“General Gatacre, accompanied by Private Cross, was actually the first at the zareba,” says an eye-witness. “Cross, of the Camerons, bayoneted a big dervish who was aiming point blank at the General.” The simultaneous right attack by the Egyptians and Soudanese was also a fine spectacle. General Hunter himself, helmet in hand, led his men on to the zareba, but thirty yards from it was a strong stockade, backed by entrenchments, and this too had to be stormed. It was a thrilling quarter of an hour, and nothing could be finer than the way these almost insurmountable obstacles were tackled by our troops, and that in the face of the hottest fire imaginable from the dervish defenders.
Inside the zareba, from behind stockades, and from holes in the ground swarmed the black, half-naked dervishes, running everywhere, turning now and again to fire at their assailants, but making ever for the river. Scores of them lay stretched upon the ground. The slaughter was awful. Gradually the ground grew clearer. The maxims had galloped right up to the stockade and poured their merciless fire into the living contents of the zareba. The Warwicks “were volleying off the blacks as your beard comes off under a keen razor.” Death and destruction reigned on every side.
But the British had lost heavily. Captains Findlay and Urquhart of the Camerons had been killed storming the zareba. Lieutenant Gore of the Seaforths fell in the same place, and, indeed, most of our casualties were sustained at this place. “Never mind me, lads; go on!” called Captain Urquhart as he fell stricken; and go on they did, killing and slaying at every step. Piper Stewart of the Camerons was killed leading the way.
The fight was now practically over. Only the pursuit remained. On stumbled our men over the broken ground till suddenly there “came a clear drop under foot—the river. And across the trickle of water the quarter mile of dry sandbed was a flypaper with scrambling spots of black. The pursuers thronged the bank in double line,” says Mr. Steevens, “and in two minutes the paper was still black spotted, only the spots scrambled no more.” “Now that,” panted the most pessimistic senior captain in the brigade, “now I call that a very good fight!” Shortly after this the “Cease Fire!” sounded, and only the cavalry pursuit remained.
Nearly 4000 prisoners had been taken, including Mahmud himself, who was found hiding beneath a native litter. Zeki, formerly Governor of Berber, was killed. Osman Digna, wily to the last, had again escaped, but all the other important dervish emirs were among the dead. The former, with his horsemen, at an early period of the action got into the river bed and made off in the direction of Damara. They were pursued by General Lewis’s cavalry, but the jungle on the river banks was so dense that the pursuit had to be abandoned. Colonel Broadwood, however, chased a large party of dervishes into the desert, where he captured a number of prisoners.
The British casualties were three officers and 18 men killed, with 88 wounded. Four British officers and two British non-commissioned officers belonging to the Egyptian and Soudanese brigades, and 14 native officers were wounded, while the native regiments lost 50 killed and 319 wounded.
Other accounts put the total Anglo-Egyptian loss at 81 killed and 493 wounded, out of the 12,000 men in action. The dervish dead alone numbered 3000, and Mahmud’s ten guns and hordes of prisoners showed the significance of the crushing victory at the Atbara. The jubilation among the British force was great, and loud cheers marked the termination of the battle. After the engagement, the Sirdar, who had been under fire all the morning, rode over the battlefield. He was received with enthusiastic cheers by every regiment of the British brigade, which he thanked individually for their gallant victory. He also received an ovation from the Egyptian and Soudanese, among whose trophies were a great number of standards, spears,and drums, in recognition of the signal gallantly shown by the native troops.
The Sirdar provisionally promoted on the field a sergeant-major of each native battalion which crossed the zareba, to subaltern rank. In conversation with Colonel Money, whose helmet had been traversed by a bullet, the Sirdar, referring to the slow and steady advance of the Camerons under a withering fire when attacking the zareba, said:—“It was one of the finest feats performed for many years. You ought to be proud of such a regiment.” Colonel Money replied that he was “right proud of it.”
In the afternoon the three British officers killed and the 18 British soldiers who fell in the action were buried on the gravelly slope near the zareba where they met their fate, and the graves were afterwards covered with a zareba to prevent their desecration. “The burial service,” says an eye-witness, “was most impressive. It was attended by the Sirdar, Generals Hunter and Gatacre and their respective staffs, by every officer off duty, and by detachments of all the regiments. No farewell shots were fired, but a firing party presented arms, and the band of the 11th Soudanese and the Highland pipers played laments.”
Inside the zareba, visited after the fight, the dervishes lay dead in scores, choking the rifle pits and entrenchments, and “it was curious,” says one who was present at this exploration of the late battlefield, “to see the Soudanese soldiers filling their water-bottles from a pool containing dead dervishes.” About an hour after sunset, the wearied troops returned to their camp at Umbadieh, which they reached about three o’clock on the Saturday morning. The wounded started an hour or two later.
The captive Mahmud attracted much attention, and all were eager to catch a glimpse of the famous Arab leader. To the Sirdar, who interviewed him, he said little but that the campaign had been conducted at the Khalifa’s orders. He preserved a stoical silence on all other subjects, and seemed indifferent as to his fate. He was described by those who saw him as a remarkable-looking man, of grand physique and good features. “He has,” says one of these, “a dignified presence, and a quite natural haughty disregard of the common herd. He looks intelligent and strong-willed. He is being well treated. In his captured stronghold were found six heads fixed on poles, and one body, dreadfully mutilated.”
On the Sunday following the battle, when the camp had been moved from Umbadieh to Abadar, a great church parade was held, and a thanksgiving service for victory conducted by the chaplains of all denominations present with the forces. At itsconclusion the British Brigade was formed up in square, and the Sirdar, advancing to the centre, read a telegram from the Queen, which filled the heart of every listener with pride. “I greatly rejoice,” said Her Majesty, “at brilliant victory.” And then, with her infallible consideration and womanly sympathy, “I desire to be fully informed as to the state of the wounded.” Needless to say, the reading of this message provoked the wildest enthusiasm, and at the call of the Sirdar three hearty cheers for the Queen rent the stifling desert air. Other congratulations were to follow. From the Khedive, Mr. Balfour on behalf of the Government, Lord Lansdowne, Lord Cromer, and others too numerous to mention heartfelt expressions of joy and pride kept pouring in, and “In short,” said the Sirdar, in conclusion, “everyone is extremely proud of the conduct of the army in the field.”
