Ten Months In The Field With The Boers Part 9

VI

We start again on the 12th, at three in the morning. Not a Burgher remains with us. They have all gone off in the directions of Wynburg and Kroonstad.

On the 13th we are on the bridge of the Modder River. We establish ourselves in a deserted farm, and execute some stray ducks, which would no doubt have died of hunger but for our timely appearance--a most painful end, I believe.

Scouts are sent out. In about an hour the English are suddenly sighted.

We rush to the road, and in ten minutes a barricade is thrown across it.

I am in the centre with the others. But the English hang back, and finally go off.

Towards noon we start in the direction of Brandfort, where our convoy, which was to travel day and night, is expected to be by this time. It is about 4.30 when we come in sight of the village.

There is a cloud of dust on our left, then two despatch-riders on bicycles fly past us. The Lancers!

We set off at a gallop to get to the houses before them. It is a steeplechase between us. After an hour's ride we arrive at the same time as the head of the enemy's advanced guard, which falls back at a gallop. We try to pursue them, but our broken-down horses can carry us no further.

We rush into the village, while our men hastily harness our carts. The Colonel sends us to take up a position to cover their retreat, for there are two squadrons of Lancers in the little wood 500 metres from the village. The Landdrost, fearing reprisals, comes to beg me not to fire.

I give him these alternatives--to hold his tongue or to be shot. He prefers the former, and I see him no more.

Meanwhile, C---- and Michel get down a cannon from a truck at the railway-station. The terrified artillerymen refuse to work it. But the English, not knowing what our numbers are (we are barely twenty-five), dare not attack us, and we get away in the night.

Our rallying-point is Kroonstad, the new capital of the Free State.

On the 15th we are at Wynburg. We leave it again on the morning of the 16th by the last train, setting fire to the railway-station and destroying the reservoirs. Comfortably installed in a train we made up ourselves, at Smaldeel we are invaded by a whole commando.... Six men to every carriage, with their six saddles, six bridles, six rifles, six cloaks, a dozen blankets, and some twenty packages.... Ouf!

These good Burghers, who smoke as long as they can, are without the most elementary ideas of ordinary civility of behaviour. Their familiarity of manner is extraordinary; happily, they show no resentment if one retorts in like fashion. One of them, to steady himself during his slumbers, thrusts his foot--and such a foot!--into the pocket of C----'s coat. C----, put quite at his ease by this proceeding, does not hesitate to increase the comfort of his own position by a reciprocal thrusting of his foot into the waistcoat of his sympathetic _vis-a-vis_. They form a touchingly fraternal group, and in this position they sleep for ten hours. At every sudden stoppage, the rounded paunch of the good Burgher acts as a buffer, deadening the violence of the jolt for my friend.

My _vis-a-vis_--I had almost said my opponent--much more formal, is content to plant a bag on my knees, and a box on my feet.... How beautiful is the simplicity of rustic manners!

At last, on March 17, we reach Kroonstad and establish our camp there.

We take advantage of this sojourn to pursue the education of our 'boys.'

In consequence of our having 'chummed' with other comrades, our suite has taken on alarming proportions; we look like a company of slave-dealers.

The biggest and oldest of our boys is called John. He seems to have an inordinate affection for straws, with which he delights to adorn the calves of his legs.

The second is also called John; he is one of the best. We have christened him 'Cook,' in allusion to his functions. An old stove, found in a house that had been burnt, gives him quite an important air when he prepares our meals.

The third is called Charlie. He is very intelligent, an excellent mule-driver, but a thorough rascal.

The fourth, who is chocolate-coloured, is good at guarding the mules at the pasture. He is called 'Beguini,' which means little.

The fifth is not of much use for anything, but he is very fond of his master, a sympathetic survivor of 'Fort Chabrol.'

The sixth belongs to no one. But noting that his compatriots seem happy enough with us, he has established himself in our kitchen, and serves us more or less like the others.

The Walsh River, a very remarkable stream, for there is water in it,[#]

flows past Kroonstad, and we occupy our leisure moments with the bucolic occupation of fishing.

[#] Most of the rivers are dried up in summer-time.

All the members of the Government have a.s.sembled at Kroonstad; the two Presidents, the generals, the military attaches, and Colonel de Villebois-Mareuil are present at their deliberations.

