The National tribune., 1899-11-30
A BATTLE in THE RAIN.
Strange Conflict at Elandslaagte Between
British and Beers.

The following is the thrilling accoun
| which &. W. Stevens, the war correspond
ent, gives of the strange battle of Glands
laagte, which did not begin until nearly
| D o'clock in the afternoon.
Our guns" he said, moved to posi-
ton toward the right of the Boer guns
which opened fire, but the German gun.
| nerS knew their business, and their third
or fourth shell pitched into a wagon with
a team of eight horses. 1t was full of
shells. We held our breath for an explos-
| ion, but when the smoke cleared away only
the near wheeler was on his side and the
| wagon was still whole. Our batteries bayed
again, and the Boer guns were silent. The
attack was to be made on their front and
| left flank.
"The Devon Regiment formed for the
| front attack, with the MancheSterS on the
right, while the Gordon Highlanders edged
to the extreme right, with the long bowlder-
flecked hill above them. The guns flung
snrapnel across the valley while tie cav
airy were in leash, straining toward the
enemys fanks.
1T was about 4:45, and it seemed curl
ously dark. No wonder, for as the men
moved forward before them the heavens
opened From the eastern skies swept
sheet Of rain. With the first stabbing
drops the horses turned their heads, and
no whip or spur could bring them up to it.
1t drove through the mackintoshes as if
they were made of blotting paper. The
air was filled with the kissing. Under
foot you could see the solid earth melting
into mud, and the mud flowing away in
water. 1t blotted out hill, dale, and the
enemy in one gray curtain of falling rain.
You would have said the heavens had
opened to drown the wrath of man, and
through it the guns still thundered and
the khaki columns pushed doggedly on.
The infantry came among the powders
and began to open out. The supports and
Ill
on the face of the Stone-piled hill, burst
loose that other storm-the storm of lead,
blood, and death. In the first line down
behind the rocks they were firing fast. and
the bullets came flickering around them.
Men stopped and started, staggered and
dropped Imply, as II the string 1 had been
cut that held them upright. The line
pushed on. A Colonel fell, shot in the
arm. His regiment pushed on. They
came to a rocky ridge 30 feet high. They
clung to cover, firing, then rose, and were
among the shrill bullets again. a Major
was left at the bottom ridge with his pipe in
his mouth and Mauser bullet through his
leg. His company pushed on. Down
again, fire again, up again, and on.
Another ridge won and passed, and
only a more helish hail Of bullets beyond.
More men were down, but more men pushed
into the. firing line; More death-piping
bullets than ever The air was sieve OF
them. They beat on the powders like
million hammers. They tore the turf
like a harrow.
Another rilge crowned and another vel
coming whistling gust of perdition More
| men went down in, but more were pushed
| into, the firing line. Half of the officers
| were down. The men putfed and STUN bled
on another ridge-God! would this cursed
Hill ever end?
1T was Sown with bleeding and dead
behind, edged with singing fire before.
And now it was surely the end. The merry
bugleS rang like cock crow on a fine
morning to fix bayonets. The staff officers
rushed shouting from the rear, imploring.
ajoling, curSing, shaming every man who
could move into the line-but it was a
line 10 longer. 1t was a surging wave
of men.
"The Devons, Gordons. Manchesters,
and Light Horse We're all mixed. Sub
alterns We're commanding regiments; sol
diers We're yelling advice to their officers.
firing their carbineS, stumbling, leaping,
killing, falling-all drunk with battle
Showing through hell to the throats of the
enemy, and there, beneath our feet. was the
Boer camp and the last Beers golloping
out of it. There, also. thank heaven, Were
the squadrons of the Lancers and the Dra-
goon Guards, storming in among them,
shouting, spearing, and stamping them
into the ground.
"Cease fire.! 1t was over Twelve
hours of march, of reconnaissance. of wait
ing, and of preparation, and half an hour
of attack-but half an hour crammed with
life of half lifetime"