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36. above the conical base exactly resembling the
‘Jebels’ on which one has looked with weary eyes,
day after day, through the rippling heat of the
Soudan deserts. In some parts of the Karroo these
mountains close upon narrow gorges, along which
the railway winds, and its sudden turns round rocky
buttresses seem so familiar to one who knows the
old military line above Wady Halfa that he can
imagine himself travelling once more through the
desolate Batn el Hagar towards Khartoum. To men
for whom the rugged Karroo had no such
associations with the land of mysterious fascination,
there may well have been a wearisome monotony in
the unvarying repetition of similar forms—the vast
plains whereon no tree bigger than the Acacia
horrida grows, and where the houses, if any, are so
widely separated that they only serve to deepen the
impression of melancholy solitude; the waterless
rivers, the bare brown kops. For full appreciation of
the Karroo one must have breathed its invigorating
air from childhood, and seen it in seasons of beauty
with all the glory of its summer raiment on. De Aar
Junction is no more than a huge collection of railway
sheds and equally hideous houses set in the most
barren plain of the Great Karroo; but Lumsden’s
Horse saw it busy with many signs of military
preparation for a forward movement, and so it
37. seemed to them the very gateway of the fateful
future, in the shaping of which they were to have a
hand. That night they crossed the Orange River at
Norval’s Pont, where Railway Pioneers, mostly skilled
artificers from the Johannesburg mines, under Major
Seymour—‘the greatest of mechanical engineers,’ as
Colonel Girouard styled him—were hard at work,
night and day, repairing the broken bridge, while
baggage was being transferred by the wire trolly
high overhead. Lumsden’s Horse crossed the
pontoon ‘deviation’ to a train on the farther side, and
when morning dawned they were journeying slowly
—with many precautions against possible surprises
by marauding Boers—to the goal of their hopes.
Bloemfontein was reached by A Company in the
afternoon of April 3, when they went into camp at
Rustfontein, two miles from the town, and became
part of the 8th M.I. Regiment, under the command
of that very able leader, Colonel ‘Watty’ Ross, whose
portrait appears on the opposite page. Of him
Colonel Lumsden writes: ‘No better man could have
been chosen to command a body of Irregular Horse.
Capable, tactful, with a keen eye for a country, and a
man hard to beat in the saddle, he was in fact an
ideal leader at the game he had to play. We were
under his command from the time the 8th M.I. was
formed at Bloemfontein, early in April 1900, taking
38. part in every action of that eventful march to
Pretoria, and the 8th M.I. had the honour of scouting
in front of headquarters throughout.’ After the
memorable June 5, when the capital of the South
African Republic fell into our hands, Lumsden’s Horse
were placed for some time on communications at
Irene and Kalfontein, but their Colonel, tiring of this
inaction, applied to General Smith-Dorrien for more
congenial employment. His wish was shortly
afterwards gratified, and Lumsden’s Horse, with
mutual regrets on both sides, were transferred to
another column, thus severing their connection with
the 8th M.I. and the leader whose soldierly qualities
had endeared him to all ranks. Their respect for him
found appropriate expression long afterwards, when
every man of the corps, from Colonel Lumsden
downwards, subscribed for a badge, the regimental
‘LH’ in diamonds, and this they presented to Mrs.
Ross in token of their admiration for her husband as
a commander and in appreciation of the considerate
kindness he had shown to all ranks while they served
under him. That the admiration was not all on one
side may be gathered from an incident that occurred
some time after Lumsden’s Horse were embodied
with the 8th Mounted Infantry Corps, and Colonel
Lumsden thinks justly that no better proof could be
given of the able and smart class of men he had in
39. Photo: Dickinson
his command than the following remark from Colonel
Ross: ‘Lumsden, whenever I ask you to send me an
A.D.C. or galloper, never mind sending me one of
your officers; your troopers are just the class I want.’
MAJOR (LOCAL COLONEL)
W.C. ROSS, C.B.
Some months after the severance of associations
that had been so pleasant for commander and
commanded, when Lumsden’s Horse had seen their
40. last of South African fighting, Colonel Ross had the
lower part of his face shattered by a bullet while
attacking a Boer position at Bothaville with the
gallant dash which his old comrades remember so
well. In that fight De Wet’s forces were completely
routed, and lost nearly all their artillery; but the
victory was not achieved without heavy sacrifices on
our side. Colonel Le Gallais, who commanded the
Mounted Infantry, and also Captain Williams,
formerly Staff-Officer of the 8th M.I. Corps under
Colonel Ross, were killed, while going to the
assistance of their brother-officer; and, in the same
fight, Lieutenant Percy Smith, who had gained
honours as a trooper of Lumsden’s Horse at Ospruit
when he went out with his Colonel to bring in a
helpless comrade, was wounded in the performance
of a gallant action by which he won the D.S.O.
