CHAPTER 13.
THE SIEGE OF LADYSMITH.
Monday, October 30th, 1899, is not a date which can be looked back
to with satisfaction by any Briton. In a scrambling and ill-managed
action we had lost our detached left wing almost to a man, while
our right had been hustled with no great loss but with some
ignominy into Ladysmith. Our guns had been outshot, our infantry
checked, and our cavalry paralysed. Eight hundred prisoners may
seem no great loss when compared with a Sedan, or even with an Ulm;
but such matters are comparative, and the force which laid down its
arms at Nicholson's Nek is the largest British force which has
surrendered since the days of our great grandfathers, when the
egregious Duke of York commanded in Flanders.
Sir George White was now confronted with the certainty of an
investment, an event for which apparently no preparation had been
made, since with an open railway behind him so many useless mouths
had been permitted to remain in the town. Ladysmith lies in a
hollow and is dominated by a ring of hills, some near and some
distant. The near ones were in our hands, but no attempt had been
made in the early days of the war to fortify and hold Bulwana,
Lombard's Kop, and the other positions from which the town might be
shelled. Whether these might or might not have been successfully
held has been much disputed by military men, the balance of opinion
being that Bulwana, at least, which has a water-supply of its own,
might have been retained. This question, however, was already
academic, as the outer hills were in the hands of the enemy. As it
was, the inner line--Caesar's Camp, Wagon Hill, Rifleman's Post,
and round to Helpmakaar Hill--made a perimeter of fourteen miles,
and the difficulty of retaining so extensive a line goes far to
exonerate General White, not only for abandoning the outer hills,
but also for retaining his cavalry in the town.
After the battle of Ladysmith and the retreat of the British, the
Boers in their deliberate but effective fashion set about the
investment of the town, while the British commander accepted the
same as inevitable, content if he could stem and hold back from the
colony the threatened flood of invasion. On Tuesday, Wednesday,
Thursday, and Friday the commandoes gradually closed in upon the
south and east, harassed by some cavalry operations and
reconnaissances upon our part, the effect of which was much
exaggerated by the press. On Thursday, November 2nd, the last train
escaped under a brisk fire, the passengers upon the wrong side of
the seats. At 2 P.M. on the same day the telegraph line was cut,
and the lonely town settled herself somberly down to the task of
holding off the exultant Boers until the day--supposed to be
imminent--when the relieving army should appear from among the
labyrinth of mountains which lay to the south of them. Some there
were who, knowing both the enemy and the mountains, felt a cold
chill within their hearts as they asked themselves how an army was
to come through, but the greater number, from General to private,
trusted implicitly in the valour of their comrades and in the luck
of the British Army.
One example of that historical luck was ever before their eyes in
the shape of those invaluable naval guns which had arrived so
dramatically at the very crisis of the fight, in time to check the
monster on Pepworth Hill and to cover the retreat of the army. But
for them the besieged must have lain impotent under the muzzles of
the huge Creusots. But in spite of the naive claims put forward by
the Boers to some special Providence--a process which a friendly
German critic described as 'commandeering the Almighty'--it is
certain that in a very peculiar degree, in the early months of this
war there came again and again a happy chance, or a merciful
interposition, which saved the British from disaster. Now in this
first week of November, when every hill, north and south and east
and west, flashed and smoked, and the great 96-pound shells groaned
and screamed over the town, it was to the long thin 4.7's and to
the hearty bearded men who worked them, that soldiers and townsfolk
looked for help. These guns of Lambton's, supplemented by two
old-fashioned 6.3 howitzers manned by survivors from No. 10
Mountain Battery, did all that was possible to keep down the fire
of the heavy Boer guns. If they could not save, they could at least
hit back, and punishment is not so bad to bear when one is giving
as well as receiving.
By the end of the first week of November the Boers had established
their circle of fire. On the east of the town, broken by the loops
of the Klip River, is a broad green plain, some miles in extent,
which furnished grazing ground for the horses and cattle of the
besieged. Beyond it rises into a long flat-topped hill the famous
Bulwana, upon which lay one great Creusot and several smaller guns.
To the north, on Pepworth Hill, was another Creusot, and between
the two were the Boer batteries upon Lombard's Kop. The British
naval guns were placed upon this side, for, as the open loop formed
by the river lies at this end, it is the part of the defences which
is most liable to assault. From thence all round the west down to
Besters in the south was a continuous series of hills, each crowned
with Boer guns, which, if they could not harm the distant town,
were at least effective in holding the garrison to its lines. So
formidable were these positions that, amid much outspoken
criticism, it has never been suggested that White would have been
justified with a limited garrison in incurring the heavy loss of
life which must have followed an attempt to force them.
The first few days of the siege were clouded by the death of
Lieutenant Egerton of the 'Powerful,' one of the most promising
officers in the Navy. One leg and the other foot were carried off,
as he lay upon the sandbag parapet watching the effect of our fire.
'There's an end of my cricket,' said the gallant sportsman, and he
was carried to the rear with a cigar between his clenched teeth.
