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WITH BOTHA IN THE FIELD
Photo: Leon Lerson, Johannesberg
BY
MOORE RITCHIE
With Five Diagrams and Eighty-two Illustrations mostly by the Author LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON FOURTH AVENUE AND 30TH STREET, NEW YORK BOMBAY, CALCUTTA, AND MADRAS 1915 |
THE AUTHOR
J.B.
LIEUTENANT, HIS MAJESTY'S IMPERIAL FORCES,
IF THIS SHOULD CATCH THE EYE OF:
CHER AMI,--TO YOU:
IN MEMORY OF DAYS.
YOURS,
M. R.
Frontispiece: The only photo of the meeting of General Botha and General Smuts in the field just before Windhuk was taken
FOREWORD
The ungentle reader (upon whom a malediction) will discover that this little book is not by any means exhaustive. But the gentle reader may find it to be what I hope it is. For him I wrote it.
Europe at the present time is lacerated in the greatest war of which man has knowledge. Compared with the doings in the Eastern and Western Fronts, in the Austro-Italian Theatre, or in the Dardanelles, the campaign of South Africa must take a modest place.
My idea is simply to make clear to the public (for example, all names I mention will be easily found on my diagrams, drawn from a German fully detailed map, the best of the South-West African Protectorate in existence) of gentle and patriotic readers something of the latter-day work of a gentleman and a patriot, justly famed amongst peoples with whom integrity and honour are still esteemed sovereign virtues.
"The Nonggai," Pretoria, S. Africa, August1915.
General Botha's Bodyguard leaving for the Front
CONTENTS
PART I
CHASING THE REBELS
I KEMP AND BEYERS II DE WET III KEMP'S ESCAPE IV FOURIE
PART II
THE CAMPAIGN OF SOUTH-WEST AFRICA
I THE PRELIMINARY CANTER II THE FIRST TREK INTO THE NAMIB DESERT III THE RECORD TREK TO WINDHUK IV THE LAST PHASE
APPENDIX
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
[General Botha's Bodyguard leaving for the Front]
Group of Rebel Leaders [Transcriber's note: missing from original]
Rebels rounded up after the capture of De Wet [Transcriber's note: missing from original]
[The last pursuit of Kemp. Flying column crossing the Orange River after him]
[Troops returning to Pretoria after Nooitgedacht. December 16, 1914]
[General Botha's train leaves the Orange Free State after the crushing of the Rebellion]
[Exhausted Troops after defeating De Wet in the Orange Free State]
[Leaving Pretoria. General Botha's Bodyguard departing]
[Kits aboard. The Troops departing for the Front]
[Camp of the Bodyguard at Groote Schuur]
[Boxing aboard. En route to German South-West Africa]
[Awaiting landing from the Transport]
[Trekking over the terrible Sand Dunes near the Coast, German South-West Africa]
[Some of the first Burghers to land at Walvis]
[Before the Advance. General Botha photographed with the Red Cross Sisters]
[Awaiting the Advance. The Commander-in-Chief at tea with the Red Cross Sisters]
[Awaiting the Advance. Garrison Sports at Swakopmund. Start for 100 yards race]
[Awaiting the Advance. Garrison Sports. Winner]
[Swakopmund from the Lighthouse: Extreme Right]
[Man and Beast in the Desert: both absolutely spent]
[Looking for Water in the River Bed]
[A Halt in a River Bed: General Botha has lunch]
[Main Guard aboard--en route to hunt the Huns]
[On the Great Trek--the Chief of the Staff has a hair-cut]
[An unique picture of General Botha, the Commander-in-Chief and his Staff reconnoitring]
[After Riet water in blessed profusion]
[A Typical Parade of the Germans in South-West Africa]
[Typical captured German Infantry]
[The Great Trek. Otjimbingwe: its Palms and Wells]
[The Great Trek. Otjimbingwe: the Commander-in-Chief at the old German capital]
[The Great Trek. Getting Milk from a Goat. Milk was priced beyond Silver]
[The Great Trek. An extempore bath towards the end of the Trek]
[A Beauty Spot passed during the last Trek]
[The Last Phase. Conference at Omaruru. German Staff lunching]
[The General receives his Bodyguard at a Garden Party after return]
[German prisoners of war, imprisoned at Karibib]
[Towards Windhuk. The first troops in Waldau]
[The first South African Engineer Corps Staff at Windhuk]
[At Windhuk. How we treat the German women. Ten minutes after occupation]
[At Windhuk. The Commander-in-Chief addresses his massed troops from the Rathaus]
[At the Gate of Windhuk. Headquarters Staff Motors awaiting entry]
[At the Gate of Windhuk. General Botha discusses matters with the Governor of Windhuk]
[At the Gate of Windhuk. The Interpreter]
[At the Gate of Windhuk. General Botha emphasises]
[The great Wireless Station at Windhuk]
[Conference at Omaruru. General Staff lunching]
[The Last Phase. The BE2 tuning up in shed before flight over German positions]
[At the Provost Marshal's office at Windhuk--all in Law and order]
[The Union Jack just hoisted at the Governor's office, Windhuk]
[The Great Military Barracks at Windhuk]
[Windhuk. Basking in the sun: from the great Wireless Station]
[The Last Phase. Difficulties with General Botha's car through the thick sand]
[The Last Phase. The Germans had a hobby of blowing up bridges. Here is a fine specimen]
[Windhuk. The first British station-master and one of his staff]
[The Fork that Caught the Germans]
[The Last Phase. Opposite the very spot where surrender was made. A vast ant-hill at 500 Kilometres]
South-West Africa. Position of enemy before surrender [Transcriber's note: missing from original]
[The Last Phase. The German white flag train just arriving]
[The Last Phase. General Botha meets Von Franke at 500 Kilometres]
[The Last Phase. Troops entraining to return home]
[The Last Phase. The famous Rhodesian Regiment that did so much in the final brilliant movement]
[The Last Phase. Isumeh. British prisoners released]
[The German Staff before surrender]
[Homeward bound! General Botha and Staff returning on the _Ebari_]
[The Great Man and the Chips of the Old Block returning to the Union after Conquest]
Diagram of Campaign
WITH BOTHA IN THE FIELD
PART I
CHASING THE REBELS
SECTION I
KEMP AND BEYERS
Six weeks after the war-cloud smashed over Europe a man called on me. He was an old friend; but the point about him is that at that particular time I fancied him on his farm at least a thousand miles away.