It is impossible to take leave of the battle of the Atbara without quoting somewhat extensively from the narrative of a soldier who was through the fight. Corporal Inglis, of the Cameron Highlanders, gives a vivid picture of the great engagement:—
“As we approached the enemy’s position,” writes this gallant non-commissioned officer, “my feelings got a bit of a shock. I was thinking of home, and wondering if that day was to finish my existence, when a large flock of vultures came swooping down, and settled right in front of us. I had often read about them, but never saw them before. Some instinct surely tells them of a coming battle. It made a lot of our fellows feel queer for a bit, as the big brutes kept walking up and down, looking at us. We moved on till within 500 yards of the enemy’s front. We could see all was bustle and excitement within the camp. We halted, charged magazines with several rounds, and sat down with fixed bayonets, and for the next hour were interested spectators of the Egyptian artillery shelling the enemy.... Just as the advance sounded, one of our men was shot through the head. We ran under a heavy fire till within one hundred yards of the zareba, when we got on the knee and poured in five terrible volleys. What a terrific noise! We could see the enemy looking over their zareba and laughing in our faces, all the while keeping up a heavy fire upon us. We ran till close to the zareba. I was in the front rank, and another chap and I caught hold of a branch, and, turning, hauled it clean away, leaving the palms of our hands badly torn and bleeding. Men at other parts did the same, and as soon as the dervishes saw their protection giving way, they jumped out of the pits (in which they were lying), fired a volley into our midst, and eventually turned tail. Clutching my rifle in my hand, the fearful work now began of bayoneting the dervishesin the pits. Lots of them could not get out, and they fought in desperate fashion.”
The treachery of the dervishes is well shown by the same graphic narrator:—
“One lance-corporal was running up the hill through their huts when three of them made for him. He shot one, bayoneted another, and then the third man threw down his spear and held up his hands (in token of surrender). The lad pointed to the rear, allowing his captive the way to take for safety, and was in the act of running after the enemy again, when the man he had spared picked up a rifle and blew the lance-corporal’s brains out. General Gatacre was running up behind, and, seeing the incident, gave the dervish such a blow with his sword that he nearly severed his head from his body. After that the order was given to show no mercy. It was not easy to distinguish the men from the women. A woman was on the point of being stabbed, when the fellow discovered his mistake and, laughing, turned away, when she immediately ran a spear clean through him. In an instant four bayonets pierced her body. On ceasing fire I found myself alone, wondering how I had escaped, and a fervent ‘thank God!’ escaped my lips.”
With such stirring tales as this the battle of the Atbara was brought to a successful issue, and crushing was its effect upon the forces of the Khalifa. Not until September were the dervish forces able once more to confront the arms of Britain, and then for the last time.
Though the snake of Mahdism had been severely scotched at the Atbara, it was far from being killed, and from the termination of that battle preparations were steadily pushed forward for the final overthrow of the Khalifa.
The magnitude of these preparations was upon a scale never before seen in the Soudan, and the army, assembled at Wad Hamed by the end of August, the largest that had ever taken the field in that disordered region. Regiment by regiment the troops poured into the town of Wad Hamed, the point of concentration chosen by the Sirdar, till the Egyptian army had been raised to nearly double its strength, and its attendant flotilla of gunboats vastly augmented. The railway had been pushed forward to Atbara, and, trainload after trainload, thetroops dismounted almost upon the scene of the former battlefield, and pushed steadily southward, British, Egyptian, and even the recent dervish foe, all pressed into the service of the British army.
Mr. Steevens’ description of the changed conditions at Atbara is graphic in the extreme:—
“The platform was black and brown, blue and white, with a great crowd of natives. For drawn up in line opposite the waiting trucks were rigid squads of black figures.... The last time we had seen these particular blacks they were shooting at us. Every one had begun life as a dervish, and had been taken prisoner at or after the Atbara. Now, not four months after, here they were, erect and soldierly, on their way to fight their former masters, and very glad to do it.... In mid-April the Atbara was the as yet unattained objective of the railway; in mid-July the railway was ancient history, and the Atbara was the point of departure for the boats. Just a half-way house on the road to Khartoum.” And, adds Mr. Steevens sententiously, “What a man the Sirdar is!” Indeed, such organisation has seldom been seen before or since.
The force destined to overthrow the last stronghold of Mahdism was made up of two infantry divisions, one British and one Egyptian; one British cavalry regiment, and ten squadrons of Egyptian horse, and eight companies of camel corps, with batteries of artillery, a siege train and maxims—the latter to be used with deadly effect against the army of the Khalifa. The usual medical services and transport, both by land and river, completed the equipment. Six “fighting gunboats” accompanied the expedition.
The British infantry division was under the command of Major-General Gatacre, and Colonels Wauchope and Lyttelton respectively commanded its two brigades. The first brigade was made up to nearly 3500 strong, and consisted of Camerons, Seaforths, Lincolns, and Warwicks, with a maxim battery. Four battalions, each over 1000 strong, of respectively 1st Northumberland Fusiliers, 2nd Lancashire Fusiliers, 2nd Rifle Brigade, and the 1st Grenadier Guards constituted the second brigade. The whole division was thus about 7500 strong.
The Egyptian Infantry division consisted of four brigades (in place of the three which had fought at the Atbara), and its first, second and third brigades respectively under the commands of Macdonald, Maxwell, and Lewis, were constituted as before. The fourth, under Collinson Bey, consisted of the 1st, 5th, 17th, and 18th Egyptian regiments. The total Egyptian Division numbered 12,000 men.
The cavalry numbered 1500 in all, of whom 500 were the 21st Lancers, under Colonel Martin, and the remainder BroadwoodBey’s Egyptian horse. Long Bey, of the Egyptian army, had supreme command of the artillery—forty-four guns and twenty maxims.
With camel corps and transport, the total land force numbered some 22,000 men of all arms.
On the 23rd August, 1898, the Sirdar held a general review of this imposing force at Wad Hamed, and company after company filed past the commander-in-chief, stirring the dust of the desert in dense clouds. Early on the 24th, the march south began. Rumours were rife in camp as to the Khalifa’s intentions and probable plan of action. It was thought by some that he would advance to meet our force in the open, by others that he would entrench himself in the fastness of Omdurman. His army was reported 45,000 strong.
Hajir was the first object of attainment by the British army, a distance of 40 miles from Omdurman, and thence the route lay by Kerreri, where a low range of sandstone hills inland led to the Khalifa’s city. The work of shifting quarters from point to point was characterised with the mechanical and infallible precision which marked every move of the Sirdar’s vast army. Writing from Wad Hamed about noon of the 26th August, the historian of the war says, “The camp is a wilderness of broken biscuit-boxes and battered jam tins”—where but a few hours before had been concentrated a force of 20,000 men.
Slowly the army marched south, and for a week its progress was uneventful. Moving in the form of a vast square, with sides a mile long, it crept nearer and ever nearer to Omdurman.
By the 28th, Gebel Royan, or Hajir, was reached, and from the hill overlooking the camp the Nile could be viewed almost up to Omdurman itself, and at this period the first dervish cavalry patrols were sighted. These, however, fell back without showing fight The same day the gunboat Zafir, the flagship of Captain Keppel, sprang a leak and sank within a few moments. The utmost coolness was displayed by all on board, Captain Keppel being the last to leave, and no lives were lost, but the Zafir was, of course, rendered useless, and the naval commander’s flag was transferred to the Sultan.