For the sake of finishing a story events have been
somewhat anticipated, and B Company may resent
the interpolation, at this stage, of a flattering
comment that belongs properly to a later period. In
the actions from which Colonel Ross formed his high
opinion of Lumsden’s troopers, B Company had taken
its full share. Before resuming touch with the
movements of that body, however, reference must be
made to another incident in which A Company had
the proud distinction of representing the whole
41. corps. The occasion was a visit on April 4 by Lord
Roberts, who, after inspecting the company, called
out and shook hands with Trooper Hugh Blair, whose
brother, an officer of the Royal Engineers, had been
badly wounded in the Candahar campaign. The
Commander-in-Chief then made a brief speech to
Colonel Lumsden and his troopers. Of this no
shorthand note or transcription from mental tablets
seems to have been made, but its meaning is
probably expressed in the following letter which Lord
Roberts wrote to Sir P. Playfair, C.I.E., Chairman of
the Executive Committee of Lumsden’s Horse: ‘Dear
Sir Patrick,—Many thanks for your letter of February
26. A few evenings ago I had great pleasure in
inspecting Lumsden’s Horse immediately after their
arrival here. I sent a telegram to the Viceroy to
inform him that I had done so. They are a
workmanlike, useful lot. I am sure they will do
splendidly in whatever position they may be placed.
It is most gratifying to hear the way in which the
corps was raised. The sum subscribed by the public
generally is the proof of the patriotism of the
subscribers, especially Colonel Lumsden himself. You
will have seen in the papers that we are detained
here for a while until we can refit, but when this is
done we shall move northward. I am confident that
during our advance Lumsden’s Horse will do credit to
42. themselves and to India. Believe me, yours very
truly, (Signed) Roberts.’
A few days after that inspection the Commander-
in-Chief sent to Colonel Lumsden a telegram he had
received from the Viceroy. Lord Roberts’s secretary
wrote as follows: ‘Dear Colonel Lumsden,—The Field-
Marshal asks me to send you the enclosed telegram
from the Viceroy, and to say that he fully agrees with
the last sentence of it.—Yours sincerely, H.V. Cowan,
Colonel, Military Secretary.’ Lord Curzon’s telegram
said: ‘Lord Roberts, Bloemfontein.—We are delighted
to hear of your kind reception of our Indian
Volunteer contingent, and hope that they may have a
chance of going to the front, where we are confident
of their ability to distinguish themselves.—Viceroy.’
Carrying on the narrative from this point, but
leaving the lighter incidents of life in Bloemfontein
for other pens to chronicle, Colonel Lumsden deals
briefly in his diary with the remaining period of A
Company’s isolation, and brings it down to the day
when the corps was to be reunited under his
command. With natural gratification at the position
assigned to him, he says:
General Ian Hamilton is to command a division of 10,000 Mounted
Infantry, of which Colonel Ridley’s brigade forms nearly a half,
consisting of four corps of about 1,200 strong each. We are
embodied with the 8th Mounted Infantry Corps, consisting of Loch’s
Horse, ourselves, and various companies of Mounted Infantry from
43. Regular battalions, under the command of Colonel Ross. Both
Colonels Ridley and Ross are well known in India, and we are
fortunate in being under their command and in having such a
dashing divisional commander as General Ian Hamilton. Our first
camp in Bloemfontein proved a sickly one, water being scarce owing
to the Boers having blown up the waterworks and cut off the main
supply. This, no doubt, has been the cause of numerous cases of
dysentery, and our camp was shifted yesterday to a healthier locality,
with a more plentiful water supply. Strange to say, we have had an
attack of mumps among the men, emanating, we believe, from a
native servant who developed that disease on board ship. I regret to
say that Captain Beresford had to be taken to hospital yesterday,
suffering from an acute attack of dysentery; but a few days of
careful dieting will enable him to rejoin us, I hope. B Company,
owing to the congested state of the railway traffic from Cape Town
to Bloemfontein, was landed at East London, to proceed thence by
rail to join us. Transport, however, was found to be equally difficult
by that route, and in consequence the company had to march the
greater part of the way.