"Hello!" I said in surprise. "Why this sudden appearance?"
"This is going to be a big thing, my boy. I am off 'Home.' They will need us all."
It impressed me. He was a person calm and methodical minded, and, like so many good men, he has been dead now many months. His words, which have proved true, were the first to turn my mind definitely to war- thoughts. Besides, the man whose trade is writing has always, when events are stirring, the itch to go, look and note.
In the branch of the Union Service to which I belong--the South African Police--none but Reservists could then proceed to Europe; but when General Botha announced that he himself would take command of the Expeditionary Force to German South-West Africa, a Bodyguard from the South African Police was decided upon, volunteers came forward, and on this unit I had the honour to serve.
The intention of the Union Authorities was to push forward with the German West Campaign as quickly as possible. The Rebellion delayed operations roughly some three months--a period during which some exceedingly severe marchings and stiff rifle actions took place. I mention this deliberately, for in the stir of well-won applause following the victorious end of the Campaign proper, the preliminary canter of the Rebellion is perhaps somewhat forgotten.
It does not seem, in the light of later information, strictly true to say that the Rebellion of 1914 broke upon the Union of South Africa in a manner wholly unexpected. But its ultimate development and extent did cause both surprise and great uneasiness. The details of its various activities over the country are by this time stale history. Leaving comment of a political nature alone, I confine myself briefly to the movements which, performed by General Botha and the loyalist troops, were so swift and accurate in their workings that they broke the back of the main risings before more than local disorganisation and the least possible amount of bloodshed had been achieved.
On the 12th of October the Bodyguard for the German South-West Campaign assembled for field practices, etc., at Pretoria. On the 20th we heard that we should be leaving at an hour's notice, presumably for the South-West. The following day wild and disquieting rumours began to circulate from early morning. Maritz had gone into rebellion. Motor- cars sped all forenoon between General Botha's house close to us and the Union Defence Headquarters. Our camp was full of alarms. The police of Pretoria became suddenly twice as many about the streets. Towards evening it was positively stated that plots were afoot aiming at nothing less than the life of General Botha; and the Main Guard, which had been mounted at the General's house from the day of the Bodyguard's formation, was doubled. Not a soul was allowed within or around the modest grounds of the house without challenge at the point of the bayonet and presentment of the countersign. It will be long before memory loses the picture of those evenings, when through the lighted windows of the left wing of the house the Main Guard first and second reliefs got a view of a familiar ample figure in anxious consultations at a table upon which the electric light cast a mellow glow.
The next day, the 22nd of October, rumour gave way to fact. Rebellion had definitely broken out in the Transvaal and the Free State; Beyers, the ex-Commandant General, Kemp and others were leading in the Transvaal; the names of De Wet and Wessel Wessels were coupled with the Free State. For the second time within a year unhappy South Africa heard rumours of imminent Martial Law proclamations.
Monday morning, the 26th, arrived and found us still waiting; then the Bodyguard got twenty minutes' notice and entrained, horses, kits and everything for Rustenburg. We arrived there at five o'clock the following morning, and started at once in pursuit of rebel commandos which were led by Kemp and Beyers. Before starting, General Botha over a cup of coffee had an anxious consultation with his loyal commandants who had arrived to meet him. Throughout the day we trekked, with one brief halt only, and "outspanned" that night near Oliphant's Nek. During the day the loyal commandos located the rebels without much difficulty; they were routed in all directions, and some eighty were captured. At two o'clock in the morning we continued the trek, stopped in the forenoon on the railway line at Derby (close to Drakfontein, the scene of the British disaster to Benson's Horse during the South African War), and pushing on in the evening to Koster, learnt from incoming scouts that Kemp had escaped capture by minutes only. The direction of his flight was questionable at the time.
Returning to Pretoria, we remained there for a few days. The whole town was in a state of remarkable tension. The police were armed. Armed volunteers were called for. Loyalists were training after working hours in batches on various open spaces. It was freely whispered that the German South-West Campaign would be given up, so formidable was the threatened opposition to it.... I am writing this much less than a year later: and Windhuk has fallen, the Germans have surrendered their territory, and thousands of burghers and volunteers are returning to their homes.
On the 2nd of November we left Pretoria again. More trouble was brewing at Brits, close to Pretoria. We trekked straightway to Zoutpan's Drift, the commandos again pursuing a body of rebels who, cutting through the railway line, had caused damage at De Wilts or Greyling's Post, twenty miles or so outside the Union capital. Quite unwilling to make a stand, the insurgents were again put to flight, and General Botha returned to Pretoria the following day. In the meantime other loyalist columns in the Transvaal had taken to the field, and the rebellion seemed well in hand.
SECTION II
DE WET
Compared with the Free State insurrection, the Transvaal affair appeared in many ways to be a small business from our point of view. In actuality it was nothing of the kind. It was, if anything, much more ugly in spirit. The genius of the Free State section of insurgents displayed itself chiefly in a highly finished exposition of lying, looting and "legging it."
De Wet's delirious harangue had not exhausted its nine-days' life as a masterpiece of unconscious humour when General Botha left Pretoria for the Free State on November 9. Again, I am not concerned with the highly complex motives which prompted the veteran Dutch General to make his delightful "Five Bob Outrage" speech and other things at Vrede. Flogging dead horses is a useless job, anyway.