On November 3rd a strong cavalry reconnaissance was pushed down the
Colenso road to ascertain the force which the enemy had in that
direction. Colonel Brocklehurst took with him the 18th and 19th
Hussars, the 5th Lancers and the 5th Dragoon Guards, with the Light
Horse and the Natal Volunteers. Some desultory fighting ensued
which achieved no end, and was chiefly remarkable for the excellent
behaviour of the Colonials, who showed that they were the equals of
the Regulars in gallantry and their superiors in the tactics which
such a country requires. The death of Major Taunton, Captain Knapp,
and young Brabant, the son of the General who did such good service
at a later stage of the war, was a heavy price to pay for the
knowledge that the Boers were in considerable strength to the
south.
By the end of this week the town had already settled down to the
routine of the siege. General Joubert, with the chivalry which had
always distinguished him, had permitted the garrison to send out
the non-combatants to a place called Intombi Camp (promptly named
Funkersdorp by the facetious) where they were safe from the shells,
though the burden of their support still fell of course upon the
much-tried commissariat. The hale and male of the townsfolk refused
for the most part to avoid the common danger, and clung tenaciously
to their shot-torn village. Fortunately the river has worn down its
banks until it runs through a deep channel, in the sides of which
it was found to be possible to hollow out caves which were
practically bomb-proof. Here for some months the townsfolk led a
troglodytic existence, returning to their homes upon that much
appreciated seventh day of rest which was granted to them by their
Sabbatarian besiegers.
The perimeter of the defence had been divided off so that each
corps might be responsible for its own section. To the south was
the Manchester Regiment upon the hill called Caesar's Camp. Between
Lombard's Kop and the town, on the north-east, were the Devons. To
the north, at what seemed the vulnerable point, were the Rifle
Brigade, the Rifles, and the remains of the 18th Hussars. To the
west were the 5th Lancers, 19th Hussars, and 5th Dragoon Guards.
The rest of the force was encamped round the outskirts of the town.
There appears to have been some idea in the Boer mind that the mere
fact that they held a dominant position over the town would soon
necessitate the surrender of the army. At the end of a week they
had realised, however, just as the British had, that a siege lay
before both. Their fire upon the town was heavy but not deadly,
though it became more effective as the weeks went on. Their
practice at a range of five miles was exceedingly accurate. At the
same time their riflemen became more venturesome, and on Tuesday,
November 7th, they made a half-hearted attack upon the Manchesters'
position on the south, which was driven back without difficulty. On
the 9th, however, their attempt was of a more serious and sustained
character. It began with a heavy shell-fire and with a
demonstration of rifle-fire from every side, which had for its
object the prevention of reinforcements for the true point of
danger, which again was Caesar's Camp at the south. It is evident
that the Boers had from the beginning made up their minds that here
lay the key of the position, as the two serious attacks--that of
November 9th and that of January 6th--were directed upon this
point.
The Manchesters at Caesar's Camp had been reinforced by the 1st
battalion 60th Rifles, who held the prolongation of the same ridge,
which is called Waggon Hill. With the dawn it was found that the
Boer riflemen were within eight hundred yards, and from then till
evening a constant fire was maintained upon the hill. The Boer,
however, save when the odds are all in his favour, is not, in spite
of his considerable personal bravery, at his best in attack. His
racial traditions, depending upon the necessity for economy of
human life, are all opposed to it. As a consequence two regiments
well posted were able to hold them off all day with a loss which
did not exceed thirty killed and wounded, while the enemy, exposed
to the shrapnel of the 42nd battery, as well as the rifle-fire of
the infantry, must have suffered very much more severely. The
result of the action was a well-grounded belief that in daylight
there was very little chance of the Boers being able to carry the
lines. As the date was that of the Prince of Wales's birthday, a
salute of twenty-one shotted naval guns wound up a successful day.
The failure of the attempt upon Ladysmith seems to have convinced
the enemy that a waiting game, in which hunger, shell-fire, and
disease were their allies, would be surer and less expensive than
an open assault. From their distant hilltops they continued to
plague the town, while garrison and citizens sat grimly patient,
and learned to endure if not to enjoy the crash of the 96-pound
shells, and the patter of shrapnel upon their corrugated-iron
roofs. The supplies were adequate, and the besieged were fortunate
in the presence of a first-class organiser, Colonel Ward of
Islington fame, who with the assistance of Colonel Stoneman
systematised the collection and issue of all the food, civil and
military, so as to stretch it to its utmost. With rain overhead and
mud underfoot, chafing at their own idleness and humiliated by
their own position, the soldiers waited through the weary weeks for
the relief which never came. On some days there was more
shell-fire, on some less; on some there was sniping, on some none;
on some they sent a little feeler of cavalry and guns out of the
town, on most they lay still--such were the ups and downs of life
in Ladysmith. The inevitable siege paper, 'The Ladysmith Lyre,'
appeared, and did something to relieve the monotony by the
exasperation of its jokes. Night, morning, and noon the shells
rained upon the town until the most timid learned fatalism if not
bravery. The crash of the percussion, and the strange musical tang
of the shrapnel sounded ever in their ears. With their glasses the
garrison could see the gay frocks and parasols of the Boer ladies
who had come down by train to see the torture of the doomed town.
