Three weeks later he writes:
April 10th, 1900.
We certainly shall have done a good march when we get to the railroad,
478 miles through a country desolate of forage carrying our own transport
and one-half rations of forage, and frequently the men's rations.
For two days running we had nine hours in the saddle without food.
My throat was sore and swollen for a day or two, and I felt
so sorry for myself at times that I laughed to think how I must have looked:
sitting on a stone, drinking a pan of tea without trimmings,
that had got cold, and eating a shapeless lump of brown bread;
my one "hank" drawn around my neck, serving as hank and bandage alternately.
It is miserable to have to climb up on one's horse with a head
like a buzz saw, the sun very hot, and "gargle" in one's water bottle.
It is surprising how I can go without water if I have to on a short stretch,
that is, of ten hours in the sun. It is after nightfall that the thirst
really seems to attack one and actually gnaws. One thinks of all
the cool drinks and good things one would like to eat. Please understand
that this is not for one instant in any spirit of growling.
The detail was now established at Victoria Road. Three entries appear*:
* I only count two. . . . A. L., 1995.
April 23rd, 1900.
We are still here in camp hoping for orders to move, but they have
not yet come. Most of the other troops have gone. A squadron of the M.C.R.,
my messmates for the past five weeks, have gone and I am left an orphan.
I was very sorry to see them go. They, in the kindness of their hearts,
say, if I get stranded, they will do the best they can to get a troop for me
in the squadron or some such employment. Impracticable, but kind.
I have no wish to cease to be a gunner.
Victoria Road, May 20th, 1900.
The horses are doing as well as one can expect, for the rations
are insufficient. Our men have been helping to get ready a rest camp near us,
and have been filling mattresses with hay. Every fatigue party comes back
from the hospital, their jackets bulging with hay for the horses.
Two bales were condemned as too musty to put into the mattresses,
and we were allowed to take them for the horses. They didn't leave
a spear of it. Isn't it pitiful? Everything that the heart of man and woman
can devise has been sent out for the "Tommies", but no one thinks
of the poor horses. They get the worst of it all the time. Even now
we blush to see the handful of hay that each horse gets at a feed.
The Boer War is so far off in time and space that a few further
detached references must suffice:
When riding into Bloemfontein met Lord —'s funeral at the cemetery gates,
— band, firing party, Union Jack, and about three companies.
A few yards farther on a "Tommy" covered only by his blanket,
escorted by thirteen men all told, the last class distinction
that the world can ever make.
We had our baptism of fire yesterday. They opened on us from the left flank.
Their first shell was about 150 yards in front — direction good.
The next was 100 yards over; and we thought we were bracketed.
Some shrapnel burst over us and scattered on all sides.
I felt as if a hail storm was coming down, and wanted to turn my back,
but it was over in an instant. The whistle of a shell is unpleasant.
You hear it begin to scream; the scream grows louder and louder;
it seems to be coming exactly your way; then you realize
that it has gone over. Most of them fell between our guns and wagons.
Our position was quite in the open.
With Ian Hamilton's column near Balmoral.
The day was cold, much like a December day at home, and by my kit going astray
I had only light clothing. The rain was fearfully chilly.
When we got in about dark we found that the transport could not come up,
and it had all our blankets and coats. I had my cape and a rubber sheet
for the saddle, both soaking wet. Being on duty I held to camp,
the others making for the house nearby where they got poor quarters.
I bunked out, supperless like every one else, under an ammunition wagon.
It rained most of the night and was bitterly cold. I slept at intervals,
keeping the same position all night, both legs in a puddle and my feet
being rained on: it was a long night from dark at 5.30 to morning.
Ten men in the infantry regiment next us died during the night from exposure.
Altogether I never knew such a night, and with decent luck hope never to see
such another.
As we passed we saw the Connaughts looking at the graves of their comrades
of twenty years ago. The Battery rode at attention and gave "Eyes right":
the first time for twenty years that the roll of a British gun has broken in
on the silence of those unnamed graves.
