London to Ladysmith via Pretoria by Winston Spencer Churchill

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The fact that Barton's Hill was in our possession made the Boers on
Railway and Inniskilling Hills very insecure. A powerful Infantry force
was holding the left of their position, and though it was itself being
actively attacked on the eastern face, it could spare at least a
battalion to assail their flank and threaten their rear. Covered by this
flanking fire, by the long-range musketry, and by a tremendous
bombardment, in which every gun, from the lumbering 5 in. siege guns to
the little 9-pounder mountain battery, joined, the main attack was now
launched. It proceeded simultaneously against Railway Hill, Inniskilling
Hill, and the neck between them, but as the general line was placed
obliquely across the Boer front, the attack fell first on Railway Hill
and the neck.

The right battalions drew up in many long lines on the sides of the
river gorge. Then men began gradually to work their way upwards, until
all the dead patches of ground and every scrap of cover sheltered a
fierce little group. Behind the railway embankment, among the rocks, in
the scrub, in a cutting, near a ruined house, clusters of men eagerly
awaited the decisive moment: and all this time more than seventy guns
concentrated their fire on the entrenchments, scattering the stones and
earth high in the air. Then, suddenly, shortly after four o'clock, all
further attempts at advancing under cover were abandoned, and the
Lancashire Brigade marched proudly into the open ground and on the
enemy's works. The Mauser musketry burst forth at once, and the bullets,
humming through the assaulting waves of infantry, reached us on our
hillside and wounded a trooper in spite of the distance. But, bullets or
no bullets, we could not take our eyes off the scene.

The Lancashire Brigade advanced on a wide front. Norcott's Riflemen were
already prolonging their line to the right. The Boer fire was dispersed
along the whole front of attack, instead of converging on one narrow
column. The assault was going to succeed. We stood up on our rocks.
Bayonets began to glitter on the distant slope. The moving lines
increased their pace. The heads of the Boers bobbing up and down in
their trenches grew fewer and fewer. They knew the tide was running too
strongly. Death and flight were thinning their ranks. Then the sky-line
of Railway Hill bristled with men, who dropped on their knees forthwith
and fired in particular haste at something that was running away down
the other side. There was the sound of cheering. Railway Hill was ours.
I looked to the left.

The neck between the hills was lined with trenches. The South Lancashire
Regiment had halted, pinned to the ground by the Boer fire. Were they
going to lose the day for us when it was already won? The question was
soon answered. In an instant there appeared on the left of the Boer
trench a dozen--only a dozen--violent forms rushing forward. A small
party had worked their way to the flank, and were at close quarters with
cold steel. And then--by contrast to their former courage--the valiant
burghers fled in all directions, and others held out their rifles and
bandoliers and begged for mercy, which was sometimes generously given,
so that by the time the whole attack had charged forward into the
trenches there was a nice string of thirty-two prisoners winding down
the hill: at which token of certain victory we shouted loudly.

Inniskilling Hill alone remained, and that was almost in our hands. Its
slopes were on three sides alive with the active figures of the Light
Brigade, and the bayonets sparkled. The hill ran into a peak. Many of
the trenches were already deserted, but the stone breastwork at the
summit still contained defenders. There, painted against the evening
sky, were the slouch hats and moving rifles. Shell after shell exploded
among them: overhead, in their faces, in the trench itself, behind them,
before them, around them. Sometimes five and six shells were bursting on
the very apex at the same instant. Showers of rock and splinters fell on
all sides.

Yet they held their ground and stayed in greater peril than was ever
mortal man before. But the infantry were drawing very near. At last the
Dutchmen fled. One, a huge fellow in a brown jersey, tarried to spring
on the parapet and empty his magazine once more into the approaching
ranks, and while he did so a 50 lb. lyddite shell burst, as it seemed,
in the midst of him, and the last defender of Inniskilling Hill
vanished.

Then the artillery put up their sights and began to throw their shells
over the crest of hill and ridge, so that they might overtake fugitives.
The valleys behind fumed and stewed. Wreaths of dust and smoke curled
upward. The infantry crowned the trenches all along the line, some
firing their rifles at the flying enemy, others beckoning to nearer folk
to surrender, and they all cheered in the triumph of successful attack
till the glorious sound came down to us who watched, so that the whole
army took up the shout, and all men knew that the battle of Pieters was
won.

