country was irretrievably lost
to us. Therefore a period of discouragement and demoralization followed.
Many burghers, also, who had all along fought bravely now remained
behind in the towns or on their farms, not daring to leave their wives
and daughters at the mercy of the soldiers. We may not judge those men,
neither need we consider it to our credit that we, either from a sense
of duty or from a spirit of adventure, acted differently. There were
many also who argued that the Government was corrupt, and that the war
should have been prevented, or that the Boers did not want to fight. So
they also became unfaithful to the cause, and to those along with whom
they began the war. And the name of 'hands-upper' was earned by those
burghers who of their own free will surrendered to the enemy. The chaff
was divided from the grain; cowards and traitors remained behind, and
the willing ones went to the veld, even though it were in a retreating
direction. We were still very hopeful. There were still the good
positions in the Lydenberg district, and we had heard that De Wet had
cut the line of communication behind the enemy. We also still had an
intact line to Delagoa Bay.

My brother and I met our old comrade Frans Loitering, and the three of
us went in search of General Grobler of Waterberg, who lay with his
commando to the east of Pretoria at Franspoort, near Donkerhoek. There
we joined his commando. Our camp was put up near a Kaffir location, and
as the Kaffirs were clean, we often bought boiled sweet potatoes and
crushed maize from them.

Nothing particular happened at Franspoort. To the right and left of us
some desperate fighting went on for several days, and at Donkerhoek a
fierce battle took place, but we were not attacked.

When the news came that the enemy had broken through our lines at
Donkerhoek, and that we had to retreat, my brother and I left Grobler's
commando. Thinking that the commandos would fall back upon the positions
of Belfast, we went to Middelburg to an uncle of ours, the missionary
Jan Mare, in order to give our horses a rest. We had lost sight of our
comrade Frans. On our way we bought bread at the farms, or had it given
us, cut a piece off an ox that had been slaughtered for the commando,
and slept either in a manger or, as was more often the case, in the open
air of the cold Hoogeveld. We arrived at Middelburg completely
exhausted, and are not likely to forget our uncle's great hospitality.

W