CHAPTER IX.
LORD METHUEN'S ADVANCE—continued.

The night of the 23rd and morning of the 24th were spent in camp near Thomas' Farm while the Engineers, supported by the armoured train, repaired the railway line. In the afternoon of the 24th the camp was struck and the force marched seven miles north to Swinks Pan, over the waterless veldt, leaving the 1st Scots Guards and two companies of Munster Fusiliers—who had come up from Orange River—to hold Belmont station, in the neighbourhood of which there was still a small Boer force 500 strong. This day the armoured train had a brush with the Boers, in which three officers and men were killed or wounded. At Swinks Pan there was a good water supply, and there the column halted. Away to the east rose kopjes, which, the scouts had ascertained, were held by Boers. The enemy's strength, however, could only be guessed at; it was placed at 400 men. Events showed very plainly that this was a ludicrous underestimate. The Boers had closely dogged the column, though rarely or never seen. At Swinks Pan traces of their presence and smouldering camp fires were discovered, showing that their scouts had been close at hand.

That night the column received orders to be under arms at dawn, when a move was to be made for Graspan, where was the enemy's position. The Boer force being believed insignificant, only the Ninth Brigade, with the artillery, cavalry and mounted infantry would, it was thought, be required. The Guards were accordingly left with the baggage—they had done the hardest work at Belmont and had fully earned the right to a rest—and were directed to march north to Enslin, which was to be the next halting point.

Soon after 6 a.m. of the 25th, the Ninth Brigade found itself in front of the Boer position. This lay along a line of low but steep hills; upon the extreme left, connected with these hills by a long, grassy ridge, was a small, stony kopje, which is thus described by Colonel Verner: "Five hundred yards from the kopje's summit the plain rose gradually, and scattered boulders were to be seen. Two hundred yards nearer, the slope steepened and the boulders were more numerous. Another hundred and fifty yards and the slope became almost a precipice—a mass of rock and scree—and could only be climbed on hands and knees in many places. Here and there were vertical patches of cliff; everywhere rocks and boulders gave fine cover." Here, it was afterwards discovered, was posted the old guard of the Boer force—a party of 300 Transvaalers, but recently arrived from Kimberley. The enemy's strength was actually between 2,000 and 3,000, with one heavy gun, five field guns, a Maxim 1-pounder automatic—the dreaded "Pom-Pom" which Lord Methuen's men were now to face for the first time—and a rifle-calibre Maxim. The Boers were under the command of General Delarey; they appear to have been a different force from that which had fought at Belmont.

In consequence of the heavy loss which he had sustained in storming the kopjes at Belmont without full artillery preparation, Lord Methuen brought up his field batteries and two naval guns, and opened the battle by a prolonged bombardment of the Boer position. Already, about 6 a.m., the enemy had fired the first shot at a party of Rimington's Scouts who ventured within range. The field-guns began their work at a range of 2,500 yards, and then closed in to 1,500. The naval guns opened at 5,000 yards and closed to 2,800. The Boers vigorously replied with their guns, but as these were scattered and not massed together, as they furthermore fired smokeless powder, and were in some cases posted just behind the crest of the ridge, they were almost impossible to locate. Indeed, in this battle, as in the Belmont action, the enemy's invisibility was nerve-shaking. There were no masses of men to be seen and made into targets; no gleaming array of guns invited a deluge of projectiles. But for the crackling roar and the quick, heavy banging of the "Pom-Pom" and the field-guns, but for the flashes of fire from the rifles, the line of kopjes might have been the haunt of only the little "dikkopf" and the great South African vulture.

The feature of the artillery fight was a duel between the "Pom-Pom" and the 18th Field Battery. "The Boer gun," says Mr. Julian Ralph, the brilliant correspondent of the Daily Mail, "was never seen, and the man who served it never once saw us. His piece was hidden beyond the ridge on the further slope, and a comrade gave him his range and direction. For a long time this gunner devoted his attention to one of the field batteries. Next he attacked the black mass made by their horses and limbers. Later he paid his respects to the naval gun and its crew. He never achieved perfect excellence, for he did no damage to any British gun; he killed but two horses in the field, and he wounded but five of our men altogether. And yet he got his range so quickly and well, and he was so persistent and so wholly invisible, that our men set their teeth in grim determination to destroy him. They had for a target nothing but the thin smoke which rose over his gun, but into that little floating cloud they planted shot and shell, until at the end of the day they had given out 210 rounds, if I remember the extraordinary figure correctly. All the other Boer guns were silenced before this one was, and at twenty minutes to ten this was silenced and every gun of the enemy was speechless."

