Part 5 (1/2)
The movements of the English were most narrowly watched. No act of theirs escaped our notice.--Where in the world can be found better scouting than among the Boers?--And so it was seen that the English were placing guns on Swart Kop, a wooded hill on the south bank of the Tugela, somewhat to the east of Potgieter's Drift.
It was now clear to all that the enemy would attempt to break through somewhere in the mountains of Spion Kop. We did not have to wait long.
On the 16th it was seen that troops and heavy guns were being brought through the river at Potgieter's Drift. At the same time large numbers of troops were proceeding through Trichaard's Drift, and everybody knew that matters would soon come to a head. And so it proved.
Early on the following morning, 17th January, the cannon--great naval guns--began to roar from Swart Kop, and the eight days' battle of Spion Kop had commenced.
Soon now the troops pa.s.sed by the road from Trichaard's Drift through Venterspruit and slowly commenced to climb the hills.
A number of their mounted men detached themselves from their left wing and hurried on in the direction of Acton Homes. It was clear that they must be stopped, and some of our men were immediately sent to oppose them. These men came in contact with the English on the following day, and fell into an ambush.
Believing the English to be still ahead, they found themselves attacked in front and on their flank. They hastily took up position on a kopje and defended themselves for a time with unparalleled gallantry. There were some of them who wanted to hoist the white flag when they found themselves in a fearful cross fire; but the others declared that they would shoot the first man who did so. Field-Cornet Mentz--better known by his _nom de plume_ of Mordecai--fought like a lion. But he received a mortal wound and sank to the earth to rise no more. After this our men, overpowered by superior numbers, were forced to yield. Several more had been killed and others wounded, and the enemy took twenty-four prisoners.
The English did not advance any farther from that point. They were prevented from doing so by the presence of numbers of Free Staters and Transvaalers in the road from Acton Homes to Ladysmith, but no fighting occurred there. The other forces, those that were advancing from Venterspruit, stormed the centre of the ranges in great numbers. They came on in two divisions, occupied some hills opposite our positions, and placed cannon on them.
Meanwhile the English cannon had crashed and thundered unceasingly since the preceding morning. The entire range was subjected to a terrible bombardment, from the Vrede positions, east of the road from Potgieter's Drift, up to our right wing on the Acton Homes road. Sh.e.l.ls of every sort and size fell fast and thick on our positions. I saw the huge projectiles of the naval guns striking the earth, and how great clouds of dust and smoke arose whenever one of these huge sh.e.l.ls came in contact with the earth. The ground was torn and ploughed up when the lyddite sh.e.l.ls burst with a terrific crash, and their yellow smoke gave the burghers headaches and made the water in their flasks bitter. The bombardment was fearful. Never for eight days long was there a pause.
Clouds of smoke constantly rose from the earth, where the sh.e.l.ls burst, and one could continually see the hundreds of vanis.h.i.+ng cloudlets in the air where the shrapnels burst over the positions.
Our cannon, although greatly outnumbered, were terribly destructive. The gunners had the inborn talent of the Boer, alike of accurate aim and of judging distances, and to this was added the advantage of military training received at Pretoria or at Bloemfontein. So they did not fire at random, and their missiles always seemed to burst just where they were intended to. Our French quick-firing and Krupp guns often demoralised the advancing troops. Our Maxim-Nordenfeldts were the especial aversion of the British soldiers. We heard from some who were taken prisoners at Spion Kop that ”h.e.l.l clock” was the name they gave our Pom-pom.
I visited the battlefield just in the middle of the eight days' battle, on Sunday, January 21, when the bombardment was at its fiercest. I found that it had often been so intolerable that the burghers were driven out of the earthworks and compelled to seek shelter behind the hill slopes.
But they had always returned and kept up a continuous fire on the advancing soldiers. I found, too, that the English had as yet always been driven back, but that their repeated attacks had not had quite a satisfactory moral effect on the burghers. The direction of affairs was, however, in the hands of Commandant General Louis Botha, than whom there was no man better qualified to encourage the burghers. Just as at Colenso, so here he rode from position to position, and whenever burghers--as I have related--were losing heart and on the point of giving way under the awful bombardment, he would appear as if from nowhere and contrive to get them back into the positions by ”gentle persuasion,” as he expressed it, or by other means.
A case in point happened on 21st January, while I was there. A few of our forts near the Acton Homes road were evacuated, and the English would certainly have taken possession of them--and thus been nearer to the attainment of their object--had not three Transvaalers remained there, and by firing rapidly, made such a demonstration that the British thought that the forts were still manned, while two others went to acquaint General Botha with the state of affairs.
It was then that General Botha once more persuaded the burghers to return to their positions; and the English did not approach any nearer there.
On the following day, when riding back to the laager, I was struck by the way the burghers were pouring in from all directions as reinforcements. I saw persons of every age going to the positions. There were amongst them boys and middle-aged men; there were even grey-beards.
And the most remarkable thing about this was that all these men had not been ordered to the battle. They came of their own accord. I thought of a text in the Bible which, when separated from its context, was applicable here, ”Thy people shall be willing” (Ps. cx. 3).
Amongst them was a youth of fifteen or sixteen, who was met by Commandant de Villiers. He was riding a chestnut pony and looked very shabby. Poor lad!
”Oom,” he said to Commandant de Villiers, ”I hear they are at it up here.” He used the untranslatable word ”spook.”
”Yes,” answered Commandant de Villiers. ”And you? Where are you going to?”
”I am going to 'spook' too,” said the boy, and rode off on his lean pony.
On the following day Commandant de Villiers met him again; but how changed he was. Instead of his dilapidated hat, a helmet of one of the soldiers adorned his head; and he, or rather his poor little chestnut, groaned under the equipment of two or three soldiers. He had three Lee-Metford rifles, several water-flasks were slung from his shoulders, and a number of bayonets hung at his horse's side and rattled whenever the animal moved. Besides this, he had also several of the small spades with which the English soldiers are provided; he had got his head through three or four cartridge belts.
”He had 'spooked' indeed!” thought Commandant de Villiers.
The attack from Venterspruit lasted for four days. It was fearful to witness what havoc our guns wrought amongst the English--especially the Maxim-Nordenfeldt.
But the British allowed nothing to baffle them. They were repeatedly driven back, and one constantly saw them carrying off their dead, and constantly they reappeared with new reinforcements. They built small entrenchments of stone and lay firing from behind them, and the sh.e.l.ls exploded and our Mauser bullets rained upon these small fortifications.
But there was no sign of retreat. The number of our dead and wounded had already reached nearly a hundred. We began to tremble as to how matters might turn out. How long would it last, we asked when the fourth day had pa.s.sed and our burghers continued to suffer terribly under the bombardment.
How long, we asked ourselves, would our burghers be able to hold out?
At last the shades of the night of the 23rd of January closed in upon the horrible scene, and many anxiously questioned what the morrow would bring forth.