My Reminiscences of the Anglo-Boer War

Johannis Viljoen Ben

Description

General Ben Viljoen, while engaged on this work, requested me to write a short introduction to it. This request I gladly comply with.

Sujets

• Histoire
• Republic of South Africa
• South Africa
• History of Africa
• Afrique du Sud

Informations

• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 23 octobre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782819904007
• Langue: English

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PREFACE.
General Ben Viljoen, while engaged on this work,requested me to write a short introduction to it. This request Igladly comply with.
General Viljoen was a prisoner-of-war at BroadbottomCamp, St. Helena, where, after two years' service in South Africa,I was stationed with my regiment. It was at the General's furtherrequest that I conveyed this work to Europe for publication.
The qualities which particularly endeared this braveand justly-famous Boer officer to us were his straightforwardnessand unostentatious manner, his truthfulness, and the utter absenceof affectation that distinguishes him. I am certain that he haswritten his simple narrative with candour and impartiality, and Ifeel equally certain, from what I know of him, that this mostpopular of our late opponents has reviewed the exciting episodes ofthe War with an honesty, an intelligence, and a humour which manyprevious publications on the War have lacked.
During his stay at St. Helena I became deeplyattached to General Viljoen; and in conclusion I trust that thiswork, which entailed many hours of labour, will yield him ahandsome recompense. THEODORE BRINCKMAN, C.B. ColonelCommanding , 3rd, The Buffs (East Kent Regt.) Tarbert,Loch Fyne, Scotland. September, 1902
THE AUTHOR TO THE READER.
In offering my readers my reminiscences of the lateWar, I feel that it is necessary to ask their indulgence and toplead extenuating circumstances for many obvious shortcomings.
It should be pointed out that the preparation ofthis work was attended with many difficulties and disabilities, ofwhich the following were only a few: – (1) This is my first attemptat writing a book, and as a simple Afrikander I lay no claim to anyliterary ability. (2) When captured by the British forces I wasdeprived of all my notes, and have been compelled to consult anddepend largely upon my memory for my facts and data. I would wishto add, however, that the notes and minutiæ they took from mereferred only to events and incidents covering six months of theWar. Twice before my capture, various diaries I had compiled fellinto British hands; and on a third occasion, when our camp atDalmanutha was burned out by a "grass-fire," other notes weredestroyed. (3) I wrote this book while a prisoner-of-war, fettered,as it were, by the strong chains with which a British "parole" iscircumscribed. I was, so to say, bound hand and foot, and alwaysmade to feel sensibly the humiliating position to which we, asprisoners-of-war on this island, were reduced. Our unhappy lot wasrendered unnecessarily unpleasant by the insulting treatmentoffered us by Colonel Price, who appeared to me an excellentprototype of Napoleon's custodian, Sir Hudson Lowe. One has only toread Lord Rosebery's work, "The Last Phase of Napoleon," to realisethe insults and indignities Sir Hudson Lowe heaped upon a gallantenemy.
We Boers experienced similar treatment from ourcustodian, Colonel Price, who appeared to be possessed with thevery demon of distrust and who conjured up about us the samefantastic and mythical plans of escape as Sir Hudson Loweattributed to Napoleon. It is to his absurd suspicions about oursafe custody that I trace the bitterly offensive regulationsenforced on us.
While engaged upon this work, Colonel Price couldhave pounced down upon me at any moment, and, having discovered themanuscript, would certainly have promptly pronounced the writing ofit in conflict with the terms of my "parole."
I have striven as far as possible to refrain fromcriticism, except when compelled to do so, and to give a coherentstory, so that the reader may easily follow the episodes I havesketched. I have also endeavoured to be impartial, or, at least, soimpartial as an erring human being can be who has just quitted thebloody battlefields of a bitter struggle.
But the sword is still wet, and the wound is not yethealed.
I would assure my readers that it has not beenwithout hesitation that I launch this work upon the world. Therehave been many amateur and professional writers who have precededme in overloading the reading public with what purport to be "truehistories" of the War. But having been approached by friends to addmy little effort to the ponderous tomes of War literature, I havewritten down that which I saw with my own eyes, and that which Ipersonally experienced. If seeing is believing, the reader may lendcredence to my recital of every incident I have hereinrecounted.