Says an officer in command of one section (two guns) of the 18th Field Battery:—"I had a warm time of it, from a quick-firing gun, firing one-inch common shell, but luckily all the rounds (about 100) fell just about 100 yards beyond my guns. We didn't get a scratch. In the meantime I plugged away at the right hand line of kopjes, but couldn't for the life of me see where their cursed little gun was."

Noting the intensity of the artillery and rifle fire, and receiving reports that a fresh commando of the enemy was advancing from the north-east and threatening his rear, Lord Methuen came to the conclusion that the Boer force before him was far stronger than 400. Accordingly he heliographed orders back to Belmont to the battalion of Coldstreams and to the Guards' Brigade, now on their march to Enslin, for them to hasten immediately to his help.

The British artillery fire soon appeared to get the Boer fire under. From the first the enemy had wasted ammunition at absurd ranges upon our guns with but little effect, seeming more intent on fancy shooting than upon doing any real damage. To all who watched the bombardment of the kopjes it appeared impossible that any living thing could be left upon them. A perfect hailstorm of shrapnel descended upon the stony slopes, yet, as was afterwards discovered, with but inconsiderable effect. The Boers had for the most part fallen back from the slopes which faced our guns to the other side of the ridge, where they lay behind the boulders in almost complete security.

About 7 a.m. the infantry began to work forward under cover of the artillery fire, to assault the isolated kopje upon the left of the Boer position. The Boer right was merely watched by five companies of the Northumberlands; the Yorkshire Light Infantry, marines and seamen of the Naval Brigade, and North Lancashires were concentrated against the kopje. The Naval Brigade led the storming force, extended in a single line, each man six paces apart from his neighbour on either hand. "As the line passed me," writes Colonel Verner, "I noted how each hard, clean-cut face was from time to time anxiously turned towards the directing flank, so as to satisfy each individual that the interval and dressing were properly kept.... No better kept line ever went forward to death or glory." As they began the ascent, advancing by brief rushes in very open order, the hill suddenly appeared to swarm with enemies; from the crest, from behind every boulder, poured a murderous fire. The naval officers of the brigade still carried swords and could be readily distinguished; they were the target of every Boer rifle. "In the breathing time between the rushes of the assailants," says Colonel Verner, "one conspicuous figure was to be seen standing erect, and marking the station taken up by the Naval Brigade. This was their commanding officer, Captain Prothero, R.N., a man of great stature and immense physique, who elected thus to stand leaning on his walking-stick while his men, lying prone, gathered breath for another rush.... Eventually the inevitable occurred and he was seen to drop, happily only wounded and out of action for a time." It was at this point that Commander Ethelston of the Powerful was hit half-a-dozen times and killed, and that Major Plumbe of the Marines, who was gallantly leading in front of his men, closely followed into the storm of battle by his little terrier, staggered, shouting to his superb soldiers not to mind him, but to advance. He never rose again. There too fell Captain Senior, side by side with his field officer. So terrible was the fire, so annihilating its effects upon the Brigade, which had drawn into closer and closer order as the hill steepened and the space narrowed, that the order was given to retire upon the last cover.

For a moment it seemed as though the attack had failed. But the artillery poured its fire upon the crest of the ridge with more vehemence than ever; and up the slopes in very open order, firing and cheering, came the Yorkshire Light Infantry to the support of the hard-pressed Naval Brigade, while the Loyal North Lancashires and Northumberlands, too, were sweeping forward upon the line of heights held by the Boers. Once more the seamen and marines pressed upward at an order from the wounded Captain Prothero: "Men of the Naval Brigade, advance at the double; take that kopje and be hanged to it." Full in the front of them was Midshipman Huddart of the Doris, who even in that band of heroes won a name for conspicuous and amazing bravery. At the bottom of the hill he had fallen hit in the arm; halfway up he was shot through the leg; yet staggering forward he reached the summit of the blood-stained slope, where, shot once more, in the stomach, he breathed forth his young life. Thus died the officers of the Royal Navy. For the last few yards of the advance the Boers could no longer fire with safety upon their assailants. Their very position became disadvantageous as the slopes were so steep that they had to stand up to see their assailants, and in the deluge of shrapnel and rifle bullets which beat upon the summit, this was almost certain death. Lieutenant Taylor of the 2nd Yorkshire Light Infantry and Lieutenant Jones of the Marines, the last in spite of a bullet in his thigh, were the first into the Boer entrenchments at the top. They were closely followed, and the kopje was won.

