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THE GREAT BOER WAR
This movement was carried out on the night of February 15th,
and had it been a little quicker it might have been concluded before
we were aware of it. But the lumbering wagons impeded it, and on
the Friday morning, February 16th, a huge rolling cloud of dust on
the northern veld, moving from west to east, told our outposts at
Klip Drift that Cronje’s army had almost slipped through our fi ngers. Lord Kitchener, who was in command at Klip Drift at the moment, instantly unleashed his mounted infantry in direct pursuit,
while Knox’s brigade sped along the northern bank of the river to
cling on to the right haunch of the retreating column. Cronje’s men
had made a night march of thirty miles from Magersfontein, and
the wagon bullocks were exhausted. It was impossible, without an
absolute abandonment of his guns and stores, for him to get away
from his pursuers.
This was no deer which they were chasing, however, but rather
a grim old Transvaal wolf, with his teeth fl ashing ever over his shoulder. The sight of those distant white-tilted wagons fi red the blood of
every mounted infantryman, and sent the Oxfords, the Buffs, the
West Ridings, and the Gloucesters racing along the river bank in
the glorious virile air of an African morning. But there were kopjes
ahead, sown with fi erce Dopper Boers, and those tempting wagons
were only to be reached over their bodies. The broad plain across
which the English were hurrying was suddenly swept with a storm
of bullets. The long infantry line extended yet further and lapped
round the fl ank of the Boer position, and once more the terrible
duet of the Mauser and the Lee-Metford was sung while the 81st
fi eld battery hurried up in time to add its deep roar to their higher
chorus. With fi ne judgment Cronje held on to the last moment of
safety, and then with a swift movement to the rear seized a further
line two miles off, and again snapped back at his eager pursuers. All
day the grim and weary rearguard stalled off the fi ery advance of the
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ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
infantry, and at nightfall the wagons were still untaken. The pursuing force to the north of the river was, it must be remembered, numerically inferior to the pursued, so that in simply retarding the advance of the enemy and in giving other British troops time to come
up, Knox’s brigade was doing splendid work. Had Cronje been well
advised or well informed, he would have left his guns and wagons in
the hope that by a swift dash over the Modder he might still bring
his army away in safety. He seems to have underrated both the British numbers and the British activity.
On the night then of Friday, February 16th, Cronje lay upon the
northern bank of the Modder, with his stores and guns still intact,
and no enemy in front of him, though Knox’s brigade and Hannay’s
Mounted Infantry were behind. It was necessary for Cronje to cross
the river in order to be on the line for Bloemfontein. As the river
tended to the north the sooner he could cross the better. On the
south side of the river, however, were considerable British forces,
and the obvious strategy was to hurry them forward and to block
every drift at which he could get over. The river runs between very
deep banks, so steep that one might almost describe them as small
cliffs, and there was no chance of a horseman, far less a wagon, crossing at any point save those where the convenience of traffi c and
the use of years had worn sloping paths down to the shallows. The
British knew exactly therefore what the places were which had to
be blocked. On the use made of the next few hours the success or
failure of the whole operation must depend.
The nearest drift to Cronje was only a mile or two distant, Klipkraal the name; next to that the Paardeberg Drift; next to that the
Wolveskraal Drift, each about seven miles from the other. Had
Cronje pushed on instantly after the action, he might have got
across at Klipkraal. But men, horses, and bullocks were equally
exhausted after a long twenty-four hours’ marching and fi ghting.
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THE GREAT BOER WAR
He gave his weary soldiers some hours’ rest, and then, abandoning
seventy-eight of his wagons, he pushed on before daylight for the
farthest off of the three fords (Wolveskraal Drift). Could he reach
and cross it before his enemies, he was safe. The Klipkraal Drift had
in the meanwhile been secured by the Buffs, the West Ridings, and
the Oxfordshire Light Infantry after a spirited little action which,
in the rapid rush of events, attracted less attention than it deserved.
The brunt of the fi ghting fell upon the Oxfords, who lost ten killed
and thirty-nine wounded. It was not a waste of life, however, for the
action, though small and hardly recorded, was really a very essential
one in the campaign.