The Boers were sufficiently numerous, aided by their strong
positions and excellent artillery, to mask the Ladysmith force and
to sweep on at once to the conquest of Natal. Had they done so it
is hard to see what could have prevented them from riding their
horses down to salt water. A few odds and ends, half battalions and
local volunteers, stood between them and Durban. But here, as on
the Orange River, a singular paralysis seems to have struck them.
When the road lay clear before them the first transports of the
army corps were hardly past St. Vincent, but before they had made
up their mind to take that road the harbour of Durban was packed
with our shipping and ten thousand men had thrown themselves across
their path.
For a moment we may leave the fortunes of Ladysmith to follow this
southerly movement of the Boers. Within two days of the investment
of the town they had swung round their left flank and attacked
Colenso, twelve miles south, shelling the Durban Light Infantry out
of their post with a long-range fire. The British fell back
twenty-seven miles and concentrated at Estcourt, leaving the
all-important Colenso railway-bridge in the hands of the enemy.
From this onwards they held the north of the Tugela, and many a
widow wore crepe before we got our grip upon it once more. Never
was there a more critical week in the war, but having got Colenso
the Boers did little more. They formally annexed the whole of
Northern Natal to the Orange Free State--a dangerous precedent when
the tables should be turned. With amazing assurance the burghers
pegged out farms for themselves and sent for their people to occupy
these newly won estates.
On November 5th the Boers had remained so inert that the British
returned in small force to Colenso and removed some stores--which
seems to suggest that the original retirement was premature. Four
days passed in inactivity--four precious days for us--and on the
evening of the fourth, November 9th, the watchers on the signal
station at Table Mountain saw the smoke of a great steamer coming
past Robben Island. It was the 'Roslin Castle' with the first of
the reinforcements. Within the week the 'Moor,' 'Yorkshire,'
'Aurania,' 'Hawarden Castle,' 'Gascon,' 'Armenian,' 'Oriental,' and
a fleet of others had passed for Durban with 15,000 men. Once again
the command of the sea had saved the Empire.
But, now that it was too late, the Boers suddenly took the
initiative, and in dramatic fashion. North of Estcourt, where
General Hildyard was being daily reinforced from the sea, there are
two small townlets, or at least geographical (and railway) points.
Frere is about ten miles north of Estcourt, and Chieveley is five
miles north of that and about as far to the south of Colenso. On
November 15th an armoured train was despatched from Estcourt to see
what was going on up the line. Already one disaster had befallen us
in this campaign on account of these clumsy contrivances, and a
heavier one was now to confirm the opinion that, acting alone, they
are totally inadmissible. As a means of carrying artillery for a
force operating upon either flank of them, with an assured retreat
behind, there may be a place for them in modern war, but as a
method of scouting they appear to be the most inefficient and also
the most expensive that has ever been invented. An intelligent
horseman would gather more information, be less visible, and retain
some freedom as to route. After our experience the armoured train
may steam out of military history.
The train contained ninety Dublin Fusiliers, eighty Durban
Volunteers, and ten sailors, with a naval 7-pounder gun. Captain
Haldane of the Gordons, Lieutenant Frankland (Dublin Fusiliers),
and Winston Churchill, the well-known correspondent, accompanied
the expedition. What might have been foreseen occurred. The train
steamed into the advancing Boer army, was fired upon, tried to
escape, found the rails blocked behind it, and upset. Dublins and
Durbans were shot helplessly out of their trucks, under a heavy
fire. A railway accident is a nervous thing, and so is an
ambuscade, but the combination of the two must be appalling. Yet
there were brave hearts which rose to the occasion. Haldane and
Frankland rallied the troops, and Churchill the engine-driver. The
engine was disentangled and sent on with its cab full of wounded.
Churchill, who had escaped upon it, came gallantly back to share
the fate of his comrades. The dazed shaken soldiers continued a
futile resistance for some time, but there was neither help nor
escape and nothing for them but surrender. The most Spartan
military critic cannot blame them. A few slipped away besides those
who escaped upon the engine. Our losses were two killed, twenty
wounded, and about eighty taken. It is remarkable that of the three
leaders both Haldane and Churchill succeeded in escaping from
Pretoria.
A double tide of armed men was now pouring into Southern Natal.
From below, trainload after trainload of British regulars were
coming up to the danger point, feted and cheered at every station.
Lonely farmhouses near the line hung out their Union Jacks, and the
folk on the stoep heard the roar of the choruses as the great
trains swung upon their way. From above the Boers were flooding
down, as Churchill saw them, dour, resolute, riding silently
through the rain, or chanting hymns round their camp fires--brave
honest farmers, but standing unconsciously for mediaevalism and
corruption, even as our rough-tongued Tommies stood for
civilisation, progress, and equal rights for all men.