Throughout the advance of the Naval Brigade the naval officers behaved with the most reckless and devoted courage. "Your fellows are too brave," said a soldier-officer of famous gallantry to a sailor-officer. "It is utterly useless for you to go on as you do, for you will only all get killed in this sort of warfare. I saw your officers walking about in front of their men, even when the latter were taking cover, just as if they were carrying on on board ship." "Did you watch the Naval Brigade?" said Colonel Barter to a staff officer. "By Heaven, I never saw anything so magnificent in my life."

The scene on the summit is thus described by The Times correspondent:—"The hill-top was almost dripping with blood; not a boulder escaped its splash of crimson, and the innumerable splinters and chips of the ironstone blocks indicated the terrific nature of our fire. Most of the dead or wounded Boers were carried off—thirty of the more severely wounded were found in their hospital a quarter of a mile away—but here and there a dead man proved that here the Transvaal had sent its men down for the first time to meet the oncoming column."

"I shall never forget the faces of some of those who had fallen in the final rush," says Colonel Verner, of the dead of the Naval Brigade. "They lay about in every attitude, many with their rifles, with bayonets fixed, tightly clutched in their hands, and in some cases still held at the charge. There were the same hard-featured, clean-cut faces, which but a short time before I had watched laboriously skirmishing across the veldt, now pale in death, but with the same set expression of being in terrible earnest to see the business through."

The enemy fled towards his right along the ridge; others mounted their horses and made off to the north. The Lancers and Rimington's Scouts essayed pursuit, but hurrying after the enemy had to pass between two seemingly untenanted kopjes. As the mounted men drew near to these, the slopes burst into flame and a sheet of lead checked the pursuit. The force which thus suddenly intervened was afterwards believed to have been a detachment of Transvaalers under General Cronje, whose coming Delarey was awaiting. The cavalry were too exhausted to follow up. "For the second time," wrote Lord Methuen, "I longed for a Cavalry Brigade and Horse Artillery Battery to let me reap the fruits of a hard-fought action." Had he been able to launch a strong force of mounted men upon the enemy, the Boer guns must have been captured, the Boer army destroyed, and the relief of Kimberley without further fighting might well have been assured. There would then have been no Modder River, no Magersfontein. As it was, all that could be done was for the artillery to shell the fugitives at long range.

The deadliness of the Boer fire is seen in the heavy losses of the Naval Brigade and in the fact that most of those who reached the summit of the kopje unwounded had bullets through their clothes or equipment. A marine officer had his water bottle and revolver shot away, his leather belt cut, and the magazine of his rifle carried off by a bullet, but escaped injury himself.

The British losses were sixteen officers and men killed, 169 wounded, of whom four died of their wounds, and nine missing. The Naval Brigade was by far the heaviest sufferer, as it lost no less than 101 officers and men, out of a total of 365 on the field. The Marines left nearly half their strength upon the ground, the "Blue Marines" or Marine Artillery being the hardest hit of all, with twenty-six killed and wounded out of a strength of fifty-seven. Yet men questioned whether it was wise to use up the magnificent personnel of the fleet in such attacks, when this personnel is none too strong, and when it takes years to train seamen. After the battle the Brigade was deservedly thanked by the Queen. "The Queen desires," ran her telegram, "that you will convey to the Naval Brigade who were present at the action of Graspan, Her Majesty's congratulations on their gallant conduct, and at the same time express the Queen's regret at the losses sustained by the Brigade."

The Boer losses in the action can only be guessed at. Twenty-one dead were found on the field and buried; thirty wounded Boers were captured in the enemy's hospital, and a few unwounded men were also taken. Among the prisoners was Mr. Jeppe, a Transvaal millionaire, and Commandant Rissik. In all, the enemy's casualties probably exceeded our own, and may be placed at from 200 to 240. The Jacobsdal commando, 180 strong, alone lost forty-six men killed and wounded. Here, as before at Belmont, there was the same violation of the white flag, with, superadded, gross misuse of the red cross flag.

