In the
afternoon a tea and Christmas-tree for the Dutch and English children
had been organized by some officers of the Protectorate Regiment.
Amongst those who contributed to the amusement of these poor little
white-faced things, on whom the close quarters they were obliged to keep
was beginning to tell, none worked harder than Captain Ronald Vernon. I
remember returning to my quarters, after the festivity, with this
officer, and his telling me, in strict confidence, with eager
anticipation, of a sortie that was to be made on the morrow, with the
object of obtaining possession of the Boer gun at Game Tree Fort, the
fire from which had lately been very disastrous to life and property in
the town. He was fated in this very action to meet his death, and
afterwards I vividly recalled our conversation, and reflected how
bitterly disappointed he would have been had anything occurred to
prevent his taking part in it. The next day, Boxing Day, I shall ever
remember as being, figuratively speaking, as black and dismal as night.
I was roused at 4.30 a.m. by loud cannonading. Remembering Captain
Vernon's words, I telephoned to Headquarters to ask if the Colonel and
Staff were there. They had all left at 2.30 a.m., so I knew the
projected action was in progress. At five o'clock the firing was
continuous, and the boom of our wretched little guns was mingled with
the rattle of Boer musketry.
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