CHAPTER III.
In camp at Surprise Hill.
"Now
then, you men, turn out!"
"Hurry
up with your blankets!"
"Get
that tent down sharp!"
These,
and a dozen other now old familiar shouts, rang in our ears for the first
time as we were turned out at 4 a.m. on the 17th April.
Everywhere
around us is hurry and bustle. The officer's whistle sounds, down go rows
of tents, and within two minuets men are bearing to the wagon our homes,
carefully folded and packed in their respective bags. The long rolls of
blankets, also, are being hurriedly completed, and speedily borne to the
transport told off for them.
All
baggage loaded, the breakfast appears and is hastily disposed of. A little
way off the Queen's, West Yorks, and Devons can be seen occupied in the
same manner. Evidently the whole of the 2nd Brigade is on the move. The
"fall in" sounds, and some little confusion occurs as it is
yet dark, the faintest rays of the coming day only just making their appearance,
and it is no easy task to find our own place in the ranks of the battalion.
At
length we are on the march, about 4,000 strong, and with a long string
of wagons rumbling behind, the station, cross the railway, and get upon
the dusty track that leads in the direction of Ladysmith. On all sides
stretch rolling plains of yellow grass, parched and withered by the fierce
autumn sun, and bounded by high and boulder-strewn kopjes, at the foot
of which nestle several weather-beaten native huts, surrounded by the
customary mealie-patch. The heat of the day and the thick dust that flies
upward from the tramping feet, persuade some of us to take a pull at the
water bottle. We have yet to learn the advantages of abstaining from drink
whilst on the march. The puny quart dwindles rapidly away, and we have
still many more weary miles before us. The careful ones have remembered
this in time, but others now learn by painful experience to save their
water in future.
We
are obliged to leave Private Wooden in hospital at Elandslaagte, down
with an attack of dysentery.
During
this day's march the officer in command tested our training by giving
us the flanking to do. This we performed to his satisfaction. We marched
about ten miles, and halted on our camping ground at 1 p.m., at a place
called Modder Spruit or Pepworth Farm. The wagons were brought up and
unloaded, the tents pitched, and, what was more important to us, the cooks
were speedily at work, and in a short time turned out a hot stew.
Next
morning (18th) we again struck camp at the same hour, and moved in some
sharp showers of rain, which soaked us through and made the roads very
heavy for marching. Some artillery joined us at daybreak. By noon we had
reached our destination, about two and a half miles north-west of Ladysmith,
and pitched close to Surprise Hill, which overlooks the scene of the disaster
at Nicholson's Nek.
The
camp was situated at the foot of Bell's Kopje, amidst a small wood of
thorny bushes, and in a very pretty spot. Away to the right rose the great
flat ridge of Umblwana Hill, whence the Boers had planted many a shell
into Ladysmith from their Long Tom on its summit. On the left horizon
towered Lombard's Kop, while in the south stretched the chain of hills
that Buller had to break through to effect the relief. Around us, too,
were camped other brigades, waiting for the further move that was to clear
Natal of the enemy.
Though
so fair a spot, this place proved a regular fever den. There was, to start
with, a great scarcity of water, and what we could get was none too pure.
The camp supply was obtained, to a great extent, from wells sunk in the
bed of a dry stream which ran along the foot of the kopje, on the side
of which we were encamped. The nearest place for bathing was the Klip
River, a good three miles away, and to this one or two visits were made
during our stay here. Orders were issued to the effect that all water
was to be boiled before used; but this is easier said than done when a
body of 1,000 men has to be dealt with, and no means were provided for
the work until after we had been settled some days. Owing to the bad water
and oppressive heat, a great amount of illness made its appearance. Dysentery
was most common, and the battalion doctor had his hands full. Every morning
the sick parade was largely attended, and usually two or three patients
were carried over to the hospital on stretchers. It became a common sight
to see a firing party marching off to perform that last acts of respect
at a comrade's grave. Fatigue parties, too, were frequently requisitioned
for grave-digging, three of the long narrow beds having to be kept in
constant readiness even for this comparatively small British force.
On
the 21st an attack was expected at Elandslaagte, and our battalion was
moved some miles up-country to be at hand if reinforcements were necessary.
We were, however, not required, and returned to camp. Next day, Sunday,
a brigade church-parade was held, and the four battalions attended. Every
man carried with him to "church" his rifle, ammunition, and
side-arms, parading in what was known as fighting order. The extent of
ground covered prevented all of us getting close enough to hear the service.
The rest of the day we were free, and some of us took the opportunity
of visiting the summit of Surprise Hill. The Boer laager we found in a
filthy state, littered with broken bottles, biscuits and meat tins, broken
bedsteads, and a hundred other samples of rubbish which the Boers had
never taken the trouble to clear away.
Amongst
these lay numerous empty Mauser cartridge cases, and now and then a loaded
round. Fragments of shells were also found, and hoarded as curios by the
lucky discoverers. We explored the whole hill, and also looked down upon
the valley that leads to Nicholson's Nek, and along which, no doubt, the
mules of that ill-fated mountain battery stampeded. In the evening we
walked over to the ridge that extends to the south of the camp and perceived
from its summit the buildings of Ladysmith, half hidden by thick foliage
of the trees with which the town is so profusely planted. Beyond and around
it, lay the famous hills ever associated with the memories of the siege.
But
darkness comes on apace, and we turn round to retrace our steps to camp,
when the scene on which our eyes alight causes us to pause for a moment
to admire it. At the foot of the steep hill twinkle a hundred little fires,
sending up a ruddy glare and half revealing in the glow the dusky figures
bending over them; while beyond, the tents are dimly visible where the
firelight gleams upon the white canvas. The scene is the more charming,
as it is not intended for effect. Every one of those bent forms has a
most serious business in hand - the preparation of his supper. As this
comes to our minds we remember that we ourselves have yet that most important
duty to perform, and so leave the admiration of this picturesque sight
for those who have already supped.
