On Commando | Page 6

guns and bandoliers. But after a while we had had
enough of those false alarms, and they failed to make any impression
on us. The call of 'The English are coming! saddle, saddle!' became
proverbial.
When we did not keep such constant guard, we sat or lay listening of an
evening to a most discordant noise caused by the singing of psalms and
hymns at the same time at different farms. We sometimes joined in. As
a people we are not very musical.
The day-watch we liked best. Then we often got a chance of firing a
shot at a careless khaki on the Rooirandjes. To some of our young men
there was something very exciting in the idea that they were in constant
danger. Every now and again a bomb, too, would come flying over the
camp, and the whole commando would make for the rocks amid shouts
of laughter.
At that time we still felt rather down when there was a fight in prospect.
When, some time after our attack on the Rooirandjes, we went to the
west of Ladysmith to attack Platrand, we did not feel at all comfortable,
although we went voluntarily. It was a lovely ride in the dark at a flying
gallop, but when we found on our arrival at Platrand that the promised
number of men was not there, we rode away again quite satisfied that
we had not to attempt the attack. For had we not made up our minds not
to risk a repetition of the attack on Rooirandjes?
The blowing-up of the cannon at Ladysmith is one of the episodes of
the war that we look back upon with a feeling of shame. A few days
after a Long Tom had been blown up on Umbulwana Kop, east of
Ladysmith, I warned our Field-Cornet that the enemy were busy spying
in our neighbourhood at night. While on guard, we could distinctly hear
the flapping of the saddles and the neighing of the horses in front of us.
I foretold a repetition of what had happened on Umbulwana Kop. The
Field-Cornet promised that the guard would be doubled that night.
Towards morning those of us who were not on guard were waked out
of our sleep by a loud cry of 'Hurrah!' from the throats of a few hundred
Englishmen who were blowing up two cannon on a mountain to our
right, close to us. We sprang towards our positions, stumbling and
falling over stones, not knowing what was going on, and expecting the
khakies at any moment. It was the first time that we had heard a fight at

night, and it gave us a creepy feeling. We saw the flames of the guns
and from the exploding bullets, and heard the rattling of the shots and
the shouting, but we could not join in the fight, as we--eight of
us--were not allowed to leave our positions. Now and again a bullet fell
in our neighbourhood, and the Free State Artillery, who were on the
mountains to the right, fired some bombs at the enemy, nearly hitting
us in the dark.
When it got lighter we went to look at the dead and wounded, perhaps
from a feeling of bravado, perhaps to accustom ourselves to the sight.
The enemy had paid dearly for their brave deed. They know the number
of their dead and wounded better than we do, for they had opportunity
enough to carry them away. On our side only four were killed and a
few wounded. Niemeyer, Van Zyl and Villiers were among the killed.
Pott was severely wounded. Niemeyer had several bayonet wounds.
After that we were, of course, doubly careful. We have never been able
to discover who failed in their duty on guard. Cooper and Tossel were
suspected and accused. They were sent to Pretoria under arrest, but the
investigation never led to any result. We have every reason to believe
that our burghers were guilty of treachery more than once near
Ladysmith. Government ought from the start to have taken strict
measures against traitors and spies.
Some days after the blowing up of the cannon I sprained my left knee,
which I had already hurt before the war began. General Erasmus gave
me leave to go home for an unlimited time. On my way home I passed
my brother Willem without being aware of it. He had come from
Holland, where he was studying, to take part in the war.
What a meeting with relatives and friends! How much there was to tell!
Even then we had not experienced very much, and how much more will
our burghers have to tell their dear ones on returning from their exile in
strange countries! There will, alas! be much sorrow, too; for many of
our friends