DESPITE the tragedies war inflicts on humanity, the Boer War especially – described as the last ‘gentleman’s war’ – produced many great moments of mirth when the enemies offset the hardships with their antics.
The incidents are written up in a variety of history books and although proper research has to be undertaken to pen down the exact details such as locations and battles, the purpose here is to just to retell the stories. If any historians can fill in the facts or share some more humorous incidents with readers, email these to me at subeditor@zululandobserver.co.za.
The one interesting fact is that during lulls in fighting, sport was actively pursued. In one of Churchill’s writing reference is made to this. ‘In the afternoon the British held athletic sports, an impromptu military tournament, and a gymkhana, all of which caused much merriment and diversion, and the Boers profited by the cessation of the shell fire to shovel away at their trenches.’
There’s the well-known story of the Red Coats and Boers fighting furiously for control of a certain hill. On Christmas day, on a Sunday, the Boers smugly held the ‘high ground’ on top of the hill.
Everybody being Christian, the two opposing generals got together and agreed that no fighting would take place on the holy day.
The Brits used the welcome cessation of hostilities to fit in a game of cricket. The next minute they were placed under a brief spell of shell fire. Surprised, they sent across a man to enquire what the problem was since there had been an informal agreement. The Boers said sport on the Sabbath was strictly forbidden and they would continue firing if the Brits continued with their ungodly behaviour.
The British military in those days had a understated stoicism about them – in their demeanour and reports from the battlefields.
Casualties of war
A report from the Siege of Ladysmith, in typical stiff-upper-lip fashion, described the demise of one Lt Egerton.
A shell from the Boers landed in the midst of the defending British camp, ‘…striking poor Egerton in the legs. Surgeon Fowler was on the spot and did all that was possible – not much, for his wounds were terrible – and then the bluejackets (medics) tenderly picked him up and laid him in a ‘dhoolie’. His only remark was, ‘This will put a stop to my cricket, I’m afraid.’ He died the same evening.
The other casualty was a pig. Said the report, ‘The casualties in the Brigade, during this first organised attack on the part of the enemy, were one sucking pig, the barrel in which it reposed being struck by a 12-pounder shell, and the pig so seriously wounded that it had to be put out of its misery!’
During the siege, there was even time for merriment. The Prince of Wales’s birthday on 9 November was celebrated at noon when ‘the guns of the Naval Brigade thundered forth a royal salute of twenty-one shotted guns, the crash of the artillery being followed by three terrific cheers for His Royal Highness which were probably heard in the enemy’s camp. When the cheering was over the Prince’s health was drunk in champagne in the Naval Brigade’s mess tent.’
Sadly, this kind of gentlemanly approach to combat is no more.