The invading force, the numbers of which could not have exceeded
some few thousands, formidable only for their mobility, lapped
round the more powerful but less active force at Estcourt, and
struck behind it at its communications. There was for a day or two
some discussion as to a further retreat, but Hildyard, strengthened
by the advice and presence of Colonel Long, determined to hold his
ground. On November 21st the raiding Boers were as far south as
Nottingham Road, a point thirty miles south of Estcourt and only
forty miles north of the considerable city of Pietermaritzburg. The
situation was serious. Either the invaders must be stopped, or the
second largest town in the colony would be in their hands. From all
sides came tales of plundered farms and broken households. Some at
least of the raiders behaved with wanton brutality. Smashed pianos,
shattered pictures, slaughtered stock, and vile inscriptions, all
exhibit a predatory and violent side to the paradoxical Boer
character. [Footnote: More than once I have heard the farmers in
the Free State acknowledge that the ruin which had come upon them
was a just retribution for the excesses of Natal.]
The next British post behind Hildyard's at Estcourt was Barton's
upon the Mooi River, thirty miles to the south. Upon this the Boers
made a half-hearted attempt, but Joubert had begun to realise the
strength of the British reinforcements and the impossibility with
the numbers at his disposal of investing a succession of British
posts. He ordered Botha to withdraw from Mooi River and begin his
northerly trek.
The turning-point of the Boer invasion of Natal was marked, though
we cannot claim that it was caused, by the action of Willow Grange.
This was fought by Hildyard and Walter Kitchener in command of the
Estcourt garrison, against about 2000 of the invaders under Louis
Botha. The troops engaged were the East and West Surreys (four
companies of the latter), the West Yorkshires, the Durban Light
Infantry, No. 7 battery R.F.A., two naval guns, and some hundreds
of Colonial Horse.
The enemy being observed to have a gun upon a hill within striking
distance of Estcourt, this force set out on November 22nd to make a
night attack and to endeavour to capture it. The hill was taken
without difficulty, but it was found that the gun had been removed.
A severe counter-attack was made at daylight by the Boers, and the
troops were compelled with no great loss and less glory to return
to the town. The Surreys and the Yorkshires behaved very well, but
were placed in a difficult position and were badly supported by the
artillery. Martyn's Mounted Infantry covered the retirement with
great gallantry, but the skirmish ended in a British loss of
fourteen killed and fifty wounded or missing, which was certainly
more than that of the Boers. From this indecisive action of Willow
Grange the Boer invasion receded until General Buller, coming to
the front on November 27th, found that the enemy was once more
occupying the line of the Tugela. He himself moved up to Frere,
where he devoted his time and energies to the collection of that
force with which he was destined, after three failures, to make his
way into Ladysmith.
One unexpected and little known result of the Boer expedition into
Southern Natal was that their leader, the chivalrous Joubert,
injured himself through his horse stumbling, and was physically
incapacitated for the remainder of the campaign. He returned almost
immediately to Pretoria, leaving the command of the Tugela in the
hands of Louis Botha.
Leaving Buller to organise his army at Frere, and the Boer
commanders to draw their screen of formidable defences along the
Tugela, we will return once more to the fortunes of the unhappy
town round which the interest of the world, and possibly the
destiny of the Empire, were centering. It is very certain that had
Ladysmith fallen, and twelve thousand British soldiers with a
million pounds' worth of stores fallen into the hands of the
invaders, we should have been faced with the alternative of
abandoning the struggle, or of reconquering South Africa from Cape
Town northwards. South Africa is the keystone of the Empire, and
for the instant Ladysmith was the keystone of South Africa. But the
courage of the troops who held the shell-torn townlet, and the
confidence of the public who watched them, never faltered for an
instant.
December 8th was marked by a gallant exploit on the part of the
beleaguered garrison. Not a whisper had transpired of the coming
sortie, and a quarter of an hour before the start officers engaged
had no idea of it. O si sic omnia! At ten o'clock a band of men
slipped out of the town. There were six hundred of them, all
irregulars, drawn from the Imperial Light Horse, the Natal
Carabineers, and the Border Mounted Rifles, under the command of
Hunter, youngest and most dashing of British Generals. Edwardes and
Boyston were the subcommanders. The men had no knowledge of where
they were going or what they had to do, but they crept silently
along under a drifting sky, with peeps of a quarter moon, over a
mimosa-shadowed plain. At last in front of them there loomed a dark
mass--it was Gun Hill, from which one of the great Creusots had
plagued them. A strong support (four hundred men) was left at the
base of the hill, and the others, one hundred Imperials, one
hundred Borders and Carabineers, ten Sappers, crept upwards with
Major Henderson as guide. A Dutch outpost challenged, but was
satisfied by a Dutch-speaking Carabineer. Higher and higher the men
crept, the silence broken only by the occasional slip of a stone or
the rustle of their own breathing. Most of them had left their
boots below. Even in the darkness they kept some formation, and the
right wing curved forward to outflank the defence. Suddenly a
Mauser crack and a spurt of flame--then another and another! 'Come
on, boys! Fix bayonets!' yelled Karri Davies. There were no
bayonets, but that was a detail. At the word the gunners were off,
and there in the darkness in front of the storming party loomed the
enormous gun, gigantic in that uncertain light. Out with the huge
breech-block! Wrap the long lean muzzle round with a collar of
gun-cotton! Keep the guard upon the run until the work is done!