During the journey to the Free State, our guard en the train was extremely strict. Though every possible precaution of secrecy had been taken, we were positively told to be prepared to find the train fired upon. But, if during such journeys preparedness was doubtless essential in the circumstances, it always seemed to me that we, or any one so placed, were pretty powerless to avert disaster should a properly directed shot from the darkness find its mark.
On November 11 we detrained at Theunissen, in the Free State. It was speedily clear that this part of the world was in the grip of disturbance. Telegraph poles all along the line had been wrecked; an amount of mild pillaging had been going on. The people of Theunissen were almost in panic. The two fights--one against Conroy, at Allaman's Kraal, the other and larger, against De Wet, at Doornberg--had been enormously magnified. General Botha was welcomed in genuine relief. We remained at arms in the train during the first part of the night. At 2 a.m. we were roused, and in less than half an hour were on the way across country to Winburg.
The arrival at the little railhead dorp of Winburg was remarkable. Scarcely were we halted and hand put to loosen girth before the loyalist leaders came running out in the morning sunshine to meet us. De Wet had left the place two hours before, disappearing with his following over the first kopje. He had caused absolute panic. His forces had cut the inhabitants off from all touch with the outer world. De Wet had commandeered all food supplies worth having. Houses had been looted and speeches were made in the marketplace. His followers had assured the people that the Empire was tottering, Germany had defeated Britain on land and sea, a hundred thousand were marching on Pretoria, and that Botha and his Government were defeated and disgraced. And these statements were to a large extent believed.
It was but natural. Cut off the wire and rail communication of a South African veld town and you have isolation in the most thorough sense. In such a place at such a time mere statement may seem quite possibly the truth.
Towards evening we got news of the rebels, and a night-march was ordered. As we left the town the loyal people lined the streets, the fellows in the columns whistled "Tipperary," and we got a rousing farewell.
[Illustration: Group of Rebel Leaders] [missing]
[Illustration: Rebels rounded up after the capture of De Wet] [missing]
General Botha is celebrated amongst fighting men for many things, and his night-marching is one of them. He appears to believe to the fullest extent in night-marching. He had located De Wet at a place called Mushroom Valley, and parts of the Commander-in-Chief's forces had been sent to make a surrounding movement. During the all-night trek from Winburg to Mushroom Valley I had a first thorough experience of the true horrors of sleep-fighting. It was bitterly cold--cold as the Free State night on the veld knows how to be. And we could not smoke, could not talk above a faint murmur, and nodded in our saddles. The clear stars danced fantastically in the sky ahead of us, and the ground seemed to be falling away from us into vast hollows, then rising to our horses' noses ready to smash into us like an impalpable wall. After midnight, outspanning in a piercing wind, we formed square; main guard was posted over the General's car, and those lucky enough to escape turn of duty huddled together under cloaks and dozed fitfully until two-thirty. From two-thirty till sunrise we trekked on. Suddenly, just after good daylight, the Staff halted the column, glasses were put up, and away we swung half right into the veld. Up came the artillery and opened fire on a cluster of ant-sized figures four thousand yards ahead beneath the shoulder of a kopje. Had the thing not contained the very germ of tragedy it would have been laughable to see the way those figures scattered over the red veld. It was De Wet's commandos caught napping. Just before the shell fire our burghers had gone out ahead hell-for-leather on either flank. The whole column then advanced. After two hours' pretty hot work the action was over. We lost six killed against the rebels' twenty-two, and with twenty wounded on our side the rebel losses were proportionate. We took upwards of three hundred prisoners, De Wet himself escaping by the merest fluke. He lost all his transport, and generally ceased after the action to be a serious menace.
During the operations against De Wet I watched, when possible, the demeanour of the quiet South African patriot with whom fate had placed me in the field. I had last seen him many years before, gravely bowing from under a silk hat to a crowd that swayed and cheered as he drove through the streets of Manchester. And now duty found him in the field against an old comrade-in-arms. There was a sadness, there was a profound pathos about it. No wonder if to me it seemed that General Botha looked downcast indeed, if stern as well, during the Rebellion. Life, surely, was not dealing too fairly by him.
Following Mushroom Valley, we trekked, with two brief outspans only, to Clocolan, all the time scattering De Wet's followers. At Clocolan we paused for one day, entrained men and horses and reached Kimberley, via Bloemfontein, on the 18th of November. The following day rebel activities were reported in the direction of Bloemhof; but after an eventless journey we returned to Kimberley on the 21st.
SECTION III
KEMP'S ESCAPE
It was at Kimberley that news came through that Kemp was making a desperate cross-country trek to get into German territory in the Upington neighbourhood. A reference to a map will show that Upington, on the Orange River, is on the extreme western borders of the Union; and it must be said that the trek which Kemp and the remnant of his moderate force, poorly mounted and equipped, had made since being routed by General Botha on the 27th of October (a month before) stands as a remarkable piece of work. We pushed on to Prieska, via De Aar, and reached Upington, on the scarcely completed new line from Prieska, on the 25th of November. The journey over the desert stretch from Prieska to Upington was full of alarms; during the night the train halted in the lonely veld owing to a washaway, and we stood to arms, throwing out cossack-posts around the train wherein the Commander-in-Chief slept. It was tremendously exciting work.
The old town of Upington was transformed in those days. Around the Dutch Reformed Church, standing peaceful and dazzling white in the torrid sun, were tents, wagons, horses, motor-cars, signalling-parties, despatch-riders and infantry. Away over the hard red sand dunes to the north was the action zone, and from that direction every five minutes came sweating motor despatch-riders, who tore along to Headquarters. The following day news came through that the Imperial Light Horse and the Natal Carbineers had been engaging Kemp before and since dawn; almost cornered, he was making a final dash for the border to get into German South-West. It was an anxious time; each minute brought a fresh rumour as to the fighting and the thousands of men Kemp had got together for his desperate move. Our staff returned before dark, reporting an eventless day, with intermittent fighting. On the 28th the Staff went out in motors as far as Rooidam. They returned with bad news in the early afternoon. After a prolonged rearguard action Kemp had succeeded, taking over to the Germans with him a force which was said to be far greater than had been supposed. (Need I add that after events showed there had been gross exaggeration?)
