TOPIC:

It is a bit early to be awarding post of the year but..............

Amazing research and presentation.

For me the clincher is the shape of the 5 - very unusual with the bottom curl going so far to the left.

The skill and precision in transposing the figures onto the photograph leaves me speechless - well almost.

Thank you Neville.

Neville,

What a hugely fascinating thread and a story 25 years in the making. Without your research, they could so easily have been lost.

Many thanks
David

I like Smethwick's idea too. We will do that this year.

Hello Neville

Martinus Middelberg, son of Gerrit Middelberg, Director of NZASM, was in charge of the Nelthorpe - Pieters Station line.

A detailed article written in Dutch was published in 1985 concerning his role in the Anglo Boer War.

www.dbnl.org/tekst/_ned017198501_01/_ned017198501_01.pdf

Included in the write-up is a photo of No.15 and the bridge



I have used Google to translate the text with regard to his letters, but it will full of grammatical errors etc as I have not had the time to go through it; however, it paints the very detailed picture.

Martinus Middelberg ended up in America later on and an additional article was written by the same author in connection with his time there.

gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc2...1985-v63-n01_a01.pdf

Included in the write-up is a photo of his father and Martinus aka Martin Middelberg



Below is his letters from the first article - there are maps and a drawing of a train by Martinus Middelberg in the article but I have not included it here.

Regards

A railway engineer under fire
Letters from ir. M. Middelberg from the Boer War 1899-1900
published by AJ Veenendaal Jr.

The manuscript of the following letters is located in the General State Archives in The Hague, Middelberg Collection no. 12D. The first letter, December 29, 1899-January 5, 1900, covers 8 pages, written in pencil, but clearly legible. The second letter, dated March 8, 1900, was written in ink after his return to Waterval-Boven a few months before his departure for Europe. This letter covers 25 pages, including three sketch cards and one drawing.

Letters
Main bearing at Ladysmith, Carolina Command, December 29, 1899

Dear people,

It finally happened and after long consideration and consultation, I was sworn in as a full citizen of Transvaal and took up arms to go to war. It would of course have been easier for me to classify myself as so many other bland ZASM people among the 'indispensables', but I, like 75% of the other ZASMites, could very well be missed and so I went into primary school; With a small part of the war misery behind me, I do not regret my decision. It is perhaps the first step on a new path in life and 'aux grands maux les grands remèdes'. Dolly, the big one, of course agrees. Those were a few unforgettable days of hard fighting when my departure was decided and the command box had to be packed. Dolly behaved beautifully, did not cry, her little pale face did not wince, even when the farewell came and the train took me away, perhaps forever. A woman like a flag!

A three-day journey took us directly to Ladysmith, which we are now a week ahead of and which still shows no sign of surrendering. Our base, which is located to the north-east of the village, is about 1,100 strong, consisting of Sijdenburgers, Ermelo and Carolina people and Johannesburgers. Joubert himself is in our camp, we have no shortage of tents. Along the way we took a beautiful ZASM tent with us, which we quickly commandeered and the four of us now live in it. We each have a kaffir, are well supplied by the government and have little to do during the day. Neither do my three tent mates at night, but I, who ride horses, have been conscripted into the 'fire guards' alias 'night outposts' and will now have to lie in the field every other night.

Yet going on fire watch is the attractive side of the siege. My first experience in this was massive: a dark night, hours of rain that soaked us, even though we huddled in our plaids. A few alarms, gunshots left and right, which of course turned out to be without effect the next day. Everything else was quiet; We lay outside shivering, longing for the sun that wouldn't come. Then, at first twilight, on horseback, moving backwards with great speed so as not to get a bomb following us. We had just left when the Lombaardskop cannon boomed, immediately answered by the guns at Ladysmith. The unflappable good mood of the Boertjes is encouraging at such things; always jokes and goofiness. Some unfortunate boy who got scared for a moment is the target the mockeries.
He is accused of 'reckless fear'. Commands do not exist; Of a fire watch of 10 men, two are on duty, the rest are sleeping. A waiting list is not created; In the middle of the night I feel a hand on my shoulder and someone says that with my 'mate' I now 'have to be careful with those red ones'. After an hour I wake up another person in the same way, who just as willingly lies down in the rain without complaining and watches. And that system works excellently. At the slightest disturbance, everything is awake and ready to fight or flee. Perhaps the great strength of the Boers lies in the latter, that they are extremely careful and know when to fight, but also when to flee. 'Immortal death rides' and such things do not happen, but if the opportunity is good, they take it.

On the whole, camp life is still bearable; it is mainly dirty, otherwise very warm and in the last days also wet, but the absolute equality and the equal pressure of misery on everyone keeps us in a good mood.

