forces. Judging roughly, I calculated they numbered between 5,000 and
6,000, while we were 800 all told, and our artillery consisted merely
of two Nordenfeldt guns with shell, and no grape shot.

The British certainly meant business that day. It was the baptismal
fire of the Imperial Light Horse, a corps principally composed of
Johannesburgers, who were politically and racially our bitter enemies.
And what was more unfortunate, our guns were so much exposed that
they were soon silenced. For a long time we did our best to keep our
opponents at bay, but they came in crushing numbers, and speedily dead
and maimed burghers covered the veldt. Then the Gordon Highlanders and
the other infantry detachments commenced to storm our positions. We
got them well within the range of our rifle fire, and made our
presence felt; but they kept pushing on with splendid determination
and indomitable pluck, though their ranks were being decimated before
our very eyes.

This was the first, as it was the last time in the War that I heard a
British band playing to cheer attacking "Tommies." I believe it used
to be a British war custom to rouse martial instincts with lively
music, but something must have gone wrong with the works in this War,
there must have occurred a rift in the lute, for ever after this first
battle of Elandslaagte the British abandoned flags, banners, and bands
and other quite unnecessary furniture.

About half an hour before sunset, the enemy had come up close to our
positions and on all sides a terrible battle raged. To keep them back
was now completely out of the question. They had forced their way
between a kloof, and while rushing up with my men towards them, my
rifle was smashed by a bullet. A wounded burgher handed me his and I
joined Field-Cornet Peter Joubert who, with seven other burghers, was
defending the kloof. We poured a heavy fire into the British, but they
were not to be shaken off. Again and again they rushed up in
irresistible strength, gallantly encouraged by their brave officers.
Poor Field-Cornet Joubert perished at this point.

When the sun had set and the awful scene was enveloped in darkness
there was a dreadful spectacle of maimed Germans, Hollanders,
Frenchmen, Irishmen, Americans, and Boers lying on the veldt. The
groans of the wounded were heartrending; the dead could no longer
speak. Another charge, and the British, encouraged by their success,
had taken our last position, guns and all. My