The Matabele Campaign

So soon as we recognised that serious fighting was on hand, Colonel Plumer sent Captain Coope with a patrol to see how Beresford was getting on. Coope worked his way round, and later on reappeared with the information that Beresford in the course of his march had been suddenly attacked by the enemy converging on him from three sides at once; he had formed his small party into a square on a convenient plateau, and there for over an hour remained hotly engaged, the enemy rushing up to within a few yards under the good protection afforded by the boulders and bush. It was a stiff and plucky fight on both sides. The enemy, rushing on in great numbers, seemed confident of overwhelming the little force opposed to them; but the whites were ready for them, and opened a steady, destructive fire on them, which checked them time after time. Some natives having effected a lodgment in some rocks commanding the position, Lieutenant Hervey was ordered to dislodge them with a few of his men, and it was while dashing forward to do so that his sergeant–major was shot dead, and he himself fell mortally wounded through the body. His place was at once gallantly taken by Mr. Weston Jarvis, who had sauntered out with a gun to look at the fun, but proved himself a cool and able leader in a tight place.

At one moment, seeing a volley from the enemy was imminent, the order was given by one of the officers to his men to take cover. The men in charge of the Maxim by mistake took this order as applying to them and left the Maxim, in order to take cover as directed; in an instant the rebels saw their chance, and made a rush to get the gun. Llewellyn, the officer in charge, saw their move, and jumped forward himself and alone to counteract it. It was a race for the gun; Llewellyn was there first, and, jumping on to the saddle, turned its stream of fire on to the natives, who were within a few yards of him, and they turned and fled, falling to the fire. The native muleteers behaved very pluckily, taking their carbines and assisting in the defence; the friendly natives who had been employed in carrying the Maxims and Hotchkiss showed very little heart; they crept in and took cover under the back of the mules, excepting one or two, who, when the enemy were close up, got away and joined their ranks. The guns were excellently served, firing case into the enemy at 50 yards; both the officers in charge of the guns – Lieutenant M’Culloch, R.A., and Lieutenant Fraser, West Riding Regiment – were wounded, but both continued to work with the battery.

At one time a war rocket was fired, partly as a signal and partly to obtain a moral effect, and it certainly succeeded in the latter respect, for after its unearthly bang a dead silence seemed to come over the scene, both sides ceased firing as if by common consent, and then the weird notes were heard of Sikombo’s war–horn reverberating through the mountains with a sound like that of a steam siren, calling up reinforcements for the fight.

But meantime, hearing what was going on there, Plumer ordered an immediate advance of his main body. Coope’s Scouts were to lead the way, supported by the two corps of Cape Boys, backed up by the M.R.F. As we came out into the valley from our position, we could see the enemy collected in front of Beresford; they were not then actively attacking him, but they were evidently ready and awaiting further reinforcements, but our appearance soon changed their plans. Retreating hastily from the immediate neighbourhood of Beresford’s position, under fire of his Maxims, they retired on to the next ridge (or fore–finger) to him, many of them getting into position at the koppie at the end of it. This ridge we at once attacked; pressing on with Coope’s Scouts, we were at the foot of the ridge almost as soon as the enemy were on to the upper part of it, and here the fun began. Dismounting and leaving our horses under cover of the rocks, we commenced to clamber up the hill, firing whenever we got a chance. They were firing back at us, but, as a rule, well over our heads; we were in much greater danger from our friends behind. The Cape Boys, who were supporting us, came swarming across the open at the double, every man firing as he ran; men 100 yards in rear as gaily as those who were leading the rush, none of them stopping to take much aim. However, the moral effect on the enemy was all that could be desired. He had not settled himself into position on this ridge before he found the swarm of whites and Cape Boys assailing it, and it required very little pressure to make him quit and take up a better position with the supporting impi on the next ridge.

But those of the enemy who had succeeded in getting into the koppie at the end of the first ridge were evidently determined to hold their own there, and they opened an unpleasantly accurate fire upon us from this coign of advantage. During a pause for breath in the course of the rush, I was talking to Schroeder, the war correspondent, when a fellow had a crack at us from the koppie and cut up the sand between our feet; we then adjourned our conversation to the lee–side of a big rock.