You will be fully aware of Commander Botha's glorious victory at Colenso. The battle was in fact a tremendous massacre on our part and eyewitnesses told me that while the figure of 5,070 Englishmen put out of action may be too large, there are certainly 3,000. And on the other hand, 7 dead Boers and 23 wounded. Also fabulous is the story of the taking of those 10 beautiful cannons; lying calmly while the guns fire over the heads; do not return a shot until the English think the position is deserted, advance, harness their horses. Then suddenly at 60 steps a tremendous gunfire from ours, horses and people were all killed and the pieces were dragged away with ammunition wagons. Almost unbelievable. The captured battery chief, Colonel Hunt, arrived in Pretoria crazy. Too bad we hear absolutely nothing about the mood in England these days. All newspapers seem to be stopped.

January 4 [ 1900 ].

That's as far as I was, and the letter remained for a week, during which time a lot happened again. To put it briefly, I am no longer on command: on December 30 in the evening, a telegram from the ZASM came like a bomb from the sky that my services were needed and I had to report to Stipriaan in Newcastle. Honestly, I was happy about it; a little bit of justified anger had already come over me that my services were so shamefully appreciated and that I could be missed. I have now had the experience of fighting with the Boers, have been on fire watch, suffered cold and misery, and been through a bit of war. So in good spirits I traveled to Newcastle on New Year's Day, reported to Stip and learned that I had to go to Pieters, the first station south of Ladysmith, to operate the Nelthorpe-Tugela line, which was just a piece of cake for me. As you know, two 19-ton machines were brought around Ladysmith with great difficulty, assembled and with Natalwagens we drive from Pieters to the Tugela, to the middle of the Boerenlagers near Colenso.

If I pull it off correctly it will be one of the events of my life. To the south, far away, the guns of Colenso thunder, to the north those of Ladysmith. Let me say for the sake of reassurance that we are completely out of harm's way here and that we are all confident that the English will not break through at Colenso. Our positions there are beautiful, I would say impregnable, and it is generally doubted that the English will break out of Ladysmith, and if they do, probably not to this side, where the terrain is very unfavourable for them. My three stationmasters, assistant and conductor are full of courage and cheerfulness; the staff of the two locos, all Afrikaners, were of course always in the best of moods and if it weren't so damn hard to have a little woman home alone, my mood would be perfect. Our transport is not busy; Yesterday we drove according to timetable for the first time, but unfortunately, it started raining heavily last night, the Klip River closed; the expected coal could not be spent by ox cart; Due to the removal of a sprout, a wooden pillar beneath a blown-up bridge, which connected us to the water tanks for the machines, also collapsed. No coal, no water, the service stopped and so we just sit and wait. Fortunately there is little to do and transport is limited.

What I saw from our positions at Colenso gives a lot of hope. A mountainous country, high peaks and deep valleys, all the best points occupied by our own. The famous hill on the other side of the Tugela is connected to us by a foot bridge. There are 1,500 men there, enough to hold that impregnable position. Everywhere between and behind the heads our Boerenlagers. Our positions are many hours long and I only saw a small part of it. In the middle of the bearings is the telegraph office from where I was able to send a greeting to Dolly yesterday. Everything is calm and peaceful and, to me, well managed and organized. Since there was nothing to do this morning, I went with my boss and responsible engineer by trolley as close as possible to Ladysmith. From there we climbed a head and had a beautiful view of the besieged city and the neutral camp, which lay almost at our feet and in which we could clearly see the people walking with the naked eye. It was beautiful.

Another strange encounter this morning: while strolling around the station, I was approached by an elderly gentleman, with a handsome, sharp face. We start talking, after a while I mention my name. Great surprise: then I am a fellow student of your father, Roeters van Lennep. Tableau! He was at the ambulance, had Elandslaagte experienced, had been with the wounded prisoners in Cape Town, sent back to Johannesburg and now back in the field. We talked long and pleasantly about Mustache and Beno and Cousin. What a crazy world. Imagine if it had been the other way around and our father had talked in the African desert in a dirty shirt and trousers with the son of an old clubmate in a no less dirty shirt and trousers. Mother Jorissen, who now has 4 sons in the field, is staying with the good Dolly and the 2 women comfort each other. I have promised Dolly that I will be very careful and I fully intend to keep that promise and not rush into danger unnecessarily.

January 5 [ 1900 ].

The coal still did not arrive, so I went to Colenso and visited General Louis Botha, with whom I had some business to discuss. A clear, intelligent head, with sharp eyes. Afterwards I could not resist the temptation to go to our outposts near the blown up Tugela Bridge, completely destroyed, the 5 tensions exploded in the river. On this side the Krugersdorpers lay in long trenches, with binoculars watching for clumps of English who were wandering across the plain out of shot. Just opposite us was the place where 'God struck the English blind' and we took their 10 guns. It was unforgettable, interesting, grand and beautiful. Hello dear people

Your MM

Waterval Boven, March 8, 1900

Dear people,

This letter is intended as a letter to family and perhaps a few close friends who may be interested in it. I will try to give a description of the most adventurous and difficult 14 days that I lived through, I will try to give you all an accurate idea of the great events that I experienced.