Forthwith came orders for the cavalry to cross the river, and we mounted
in high expectation, knowing that behind the captured hill lay an open
plain stretching almost to the foot of Bulwana. We galloped swiftly down
to the pontoon bridge, and were about to pass over it, when the
General-in-Chief met us. He had ridden to the other bank to see for
himself and us. The Boer artillery were firing heavily to cover the
retreat of their riflemen. He would not allow us to go across that night
lest we should lose heavily in horses. So the brigade returned
disappointed to its former position, watered horses, and selected a
bivouac. I was sent to warn the Naval Battery that a heavy
counter-stroke would probably be made on the right of Barton's Brigade
during the night, and, climbing the spur of Monte Cristo, on which the
guns were placed, had a commanding view of the field.

In the gathering darkness the Boer artillery, invisible all day, was
betrayed by its flashes. Two 'pom-poms' flickered away steadily from the
direction of Doorn Kloof, making a regular succession of small bright
flame points. Two more guns were firing from the hills to our left.
Another was in action far away on our right. There may have been more,
but even so it was not much artillery to oppose our eleven batteries.
But it is almost an open question whether it is better to have many guns
to shoot at very little, or few guns to shoot at a great deal; hundreds
of shells tearing up the ground or a dozen plunging into masses of men.
Personally, I am convinced that future warfare will be to the few, by
which I mean that to escape annihilation soldiers will have to fight in
widely dispersed formations, when they will have to think for
themselves, and when each must be to a great extent his own general; and
with regard to artillery, it appears that the advantages of defensive
action, range, concealment, and individual initiative may easily
counterbalance numbers and discipline. The night fell upon these
reflections, and I hastened to rejoin the cavalry.

On the way I passed through Sir Charles Warren's camp, and there found a
gang of prisoners--forty-eight of them--all in a row almost the same
number that the Boers had taken in the armoured train. Looking at these
very ordinary people, who grinned and chattered without dignity, and who
might, from their appearance, have been a knot of loafers round a
public-house, it was difficult to understand what qualities made them
such a terrible foe.

'Only forty-eight, sir,' said a private soldier, who was guarding them,
'and there wouldn't have been so many as that if the orfcers hadn't
stopped us from giving them the bayonet. I never saw such cowards in my
life; shoot at you till you come up to them, and then beg for mercy. I'd
teach 'em.' With which remark he turned to the prisoners, who had just
been issued rations of beef and biscuit, but who were also very thirsty,
and began giving them water to drink from his own canteen, and so left
me wondering at the opposite and contradictory sides of human nature as
shown by Briton as well as Boer.

We got neither food nor blankets that night, and slept in our
waterproofs on the ground; but we had at last that which was better
than feast or couch, for which we had hungered and longed through many
weary weeks, which had been thrice forbidden us, and which was all the
more splendid since it had been so long delayed--Victory.

[Illustration: Map of the Operations of the Natal Field Army
February 14th to 28th.]

CHAPTER XXVI

THE RELIEF OF LADYSMITH

Commandant's Office, Durban: March 9, 1900.

The successful action of the 27th had given Sir Redvers Buller
possession of the whole of the left and centre of the Pieters position,
and in consequence of these large sections of their entrenchments having
fallen into British hands, the Boers evacuated the remainder and
retreated westward on to the high hills and northward towards Bulwana
Mountain.

About ninety prisoners were captured in the assault, and more than a
hundred bodies were counted in the trenches. After making allowances for
the fact that these men were for the most part killed by shell fire, and
that therefore the proportion of killed to wounded would necessarily be
higher than if the loss were caused by bullets, it seems probable that
no less than three hundred wounded were removed. Forty were collected by
British ambulance parties. Of the Boers who were killed in the retreat
no accurate estimate can be formed, but the dongas and kopjes beyond the
position were strewn with occasional corpses. Undoubtedly the enemy was
hard hit in personnel, and the fact that we had taken two miles of
entrenchments as well as considerable stores of ammunition proved that a
very definite and substantial success had been won.

