We were now in what is called the bushveldt—_i.e._, country covered with low scrubby bushes. These bushes form excellent screens for the enemy, and scouting, therefore, is ticklish work. ‘You dunno where you are,’ as they say. Water was a scarce article, too—in fact, it was about the driest country we had been in so far. Passing a place called Stinkwater, we reached Swartzkop late in the evening, and camped there for the night near a large settlement of the Barotse tribe. The Germans have a mission in these parts; their church is only a large mud hut, but the missionary in charge has a following of no fewer than 2,000. We were told that night that General Ian Hamilton was going with his Staff to Haaman’s Kraal, a railway station about fifteen miles east, coming back the same evening, and that Lumsden’s Horse were to act as his escort. This promised a nice break in the monotony of the everlasting march, march, march we had been having lately, so those of us who had fit horses were much elated, the unfortunate ones, who had not, being correspondingly downcast. As arranged, we started for Haaman’s Kraal at daybreak next day, and our advance scouts had got quite six miles out when we were ordered to turn back and return to camp. Trooper Philip Stanley writes of an incident that occurred at a farm near the German mission, and which may help to explain how some of the wonderful yarns we so often heard about De Wet’s capture commenced.
_Photo: Bourne & Shepherd_ PHILIP STANLEY ]
We were catching the fowls in the houses round the church, and one particular black-and-white cock evaded all our endeavours. So somebody called him De Wet, and presently yelled out, as the poor cock was hurt by a stick or stone, ‘_De Wet’s captured at last_.’ Curiously enough, just at that moment a mounted man, a Hussar I think, was riding close past us on the road and heard the shout ‘De Wet’s captured at last,’ and I think must have spread the report, as when we got into camp, four miles on, about an hour and a half afterwards, we were at once told De Wet was captured at last, and I think they might that evening have added, ‘and eaten.’ Fresh instructions had evidently come from headquarters, and General Ian Hamilton was not going to Haaman’s Kraal after all. When we got back to our place we found the division moving off in a northerly direction, and so, after a few minutes’ halt to water our horses, we had to follow on as quickly as possible to regain our place in the column—_i.e._, on the flank of the guns. It was a very hot and dirty march, and towards the afternoon our position was changed to rearguard, which meant that we had to wait behind till all the stragglers and the whole of the Transport got into camp. In consequence we did not get in till 8.30 that night, and even then our troubles were not ended, as several of us were immediately ordered out on outlying picket. The different corps take it in turn to do rearguard as a rule, and, needless to say, it is not a popular duty at all. Generally the rearguard gets off supplying outlying pickets, but when short-handed, or when there are more posts than usual, they too have to bear their share of the burden.