preliminary
canter to the campaign proper. The unit to which I was attached had its
temporary resting place on the slopes of Table Mountain at Groote
Schuur, on the Rhodes Estate. And I fancy the world has on its vast
surface few spots more alluring and more bracing to the spirit.
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