A striking example of the altered conditions of warfare in modern times is to be found in an observation of Mr. Steevens at this point. “The correspondents,” he says, “would find the chief disadvantage of rain (of which the army had had by this time considerable experience) in the possible interruption of the field telegraph, which has been brought here, and will probably advance further.” An admirably-equipped field telegraph formed a not unimportant adjunct to the army’s equipment. From now on, reconnaissances were of frequent occurrence, and on the 30th, some five Arab horsemen were overtaken and capturedby Major Stuart-Wortley’s friendlies, and shortly afterwards the army reached Kerreri.
From this point Omdurman was clearly visible, “the Mahdi’s tomb forming the centre of a purple stain on the yellow sand, going out for miles and miles on every side, a city worth conquering.” Clearly visible, too, was the enemy’s army, a long white line stretching in front of the city wall with a front of three miles.
On September 1 an admirable and final reconnaissance was effected, and the enemy’s exact position and strength located. On the night of September 1st, the British army bivouacked under arms at the village of Agaiga, fully expecting the Dervish attack, but not until the morning of the 2nd did our scouts report the entire dervish army to be advancing against the British position. Their front was estimated at between three and four miles. Countless banners fluttered over their serried masses, and they chanted war-songs as they came steadily on.
Short and sharp came the orders from headquarters, and in a very short time the British army had taken up its appointed position in front of its camp at Agaiga. On the left were the 2nd battalion Rifle Brigade, the Lancashire Fusiliers, the Northumberland Fusiliers, and the 1st battalion Grenadier Guards, with the maxim battery manned by the Irish Fusiliers. Then came the 1st battalion Royal Warwickshire regiment, the Cameron and Seaforth Highlanders, and the 1st battalion Lincolns in the order named, with a battery of maxims directed by the Royal Artillery. The Soudanese brigades, under Generals Maxwell and Macdonald continued the fighting line, with the Egyptian brigades, under Generals Lewis and Collinson, in reserve. Captain Long had his maxim nordenfelt batteries on both flanks. The British fighting line formed a large obtuse angle, with its convex side towards the enemy. Facing either flank of it were, on the British right, the heights of Kerreri, on their left the hill of Gebel Surgham. Between these two the enemy was now seen to be advancing.
About 6.30 a.m. the British opened fire with a suddenness which must have startled the advancing foe. Frightful was the execution done during these first few moments of Omdurman. The foe were mown down in handfuls, yet fresh men ever rushed forward to fill their places, and still for a time they pressed forward.
“No white troops,” says Steevens, “could have faced that torrent of death for five minutes, but the Baggara and the blacks came on. The torrent of lead swept into them, and hurled them down in whole companies. You saw a rigid line gather itself up and rush on evenly; then, before a shrapnel shell or maxim the line suddenly quivered and stopped. Theline was yet unbroken, but it was quite still. Sometimes they came near enough to see single figures quite plainly. One old man with a white flag started with five comrades; all dropped, but he alone came bounding forward to within 200 yards of the 14th Soudanese. Then he folded his arms across his face, and his limbs loosened, and he dropped sprawling to earth beside his flag.” In such manner did the Mahdists fight their last great fight, but the issue of this, the first stage of the battle, was not long held in the balance. By eight o’clock firing ceased, the Dervishes being by this time all out of range, and leaving scores of dead upon the field.
Half an hour later the advance was sounded, and in the order known as “echelon of brigades” the troops moved off towards Omdurman. As they approached the hill of Gebel Surgham a heavy dervish fire broke out, and it was then apparent that the Khalifa had divided his army into three. The first portion had attacked the British camp at Agaiga in front; the second, under Ali Wad Helu and the Sheik el Din, had moved towards Kerreri to envelop the British right; the third, under the Khalifa himself, lay in wait behind Gebel Surgham, where they had bivouacked the previous night.
Both flanks were soon hotly engaged, and former scenes repeated. When the Dervishes drew off behind the ridge in front of their camp, the Sirdar detailed General Lewis’s and General Collinson’s Egyptian brigades, which up to this point had been held in reserve, to watch the attempt which the dervishes made to overwhelm our left, and meanwhile the cavalry were sent on in advance.
Just as the brigades reached the crest adjoining the Nile, the right, comprising the Egyptian brigades, marched out of camp and became engaged with the enemy. The action was now general. It was found that the Dervishes had re-formed under cover of the rocky eminence two miles from camp, and had marched under the black standard of the Khalifa in order to make a supreme effort to retrieve the fortunes of the day. Meanwhile a mass of about 15,000 strong bore down upon the two Egyptian brigades on our right. These, supported by a battery of maxims, succeeded in forming up steadily in order to face the Dervish attack. The Sirdar swung round his centre and left, leaving the 1st British Brigade with General Wauchope with the transport. General Maxwell’s Soudanese brigade seized the rocky eminence, and General Macdonald’s brigade joined the firing line.
In ten minutes—before the attack could be driven home—the flower of the Khalifa’s army was caught in a depression, and came under the withering cross-fire of three brigades and their attendant artillery. Manfully the devoted Mahdists stroveto make headway, but their rushes were swept away, and their main body mown through and through by the sustained and deadly fire of the Sirdar’s troops. Defiantly the Dervishes planted their standards and died by them. It was more than human nature could bear, and after the dense mass had melted to companies, and companies to driblets, they broke and fled, leaving the field white with jibbah-clad corpses, like a meadow dotted with snowdrifts.
Meanwhile on the left was taking place the great incident of the battle of Omdurman—the fine charge of the 21st Lancers against enormous odds. Colonel Martin’s orders were to prevent the broken enemy from returning to Omdurman, five miles away from the field of battle. The 21st Lancers unexpectedly came upon the enemy’s reserves behind Gebel Surgham, who were 2000 strong, but whose precise strength could not be ascertained owing to the nature of the ground. The cavalry were then in column of troops. They deployed into line for the attack, and charged. When they were within thirty yards of the enemy they found the latter, who had been ensconced in a nullah, and had been concealed by a depression of the ground.
Wild with excitement, coming on to the attack, the Lancers had not a single moment for hesitation. They charged gallantly home, the brunt of the business falling on No. 2 Squadron, who absolutely had to hack their way through the enemy, twenty deep, exposed as they were to a withering infantry fire. They struggled through, but every man who fell was immediately hacked to pieces by the swords of the fanatic foe. The men of the British cavalry rallied, bleeding and blown, on the far side of the lanes which they had cut for themselves in the enemy’s ranks, and with admirable fortitude they re-formed as coolly as if they had been on parade.