During the last stages of the struggle, when we wereisolated from the outside world, we read in newspapers and otherprinted matter captured from the British so many romantic andfabulous stories about ourselves, that we were sometimes in doubtwhether people in Europe and elsewhere would really believe that wewere ordinary human beings and not legendary monsters. On theseoccasions I read circumstantial reports of my death, and once along, and by no means flattering, obituary (extending over severalcolumns of a newspaper) in which I was compared to Garibaldi, "Jackthe Ripper," and Aguinaldo. On another occasion I learned fromBritish newspapers of my capture, conviction, and execution in theCape Colony for wearing the insignia of the Red Cross. I read thatI had been brought before a military court at De Aar and sentencedto be shot, and what was worse, the sentence was duly confirmed andcarried out. A very lurid picture was drawn of the execution. Boundto a chair, and placed near my open grave, I had met my doom with"rare stoicism and fortitude." "At last," concluded my amiablebiographer, "this scoundrel, robber, and guerilla leader, Viljoen,has been safely removed, and will trouble the British Army nolonger." I also learned with mingled feelings of amazement andpride that, being imprisoned at Mafeking at the commencement ofhostilities, General Baden-Powell had kindly exchanged me for LadySarah Wilson.
To be honest, none of the above-mentioned reportswere strictly accurate. I can assure the reader that I was neverkilled in action or executed at De Aar, I was never in Mafeking orany other prison in my life (save here at St. Helena), nor was I inthe Cape Colony during the War. I never masqueraded with a RedCross, and I was never exchanged for Lady Sarah Wilson. Herladyship's friends would have found me a very poor exchange.
It is also quite inaccurate and unfair to describeme as a "thief" and "a scoundrel". It was, indeed, not an heroicthing to do, seeing that the chivalrous gentlemen of the SouthAfrican Press who employed the epithets were safely beyond my viewand reach, and I had no chance of correcting their quite erroneousimpressions. I could neither refute nor defend myself against theirinfamous libels, and for the rest, my friend "Mr. Atkins" kept usall exceedingly busy.
That which is left of Ben Viljoen after the several"coups de grace" in the field and the tragic execution at De Aar,still "pans" out at a fairly robust young person – quite anordinary young fellow, indeed, thirty-four years of age, of middleheight and build. Somewhere in the Marais Quartier of Paris – wherethe French Huguenots came from – there was an ancestral Viljoenfrom whom I am descended. In the War just concluded I played nogreat part of my own seeking. I met many compatriots who werebetter soldiers than myself; but on occasions I was happily of somesmall service to my Cause and to my people.
The chapters I append are, like myself, simple inform. If I have become notorious it is not my fault; it is thefault of the newspaper paragraphist, the snap-shooter, and theautograph fiend; and in these pages I have endeavoured, as far aspossible, to leave the stage to more prominent actors, merelyoffering myself as guide to the many battlefields on which we havewaged our unhappy struggle.
I shall not disappoint the reader by promising himsensational or thrilling episodes. He will find none such in thesepages; he will find only a naked and unembellished story. BEN J.VILJOEN. ( Assistant Commandant-General
of the Republican Forces.) St. Helena, June, 1902 [Illustration: 8 Maps of Nicholsons Nek & Modderspruit,Monte Christo, Colenso, Spioen Kop, Vaalkrantz, Pieter's Hill,Stromberg and Abramskraal.]
MY REMINISCENCES
OF THE
ANGLO-BOER WAR
CHAPTER I.
THE WAR CLOUDS GATHER.
In 1895 the political clouds gathered thickly andgrew threatening. They were unmistakable in their portent. War wasmeant, and we heard the martial thunder rumbling over ourheads.
The storm broke in the shape of an invasion fromRhodesia on our Western frontiers, a raid planned by soldiers of afriendly power.
However one may endeavour to argue the chief causeof the South African war to other issues, it remains anirrebuttable fact that the Jameson Raid was primarily responsiblefor the hostilities which eventually took place between GreatBritain and the Boer Republics.
Mr. Rhodes, the sponsor and deus ex machinâ of the Raid, could not agree with Mr. Paul Kruger, and had failedin his efforts to establish friendly relations with him. Mr.Kruger, quite as stubborn and ambitious as Mr. Rhodes, placed nofaith in the latter's amiable proposals, and the result was thatfierce hatred was engendered between the two Gideons, a racialrancour spreading to fanatical lengths.
Dr. Jameson's stupid raid is now a matter ofhistory; but from that fateful New Year's Day of 1896 we Boers datethe terrible trials and sufferings to which our poor country hasbeen exposed. To that mischievous incident, indeed, we directlytrace the struggle now terminated.
This invasion, which was synchronous with an armedrebellion at Johannesburg, was followed by the arrest andimprisonment of the so-called gold magnates of the Witwatersrand.Whether these exceedingly wealthy but extremely degenerate sons ofAlbion and Germania deserved the death sentence pronounced upontheir leaders at Pretoria for high treason it is not for me tojudge.
I do recall, however, what an appeal for mercy therewent up, how piteously the Transvaal Government w