My last letter was, I believe, from the end of January. I think I wrote you something about the glorious days of Spioenkop and how we had the privilege of seeing and speaking to General Botha after the battle. A few days later I left for Newcastle and Stipriaan gave me a few days' leave to Pretoria without asking. That was a joy to me; We spent a few wonderful days at home with the old Jorissen and the farewell was difficult, but coming home was a reward for all the misery we had endured. Excitedly, I left for the front again in mid-February. Dolly took me to the train, brave as ever, and I disappeared into the night again.

During my absence Buller had his third attempt to relieve Ladysmith was made at Pontdrift, between Colenso and Spioenkop, and that third attempt also failed. Now he would concentrate all his forces on Colenso himself and launch the 4th attack, which, as you now know, was completely successful. On Saturday, February 17, I arrived in Pieters in the morning with our muzzle cart and found Edward Jorissen there. surveying with his tent near the station. The cannon roared continuously on Colenso's side. Buller's 4th attack had begun. So far our people had held out and the prospects did not seem bad. The sketch below indicates the positions for a good eye. On February 17 we held 'Mount Christo' and 'Boschkop', both on the English side of the Tugela, with the plain in between. In ditches (15) and against the edge (7) the Middelburgers and the Bethalmen were still lying there and held out against the cannon fire that was continuously maintained on them by the English from positions (3). But Sunday February 18 would change that; Early in the morning, when the cannon fire was again heavy, 4 of us decided to go forward to take stock of the battle. We then left with the trolley over the railway to Tugela station and from there we went on foot over the foot bridge (16) and over the road to Boschkop, where we finally arrived at point (2) on top of the head and now entered the battle. had all his terrible grandeur before us. The tremendous cannon fire was directed against the slope (1) of Mount Christo and the ditches (15) and (7). The green mountainside was surrounded by a ring of small white clouds due to the constantly bursting shell fragments in the air. Above our heads the Lyddite bombs whistled, mainly aimed at the edge (7) and the farm (5). The brown-yellow smoke mass thrown up by the bursting lyddite bombs flew up like small volcanoes in various places on the plain. And between the cannon fire there was the distant crackling of the Mausers on the mountainside (1), where the English were storming, but not visible to us because of the wooded terrain. And over all that the glorious African sun, beating down on all those squirming people who were destroying each other.

Around 12 o'clock we decide to go back; At that moment we didn't know that our chances were starting to look dire, but the further we got, the uglier things started to look. Farmers on horseback rode behind us, having ridden away from the fight: 'that Englishwoman skis like crazy'. A large crowd had already gathered at the foot bridge over the Tugela and at 3 o'clock, after we had taken a bath in the river, a long line of horse riders was already crossing the bridge. An hour later the guns and caissons came across the river. It started to look dirty; not panic, but a retreat, a surrender of the key to our Colenso position. General Botha himself is unable to turn his people. At 5 o'clock the guns positioned on this side of the Tugela already start firing on the edge of the forest, a last desperate attempt to save what can be saved. At point (18) near the railway is Captain Pretorius with 2 French pieces and our train is still at Tugela station! What to do? I go to Pretorius, who is sitting on the ground between his pieces and using the binoculars to check the effect of his shots. A nice 28 year old guy, son of old Henning. I sit next to him. 'Captain, that train is still at the bottom at Tugelastatie, we have a group of injured people who have to go to that hospital, when can we get a chance to move on, or will we have to wait until dark?' 'No, just drive, we will pass before you'. I look at him for a moment, then glance at the railway, which is just lower than the guns, which shoot at a large angle of elevation towards the top of Mount Christo. It will just happen for a little while. So we go back to our train, the two locomotives do what they can, first slowly, then at full speed they go up the slope and so we whiz under the guns and bring the last train safely to Pieters, where we take our wounded. deliver.