But we were not prepared for the complete results that followed the
operations of the 27th. Neither the General nor his army expected to
enter Ladysmith without another action. Before us a smooth plain,
apparently unobstructed, ran to the foot of Bulwana, but from this
forbidding eminence a line of ridges and kopjes was drawn to the high
hills of Doorn Kloof, and seemed to interpose another serious barrier.
It was true that this last position was within range, or almost within
range, of Sir George White's guns, so that its defenders might be
caught between two fires, but we knew, and thought the Boers knew, that
the Ladysmith garrison was too feeble from want of food and other
privations to count for very much. So Sir Redvers Buller, facing the
least satisfactory assumption, determined to rest his army on the 28th,
and attack Bulwana Hill on March 1.

He accordingly sent a message by heliograph into Ladysmith to say that
he had beaten the enemy thoroughly, and was sending on his cavalry to
reconnoitre. Ladysmith had informed herself, however, of the state of
the game. Captain Tilney, from his balloon, observed all that passed in
the enemy's lines on the morning of the 28th. At first, when he heard no
artillery fire, he was depressed, and feared lest the relieving army had
retreated again. Then, as it became day, he was sure that this was not
so, for the infantry in crowds were occupying the Boer position, and the
mounted patrols pricked forward into the plain. Presently he saw the
Boers rounding up their cattle and driving them off to the north. Next
they caught and began to saddle their horses. The great white tilted
waggons of the various laagers filed along the road around the eastern
end of Bulwana. Lastly, up went a pair of shears over 'Long Tom,' and at
this he descended to the earth with the good news that the enemy were
off at last.

The garrison, however, had been mocked by false hopes before, and all
steeled themselves to wait 'at least another ten days.'

Meanwhile, since there was no fire from the enemy's side, our cavalry
and artillery were rapidly and safely crossing the river. There was a
considerable block at the bridge when the South African Light Horse
arrived, and we had full leisure to examine the traffic. Guns, men,
horses, and mules were hurrying across to the northern bank, and an
opposing stream of wounded flowed steadily back to the south. I watched
these with interest.

First came a young officer riding a pony and smoking a cigarette, but
very pale and with his left arm covered with bloody bandages. Brooke
greeted him and asked, 'Bone ?' 'Yes,' replied the subaltern
laconically, 'shoulder smashed up.' We expressed our sympathy. 'Oh,
that's all right; good show, wasn't it? The men are awfully pleased;'
and he rode slowly on up the hill--the type of an unyielding race--and
stoical besides; for wounds, especially shattered bones, grow painful
after twelve or fourteen hours. A string of wounded passed by on
stretchers, some lying quite still, others sitting up and looking about
them; one, also an officer, a dark, black-moustached captain, whose eyes
were covered with a bandage, kept his bearers busy with continual
impatient questions. 'Yes, but what I want to know is this, did they get
into them with the bayonet?' The volunteer stretcher-bearers could make
no satisfactory reply, but said, 'Yes, they give 'em 'ell, sir.' 'Where,
on the left of Railway Hill?' 'Oh, everywhere, sir.' The group passed
by, and the last thing I heard was, 'How much of the artillery has
crossed? Are they sending the cavalry over? What the ...'

Presently came stretchers with wounded Boers. Most of these poor
creatures were fearfully shattered. One tall man with a great fierce
beard and fine features had a fragment of rock or iron driven through
his liver. He was, moreover, stained bright yellow with lyddite, but did
not seem in much pain, for he looked very calm and stolid. The less
seriously injured among the soldiers hobbled back alone or assisted by
their comrades.

I asked a smart-looking sergeant of the Dublin Fusiliers, who was
limping along with a broken foot, whether the regiment had been again
heavily engaged. Of course they had.

'Sure, we're always in the thick of it, sorr. Mr. ---- was hit; no, not
badly; only his wrist, but there's not many of the officers left; only
two now who were at Talana.'

At last the time came for the cavalry to cross the bridge, and as we
filed on to the floating roadway we were amused to see a large
fingerpost at the entrance, on which the engineers had neatly painted,
'To Ladysmith.' The brigade passed over the neck between Railway and
Inniskilling Hills, and we massed in a suitable place on the descending
slopes beyond. We looked at the country before us, and saw that it was
good. Here at last was ground cavalry could work on at some speed.
Ladysmith was still hidden by the remaining ridges, but we thought that
somehow, and with a little luck, we might have a look at it before
night.