One corporal who was covered with blood and reeling in his saddle, was yelling, “Fall in! fall in!” to the remnant of his company. “Fall out, corporal; you’re wounded!” roared an officer. “No, sir! Fall in!” bawled the wounded man, waving his bent lance; “Form up, No 2!” and No. 2 Squadron re-formed—four whole men all told.
Then it was that Lieutenant Grenfell was missed for the first time. Lieutenant de Montmorency, with Corporal Swarback, dashed out to effect, if possible, the rescue of his body. They were immediately joined by Captain Kenna. With their revolver fire the two officers kept the enemy forty yards away, and would have secured Lieutenant Grenfell’s body if the horse upon which it was placed had not shied with its burden.
Seeing that a second charge would be futile, Colonel Martin dismounted his men, and with magazine and carbine fire drove the enemy steadily back into the zone of the Anglo-Egyptianinfantry fire, the Lancers having accomplished their object by covering the enemy’s line of retirement, though at the cost of heavy casualties.
“This maiden charge of the 21st Lancers,” says an eye-witness, “is regarded as an extremely brilliant affair.”
All over the field the enemy were falling back before the tremendous fire of the British, but a last splendid stand was made by the Khalifa’s most devoted followers to the south-west of Gebel Surgham. Upon Macdonald fell the brunt of this last and most determined engagement. Suddenly the enemy poured down from Kerreri upon Macdonald’s right, and for a moment things looked critical. “To meet the attack he turned his front through a complete half circle. Every tactician in the army was delirious in his praise. ‘Cool as on parade’—Macdonald was very much cooler. Beneath the strong square-hewn face you could tell that the brain was working as if packed in ice. He saw everything. Knew what to do. Did it. All saw him and knew they were being nursed to triumph.” The issue was not long; the British fire tremendous. Soon the enemy remaining fled in all directions, and the fight was won.
At a quarter past eleven the Sirdar sounded the advance, and the whole force in line drove the scattered remnants of the foe into the desert, while the cavalry cut off their retreat to Omdurman. At 12.55 the Anglo-Egyptian column, preceded by the Sirdar with the captured black standard of the Khalifa, headed for Omdurman once more, this time unopposed.
The slaughter of Omdurman had been appalling. The dervish casualties reached the astonishing total of 11,000 killed, 16,000 wounded, and over 4000 prisoners. The Anglo-Egyptian losses were phenomenally small, some 66 killed of all ranks in both forces—387 killed and wounded together. Such was the extraordinary disparity in the numbers. The Khalifa himself escaped with the Sheik el Din to Omdurman. Ali Wad Helu was wounded. Mahdism was completely overthrown. The only dervish force now left in the field was that of the garrison of Gedaref up the Blue Nile. Here, some days later, Parsons Pasha, the Governor of Kassala, killed 700 of this number, and dispersed the rest, with a loss of only 37 killed.
No words can be too high in praise of the courage and discipline of the Egyptian troops. Led by such able men as Macdonald and Lewis, they had proved themselves first-class fighting men, and hearty congratulations were conveyed to all ranks from Her Majesty the Queen when the news of Omdurman became known in Britain.
Newspaper correspondents suffered heavily on the day of Omdurman. The Hon. Hubert Howard, acting for the “Times,” was killed by a bullet, but not till the end of the day. ColonelRhodes, of the “Times,” and Mr. Williams, of the “Daily Chronicle,” were wounded. Mr. Cross, of the “Manchester Guardian,” died shortly afterwards of enteric fever—a heavy list in all.
Meanwhile the advance to Omdurman continued, and about two o’clock in the afternoon the city of the Khalifa was reached. Here for some days past the gunboats had been doing considerable execution. The forts on Tuti Island had been totally demolished, and the dome of the Mahdi’s tomb and the mosque of Omdurman partially destroyed. The destruction thus wrought became clearly visible as the British troops approached the city. They were met on the outskirts by “an old man on a donkey, with a white flag,” and after some parley with the Sirdar, and an assurance that the British would not put all the inhabitants to the sword, the way was continued into the heart of the city. Strange scenes were witnessed. Assured at length that the victors would not massacre and pillage, the inhabitants streamed out in their thousands, and, with shrill shouts of welcome, escorted the British soldiers through the streets.
“Yet more wonderful were the women,” says Steevens. “The multitude of women whom concupiscence had harried from every recess of Africa and mewed up in Baggara harems, came out to salute their new masters. There were at least three of them to every man. Black women from Equatoria, and almost white women from Egypt. Plum-skinned Arabs, and a strange yellow type ... the whole city was a monstrosity of African lust.”
The capture of the Khalifa himself was the one thought uppermost in every mind as the British troops streamed into Omdurman, and the Khalifa’s citadel was the first object of the quest. Here were found the numerous members of his bodyguard, but the leader himself had disappeared, slipping out of his conquered city, even as the white troops had marched in! All ranks were much chagrined by this failure to capture the wily dervish leader, but it was felt that his power was broken once and for all, as indeed proved to be the case. The work of disarming his bodyguard proceeded apace, and very soon, finding they had little to fear from the victorious troops, the inhabitants of Omdurman set to work to loot the Khalifa’s corn. Among the captives released were Sister Teresa, a captive nun, who had been forcibly married by the Khalifa’s orders to a Greek, and Charles Neufeld, a captive German merchant, who had suffered many years of imprisonment and brutality, and whose record of life in the Khalifa’s capital is full of interesting details and unique experiences.
By this time evening had set in, and all ranks wereexhausted with the labours of the day, though the army continued to pour into Omdurman. “Where the bulk of the army bivouacked, I know not,” says the historian of the campaign, “neither did they. I stumbled on the second British brigade, and there, by a solitary candle, the Sirdar, flat on his back, was dictating his despatch to Colonel Wingate, flat on his belly. I scraped a short hieroglyphic scrawl on a telegraph form and fell asleep on the gravel with a half-eaten biscuit in my mouth.”
On the 3rd September the majority of the army moved out to Khor Shamba, where they camped. The stench of Omdurman was found to be intolerable. Dead donkeys lay about the streets, and filth and squalor were perceptible on every side; the boasted capital of Mahdism proved to be little more than a vast collection of miserable hovels, and one and all were glad to be out of it, if only into the fresh air of the desert. Preparations were now made for one of the crowning acts of the campaign—the visible avenging of Gordon, who had died so nobly at Khartoum, distant less than two miles up the Nile.
Here, on the morning of Sunday, 4th September, the Union Jack and the Egyptian crescent were flung to the desert breeze, above the ruins of the Residency of Khartoum, half a dozen paces from the spot where Gordon died.