Thus Mount Christo was in the hands of the English and ours still held the Boschkop and the plain to the west of it. Night came and with it came silence and relief after the sultry day. The first hours of February 19th also passed quietly. We rode with the trolley to the Tugela, where the government telegraph was already picking up a message to the rear to take a safer position. However, I did not think it advisable to let the train run again, but decided to go to Tugela with the separate loco at 10 o'clock, but it would not come to that. The English had not been idle during the night. They had placed a naval gun at point (4) and field artillery had been towed to Mount Christo and put into battery at (6). I estimate the distance from (4) to Pieters at about 9 miles. There, around 10 o'clock, the cannonade suddenly began. The staff climbed into a wagon at the station and with binoculars we watched the English guns, which we could clearly see flashing at (4). Suddenly we discover that the fire is aimed at us: the Lyddite bombs, which first burst on the plain on the other side of the river, were coming closer and closer. Bombs have already fallen on 1000 steps, on 500 steps, and finally a bomb bursts with a tremendous bang 40 steps away. That was crazy: to remain standing with a train on an open space, where absolutely no use can be made, is nonsense. So everyone quickly picked up what we needed, put it on the train, and we drove back to Nelthorpe to await the things that were to come. The cannon fire became more and more intense over our entire position. I decided to send some of the staff, who were redundant, to Modderspruit and waited with the engine staff and a station master to see what would happen. At dark we drove back to Pieters and Tugela to bring bread to ours, which was urgently needed. We had held our positions everywhere that day and the hope that things would still go well had come over us all. We spent the night again in Pieters; By morning we packed all our belongings on the train and when at 8 o'clock the same game of the previous day started again, I sent staff and equipment back to Nelthorpe. As soon as the train was gone, the cannon fire focused on other points and on Steinmetz, who was visiting the front, I walked forward. Fortunately, a few bombs that burst close to us did not hit us and a shrapnel that exploded over our heads was good enough to spare us. Fortunately we reached the abandoned government telegraph office and heard the bad news that the unfortunate Lukas Meijer was in a court-martial had been appointed commander-in-chief and that at 2 o'clock at night the order had been given to abandon all our positions on the other side of the Tugela. The footbridge had already been set on fire and was still smoldering; the rafts had sunk. Things looked bad: the leadership seemed to no longer exist and a crowd of Boers simply packed and packed home. The Belgian ambulance, which had been standing just behind the telegraph office, had fled headlong; There her tents and beautiful medicine chests still stood sadly abandoned and I rescued a beautiful bathtub, which would otherwise have fallen into the hands of the English and which I could certainly use. Also from the telegraph channel we also took an abandoned device with us. We lugged everything to Tugela station to remove it during the night if possible.
The plan of war was to occupy heads 9, 10, 11, 12 and 13, all on our side of the river, but that day things looked bad and it seemed as if flight fever would come over everyone. Sad we went back to Pieters and after I had signaled to Nelthorpe to send a loco to come and get us, we left there at 2 o'clock. Once there, I received a request from the commissariat to take the train to the Tugela after dark to try to deliver bread to the lagers. There was no other way, so we decided to give it a try. At 2 o'clock at night the bread was charged in complete silence. It wasn't very dark, cloudy skies, but the moon was in its last quarter so we could see quite far. Until Pieters we drove with 2 machines; there the open box truck with the bread was shunted in front of one of the locomotives. The Chief Brunner and I sat down in front with our guns; a lantern was ready to give signals if necessary, and off we went, as quietly as possible. It was a strange feeling to be riding 500 meters from the English guards, in front of our positions, but it went well. Twice we drove over cliffs that had probably been thrown onto the rails by bursting bombs during the day, fortunately without derailing. We arrived at Tugela station, the bread was quickly unloaded, no one was to be seen, all the bearings had been moved to the back and to this day I doubt whether ours got their hands on a piece of the bread. But we took the aircraft that had been rescued with difficulty anyway and rode back in triumph, with full steam, happy about our successful adventure, which would have been impossible the next night.
Still, on Wednesday the prospects for ours started to look better again. The Boers had 'trapped' and hundreds of horse riders and pedestrians, who had already crossed the Klip River, returned to their positions. The last 7 day struggle was about to begin. At Colensodorp the English drove a pontoon over the Tugela and 10 cannons were brought across the river and positioned in the same positions where our cannons were on December 15. Lyddite guns and field pieces had been placed in battery at various places on Boschkop and Mount Christo, unfortunately in the flanks of our positions, so that they covered our redoubts and ditches lengthwise. Infantry were also brought across the Tugela in large masses to charge and bayonet the positions that had been shelled by the guns for one or two days. From sunrise to sunset and often long afterwards the battle lasted, and often long after dark we were startled bythe rattle of gunfire at some point of our positions.

