South African Memories: Social, Warlike & Sporting from Diaries Written at the TimeWilson, Sarah Isabella Augusta, Lady
History
South African Memories: Social, Warlike & Sporting from Diaries Written at the Time
Wilson, Sarah Isabella Augusta, Lady
South Africa -- Description and travel; South African War, 1899-1902 -- Personal narratives
On June 27 I left Johannesburg under the escort of Major Bobby White,
who had kindly promised to see me safely as far as Cape Town. We
travelled in a shabby third-class carriage, the only one on the train,
which was merely composed of open trucks. Our first long delay was at
Elandsfontein, practically still in the Rand District. There the officer
in charge came up with the pleasing intelligence that the train we were
to join had broken down, and would certainly be four hours late; so we
had to get through a very weary wait at this most unattractive little
township, whose only interesting features were the distant chimneys and
unsightly shafts of the Simmer and Jack and the Rose Deep Mines, and far
away, on the horizon, the little white house, amid a grove of trees,
which had been Lord Roberts's headquarters barely a month ago, and from
which he had sent the summons to Johannesburg to surrender. All around,
indeed, was the scene of recent fighting, and various polite transport
officers tried to while away the tedium of our enforced delay by
pointing out various faint ridges, and explaining that _there_ the
Gordons had made their splendid charge, or, again, that farther back
General French had encountered such a stubborn resistance, and so on,
_ad libitum_. In response I gazed with enthusiastic interest, but the
flat, hideous country, which guards its deeply buried treasure so
closely, seemed so alike in every direction, and the operations of the
victorious army covered so wide an area, that it was difficult to make a
brain picture of that rapid succession of feats of arms. At the station
itself the "Tommys" buzzed about like bees, and the officers were having
tea or dinner, or both combined, in the refreshment-room. One overheard
scraps of conversation, from a subaltern to his superior officer: "A
capital bag to-day, sir. Forty Mausers and ten thousand rounds of
ammunition." Then someone else remarked that a railway-train from the
South passed yesterday, riddled with bullets, and recounted the
marvellous escape its occupants had had, which was not encouraging in
view of our intended journey over the same route. A young man in
uniform presently entered with a limp, and, in answer to inquiries, said
his wounded leg was doing famously, adding that the bullet had taken
exactly the same course as the one did not six weeks ago--only then it
had affected the other knee; "so I knew how to treat it, and I am off to
the Yeomanry Hospital, if they will have me. I only left there a
fortnight ago, and, by Jove! it was like leaving Paradise!" Another
arrival came along saying the Boers had received a proper punishing for
their last depredations on the railway, when De Wet had brought off his
crowning _coup_ by destroying the mail-bags. But this gentleman had
hardly finished his tale when a decided stir was observable, and we
heard a wire was to hand saying the same De Wet was again on the move,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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