I offer, with reserve, the following ingenious explanation of Kemp's escape; it was told me later by several who saw the action. Near the end of his terrific trek through from the North-Western Transvaal to the German outpost for which he was making, Kemp was hotly pursued by the loyalist troops. His men were exhausted. Half of them were dismounted. All his horses were spent. In these conditions he was forced to the most trying form of fight--the rearguard and flank action. With his goal practically right ahead, he reached three of the parallel large sand dunes with which the veld around Upington is scattered. They were on his left flank. He swerved into them. Hotly pursued, he crossed two, and under the lee of the second left a party of good shots. Then, cantering away over the third, he doubled round on his tracks and with his exhausted followers made for the German outpost. When the Union troops came up they were ambushed at short range, and the check they got just served the fleeing rebel. In the pursuit afterwards our parties found traces of buried rations for horses and men. These had been provided with German thoroughness.
The second phase of the Free State Rebellion was a pantomime more than anything else; a week's pantomime acted in the open veld in rain that never stopped. It was the most miserable week I have known. We left Upington on the 29th of November, reaching Kroonstad, Orange Free State, late next evening. Here the Commander-in-Chief was met by General Smuts, Minister for Defence; a consultation took place, and as a result we left by train for Bethlehem in the evening. Our arrival was timely, too. The place was in a perfect uproar. Nobody knew what was going to happen next. All the loyalistcivilians were under arms. The large mill of the Kaffrarian Steam Flour Company had been converted into a fort which was, in case of necessity, impregnable to rifle-fire. The rebels in the field had declared the New Republic practically established, with temporary capital at Reitz. Just before we saddled up to track them the news came of De Wet's capture on the Malopi River, near Mafeking. The news put everyone in fresher spirits. The charm around the famous guerilla fighter had broken. That the Rebellion was doomed we all knew. But most of us were weary, nevertheless. It furnished a refresher.
We left a happier Bethlehem at a rainy dawn the next day. Half way to Reitz we outspanned in the rain. It rained all night. The following morning came back to mind a talk an old soldier and I had once while freezing one early morning awaiting the Channel boat at Greenock. Alluding to cold and misery, he said: "You don't know what it is, my son, till you've been held up for three nights by rain in war-time in the South African veld, and spent the time standing in water. I did it outside Mafeking." Well, I understand a little now.
The next day our scouts entered Reitz; the rebels had fled. For two days we operated against them. A day later General Botha returned to Reitz. Nothing was said at the time. The fact was that before we entrained at Reitz, on the 7th of December, Wessel Wessels and Serfontein were surrounded. A day later they surrendered: the Orange Free State Rebellion, in all its futility, was over.
The last pursuit of Kemp. Flying column crossing the Orange River after him
Troops returning to Pretoria after Nooitgedacht. December 16, 1914
SECTION IV
FOURIE
Just before and during the Commander-in-Chief's long trek, other bodies of loyalist troops had been engaging the rebels. The most notable of these actions were against Muller at Bronkhorst Spruit (5th November, 1914; casualties, one killed and three wounded), and against Fourie at Hamanskraal (22nd November, 1914; casualties, three killed and ten wounded). Both these actions took place in the neighbourhood of Pretoria. As a result of them and the death of Beyers in the Vaal River, the Rebellion in the Transvaal was virtually smashed. There remained only Fourie to be dealt with.
Fourie, late Major in the South African Defence Force, possibly the most fanatical of all the rebels, appears to have been a man of character and proved courage. Having got away at the action at Hamanskraal, he and his younger brother were moving about in the veld with ex-Major Pienaar and a moderate force. Their fantastic purpose was said to be the taking of Pretoria itself on Dingaan's Day, the 16th of December. As all the South African world knows, this date marks the anniversary of the famous fight of the Voortrekkers at Blood River in 1838. The day before a force of South African Police, Defence Force, and South African Mounted Riflemen left Pretoria, detrained at Greyling's Post, on the Pietersburg Line, and started in pursuit of the last big rebel commando at large. In this move we of the Bodyguard found ourselves acting; General Botha, who had returned to Pretoria after his severe field work, had gone to his farm for a few days' rest before the South-West campaign.
Diagram of Nooitgedacht
We trekked at dawn and during the whole of the following day, with one rain-sodden halt, till four in the afternoon. The rebels had doubled in their tracks after reaching a large dam at Blaaubank. Late in the afternoon our scouts returned to the column and reported having located the enemy three miles ahead, entrenched in a donga, or dried-up stony river course, on the farm Nooitgedacht No. 4. We prepared for action, and encountered the rebels in the next half hour. This, the first true action I had been in, was an extremely dirty affair; a man who had gone through some of the worst fights in the South African War afterwards assured me it was the hottest corner he had ever been in. Bush-country fighting is detestable chiefly because you cannot see your enemy until you are on top of him. Our centre cantered in extended order up an avenue flanked by dense bush. We were laughing and asking where the deuce the rebels were, when a hail of rifle fire at short range greeted us. Our fellows were out of their saddles in a second, and advanced to the attack through the bush. Meantime, the South African Police extreme left had swept round to the head of the spruit on both sides of which the donga was formed, the South African Mounted Riflemen and more South African Police closed in, the Defence Force unit getting in rear and in flank of the rebels to cut them off. The attacking party had to work their way through open veld before they could charge the enemy; they made a mark as good as standing game. It was two and a half hours before the "Cease-fire" whistle sounded.
