With Methuen's Column on an Ambulance Train Part 3

Apart from this interchange of artillery fire the camp was undisturbed.

The trenches were of course manned day and night, but spare time was filled up to some extent by various games. Goal posts were visible here and there, and Lord Methuen had offered a challenge cup for "soccer"

football, the ties of which were being keenly contested.

We took on board a fresh load of sick and wounded men--chiefly the former--bound for Wynberg hospital. Just before we left I walked a hundred yards from the line and saw the graves of Colonel Downman, Lieutenant Campbell, Lieutenant Fox, and a Swede called, I think, Olaf Nilsen. The graves were marked by simple wooden crosses: those who were enemies in life lay side by side in the gentle keeping of Death, the Healer of Strife, for so the Greeks of old time loved to call him.

Soon after leaving the Modder the sky grew black with clouds, the birds hid themselves from view and the veldt-cricket ceased from his monotonous chirrup. Then all at once the storm burst upon us. The lightning played incessantly and sheets of rain blotted out the kopjes and the veldt from view. It was in weather like this that our poor fellows advanced through the darkness upon the Magersfontein trenches!

At Orange River we halted for some time, and somebody suggested a snake hunt in the scrub, but no one seemed very keen about this form of sport.

The "ringhals" in the veldt are very deadly. I remember speaking to a Kaffir about them and asking him if he had known of any fatal bites. He replied, pathetically enough: "Yes, sah, a brudder of me--two hours, he was dead--mudder and sister and me was there".

Near Enslin a most unhappy accident had occurred. A sentry of the Shropshire had seen two figures advancing in the evening towards his post, had challenged, and, failing to get the prescribed reply, had fired off seven bullets into the two supposed Boers, who turned out to be a sergeant and private of his own regiment. By a miracle both these wounded men ultimately recovered, but while we were at Enslin we heard that the poor sentry was absolutely prostrated by grief and horror over the unfortunate affair.

At a station lower down a lighter incident took place. A corporal from our train, a Johannesburg man, in taking a short stroll came across three Uitlander volunteer recruits. They did not for the moment recognise their quondam acquaintance in his uniform, so he called "Halt!" The recruits became rigid. "Medical inspection," cried the corporal--"Tongues out!" Three tongues were instantly thrust out.

"Salute your general," was the next order. This was too much. In the middle of a spasmodic attempt at a salute a dubious look began to spread over the faces of the three victims, which broadened into certainty as with a yell they leapt upon their oppressor and made him stand them a drink.

At Richmond Road we came across a detachment of Cape Volunteers who were practising the capture of kopjes in the neighbourhood of the line. In condoling with one of them on the dreariness of the place, he remarked that they occasionally shot a hare with a Lee-Metford bullet. This is pretty good shooting if the hare is moving. I remember hearing a Boer say with apparent _bona fides_ that he invariably shot birds on the wing with Mauser bullets. Some of his birds must have looked ugly on the table.

As we pa.s.sed through the Karroo somebody remarked that a Cape newspaper had suggested that our yeomen should ultimately settle in the country and continue their pastoral life in the veldt-farms of South Africa.

Evidently the journalist who wrote this article imagines that our gallant yeomen were all tillers of the soil. Even if they were, few Englishmen will care to exchange the green fields and leafy copses of England for the solitude of these dreary, sun-baked plains. Moreover, where is the land to come from for any considerable number of such settlers? Practically all the land which is worth cultivating in the colonies of South Africa and the two Republics is already occupied. Even if we confiscate the farms of those colonial rebels actually and legally proved to be such, I doubt very much whether the land thus obtained would provide for more than three or four hundred settlers. Enthusiasts in England who write to the papers on this topic seem often to take for granted that the farms of the burghers in the two Republics will at the close of the war be presented to any reservist or yeoman who wishes to settle in South Africa. But is there any precedent in modern times for the confiscation of the private property of a conquered people? Are the burghers who survive the struggle to be evicted from their farms and left with their wives and children to starvation? This would be a bad beginning towards that alleviation of race hatred after the war which all good men of every political party earnestly desire. There is, it is true, a certain amount of land owned by the State in the Transvaal, but if we distribute this _gratis_ to a few hundred individuals we shall be depriving ourselves of one of the few sources from which a war-indemnity could accrue to the nation as a whole.

