Late in the progress of the war in South Africa, long after conventional warfare had become guerilla engagements, British forces were engaged in a "sweep" - combing through the countryside to capture Boer forces. At Bothasberg, as the sweep ended, Boer forces drove a screen of cattle at the retaining line occupied by New Zealand forces of the Seventh Contingent. An 80-strong unit suffered 65 casualties in the fight. 700 Burghers escaped but many did not.
The surviving New Zealander s were paraded for Field-Marshal Lord Kitchener who personally thanked them for their courage. They were afterwards known as the "Fighting Seventh."
New Zealanders and the Late War;
Or, SOLDIERS FROM THE LAND OF THE MOA.
By NEW ZEALANDER. (excerpt)
It was near midnight on the 23rd of February when, as the troopers afterwards wrote, "the lowing of cattle and rumbling of waggons and voices of women" were heard, about two miles away, by the Otago and Canterbury men. The moon was obscured by clouds, and the pickets, consisting of only six men in each, stationed 100 yards apart, were napping in their overcoats on the damp ground (a sentry mounting guard on each post) after a meal of freshly-slaughtered roast sheep they had cooked on bivouacking, when the sentries roused them all. The officers in charge had all prepared and sent word to Colonel Cox (N.S.W.), in command of the pom-pom, with Rimington's Scouts, and in less than half an hour the Canterbury lads heard, across the deep donga up which some of the enemy had rushed, and which separated them from their Otago comrades,
— A Terrible Outbreak of Firing. —
C. Dunford, one of our wounded, wrote home: "The Boers came up behind 6000 head of cattle, and then got right up to the post in the darkness before we could tell what they were. Then we got it from back and front. I must say the Boers are very game; they came on us as if they were going to a fair, as cool as can be." Another, J. Frame, wrote: "The form of attack was very good; they rushed one post of six men, about 300 of them, with cattle drawn in front for cover, and, of course, succeeded in breaking through, as they had only six men, to oppose them. Of these six five are reported killed and one wounded." Another continues the tale: "The Boers, under De Wet, Steyn, and Menie Botha, then advanced along the trenches in a half circle, and poured a deadly fire upon all sides, which made our men's escape impossible. Although the odds were six to one, our men never left their posts, and what was left of them kept firing away till their rifles were snatched from them by the enemy, . . . Our casualties were 23 killed and 45 wounded, and the only wonder is that any of the 95 men escaped." Sergeant Minifie wrote: "When all our officers had been knocked over, I did my best to rally the men and keep their pecker up. Most of us had run short of ammunition, and; I found from the captain of the pom-pom, under Colonel Cox, that a case of ammunition was coming up. We hung to the position for 15 minutes, and a good number of our fellows were bowled over. The pom-pom fired about 20 rounds or so and then jammed. The captain of it was shot dead. In a short time the gunners were shot, and the gallant Sergeant Minifie, with a couple of surviving Canterbury men, ran the gun 100 yards and tossed it over the cliff into the donga, thus saving it from the enemy, before he fell severely wounded. The
— Incidents of Individual Valour —
and still more courageous patient suffering, reported in letters, are many, and how many must there have been of which nothing was heard. The acknowledgments of their comrades' courage and kindness, too, are such as only brave might make. C. Dunford writes that, having been shot through the body, and wrapped in his blanket by a comrade, and later in his agonies having rolled out of it, two of the enemy stopped, after asking if he were hurt, and, expressing their sorrow, wrapped him up in it again. Sergeant James Conn, an Otago boy, who wrote to his father a most modest account of his part in the struggle, after mentioning the casualties, said his wound was not dangerous, though his coat and hat were riddled with bullets, and added, "Now I have no doubt you are confident after my explanation of the affair that I am fortunate in being alive at all. There is a satisfaction in knowing that I have had a Boer gallop at me, calling out 'Hands up!' and that his horse passed me riderless, the Boer having 'turned a seven.' " -Otago Witness, 12/10/1904.
THE HEROES OF BOTHASBERG
IN THE CHURCHES.
