So Close Were The
Skirmishers That On At Least One Occasion Boer And Briton Found
Themselves On Each Side Of The Same Rock.
Once a handful of men,
tormented beyond endurance, sprang up as a sign that they had had
enough, but Thorneycroft, a man of huge physique, rushed forward to
the advancing Boers.
'You may go to hell!' he yelled. 'I command
here, and allow no surrender. Go on with your firing.' Nothing
could exceed the gallantry of Louis Botha's men in pushing the
attack. Again and again they made their way up to the British
firing line, exposing themselves with a recklessness which, with
the exception of the grand attack upon Ladysmith, was unique in our
experience of them. About two o'clock they rushed one trench
occupied by the Fusiliers and secured the survivors of two
companies as prisoners, but were subsequently driven out again. A
detached group of the South Lancashires was summoned to surrender.
'When I surrender,' cried Colour-Sergeant Nolan, 'it will be my
dead body!' Hour after hour of the unintermitting crash of the
shells among the rocks and of the groans and screams of men torn
and burst by the most horrible of all wounds had shaken the troops
badly. Spectators from below who saw the shells pitching at the
rate of seven a minute on to the crowded plateau marvelled at the
endurance which held the devoted men to their post. Men were
wounded and wounded and wounded yet again, and still went on
fighting.
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