Yet French's column was the pivot on which the whole British plan turned. This campaign in miniature gave French his chance finally to disprove the fallacies of the critics at home. Before his appointment in October, he had actually been described by some of his opponents as "inefficient to command in the field." This is the tragedy of many a brilliant cavalry leader—it is impossible for him to demonstrate his ability save in actual warfare.
When French went down to Cape Town to consult with General Buller, he found his Chief oppressed by serious misgivings. Sir George White and his force were surrounded in Ladysmith; Mafeking and Kimberley were both invested by the enemy; and a great invasion was threatened along the whole northern boundary of Cape Colony. To deal with all these difficulties Buller had only one army corps. One column, under Lord Methuen, was advancing to the relief of Kimberley; another, under General Gatacre, was attempting to stem the Boer invasion of Cape Colony; while a third, to be led by Buller himself, was massing at Chieveley, prior to advancing to the relief of Ladysmith. French was given command of a fourth column with which he was to harass the Boers around Colesberg. A Boer commando under Schoeman had seized a passage on the Orange River at Norval's Pont on November 1. On the 14th the Boers entered Colesberg; and a proclamation was issued declaring the district to be a Free State territory.
From the first no striking victories were anticipated for French's little force. It was to act as a dam, rather than as a weapon of destruction. It was a rather flimsy dam at that. Buller's instructions, which at first spoke of a "flying column," soon declined to suggestions of "a policy of worry without risking men." In particular it was to stop raids on the railway line which might impede Methuen's advance on Kimberley.
Collecting a part of his force at Cape Town, French left on November 18. On the following night he reached De Aar, where Major-General Wauchope gave him another couple of companies of Mounted Infantry. Acting on Wauchope's advice, he determined to make Naauwpoort his base. Buller had suggested Hanover Road. But French on arrival found that Wauchope was right. The country round Naauwpoort proved to be much more level, was less closely laced with wire fences, and afforded better means of communication both by road and rail.
No sooner had he arrived (on November 21) than he ordered a reconnaissance to be made on the following morning. His cavalry came within eight miles of Colesberg, without seeing the enemy. Accordingly French determined to attack the town, and asked for reinforcements of cavalry for that purpose. On November 23, however, further reconnaissance supported by a trainload of infantry showed that the situation had developed. It was found impossible to approach Arundel, as the kopjes north of Arundel station were occupied by the Boers.
Reporting the state of affairs to headquarters, French said that, in his opinion, the Boers should be pushed out of Colesberg immediately, as they were being reinforced daily, and were spreading disaffection throughout the Colony. But he was not in a position to do more than worry the enemy for several days. However, his persistent night-and-day fretting of Schoeman's forces achieved the desired result. His ubiquitous patrols seriously alarmed the Boer general as to the safety of his outposts at Arundel. A squadron of Lancers discovered one day that the kopjes round Arundel had been evacuated.
After that a dash on the town followed. Here again the policy of nag and bluster had frightened the Boers out of their position. There were only a hundred men in it when the British force arrived; and they fled precipitately at the mere sight of it. Next day, Colonel Porter struck even farther north with his cavalry and mounted infantry, occupying a kopje three miles north of the town.
There followed a brief lapse in active hostilities. The Boers heavily entrenched themselves on the neighbouring hills; and a prisoner taken by our men said that Schoeman had at least 3,000 men, with some useful guns, and was waiting for further reinforcements.
French's position now became critical in more than one sense of the word. For in mid-December news of the triple British disaster came through to hearten Schoeman and his men. Cronje had inflicted a crushing defeat on Methuen at Magersfontein; Botha had crippled Buller at Colenso; and Gatacre's force had met with a reverse at Stormberg. Elated by his colleagues' successes, Schoeman was spoiling for the fray. Could he once gain a victory over French, the whole of Cape Colony would probably join the rebellion. Both east and west the Dutch population were simply waiting a sign to rise.
