TOPIC:

Lance-Corporal T. W. Gunstone, of the Kaffrarian Mounted Rifles, under General Brabant, is the youngest son of Mr Thomas Gunstone, 70, Hamilton-street, Cardiff, and in a letter from Aliwal North describes in vivid language the capture of Labuschagne Nek on March 4th. On the 3rd of March about 800 of them, he says, left Dordrecht and worked their way around the back of the nek and got at the foot of the kopje as day was breaking. "Here we opened at about 20 paces apart and charged the height. It was a sight I shall never forget. Horsemen covered the veldt for quite one square mile. Then it was a race for the hill. Every horse seemed to know what was wanted, and away we flew, riding about halfway up, when it was too steep to go any further on horseback. Every third man of his section fell out to hold horses. We went away from rock to rock until we reached the top. Then came the hot work, the ping and whiz of bullets. Each man his own general, and fighting the Boers in his own style. No forming fours. Sometimes you would be lying flat on your face alongside a major, firing behind a stone, another time with somebody else, all ranks of the line on the same footing. The kopje was about two miles long, and bit by bit we worked our way along until within 600 yards of the end, where they had a fort built up of stones and earth. Here it was shot for shot until some of our boys, about 20 of all corps, made a rush for a little rise where they worked themselves around to get at the fort. Two got over the wall and right inside, but the rest got beaten back, with the exception of a few, who were lost. Soon after this up goes a white flag held on a rifle. The whistle sounded cease firing. Then the saying came true of swearing like a trooper. D--- the flag. Over the wall came a man as naked as the day he was born and running like a racehorse, falling as he came. Who should he be but one of the boys who had rushed into the fort and got caught? They had stripped him; you know the rest. Our big guns soon made short work of their fort. Their guns replying did good work, but the shells were bad. A shell burst right above us and all was dust (whether the man that made them was a friend of the British I don't know). If they had been like ours it would have been a bad day for us. Whoever they had at their guns knew how to shoot. Rifle shot and shell you get awfully familiar with. After the first few minutes you don't care a bit for them, and you wait for a shot as you would for a bird. I shot over 150 rounds away, and I think the majority of us did. The Boers pay no attention to the Red Cross, and try to shoot down stretcher bearers the same as the line. The whole day long it was creep up a little, have a few shots, and off again, and so on. The only way is to fight them at their own game. This went on until night. Then up came food to us. About 11 p.m. we were to charge their position, but this failed owing to fog, so we worked our way up to within 200 yards. Here we lay down - no big coats, not over full, and very tired - until daylight, and then at the same game for a short time. Soon after we were ordered to their laager. They had left everything behind, and, my word, they live a lot better than us. Duck, chicken, sheep, oxen, cake, and everything you could think of. Did we not go into it like a lot of school kids out for a Sunday school treat! Roast chicken, duck, and sucking pig was the order of the evening, and the same next morning. Then came the order back to camp. Talk about Father Christmas, he wasn't in it. Everybody, from the captain down, had something or other across his saddle. We passed through Dordrecht about 3 p.m., and the people that were left there stood like so many fools - mostly Dutch - with open mouth and a look of hatred on their faces, as we laughed over our spoils. In all, we had about 400 sheep and 200 oxen, and we burnt all that was left behind, including their tents. Our loss was 14 killed and 32 wounded.

Going on to describe the entry of Brabant's force into Aliwal North, Lance-Corporal Gunstone says: - "The poor people thought it was another party of Boers, but they were gladly mistaken. As we came at a stretch gallop along the main road up went the Union Jack, and a cheer burst from the advance to the rear of the column as loud as we could shout. Women half-dressed, men the same, every living soul in the place, from three years old to the grey-headed, turned out, some singing 'God save the Queen,' others 'Rule Britannia,' some waltzing, others crying. It did us good, I can tell you. I was going to say I would give a year of my life to see it again. It was a treat, I can tell you, but we had to go on and could not get a word with the folks. On the bridge we caught the rear of the Boers' waggons, and only just in time to save the bridge. It is called the Frere Bridge, built in 1880, and opened on the 21st of June in that year. It would have cost us a lot of trouble to have got across the river if this was blown up. Half of us were ordered back to town, although we swore at it, but now came the treat. I never thought what human nature had in it before. Old and young came to us as if we were gods, and dusty gods at that. After a ride along the dusty roads we were like a lot of street urchins at home that had been throwing dust at each other, and some of us without a wash since leaving Jamestown. They would shake our hands and talk to us, and neither officers nor anybody else could keep them back. Water was our cry, and we got it. They were only too pleased to come round with a bucket or a jug, and telling us what they would have had for us if they had only known we were coming. The only news they had had was from the Boers, after this style: -English killed; a grand victory for the Boers; two Boers and ten horses killed. Now came cake, bread, or anything they had in their houses. Their smiles were as good as a feed. Aliwal North is a town of about 3,000 inhabitants, and a pretty-looking spot. The people that are left here are a grand lot. You cannot go to town from camp without coming back full up, and the people treat us as if we were their own brothers."