From the battle, which was known officially by the name of Enslin, though it had occurred near the tiny village of Graspan, the army marched to Enslin and there bivouacked. There was little or no water, and this added greatly to the suffering of the troops after the morning's terrible fight under a sweltering sun. The men crowded round the locomotives and offered immense sums—a whole year's pay—for a cup of water from the tenders, but in vain. The engine-drivers had received the strictest orders on no account to part with their water. One soldier was seen lying flat under a steam pipe, striving to catch in his mouth the scanty drops. Nor was there any too much food. Nothing beyond the service rations had been able to keep pace with the column. The men had to do without the little canteen luxuries which add so much to the pleasure of a soldier's life. The officers had to fare upon bully beef and compressed vegetables, despite the champagne and delicacies which the thoughtful mess caterers had brought out from England only to be stacked in mountainous piles at De Aar.

At Enslin Lord Methuen addressed his troops upon the morning after the battle. He congratulated them upon the work they had done, and expressed his appreciation of their gallant endurance of hardship. The work was the severest encountered by the British Army for many a long day. They had, in front of them, an enemy to whom they could not afford to give one point, whose tactics had been excellent, and whose courage he recognised and admired. When called upon to fight for his country, he preferred to fight against such a foe—a foe worthy of his steel. He hoped that he and his men had gained each other's confidence, and that they would all do their duty as Englishmen should do.

He went on to the painful topic of the abuse of the white flag and red-cross flag, describing as dastardly the conduct of the enemy in firing on ambulance waggons, the shooting of a British officer by a wounded Boer, and the use of Dum-Dum bullets; but he refused to believe that these acts were characteristic of the enemy. He would give them credit, until he was convinced to the contrary, that they, like the British, wished to fight "fair and square."

From Enslin the division marched to Klokfontein, only eight miles from Modder River. The railway and telegraph were repaired as the column advanced. At Klokfontein the army suffered the usual torments for want of water. The muddy water of the stagnant pools, which were the only source of supply discovered, was eagerly drunk by the heavy-laden, thirsty men. Word was passed that there would be plenty of the precious fluid next morning at the Modder River, but for only too many in the British column that moment of supreme satisfaction when raging thirst is quenched was never to come.

So the column encamped with orders to march at dawn and breakfast on the Modder. Lord Methuen, his staff, even the British scouts, had been deceived by rumours artfully spread to the effect that the enemy would make no stand before Spytfontein, some miles beyond the Modder River. A reconnaissance on the 27th revealed no sign of the enemy. "There was," says Mr. Kinnear, "an absurd contempt for the enemy on the part of the Headquarters Staff, and an indifference most pronounced as to his whereabouts and strength. At Graspan Lord Methuen expected a brush with 800 Boers. He encountered over 3,000 of the enemy. But this taught no lesson, until we became almost like the courtiers of King Louis, who neither learned anything nor forgot anything." Yet, in justice to a much-criticised general, it should be remembered that Lord Methuen on the afternoon of the 27th personally examined Modder River bridge, and rode within 300 yards of what afterwards proved to be the Boer position. The enemy did not stir or move; no shots were fired; and no sign whatever of the presence of 8,000 or 9,000 men could be detected.

At Klokfontein Lord Methuen was reinforced by a fine Highland battalion, the 1st Argyll and Sutherlands. Deducting all losses he had now 8,000 infantry, 400 cavalry and mounted infantry, and 300 artillery with twelve guns. At Belmont, in his rear was the 62nd Field Battery with six more guns. It will be seen that the column still remained pitifully weak in two essential components of an army—cavalry and artillery.

At dawn of November 28th the division got under arms and cheerfully marched off to disperse the handful of demoralised fugitives who were, it was reported, all that would be encountered at Modder River. From the Modder it was to bend eastwards to Jacobsdal and come in upon the flank of the Boers at Spytfontein. The early morning air was clear and cold, but the breakfastless men marched joyously down the gentle slopes, eight miles long, towards the eagerly desired water. A few minutes of skirmishing was the most that anyone expected. Yet early in the morning—seemingly while the division was on the march—Lord Methuen received disquieting news. This was to the effect that the Boers were in great force at the Modder. Still he felt no great anxiety; he had been told that the Riet and Modder Rivers were fordable everywhere, and therefore he thought that he could easily outflank the enemy and drive them from their positions. He does not appear to have communicated the news to his subordinate generals and battalion commanders. Indeed, so free from care was he, that he gave his cook orders to get his breakfast ready as his line of men neared the Modder River. Still, the approach to the river was made in very open order and no reasonable precaution was neglected.