With the whole of South Africa in revolt, our position of "splendid isolation" in Europe might well have induced Continental complications. The foreign Press, indeed, was almost unanimous in its jubilations over this series of disasters. The German papers in particular, filled their pages with the most atrocious insults and jibes. Such was the situation in "Black Week." There was much ominous talk on the Continent about "the flowing tide." Only one obstacle prevented these dire prophecies from coming true. French and his little force possibly stayed the tide of a world conflict, through checking the rebel torrent between Naauwpoort and Colesberg.
It is typical of his perfect sang froid, that in this excessively tight corner, French found time to send a cheering Christmas greeting to friends at home. "We shall drink your health on Christmas Day," he wired on behalf of himself and his staff, "and we hope you are well, and having as good a time as we are."
French's use of Arundel was masterly. For him to attack was impossible; about this time he was outnumbered by something like five to one. His one aim, therefore, was to keep the Boers from the railway line. The moment that his scouts discovered the Boers throwing out detachments to defend a kopje, French would have an elaborate attack, or a reconnaissance in force to drive the enemy in. At this time scarcely a day passed without its "affair" of one sort or another. If it was not a night attack, then it was a miniature siege, or a flanking movement—or a piece of bluff! His men were in the saddle night and day. One of those present has related how he practically lived on his horse for two months.
Did Schoeman attempt to force a pitched battle, then French, by a series of simultaneous flank and rear movements, would harass him out of the possibility of a general action. It is doubtful, indeed, whether during this lively period of his life the Boer commander ever really had time to meet either his fellow commanders or his lieutenants and discuss a concerted plan of action. No sooner was a general movement visible in the Boer camps, than French and his men swept out, or threatened to sweep out, on some dangerous design. Every morning the General himself made a personal reconnaissance in the neighbourhood.
During his reconnaissance on December 31, French came to the conclusion that an offensive movement was at last possible. Colesberg lies in a little plateau, ringed round by a quadrangle of kopjes, all of which were strongly held by the enemy. Just beyond this quadrangle, however, one or two kopjes projected from its western face. French determined to seize one of these, from which he could push forward along the enemy's flank, jeopardising his line of retreat.
As usual, the venture was brilliantly conceived and ably carried out. During the day a squadron of Hussars was sent forward to Maeder's Farm, some five miles on the line of march. There the men bivouacked under arms, and at midnight set out on a silent march to the west. Under the screen of darkness and perfect silence the advance was speedy. Even the regimental carts were dispensed with, lest the creaking of their wheels might betray the advance. Not until the column was near its objective, McCracken's Hill, did the Boers suspect its approach. An amazed shouting and some wild rifle-fire from the outposts—and McCracken's Hill was in French's hands.
The cavalry now wound round the hill towards the road. But their commander, Colonel Fisher, found it impossible to take the hills commanding the road. As generally happened, a complicated engagement ensued. The Boers attempted to retake McCracken's Hill next morning, adding a counter-attack to the north-east and an enveloping movement on the right to the already complex situation. But French checkmated every move, although he finally thought it wise that Colonel Fisher should evacuate the hill he had so cleverly won. That night both French and Schoeman were wiring for reinforcements in the hope of clearing up the situation.
Some days afterwards came the only reverse which French ever received at the hands of the Boers. There has been endless argument as to who was directly responsible for the disaster to the Suffolks. It seems best simply to record the fact that the order was given by French as the result of pressure brought to bear on him by the enthusiastic colonel of the Suffolks. The key to the Boer stronghold lay in the kopje of Grassy Hill. Lieutenant-Colonel A.J. Watson had frequently reconnoitred the Boer position in company with General French. As a result, he was confident that his battalion could rush the position. On January 5 he begged for permission to attempt the feat. On the following day French authorised him to make the attack should he see a favourable opportunity, on condition that he first informed the General of his plans and probable time of attack. This he failed to do, and that night, without further warning, Watson and his men crept noiselessly out of camp, walking either in canvas shoes or in stocking-soles in order to deaden the noise of their footsteps.