What meanwhile had befallen that force under the
command of Major Showers may be told in the
words of a trooper whose lively contributions to the
‘Indian Daily News’ do not seem to have been
regarded as an infringement of a rule laid down in
the mobilisation scheme by which volunteers for
Lumsden’s Horse were warned that they would on no
account be allowed to act as special correspondents
for newspapers. This regulation, like many others,
seems to have been more honoured in the breach
than the observance. Taking up the broken thread
where it was dropped some pages back, he writes:
44. At Queen’s Town we had a fairly pleasant time, except on nights
when it simply rained cats and dogs and hailed as well. Most of our
tents leaked badly, so we were rendered thoroughly uncomfortable.
The horses and the unfortunate stable pickets (I was one, and speak
from personal experience) were in a wretched plight, without shelter
of any kind. When the storms were at their worst, and picketing
pegs would not hold in the soft ground, we may have used words
that were not endearing to horses that got loose. On April 2 we were
told that the company would start on the 4th, marching to Bethulie,
waggons for our horses not being available then, but that we should
probably entrain a few stations further up. We were informed that all
superfluous clothing, &c., would have to be packed up and returned
to East London, and each man would only be allowed to take one kit
bag, weight not to exceed thirty pounds. We therefore set to work,
and cudgelled our brains trying to decide what to take and what to
leave behind—no easy task, I can tell you. However, the die was cast
at last, and we were ready for kit-bag weighing next morning.
Several of the men had evidently rather vague ideas on this point,
and, after filling their bags to a weight of forty or fifty pounds each,
had to repack them, much to their disgust. We left next day, our
destination being Baileytown, a small place about thirteen miles
distant. We were all, of course, in full marching order—supplied with
water-bottles, haversacks, bandoliers, rifles, and corn-bag. The first
three were hung round our shoulders, the rifles in the bucket on the
off side of the saddle, and the corn-bag slung to the saddle. I was
not accustomed to it; the strain on the shoulders is pretty severe;
and we were all glad when Baileytown drew in sight. This march
gave us a very good opportunity of examining the country, and as
we passed kopje after kopje it was very easy to realise how difficult
a task it is to dislodge the Boers from their veritable strongholds.
Arriving at Baileytown about 5 p.m., and finding no tents there, we
bivouacked, and found the bare veldt no such uncomfortable bed
after all. We spent the whole of the next day there, and as very
good grass was plentiful on the slope of the hills the opportunity was
taken of knee-haltering and grazing the horses. Resumed our march
45. next day; did about twenty-two miles by 3 o’clock in the afternoon,
when a halt was made at a place called Sterkstroom. Here, to our
delight, orders came for us to be sent off at once by train. We spent
a very busy afternoon unloading kits from the transport carts and
reloading them into railway waggons, and entraining horses. The
animals seem to be getting reconciled to this constant training and
detraining, and behaved very well indeed. By 8.30 we were all ready
to board the train. No more luxurious second- and third-class
carriages for us poor privates now. We were packed like sardines in
a box into three covered trucks, about forty or fifty men in each. It
was quite dark, and no lanterns were given us, or, rather, there was
an apology for a lantern in our truck, but it hardly made darkness
visible; kits and men all over the place, and little, if any, room to
sleep—a very weary night indeed for most of us. We arrived at
Burghersdorp at 11 A.M. next day, and stayed there about two hours.
All sorts of rumours were current about the close proximity of the
Boers. We were informed that fighting was expected at a station
north of Bethulie. At this latter place the troops had slept in the
trenches all night in momentary expectation of an attack. There
were said to be three or four thousand Boers hovering round in the
hills adjacent to these places, having been cut off in an attempt to
retreat beyond Bloemfontein. We did not reach Bethulie till 8 o’clock
that evening, having to wait at various sidings for down trains, of
which there were a good many. Not expecting to detrain till the
following morning, we had made ourselves as comfortable as
circumstances permitted for the night when orders were issued to
get out and encamp close by at once. In a moment all was
excitement, orders ringing out constantly, and men hurriedly getting
their kit together—an almost hopeless task in the darkness.