The disposition of the British troops was as follows:—On the right was the Guards' Brigade, with the Scots Guards, Grenadiers, and 2nd Coldstreams in line from right to left, and the 1st Coldstreams following in support. On the left was the Ninth Brigade, under Major-General Pole-Carew, composed of the Northumberland Fusiliers, Yorkshires, and North Lancashires in line from right to left, with the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders in support. The two field batteries were on the right, where also were the Lancers and mounted infantry. To the rear were the transport and ammunition waggons in charge of the Northamptons.

About the centre of the British front was the railway to Kimberley, which crosses the Modder upon an iron bridge. That bridge had been entirely destroyed by the Boers, and culverts on the line two miles to the south of the river had been blown up, thereby rendering it impossible for the armoured train with Lord Methuen's column to approach. Half-a-mile to the east of the railway bridge was the confluence of the Riet and Modder Rivers, the Riet coming in from the south-east and the Modder from the north-east. As far as the confluence, the width of the bed of the Riet is about 300 yards; below the confluence the stream, now known as the Modder, flows in a bed 400 to 500 yards wide. Two miles below the railway bridge a dam had been erected to make a sheet of water for pleasure seekers from Kimberley, and the banks of the river were thickly covered with trees and brushwood. In this sylvan scene straggled a village consisting mainly of hotels, built of corrugated iron, stone, brick, adobe, and mud. In spite of Lord Methuen's information as to the fordability of the river, there were only three drifts—one over the Riet on the extreme British right; the other in the centre close to the railway bridge, and the third on the left just below the dam.

Unknown to Lord Methuen, the Boers had made the most elaborate preparations to meet his force. General Cronje was in command of the Boers, and had with him from 8,000 to 10,000 men, one half of whom were Transvaalers. Entrenchments had been constructed for five miles along both banks of the river. They were masked by shrubs and brushwood, and even the best field-glass could not detect their outline. On the Boer right were the Free Staters under Delarey; on the left the Transvaalers under Cronje. On the north bank of the river were stationed seven field guns, with one heavy gun—probably a 100-pounder—on high ground, about two miles back. On the tongue of land between the Riet and Modder, ready to enfilade the British, were a "Pom-Pom" and two field guns, whilst several Maxims and machine guns were scattered along the enemy's front.

The artillery and mounted troops were in advance of the British line. The first glimpse of the enemy was gained about 6·30 a.m., when a body of 500 mounted Boers was made out away on the right. They rode rapidly towards the enemy's left, at once drawing the cavalry and mounted men in pursuit. Then a Boer gun on the British right opened fire. So far there had been no sign of life west of the junction of the Riet and the Modder, and it was thought that the village was not held by the enemy.

The British 18th and 75th Field Batteries at once unlimbered on the right and opened fire at an extreme range of about 4,500 yards. The Boer artillery on the eastern half of the enemy's position replied, but very languidly. Here, as before at Belmont and Graspan, it was most difficult to locate the hostile guns. They were not massed, but scattered singly, in strongly entrenched and well-masked gun-pits, so that the only sign of their presence was a flash and faint film of blue-white smoke, which instantly dissolved into the air. For some time this long-range skirmish continued; then, gradually, the Boer guns seemed to be silenced by the British shrapnel, and it was thought that a small rearguard in the British front was falling back under cover of the desultory cannonade.

Accordingly, the Guards received orders to develop their advance. Neglected by the enemy's artillery they pushed rapidly forward and reached a point only about 800 yards from the enemy's trenches, descending the smooth, grassy slope, which led gently down to the river. Far away to the left a thin, long line of khaki-clad men pressed forward, the Ninth Brigade following the example of the Guards. The enemy's plan, it was afterwards learnt from prisoners, was to permit the British troops to approach within 400 yards, and then to open on them from ambush an annihilating fire. But this design was foiled by the clumsy nervousness of the Free Staters in the trenches to the south of the river. When they saw the British troops only 800 yards off them, they held that the enemy was quite near enough, and in defiance of their orders opened a terrific fire.

Along the whole extent of the Boer front ran an appalling crackling uproar, above which could plainly be heard the terrible pom-pom-pom of the Maxim. The effects of this fire were amazing; the leading ranks fell to the earth in an instant, killed or wounded. The Scots Guards' Maxim detachment was annihilated in half-a-dozen shots by the Maxim 1-pounder; the sergeant in charge was killed, and every man with the gun was placed hors de combat. Staggered by the sudden fury and intensity of the fire, which seemed to deliver a continuous sheet of missiles, the soldiers of the Guards and the Ninth Brigade found that they could no longer advance. They scorned the cowardly alternative of retreating, and as the only other course left to them, threw themselves prone on the ground.

