On the Heels of De Wet | Page 6

heavy weather, had pressed him with the
perseverance of a sleuth-hound in the direction of the De Aar-Orange
River Railway into the arms of two columns in the vicinity of
Hautkraal. A week previous to this, as soon as it was known that De
Wet had evaded the force intended to head him back when moving
south down the Orange River Colony, the railway had been taxed to its
utmost to concentrate troops on the Naauwpoort-De Aar-Beaufort West
line. Day and night troop-trains, bulging with khaki and bristling with
rifles, had vomited columns, detachments, and units at various points
upon this line--Colesberg, Hanover Road, De Aar, Richmond Road,
Victoria West, and Beaufort. Lord Kitchener himself, at a pace which
had wellnigh bleached the driver's hair, had hied down to De Aar in his
armoured train. Plumer had diverted the invasion west, Crabbe and

Henniker and the armoured trains had kicked it over the railway-line.
Kitchener was content. If De Wet followed his jackal Hertzog into the
south-western areas, the columns on the line from De Aar downwards
were to move west as parallel forces and tackle the invader in turn.
Each would run him till exhausted, with a fresh parallel to take up the
running from them as soon as they were done; while at the end, when
the last parallel was played out, De Lisle as a stop stood at Carnarvon,
ready to catch the ripe plum after the tree had been well shaken.
Admirable plan--on paper. Admirable plan if De Wet had only done
what he ought to have done--if he had only allowed himself to be
kicked by each parallel in turn, churned by relays of pom-poms, until
ready to be presented to De Lisle. But De Wet did not do the right thing.
He was no cub to trust to winning an earth by a direct and obvious line,
where pace alone would have killed him. He was an old grey fox,
suspicious even of his own shadow, and he doubled and twisted: in the
meanwhile Plumer ran himself "stone-cold" on his heels, and the
majority of the parallel columns, played by his screen of "red herrings,"
countermarched themselves to a standstill. The old, old story, which
needs no expansion here. Admirable plan, if only the British columns
had been as complete at their rendezvous as they appeared on paper.
We were the New Cavalry Brigade--the 21st King's Dragoon Guards
and the 20th Dragoon Guards, just out from home; the Mount Nelson
Light Horse, newly raised in Cape Town; a battery of R.H.A., and a
pom-pom. But where were we. We were due to march out of Richmond
Road at daybreak on the morrow. Two squadrons of the 21st King's
Dragoons and one of the Mount Nelson's were with
Plumer--Providence only knows where--learning the law of the veldt.
The rest of the Mount Nelson's and one squadron of the 21st King's
Dragoons were at Hanover Road. One squadron of the 20th Dragoon
Guards was at Richmond Road; two squadrons were in the train on the
way up from Cape Town. The guns at least had arrived. Yet we were
about the value of a "castle" on the chess-board designed to mate De
Wet.
* * * * *
"Now we shall have to take our coats off."

The brigadier was right. It was no mean affair to arrive at sundown at a
miserable siding in the Karoo, called by courtesy a station, to find its
two parallels of rails blocked with the trucks containing the nucleus of
a cavalry brigade, and to get that nucleus on the road by daybreak. The
supply column was all out, the battery half out--these were old soldiers;
but the two squadrons of 20th Dragoon Guards had not yet awakened to
the situation. The brigadier looked up and down the platform, gazed a
moment at the long tiers of laden trucks, and then made the above
remark.
And we had to take our coats off. The 20th were new but they were
willing; and it is difficult to say which hampers you most, an
over-willing novice or an unwilling expert. You who sit at home and
rail at the conduct of the campaign, rail at the wretched officer,
regimental or staff, little know what is expected of him. You have your
type in your mind's eye--an eyeglass, spotless habiliments, and a
waving sword; you pay him and expect him to succeed. Your one
argument is unanswerable. You place the greatest man that you can
select to guide and cherish him, therefore if he does not succeed it must
be through his own shortcomings. In your impatience you opine that he
has not succeeded. Therefore he must be ignorant, indifferent, and
incompetent. Little do you realise the injustice of your opinion. You
sweat, during