A MESSAGE FROM LORD KITCHENER
RECORDS OF SOME OF THE SUFFERERS.
CHEERED IN THE COMMONS.
In hurriedly running down the names of those who had fallen or suffered in the deadly trench at Bothasberg while the press waited on Saturday morning, it was concluded that none of Southland's sons had fallen, but this has to be contradicted for Alexander Scott, of Clifton, William Dunlop, of Pine Bush, and Joseph Ashmore, of Orepuki, are among those who have found soldiers' graves and a place on the roll of honour. It is with great sorrow that the people will read these names, but they will also thrill with pride when they know that the sacrifice was not made in vain, and that through the noble deaths of these New Zealanders a large force of the enemy was captured and the end of the war brought within measurable distance. Only a few names have yet been written on the roll of New Zealand's heroes, but these men have won a place among those whose names will be held in honoured remembrance, for they died fighting against heavy odds, with their rifles hard gripped, smoking, hot, and their bayonets running red.
In the First Church yesterday evening, the Rev. J Gibson Smith, preaching from Job, c13, v15, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him" said, in concluding his sermon "And now, my friends, will you pardon me it I make a brief allusion to the tidings tidings received throughout our land with mingled pride and sorrow — which the telegraph has flashed across to us within the last few days from the seat of war. At first that message was conveyed to us in words and tones befitting a story of a great disaster, and as a disaster it has been spoken of in the press. But now the facts have emerged more clearly, and we see it was truly a message of victory and not of defeat — a victory gained, indeed, at the price of precious blood, at the cost, of heroic lives, but still a victory for our country's and especially for our own dear colony's arms. And I for one make bold to say that in that victory I do with all my heart rejoice, counting it as one of God's mercies to our Empire. and hailing it as a great step forward towards the ending of this deplorable strife. And further, I rejoice to think that in the time of trial the sons of our land have proved themselves most worthy of their trust to think that when the sudden summons came in the dead of night they were called to face the rushing storm of bullets, or else to see the whole long, tedious work of their comrades brought all in a moment to nought. I rejoice to think, I thrill with pride and admiration to think, that the slender little colonial line stood fast before their brave and desperate and numerous foes, that not a man who had breathed New Zealand air, was found to quail, that though soldier after soldier fell, yet their comrades never flinched, but still fought on and on, till out of the long-drawn agony they emerged as victors in the strife. The sons of New Zealand have been passed through the hottest furnace of battle, and though we never doubted their valour, yet even we could hardly have expected them to emerge so nobly from a test so searching, from an ordeal so bitter and fierce. And so as lovers of our country and our Empire we are glad and we rejoice. Yet can we not forget the price — the terrible price, that has been paid for our cause of rejoicing. We cannot forget that this very night there are homes dotted over our land where mothers are weeping for the gallant sons who went forth from their side in the flush of hope and manly strength, went forth it may be with a song upon their lips, went forth, alas! to return no more. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, lovers, friends — they are weeping to-night — weeping for their gallant dead. Ah the sore hearts — the sore, sore, hearts, this terrible war has caused! What shall we say to them? Shall we tell them of their country's gratitude? Yes. surely, it is right and fitting that we should. Shall we tell them of our love and honour and admiration for those who died so bravely? Yes, that also. Shall we tell them that the influence of those who have fallen will live on in after years to inspire succeeding generations with their noble spirit? Yes, that also, for that also is true. But will that be enough 'Can we not strike even a higher note? Can we not bid them look straight up to God — the God who gave his Son to be slain for them, and ask them if now, in the very depth of their sorrow, they cannot say "Yea, though he slay my best and dearest — yea, though he take the son of my body, my brother, my lover — yet still will I trust in Him. Still will I believe that His will is a will of love. Still will I trust that in another world than this, where strife and discord are for over done away, the Eternal Father will reveal that there is a solution found for every mystery; and a healing balm for every wound." The organist also played the Dead March in Saul, while the congregation stood with bowed heads. -Southland Times, 3/3/1902.
The remains of William Dunlop lie in the Garden of Remembrance at Vrede, South Africa.
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