We
hasten in, and finding a man just finished, take possession of the still
glowing embers. A few fresh sticks and a continuous blowing soon create
a blaze, though possibly our eyes are smarting somewhat from the smoke.
The two large stones on either side are fitted to support the mess-tin,
and in a short time the water is steaming and bubbling. The cornflour
or oatmeal is added, and then comes the final test. Keeping the gruel
stirring, blowing the fire, and breaking up the wood all at the same time,
in a cloud of smoke, is no easy job; but we stick at it and are soon rewarded
by success. We hand over the fire to the next man waiting and retire to
the tent to devour our supper, for which we are by this time quite ready.
Next
morning brought us some ill tidings. Private Wooden, the man left behind
at Elandslaagte, had died of dysentery in Chieveley Hospital. Needless
to say, the sorrow in the company was general, and much sympathy was felt
for those at home, who had yet to learn of their dear one's death.
Life
in camp now settled down to a round of expectation, at first exciting,
but soon becoming monotonous. The battalion had been made a mobile one,
which, for the sake of the uninitiated, means that it might receive orders
at any minuet to start on the march. Every day one company had to remain
in or about camp within call. Fatigues were ordered, more to keep the
men in trim than for any useful purpose, and our captain took the opportunity
of giving us a little practice in the attack and taking cover, on the
same sort of ground as that one which we should most probably have to
fight.
Canteens
were established, as also a fruit stall, which was a great advantage,
the bananas and oranges being specially appreciated. The Salvation Army
also had a tent here, where men could write letters and read, a large
supply of magazines and papers being frequently received from home by
them. The men in charge of this establishment held a very good reputation
amongst the older soldiers for the way they had frequently assisted the
wounded under fire during the earlier battles of the campaign.
The
camp was, moreover, not without its humorous features. If by chance you
happened to sit on your little pile of wood during the evening's cooking,
the men round seemed to see some point in the joke at which they laughed
heartily. You would, in most cases, be liable to feel rather than to see
points, as these bushes from which we collected a good quantity of our
fuel, bear thorns some two inches long. The flies, too, proved a great
aggravation. They simply swarmed in the camp. Open your mouth and as likely
as not a dozen or two would promptly enter it, and many a time violent
sneezing would announce the fact that one of these pests had taken refuge
up somebody's nose.
Another
small catastrophe that occurred here was the breaking of a tent-pole owing
to the wet. This, however uncomfortable it might have been to have the
tent on them, in no way disturbed the men, who remained under it until
morning.
On
Saturday, 28th April, the company took their turn at outpost duty on the
summit of Bell's Kopje. All night long a lurid glow in the distance showed
where the Boers had their watch-fires. Rain fell heavily during the dark
hours, and our first experience of sleeping on the field was not too comfortable.
The
bread ration in camp was now reduced, by order of the doctor, to one-quarter,
the rest being made up of biscuit. This was on account of the great amount
of dysentery, which increased as our stay in this place grew longer. Additional
precautions were taken to ensure the water being boiled, and large tanks
were received for that purpose. Most of the water used for cooking was
brought from a distance in carts, or in barrels slung across the backs
of mules. These animals were led in a long string by some stately Hindoo;
the carts being driven by Kafirs. A frequent sight was a mule broken loose
coming through the camp at full gallop, followed, at a leisurely stroll,
by its master, who had every hope of catching the brute again in the course
of a day or two.
 |
|
Captain C.L. Longstaff |
Captain Colyer |
When
not at work the oxen and mules, numbering some hundreds, were turned out
to graze on the surrounding plain. At sunset they were all driven in,
and it was a pretty sight to see the cattle form up in line beside their
yoke like a well-drilled company. The mules, though hobbled, always gave
a great deal of trouble before they were properly secured for the night.
Time
went on, and brought us to the evening of the 6th May. The "orders"
call had just gone and we were listlessly strolling about, waiting to
see if there was anything fresh, when a rumour, which sprang up as these
usually do, no one knows whence, was circulated that we had received marching
orders.
Presently
the orderly-sergeant comes hurrying up. Yet, rumour for once was correct.
We move at 7 in the morning. And, what is more, every pound of excess
stores is to be sent into Ladysmith, including all tents. Everyone is
hard at work reducing his kit to the smallest possible amount, the overcoat
pockets being all the storage allowed for extra clothing.
Next
morning, the 7th May, we fell in sharp to the minuet, and off we went
with the much-reduced string of wagons bearing our blankets, overcoat,
and all the supplies we took with us, and which were to last for some
time. We retraced our steps as far as Modder Spruit and camped rather
closer to Pepworth Farm than we did on our previous stay. Volunteers were
called for to fill the water bottles, and this meant a long tramp, as
the nearest drinking water was two and a half miles away. Bully beef and
biscuits were now our rations, and we had seen the last of fresh meat
and bread for many a week. All cooking we had to do ourselves, and the
regular orders when we camped specified where fires were to be made.
The
following day, the 8th, we were up at 4 o'clock, but marching orders were
countermanded, and we spent our time resting, waiting for other battalions
to come up. A second blanket per man was served out, as winter was coming
on, and we should get no shelter from the night dews for a long while.
And
so that night we rolled ourselves in our blankets, and with haversacks
or helmet for pillow, slept on the open plain, to wake in the morning
for the first of a long series of hard and trying marches
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