On Thursday evening I heard that General Meijer had given the order to blow up two five-meter bridges between Pieters and Tugela and that this work had been carried out with great speed by the German corps. The bridges between Nelthorpe and Pieters were to be blown up on Friday, as a result of a rumor that the English had already brought one of the feared 5 armored trains across the river. To me this was impossible; A bridge like the Colenso Bridge cannot be repaired in 4 days, even though all materials are available. So I decided to drive to Lukas Meijer on Friday morning and ask him to stop blowing up, because it would be impossible for us to work if we couldn't go to Pieters now and then to do shunting, which is on the main line without switches, at Nelthorpe was impossible. I found the general alone in his tent on Friday morning. He showed me his spyglass, the glass of which had been broken that night by a rifle bullet, which had then been smothered in a silk handkerchief in his coat pocket. He was in good spirits and promised not to let me jump any further bridges without giving us prior notice. What a difference between Botha's open, intelligent face and the leering rascal eyes of this founder of the republic of Freedom; the Dutchman of descent on one side, the Huguenot on the other.

I rode on to a high head, from where we could survey the entire battlefield in its full extent. To our left of Mount Christo and Boschkop, the English guns, which focused their fire mainly on the positions of the Krugersdorpers (9), flashed an elongated ridge on which our people had dug themselves into ditches. And what a fire! A wreath of white shrapnel clouds hung continuously over the head; At the front and back of the ditches the terrible Lyddite bombs burst. All hell was loose on the poor Krugersdorpers, who had to lie still in their holes, defenseless against the flying steel, under the foul fumes of the yellow stinkweed. I have spoken to old Boers, big guys with beards, who told me that they were willing to endure anything, but not another day under such fire: 'this is too terrible'. Two days after the bombing, the grass on the top was yellow, and the water that drained from it was yellow. Yellow beards, yellow jackets and trousers had all who were in the fire. The food and water were spoiled by the yellow poison. And yet, when towards evening the Inniskillings were ordered to charge, they were fired back, leaving their dead and wounded within twenty steps of our ditches. And when our people came out of their ditches the next morning because they could no longer bear the poor fellows' moans and cries for water, the English batteries fired at them because they wanted to help English wounded, and they were left in the barren for three days. sun and rain yearn. All this is the pure truth and was repeated to me by two British soldiers, who, slightly wounded, had crawled to our ditches and taken prisoner. In this way the great British empire puts an end to Krugerism and Boer corruption.

From our head we saw that the English had already advanced their camps far ahead to this side of the river. A long line of wagons, two miles long, crept slowly from Chieveley across the plain to Colenso. Smoke and flames rose from the English battery directly in front of us on this side of the river, due to our beautifully aimed shots. After dark, that battery withdrew across the river and the entire English attack in the following days was almost concentrated on our left wing, which was best within range of the Lyddite guns on Mount Christo. Infantry and cavalry advanced in long lines into the plain between the river and the railway north of Colenso, with the aim of storming the Krugersdorp position (9), advancing along the railway. Of course there was no sign of an armored train; that was another one of those myths that grow like weeds. A wonderful position, very difficult to take, we all thought. Also the German officer who was with us and who declared it 'ausgeschlossen' that the English would break through. But they would still break through, alas!

When we got home in the afternoon, it turned out that the dam that ours were building in the Klip River below Ladysmith would occupy all our attention for the next few days. The sketch on the next sheet serves for a good understanding of the matter20. Ladysmith is located at the lowest point of a plain surrounded by heads, through which the Klip River winds its way in a series of meanders. At the exit of the plain the river runs through a gate at the foot of Bulwanakop. A path has been paved here along the rocks for the railway, immediately next to the railway the slope drops down to the river. A cunning headline now came up with the theoretically very nice idea: 'dam the river in the gate, then the Klip River will flood over the plain and Ladysmith will be flooded'. But the implementation was of course much more difficult than one had expected. It was thought that a simple pocket dam with a base width of approximately 20 meters would be sufficient, which, taking into account the height that the dam had to be, was insufficient. The dam was breached twice when it was not yet half finished and the river had become a little higher due to rain. The main objection, however, was that the dam had to be built under the face of the infamous Platrand, which had stormed through ours in vain on January 6. For a few days the English quietly allowed the people to wander around down by the river, but then one morning a bomb suddenly flew in, heralding a series of others who now came to make the work difficult day and night at irregular times. A few cannons had been towed onto the Platrand to try to make our work impossible. In the beginning an attempt was made to work at night, but the guns were aimed during the day and suddenly fired in the middle of the night, with the effect that the Kaffirs scattered and could no longer be caught.

So we had to work during the day again. On the Ladysmith side of the dam, which already rose a few meters above the water (the river was guided through a wooden tube), a 4-bag thick bulwark was made and on top of it a guard lay in wait for the Platrand. As soon as the guard shouted 'blitz', the whole band of 200 Kaffirs and white men, throwing down everything they had in their hands, ran behind the bulwark and fell flat. 15 seconds passed between the shot and the arrival of the grenade, so enough time to 'carry'. The shell came whizzing in and usually flew over the dam, exploding with a terrible splash of water in the river behind us. That didn't go too well and didn't hinder the work, but another plan was found.