Nothing, of course, could be more desirable than the planting in South Africa of a large body of honest, hard-working English settlers with their wives and families. But there are many difficulties to be overcome before the idyllic picture of the reservist surrounded by the orchards and cornfields of his upland farm can be realised in actual fact. The Dutch farmers of South Africa are as a rule very poor. They rise up early and take late rest, and eat the bread of carefulness, but their life is one of constant poverty. If we talk of "improvements" we must remember that irrigation in such a country is sometimes difficult and costly, and light railways demand considerable capital. Who is to provide the money for these? I doubt very much if many Englishmen or Australians or New Zealanders _who have seen South Africa_ will exchange their present homes for the dreary and unproductive routine of an African farm.

During the latter part of our run the kindly enthusiasm of the colonists was as much in evidence as ever. Offerings of flowers and delicacies were again showered upon the wounded. It was amusing to notice how truculent some of the ladies were. One of them, as she put her welcome basket through the window, remarked _a propos_ of Kruger, Steyn, etc., "Yes, bury them all, bury them all!"

After our sick men had been duly conveyed to the hospital we stayed in Capetown till the close of the year. A plentiful supply of English newspapers were lying about in the smoking-room of the hotel and it was exceedingly painful to read of the violent criticisms pa.s.sed upon our Generals. If journalists in England wish to criticise the behaviour of our Generals, let them do so over their own signature when the war is over and these servants of the Government can defend themselves fairly.

During the progress of a campaign a General has practically no opportunity of defending himself against newspaper attacks. Military success amid the surroundings of a South African campaign is often so difficult: criticism in Fleet Street is so easy! Very frequently the same man who cheers wildly at Waterloo and labels the outgoing General's luggage "To Pretoria" is the first to vituperate the same officer if amid the vicissitudes of warfare some measure of defeat falls to his lot. Military success does not depend entirely on the devotion or capacity of a commander. How cruel were those of the paragraphs which we read directed against our own General, Lord Methuen--the only British commander who had, if we except Elandslaagte, won any successes up to the present. Let the public wait before they so freely condemn a General who drove back the enemy in three successive engagements. That Magersfontein was a bad reverse is patent to everybody, but the causes of that defeat are not nearly so apparent.[C] It is disgraceful that English newspapers should, during the progress of a campaign, print letters from soldiers at the front which asperse the character and conduct of their commanding officers. Publicity of this sort strikes at the root of military discipline and common fairness too, for the public can scarcely expect a British General to reply in the public Press to the letter of a private serving under him!

The bells of the Cathedral tolled mournfully as the old year died. Would that its bitter memories could have perished with it! And then from steeple and steamship, locomotive and factory, a babel of sound burst forth as sirens and bells and whistles welcomed the birth of 1900. Yet, as the shrill greetings died away, one heard the tramp of infantry through the streets. The Capetown Highlanders--a volunteer battalion--were under arms all that night, as a rising of the Dutch had been antic.i.p.ated on New Year's Day. May the new year see the end of this cruel strife, and the sun of righteousness arise upon this unhappy land with healing in his wings! As one sits in the dimly-lit wards while the train tears through the darkness, and nothing breaks the silence save the groan of a wounded man or the cries of some poor fellow racked with rheumatic fever--at times like these one thinks of many things, past, present and future. An ever-deepening gloom of military disaster seemed to be spreading itself around us--Magersfontein, Stormberg and the latest repulse on the Tugela, a veritable [Greek: trik.u.mia kakon]! Of course, in the long run, we _shall_ and _must_ win. But what afterwards?

Will the vanquished Dutch submit and live in peace and amity with their conquerors, or will they preserve the memory of their dead from generation to generation, and cherish that unspeakable bitterness which they at present feel for England and her people? Verily all these things lie on the knees of the G.o.ds!

ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] Since these lines were written Lord Roberts has personally testified to the misuse of the white flag in the Paardeberg fighting.

[B] Cf. _The River War_, by Winston Spencer Churchill, vol. ii., p. 394.

"It is the habit of the boa-constrictor to besmear the body of its victim with a foul slime before he devours it; and there are many people in England, and perhaps elsewhere, who seem to be unable to contemplate military operations for clear political objects, unless they can cajole themselves into the belief that the enemy is utterly and hopelessly vile."

[C] _Cf._ Tacitus, _Agricola_, xxvii.: Iniquissima haec bellorum condicio est; prospera omnes sibi vindicant, adversa uni imputantur.