Scenes in the Transvaal.

Temuka Leader, Issue 3539, 25 January 1900, Page 3

Scenes in the Transvaal.

ALTER the battle.

“ Stoneybkokk” only a few months ago saw Dr Tisser (Medical Officer of Health for Johannesburg) dressed with the inevitable kid gloves, and shaved to the last indication of a hair, with his carefully “ hongroised” moustache. On Sunday morning last I met him on Elandslaagte. A. tarnished suit of khaki had taken the place of the natty cut away coat and tweed trousers, and a wearied stare instead of the usual self-possessed expression. The doctor rode up with the younger Kock, and a dozen other Boers, all wearing the Bed Cross badge, and was pointed out the spot where old misguided Gen. Kook lay, badly wounded. Young Kock was in a bad way, and asked if the English General was a kind man, as ho wished to bo allowed to remain and nurse the old man. He remarked ho had no doubt ho and his friends had the sympathy of myself and many others in Natal! i replied that he certainly had my sympathy in his personal trouble. Ono young Gordon, with bright eyes and a smiling face, told mo how ho was wounded by a rilio shot received in the knee at the moment the Gordons saw that the victory was theirs. The knee, he said, was difficult to heal when some of the bones were shattered as his were, and ho was afraid he would be detained. “ I want another slap at them. There’s to be a big fight some day, and I want to be in it.” —ln the Boer contingent a fairhaired youth of about 17 years sat in a chair, his head thickly bandaged. A Boer lying near said “ the youngster” was half German, and from some place not far from Capetown. The youth had been telling the others that if sent on board the warship in Simon’s Bay he would be able to see his home! Boer prisoners have had abetter time of it in the hands of the English than accustomed to in the ranks of the commandoes. The first three Boer prisoners brought to Price’s store had a good time of it. The Tommy Atkinses in charge, after having satisfied themselves what a Boer was like at close quarters, commenced comparing notes on the engagement, and before the prisoners had been in the house half-an-hour they had whatever they wanted in solid and liquid refreshments. With the exception of a young Hollander all could speak English fluently —A sandyhaired, square-headed German, with alance wound clean through the muscles above the knee joint, was brought in, howling and shivering like a sickly schoolgirl in hysterics. He kicked up such a row, and threw his arm about so like a man in the delirium tremens, that a man in the Gordons, with one arm in a sling, threatened to brain him with an empty beer bottle. -A Highlander swore with a strong Dundee ascent. This follow had his wrist shattered with a Mauser bullet. On the “field dressing” being removed the bload spurted out of the wounded arm like a garden spray, which caused the gallant Dundonian to ejaculate “Ma God !” _ After getting his wound attended to he immediately tackled a plateful of bread and jam, saying apologetically. “ I hena’ had onything tae eat the day.”—A man, with a bushy, black board and strongly marked features, lay on his back in a bed. His head was bandaged up, and the mattress was saturated with blood, which flowed from a wound in the shoulder. His name was Harris, and asked as to how ho came to be fighting on the Boer side, all ho could say was, “I’vebeen a d f oo l The scene at Price’s store on the night, of the fight was a memorable one. Wounded men were being attended at one end of the dining room, while soldiers and civilians, officers and men were hungrily disposing of biscuits and bully beef at the other. A few bottles of whiskey had heeu smuggled out of sight during the Boer occupation, but these evaporated on the re-occupation of the store by the wet and dirty Britons, Further batches of Boor prisoners were brought in, and the little side room which served as a prison house, became over-crowded. Later in the night these men were brought before an impromptu court-martial, consisting of two good-natured and half-amused Imperial officers, and a pompons little volunteer, with two stars on his shoulder straps. This court-martial, if such it was, ended without result. In the back kitchen, sat a group of soldiers. Imperial Light Horse, and Volunteers, yarning, smoking, and drinking, to while away the weary hours. A Kaffir prisoner, with half of his scalp torn away, lay bleeding in his rags under the kitchen table. A bronzed sergeant of the Lancers, with a jocularity that contrasted with his appearance, described, with bis riling whip, how he impaled two Dutchmen with one poke of his lance. A young sergeant of the 1.L.H., 25 years of age, sported a Boer commandant’s sash over his dirty khaki tunic, and described his feats of prowess to a half-credulous audience. In the corner sat a poor old Dutch vrow, bewailing at intervals the shamefulness of war. At last the morning broke, and in the dull, drizzly morning, the victorious column returned to Ladysmith, and left the battlefield they had so hardly won to beaten Boors. —Natal Mercury.