The necessary sandbags were filled by a group of Kaffirs at a distance of approximately 400 meters behind the dam and loaded onto 4 Natal railway wagons. This happened in an almost sheltered place, not in sight of the Platrand, which was out of the fire due to advancing rocks. The wagons filled with sandbags were now pushed to the dam by one of our 19-ton locomotives, where they were unloaded, the empty wagons were then withdrawn again to be reloaded, etc., etc. The special thing about the case was that we started from until (see sketch) a distance of 350 meters, the wagons had to be brought and collected in full view of the enemy and the evil plan was then built to shoot the loco to pieces and thereby make the work impossible.

When I came home on Friday, February 23, in the afternoon, I was informed that the English had only fired at our machine that day, but luckily they had not hit it. A sandbag stack had already been placed in front of the house and the cathedral was also armored. It was a very dangerous job that now lay ahead of us, but we were soldiers, we were commanded and so it would and had to be done. I decided to ride along all day on Saturday to set a good example for the staff, who were not very keen at first. I would like to admit that it required self-control, but military courage is largely self-control. Then just grit your teeth and bite away the rising fear, the 'selbsterhaltungstrieb'. And there is also a wild charm in it, as soon as the machine is in motion, puffing and pushing the heavy wagons with sandbags forward. There we come around the corner: crash, a bomb bursts, 30 steps before the train. Boom, a second one, next to us in the river. With a tremendous bang, a third party jumps at 3 paces from the loco. Truly we are still alive. When we reach the dam, the conductor flies off the machine, the coupling is released, and while the entire group of kaffirs and white people lie plopped down on the dam behind the bulwark, looking at us with fear and admiration, the loco suddenly flies backwards again at full speed, back through the bombs. We approach the corner, luckily we are there and we look at each other smiling, we have rolled through again. And then half an hour later the same game, when the empty cars have to be collected.

I have developed a great feeling of friendship for the big guys with who I lived through those difficult days. 2 Transvaal train drivers, who performed the service every other day, and a Transvaal and a Dutch conductor, who also alternated. They behaved like men and there is no better way to forge strong bonds than to sweat and brag under one bomb.

On Sunday morning, I was not there, the loco was slightly grazed on the eccentric rod by a few flying grenade bullets and a lantern was destroyed. We then decided to armor ourselves even more solidly. In the afternoon we picked up a Natal wagon that was still there in Pieters and built a high bulwark, 2 bags thick, behind which the loco could now drive beautifully. Attached sketch indicates the armor well. A bulwark 2 sandbags thick is impenetrable to field pieces. People noticed the bursting bomb next to the car. With this beautiful decoration we drove to the dam on Monday morning, February 26. There was heavy bombing again, but without effect. A bomb did explode on a wagon loaded with sandbags, but fortunately it did no damage. The rest of the day also went well and in the afternoon it seemed as if the enemy realized the futility of his poor shooting, at least he stopped firing. The dam was now making good progress and according to the supervisor who carried out the work, we would be finished in 20 days.
However, Tuesday February 27, Amajuba Day and Annie's wedding day, would dash all expectations. Chief Brunner and I decided to go forward again and take stock of the battle. We decided to go to the same position where I had already been on Friday and due to lack of horses, this time on foot. A French cannon, which did not fire, had been towed upside down between Friday and today. This time the English concentrated their Lydian fire mainly on positions (10) and (11) that controlled the access to the plain to Pieters.
The number of English camps had increased; Down by the river and in the village of Colenso were the rows of white tents. There was very little fighting on our right wing. The entire attack of the English took place on the left wing. Later we heard that early in the morning English infantry had crossed the river at (19) at a very difficult transition point to attack positions (10) and (11). When Buller did not succeed in taking first the Krugersdorp position (9) and then positions (10) and (11) along the railway, he apparently decided to attack positions (10) and (11) separately and thus to decide Ladysmith's fate. About half past one in the afternoon we descended from our head and when we arrived at Lukas Meijer's lagoon, we realized for the first time that the things started to go wrong. Several people surrounded the general, who was apparently frightened, and were discussing what he should do. The cannon fire on the left wing was tremendous; ambulance trucks drove across the field in different directions. Wounded people on foot and on horseback arrived. At Nelthorpe, where we were even closer to the fighting, things looked even uglier. When we arrived there at 4 o'clock it turned out that there was fighting at Pieters and from a cupola behind the station we could see bombs and shrapnels bursting. Our guns had already been withdrawn from Pieters and only gunfire held back the English. Towards sunset our last position was stormed by the English; ours left the fortifications and retreated to the plain beyond. Ladysmith was appalled.