Under Bulwana the waggons of the Boers and several hundred horsemen
could be seen hurrying away. It was clearly our business to try to
intercept them unless they had made good covering dispositions. Patrols
were sent out in all directions, and a squadron of Thorneycroft's
Mounted Infantry proceeded to Pieters Station, where a complete train of
about twenty trucks had been abandoned by the enemy. While this
reconnaissance was going on I climbed up Inniskilling Hill to examine
the trenches. It was occupied by the East Surrey Regiment, and the
soldiers were very eager to do the honours. They had several things to
show: 'Come along here, sir; there's a bloke here without a head; took
clean off, sir;' and were mightily disappointed that I would not let
them remove the blanket which covered the grisly shape.

The trench was cut deep in the ground, and, unlike our trenches, there
was scarcely any parapet. A few great stones had been laid in front, but
evidently the Boer believed in getting well into the ground. The bottom
was knee deep in cartridge cases, and every few yards there was an
enormous heap of Mauser ammunition, thousands of rounds, all fastened
neatly, five at a time, in clips. A large proportion were covered with
bright green slime, which the soldiers declared was poison, but which on
analysis may prove to be wax, used to preserve the bullet.

The Boers, however, were not so guiltless of other charges. A field
officer of the East Surreys, recognising me, came up and showed me an
expansive bullet of a particularly cruel pattern. The tip had been cut
off, exposing the soft core, and four slits were scored down the side.
Whole boxes of this ammunition had been found. An officer who had been
making calculations told me that the proportion of illegal bullets was
nearly one in five. I should not myself have thought it was so large,
but certainly the improper bullets were very numerous. I have a specimen
of this particular kind by me as I write, and I am informed by people
who shoot big game that it is the most severe bullet of its kind yet
invented. Five other sorts have been collected by the medical officers,
who have also tried to classify the wounds they respectively produce.

I cannot be accused of having written unfairly about the enemy; indeed,
I have only cared to write what I thought was the truth about everybody.
I have tried to do justice to the patriotic virtues of the Boers, and it
is now necessary to observe that the character of these people reveals,
in stress, a dark and spiteful underside. A man--I use the word in its
fullest sense--does not wish to lacerate his foe, however earnestly he
may desire his life.

The popping of musketry made me hasten to rejoin my regiment. The
squadron of mounted infantry had reached Pieters Railway Station, only
to be heavily fired on from a low hill to the westward; and they now
came scampering back with half a dozen riderless horses. Happily, the
riders mostly arrived on foot after a few minutes. But it was evidently
necessary to push forward very carefully. Indeed, it is hard to imagine
how pursuits will occur in future war. A hundred bold men with magazine
rifles on a ridge can delay a whole army. The cavalry must reconnoitre
and retire. Infantry and guns must push forward. Meanwhile the beaten
troops are moving steadily to safety.

In a little while--to revert to the narrative--the horse artillery
battery came up, and the offending hill was conscientiously shelled for
an hour. Then the patrols crept forward again, but progress was
necessarily slow. We were still six miles from Ladysmith at three
o'clock.

At this hour the Boer ambulances had been invited to come for such of
their wounded as could be moved, for since the enemy returned our
wounded from Spion Kop we have followed the practice of sending back
theirs on all occasions should they prefer it.

Anxious to find out the impression produced on the Boers by the late
actions, I hastened to meet the ambulances, which, preceded by three
horsemen carrying a large white flag, were now coming from the direction
of Bulwana. They were stopped at our cavalry picket line, and a report
of their arrival was sent back to the nearest brigadier. Their leader
was a fine old fellow of the genuine veldt Boer type. He spoke English
fluently, and we were soon in conversation.

Cronje's surrender had been officially announced to us on the previous
day, and I inquired whether he had heard of it. He replied that he knew
Cronje was in difficulties, but understood he had managed to escape with
his army. As for the surrender, it might be true or it might be false.
'We are told so many lies that we believe nothing.'

But his next remark showed that he realised that the tide had begun to
turn. 'I don't know what we poor Afrikanders have done that England
won't let us be a nation.' I would have replied that I remembered having
heard something about 'driving the English into the sea,' but I have
been over this ground before in every sense, and knew the futility of
any discussion. Indeed, when the debate is being conducted with shells,
bullets, and bayonets, words are feeble weapons. So I said with an irony
which was quite lost on him, 'It must be all those damned capitalists,'
and this, of course, won his complete agreement, so that he confided
that losing the position we had taken on the 27th was 'a sore and bitter
blow.'

