Part 13

It rained when we arrived at Tafelkop, and when we had been there a week it still rained. The only clothes we possessed were beginning to rot on our bodies. Some of the burghers had a change of clothes on the trolleys; others made themselves trousers of their many-coloured blankets, in which they cut a remarkable figure. Others, again, were in tatters, and had to disappear on the few occasions that any lady visited us. Most of the men had no mackintoshes, but always looked forward to the sunshine that was sure to follow a heavy shower. But if the rain continued, we made huts of grass, or clubbed together in the few remaining tents, or if there happened to be an unburned farmhouse, we made for that.

When the rain continued at Tafelkop, and our limbs became stiffened with the cold, some of us went to an outhouse belonging to a neighbouring farm to seek shelter. During the day we sat there in our wet clothes staring dismally out into the rain. At night we tried to warm our naked bodies by covering ourselves with the dirty wool that happened to be lying there. All the outhouses in the neighbourhood were crowded with armed burghers in tatters. On the eighth day, when the welcome sun made its appearance once more, our clothes were still dripping.

Lately we had had fruit as a substitute for sugar; but the fruit season was over now, and we had to go back to meat and mealie-porridge, or mealie-porridge and meat.

In the Moot our horses died in such numbers--particularly the 'unsalted' mares--that many of our men had to walk. On March 10 my faithful brown pony Steenbok died of horse-sickness. For over a year he had carried me through thick and thin, and I could not bear to see his suffering. A few weeks later we got another lot of horses; I will not mention how, as the information might fall into the hands of the enemy. The people who still lived on their farms often told us that the few remaining fowls instinctively recognised khaki as an enemy, and made for the hedges and shrubs whenever they caught sight of him. So here, also, Nature looked after the survival of the species. The cows taken by the enemy also made their way back to their calves that khaki stupidly left behind, and so the little children could again have milk. Even the bees were not left undisturbed; but the bee is an enemy of any nasty-smelling thing, and therefore the dirty, perspiring khakies got many a sting, and the honey usually remained in the hives.

The enemy probably thought that we were helpless in our poverty. But a Boer is not easily made helpless. We patched our own shoes and carried the lasts about with us. Horseshoes and nails we made from the tires of wheels and telegraph-wires. Instead of matches we used two stones. When the enemy have burned and destroyed all our corn-mills, we will still have coffee-mills, and when those are gone we will do as the Kaffirs do, and grind our corn between two stones--and crushed and roasted maize is very good to eat.

The old Voortrekkers wore trousers made of untanned hide. We can do the same if khaki does not supply us with sufficient clothes. Our wives and children and our exiled men we cannot get out of khaki's hands, and that is the greatest difficulty in our way.

One of the greatest advantages we have over the enemy is that we are among friends, and can move about in small troops without having to depend on a base of operations, whereas they do well not to divide themselves in too small groups, or to venture too far from their base--even in large numbers.

The services in our camp were held by the Rev. Mr. Naudé--a man who kept the courage and the moral sense of the burghers up to the mark with his meek Christian spirit. He also formed the debating club that was such a welcome recreation to us. We often thought that the enemy would be surprised if they could know of the debates we had--for instance, 'Must the "hands-uppers" be allowed to vote after the war is over?' 'Must the Kaffirs or natives have more rights?' 'Is intervention advisable under the circumstances? etc. The men in the neighbourhood of Tafelkop were mostly 'hands-uppers,' so we confiscated their property, and their grain and cattle we took for the use of the lager, but we always left sufficient for the use of the women and children. The future of a farm on which a lager had camped for some time was dark indeed, for even the grain in the fields was destroyed by the demon of war. If the owner of the farm were not a 'hands-upper,' our officers usually succeeded in preventing the destruction. Sometimes the pulling up of the fencing was inevitable, as we were so short of fuel. The Boer women were sometimes forced to accept the protection of the enemy, after their farms and property had been destroyed by friend and enemy alike.