The Sirdar, accompanied by the Divisional Generals, the Brigadiers, and the full staffs, together with detachments from all branches of the Anglo-Egyptian army, steamed up the Blue Nile to the ruins of Khartoum, early in the morning, and landed at the Masouri stage on the river bank opposite the Residency. Gordon’s old palace, though gutted, was still intact in its foundations. On the summit of the dismantled walls two flagstaffs were raised, and detachments of representative troops, with the band of the 11th Soudanese regiment, the drums and fifes of the Grenadier Guards, and the pipes of the Highland regiments, formed up reverently round the historic spot, the gunboat Melik being made fast to the quay beside the Residency. In the centre were the Sirdar and his full personal staff, on the right the Divisional Generals and their staffs, and on the left a detachment of officers and sappers of the Royal Engineers—Gordon’s old corps. The background was composed of the picturesque ruins of Khartoum, amid which were growing wild palms, acacias, and lemon trees.
At ten o’clock the Sirdar gave the signal, and amid the crash of the first saluting gun and the opening strains of the British National Anthem, the personal aide-de-camp to the Sirdar and Lieutenant Staveley unfurled the Union Jack. The Egyptian aide-de-camp to the Sirdar and Major Nutford next hoisted the Khedivial Crescent, and thus the cry for vengeance heard forfifteen long years was for ever stilled. Amid the booming of the salutes and the rolling bars of the British and Khedivial National Anthems could be heard the shrill cries of crowds of natives and slaves exulting at their emancipation from cruel serfdom. Then the music changed. The Highland pipers wailed out a dirge, and the fifes of the Grenadier Guards played a dead march in memory of Gordon and of the heroes fallen in the late battle.
Now the chaplains to the forces—the Rev. J. M. Simms (Presbyterian), the Rev. A. W. B. Watson (Anglican), and the Rev. Robert Bundle (Roman Catholic), read appropriate passages of Scripture and prayers. The religious service was followed by the firing of 15 minute guns. The impressive and touching service was brought to a close by the Sirdar calling on the troops to give three cheers for Her Majesty the Queen-Empress and the Khedive. They were given with a fervour which awoke the echoes for miles around.
What may be described as a side-ceremony then began. Fifes played the Dead March, pipes wailed a lament, and the band played Gordon’s hymn, “Abide with me.” When the solemn music ceased all the general officers stepped forward and congratulated the Sirdar, and half an hour was subsequently spent in visiting the chief historical points of the ruined city and the totally dilapidated remains of the steps on which Gordon was killed.
The Sirdar then re-embarked and returned to camp. There were those who said that during the closing ceremonies he could hardly speak or see for emotion. “What wonder? He had trodden this road to Khartoum for fourteen years, and he stood at the goal at last. Thus, with Maxim, Nordenfelt, and Bible we buried Gordon after the manner of his race.”
Of the subsequent advance through the former country of the Khalifa a correspondent gives a vivid picture. “If ever there were any who entertained a thought of pity for the Khalifa and his following when they considered the crushing force which is advancing to their annihilation, if they could have been with us upon the road during the last few days, all thought of sentiment and pity would have vanished, and even the most philanthropical would have longed, as do we, to volunteer our aid in ridding the world of a tyrant so brutal and a butcher so ferocious.
All along the line of march there are evidences that the country was once a flourishing, populous province, well cultivated where occasion offered. Yet to us it was a wilderness of desolation, every mile with its evidences of the tragic means by which it had been depopulated, and every landmark showing the handiwork of the ruthless destroyer. From end to end it hasbeen swept with fire and sword. The very crops have grown, withered, and died without a hand to gather them. Mile after mile of earthen village lies deserted, ruined and destroyed, and now in the courtyards where the women were wont to grind corn and card cotton, with their children playing at their skirts, jackal and hyena disport amongst the broken distaffs and the bones of the murdered women and butchered infants. Well may we cry, ‘Retribution and Khartoum!’”
The war of 1899-1901 in South Africa is of too recent date to call for a very minute exposition of the causes which led up to it.
The first appearance of the Dutch in South Africa took place in 1652. On the invitation of the Netherlands Government, Britain seized Cape Colony in 1795, holding it for a period of seven years, when it was restored to the Netherlands. Five years later Britain again seized it, and it was finally ceded to them upon a payment of £6,000,000. From this time forward strife commenced between the Boers and the British immigrants. English was the language chosen for the law courts of Cape Colony, and all slaves of whom the Boers held many thousands, were freed under British rule. Both these happenings gave great offence, and in 1836 the Boers made their “Great Trek” into new territory.
Says Mr. Julian Ralph in his history of the late war:—“Great Britain never ceased to regard the Boers as her subjects, and yet did nothing to interfere with their course or the government which they set up.”
In 1852, after many bickerings, the famous Sand River Convention established the Transvaal Republic, over which Great Britain “held the right to impose conditions, upon which she granted the Boers what rights they held, and this British overlordship was acknowledged by them without protest.” The Orange Free State was set up under somewhat similar conditions, with, however, somewhat more extended privileges than those enjoyed by the Transvaal. The Transvaal government went from bad to worse. Frequent friction with the natives, marked by savage cruelties on both sides, and the virtual enslaving of many natives, brought the Government of the Transvaal into disrepute, and in 1877 the British Commissioner, Sir Theophilus Shepstone, formally annexed the Transvaal,reporting that the majority of people desired annexation. Protests were, however, numerous, and shortly after order had been apparently restored the newly-annexed territory revolted, defeating the British forces at Laing’s Nek and Majuba Hill, in what has become known to posterity as the First Boer War.
An armistice was ordered by Mr. Gladstone’s Government in March, 1881, and the Boers were granted self-government under British suzerainty. Further independence was granted to them in 1884.
The discovery of gold in the Transvaal Republic had by this time led to a great rush of new settlers, called by the Boers, the “Uitlanders,” to whose energy the present prosperity of the country was now largely due. These European settlers, the Uitlanders, were of course subject to the laws of the Transvaal, and very soon they found that instead of possessing equal rights with Transvaal burghers, though forming nearly three-fourths of the white population, they were at disadvantages in every way. Dutch was the only language of government, and was taught in the public schools. British citizens were assaulted, and even murdered by agents of the Transvaal with impunity, and right of franchise was refused.
The Uitlanders determined on revolt, and a somewhat premature movement was made by Dr. Jameson, in his famous, and of course disastrous, raid. Negotiations now ensued, and Sir Alfred Milner, the High Commissioner at the Cape, held many meetings with President Kruger of the Transvaal, with a view to securing fair and equal rights for the Uitlanders. The sequel is fresh in the minds of all. Prevarications, endless delays, and abortive conferences followed—the Boers all the while arming themselves for the forthcoming conflict which they had virtually decided upon. The British yoke was to be thrown off once and for all.
Gradually Britain massed her forces in South Africa, and when finally, on the 9th October, 1899, the Boer Government presented a virtual ultimatum, war became inevitable. The ultimatum protested against the right of the British Government to interfere in the affairs of the Transvaal. It demanded the withdrawal from South Africa of the British reinforcements, and it desired an answer to these demands before 5 p.m. on the day in question. The British reply was brief and to the point; it merely announced that Her Majesty’s Government had no further announcement to make to Mr. Kruger.