However, it was not long before all the men, horses, and kit were
out and on their way to camp. Arrived there, we picketed the
animals, and by 2 A.M. had quite settled down for the night. No
peace for us, however, as orders went round that we must be ready
saddled by 4.30, in case our services should be required. It turned
out to be a false alarm, however, so after waiting till 8 o’clock we
took the horses out to exercise. Bethulie, straggling along the
46. northern bank of Orange River, is just on the borders of the Free
State. The railway bridge, an eight-span one, has been completely
destroyed by Boers, and I must say they have done their work very
cleanly; five out of the eight spans have been cut right through by
charges of dynamite. Fortunately, however, there is a waggon bridge
here also, which reinforcements, coming up in time, were enabled to
save from destruction, and, lines having been placed across this, one
truck at a time is taken over. This important point of communication
is now very strongly guarded by regiments of Infantry on each side
of the river. Nearly all of us took the opportunity of having a glorious
bath in the river, and did a little amateur clothes-washing. Practice
will make perfect, no doubt, but at present we don’t take very kindly
to it. At 3 in the afternoon we got orders to saddle up in readiness to
march as an escort to 600 transport mules for Bloemfontein. The
rearguard came on with our own transport, and, as the latter only
move very slowly, they marched all night and did not arrive at
Spytfontein—the halting-place, nineteen miles distant—till about 3
A.M. Fortunately, there was brilliant light from the new moon;
otherwise the slow progress with refractory mules would have been
dreary indeed. As it was, we marched along as silently as possible,
and had the feeling that we might be attacked at any moment. The
Kaffir drivers, however, could not be restrained from shouting in
shrillest notes and cracking their long rhinoceros-hide thongs with
sounds like rifle-shots as they ran to head off wayward stragglers. All
night long the red dust rose from the hoofs of those 600 mules in
stifling clouds.
This is a most desolate-looking country, miles beyond miles
without passing a single human habitation. Towards the end of the
march, whether through sheer exhaustion or from the effects of the
moonbeams (one of our sages started this theory next day), half the
men went to sleep in their saddles. I was one of the somnolent
ones, and my horse took me several yards in front of the main body,
and I awoke with a start to hear my companions silently chuckling at
the situation. The only remedy was to get off and march alongside
our horses, and several of us did this. Natives told us afterwards that
Boers had been hanging on our flanks all through that march, and
47. the only thing that saved us was our water-cart, which they mistook
for a gun-carriage. The Boers must have changed a good deal since
then if they could be so easily deceived.
We left Spytfontein about 7 o’clock that morning and arrived at
Springfontein at 3 in the afternoon. Here the orders were for us to
start again next morning, escorting a Maxim battery of four guns to
Bloemfontein, in addition to the 600 mules we already had under
convoy. I may mention that one section of our company always
acted as advance guard, throwing out scouts in front and on the
flanks; the duty of these scouts being to search the kopjes on either
side of the road, and communicate with the main body by hand
signals should any enemy appear in sight. Starting from
Springfontein early on April 10, we did a march of fifteen miles to
Jagersfontein. Here Jim, having pity for my lameness, took my horse
to water while I, in return, prowled round and found a little house
where the womenfolk agreed to let us have tea. I was shown into
the drawing-room, which looked very cosy by comparison with the
dreary veldt. Ordered tea for six and went to gather my pals for the
feast. After I had groomed my horse, fed him, and put his jhool on,
we went off to the small house. But, alas! the tea was all gone. Six
other men had been there and declared that I had ordered it for
them. This is the first example of ‘slimness’ recorded to the credit or
otherwise of Lumsden’s Horse. At 4 o’clock next morning a party of
us went out on patrol duty among the surrounding hills. We had our
magazines loaded and in the dim morning light it was rather exciting
work marching silently along with the chance of meeting the enemy
at any moment. We stayed out till about 7 o’clock, having thoroughly
examined the surrounding country from the top of a high kopje,
without discovering any traces of Boers. After half an hour for
breakfast, we started on the day’s march, which it was intended
would be a short one of fifteen miles; but it rained so heavily about
noon, and for an hour or two afterwards, that on arrival at the
camping-place we found it to be a mass of liquid mud and grass,
and the Major decided to keep marching on for Edenburg, about
eight miles distant, in the hope that it would be drier there. But it
continued to pour steadily all the afternoon, and we arrived to find
48. our camping ground at Edenburg inches deep in water. We had no
tents, so simply wrapped ourselves in our blankets and slept where
we could. Many of us woke an hour or two afterwards, and found
ourselves wet to the bone, and in preference to trying to sleep again
we made a good fire and sat round this all night. There were a few
men of one of the New Zealand Volunteer regiments encamped here
also, in charge of sick horses, and they very kindly supplied us with
hot cocoa—a most grateful and comforting drink on such a night.