But Lord Roberts’s energy had infused itself into his divisional
commanders, his brigadiers, his colonels, and so down to the humblest Tommy who tramped and stumbled through the darkness
with a devout faith that ‘Bobs’ was going to catch ‘old Cronje’ this
time. The mounted infantry had galloped round from the north to
the south of the river, crossing at Klip Drift and securing the southern end of Klipkraal. Thither also came Stephenson’s brigade from
Kelly-Kenny’s Division, while Knox, fi nding in the morning that
Cronje was gone, marched along the northern bank to the same
spot. As Klipkraal was safe, the mounted infantry pushed on at once
and secured the southern end of the Paardeberg Drift, whither they
were followed the same evening by Stephenson and Knox. There
remained only the Wolveskr aal Drift to block, and this had already
been done by as smart a piece of work as any in the war. Wherever
French has gone he has done well, but his crowning glory was the
movement from Kimberley to head off Cronje’s retreat.
The exertions which the mounted men had made in the relief
of Kimberley have been already recorded. They arrived there on
Thursday with their horses dead beat. They were afoot at three
o’clock on Friday morning, and two brigades out of three were
303
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
hard at work all day in an endeavour to capture the Dronfi eld position. Yet when on the same evening an order came that French
should start again instantly from Kimberley and endeavour to head
Cronje’s army off, he did not plead inability, as many a commander
might, but taking every man whose horse was still fi t to carry him
(something under two thousand out of a column which had been
at least fi ve thousand strong), he started within a few hours and
pushed on through the whole night. Horses died under their riders, but still the column marched over the shadowy veld under the
brilliant stars. By happy chance or splendid calculation they were
heading straight for the one drift which was still open to Cronje. It
was a close thing. At midday on Saturday the Boer advance guard
was already near to the kopjes which command it. But French’s men,
still full of fi ght after their march of thirty miles, threw themselves
in front and seized the position before their very eyes. The last of
the drifts was closed. If Cronje was to get across now, he must crawl
out of his trench and fi ght under Roberts’s conditions, or he might
remain under his own conditions until Roberts’s forces closed
round him. With him lay the alternative. In the meantime, still ignorant of the forces about him, but fi nding himself headed off by
French, he made his way down to the river and occupied a long
stretch of it between Paardeberg Drift and Wolveskraal Drift, hoping to force his way across. This was the situation on the night of
Saturday, February 17th.
In the course of that night the British brigades, staggering with
fatigue but indomitably resolute to crush their evasive enemy, were
converging upon Paardeberg. The Highland Brigade, exhausted
by a heavy march over soft sand from Jacobsdal to Klip Drift, were
nerved to fresh exertions by the word ‘Magersfontein,’ which fl ew
from lip to lip along the ranks, and pushed on for another twelve
miles to Paardeberg. Close at their heels came Smith-Dorrien’s 19th
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THE GREAT BOER WAR
Brigade, comprising the Shropshires, the Cornwalls, the Gordons,
and the Canadians, probably the very fi nest brigade in the whole
army. They pushed across the river and took up their position upon
the north bank. The old wolf was now fairly surrounded. On the
west the Highlanders were south of the river, and Smith-Dorrien
on the north. On the east Kelly-Kenny’s Division was to the south
of the river, and French with his cavalry and mounted infantry were
to the north of it. Never was a general in a more hopeless plight. Do
what he would, there was no possible loophole for escape.
There was only one thing which apparently should not have
been done, and that was to attack him. His position was a formidable one. Not only were the banks of the river fringed with his
rifl emen under excellent cover, but from these banks there extended on each side a number of dongas, which made admirable
natural trenches. The only possible attack from either side must
be across a level plain at least a thousand or fi fteen hundred yards
in width, where our numbers would only swell our losses. It must
be a bold soldier and a far bolder civilian, who would venture to
question an operation carried out under the immediate personal
direction of Lord Kitchener; but the general consensus of opinion
among critics may justify that which might be temerity in the individual. Had Cronje not been tightly surrounded, the action with
its heavy losses might have been justifi ed as an attempt to hold him
until his investment should be complete. There seems, however, to
be no doubt that he was already entirely surrounded, and that, as
experience proved, we had only to sit round him to insure his surrender. It is not given to the greatest man to have every soldierly
gift equally developed, and it may be said without offence that Lord
Kitchener’s cool judgment upon the actual fi eld of battle has not
yet been proved as conclusively as his longheaded power of organisation and his iron determination.
