AN ATHY SOLDIER AT TUGELA AND SPION KOP
Leinster Leader 23 June 1900
AT TUGELA AND SPION KOP
An Athy Soldier’s Experiences
Interview with a Dublin Fusilier
Our Athy representative ahs interviewed an Athy man, a member of H Company, 2nd Battalion Dublin Fusiliers, who fought at the engagements of Talana Hill, Colengo, Spion Kop, and Peter’s Hill, where he was wounded, and who returned home to Athy on Saturday last after spending twelve days at Netley Hospital. He looks little the worse for his dreadful experiences, and while he describes his campaign life, as by no means an ideal one, with the characteristic pluck and determination of the Celt he seems “burning for another fight.” His company was at Pietermaritzburg for two years and ten months, when it left on September, the 18th, 1899, for Ladysmith, where men arrived on the same night, about 1,100 strong. War was then in the air; there was bustle, excitement, and activity in military circles, and on the Sunday following their arrival in Ladysmith they proceeded to Dundee on coal trucks. War declared on October the 11th, and the British forces at Glencoe were then 4,700, comprising three batteries of artillery and eighteen guns. After the declaration of war Dundee was infested, and the garrison was constantly under arms. War had commenced in earnest. The private mentioned, who does not wish his name to be published, took part in the battle of Talana Hill.
“What was your first recollection of that battle,” our representative asked. “We stood to arms,” he replied, “at about a quarter past three in the morning, went on parade, and waited for the cavalry to see if the enemy were knocking about. The cavalry came in and said there was no enemy in sight. The men were dismissed, and told to stand to with their arms and straps in case of danger. When we were about a quarter of an hour dismissed “Long Tom” threw in a shell from a distance of about a mile. Notwithstanding the report from the cavalry, I may state that one of our mounted infantry came in the previous night wounded on the left arm, having been fired on, and he reported that the enemy were knocking around.”
The first shell from Long Tom was, he says, followed by several others, and the infantry then marched across the plain towards Talana Hill, protected by artillery. After crossing the plain the Fusiliers and King’s Royal Rifles took protection in a dried-up river bed or donga about 600 yards from the base of the hill. They charged the hill with the bayonet, and the “boys” then commenced to fall, and many of them made their last journey in that trying march up the steep heights of Talana. Having reached the crest of the hill the “cease fire” sounded. “We were annoyed a lot by Long Tom,” said the Fusilier, “and one of the gunners, I remember, declared that he would knock it out of where it was in three shots, and he did. We then gave a tremendous cheer. I wish you to know, however, that when we got to the top of the hill there was no Boer there. They had retreated. We had an exiting time. I remember crossing the plain that I was caught in a wire fence – one of the ordinary fences which divided two farms or partitioned the same farm just like at home – and was knocked down, but I was in no way injured. A fellow, however, named Callaghan from Carlow was shot dead beside me when marching towards the hill. He said to me, ‘keep well extended.’ I gave a long stride out to pass him, when I heard him say, Oh! my knee. I looked around when I saw that he was again hit on the head. That finished him and the poor fellow never spoke afterwards.”
“I was beside Captain Weldon, of Naas, when he was killed on Talana Hill – we were about half way up at the time. On being first wounded he asked his servant to bring him some brandy. The servant was bringing back the brandy when he was shot dead. Captain Weldon then got a few more bullets and was killed.”
“How long did the fight continue?” our representative asked. The reply was “nine and half hours, and it was stiff work.”
“Were your fellows supplied with any drink before or after this fight?” “Well, on the night after the fight we each got a pint of Natal beer – good stuff – the best beer I ever drank. The Cape Town beer, however, is no good. Of course we are entitled to about half [a] glass of free rum every night.”
He then narrated some exciting experiences of the “Dublins” during the retreat from Dundee to Ladysmith.
“We were under orders,” he said, “to march at 11 o’clock at night. The enemy were considerably reinforced, and we had no troops to strengthen us from England. I remember we had taken up a position near Dundee to prevent the enemy from going into the camp, when we got an order that we were to march at 9. Three of our fallows [sic], who didn’t hear that the original order was cancelled, went down to the camp for beer, as some was left behind. We went away without them, and the three of them were shot. We marched to Elandslaaghte, and on the march we heard the guns playing in the battle of Elandslaaghte, and were extended, thinking we would meet the retiring Boers, but we did not. I remember our transport got stuck in the soft road, and we were five days marching. We subsequently entered Ladysmith, whither we went back to Estcourt, from where we were beaten to Frere. We returned to Escourt on an armoured train.”
“You were at the battle of Colenso?” – “Yes. That was a dreadful fight. I walked over dead bodies to the top of the hill. My comrades were falling every side of me.”
“Are men affected,” our representative asked, “by seeing their comrades and friends falling wounded and dead about them?”
The reply was – “You would be tripping over the bodies there; but you are my brother, and in going up the hill I don’t know you. I only think of where I have got to get myself.”
“You were wounded at Peter’s Hill?” – “Yes. I remember we had to advance along the river by a narrow walk, which afforded protection. If you put up your head it was popped off. Still we were marching over dead bodies. It was grand to see the Inniskillings, the Fusiliers, and the Connaught Rangers charge up the hill on February 23rd when within four miles of Ladysmith. I, however, was wounded in the arm. The bullet went in at my left elbow, and is still in my arm. When I was struck I felt as if a rock was falling upon me. In about an hour afterwards I was struck on the left leg. The bullet entered at my toes, went through my instep, and out near my ankle. I fell and was powerles [sic] to move. I remained on the ground for two nights and three days without food or treatment, when I was picked up by a stretcher bearer. During a good deal of this time pebbles and stones struck by bullets used to strike me, and I remember drawing over my helmet to shield my face.”
“What is the sound of war like?” he was asked, “when the artillery and rifle fire is proceeding?”
The reply was – “It is indescribable. You’d imagine sometimes that a multitude of bands was playing over your head. The bullets hiss by you – sharp hiss, which you hear just as it passes. One of those bullets killed poor Allen, of Athy, at Peter’s Hill.”
“What are the Boers like as regards stature?” – “Giants!” was the reply. “They have arms on them as thick as your leg. They are fine men.”