Hunter stood by with a night light in his hand until the charge was
in position, and then, with a crash which brought both armies from
their tents, the huge tube reared up on its mountings and toppled
backwards into the pit. A howitzer lurked beside it, and this also
was blown into ruin. The attendant Maxim was dragged back by the
exultant captors, who reached the town amid shoutings and laughter
with the first break of day. One man wounded, the gallant
Henderson, is the cheap price for the best-planned and most dashing
exploit of the war. Secrecy in conception, vigour in
execution--they are the root ideas of the soldier's craft. So
easily was the enterprise carried out, and so defective the Boer
watch, that it is probable that if all the guns had been
simultaneously attacked the Boers might have found themselves
without a single piece of ordnance in the morning. [Footnote: The
destruction of the Creusot was not as complete as was hoped. It was
taken back to Pretoria, three feet were sawn off the muzzle, and a
new breech-block provided. The gun was then sent to Kimberley, and
it was the heavy cannon which arrived late in the history of that
siege and caused considerable consternation among the inhabitants.]
On the same morning (December 9th) a cavalry reconnaissance was
pushed in the direction of Pepworth Hill. The object no doubt was
to ascertain whether the enemy were still present in force, and the
terrific roll of the Mausers answered it in the affirmative. Two
killed and twenty wounded was the price which we paid for the
information. There had been three such reconnaissances in the five
weeks of the siege, and it is difficult to see what advantage they
gave or how they are to be justified. Far be it for the civilian to
dogmatise upon such matters, but one can repeat, and to the best of
one's judgment endorse, the opinion of the vast majority of
officers.
There were heart burnings among the Regulars that the colonial
troops should have gone in front of them, so their martial jealousy
was allayed three nights later by the same task being given to
them. Four companies of the 2nd Rifle Brigade were the troops
chosen, with a few sappers and gunners, the whole under the command
of Colonel Metcalfe of the same battalion. A single gun, the 4.7
howitzer upon Surprise Hill, was the objective. Again there was the
stealthy advance through the darkness, again the support was left
at the bottom of the hill, again the two companies carefully
ascended, again there was the challenge, the rush, the flight, and
the gun was in the hands of the stormers.
Here and only here the story varies. For some reason the fuse used
for the guncotton was defective, and half an hour elapsed before
the explosion destroyed the howitzer. When it came it came very
thoroughly, but it was a weary time in coming. Then our men
descended the hill, but the Boers were already crowding in upon
them from either side. The English cries of the soldiers were
answered in English by the Boers, and slouch hat or helmet dimly
seen in the mirk was the only badge of friend or foe. A singular
letter is extant from young Reitz (the son of the Transvaal
secretary), who was present. According to his account there were
but eight Boers present, but assertion or contradiction equally
valueless in the darkness of such a night, and there are some
obvious discrepancies in his statement. 'We fired among them,' says
Reitz. 'They stopped and all cried out "Rifle Brigade." Then one of
them said "Charge!" One officer, Captain Paley, advanced, though he
had two bullet wounds already. Joubert gave him another shot and he
fell on the top of us. Four Englishmen got hold of Jan Luttig and
struck him on the head with their rifles and stabbed him in the
stomach with a bayonet. He seized two of them by the throat and
shouted "Help, boys!" His two nearest comrades shot two of them,
and the other two bolted. Then the English came up in numbers,
about eight hundred, along the footpath' (there were two hundred on
the hill, but the exaggeration is pardonable in the darkness), 'and
we lay as quiet as mice along the bank. Farther on the English
killed three of our men with bayonets and wounded two. In the
morning we found Captain Paley and twenty-two of them killed and
wounded.' It seems evident that Reitz means that his own little
party were eight men, and not that that represented the force which
intercepted the retiring riflemen. Within his own knowledge five of
his countrymen were killed in the scuffle, so the total loss was
probably considerable. Our own casualties were eleven dead,
forty-three wounded, and six prisoners, but the price was not
excessive for the howitzer and for the morale which arises from
such exploits. Had it not been for that unfortunate fuse, the
second success might have been as bloodless as the first. 'I am
sorry,' said a sympathetic correspondent to the stricken Paley.
'But we got the gun,' Paley whispered, and he spoke for the
Brigade.
Amid the shell-fire, the scanty rations, the enteric and the
dysentery, one ray of comfort had always brightened the garrison.