There seems to be a tendency to energetic measures. A martial law decreeing the death-penalty against deserters is pa.s.sed and proclaimed.

Unfortunately, it was never enforced. The confidence of the Burghers has been somewhat shaken. The Executive begins to understand that he who foretold the consequences of their blunders so unerringly may perhaps be able to remedy them.

On the 20th, accordingly, Colonel de Villebois-Mareuil is appointed Vecht-General, and all the Europeans are placed under his command. But scarcely had this just and intelligent resolution been pa.s.sed, when jealousy, pride, and fear of seeing a stranger succeed where they themselves had failed took possession of the Burghers, and the orders to concentrate were never carried out.

It is much to be regretted that sentiments so injurious to the national cause should have deprived the Government of the inestimable services that might have been rendered by a corps of 1,500 or 2,000 resolute Europeans, all formerly soldiers, under the command of a man of the science, the valour, and the worth of General de Villebois-Mareuil.

Nevertheless, about 200 men of all nationalities, drawn by the confidence such a leader alone could inspire, came of their own free will to place themselves under his orders. With these he organized the 'European Legion.' It included the two divisions of the French corps, a Dutch corps, and a German corps.

Everything General de Villebois asked for was promised, but nothing was carried out. His plan consisted primarily of raids like those which marked the War of Secession.

On the 20th he addressed this stirring proclamation to us and to those who were scattered further afield:

'_To the Legionaries who have known me as their comrade:_

'Officers, non-commissioned officers, and soldiers! I know you have not forgotten me, and that we understand each other, hence this appeal to you.

'We see around us a worthy people, who are threatened with the loss of their rights, their property, and their liberty, for the satisfaction of a handful of capitalists.

'The blood which flows in the veins of this people is partly French blood. France, therefore, owes them some manifestation of sympathy.

'You are men whose martial temperaments, to say nothing of the great obligations of nationality, have brought together under the banner of this people. May success and victory attend their flag! I know you as the ideal type of a corps made for attack, and ignorant of retreat.'

Influenced mainly by the unfriendly att.i.tude of certain generals to whom his promotion had given umbrage, Villebois determined to strike a great blow in all haste.

Without waiting to complete the organization of the Legion, he formed us into a corps of 100 men, which he made up by the addition of twenty-five Afrikanders, under Field-Cornet Coleman; and as soon as the cartload of dynamite he had been awaiting arrived, he set out on the 24th, at eight o'clock in the evening.

His parting orders to me were to hold myself in readiness, with the rest of the men (about 100) and the new arrivals, for Sat.u.r.day next, March 31, and to collect horses and provisions. On the 31st, he would come back and explain the second part of the operation he was then beginning.

Absolute secrecy was preserved as to the object of his expedition. To Breda's question as to the direction he proposed to take, he replied: 'To the right.'

Our poor General was very nervous. On March 23, the eve of his departure, he telegraphed to a wounded friend who was returning to France: 'You, at least, know your fate, whereas I am uncertain what lies before me!' A dark presentiment, perhaps. In any case, what melancholy underlies that short phrase! I do not say _discouragement_, for there are some stout hearts who know not the feeling, and Villebois was of these.

Two days after, one of my men returned in the evening; his horse had broken down on the road. They had made a very rapid march, taking only four hours' rest at night and four in the day, in two fractions.

Nevertheless, after thirty-six hours of marching at this rate, this man, unmounted, and separated from the rest of the column, had found a horse in a kraal, and had been able to return to Kroonstad in two hours.

Where then had the guide led them? If I could have communicated with the General, I would have warned him, but this was out of the question.

On the 31st, there was no news; on the 1st, 2nd and 3rd of April, still none. On the 4th, after a notice from Colonel Maximoff, our detachment moved to Brandfort.

We are at a loss to account for the delay in the return of our comrades.

But in a campaign delays are so common, the unexpected happens so constantly, that our anxiety is not very great.

The special train that takes us to Smaldeel consists of fifty-three coaches, the number found necessary for the men, waggons, and horses of our contingent. We found that the railway had been cut beyond Smaldeel, and we were obliged to go on to Brandfort by the road.