The foremost ranks were scrambling breathlessly towards the summit, when a withering Boer fire fell upon their panting lines. It was clear that they were not only discovered but expected. Watson ordered a withdrawal. But withdrawal from that stark boulder-strewn hill-side was almost an impossibility. The column fell into disorder, some advancing and some retreating, under a fierce fire from the enemy. Watson himself gathered together the rear company and attempted, with reckless gallantry, to lead it to the summit. He was among the first to fall, riddled with bullets, and although his officers perished with him almost to a man, the men beat a hasty retreat, in face of the enemy's destructive fire. The affair accounted in all for eleven officers and 150 men. No doubt the gallant Watson was largely to blame. But the facts seemed to show that the enemy were in some way apprised of his intentions. Against such a chance as this, strategy and generalship are helpless. Certainly French would be the last man in the world to deny any responsibility, had he been to blame for that one mishap in a memorable campaign.
One fact was now clear beyond dispute. The enemy's right had been strongly reinforced and was too alert to allow of much hope of successful action against it. Nothing daunted, French therefore directed his energies to the left. A few days later (January 11) he accomplished the tour de force of the campaign. In the plain to the west of Colesberg there arose an isolated kopje, some six hundred feet in height, called Coles Kop. This hill, which rises almost sheer from the plain, taxes the wind of the unencumbered climber to the utmost. Being higher than the surrounding kopjes, it commands both Colesberg and the enemy's laager. The Boers had left it ungarrisoned, thinking it useless either to themselves or to the enemy. They made a very great mistake. For the mere hint that a thing is impossible fires French to attempt it.
One day Schoeman woke up to find shrapnel assailing him apparently from nowhere. It was coming from a 15-pounder which Major E.E.A. Butcher, R.F.A., had coaxed up to the top of Coles Kop in three and a half hours by dint of much scientific haulage and more sinew. The Boers themselves never equalled this extraordinary feat.
To hoist the guns on to the hilltop was the least part of the undertaking. Guns without ammunition are useless. To get shells on to the kopje without disaster was an infinitely more difficult undertaking. He solved it by installing a hill lift. The veldt is not a very promising engineering shop; but Butcher was not easily beaten. Using steel rails for standards and anything worthy the name for cable, he soon had the framework erected. To the uprights were fixed snatchblocks over which he passed his carrying wires. On this mountain lift he was able to send weights up to 30 lbs., thanks to an ingenious system of pulleys. Nor was the lift altogether rustic, for a drum and ratchet made it double-acting, so that as one load went up another was automatically let down. It is only fair to say that the Boers themselves were masters of the art of haulage. How they managed to get their guns to the top of kopjes remained for long a mystery to our men. Butcher, however, quickly taught his men to beat the enemy at their own game, although nothing else quite so dramatic as the Coles Kop incident is on record.
During this proceeding French had been distracting the enemy by a demonstration to the south-east of Colesburg. Consequently the shells from nowhere began to pour into their laager during breakfast (January 12) with devastating results. The laager was instantly abandoned, and a second, two thousand yards farther off, suffered the same fate. When Butcher had finally been able to get a second 15-pounder up the hill, the Boers were compelled to shift every camp they possessed into sheltered positions.
Most of these exploits show the resource and the daring which mark French's tactics. But his caution is no less remarkable. One instance of it will suffice. Shortly after the Coles Kop incident, it was discovered that the Boers had left open a portion of the road from Colesberg, where it goes through a narrow pass known as Plessis Poort. Immediately French planned its capture. One detachment was sent to occupy Bastard's Nek, another defile to the west of Plessis Poort. Covered by a cross-fire from the artillery, the infantry were to move forward and seize the road. In order to divert the Boers' attention from these matters, a demonstration was ordered along the whole British line. Advancing carefully the infantry met with little opposition, a fact which made French suspicious. As the silence continued he abruptly ordered the "Retire." The moment that his men obeyed, a fierce fire broke out from the enemy, who were present in force. French's caution was justified.
During all this time the rival fronts had been gradually stretching out, in the constant effort to parry outflanking movements, until they reached the extraordinary length of fifty miles. Yet at the utmost neither general could throw more than ten thousand men into the field! During the last days of French's command, the fighting had become more a matter of outpost skirmishes than anything else. The Boer generals, who now included De Wet and Delarey, were entirely taken up with the effort to out-manœuvre the irrepressible French.