Our situation in Nelthorpe was beginning to become dire. You will understand that, as I say here, things only became completely clear to me much later. For the time being one hears nothing but rumors and stories; one wonders what is true and how to act. We do not receive orders and of course we do not want to run away until it is absolutely necessary. The staff insisted on a quick flight, some even wanted to leave our luggage behind. At that moment I felt something for those poor English generals who, on the one hand, forced by a government in London clamoring for victories, on the other hand, using common sense, try to avoid all obstacles and do stupid things. How superiorly the railway experts in Pretoria and Newcastle would have smiled if I had made a mistake and, for example, had run away too quickly, even if that had been madness, and also, how stupid we would have been if we had allowed ourselves to be caught for a to spend a few months in Cape Town. But fortunately, we rolled through well and with decency; not a moment too soon, moreover, at the very last moment we slipped out. I almost don't understand why they couldn't catch us.
Fortunately, our old acquaintance Van Pesch came to our aid. He was with the scouts and had seen the last part of the battle well. According to him, the lancers would most likely be with us at dawn, and he even thought it was not impossible that they would arrive along the railway during the night. I doubted the latter; the night was dark and I thought it unlikely that the English would venture into their completely unknown forest terrain in the dark. The sketch on the next sheet serves to illustrate our position properly. We were, as it were, trapped; the only place to cross the Klip River was through the drift behind Bulwanakop. Between the drift and Pieters there was only an open plain. To get to the Drift, the English had to travel one side, we the other, of the triangle formed by the railway and the Drift-Pieters and Drift-Nelthorpe footpaths. 

Of course, there was no way for Ladysmith to get away. An open plain separated us from the English and only prudent action could allow us to escape. First of all, the locomotives were made unusable. The scissors and blocks were removed and dug into the ground next to the locomotives. I then sent a message to Modderspruit to send the mule truck so that, if possible, it could be here before sunrise to take away personnel and baggage. Finally we dragged all our belongings outside between some shrubs, so that if the lancers came in the dark, they would not find us in the house. The government telegraphy, which was also housed in the station, waited for an order to disappear at any moment. The order came at 12 o'clock at night and they left at 2 o'clock. With a few ambulance men we were the only ones left in Nelthorpe and with our guns next to us we tried to get some sleep. But by half past four we were lively again. The expected car did not come and some of the staff did not want to wait any longer and left for the drift. I had managed to borrow a horse and I stayed behind with the luggage with my faithful drivers and 1 conductor.

The sun rose, it became light, but no cannon fire and no cavalry on top of us. With a few others I then drove to the Kliprivierdrift, where a block of ox carts blocked the path, and fortunately, there was our cart on the other side, but could not get through. Gradually the block decreased, I shouted for the driver of our cart to come over; he came, at a gallop it went again to Nelthorpe. Our luggage was rescued, it was quickly loaded and taken across the river. But I still considered my task to be complete before I had complete certainty that work on the dam had been stopped. That's why I galloped there again for the last time. A crowd of retreating Boers I encountered looked at me as if I were unwise. I arrived at the dam, there was not a white man to be seen and the Kaffirs were wading through the river by the hundreds and moving away. So no worries on that point and at 7 o'clock I was back at the Klip River, where our guns were just being pulled over and where I had told the staff to wait for me.

It was only here that we heard that last night the order had been given to give up the entire Colenso position, to leave Ladysmith to his fate, and on the Biggersbergen to retreat. It now turned out that we had done the right thing. Wagons and Boers passed us incessantly, the last ones to cross the Klip River; the guns also moved on. I now sent the staff with all their luggage on the wagon to Modderspruit, leaving only an old tent with some food and with Chef Brunner I awaited the further course of events in the Wakkerstroomlager, behind Bulwanakop. This bearing was still before Ladysmith and waited for orders. We pitched our tent and, exhausted as we were, we lay down in it and slept like otters. It was about eleven o'clock when a big noise woke us up and we discovered that the entire Wakkerstroomlager had already been broken up and the last cars were pulling away. Tired as we were, we had to move on. Our old tent was left behind and with a loaf of bread under one arm and a kettle with coffee under the other arm, we walked on. Fortunately, a few people from the Information Office drove us a while later28behind, who had a mule chariot and unridden horses. We climbed back into the saddle and when we came to a beautiful tree, we decided to stay there for the time being and continue the next morning. So long Long Tom was still on Bulwanakop, we still had cover at our backs and there was no need to hastily set out.