Kershaw’s squadron was now called up to assault this koppie, while I was recalled to take Coope’s Scouts round by Beresford’s position, and, if possible, to work round the flank and rear of the enemy, to observe and report what was going on in that direction. I gathered my party and rode off accordingly, and a parting salute from the defenders of the koppie whistled harmlessly over our heads as we went. It was shortly afterwards, in carrying out the storming of this koppie, that poor Kershaw was shot with two bullets through him at the entrance of the main cave, and his sergeant was shot through the head at the spot where I had been talking to Schroeder, probably by the same man who had fired at us.

On passing through Beresford’s party, I only stopped a few moments to hear his report and to say a word to the wounded, and then rode on, after a handshake with one or two friends. The curious look in the eyes of some of these men who had been near to death haunted one for some time after.

After leaving him, for about half a mile we began the ascent of the ridge, and a very nasty place it was. It was a single narrow track going diagonally up the face of the cliff, very steep and rocky, so that we had to go in single file, leading our horses. We were completely at the mercy of any enemy who liked to come and fire down upon us from above, or who liked to cut in on the path after we had passed up it. In order to prevent this as far as possible, and also to guide supporting parties on to our track, we left one or two men at points along the path.

Finally, on nearing the top, we halted and concealed our horses in the bush. Coope went on ahead as leading scout, and had a look over the crest, and returned to say that the enemy in long strings were retreating across the ridge about half a mile beyond, and that if we could get a few men up to assist us, – we did not number more than half a dozen at this point, – we should have a grand chance at them. He also said that there were some goats close by, and he thought he had heard men’s voices.

I then went up with him to have a look, and could see the enemy getting away as he described. To get up here we had quitted the path for the last 40 yards, and had climbed on to some rocks overlooking it; and now, when Coope went back to bring up the men, I came in for a little fun on my own account.

The bleating of goats was continuous close by, and then I saw the reason: two goats had been tied up, twenty yards apart from each other, in order to make them bleat. Close by, behind a rock, were seated eight niggers, evidently lying in ambush waiting for us to come up the path, following the attractive sound of the goats’ voices, and here was I in a position where they did not expect me! Suddenly one of them saw me, and they took the alarm and dived down to the other side of the rock, but one with a gun stood for a moment looking for me, and gave me a very good chance; he did not join the others behind the rock, but dropped where he was.

They then opened fire on me, but I was in long grass, and merely had to lie down to be quite safe, shifting my position a few yards each time before I returned their shots. I was very quickly joined by half a dozen men, and we had quite a little duel with this piquet of the enemy; but it had the bad effect of bringing more of them upon the scene, and although they had not the pluck to come out and drive us back, they effectively barred us from getting any farther forward.

However, from where we were, on the summit of the ridge we had a splendid bird’s–eye view of the whole of the battlefield, and a good view also of those parties of the enemy who were already in retreat. Too good a view, in fact; it was like a bad dream to see this beautiful opportunity for a pursuit, and yet to find oneself tied by the leg from want of men.

I now began to signal down to Plumer, telling him the state of affairs up here, and asking for more men to come and join in the pursuit, but the reply came back that every man was now employed in making a final attack on the koppies in the valley below; and from where we stood we had a beautiful view of what was going on.

The Cape Boys had worked their way round to the enemy’s right as far as the third and fourth ridges, and did some pretty hard fighting as they went. In one place they found the rocks so steep that they had to take off their boots in order to obtain sufficient foothold, and at one point a counter attack on the part of the enemy in overwhelming numbers pressed them back for a bit. Robertson, Serjeant, and Hubert Howard led this attack, the latter getting wounded in the foot.

The M.R.F. and the police attacked the central portion of the enemy’s position with great steadiness and determination, and drove him out of one position after another, until at last the enemy seemed to give up all hope of continuing the struggle, and strings and parties of them could be seen making off over the hills in all directions, followed wherever they made a good target by the fire of the Maxims and the 7–pounders. Had we had more men where I was, we could have carried out a most effective pursuit; but, after all, the smashing they got was sufficient in itself, and after a time the firing died down, and we could hear the trumpet sounding the recall.

Making my way down to Plumer in response to a signal from him, I found him on the knoll where Beresford’s party had been attacked. Although naturally satisfied with the result of the day’s work, Plumer was evidently affected by the loss of his friend and right–hand man, Kershaw.

We now found that out of our force of seven hundred, five had been killed and fifteen wounded, and among the latter was Lieutenant Hervey, for whom there is little hope. The enemy’s force was estimated at from four to five thousand men, and of these we killed between two and three hundred.