South Wales Daily News, Wednesday 18th April 1900


The caption to the above photograph (on Pinterest) reads: - "Boers crossing the Orange River bridge at Aliwal North before advancing south to Stormberg before the Battle of Stormberg on 9th December 1899." No copyright is given for this photo.
www.artefacts.co.za/main/Buildings/bldgframes.php?bldgid=11772

A brilliant woman once said that the more she knew of men the better she liked dogs. Here is a fine story sent home by a Cardiff man - Mr. Thomas Gunstone - who was in Johannesburg when the war broke out. He joined the Kaffrarian Rifles, and saw some of the hardest of active service, went through numerous engagements, and spent some time in hospital. When living in Johannesburg he had a dog, and in the subsequent days of strife and battle Mr. Gunstone found himself frequently regretting that he had not shot the dog rather than have left it to the tender mercies of Boers or of starvation. A year of war, and the Kaffrarian Rifles were disbanded. Mr. Gunstone returned to Johannesburg, and when he reached his house the dog was there to give him the friskiest of welcomes. The good creature had shifted for itself during that stirring twelvemonth.

Western Mail, Monday 12th November 1900



During the war few Colonial corps have seen more service than did the Kaffrarian Rifles, in which three men from Cardiff and district, Sergeant Gunstone, of Hamilton-street, Cardiff, Trooper Job, of Llandaff, and Trooper James, of Grangetown. Within the past few days Sergeant Gunstone and Trooper Job returned to their homes.

One of our reporters had an interview with Gunstone on Thursday afternoon, and found him looking hearty and well after his long experiences. Prior to going to South Africa five years ago he was at Spillers and Bakers'. He is an engineer, and up till the outbreak of the war held a berth on one of J. B. Robinson's properties at Johannesburg. He served in the Kaffrarian Rifles for 12 months under Gatacre, Brabant, Methuen, and Hunter. He was in a large number of engagements, and had many narrow escapes, but came through them all unscathed. Sergeant Gunstone is now spending a well-earned holiday with his parents and expects to return to South Africa in about six months.

Among other South Walians serving in the Kaffrarian Rifles were Adjutant T. R. Price, a cousin of Mr Walter Rees, of Neath, Sergeant T. Smart, of Llanelly, and Trooper Margrave, of Llanelly.

South Wales Daily News, Friday 21st December 1900


GUNSTONE. - August 25th, at Pretoria, Tom Wolseley, aged 32 years, beloved and youngest son of Thomas and Sarah Gunsttone, of 70, Hamilton-street, Cardiff.

Evening Express, Wednesday 28th August 1906


Mr Tom Wolseley Gunstone, youngest son of Mr and Mrs Thomas Gunstone, of Hamilton-street, Cardiff, and uncle to W. H. Gunstone, who has played for Cardiff and Newport [ Rugby Union ], died at Pretoria on Saturday last after a long illness following paralysis of the brain. Deceased, who was 32 years of age, figured prominently as a youth in Rugby football in Cardiff, and was a member of the Cardiff Juniors and Cardiff Stars Clubs, from which sprang many players of distinction. He was a millwright apprentice at Spillers, and went to South Africa as an engineer. He served his country through the Boer war with signal credit.

Cardiff Times and South Wales Weekly News, Saturday 1st September 1906

Berenice,

I am updating Wepener biographies this weekend so this is perfect as T W Gunstone was one of those men.

Best wishes
David