It was here that French first mastered the new problem of modern warfare—the extended front. The ability of the rival generals gradually gave the campaign the resemblance of a Mukden or a Mons in miniature. That the British force was not entirely out-manœuvred by such masters of tactics as Delarey and De Wet says something for French's extraordinary mastery of a new method of warfare in something like six weeks' time.
Herein lies French's peculiar genius. Although he knows all the methods of all the schoolmen, he is capable as one soldier expressed it, "of making his own tactics brand new on the spot." To that fact one may attribute his consistent superiority to the Boer. Where even Kitchener and Roberts doubted, French invariably did the right thing. During the following fortnight he had more brilliant opportunities of demonstrating his unique abilities.
FOOTNOTES:
[11] To those interested enough to pursue the subject further, I commend With French and his Cavalry in South Africa, by C.S. Goldman. (Macmillan & Co.)
CHAPTER VIIToC
The Dash to Kimberley
French's Pledge—The Task—The First Shell—"Hemmed in"—"We must break through"—The Lancers' Charge—In and Out of Kimberley—The Surrender of Cronje.
By the end of the year French had saved the situation in Cape Colony. Realizing this, Roberts summoned him to Cape Town on more important business. Into French's hands he placed the task which Methuen had failed to accomplish through adverse circumstances—the Relief of Kimberley. When Lord Roberts, with customary precision, had stated exactly what he wanted, he was surprised to receive a dramatic pledge from his General. "I promise faithfully," said French, "to relieve Kimberley at 6 o'clock on the evening of the 15th, if I am alive."
It may be asked why the case of Kimberley was considered so urgent by Lord Roberts. There are those who have suggested that the presence of the millionaire, Cecil Rhodes, in the beleaguered city was responsible for the authorities' energy in the matter. The mere suggestion, however, refutes itself. For Rhodes was the one man who did more than any other to have the defences of the city brought into a state of some sort of efficiency. The fact is that there was discontent among the civil population and a constant peril of surrender. For this the great hundred pound shells which hurtled destruction across the town's streets from the neighbouring heights were chiefly responsible.
On the face of it, French's promise might then have been taken for a piece of reckless bravado. The camp on the Modder River in which he gathered his forces together was over a hundred miles from Kimberley. The commander-in-chief had promised him a full cavalry division of eight thousand five hundred men. But on February 11, French had barely four thousand eight hundred men, with seven batteries of Horse Artillery at his disposal. Between his camp and the mining city lay Cronje with a mobile force as large as French's own. Add to this that the ground to be covered consisted largely of arid and well-less veldt, affording neither food nor drink for man or beast. The time too was the African summer, with all the difficulties of handling partly raw English troops to be faced. The task before French and his men was certainly such as might have appalled a less courageous leader.
Guile as well as daring had much to do with the success of the enterprise. The vast concentration camp, with its flapping seas of canvas, was in itself a huge blind. Through its bustle and publicity French meant Cronje to conclude that he was about to force the Pass of Magersfontein, and thence to relieve Ladysmith. For this Cronje prepared himself with customary care. Meantime, French proceeded, as ever, to belie the very justifiable expectations he had aroused.
The most obvious route for French would be over Koodoesberg's Drift towards the west. Accordingly Macdonald's Highland Brigade spent a strenuous day in threatening the Drift and returned to camp.
After a day's rest Macdonald's horses were again ready for the field. On Sunday morning therefore, February 11, the long column filed silently out of camp. At 10 o'clock the main body had covered 22 miles, reaching the farmhouse of Ramdam. By that time Cronje's outposts had probably realised that the camp which French had carefully left standing at the Modder River was simply a city of canvas from which the inhabitants had departed.
Next day the force was again on the march at 3.0 a.m. It now took an easterly course in order to force a crossing on the Riet River. Its goal was Waterval Drift. But so intense was the darkness that after an hour of difficult movement the General ordered a halt, until dawn, when he ordered the division to make the feint on Waterval. He was not certain whether the Drift was held in force by the enemy or not. But very soon conviction came in a shell nicely aimed at the General in person. It burst between French and his staff. "There are too many of us riding together," was his only comment, as he moved forward to reconnoitre the ground from the top of the nearest kopje.