At first the British preparations were wholly inadequate. Some 20,000 British troops in all were available on the spot, but a complete army corps of 50,000 men, under Sir Redvers Buller, was mobilised in Britain and despatched at once. Divisional commanders were Lord Methuen, Sir William Gatacre,and Sir Francis Clery. The opening engagement of the war took place on October 12th, when an armoured train, conveying cannon to Mafeking was attacked, and several men were captured. On November 1st, the Free State Boers, siding with their Transvaal brethren, invaded Cape Colony.
To relieve Kimberley, Ladysmith, and Mafeking, where the frontier garrisons were enclosed on all sides by the enemy, now became the objective of the campaign. Lord Methuen moved from the Orange River for the relief of Kimberley, and on November 23rd, with the Guards and the 9th Brigade, drove 2500 Boers out of their entrenched position at Belmont with the bayonet. Two days later, at Enslin, near Graspan, a memorable battle was fought against 3000 Boers, and the British, though successful, lost heavily—14 killed and 91 wounded out of a total force of 550 men. On November 28th the battle of Modder River, against 8000 Boers, was fought. Ten hours’ fighting under a burning sun resulted in the British holding their own, but with a loss of 4 officers and 71 men killed, and 19 officers and 375 men wounded. On the 11th December, Lord Methuen’s force fought a fierce engagement at Magersfontein, to the north of Modder River, where General Cronje had prepared a long series of concealed entrenchments. The British force numbered 11,000, the Boers 15,000, strongly entrenched. The Highland Brigade, marching in quarter column in the dusk of early morning found itself close to the barbed wire obstructions of the strongest entrenchments, and a tremendous rifle fire at close range greeted the hardy Scotsmen. Nothing could exceed their gallantry, but no troops could stand against that awful blast, and one man in every five of the 3000 led by General Wauchope was mown down. The gallant Wauchope himself fell, riddled by bullets, at the head of his men, a brave and well-beloved soldier. For the whole day the fight raged, but it was found impossible to dislodge the Boers, and a retreat to Modder River was inevitable. The British losses were more than 850 casualties—the killed alone totalled 152, and 130 men reported missing.
Meanwhile General Gatacre had begun operations in Cape Colony north of Queenstown. He occupied Bushmen’s Hock on November 27, while his main force was at Buller’s Kraal. On December 10th, the day before Magersfontein, he met with a sad reverse in making a night attack on Stormberg, when he was misled by guides and at daybreak was surprised by the enemy. Five hundred of his force were cut off and made prisoners. All attempts to reach Ladysmith had been fruitless.
General Symons, acting under Lieut.-General White at Ladysmith, occupied Dundee and Glencoe, and fought the first serious battle of the Natal campaign on October 20th, in an attack onLucas Myer’s army, 6000 strong, who held an advantageous position on Talana Hill. At the cost of his own life, General Symons accomplished a successful issue. The Boers were driven from their guns, and these were captured. The next day a fierce engagement was fought at Elandslaagte. General French’s cavalry and the Gordon Highlanders played conspicuous parts, and a heavy defeat to the enemy resulted. Four British officers and 37 men were killed; the wounded of all ranks totalled over 200. The Boer losses were put at 100 killed, 108 wounded, including General Kock, and nearly 200 prisoners. Generals White and Yule now joined forces in Ladysmith, which was at once invested by the enemy. Disaster now overtook the relieving force. At Nicholson’s Nek nearly 900 officers and men were taken prisoners. On December 15th General Buller fought a fierce battle with the enemy at Colenso, and lost eleven guns, having 1097 officers and men killed, wounded, and missing. Operations were now brought to a standstill.
Few will forget that dark December day when check after check to the British forces in South Africa announced the war was at a standstill, and little forward movement could be made until the hands of our commanders had been strengthened, and that, too, considerably. The disasters did much to bring out the national doggedness and determination. From every county and every colony, from remote Highland hamlets and from the teeming cities of the Empire the flower of Britain went forth to do battle for her honour in South Africa, and the Government, at length convinced of the arduous nature of the enterprise, lent an able assistance to the national will and determination.
On December 23rd, 1899, Field-Marshal Lord Roberts of Kandahar left London for Cape Town, to take supreme command of the British armies in South Africa, and he was joined at Gibraltar by his chief of staff, Lord Kitchener of Khartoum, who had travelled post haste from Egypt. A sigh of relief went up on every side when these two able and distinguished officers, backed by a vast and ever-increasing army, took up the reins of war in the disordered kingdoms.
Matters now began to mend slowly. A detachment of 120 colonial mounted infantry, on December 30th, under Captain Montmorency, were cut off near Dordrecht, and for a whole night held out gallantly against a force of 800 of the enemy. In the morning they were relieved by a party of the Cape Mounted Rifles. The next day General French conducted successful operations near Colesberg, and on the 1st of January he shelled their position, compelling them to fall back. The same day Colonel Pilcher defeated a commando at Sunnyside.
With such small successes the arrival of Lord Roberts was heralded, and every day reinforcements poured into South Africa. A desperate attempt was made on the 6th January to overwhelm Ladysmith, but after 17 hours’ fighting, the foe were driven back with heavy loss.
The turning point of the war, however, was reached when, on January 10th, 1900, Roberts took charge of hostilities, and began his famous march to Pretoria. A month after his arrival at Cape Town, Lord Roberts and his staff went north, his movements being shrouded in mystery. On the 9th February, 1900, he took over command at Modder River camp, and within three days his great movement was begun. The Highland Brigade, under the bravest of soldiers, Major-General Macdonald, were engaged with the enemy to the west of the railway, this being to attract the enemy’s attention from the preparation for a greater event. The intention was to make straight to relieve Kimberley. Suddenly the Free State (as it was then) was invaded at various points to the south of Modder River. General French, who had been withdrawn from Colesberg with his cavalry, dashed north, brushing aside or ignoring small parties of Boers, who sought to oppose him. The General then swept in a circle round the east of Magersfontein, and after a trying march, Kimberley was reached late in the afternoon of Wednesday, February 14th.
The Boer commandoes had timely warning of the advancing hosts, and, recognising that in the circumstances their position was untenable, the enemy took to flight. There was very little fighting. The Kimberley garrison moved out when it was apparent that the relief force was at hand, but the enemy did not wait for these. The garrison was too late to intercept the retreat, the Boers getting away in the darkness. The Boers’ loss in arms and ammunition was enormous. The first of the besieged towns had been relieved, but not at a cheap price. It was work which cost Britain, from Belmont onwards, 129 officers and 1818 men. The British infantry brigades followed in the wake of General French, and marching north-east, occupied Jacobsdal, the Boer base of supplies.