We made ourselves comfortable under our tree. The great flow of Boers was over; it became quiet in our plain, a single pedestrian passed by. From Ladysmith people occasionally shot to Bulwana. Apparently people were not yet in luck there and Buller's troops had not yet penetrated the city. People even shot at our dam every now and then. We felt safe and were preparing to spend the night in an abandoned farmhouse, when three of us had the bright idea of driving up to Colenso before dark to see how things were going. I was tired and stayed behind. In the meantime, evening began to fall and a heavy thunderstorm came from the north, promising to reduce the sultry temperature. The beans bubbled happily in the pot; a good meal would restore the weakened strength. A bath in the spruit had refreshed me and I was silently looking forward to a calm night. But alas, it shouldn't be this way. Just when it was almost dark the riders arrived at a gallop: 'Saddle up immediately', it was said, 'the plain opposite the Klip River is teeming with English, a camp has already been set up at Pieterstatie and the cavalry is already in Nelthorpe. They are 3 miles behind us. Long Tom is on his way, as soon as he's over we'll be completely exposed.' Well done, that looked good again. We hurriedly stocked up on some food, cocked our muzzles as the lightning flashed, and half an hour later our cavalcade started moving. At the front of the cart, the mules at the head, led by one of us with a lantern, behind us, finally 2 Kaffirs with hand horses. The rain now began to pour down in earnest, it was pitch dark, luckily lightning came to our aid and always showed us the right path ahead.

On we pushed, but after a while it became impossible to continue. The path became too bad and too sloping, the mules kept stumbling and to avoid greater accidents we had to stop, unharness the mules, unsaddle the horses and crawl, shivering, the five of us into the cart, where we each pulled ourselves together as much as possible. shrink into the smallest possible volume to dream about life's difficulties until sunrise. At 1 o'clock Long Tom passed by with a great noise, slowly the hoofbeats of the escort clattered and puddled in the distance and there we were again, somewhere in the plain, with the English behind us. Cannon shots kept falling from Ladysmith, but we didn't know where or where. Later we heard that the relief column had arrived in the village that night and people there became perky and started to extend their antennae.

It had now stopped raining and at half past three we began to prepare for departure under a clear sky. It started to get gray for a moment in the East, when we started moving again. It went well, slowly we started to distinguish things. There, in front of us, a noise that grew louder and louder. We arrived at the Modderspruit, at the drift. The swollen stream rushed past us with thunderous violence, making it impossible for the car to get through the first hours. Schiller's 'Bürgschaft' with a small variation! Critical situation. There was no other option than to try to get through on horseback. Brunner and I placed our clappers next to each other and off we went, first under the horse's legs, then under the belly, higher the water climbed as we progressed, there it reaches the saddles, but our good African animals keep calm in the raging current. Another moment and we're through and we're grinning at each other, dripping with laughter; That trick won't improve us any longer.

But what to do next? We were unarmed, we had sent our guns ahead because we could not carry them with us. The Information Bureau people had certificates from the Red Cross and would therefore under no circumstances be molested. They too were, of course, unarmed. Under those circumstances, Brunner and I declined to stay longer. So we left the horses at the spruit and started the 2 hour walk to Modderspruit station. And it turned out to be high time. Lombaardskop and the plain in front of it were completely deserted, a few horse riders still hurried over the kopps. The main battlement, where I lay for 14 days, had completely disappeared and the last Boers were leaving. In Modderspruit we were received with surprise; they had already given up on us. The last train was ready to leave and was still waiting for orders from the commanding general. Directly behind it was the jump train, which would blow up the bridges and culverts behind us. 
Three Boers passed by here, all to Elandslaagte. They came from the positions around Ladysmith, the town was no longer surrounded, but inside there people were not yet completely confident and they were still busy shelling our positions to see if we would respond. Commissary goods that were still on the site were urgently loaded onto the railway wagons, which were packed to the roof with Boers. Ned brought it at half past twelve. Red Cross ticks off some more goods. Five minutes later the final order finally came (Slim Piet31had of course first given half orders) that we could leave and there went the last train from Modderspruit, immediately followed by the jump train. It was high time: 5 minutes after our departure the bombs fell on the railway yard.
The rest will soon be told. In Glencoe President Kruger and General Joubert were there to address the somewhat frightened and despondent minds. It was touching to hear the brave old president address his citizens. He was otherwise not gentle: 'Hello, President' said the arrivals, 'Hello, cowards' they grumbled back and everyone crawled into their shell. Exhausted and hungry I arrived in Newcastle late at night and 4 days later I was back in Waterval at the mines. The English had taken my line away from me and so there was nothing for me to do for the time being.

The general course of events is of course known to all of you. You know that ours really got stuck in the Biggersbergen and are still there; that Roberts After the conquest of Kimberley, he marched on Bloemfontein and took it34; that ours are in good order at Brandfort35withdrew and from there again carried out some successful operations. With all that, the situation is grim. What will the future bring?

Your MM

Here is Martinus Middelberg's drawing of one of the two 9-tonners operating on the Tugela - Nelthorpe line during the siege of Ladysmith, showing the use of sandbags as armour (redrawn from a sketch in the M. Middelberg Collection).




..