To our great surprise, we found that it was already three o’clock; the day had flown by very quickly. We then reformed the column for marching back to camp, the wounded being taken on stretchers carried by Cape Boys; and I was placed in command of a strong party to act as a rearguard to prevent any attacks from the enemy when moving through the defiles. As we moved slowly away, burning everything inflammable as we went, in the way of huts or long grass, we could see small parties of the enemy going about the field picking up the dead and wounded, and at one point one of our parties engaged in the same work was fired upon by some of the enemy in a koppie, and the rearguard went to their assistance; we found they were bringing out the body of Sergeant M’Loskie laid across the saddle of a spare horse.

Just as we were leaving the hills, a fairly large party of the enemy appeared, following us up and jeering at us. Our boys shouted back at them, and discovered that they were part of Umlugulu’s impi, who had been detached early in the morning to a distant point in another direction where they had expected our attack to come from, and they only arrived on the scene now, to find it was all over. We gave them a parting long–range volley, which effectually stopped them from following us any farther, and just as darkness was coming on, we got out on to the open beyond the mountains.

It was long after dark before we got back into camp. And it was then a curious contrast to see the men being cheered into camp by those who had been left as camp guards, as they marched in singing “The Man who broke the Bank at Monte Carlo,” while here and there between the flickering camp fires the heavy stretchers could be seen slipping quietly past to the hospital.

The following was our roll of casualties in this fight. It is curious what a large proportion of them are officers and non–commissioned officers. Seven officers, eight non–commissioned officers, and three troopers.

Killed, 5

Major F. Kershaw, 2nd Battalion York and Lancaster Regiment.

Sergeant Oswald M’Loskie, —

Sergeant William Gibb, —

Sergeant Innes Kerr (all of the Matabeleland Relief Force), and

Battalion Sergeant–Major Alexander Winstree, Matabele Mounted Police.

Wounded, 15

Sergeant–Major W. M. Josephs, M.R.F., slightly.

Sergeant Arthur E. Brabant, M.R.F., slightly.

Trooper W. M. Currie, M.R.F., severely.

Troop Sergeant–Major Rawlings Dumeresque, M.R.F.

Trooper Alfred John Evelyn Holmes, M.R.F., severely.

Trooper Thomas Gordon, M.M.P.

Captain Windley, B.F.F.

Lieutenant the Hon. Hubert Howard, of Robertson’s Cape Boys.

Lieutenant Robert H. M’Culloch, Royal Artillery.

Lieutenant Norman Warden Fraser, 2nd Battalion Duke of Wellington’s West Riding Regiment.

Captain Charles H. Fowler, M.R.F.

Corporal Richard Turnbull, M.R.F., and two Cape Boys, slightly.

Lieutenant H. J. Hervey, M.R.F., dangerously (since dead).

CHAPTER IX

The Final Operations in the Matopos

6th August to 10th August

Patrol to the Back of Umlugulu’s Stronghold – We toy with the Enemy – Capture their Cattle – Reconnaissance in the Matopos – Night March – Do not speak to the Man at the Wheel – Delays in a Night March – The Penalty of Non–Alertness in a Piquet – Mnyakavula’s Stronghold – More of Umlugulu’s Cattle captured – Duels with the Enemy – Enemy serenade us in Camp – A chilly Night – Hints to young Leaders.

6th August.– It is a sad shock to sit in one’s little mess of half a dozen comrades once more, and to find two of them are missing from the meal. Poor Kershaw and Hervey! Now and then one is on the point of calling to the usual sleeping–place of one or other of them to bid him come and eat, when suddenly the grim, cold recollection strikes you – “He is yonder – dead.”

Poor Hervey took his mortal wound as though it were but a cut finger, yet knowing that he was fast passing away. Now and then he sent for those he knew to come and see him and to say good–bye. He was perfectly possessed and cheery to the last, and happily without much pain.

Poor chap, this was his first fight. He had been the paymaster to the forces, and had asked me to get him some appointment in the field. When he joined us in camp, I could not for the moment find a billet for him, till it occurred to me that there was a small company of men who had come up from Kimberley without an officer. They were so deficient in belts and bayonet scabbards that they always went with bayonets “fixed,” and had thus gained for themselves the nickname of “The Forlorn Hope.”

On suggesting “The Forlorn Hope” to Hervey, he was delighted, and it was at their head he so gallantly met his death.