They gave us very graphic descriptions of hard times in the field.
They had seen lots of fighting, being used mainly, if not entirely, as
scouts. They told us how difficult it was to find the enemy, who kept
hidden among rocks on the kopjes and never fired till our men were
within about a hundred yards. As soon as the first shot was fired,
the scouts turned and galloped for their lives, and the artillery then
began to shell the kopjes. Next morning we saw several Boer
prisoners, among them being a lad of about eighteen, who had killed
a Major in one of our regiments while coming towards him with a
flag of truce in his hand. Near the place where we had bivouacked
quantities of buried Boer ammunition and guns were discovered. We
continued our march at about 1 A.M., and encamped in the afternoon
at a small place called Bethany. Here a night attack was expected, a
Boer commando of several thousand men being reported in the
vicinity. The men of the Maxim battery stood to their guns all night
on a kopje close by, and about thirty of us accompanied them as an
extra precaution. Cossack posts were also thrown out. Locusts, of
which we had already met several swarms on our march up, literally
covered the hill-sides here, and, getting down our backs and up our
sleeves, took some dislodging. No alarm was given, so we passed
the night in peace. We resumed our march on Good Friday, and,
reaching Kaffir River in the afternoon, encamped there for the night
with Regular regiments—Guards, Highlanders, and several others.
Camps were fairly far apart, and after picketing horses, drawing
forage, and eating our frugal meals, we had no time for exchanging
visits or getting any news from the various regiments we met at our
stopping-places. However, there was consolation for us when we
received our first budget of home and Indian letters, one of the men
49. from A Company, then at Bloemfontein, having been sent down with
them.
Up to this point the march had been across monotonous veldt,
mostly flat, treeless, and uninteresting. Here and there, where the
ground held moisture, little pink flowers of a wood sorrel showed,
and nearly every mile one came across some fresh variety of aster or
daisy-like flower with composite crown shining brightly in the coarse
grass. Occasionally the ridges were rich with clumps of heath,
scarlet, yellow, and white, but not enough to relieve the general
dreariness of distances across which one often looked in vain for any
sign of cultivation. Ant-hills and the burrows of ant-bears were on all
the veldt, and we had to wind our way among them, following no
well-defined road, but only a track, the general direction of which
was marked by a browner thread running across the tawny veldt.
Several horses blundered into the bear-holes and brought their
riders to grief, much to the general amusement. One trooper who
rode ahead waving his hand and warning those who followed by
frequent cries of ‘’Ware hole! ’Ware hole!’ suddenly disappeared, and
we heard him groan as his horse rolled over on top of him, ‘Here’s
one, and I’m into it.’ It was nearly dark then; but dead horses,
mules, and dying oxen marked the track by which other convoys had
gone. We felt glad that our transport ponies were not to share their
fate. They had proved quite useless for drawing the heavy loads in
this country, so we left them behind at Sterkstroom, sending all our
baggage-carts on by train, while we marched and bivouacked with
only the blankets and supplies that could be carried on our own
horses. It was at Edenburg, I think, that after a wet march we got
leave to go into the town, hoping it might be possible to get
something better than the perpetual ‘bully beef’ and biscuits, but the
only room we could find in the only decent hotel was wanted for
officers. However, a little man of the Derby Militia came and showed
us a small Boer ‘Winkel,’ where we got excellent tea, bread, and jam.
The Derby man said he knew where he could buy some butter,
which was all we wanted to make us happy. C—— gave him 2s. to
go and get it. We finished our meal without that butter, and the
Derby man didn’t return. So we went back to find everything in
50. camp wet, muddy, and beastly. To add to our misery, a thunderstorm
came on, and while we wallowed in slush there were empty houses
with roofs to them not half a mile off. From Kaffir River we might
easily have done the distance to Bloemfontein in one march, as it
was only nineteen miles; but there was apparently no reason for
hurrying, so we spent one more night in bivouac at Kaalspruit, and
on Easter Sunday, in the afternoon, marched through Bloemfontein
to our camp, which was three miles beyond. We only got a glimpse
of the town in passing through its central square and along the main
street, but, considering it was the capital of the Free State, I don’t
think any of us were very much struck with it at first sight. Colonel
Lumsden and A Company welcomed us very warmly. Our tents were
already pitched and food prepared, so we soon settled down in our
new quarters, A Company’s men receiving us as their guests and
treating us most hospitably.