General Botha's train leaves the Orange Free State after the crushing of the Rebellion
Exhausted Troops after defeating De Wet in the Orange Free State
It fell to me to be a horse-holder (one man in each section is, of course, a horse-holder when mounted infantry are in action) in this fight. In nightmare I have passed that evening since--and wakened quickly, too. The worst of rifle fire is that you can hear bullets whizzing and spitting in trees, but it takes an experienced hand to divine direction. It was only afterwards I found out that a party of rebels were firing on our horses in rear. The horses knew it, though, and shewed it in their eyes. The sun came watery through the clouds just before sunset; I remember during the lulls in the wicked coughs of rifle fire hearing doves cooing gently in the sun-pierced trees.
Leaving Pretoria. General Botha's Bodyguard departing
Kits aboard. The Troops departing for the Front
Camp of the Bodyguard at Groote Schuur
When darkness fell we had captured Fourie, his brother and all his following, except nine men who made their escape at the beginning of the fight. The loyalist casualties in this action were twelve killed and twenty-four wounded. I saw a man who had shared a last cigarette with me as we rode into the action that afternoon lying dead on a blanket three hours later. In that instant I learnt something of the true meaning of war.
There are hundreds of brave deeds that must go unrecognised in these days. But from what I know of this particular action there was an amount of gallantry and quiet heroism displayed amongst the fellows that deserved more than casual comment. I could speak of things I saw, and would like to, moreover. But as for my pains a punched head from outraged modesty would be the reward I shall say no more.
A few days later Fourie was tried by court-martial, convicted, and shot at dawn. In the last days of December the few remaining rebels at large either surrendered or were captured. As the last days of the Old Year slipped by, rebellion within the Union of South Africa died out, and General Botha spent the holidays in peace on his farm at Rusthof--in the haven where he fain would be.
PART II
THE CAMPAIGN OF SOUTH-WEST AFRICA
SECTION I
THE PRELIMINARY CANTER
At the stroke of seven on the evening of January 13, 1915, a train steamed out of Pretoria station to the accompaniment of roars of cheering. And few in the imposing string of carriages that made the train were sober within the meaning of the act. But everyone was in the highest spirits. The Rebellion was over. The New Year was with us. After weary days our real business was on hand. We were off to German West at last.
We reached Cape Town on the 15th. I am particular about the date, not entirely as a result of a desire for meticulous accuracy. All who started on the South-West Campaign will remember their Cape Peninsula experience after the heat and burden of the Rebellion. The authorities might have chosen most of our camping grounds about Cape Town with the genial purpose of providing a kind of military holiday as a preliminary canter to the campaign proper. The unit to which I was attached had its temporary resting place on the slopes of Table Mountain at Groote Schuur, on the Rhodes Estate. And I fancy the world has on its vast surface few spots more alluring and more bracing to the spirit.
Up till that time South Africa itself had never put an expeditionary army, to be shipped by sea, on a war footing, and at Cape Town the work of equipping the South-West African Expeditionary Force was carried on and finished during the four weeks we were there. The quiet pine and fir lined roads on the Rondebosch side of Table Mountain complained daily under the traffic of wagons and motors, horses, mules and guns; it ruined the roads and begot unceasing clouds of dust.
And from breakfast-time till late afternoon every street leading to Cape Town and to the great Supply and Ordnance Stores at Maitland and at Portswood Road was filled with grey and khaki carts and wagons roaring steadily along in golden dust. In the whole Peninsula the normal interests of life were for the time being completely side- tracked.
Being associated directly with the Commander-in-Chief and Headquarters, we were fortunate in having our camp on the finest piece of ground on the estate; our tents stretched down a strip of sloping sward, sheltered from the wind by the wonderful trees that luxuriate on the lower falls of Table Mountain; from one's tent entrance the eye was caught by a panorama sweeping a radius of twenty miles inland. I shall never forget those days when in the morning wind and sun I helped to make out requisitions for shirts and breeches and saddlery to the notes of wood music; nor those nights when we lay in our blankets on the grass, stars swinging above, the town-lights winking away below us. It is not often in life that one slips into dreamless slumber on soft grass, lullabied by the night-song of a south-wester in pine trees centuries old.
If we had our discipline and our work at Cape Town, we had our compensations, too. At that time khaki was completely the fashion there. On the long promenade down Adderley Street to the pier-head you could have counted a dozen men in khaki to one in mufti. It reminded one of the days of the South African War fifteen years ago. There was naturally a tendency to make much of the soldier-visitor. It did not spoil him, though. A more orderly lot could not have been found. And this with the people whose guests we were in indulgent mood, and the civic authorities throwing open to us every amusement at their disposal.
Though there was work ahead we were all sorry to leave Cape Town.
Brothers in Arms. The British Navy and Botha's Bodyguard fraternised aboard. Many of the latter are, of course, pure South African
Boxing aboard. En route to German South-West Africa
On Friday, the 5th of February, we struck camp at sunrise. All our horses had been shipped the day before; we proceeded to the Docks by train and on foot. As showing the kindness with which the troops were treated I must mention that after the heavy work of embarking horses a body of one of the Ladies' War Organisations arranged refreshments for us at the railway station.
The journey by train from Groote Schuur to the City takes about fifteen minutes; by motor about a quarter of that time. But war-work is a trifle different; we were three hours on the heavily laden transport wagons before we got to the transport _Galway Castle_.
Many of us who have moved about a good deal and are fond of the sea were looking forward to that voyage. It was a four days' trip to Walvis Bay; we thought we would have rather a jolly time. Disillusion is hateful. And that trip was disillusionment itself. I suppose we inexperienced ones overlooked automatically the fact that we were in the ranks and travelling to war by transport. It wasn't a high-browed, superior outlook that caused our undoing, I fancy. The thing is, you must rough it soldiering by ship before you grasp the idea. There were other points, too.