305
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
Putting aside the question of responsibility, what happened on
the morning of Sunday, February 18th, was that from every quarter an assault was urged across the level plains, to the north and
to the south, upon the lines of desperate and invisible men who
lay in the dongas and behind the banks of the river. Everywhere
there was a terrible monotony about the experiences of the various
regiments which learned once again the grim lessons of Colenso
and Modder River. We surely did not need to prove once more
what had already been so amply proved, that bravery can be of
no avail against concealed rifl emen well entrenched, and that the
more hardy is the attack the heavier must be the repulse. Over the
long circle of our attack Knox’s brigade, Stephenson’s brigade, the
Highland brigade, Smith-Dorrien’s brigade all fared alike. In each
case there was the advance until they were within the thousandyard fi re zone, then the resistless sleet of bullets which compelled
them to get down and to keep down. Had they even then recognised that they were attempting the impossible, no great harm
might have been done, but with generous emulation the men of
the various regiments made little rushes, company by company, towards the river bed, and found themselves ever exposed to a more
withering fi re. On the northern bank Smith-Dorrien’s brigade,
and especially the Canadian regiment, distinguished themselves
by the magnifi cent tenacity with which they persevered in their
attack. The Cornwalls of the same brigade swept up almost to the
river bank in a charge which was the admiration of all who saw it.
If the miners of Johannesburg had given the impression that the
Cornishman is not a fi ghter, the record of the county regiment
in the war has for ever exploded the calumny. Men who were not
fi ghters could have found no place in Smith-Dorrien’s brigade or
in the charge of Paardeberg.
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THE GREAT BOER WAR
While the infantry had been severely handled by the Boer rifl emen, our guns, the 76th, 81st, and 82nd fi eld batteries, with the
65th howitzer battery, had been shelling the river bed, though our
artillery fi re proved as usual to have little effect against scattered
and hidden rifl emen. At least, however, it distracted their attention,
and made their fi re upon the exposed infantry in front of them less
deadly. Now, as in Napoleon’s time, the effect of the guns is moral
rather than material. About midday French’s horse-artillery guns
came into action from the north. Smoke and fl ames from the dongas
told that some of our shells had fallen among the wagons and their
combustible stores.
The Boer line had proved itself to be unshakable on each face,
but at its ends the result of the action was to push them up, and to
shorten the stretch of the river which was held by them. On the
north bank Smith-Dorrien’s brigade gained a considerable amount
of ground. At the other end of the position the Welsh, Yorkshire,
and Essex regiments of Stephenson’s brigade did some splendid
work, and pushed the Boers for some distance down the river bank.
A most gallant but impossible charge was made by Colonel Hannay and a number of mounted infantry against the northern bank.
He was shot with the majority of his followers. General Knox of
the 12th Brigade and General Macdonald of the Highlanders were
among the wounded. Colonel Aldworth of the Cornwalls died at the
head of his men. A bullet struck him dead as he whooped his West
Countrymen on to the charge. Eleven hundred killed and wounded testifi ed to the fi re of our attack and the grimness of the Boer
resistance. The distribution of the losses among the various battalions – eighty among the Canadians, ninety in the West Riding
Regiment, one hundred and twenty in the Seaforths, ninety in the
Yorkshires, seventy-six in the Argyll and Sutherlands, ninety-six
in the Black Watch, thirty-one in the Oxfordshires, fi fty-six in the
307
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
Cornwalls, forty-six in the Shropshires – shows how universal was
the gallantry, and especially how well the Highland Brigade carried
itself. It is to be feared that they had to face, not only the fi re of the
enemy, but also that of their own comrades on the further side of
the river. A great military authority has stated that it takes many
years for a regiment to recover its spirit and steadiness if it has been
heavily punished, and yet within two months of Magersfontein we
fi nd the indomitable Highlanders taking without fl inching the very
bloodiest share of this bloody day – and this after a march of thirty
miles with no pause before going into action. A repulse it may have
been, but they hear no name of which they may be more proud upon
the victory scroll of their colours.
What had we got in return for our eleven hundred casualties?