The negotiation of February 7, between Kitchener and Louis Botha, was read out to us at Tafelkop. The burghers were unanimous in condemnation of Kitchener's conditions, and were fully satisfied with Botha's short, vigorous answer. Had we indeed fought so long and so fiercely only to become an English colony, and not to be allowed to carry arms unless we had a license? And for the Kaffirs to be eventually allowed to vote? The men who were attached to their families and farms, but preferred losing all to becoming 'hands-uppers,' were unanimous in declaring Kitchener's conditions unacceptable, and all were ready to fight to the bitter end. We often spoke of the terrible suffering of our women and children in the refugee camps, and sometimes doubted whether it were not better for their sakes to give in. We did not know whether patriotism were worth the shedding of so much innocent blood. It cost us more than we can tell to remain firm and brave in our undertaking.

At that time we also heard of De Wet's retreat from Cape Colony, but not officially. It was broken to us gently, and at first as if he had been successful, so that we all thought peace was to follow soon.

How we rejoiced!

But a few days later De Wet's official report was read out to us, and then our courage sank indeed. What was the good of our fighting if the Colony would not help us?

The disappointment was not great enough to make us lay down our arms, but we knew it would be many a long day before peace was in the land. How long should we still be chased from place to place? When would there be rest for our exhausted bodies? And how we longed for our dear ones, if only we should find them alive!

CONCLUSION

BATTLE OF STOMPIES--IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY

We stayed fully three weeks at Tafelkop. I was appointed commissary of the Krugersdorp commando, and rode round to all the farms to procure the needful for our commando. As General De la Rey had been camping close by at Rietfontein for some time, there was not much left to commandeer, unless we deprived the women whose husbands were in the veld of the necessaries of life.

Our lager was moved from Tafelkop to Rietpan, from whence a few hundred of our horsemen started with some guns and a few trolleys for Groot Kafferkraal, in Hartbeestfontein district. General De la Rey had come over to organize the expedition in person, and accompanied General Kemp. I went with a man called Jooste to the neighbourhood of Lichtenberg and Klein Kafferkraal to commandeer cattle. There I heard many tales of the enemy's behaviour as they passed through a week before.

For some reason or other the houses there had not been burnt, perhaps owing to the verbal negotiation between Botha and Kitchener. I know of only one house that was burned down there. That was the finest house in the neighbourhood and belonged to Willem Basson. Mrs. Basson herself told me how it happened. Her husband had fled with the cattle when the enemy came along. The soldiers asked her for money. They said such a fine house must contain a great deal of money, and when she refused they became most impertinent. The finding of a packet of dynamite in the coach-house afforded a fine excuse. The dynamite was used by Basson for the making of wells. On finding the packet they shouted 'Hurrah!' and rushed off with it to the camp close to the house. They came back after a while and stormed the house, smashing the windows with stones. Truly a heroic storming of a fortress held by women! They destroyed everything in the house, and the women and children were obliged to flee to Mrs. Scheffers at Klein Kafferkraal, where I met them.

We know of many cases of cruelty and violence, cases that have roused us to a passion of hatred.

I do not believe that the cases of violence, which are not spoken of because of the horror, are tolerated by the military authorities, who are probably ignorant of them. One can understand that the worst were committed by isolated patrols who could give free vent to their evil passions. We cannot always hold the chief officers responsible for acts committed by individual soldiers, neither are our officers responsible for the unlawful acts of individuals on our side. But if the English, with their national pride and obstinacy, deny these acts of violence, we can give them sufficient proof of more cases than one.

I was not present when the Krugersdorpers attacked Babington's force near Lensdenplaats, in the neighbourhood of Groot Kafferkraal. But the following morning, when they were retreating, I joined them with some cattle, and was present at the Battle of Stompies. The night before the battle I heard De la Rey's order given to Kemp to march his men at four o'clock the following morning in the direction of the enemy. He was told to retreat fighting, in case the enemy attacked, so as to give our reinforcements an opportunity of attacking in the rear. Kemp ordered the lager, or, rather, the few waggons, to retire to Bodenstein's farm the following morning.