Buller was only twelve miles away--they could hear his guns--and
when his advance came in earnest their sufferings would be at an
end. But now in an instant this single light was shut off and the
true nature of their situation was revealed to them. Buller had
indeed moved. . .but backwards. He had been defeated at Colenso,
and the siege was not ending but beginning. With heavier hearts but
undiminished resolution the army and the townsfolk settled down to
the long, dour struggle. The exultant enemy replaced their
shattered guns and drew their lines closer still round the stricken
town.
A record of the siege onwards until the break of the New Year
centres upon the sordid details of the sick returns and of the
price of food. Fifty on one day, seventy on the next, passed under
the hands of the overworked and devoted doctors. Fifteen hundred,
and later two thousand, of the garrison were down. The air was
poisoned by foul sewage and dark with obscene flies. They speckled
the scanty food. Eggs were already a shilling each, cigarettes
sixpence, whisky five pounds a bottle: a city more free from
gluttony and drunkenness has never been seen.
Shell-fire has shown itself in this war to be an excellent ordeal
for those who desire martial excitement with a minimum of danger.
But now and again some black chance guides a bomb--one in five
thousand perhaps--to a most tragic issue. Such a deadly missile
falling among Boers near Kimberley is said to have slain nine and
wounded seventeen. In Ladysmith too there are days to be marked in
red when the gunner shot better than he knew. One shell on December
17th killed six men (Natal Carabineers), wounded three, and
destroyed fourteen horses. The grisly fact has been recorded that
five separate human legs lay upon the ground. On December 22nd
another tragic shot killed five and wounded twelve of the Devons.
On the same day four officers of the 5th Lancers (including the
Colonel) and one sergeant were wounded--a most disastrous day. A
little later it was again the turn of the Devons, who lost one
officer killed and ten wounded. Christmas set in amid misery,
hunger, and disease, the more piteous for the grim attempts to
amuse the children and live up to the joyous season, when the
present of Santa Claus was too often a 96-pound shell. On the top
of all other troubles it was now known that the heavy ammunition
was running short and must be husbanded for emergencies. There was
no surcease, however, in the constant hail which fell upon the
town. Two or three hundred shells were a not unusual daily
allowance. The monotonous bombardment with which the New Year had
commenced was soon to be varied by a most gallant and
spirit-stirring clash of arms. On January 6th the Boers delivered
their great assault upon Ladysmith--an onfall so gallantly made and
gallantly met that it deserves to rank among the classic fights of
British military history. It is a tale which neither side need be
ashamed to tell. Honour to the sturdy infantry who held their grip
so long, and honour also to the rough men of the veld, who, led by
untrained civilians, stretched us to the utmost capacity of our
endurance.
It may be that the Boers wished once for all to have done at all
costs with the constant menace to their rear, or it may be that the
deliberate preparations of Buller for his second advance had
alarmed them, and that they realised that they must act quickly if
they were to act at all. At any rate, early in the New Year a most
determined attack was decided upon. The storming party consisted of
some hundreds of picked volunteers from the Heidelberg (Transvaal)
and Harrismith (Free State) contingents, led by de Villiers. They
were supported by several thousand riflemen, who might secure their
success or cover their retreat. Eighteen heavy guns had been
trained upon the long ridge, one end of which has been called
Caesar's Camp and the other Waggon Hill. This hill, three miles
long, lay to the south of the town, and the Boers had early
recognised it as being the most vulnerable point, for it was
against it that their attack of November 9th had been directed.
Now, after two months, they were about to renew the attempt with
greater resolution against less robust opponents. At twelve o'clock
our scouts heard the sounds of the chanting of hymns in the Boer
camps. At two in the morning crowds of barefooted men were
clustering round the base of the ridge, and threading their way,
rifle in hand, among the mimosa-bushes and scattered boulders which
cover the slope of the hill. Some working parties were moving guns
into position, and the noise of their labour helped to drown the
sound of the Boer advance. Both at Caesar's Camp, the east end of
the ridge, and at Waggon Hill, the west end (the points being, I
repeat, three miles apart), the attack came as a complete surprise.
The outposts were shot or driven in, and the stormers were on the
ridge almost as soon as their presence was detected. The line of
rocks blazed with the flash of their guns.
Caesar's Camp was garrisoned by one sturdy regiment, the
Manchesters, aided by a Colt automatic gun. The defence had been
arranged in the form of small sangars, each held by from ten to
twenty men. Some few of these were rushed in the darkness, but the
Lancashire men pulled themselves together and held on strenuously
to those which remained. The crash of musketry woke the sleeping
town, and the streets resounded with the shouting of the officers
and the rattling of arms as the men mustered in the darkness and
hurried to the points of danger.