There the trooper’s narrative ends, and Colonel
Lumsden follows with a well-deserved tribute to
Major Showers and the men of B Company, saying:
They made a very plucky march up, the officers and men carrying
nothing but their greatcoats and blankets, and sleeping out every
night in the rain. It was too much of a trial for the ponies to pull
their carts over the hilly and heavy going; and, as I said before, this
method of transport had to be abandoned, and their carts and
baggage railed up.
Considering the long and trying marches they had undergone, I
consider both men and horses looking wonderfully fit. A certain
proportion of them, however, were not in condition to resume
immediate work. Therefore, to replace these and in lieu of thirteen
casualties on board ship and en route, I have procured from Prince
Francis of Teck, the remount officer, twenty-six Argentine cobs,
which, although not up to the standard of our Indian mounts, are
nevertheless a boon to us in the circumstances, in a situation where
horseflesh is at a premium. A certain amount of kit and necessaries
had been lost by both companies during our journey here; but, it
51. being our first demand on the military authorities for such, we had
no difficulty in getting our requirements satisfied.
We are now (April 18) under orders to move to-morrow for
Spytfontein, five miles to the east of Karree Siding station, halting
for the night at Glen. There has been heavy rain for the past four
days, and it will be bad travelling, especially crossing the drift at
Modder River. I have been fortunate in being able to retain the
whole of our transport, which privilege has not been granted to any
other unit, and shall to-morrow be complete in every respect. The
men are in keen spirits, as our post is to be an advanced one and
within range of the Boer outposts.
I regret to say that Captain Beresford is no better, and will, I fear,
have to be invalided home.
52. CHAPTER VII
IMPRESSIONS OF BLOEMFONTEIN—JOIN THE 8th MOUNTED
INFANTRY REGIMENT ON OUTPOST
Long streets, ill-paved and deep in mud or dust; a
low stoep-shaded cottage with vines trailing about its
posts here and there between long rows of featureless
shops; a large market square where no farm produce
is displayed; a club frequented by British officers who
have little time to lounge; several churches of the
primmest Dutch type, with tall steeples that cut
sharply against the clear sky in lines
uncompromisingly straight; some public buildings,
pretentious without grace or beauty; on one side a
steep hill terraced with houses of which little but the
corrugated iron roofs can be seen; on the other, roads
that straggle off to level outskirts, where villas
painfully new stand in the midst of flowerless gardens
surrounded by barbed wire. These were the first
impressions of Bloemfontein gathered by Lumsden’s
Horse, and few troopers had any opportunity to
modify these impressions in more favourable
circumstances afterwards. The camp to which A
53. Company went originally at Rietfontein was within two
miles of the town, and might have been pleasant
enough if thousands of hoofs had not cut up its turf,
and the ground had not been used as a dumping-
place for rubbish which Boer commandos could not
turn to any use. Some of them had been there before
Lumsden’s Horse, and several British regiments also.
So many tens of thousands of soldiers were camped
round about the town that they may have interrupted
the currents of salubrious air which made
Bloemfontein famous in other days as a resort for
invalids. There were plenty of invalids to be seen there
in the early weeks of April 1900, but they did not
regard it as the best type of sanatorium, and men
who had to sleep in small tents on the reeking ground
of Rietfontein would not willingly go there again in
search of health. They had hardly begun to realise
how serious was the stoppage of a fresh water supply
which the Boers had cut off from the main at Modder
River. Hundreds of old wells existed in the town and
its outskirts, and by opening these enough water
could be drawn for immediate wants. But, alas! the
water had been undisturbed since Bloemfontein began
to draw its supply from the distant waterworks some
six or seven years earlier. What impurities had drained
into the wells during all that time nobody knew until
hospitals filled rapidly with patients suffering from
enteric and dysentery. Rietfontein was showing
54. symptoms of an outbreak, and so, after a week under
canvas there, Lumsden’s Horse got the welcome order
to strike camp and form a new one some three miles
farther north, by Deel’s Farm, where a clear spruit
flows over its bed of white gravel between banks that
are shaded by tall eucalyptus trees and drooping
sallows.