Very soon the Horse Artillery had the gun silenced, and the whole division swerved to the right just as the Boers drew off down stream to wait for the English crossing. Immediately the whole division was making for De Kiel's Drift further up stream. The banks proved to be steep and difficult, but a ford was discovered. As the cavalry neared the bank a party of Boers saw the ruse, and a neck-to-neck race for the Drift began. By a piece of daring horsemanship our cavalry got home first, and the Boers arrived too late to dispute their passage. By mid-day the division was able to cross and bivouac on the right bank, pending the arrival of the baggage train, left far behind.
The Riet River is by no means a refreshing torrent; it winds its slow way in muddy melancholy to the cleanly water of the Vaal. But at least it contained water in which both men and horses could forget the heat of the veldt. All day the weary cavalrymen waited for the supplies, which did not come until they were attempting to snatch a few hours of sleep. The transport horses stumbled and strained their way up the banks in the early hours of the morning.
There was pleasant excitement in camp, however, when both Roberts and Kitchener rode over to congratulate French on his progress, and wished him "good luck" for the rest of the journey. But the delay in transport was annoying to French. Neither the men nor their horses received any supplies until the morning was well advanced. And the sun was already scorching the veldt before the division was ready to advance. That delay was to be paid for in sweat and suffering. On that day alone over one hundred horses died or fell out from exhaustion. Their tired riders were forced to trudge across the veldt at what pace they could, or to find ignominious relief in the ammunition carts. Shortly after mid-day, however, a welcome well of water was reached. Here, thought the parched and foot-sore men, was relief at last. But once again they were doomed to disappointment. It is one of French's characteristics that he practises an exquisitely perfect loyalty both to the army and to his superiors. That well of sparkling water was destined for the infantry tramping on behind. Reluctantly the troopers turned aside on their tedious way. Not a drop of the water was touched.
By this time the men's sufferings from thirst and dust were intense. At two o'clock they neared Klip Drift, where they were fiercely attacked by a large body of Boers. The guns of the first brigade, however, quickly put the enemy to flight, but the General thought it well to make certain alterations in the order of his advance. These changes were only accomplished with the greatest difficulty. So tired were the horses that even the General's gallopers, who were continually traversing the column's half-mile front, were often unable to spur their horses to anything better than a walk. Very quickly the enemy returned to the attack, pestering French on the right. Realising his peril, he changed his course suddenly and headed away from the Klip Kraal Drift. Naturally, the enemy rushed off to block his way. For an hour and a half the Drift appeared to be the division's urgent objective. Then, without warning, he as suddenly turned about and swung back to Klip Drift.
These manœuvres had reduced the horses almost to the last stage of exhaustion. Many of them fell dead by the way. But at last the river was reached. Still the actual crossing was not yet. Once again French showed his extraordinary mastery of finesse. He ordered preparation to be made for the actual crossing at Klip Drift and Rondeval Drift. Having thrown Gordon to the left to effect one crossing and Broadwood to the right to effect another, French advanced so rapidly that Cronje was utterly nonplussed. Gordon opened a heavy shell fire which completely disconcerted him, although only a very few of the guns could come into action. Soon afterwards Gordon was crossing the river in pursuit. The Boers fled, in spite of the natural strength of their positions and the utterly exhausted state of our men. But neither Gordon on the left, nor Broadwood on the right, was satisfied with merely effecting a crossing. Both went in pursuit of the enemy towards Kimberley. The result was a complete rout. The Boers' camp, their ammunition, their wagons, fell entirely into our hands.