We had contracted the Boer position from about three miles to less
than two. So much was to the good, as the closer they lay the more
effective our artillery fi re might be expected to be. But it is probable that our shrapnel alone, without any loss of life, might have
effected the same thing. It is easy to be wise after the event, but it
does certainly appear that with our present knowledge the action
at Paardeberg was as unnecessary as it was expensive. The sun descended on Sunday, February 18th, upon a bloody fi eld and crowded
fi eld hospitals, but also upon an unbroken circle of British troops
still hemming in the desperate men who lurked among the willows
and mimosas which drape the brown steep banks of the Modder.
There was evidence during the action of the presence of an active Boer force to the south of us, probably the same well-handled
and enterprising body which had captured our convoy at Waterval.
A small party of Kitchener’s Horse was surprised by this body, and
thirty men with four offi cers were taken prisoners. Much has been
said of the superiority of South African scouting to that of the British regulars, but it must be confessed that a good many instances
308
THE GREAT BOER WAR
might be quoted in which the colonials, though second to none in
gallantry, have been defective in that very quality in which they
were expected to excel.
This surprise of our cavalry post had more serious consequences
than can be measured by the loss of men, for by it the Boers obtained
possession of a strong kopje called Kitchener’s Hill, lying about two
miles distant on the south-east of our position. The movement was
an admirable one strategically upon their part, for it gave their beleaguered comrades a fi rst station on the line of their retreat. Could
they only win their way to that kopje, a rearguard action might be
fought from there which would cover the escape of at least a portion
of the force. De Wet, if he was indeed responsible for the manoeuvres of these Southern Boers, certainly handled his small force with
a discreet audacity which marks him as the born leader which he
afterwards proved himself to be.
If the position of the Boers was desperate on Sunday, it was hopeless on Monday, for in the course of the morning Lord Roberts came
up, closely followed by the whole of Tucker’s Division (7th) from Jacobsdal. Our artillery also was strongly reinforced. The 18th, 62nd,
and 75th fi eld batteries came up with three naval 4.7 guns and two
naval 12-pounders. Thirty-fi ve thousand men with sixty guns were
gathered round the little Boer army. It is a poor spirit which will
not applaud the supreme resolution with which the gallant farmers
held out, and award to Cronje the title of one of the most grimly
resolute leaders of whom we have any record in modern history.
For a moment it seemed as if his courage was giving way. On
Monday morning a message was transmitted by him to Lord Kitchener asking for a twenty-four hours’ armistice. The answer was of
course a curt refusal. To this he replied that if we were so inhuman
as to prevent him from burying his dead there was nothing for him
save surrender. An answer was given that a messenger with power
309
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
to treat should be sent out, but in the interval Cronje had changed
his mind, and disappeared with a snarl of contempt into his burrows. It had become known that women and children were in the
laager, and a message was sent offering them a place of safety, but
even to this a refusal was given. The reasons for this last decision are
inconceivable.
Lord Roberts’s dispositions were simple, effi cacious, and above
all bloodless. Smith-Dorrien’s brigade, who were winning in the
Western army something of the reputation which Hart’s Irishmen
had won in Natal, were placed astride of the river to the west, with
orders to push gradually up, as occasion served, using trenches for
their approach. Chermside’s brigade occupied the same position on
the east. Two other divisions and the cavalry stood round, alert and
eager, like terriers round a rat-hole, while all day the pitiless guns
crashed their common shell, their shrapnel, and their lyddite into
the river-bed. Already down there, amid slaughtered oxen and dead
horses under a burning sun, a horrible pest-hole had been formed
which sent its mephitic vapours over the countryside. Occasionally
the sentries down the river saw amid the brown eddies of the rushing water the fl oating body of a Boer which had been washed away
from the Golgotha above. Dark Cronje, betrayer of Potchefstroom,
iron-handed ruler of natives, reviler of the British, stern victor of
Magersfontein, at last there has come a day of reckoning for you!
On Wednesday, the 21st, the British, being now sure of their
grip of Cronje, turned upon the Boer force which had occupied the
hill to the south- east of the drift. It was clear that this force, unless
driven away, would be the vanguard of the relieving army which
might be expected to assemble from Ladysmith, Bloemfontein,
Colesberg, or wherever else the Boers could detach men. Already
it was known that reinforcements who had left Natal whenever
they heard that the Free State was invaded were drawing near. It
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