General Cronje, one of the most stubborn of the Boer generals, whose tactics were typical of his reputed border ancestry, saw that he ran a great risk of being surrounded in his trenches at Magersfontein. There was one loophole of escape—to the east between the rear of the British cavalry and the front of the infantry. Accordingly Cronje warily made towards Bloemfontein by this route. But he was not circumspect enough, and his retreat was soon discovered. British infantry and cavalry were despatched in hot pursuit, and he was brought to bay on the 10th at Paardeberg, in the valley of the Modder River.On that day an attempt to storm the Boer laager failed. The British circled round the doomed Cronje, and day by day the lines of investment were drawn closer. Shot and shell were poured into the camp of the Boers, who, like rabbits, buried themselves in holes in the river bank. Quite a number of Boer commandoes were defeated, but despite this, and the fact that his camp was in flames, and shot and shell were dropping into it like rain, the obstinate Cronje refused to yield. The statement that Cronje was a descendant of the old raiders of Galloway was certainly amply qualified by his tactics throughout. However, on the morning of Majuba Day—27th February—the Canadians, Gordons, and Shropshires dashed forward, and entrenched themselves in a position which commanded the Boer camp. After this, Cronje saw that further resistance was useless, and, with 4000 men, unconditionally surrendered.
It was a small force that was commanded by Cronje as compared with the army of besiegers, and he had held out magnificently. After the battle an examination of the enemy’s position showed this. The whole of the river on both sides was honeycombed with trenches, but such trenches as had never before been used in warfare; they were really underground dwellings, and perfectly secure unless a shell was dropped into the opening above. Straight projecting missiles were bound to fail to have an effect. The condition of the whole laager, and trenches, however, was a frightful one. Every three paces lay dead horses, mules and cattle, polluting the air, and it was no wonder Cronje was forced to surrender at last. The parting between several men and their wives at this stage was extremely heartrending, and both were crying bitterly. The completeness of the capture was the more singular in view of the determined character of the enemy, and it was thought, at the very least, the enemy would destroy their guns and ammunition before surrendering.
The pursuit and capture of the Boers cost Britain no fewer than 98 officers and 1436 men.
Pushing on from Paardeberg, Lord Roberts, on the 7th March, outflanked the Boers at Poplar Grove, compelling them to retreat, and three days later he defeated them at Driefontein. Ex-President Steyn fled from the capital, and on the 13th Lord Roberts took possession, as he himself put it, “by the help of God and the bravery of Her Majesty’s soldiers.” The total casualties, since the army left Modder River, were 2086 officers and men, killed, wounded and missing.
The occupation of Bloemfontein had a wonderful effect on the course of events. The Boers withdrew from northern Cape Colony, and the British forces crossed the Orange River on 15th March. There had been much desultory fightingin this district, and the British losses would amount to about 2000.
While the relief of Ladysmith by General Buller was taking place, Lord Roberts rested at Bloemfontein for six weeks for the purpose of reorganising his transport service, and generally strengthening his forces. This inactivity on the part of the British commander was fully taken advantage of by the Boers, who swept down to the east and south-east of the capital. It was then Lord Roberts decided to check the enemy’s progress, and the battle of Karree was fought, at which the enemy made their last stand between Bloemfontein and Brandfort. Their attitude had become unceasingly aggressive, and if the Free State burghers, who had surrendered to Britain, were to be assured of her ability to protect them, it was necessary to check the raids and incursions in the country immediately north of the capital. Lord Roberts deputed this task to the 7th Division, commanded by Lieutenant-General Tucker, the 1st and 3rd cavalry brigades under General French, and the brigade of mounted infantry under Colonel le Gallais.
At an early hour in the morning the whole force, preceded by a screen of mounted men, moved out of the advance camp in the direction of a ridge which commanded the line of railway north of Modder Bridge. It was known to be occupied and entrenched by an outpost of 1500 Boers. Moving forward over the plain, which the British cavalry had already reconnoitred, General Tucker was soon in front of the enemy’s position. After a stiff fight and attacks from various positions, the object of the advance was fully attained, and the troops bivouacked on the position they had carried. The Boers, however, succeeded in getting away over a flat country with all their guns and waggons.
This was followed by several rather unfortunate mishaps to the British forces at Sanna’s Post and Reddersburg, the latter being particularly noted for a gallant stand by the Royal Irish Rifles against great odds. Three companies of Royal Irish Rifles and two companies of the north regiment of mounted infantry which had been captured by the Boers, were falling back for a position when they were surrounded by over 3000 of the enemy, occupying a kopje. They defended the position for nearly 24 hours, notwithstanding that they were without food or water, and were exposed to the shells of the enemy’s guns. This fight was one of rifles on the Boer side and artillery on the other, and before darkness fell all the gallant British fellows were being led away. General Gatacre, who had been advised of the fighting, hurried to the scene, to arrive two hours late. At this time the whole country was reeking with active spies. As a result of Reddersburg about 600 men were captured.While at Sanna’s Post, another unfortunate mishap, 37 officers and over 500 men were made prisoners. After this came the stiff engagement at Wepener, which lasted several days. An attempt was made to encircle the enemy by the British general, and while the opposing forces received a check, both sides suffered heavy casualties. This attempt at encircling the enemy was not successful.
The end of April found Lord Roberts’ preparations finished, and the opening days of May witnessed the beginning of the triumphal march north. The British front extended across country for forty miles, and time and again overlapped the burgher flanks and threatened their lines of retreat. After several days’ hard marching, during which splendid progress was made, Kronstad was reached, and here great opposition was expected. Great preparations had been made by Lord Roberts to make his march a successful one, and before the rapid advance of the British forces the Boers fled in confusion from the position at Kronstad. No fewer than 10,000 of them passed through the town the night previous to the arrival of the British forces, quite a number of the residents following. The enemy had been reinforced by 3000 men from Natal, but the position they took up was quite untenable, and they beat a retreat.
Thus, no fewer than 128 miles had been covered by Lord Roberts’ forces in about twelve days’ time. For a week the forces rested at Kronstad, and getting ready for the march again, an advance was made towards the Transvaal. On the 23rd May the forces arrived at Rhenoster River, where again they were surprised in finding the enemy had gone, having fled during the night of our arrival. The enemy had occupied a strong position on the north bank of the river, which had been carefully entrenched, but they did not think it advisable to defend it when they heard that General Hamilton’s force was at Heilbron, and the cavalry, which crossed the Rhenoster, some miles lower down the stream, was threatening their right rear.