After days on duty, in which they were not allowed
to be slack, troopers felt little inclination for walking
the four or five miles to Bloemfontein, which did not
become more cheerful as the number of troops
increased, except for the traders, who were rapidly
getting back all they had lost by the war and a great
deal more. Officers had always the chance, whenever
they could get away from camp for an hour or two, of
pleasant social meetings at the Bloemfontein Club,
where generals, regimental commanders, and
company officers from other brigades came together
for a little while at lunch or afternoon tea and
exchanged all the rumours that could be told in a few
minutes—and they were many. It was a place of
strange meetings. Men from the uttermost corners of
the earth, who had perhaps not seen each other for
years, foregathered there, only to separate a little
later and go on their ways with different columns,
none knew whither. Troopers had similar experiences
in the streets and inns of Bloemfontein, where nearly
every regimental badge of the British Army and every
55. distinguishing plume adopted by Irregulars who had
come to fight as ‘soldiers of the Queen’ were to be
seen in a variety that seemed endless. Brothers whose
paths in life had parted when they left school, one
going east, another west or south, came face to face
in the streets of that little Free State town or rubbed
shoulders in a motley crowd of khaki-clad soldiers,
sometimes without recognising each other, until
accident gave them some clue. A rough word or two
of careless greeting, a tight hand-grip, a steadfast
look into eyes that remind the boys of father or
mother, a light laugh on lips that might otherwise
betray too much feeling, a drink together (if it is to be
had), for ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ and then with a jaunty ‘So
long, old chap,’ they part again. It is a superstition, or
at any rate a recognised custom, not to say ‘Good-bye’
in such circumstances. But if men only thought of its
literal meaning, what better wish could there be? Yet,
for all its stir and bustle and dramatic incidents,
Bloemfontein was a dull place in those days for any
man who entered it and found no intimate friends
there to greet him. Comrades they all were, but in a
rough-and-ready sort of comradeship that needed the
fire of the battlefield to try it and perchance anneal it
into something stronger than the ties of mere kinship.
But this is a thing which only soldiers understand, and
seldom even they. Lumsden’s Horse knew it not then,
but for some of them the secret was to be disclosed
56. before many days had passed, and in a form that will
never fade from their memory. Meanwhile, they went
about their duties methodically enough in camp or
took their pleasures sadly in streets where thousands
of soldiers wandered daily, finding no entertainment,
no place of resort except dingy bars, where liquors of
more than alcoholic potency were sold, and very little
change from campaign fare except at a price that
made even the necessaries of life prohibited luxuries
for a man who had no more than his shilling a day to
spend. One of Lumsden’s Horse who was sent into
Bloemfontein on orderly duty gives a vivid sketch of all
this in a few touches that are the more graphic
because they only pretend to note passing
impressions. Writing a day after B Company’s arrival at
Deel’s Farm, he shows how the men had to rub their
horses down while standing inches deep in mud. So
much rain was out of season, but South Africa is, like
other places, occasionally fickle in this respect. To
troopers it did not seem an ideal way of spending
Easter Monday, and the whistle, of which officers
made free use, must have been irritating to nerves
already overstrained, for it is never mentioned without
a forcible prefix. However, when rain ceased and
sunshine appeared for an hour in the afternoon, these
men were merry enough at a game of cricket, which,
by violating all the higher rules, must have reminded
them of similar sports in England when they were
57. boys and welcomed Easter Monday as the day of all
others appropriate to cricket. The next morning a
great cheer rolled from camp to camp, and Lumsden’s
Horse, responding lustily, passed it on to the next
without asking what the unusual excitement meant.
When they heard afterwards that troops were
cheering because ‘Kruger had surrendered,’ a strange
depression took hold of them. At that moment all the
discomforts and drudgery of a soldier’s life were
forgotten in the humiliating thought that the corps
would have to go back to India without a chance of
proving itself in battle. It turned out, however, to be
all mere rumour, though not so baseless as some of
which Lumsden’s Horse had after-experience. The
Transvaal President’s offer to negotiate for peace on
terms all in his own favour must have been known in
England then, and in some mysterious way a reflex of
it came to camps on the veldt, where troops, who had
seen plenty of the fighting that Lumsden’s Horse were
eager for, welcomed the illusive tidings with a cheer.
In its train, however, came something nearly as good
—a post bringing letters from ‘England, home, and
beauty,’ and for one non-commissioned officer at least
‘a parcel full of excellent things.’ Before he had time to
enjoy these he was under orders for Bloemfontein,
and after a ride through pouring rain he got there in
time to hear another disconcerting rumour, and to find
some of his comrades selling their kit because ‘they
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