The same course was followed by the men in every part of the field, simultaneously, as if by instinct. From the wide extent and vehemence of the fire, it was clear that the British were confronted by a great force, and that a desperate action must be fought before the eagerly longed for water could be reached. It was simply impossible to extricate the British army, the battle having once been joined in this manner. No flank attack could be delivered where almost every man was engaged with the enemy directly before him. Lord Methuen found himself for the second time committed to a struggle which he had not planned, and could do little or nothing but trust to his superb soldiers wearing the enemy down. He telegraphed at once to Belmont for the 62nd Field Battery to march with all possible speed to his assistance, and directed two companies of Munster Fusiliers to entrain and advance to the battlefield. This done, he turned to the control of the battle.

The two British batteries on the field pushed in upon the centre of the Boer position, and at a range of about 2,000 yards began to deliver a storm of shrapnel upon the village and the Boer trenches. The whereabouts of these had to be guessed, for there was still no sign of the enemy. The battlefield appeared empty of men—the British soldiers prostrate on the ground, the Boers artfully concealed; and few who fought through that long day in our ranks saw even a single opponent. The men fired at what they thought was the enemy's position, fired at the flash of the guns, fired at the quarter from which came the heavy hammering of the big Maxim. That, even so, they shot to some purpose was known when after the battle the shield of the Maxim was found splashed gray with British bullets.

After the British infantrymen threw themselves down, their losses were singularly small. Fortunately the soldiers had left their great coats with the baggage, for these, being dark in colour, would have shown up against the brown surface of the veldt and the dingy hue of the khaki, and so have drawn the enemy's fire. At first some officers attempted to stand up and lead their men forward, but such attempts immediately drew a perfect storm of bullets. One brave sergeant who endeavoured to lead a rush was hit half-a-dozen times. The men suffered agonies from thirst and want of food and the intense heat of the sun. As the morning went on the heat rose to 110°, and the sun's rays scorched and blistered the bare legs of the Highlanders in the most painful manner. If a breath of wind blew to relieve them, it would ruffle their kilts and instantly draw the enemy's fire with deadly effect. The few drops of tepid muddy water in the water bottles were speedily exhausted. In their frantic eagerness to drink, men would rise, though they knew this meant certain death or wounds, and would attempt to crawl to the water carts in the rear. In this manner the Coldstreams lost many men, till it was realised that to bring the carts near the rear was a cruel and irresistible temptation. As for the wounded, they had to lie and suffer if they could not crawl back to the rear. The bearer companies displayed the utmost devotion, yet they lost so heavily that they could not show themselves within the bullet-swept zone where lay most of the wounded. Nor could ammunition be sent to the firing line; after one or two attempts the men in front had to be left entirely to their own resources.

So hot was the fire, so keen the enemy's watch upon the surface of the plain that the slightest movement attracted a rain of bullets. An officer put up his hand; in a moment a storm of projectiles whistled over him. He did not repeat the experiment. "If one asked a comrade for a drink of water," says Mr. Ralph, the correspondent of the Daily Mail, "he saw the bottle or the hand that was passing it pierced by a Dum-dum or with a 1-pounder Nordenfelt shell. Or if he raised his head to writhe in his pain he felt his helmet shot away. From the rear ammunition carriers and stretcher bearers walked boldly forward until, the moment they were within range, a sheet, a torrent of bullets and small shells raked the air as jets of water spurt from a flower-sprinkler. But that image is too faint, for the jets were all whistling or shrieking, throwing up fountains of red sand, exploding in hundreds of detonations like echoes of the guns that spewed them. At this, down upon their bellies dropped the stretcher bearers and the cartridge carriers, and there they lay for hours, never rising or attempting to rise without loosening this torrent anew." The Maxim shells rushing through the air "like so many jets of steam released from the highest pressure, and singing like little steam whistles," had great moral effect. One, landing between an unhappy soldier's legs, shattered both his thighs. Yet, speaking generally, the moral effect was greater far than the material.

Among the other torments which were patiently endured, not the least were the ants which sallied forth in thousands and bit and stung the soldiers, when the many ant hills dotted over the plain were broken up by the enemy's artillery.