It happened that two squadrons of the 13th Hussars had ridden forward
beyond us towards Bulwana, and at this moment the Boer artillery began
to shell them rather heavily. We watched the proceedings for a few
minutes, and the Boer was much astonished to see soldiers riding
leisurely forward in regular though open order without paying the
slightest attention to the shrapnel. Then several more squadrons were
ordered to support the reconnaissance. A great company of horsemen
jingled past the halted ambulances and cantered off in the direction of
the firing. My companion regarded these steadfastly, then he said:

'Why do they all look so pleased?'

'Because they think they are going to fight; but they will not be
allowed to. It is only desired to draw your fire and reconnoitre.'

The whole plain was now occupied by cavalry, both brigades being on the
move.

'Little did we think a week ago,' said the Boer, 'that we should see
such a sight as this, here in this plain.'

'Didn't you think we should get through?'

'No, we didn't believe it possible.'

'And you find the soldiers brave?'

'They do not care for life.'

'And Ladysmith?'

'Ah,' his eye brightened, 'there's pluck, if you like. Wonderful!'

Then we agreed that it was a sad and terrible war, and whoever won we
would make the gold mines pay, so that 'the damned capitalists' should
not think they had scored, and thus we parted.

I afterwards learned that the Boer ambulances removed twenty-seven of
their wounded. The condition of the others was too serious to allow of
their being moved, and in spite of every attention they all died while
in our hands.

When I rejoined the South African Light Horse the Irregular Brigade had
begun to advance again. Major Gough's Composite Regiment had scouted the
distant ridge and found it unoccupied. Now Dundonald moved his whole
command thither, and with his staff climbed to the top. But to our
disappointment Ladysmith was not to be seen. Two or three other ridges
hung like curtains before us. The afternoon had passed, and it was
already after six o'clock. The Boer artillery was still firing, and it
seemed rash to attempt to reconnoitre further when the ground was broken
and the light fading.

The order was given to retire and the movement had actually begun when
a messenger came back from Gough with the news that the last ridge
between us and the town was unoccupied by the enemy, that he could see
Ladysmith, and that there was, for the moment, a clear run in. Dundonald
immediately determined to go on himself into the town with the two
squadrons who were scouting in front, and to send the rest of the
brigade back to camp. He invited me to accompany him, and without delay
we started at a gallop.

Never shall I forget that ride. The evening was deliciously cool. My
horse was strong and fresh, for I had changed him at midday. The ground
was rough with many stones, but we cared little for that. Beyond the
next ridge, or the rise beyond that, or around the corner of the hill,
was Ladysmith--the goal of all our hopes and ambitions during weeks of
almost ceaseless fighting. Ladysmith--the centre of the world's
attention, the scene of famous deeds, the cause of mighty
efforts--Ladysmith was within our reach at last. We were going to be
inside the town within an hour. The excitement of the moment was
increased by the exhilaration of the gallop. Onward wildly, recklessly,
up and down hill, over the boulders, through the scrub, Hubert Gough
with his two squadrons, Mackenzie's Natal Carabineers and the Imperial
Light Horse, were clear of the ridges already. We turned the shoulder of
a hill, and there before us lay the tin houses and dark trees we had
come so far to see and save.

The British guns on Caesar's Camp were firing steadily in spite of the
twilight. What was happening? Never mind, we were nearly through the
dangerous ground. Now we were all on the flat. Brigadier, staff, and
troops let their horses go. We raced through the thorn bushes by Intombi
Spruit.

Suddenly there was a challenge. 'Halt, who goes there?' 'The Ladysmith
Relief Column,' and thereat from out of trenches and rifle pits artfully
concealed in the scrub a score of tattered men came running, cheering
feebly, and some were crying. In the half light they looked ghastly pale
and thin. A poor, white-faced officer waved his helmet to and fro, and
laughed foolishly, and the tall, strong colonial horsemen, standing up
in their stirrups, raised a loud resounding cheer, for then we knew we
had reached the Ladysmith picket line.

Presently we arranged ourselves in military order, Natal Carabineers and
Imperial Light Horse riding two and two abreast so that there might be
no question about precedence, and with Gough, the youngest regimental
commander in the army, and one of the best, at the head of the column,
we forded the Klip River and rode into the town.

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