Awaiting landing from the Transport
Trekking over the terrible Sand Dunes near the Coast, German South-West Africa
Some of the first Burghers to land at Walvis
When we got safely aboard the _Galway Castle_ many of us fancied, in expressive phrase, that we were "well away"; that we had struck a good thing. Our officers were accommodated in befitting state in the first class; our warrants and staff non-commissioned dignitaries were also fixed up in correct style; the rest of us had plenty of room and quietness to ourselves in the third class. All this by 2.30 in the afternoon.
And then eighteen hundred more warriors filed down the quays and, like Mr. Jim Hawkins, came aboard, sir. Now most of these were as good fellows as you could wish for; but they were landsmen, such as never go down to the sea in ships. A large proportion, indeed, had never seen the sea before viewing it at Cape Town. (South Africa is a fair-sized territory.) Very few of them were good sailors. It is not a man's fault that he is not a good sailor; nor is he to blame for knowing little of the ways that make for cleanliness and comfort under even the most trying conditions on shipboard. But on the whole we did not enjoy that four days' voyage to Walvis Bay. It was a case of bedlam as to noise, and "muck in" and take what you can get.
Though my knowledge of organisation for a campaign is not great, I would suggest that for campaign work the only kind of ship used should be a vessel absolutely and completely fitted up as a troopship. If the ships the Government used for the South-West campaign transport had all been fitted up uncompromisingly as "troopers" I fancy we should have fared better.
At 8 a.m. on the 9th we arrived at Walvis Bay. General Botha, who, with his Chief of Staff, A.D.C.'s, etc., had embarked at the Cape on the auxiliary cruiser Armadale Castle, arrived at Walvis later in the morning. We spent the day on board the Galway Castle awaiting orders and the disembarkation of horses.
Since the beginning of the operations in South-West Africa the world has been flooded with descriptions of Walvis Bay; at least I have seen two books with long descriptions of the place, and more than a dozen articles on the subject. I shall not add to this list by any long (and assuredly unconvincing) attempt at a new picture. When you have left the green-covered kopjes of the Cape a few days before and come to anchor in Walvis Bay on a cold morning you think you have reached No- man's-land after a fast voyage. It is a first impression only. The place is desolate enough; it suggests the Sahara run straight into the sea, or the discomforting dreariness of Punta Arenas, in Patagonia.
But first impressions are not everything. Walvis Bay is desolate; a study in yellow ochre sands, burnt sienna duns, tin shanties veiled in hot desert winds, and a sea that seldom knows anything more than a ripple. But that is the point. Walvis Bay is nothing now--but it is a bay. As a fact, it looks to be one of the finest natural harbours in the world. With the South- West interior developing in the future, Walvis Bay should have something to look forward to.
Before the Advance. General Botha photographed with the Red Cross Sisters
General Botha and Staff alighting for an Inspection.
(The famous Brigadier-General Brits, who trekked to Namutoni, is the fourth figure from the right.)
We left the Galway Castle on the 11th, disembarking into lighters, to be towed up the coast to the occupied German port of Swakopmund. Down to the tender, on to the lighter, kits and equipment, and farewell to the quietened steamer. For a while we stood away from her, and rose and fell under no way on the still grey waters. Then we saw a tender from the Armadale Castle steaming towards us. She came up on our starboard quarter and made fast. A figure well known to us all crossed the gangway and climbed to the boat-deck of our steam tender. We had not seen the Commander-in-Chief in personal command since the past bitter days of the Rebellion. A great cheer hit the morning silence and echoed over the bay to each transport at anchor. With a smile of genuine pleasure, General Botha brought his hand to the salute. And away we went, the tender steaming full speed ahead, blunt-nosed barges surging in her wake, for Swakopmund.
Swakopmund was the first Headquarters of the Northern Force, Union Expeditionary Army; we made two sojourns at this German port. First we were there for a period of some five weeks, from February 11 till March 18, whilst awaiting the first advance into the Namib Desert; then we were there for a further month, from the 27th of March till the 25th of April, whilst awaiting the general advance to Windhuk and Karibib.
Awaiting the Advance. The Commander-in-Chief at tea with the Red Cross Sisters
Awaiting the Advance. Garrison Sports at Swakopmund. Start for 100 yards race
Awaiting the Advance. Garrison Sports. Winner
It is difficult to write about Swakopmund. As a town it is the most extraordinary place I have seen. I use the superlative deliberately. But I do not wish to live there. It is purely artificial, and artificial to a ghastly degree too. There is not a spot of vegetation. There is not a genuine tree to be seen. The water has a detestable, unsatisfying blurred taste, to which the adjective "brackish" is applied. It is probable that a town occupied by enemy troops does not look at its best; but the fact that it was under such conditions when I first knew Swakopmund makes no important difference. The place in its essentials must always be the same. If ever there was a work of bluff Swakopmund is that thing. One fancies the German commercial expert, a Government official, or, maybe, a representative of the ubiquitous Woermann, Brock & Co., looking along this ferocious and awful coast for a spot to found a town that should appear on the maps and be esteemed a seaport. The Swakop River? Very well. Was there water there? But certainly so; water obviously of the worst quality--yet water. Besides, were there not always refrigerators and condensing machinery? Upon which Swakopmund was forced into existence--planked down there bit by bit in the face of circumstance. Walk a trifle over a thousand yards from the edge of the changeful Atlantic through Swakopmund's deep sandy streets and you get the key to the town. For it ceases utterly, abruptly; from the door of its last villa, fitted with perfect furnishings from Hamburg, the bitter desolation that is the Namib Desert stretches away from your, very feet. Marvelling at this place, I was particularly struck by the size of its cemetery. But I was not long puzzled. If you strike Swakopmund on a fine sunshiny day you will be pretty favourably impressed with the climate; it seems warm and temperate, and the sun sparkles on the sea.