The rout was not without spasmodic touches of humour, even for these jaded men. "One of the Staff plunged into the river and caught some geese, but someone else ate them; a pig ran the gauntlet through the camp—amidst roars of laughter, even from the serious General—of lances, bayonets, knives, sticks, boots, water-bottles, anything to hand, and at length was caught by a lucky trooper, who shared his feast that night with his friends. A wagon of fresh fruit was taken, sufficient to make thirsty men's mouths water, but some thought the grapes were sour."[12]
The next day was perforce spent in camp, resting the tired troops and awaiting the arrival of supplies. The baggage was not on the scene until late in the afternoon, much to the discomfort of French's men. It was midnight before Lord Kitchener and his Staff were near the camp. One of French's aides-de-camp, Captain J. Laycock, rode out in solitary peril, and although continually sniped at by the Boers, was able to lead Lord Kitchener and his Staff safely into camp. All day the Boers had been making the men's lives a burden through unexpected sniping and feints. French is said to have admitted that had any of their attacks been driven home, his plans might have been seriously disconcerted. "Could the Boers learn to attack they would be a most formidable foe," was his verdict on the situation.
At 9.30 on February 15 the column set out on the last stage of their journey. French, with the idea of putting the enemy off the track, led his men towards Bloemfontein. His idea was eventually to dash straight for Kimberley with his whole division, hemming the enemy's rear and flank in at Magersfontein, where Methuen's force could hold him in front. Scarcely had the advance begun, however, when a murderous fire broke out from the river on the south-west, followed almost instantaneously by a cross fire from a line of kopjes on the north-west. The road to Bloemfontein was blocked; and the road to Kimberley was exposed to a cross fire from the enemy's two positions. This was checkmate with a vengeance. It was thought that some two thousand Boers held the kopjes ahead of French. At once he ordered the guns into position and boldly replied to the enemy's fire. The column was now nearing a plain several miles in width, guarded on one side by a ridge running from north to south, and on the other by a hill. The Boers held both hill and ridge in force. So that whatever the guns might do, the position was difficult—if not impossible. By all military rules French was "hemmed in." To a lesser man retreat would have seemed inevitable, though disastrous. Once again it was French v. The Impossible. A member of his staff relates how, sweeping the horizon with his glass, while riderless horses from the guns galloped past, he muttered, squaring the pugnacious jaw, "They are over here to stop us from Bloemfontein and they are there to stop us from Kimberley—we have got to break through." In an instant his decision was taken. He would attempt the impossible—a direct cavalry charge in the teeth of the enemy's fire.
He immediately ordered Gordon to charge the right front. The members of his Staff expected that the General would now take up a position of security in the rear of the column, before the grim work began. But he kept his place in the van with his Staff. His officers were practically certain that not only the first, but several of the leading squadrons would be utterly wiped out. There appeared to be nothing in heaven or earth which could prevent huge losses. Gordon led his men—the Ninth and Sixteenth Lancers—in superb style. Despite the pitiable condition of the horses, it was a charge worthy of the British Army. A strong fire poured in from the Boer trenches and from the kopjes above. But as the huge masses of armed men gained the inevitable momentum and pounded down upon the enemy in a cloud of sword-lit dust, the Boers fled before these clattering hoofs. Throwing up their guns they begged for mercy. But nothing could stop the terrific impetus of the charge. Nearly one hundred and fifty Boers fell as the Lancers ploughed through their trenches. Behind the Lancers the whole division now swept on in perfect order, led by the Greys. "So the whole division swung up the plain at the gallop. It was a thrilling time never to be forgotten," wrote Boyle. So wild was the Boer fire that our casualties only amounted to four men wounded and two horses wounded.
The plain once cleared, a halt was made for the guns to come up, to hold the enemy on the left. When the Artillery had joined the main force, the advance was again begun. The plain once crossed, the smoke stacks of Kimberley came into view. At sight of these dingy symbols of the commerce they had risked all to save, the men raised a tired cheer. Kimberley was relieved—although the nervous operators to whom French attempted to heliograph the fact, persisted in pessimistically believing that he was the enemy.
By far the worst of the work was now over. Before French reached Kimberley, however, the Boers made a last effort to stay his victorious advance. But they were driven back with heavy loss. Only the frightful condition of his horses prevented French from turning rout into annihilation. But his worn-out animals were quite beyond pursuing even a beaten enemy.
At length, Kimberley, seeing the huge sand cloud on the horizon, came to the conclusion that it enveloped the horsemen, not of Cronje but of French. About six o'clock in the evening an officer rode out of the besieged city to meet the soldier who had saved it. At 7—just one hour after the moment of French's historic promise, the General entered Kimberley with his Staff. He dined that night at De Beer's Sanatorium.