Three companies of the Gordons had been left near Caesar's Camp,
and these, under Captain Carnegie, threw themselves into the
struggle. Four other companies of Gordons came up in support from
the town, losing upon the way their splendid colonel,
Dick-Cunyngham, who was killed by a chance shot at three thousand
yards, on this his first appearance since he had recovered from his
wounds at Elandslaagte. Later four companies of the Rifle Brigade
were thrown into the firing line, and a total of two and a half
infantry battalions held that end of the position. It was not a man
too much. With the dawn of day it could be seen that the Boers held
the southern and we the northern slopes, while the narrow plateau
between formed a bloody debatable ground. Along a front of a
quarter of a mile fierce eyes glared and rifle barrels flashed from
behind every rock, and the long fight swayed a little back or a
little forward with each upward heave of the stormers or rally of
the soldiers. For hours the combatants were so near that a stone or
a taunt could be thrown from one to the other. Some scattered
sangars still held their own, though the Boers had passed them. One
such, manned by fourteen privates of the Manchester Regiment,
remained untaken, but had only two defenders left at the end of the
bloody day.
With the coming of the light the 53rd Field Battery, the one which
had already done so admirably at Lombard's Kop, again deserved well
of its country. It was impossible to get behind the Boers and fire
straight at their position, so every shell fired had to skim over
the heads of our own men upon the ridge and so pitch upon the
reverse slope. Yet so accurate was the fire, carried on under an
incessant rain of shells from the big Dutch gun on Bulwana, that
not one shot miscarried and that Major Abdy and his men succeeded
in sweeping the further slope without loss to our own fighting
line. Exactly the same feat was equally well performed at the other
end of the position by Major Blewitt's 21st Battery, which was
exposed to an even more searching fire than the 53rd. Any one who
has seen the iron endurance of British gunners and marvelled at the
answering shot which flashes out through the very dust of the
enemy's exploding shell, will understand how fine must have been
the spectacle of these two batteries working in the open, with the
ground round them sharded with splinters. Eye-witnesses have left
it upon record that the sight of Major Blewitt strolling up and
down among his guns, and turning over with his toe the last fallen
section of iron, was one of the most vivid and stirring impressions
which they carried from the fight. Here also it was that the
gallant Sergeant Bosley, his arm and his leg stricken off by a Boer
shell, cried to his comrades to roll his body off the trail and go
on working the gun.
At the same time as--or rather earlier than--the onslaught upon
Caesar's Camp a similar attack had been made with secrecy and
determination upon the western end of the position called Waggon
Hill. The barefooted Boers burst suddenly with a roll of rifle-fire
into the little garrison of Imperial Light Horse and Sappers who
held the position. Mathias of the former, Digby-Jones and Dennis of
the latter, showed that 'two in the morning' courage which Napoleon
rated as the highest of military virtues. They and their men were
surprised but not disconcerted, and stood desperately to a slogging
match at the closest quarters. Seventeen Sappers were down out of
thirty, and more than half the little body of irregulars. This end
of the position was feebly fortified, and it is surprising that so
experienced and sound a soldier as Ian Hamilton should have left it
so. The defence had no marked advantage as compared with the
attack, neither trench, sangar, nor wire entanglement, and in
numbers they were immensely inferior. Two companies of the 60th
Rifles and a small body of the ubiquitous Gordons happened to be
upon the hill and threw themselves into the fray, but they were
unable to turn the tide. Of thirty-three Gordons under Lieutenant
MacNaughten thirty were wounded. [Footnote: The Gordons and the
Sappers were there that morning to re-escort one of Lambton's 4.7
guns, which was to be mounted there. Ten seamen were with the gun,
and lost three of their number in the defence.] As our men retired
under the shelter of the northern slope they were reinforced by
another hundred and fifty Gordons under the stalwart
Miller-Wallnutt, a man cast in the mould of a Berserk Viking. To
their aid also came two hundred of the Imperial Light Horse,
burning to assist their comrades. Another half-battalion of Rifles
came with them. At each end of the long ridge the situation at the
dawn of day was almost identical. In each the stormers had seized
one side, but were brought to a stand by the defenders upon the
other, while the British guns fired over the heads of their own
infantry to rake the further slope.
It was on the Waggon Hill side, however, that the Boer exertions
were most continuous and strenuous and our own resistance most
desperate. There fought the gallant de Villiers, while Ian Hamilton
rallied the defenders and led them in repeated rushes against the
enemy's line. Continually reinforced from below, the Boers fought
with extraordinary resolution. Never will any one who witnessed
that Homeric contest question the valour of our foes. It was a
murderous business on both sides. Edwardes of the Light Horse was
struck down. In a gun-emplacement a strange encounter took place at
point-blank range between a group of Boers and of Britons. De
Villiers of the Free State shot Miller-Wallnut dead, Ian Hamilton
fired at de Villiers with his revolver and missed him. Young
Albrecht of the Light Horse shot de Villiers. A Boer named de
Jaeger shot Albrecht. Digby-Jones of the Sappers shot de Jaeger.
Only a few minutes later the gallant lad, who had already won fame
enough for a veteran, was himself mortally wounded, and Dennis, his
comrade in arms and in glory, fell by his side.
There has been no better fighting in our time than that upon Waggon
Hill on that January morning, and no better fighters than the
Imperial Light Horsemen who formed the centre of the defence. Here,
as at Elandslaagte, they proved themselves worthy to stand in line
with the crack regiments of the British army.