While we were busy inspanning we heard the enemy's bomb-Maxim, and before the waggons had forded the dangerous drift of the donga near Bodenstein's farm the bullets flew over our heads from the bult behind us. The women fled into the house and the burghers retreated as fast as they could. The enemy had surrounded us in the night, and each burgher had to do his utmost to escape from out of the half-circle. The few who stayed behind to defend the guns were soon obliged to fly after the rest, and to abandon one gun still on the other side of the drift. The others might have been saved if the women's lager had not impeded their flight by obstructing the way.

We retreated to Vetpan. Those of the burghers who retreated more to the right in the direction of Stompies were the best off, as the right wing of the enemy had to be on its guard not to enter the wood there. The enemy fired at us from horseback to enhance our panic, which was clever of them, as it was impossible for us to turn in any direction. My horse was overworked, and had changed its pace into a heavy gallop, a sure sign that it would not last much longer. When I looked round, I saw a few khakies riding on ahead, making our burghers 'hands-up.' Fortunately, someone released a spare horse; I mounted it without a saddle and made good my escape, but was incapable of riding for several days after.

Our men made no attempt to check the enemy's progress. They all fled, each one bent on saving himself. A Boer, if once he flies, is not easily turned aside. But it must be remembered that our horses were terribly overworked. They had to live on nothing but grass, and very little of that. We all also recognised the impossibility of checking the enemy, as we ran the risk of shooting our own men and women; so our only chance lay in flight.

The horses of the enemy were soon 'done up,' and they had to satisfy themselves with our guns--two large ones that we had taken from them at Colenso, a damaged bomb-Maxim and several smaller ones. They took 136 prisoners, among whom were Lieutenant Odendaal, 32 artillerists, 13 burghers, and for the rest women and children and some big, full-grown cowardly men who were in the habit of fleeing with the women and children. The greater part of the women's lager fell into their hands. The few waggons of Generals Smuts and Kemp that they captured were of no importance. Jooste and Malherbe were also taken prisoners.

I rode with General De la Rey to Tafelkop, where our lager was stationed. In a week's time I was back again at Stompies. I had been there scarcely an hour, when the tidings came that the enemy were camped on Willem Basson's farm. The following morning before daybreak I was on my way to Rietfontein. There, too, I had been only about an hour, when another column came down upon me from the direction of Ventersdorp. I fled to Tivee Buffelgeschiet with two boiled mealies and a piece of meat in my hands. Before I reached that farm, half an hour's ride, my horse was done up. I crept behind an ant-hill and prepared to defend myself against four scouts who seemed to be coming straight towards me. Suddenly, however, they turned off in the direction of their main-guard, because, as I afterwards heard, they were threatened by eight of our scouts.

But the khakies were nearing me, and I was obliged to lead my horse into a mealie-veld and to lie down full length in the rain. They did not appear, however, and I concluded that they had camped at Rietfontein, so I walked my horse to the farm of Mrs. Jansen, one of the few hospitable women in that sparsely inhabited country. She hastily informed me that the khakies had been there.

The eight burghers soon returned, among them a young man who was nursing a wounded man on the farm. In the night we went into the veld with a small brother of his, who rode a mule, and returned in the morning to watch the enemy's movements from the roof of the house. My horse was so ill with horse-sickness that it shook under me. The enemy suddenly appeared on the long bult (hill) along which I had come the day before. I carried my saddle into the house and fled into the veld. From behind an ant-hill I watched the enemy shooting my poor sick horse. They passed by me several times, but at last I was discovered, and had to give up my beloved Mauser without a chance of defending myself. My two companions escaped. This happened on April 3, 1901.