LIFE OF ADVENTURE

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXVII, Issue 4473, 21 November 1933, Page 6

LIFE OF ADVENTURE

BOER WHO FOUGHT WITH BRITISH. South Africa is a land rich in romantic personalities, but it has no more gallant and winning a figure of romance than Deneys Reitz (writes N. de V. Hart in the London Daily Telegraph). That the Boer lad, who fought against the British, and then, after the Peace of Vereeniging, retired into volutary exile with his father rather than submit to their rule, should in November 1918, be found leading a battalion of the Royal Scots Fusiliers to the Rhine as part of the Allied Army of Occupation implies a tale of high adventure hard to parallel outside the realms of fiction. But there is much more to it than that. Deneys Reitz has himself told the tale, and in telling it has made great literature.

Nothing, probably, was farther from this thoughts. “Commando,” in which he related his doings in the Boer War, was based on his youthful journal. “Trecking On,” containing a preface by General Smuts, takes up the story where “Commando” left it, and is an eve'n greater book.

The first page tells of his days of exile in Madagascar, of his return to his own country. If I pass over this part of the book and over the campaign in “German West” and “German East” drive, begins with these characteristically simple words: “With the greatest war in the history of the world going on in Europe, I did not feel that I could return to a quiet village life, so I decided to go overeas.” His father, ex-President Reitz of the Orange Free State, could not understand why he should wish to get himself “killed in France for the sake of the British.”

“But I had thought the matter out, and I replied that I was going to fight, not for the British, but with the British and the other Allied nations. He said: ‘Well, my son, if those are your views I cannot stop you/ and he gave me his blessing and his hopes for a safe return.” When Reitz reached England, he joined the Army as a private. He subsequently received a commission and was promoted to major. In August, 1917, he left for France as second-in-command of the 7th Irish Rifles. Shortly after his arrival in the trenches he was wounded, and, by the middle of December, we find him convalescing at Melchett Court, Sir Alfred Mond’s estate, which had been turned into a hospital with Lady Mond as commandant.

“At night I played bridge with Sir Aljfred Mond and his family, qnd sometimes Lord Reading was of the party. He played even better bridge than General Botha, as I found to my cost. ...

“One night the news came through that General Allenby had captured Jerusalem. Lord Reading was visibly moved by the historic event, and in a voice quivering with emotion, he said to Mond: ‘Alfred, at last the time has come for the rebuilding of King Solomon’s temple.’ Sir Alfred, with a wink at me, replied: ‘Yes, Rufus, a'nd what’s more, you and I will get the contract and run it up for them in reinforced concrete and beat old Solomon’s building record into a cocked hat.’ ” The Dammed Stream. In January, 1918, Reitz joined the Scots Fusiliers in France at Boyelles, on the Arras-Bapaume Road. The Fusiliers had previously been commanded in this very area by Mr. Winston Churchill, and Colonel Reitz relates that Captain George Bissett, the adjutant, told him that: “On one occasion Mr. Churchill tried to dam up the Cojeul River a mile or so north of this with sandbags stripped from the parapets. His intention was to create a head of water with which to flood the German front line, but instead he flooded the British front line instead, as well as many of the rear communication trenches and there was a considerable flutter in the dovecotes of the Higher Command in consequence.” In March came the great German offensive. Colonel Reitz describes how it began with an “instantaneous crash the like of which was never heard on sea or land, from thousands upon thousands of guns roaring on a front of thirty miles.” He continues: “We were stunned by the concussion of literally thousands of bursting shells, and although the light was uncertain, for there hung a mist, we could see that all our front stood wrapped in a sea of smoke and flame, and the earth heaved and twisted under our feet.” There followed the debacle of Gough’s Fifth Army, and Colonel Reitz’s picture of it all defies quotation; it must be read in its entirety. But his summing up may be given: “I have never held a high opinion of the military tactics of the British in the Great War. I think they could have fought it at a fifth of the cost and a fifth of the casualties, but of their stubborn valour no man who has seen them in days like these can have a doubt.”

Watched from Parapet. And later, when reinforcements had come up and the tide had turned, Reitz, who had been grievously wounded a second time, wrote: “I was glad to have witnessed so mighty a conflict in the company of such brave men.” When September 27 (the day of the advance) came, Reitz was selected as one of the five reserve officers to take the place of casualties. He obtained from General Fisher, however, permission “to take up some coign of vantage from which to witness the attack,” and he characteristically decided that “the best spot for making use of the general’s permission was from the parapet. As zero hour approached he describes how: “A stillness fell over the line. A million men were facing each other on this battle front, but there was scarcely a sound, save for a rare shot loosed by some nervous sentry.” His account of the breaking of the German army again baffles quotation, and I pass to the moment when, in command of the Ist Battalion of the Royal Fusiliers, he rode in sunshine through France to the Rhine: “All along our course the prisoners and refugees cheered us and often crowded round, nearly pulling me from my horse in their efforts to shake hands. Once, while we were halted on the road, a tattered figure stopped to look us over. He was dressed in an old French tunic a'nd he had wooden clogs on his feet. The men took him for a French prisoner of war, so they saluted him with the usual cries of ‘Boche napoo, guerre fini, vie la France!’ during which the fellow quizzically surveyed them, then he said in broad Scotch, ‘Ahm frae Glesgie maself —cheerio, lads,’ and there was a roar of delighted laughter.” A rare and a great book indeed.