But there was no rest for the conquerors. At 3.30 on the following morning the cavalry was harrying the Boers to the north-east. At 5 o'clock they came upon a body of Boers on a well-fortified ridge, who were covering the army's retreat. Unable to operate vigorously against them owing to the condition of his forces, French forced them to draw in their outposts. But it was impossible to do more. His horses were half dead. And in the terrific heat "the tongues of men and horses become black from thirst." Realising the hopelessness of the situation, French returned to the town.
Rest was not yet, however. Scarcely had he retired than news came that Cronje had decided to evacuate Magersfontein. No confirmation followed, however. The General, therefore, advised his Staff that at last a night's rest was possible. A couple of hours later a telegram arrived from Lord Kitchener, announcing that Cronje, with ten thousand men, was in full retreat from Magersfontein, with "all his wagons and equipment and four guns, along the north bank of the Modder River towards Bloemfontein, that he had already fought a rearguard action with him, and if French with all available horses and guns could head him and prevent his crossing the river, the infantry from Klip Drift would press on and annihilate or take the whole force prisoners."
General French responded magnificently to the call of this opportunity. Another man might have pleaded that his troops and horses were utterly unfit for work, but with French the greater the obstacles, the stronger is his determination to win through! Of all his five thousand men, only two thousand could be found whose horses were fit to carry them in that wild dash to head off the Boer Commando.
At 3 a.m. on February 17, French left Kimberley, and by a marvellous piece of far-sighted calculation made straight for Koodoos Rand Drift, the very crossing which Cronje himself had chosen. His horses died on the way, but French reached the river first and seized the Drift, almost under the enemy's eyes.
Cronje was completely surprised. The previous evening, French had been in pursuit of the Boers north of Kimberley; now he had suddenly appeared 35 miles to the south, and was facing the enemy, determined to cut off his retreat. Swiftly Cronje moved down the river and took possession of a long stretch between Gaardeberg Drift and Wolveskraal Drift.
It must have been an anxious night for General French, for had Cronje realised how small was the force that thus held him at bay, and made a desperate effort to break through, there would have been little chance of thwarting him. But Cronje lay still in the river bed, while the British forces closed swiftly in and the net was drawn closer round him.
For ten long days the Boer General held out, while the British artillery poured shells into his laager. Meanwhile the Boers flocked in from every side to endeavour to rescue Cronje from his hopeless position. French undertook to check them and hold them back, leaving the main army to deal with the surrounded enemy.
General French and his men were in continual action for the next few days. But the soldiers gloried in their work, for they were cheered by the message from Queen Victoria in appreciation of their excellent work, particularly in the relief of Kimberley, which had earned for them "the gratitude of the whole nation."
At length, on February 27, Cronje surrendered, and four thousand men laid down their arms. Thus closed the most brilliant exploit of the British Arms in South Africa—an exploit whose success can be largely traced to the extraordinary mixture of dauntless courage, practical acumen and remorseless persistence which mark the genius of Sir John French.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] The Cavalry Rush to Kimberley. By Captain Cecil Boyle, Nineteenth Century, June, 1900.
CHAPTER VIIIToC
Rounding up the Boers
French in the Modder—At Bloemfontein—French and the Artist—An Ambush—Doing the Impossible Again—Short Shrift with Barberton Snipers—Some French Stories.
To have relieved Kimberley and partially effected the capture of the redoubtable Cronje in the course of a fortnight, was no mean accomplishment. The average commander would have been content to rest his forces after such exertions. But French is never tired. The very day that Cronje surrendered news came through that a rescue party was coming to Cronje's assistance, and already held a hill on the south-east of the Modder. Although the river was in flood, as the result of torrential rains, French forthwith led out two brigades with their batteries to make a reconnaissance. In forcing the stream both French and his A.A.G. very nearly lost their lives. Losing its foothold the General's horse took fright and fell, flinging him into the raging torrent. As the animal strove to recover, it upset Colonel (now Sir Douglas) Haig, who was coming to the rescue, dashing rider and horse into an over-hanging willow tree. Both French and Haig luckily managed to get themselves free from their plunging animals and struck out for the shore. Dripping but determined, they jumped on to fresh mounts, and advanced in two steamy haloes across the dusty veldt. Of course, not a solitary Boer was in sight for ten miles at least!