We were inspected by Lord Roberts. The battery turned out very smart,
and Lord Roberts complimented the Major on its appearance.
He then inspected, and afterwards asked to have the officers called out.
We were presented to him in turn; he spoke a few words to each of us,
asking what our corps and service had been. He seemed surprised
that we were all Field Artillery men, but probably the composition
of the other Canadian units had to do with this. He asked
a good many questions about the horses, the men, and particularly about
the spirits of the men. Altogether he showed a very kind interest
in the battery.
At nine took the Presbyterian parade to the lines, the first
Presbyterian service since we left Canada. We had the right,
the Gordons and the Royal Scots next. The music was excellent,
led by the brass band of the Royal Scots, which played extremely well.
All the singing was from the psalms and paraphrases: "Old Hundred"
and "Duke Street" among them. It was very pleasant to hear the old reliables
once more. "McCrae's Covenanters" some of the officers called us;
but I should not like to set our conduct up against the standard
of those austere men.
At Lyndenburg:
The Boers opened on us at about 10,000 yards, the fire being accurate
from the first. They shelled us till dark, over three hours.
The guns on our left fired for a long time on Buller's camp,
the ones on our right on us. We could see the smoke and flash;
then there was a soul-consuming interval of 20 to 30 seconds
when we would hear the report, and about five seconds later the burst.
Many in succession burst over and all around us. I picked up pieces
which fell within a few feet. It was a trying afternoon,
and we stood around wondering. We moved the horses back,
and took cover under the wagons. We were thankful when the sun went down,
especially as for the last hour of daylight they turned all their guns on us.
The casualties were few.
The next morning a heavy mist prevented the enemy from firing.
The division marched out at 7.30 A.M. The attack was made in three columns:
cavalry brigade on the left; Buller's troops in the centre, Hamilton's on
the right. The Canadian artillery were with Hamilton's division.
The approach to the hill was exposed everywhere except where some cover
was afforded by ridges. We marched out as support to the Gordons,
the cavalry and the Royal Horse Artillery going out to our right
as a flank guard. While we were waiting three 100-pound shells
struck the top of the ridge in succession about 50 to 75 yards in front
of the battery line. We began to feel rather shaky.
On looking over the field at this time one could not tell
that anything was occurring except for the long range guns replying
to the fire from the hill. The enemy had opened fire as soon as our advance
was pushed out. With a glass one could distinguish the infantry pushing up
in lines, five or six in succession, the men being some yards apart.
Then came a long pause, broken only by the big guns. At last we got the order
to advance just as the big guns of the enemy stopped their fire.
We advanced about four miles mostly up the slope, which is in all
about 1500 feet high, over a great deal of rough ground
and over a number of spruits. The horses were put to their utmost
to draw the guns up the hills. As we advanced we could see artillery
crawling in from both flanks, all converging to the main hill, while far away
the infantry and cavalry were beginning to crown the heights near us.
Then the field guns and the pompoms began to play. As the field guns
came up to a broad plateau section after section came into action,
and we fired shrapnel and lyddite on the crests ahead and to the left.
Every now and then a rattle of Mausers and Metfords would tell us
that the infantry were at their work, but practically the battle was over.
From being an infantry attack as expected it was the gunners' day,
and the artillery seemed to do excellent work.
General Buller pushed up the hill as the guns were at work,
and afterwards General Hamilton; the one as grim as his pictures,
the other looking very happy. The wind blew through us cold like ice
as we stood on the hill; as the artillery ceased fire the mist dropped over us
chilling us to the bone. We were afraid we should have to spend the night
on the hill, but a welcome order came sending us back to camp,
a distance of five miles by the roads, as Buller would hold the hill,
and our force must march south. Our front was over eight miles wide
and the objective 1500 feet higher than our camp, and over six miles away.
If the enemy had had the nerve to stand, the position could scarcely
have been taken; certainly not without the loss of thousands.
For this campaign he received the Queen's Medal with three clasps.