In a week or so you will learn to modify that judgment. More than half the days we were at Swakopmund a heavy pall of dampness hung over the place, and after a day or two of it one's system seemed to be badly affected. Maybe we were not acclimatised, but the fact remains that a very large proportion of us were down with a kind of dysentery, attended by vomiting and violent pains in the stomach. Then there are days when the winds blow from the desert--an indescribable experience. They bring moths and flies with them, and great clouds of sand; it is a genuine labour to breathe, and at noon and for two hours after the temperature in the sun runs up into the "hundred-and-sixties." Swakopmund is not a health resort; or perhaps we dwelt there in the wrong season, But it is a monument to Teutonic determination. The Germans willed this town there, planted it on the edge of the wilderness; fitted it out, from bioscope theatre to church with organ and electric organola; and they lived in it, with the climate of perdition and all the accessories of a suburb of Berlin, and called it a seaport. It is not a seaport; in a fair gale you can't land a barrel of corks at the pier. But given time and they would have built in the face of nature a two million pounds breakwater and everything complete. Yes, they are a thorough people; they are human ants as regards work. Nevertheless, it is not colonising. The Germans are not colonists.
Army Headquarters were fixed at the Damaraland Building close to the shore--a splendidly equipped edifice, with a tower commanding a fifteen-mile-radius view of the desert and the sea. General Botha made the private quarters of the General Officer Commanding-in-Chief at the Woermann Line House close by.
When we arrived at the northern seaport it had been in our possession many weeks, but our troops were occupying the trenches just outside the town, and from the Damaralands Building Tower our look-out and signallers could see through the heat-haze the enemy's patrols moving to and fro in the glistening sands beyond.
Whilst awaiting orders for an advance, life at Swakopmund was in some ways quite good. There were two attractions: regimental concerts, when sanctioned, and the shore. South Africa at war differs in great degree from other parts of the world. The country has the germ in its blood. Men who have campaigned before felt the stirring in them when the South-West campaign started. The call for volunteers acted like a magnet. All sorts and conditions of men were found with the Forces in the South-West. Patriotism called them; but there called them also that deep-seated spirit of unrest which prompts so powerfully when war drums sound once again. I used to think Kipling exaggerated a trifle; now I know the truth. At the concerts on the South-West front the most astonishing array of talent was to be found. One such function in particular stands out in mind. The stage was made up of army biscuit boxes supporting rough planking outside a builder's yard in the deep sand. At a borrowed piano belonging to some vanished resident a trooper officiated; he was clothed in a grey back shirt and ammunition boots-- and displayed the daedal methods of a Fragson. Singers of every type with every kind of voice, and perfectly trained, performed. Only later did I learn that amongst the artists were half a dozen of the best performers in Johannesburg. And at the foreshore, between fatigues, drills, and spells of duty the fellows used to gather, to enjoy the one luxury of Swakopmund--the surf-bathing. Here you would meet men upon whom you never expected again to set eyes assembled literally from all over South Africa from the Cape to the Zambesi. Belonging to one regiment I met, in privates and corporals, six well-to-do farmers, a handful of solicitors, bank clerks, a sub-native commissioner or two, and the no longer youthful private secretary to one of the most eminent semi-public companies in Africa. And there we all were cut off from the outside world. Each evening we got an issue of the official Bulletin-- six square inches of paper thankfully received. For the rest we had no change from the perpetual sound of the sea and the mournful note of the bell-buoy that marks the inshore shoal. Its "dong-dong, dong-dong-dong" created a perfect illusion of the call to a tiny church through the country lanes of England. Everyone who was there can still hear the old bell-buoy at Swakopmund.
Swakopmund from the Lighthouse: Extreme Right
Swakopmund: Centre
Swakopmund: Extreme Left
Man and Beast in the Desert: both absolutely spent
Looking for Water in the River Bed
A Halt in a River Bed: General Botha has lunch
SECTION II
THE FIRST TREK INTO THE NAMIB DESERT
There were some skirmishes outside Swakopmund early in February. On the 23rd the Commander-in-Chief took the field; leaving the base shortly after dawn, he carried out a driving movement which pushed the enemy back from the outspan at Nonidas to his posts much further into the desert. In the course of this successful operation we first heard rumours that the Germans as a whole were not anxious to fight. The Union patrols captured several prisoners, amongst whom was an officer with whom I had several chats when I got the opportunity. As was the case with many of the prisoners afterwards taken, for a while he feigned total ignorance of English. It was not long before it became perfectly clear that he of course understood it well.
Following the operations on the 23rd of February, the mounted troops pushed steadily into the desert, occupying with merely nominal resistance Goanikontes, the water-hole and police post at Haigamkhab, and the water-hole at Husab.
On the 18th of March the Commander-in-Chief and Staff, with all forces except those detailed to the base and infantry already holding the line and stores depots, etc., trekked out from Swakopmund on what was officially described as a "reconnaissance." It was really the first big push into the Namib Desert. The enemy had taken up an extremely strong position on the edge of the desert proper, on the front indicated on the general diagram of the campaign marked Pforte-Jakalswater-Riet.
I have little official knowledge on the tactics of the campaign; it is necessary, however, here to allude to the plan of proceeding known to every one who took any part in it. The vital consideration to the advance of any army across the Namib Desert is to secure the water- holes on the Swakop River. The Swakop is by no means the usual prepossessing kind of stream that flows efficiently between wide banks. It flowed actually for a day just after General Botha landed at Swakopmund-- the first and last time, apparently, within the memory of man. But it has water in it nevertheless; and at fixed and charted spots are to be found bore-holes and wells for the convenience of dwellers in the profitless wilderness. The principal wells and holes are at the places marked on the diagram. General Botha's principal task was to take an army right across the Namib Desert, and to do that he had to capture every water-hole and keep it. It is true that at certain points in the Swakop and other of the large rivers of South-West Africa you can find water by digging very near the surface--perhaps. But when you have a parched army at your back you must deal as little as possible in speculation. At Riet and Jakalswater the enemy had determined to hold the valuable water-holes at any cost, but especially at Riet.
