Part 10 (1/2)

Then followed the capture of the British convoy, consisting of some two hundred waggons, and meaning to our army the loss of about a million pounds of food. Every one was put on quarter rations, consisting of a biscuit and a half a day and half a tin of 'bully' beef. On such a food supply as this were our troops expected to perform their terrible march.

Until they pa.s.sed Jacobsdal they thought they were going to the relief of Kimberley, but all unknown to them General French's cavalry had already performed that feat, and the direction of their march was changed. It was theirs to follow in pursuit of Cronje instead. In one terrible twenty-four hours they marched thirty-eight miles, and on Sunday morning, February 18th, they reached Paardeberg. Thoroughly exhausted, the men flung themselves upon the ground to sleep, but after two or three hours the artillery fire roused them from their slumbers and the order came to advance. There was no time for breakfast, and from five o'clock in the morning until late at night they had to go without food.

The battle of Paardeberg is not likely to be forgotten by any of those who were engaged in it. The Boers commanded the left of the Highland Brigade, and as it advanced on level ground, and dest.i.tute of cover, it was exposed to a terrible fire.

Messrs. Huskisson and Darroll went into the firing line with the Highlanders. Men fell on all sides of them, and they had numberless chances of helping the wounded. Of course they had many hairbreadth escapes during this awful day, but they were abundantly rewarded by the privilege of straight talk and prayer with the wounded men, who were thankful indeed for such ministrations as they could offer.

[Footnote 7: _The Surrounding of Cronje_.]

=Relief of the Wounded at Paardeberg.=

We venture to quote a few paragraphs from a little booklet published by the South African General Mission, ent.i.tled _The Surrounding of Cronje_.

It sets forth in vivid language the heroic work done by these two in the midst of the heat and fury of the battle, and Christian men in all churches will honour the brave men who fought so n.o.bly for G.o.d in the interests of those who were fighting so n.o.bly for their country.

'During the day, as Mr. Huskisson was helping a wounded man back to the hospital, he had a very narrow shave of being shot. The wounded man had his arm round Mr. Huskisson's neck for support, and as they were walking back to the rear a Mauser bullet shot off the tip of the man's finger, as it was resting on Mr. Huskisson's shoulder.

Had there not been the weight of the man's arm to depress the body this would have resulted in a nasty wound in the shoulder. At another time the case of field gla.s.ses hanging by his side was. .h.i.t by a bullet.

'Our workers could often see that they were specially aimed at by the Boers, as the moment they raised their heads a small volley of bullets would fly all around them. Sometimes they had to lie down for long periods, on account of this. At one stage of the battle, one of our men was lying down behind a tree, and a sharpshooter was perched in another tree. If even the foot was moved an inch or two beyond the tree a bullet would come with a ”ping,” and a little puff of dust would show how keenly every movement was watched.

=Singing though Wounded.=

'While helping one wounded man, Mr. Huskisson heard his name called out, and looking round, saw the face of one of the men who had been converted in our Soldiers' Home at Wynberg, some years ago. Going up to the lad he said:--

'”Are you wounded?”

'”Yes,” said the man, ”but praise G.o.d it is not in my head.”

'A bullet had gone right through the back of his neck, and though he was bleeding profusely he was humming a chorus to himself.

'Later on a Major came up and said to Mr. Huskisson--”Do you know that lad?”

'On hearing that he did, the Major said, ”He is the most chirpy man that has been in the dressing-room to-day; he was brought in singing a hymn.”

'When Mr. Huskisson turned away from him, he left him still humming one of our favourite choruses; and an unconverted man was heard to say later on, ”A chap coming in like that to the dressing-room does more good than anything else, as he keeps the fellows' spirits up so.”

'There were, of course, many terribly sad sights--enough to make our men feel as if war could hardly ever be justifiable. One poor Highlander was lying dying, and on our men asking him if he knew G.o.d, received no answer; but on repeating the question the dying man said that he did once, but he had evidently grown cold in his love to Christ. It was _such_ a cheer to be able to point out, that though his feelings towards G.o.d had changed, _yet G.o.d's feelings and love toward him had not changed!_'

Events like these differentiate this war from many other wars. They are an eloquent testimony to the force of Christianity. They disclose the power of a supreme affection towards Christ. They declare that the most toilsome duty can be transformed by love into the most blessed privilege. They show that there is no compulsion but the compulsion of love in the Christian workers' orders, so often sung,--

'Where duty calls, or danger, Be never wanting there.'

=The Chaplains at Work.=

And now came the chaplains' work! It is not in the firing line that war seems the most dreadful. It is when the wounded are gathered from the field, and the results of the battle are seen in all their ghastliness.