It very quickly transpired, however, that the Boers were strongly entrenched at Poplar Grove. At their head were French's most redoubtable opponents in the Colesberg campaign—De Wet and Delarey. For once his old antagonists were able to get back at least a little of their own. Their position extended across the river and was protected by a chain of hills, with kopjes between, not to mention the wired fences, ditches and other wiles in which they excelled.
Lord Roberts determined that an attack must be delivered before the enemy had time to recover from the shock of Cronje's surrender. French was, therefore, ordered to circle round the Boer left flank, thus cutting off his retreat, while the infantry delivered a frontal attack.
The result was a compliment to the terrible French and his cavalry. No sooner did the Boers realise that the horsemen were upon them, than they beat a hasty retreat. Before the cavalry were in position, the Boers and their wagons could be seen scurrying off for the river. Arm-chair critics at home have strongly criticised French for what followed. They claim that what should have been a rout, ended in an orderly escape. But they forget several factors in the situation.
While French's men were urging their spent horses forward to overtake the enemy, it became obvious that De Wet had very cleverly covered his retreat. First from a farmhouse in the rear, and, when it was taken, from a low kopje, a small body of men poured forth a hail of bullets. In manœuvring to take the kopje, the tired cavalry allowed the astute De Wet and Delarey to escape with their guns intact. Kruger and Steyn also, who had come up to hearten their followers, got away.
Maddening as it was to French to see his old enemy escape through his fingers like this, the condition of his men and of his horses had to be taken into account; they were dead beat. For once the manœuvring of De Wet proved as successful as when it was practised by French at Colesberg. Finally the event of the day is attributable to two of French's best qualities—his caution and his extreme parsimony in the matter of human life. A more ruthless leader might possibly have captured the Boer guns. But it is extremely doubtful whether he would have taken De Wet, Delarey or any other of the well-mounted Boer leaders.
From Poplar Grove the enemy fell back on Driefontein. On March 10, French again drove them, although not without real difficulty, from their stronghold. This accomplished, the army pushed on towards Bloemfontein, which surrendered on March 13. For six weeks the main body halted there to rest, but chiefly to obtain remounts for the cavalry. During that time, however, French's men were not idle. They continually patrolled the surrounding country, keeping in constant touch with the enemy and driving him back for many miles from the town.
One unhappy afternoon the General spent in sitting for a painter in Bloemfontein. It was probably the severest ordeal of the campaign for that retiring soldier. "General French," wrote the painter's youngest daughter, "is quite the shyest man in the British army, and looks less like a cavalry officer than you could possibly imagine. He is a heavy man, always looks half-asleep—although who is there more wide awake?—has a very red complexion, grey moustache, thick-set figure, and the last personality in the world to help an artist as a sitter. He promised to sit for the painter, although most characteristically he could not for the life of him think what he had done to be of sufficient interest for anyone to want to sketch him. At last, after a great deal of trouble, the painter got him to sit one morning just outside the club at Bloemfontein. That sitting was the shortest and most disjointed the painter has ever had. The General sat bolt upright in a chair, reading his paper upside down through sheer nervousness, and, if he left that chair once, on one excuse or another, he left it a hundred times, coming back looking more thoroughly upset and nervous each time, until at last he never came back at all. And the painter's only chance of sketching him was at the club during dinner!"[13]
At last the main army was ready for work again, and on May 1 the troops moved out of the fever-stricken town. French and his cavalry were the last to leave, but they overtook Lord Roberts and the main body, and led the way to Kroonstad, once again the seat of the Free State Government. Here by one of his famous turning movements, French cleverly forced the enemy to surrender and give up the keys of the town. Keeping ahead of Lord Roberts and his forces, he crossed the Vaal River and was first at the gates of Johannesburg, which the British entered on May 31.