When General Botha treks he treks at express speed. With him the intention is that the essence of strategy shall be surprise. The Commander-in-Chief left Swakopmund at 2.30 a.m. on the 18th of March. We outspanned at Goanikontes, thirty-four kilos, at 10.30 that night. Goanikontes was left at 6.30 a.m., and the Husab Outspan was made at 10.20 that morning. The rest of the day was spent at Husab; at 6.30 in the evening the Commander-in-Chief, and with him General Brits, left for Riet, outspanned for a few hours and attacked the German position at Riet at dawn on the 20th. The general action which was fought on the Pforte-Jakalswater-Riet front on this day was conceivably the most important move of the campaign. It was essential that the water-holes should be secured.
Main Guard aboard--en route to hunt the Huns
On the Great Trek--the Chief of the Staff has a hair-cut
Action at Riet
Around Riet, the principal point of attack and defence, the disposition of the Germans was as strong as it is possible to imagine. My sketch of the place should give a fair idea of things. In the technical sense it is not a true plan; but accuracy is not sacrificed to clearness. The veld around the Riet water-holes is just a mass of small kopjes and rocks; it narrows to a small defile that opens suddenly on to the coverless Husab Road. This defile is the only main approach to the Riet wells, and it is commanded close up on both flanks--on the right by the great bare kopje, Langer Heinreich, on the other by small kopjes and a line of ridges.
In attacking this position General Botha had to consider not only the enemy's strength of position, but also the fact that his troops had to go into action after a waterless twenty-odd mile trek over the desert. As the Commander-in-Chief got up to his front on the 20th the big guns had started. The artillery duel continued well into the afternoon. Every credit is due to the other units, but it was our artillery that cracked the nut at Riet. The range was 2,700 yards; but the Germans never got it. Why it is difficult to say; they had every advantage, and one understands that the Germans are nothing if not artillerists. But they were a wash-out at Riet; they were over-firing the whole time. On the other hand, the Union gunners got the range at once and were all over the enemy. They put an ammunition wagon out of action after three shots, and did further deadly work. That afternoon General Botha sent a detachment out to attempt an enveloping movement. But they came back later, reporting that the slopes of Langer Heinreich on the right and the sharp kopjes on the left made the thing impossible.
As the afternoon came on I may say I don't think we knew too much about the state of affairs with the enemy, and when he ceased artillery fire about 3.30 p.m. everyone seemed pleased enough. Few knew then that the German Commander had begun to evacuate the position; his supply of shells was said to have run short. On account of our numbers, also, he feared an enfilading movement on his left flank should our mounted infantry advance to the defile Q.
In the meantime the authorities had decided we must find water in the rear; for that purpose a party was at once despatched to Gawieb, in the Swakop River bed. It was found by a party from the Commander-in-Chief's Bodyguard, and at the Gawieb Hole the greater part of the forces watered that night. And they took seven hours to do it.
Before sundown General Botha, with Staff and Bodyguard, fell back two miles on the Husab-Riet Road and camped there for the night. Scarcely had the Headquarters party arrived before news came that the enemy was in precipitate flight, had evacuated Riet and had blown up his small ammunition and railway water-tanks at the Riet terminus of the narrow gauge railway line to Jakalswater. Bodies of the Union troops had occupied Riet on the evening of the 20th.
The actions at the Jakalswater and Pforte fronts, to fight which the columns had swept away to our left the night before, were equally successful.
That is the general story of the fight of the 20th March on the inland edge of the Namib Desert. But how to picture vividly the scene before Riet that day? At dawn in those parts conditions are bearable enough; the sun has little strength; the night wind refreshes. From 6.30 till 10 o'clock the desert is endurable. Then comes the change. All along the front the stark yellow sand is taking on a different hue under the climbing sun rays. It turns almost to glaring whiteness all around-- to where it stops short at the foot of those scorched and smothered rocks on the left flank. To our right the members of the Headquarters Staff are standing--sitting--resting. An officer brings his glasses down slowly, blinks, feels for a pipe, lights it. Another moves head and extended arm to the right and makes a remark to a colleague. Along the ridge we occupy the Bodyguard are standing-to and watching the action; you see that fellow wearily ease a heavy bandolier; further down another brings an army biscuit from his haversack and breaks it on his boot.
And now look at that little group almost straight ahead of us; as the tall Chief-of-Staff moves aside you see a figure on a little camp stool. The left hand is just under the hip, binoculars are in the right; up go both hands with the glasses; down they come. He speaks to the Chief-of-Staff; there is the favourite gesture--the arm is jerked out horizontally, the hand pointing loosely, and dropped again. The face is powdered with fine sand and dust; during the day he has been allowed a small beaker of water from the artillery. A favour indeed. That is Botha--Louis Botha, Commander-in-Chief, the man who leads us. And on either flank, well screened, little knots of men are grouped round the guns--and "Hampang-ky-yao!" they go in our ears, their report carrying ten miles back into the desert where our transport hears them in muffled thunder. And look up as you hear that screeching whistle. The enemy's shells burst in the depression behind us on both flanks-- "Pa-ha-ha." They look like slabs of cotton wool against the brazen blue sky. And all afternoon the heat strikes up at you overpowering, like the breath of a wild animal. Then the wind rises, and the sand shifts in eddies. Veils and goggles are useless. They can't keep out that spinning curtain of grit. The horses rattle the hard, dry bits in their mouths, trying to get some moisture.
On the 21st Headquarters moved into Riet. Here we found two water-holes in the bed of the river; one was a splendid Persian well, with chain buckets. Riet was no paradise; it was a luxury though, even if the river sand was blinding, to lie under a wagon and hear the water running.
An unique picture of General Botha, the Commander-in-Chief and his Staff reconnoitring
After Riet water in blessed profusion
Our casualties in the actions on the Pforte-Jakalswater-Riet front were fifteen killed, thirty- nine wounded and forty-two missing. On the 21st our commandos occupied Salem, eight miles further up the Swakop River.