Through the long day the fight maintained its equilibrium along the
summit of the ridge, swaying a little that way or this, but never
amounting to a repulse of the stormers or to a rout of the
defenders. So intermixed were the combatants that a wounded man
more than once found himself a rest for the rifles of his enemies.
One unfortunate soldier in this position received six more bullets
from his own comrades in their efforts to reach the deadly rifleman
behind him. At four o'clock a huge bank of clouds which had towered
upwards unheeded by the struggling men burst suddenly into a
terrific thunderstorm with vivid lightnings and lashing rain. It is
curious that the British victory at Elandslaagte was heralded by
just such another storm. Up on the bullet-swept hill the long
fringes of fighting men took no more heed of the elements than
would two bulldogs who have each other by the throat. Up the greasy
hillside, foul with mud and with blood, came the Boer reserves, and
up the northern slope came our own reserve, the Devon Regiment, fit
representatives of that virile county. Admirably led by Park, their
gallant Colonel, the Devons swept the Boers before them, and the
Rifles, Gordons, and Light Horse joined in the wild charge which
finally cleared the ridge.
But the end was not yet. The Boer had taken a risk over this
venture, and now he had to pay the stakes. Down the hill he passed,
crouching, darting, but the spruits behind him were turned into
swirling streams, and as he hesitated for an instant upon the brink
the relentless sleet of bullets came from behind. Many were swept
away down the gorges and into the Klip River, never again to be
accounted for in the lists of their field-cornet. The majority
splashed through, found their horses in their shelter, and galloped
off across the great Bulwana Plain, as fairly beaten in as fair a
fight as ever brave men were yet.
The cheers of victory as the Devons swept the ridge had heartened
the weary men upon Caesar's Camp to a similar effort. Manchesters,
Gordons, and Rifles, aided by the fire of two batteries, cleared
the long-debated position. Wet, cold, weary, and without food for
twenty-six hours, the bedraggled Tommies stood yelling and waving,
amid the litter of dead and of dying.
It was a near thing. Had the ridge fallen the town must have
followed, and history perhaps have been changed. In the old
stiff-rank Majuba days we should have been swept in an hour from
the position. But the wily man behind the rock was now to find an
equally wily man in front of him. The soldier had at last learned
something of the craft of the hunter. He clung to his shelter, he
dwelled on his aim, he ignored his dressings, he laid aside the
eighteenth-century traditions of his pigtailed ancestor, and he hit
the Boers harder than they had been hit yet. No return may ever
come to us of their losses on that occasion; 80 dead bodies were
returned to them from the ridge alone, while the slopes, the
dongas, and the river each had its own separate tale. No possible
estimate can make it less than three hundred killed and wounded,
while many place it at a much higher figure. Our own casualties
were very serious and the proportion of dead to wounded unusually
high, owing to the fact that the greater part of the wounds were
necessarily of the head. In killed we lost 13 officers, 135 men. In
wounded 28 officers, 244 men--a total of 420, Lord Ava, the
honoured Son of an honoured father, the fiery Dick-Cunyngham,
stalwart Miller-Wallnutt, the brave boy sappers Digby-Jones and
Dennis, Adams and Packman of the Light Horse, the chivalrous
Lafone--we had to mourn quality as well as numbers. The grim test
of the casualty returns shows that it was to the Imperial Light
Horse (ten officers down, and the regiment commanded by a junior
captain), the Manchesters, the Gordons, the Devons, and the 2nd
Rifle Brigade that the honours of the day are due.
In the course of the day two attacks had been made upon other
points of the British position, the one on Observation Hill on the
north, the other on the Helpmakaar position on the east. Of these
the latter was never pushed home and was an obvious feint, but in
the case of the other it was not until Schutte, their commander,
and forty or fifty men had been killed and wounded, that the
stormers abandoned their attempt. At every point the assailants
found the same scattered but impenetrable fringe of riflemen, and
the same energetic batteries waiting for them.
Throughout the Empire the course of this great struggle was watched
with the keenest solicitude and with all that painful emotion which
springs from impotent sympathy. By heliogram to Buller, and so to
the farthest ends of that great body whose nerves are the
telegraphic wires, there came the announcement of the attack. Then
after an interval of hours came 'everywhere repulsed, but fighting
continues.' Then, 'Attack continues. Enemy reinforced from the
south.' Then 'Attack renewed. Very hard pressed.' There the
messages ended for the day, leaving the Empire black with
apprehension. The darkest forecasts and most dreary anticipations
were indulged by the most temperate and best-informed London
papers. For the first time the very suggestion that the campaign
might be above our strength was made to the public. And then at
last there came the official news of the repulse of the assault.
Far away at Ladysmith, the weary men and their sorely tried
officers gathered to return thanks to God for His manifold mercies,
but in London also hearts were stricken solemn by the greatness of
the crisis, and lips long unused to prayer joined in the devotions
of the absent warriors.