Right on from here the British march to the Vaal was made with great progress, and although the enemy threatened strong resistance on several occasions, they always retreated in front of the British forces, and evacuated their strongholds. On the Queen’s Birthday, 24th May, the British forces entered the Transvaal, and encamped on the north bank. The advance troops, who crossed first, were only just in time to save the coal mines on each side of the river from being destroyed. The river was crossed amid loud cheers by Compton’s Horse and the Dorset Company, who were fired at by several scouting parties of Boers. These were pursued, and had a very narrow escape from being captured. General Botha had consideredthe line of the Vaal indefensible, and the big guns were taken to Pretoria. After this it was becoming more and more evident that the Boer forces were shrinking at the thought of opposing such an army as General Roberts led, and on May 28th, when Klip River, which is 18 miles from Johannesburg, was reached, the enemy, who had prepared several positions, where they intended to set up opposition, again fled, or abandoned one after another of their vantage grounds. So hard were the enemy pressed on this occasion, that they had only time to get their guns into the train, and leave the station when some of the mounted infantry dashed into it
The complete success of Lord Roberts’ march seemed now only a matter of time, but there was falling off in the desire to press forward as quickly as possible the more so seeing the enemy were being hustled out of their various positions. On the Tuesday following their arrival at Klip River, the British forces arrived at a point about ten miles from Johannesburg, without any serious opposition. The enemy were completely taken aback, as they did not expect the arrival until next day, and had not even carried off all the rolling stock. On the Thursday Johannesburg was in the hands of the British.
Lord Roberts, on the Wednesday, had summoned the town to surrender within twenty-four hours. The Boer commandant considered this course inadvisable, as the town was full of burghers, but these difficulties were overcome, and the Field-Marshal entered and hoisted the British flag. The entry of Lord Roberts into Johannesburg has been described as a spectacle to be remembered by all who beheld it. After formally accepting the surrender of the town, Lord Roberts left the building, and, remounting his charger, proceeded to the next ceremony, which was the hauling down of the Transvaal flag. Numbers of the rugged burghers who were witnesses to this action appeared touched to the heart. When the flag was lowered tears were seen streaming down the faces of several men as they looked at the loss of all they had been fighting for during many weary months. While the National Anthem was being sung, a tall Free Stater, an artillerist, refused to remove his hat, and a fellow-spectator, a small man, attempted to pull it off, whereupon a British soldier standing near pushed the aggressor away, saying,
“Leave him alone. He fought for his flag; you fight for none.”
Lord Roberts took up his quarters at a small inn with the sign “Orange Grove,” and here a rather interesting anecdote is recorded, the truth of which has, however, been denied by the principal actor.
Early in the evening, soon after the Field-Marshal reachedhis quarters, one of the officers of the staff approached him in order to discuss a matter of importance. He found the Field-Marshal with one of the innkeeper’s little children on his knee, trying to teach the mite to trace the letters of the alphabet. When the officer entered, Lord Roberts looked up with a smile and said, “Don’t come now; can’t you see I’m busy!”
Only 30 miles now separated the British forces from Pretoria. After the taking of Johannesburg, the people began to lose all confidence in their leaders, and during the short period that the troops stayed in the town, large numbers of the Boers came forward and surrendered. After hearing that Lord Roberts had reached Johannesburg, Kruger joined the retreat. Gathering up his goods and chattels, the ex-President, leaving his ignorant and deluded burghers to their fate, scuttled ignominiously out of the country.
Continuing his march forward, General Roberts made straight for Pretoria for his crowning effort. On the way a number of lingering parties of Boers were met, and these were driven off to surrounding hills. On Monday, the 4th June, the troops started on what was supposed to be their final march. After going about ten miles, however, the district of Six Mules Spruit was found to be occupied by the enemy. Two companies of the mounted infantry, along with four companies of the Yeomanry, were despatched to the scene, and quickly dislodged the enemy from the south bank. After pursuing them for nearly a mile, the companies found themselves under a heavy fire from guns, which the Boers had placed on a well-concealed and commanding position. The British heavy guns, naval and Royal Artillery, which had been purposely placed in the front part of the column, were hurried on to the assistance of the mounted infantry as fast as oxen and mules could travel over the great rolling hills by which Pretoria is surrounded. The guns were supported by Stephenson’s Brigade, and after firing a few rounds they drove the enemy out of their positions
The Boers then attempted to turn the British left flank. In this they were again foiled by the mounted infantry, and Yeomanry, supported by Maxwell’s Brigade and Tucker’s Division. As they still kept pressing on the left rear, General Roberts sent word for Ian Hamilton, who was advancing three miles to the left, to incline his forces and fill up the gap between the two columns. This finally checked the enemy, who were driven back towards Pretoria. General Roberts was expecting that he might have been able to follow them, and as the days were then very short in that part, and after nearly twelve hours’ marching and fighting, the troops had to bivouac on the ground fought-over during the day. Just before dark the enemy were beaten back from nearly all the positions they hadbeen holding, and Ian Hamilton’s mounted infantry followed them up within 2000 yards of Pretoria, through which they retreated hastily. Colonel de Lisle then sent an officer with a flag of truce into the town, demanding its surrender.
Shortly before midnight Lord Roberts was awakened by two officials of the South African Republic—Sandburg, military secretary to General Botha, and a general officer of the Boer army—who brought him a letter from Commandant Botha, proposing an armistice for the purpose of settling terms of surrender. Lord Roberts replied that he would gladly meet the Commander-General the next morning, but that he was not prepared to discuss any terms, as the surrender of the town must be unconditional. At the same time his lordship asked for a reply by daybreak, as he had ordered the troops to march on the town as soon as it was light. In his reply, Botha stated that he had decided not to defend Pretoria, and that he trusted the women, children and property would be protected. About one o’clock in the morning Lord Roberts was met by three principal civil officials with a flag of truce, stating their wish to surrender the town. At two o’clock in the afternoon of the 5th June, 1900, Pretoria was occupied by Her Majesty’s troops, and nearly 4000 British prisoners of war were released.
But the occupation of Pretoria was not to see the termination of the war. May 17th had seen Mafeking relieved by Colonels Mahon and Plumer, and cordial was the welcome extended to these officers by its harassed garrison and by its brave defender Colonel Baden-Powell. For six months and six days the gallant defenders had held out. On February 26th Ladysmith had been relieved, after a siege of nearly four months, General Buller making a formal entry on the 2nd March; but much yet remained to be done elsewhere, and a species of guerilla warfare ensued.
On July 31st, Generals Hunter and Rundle captured the Boer leader Prinsloo with 4000 of his men, but De Wet, the wily and mobile head of the Boer cavalry forces, still remained at large, and for nearly 18 months the war dragged on its weary course, the blockhouse system of Lord Kitchener, now in supreme command, gradually reducing the number of the foe in the field.
Peace was finally signed at Pretoria on May 31st, 1902, both the Transvaal and Orange Free State having been formally annexed by the British Empire.
No less than 1072 officers and 20,870 non-commissioned officers and men had died in the field, either from wounds or disease, whilst the total Boer losses will probably never be known.