At 11 P.M. on the 19th of September, 1901, after a day’s hard fighting from early morn till sunset, we started, 70 men in all, with the intention of attacking a column encamped at the foot of a hill.  It was a very cold night, and the moon, casting her pale light across the frosty plains, was sinking in the west.  The column was about eight miles off.  As we approached it, deep silence reigned.  Not a word, not a whisper was heard.  Ah! if we could but succeed in passing the enemy’s pickets unobserved, the victory would be ours, the battle half won.  So we held our breath and our tongues as well, and moved onward.  Indeed, we have succeeded!  We are past the pickets, and that unnoticed!  The hill, where the slumbering foe is encamped, is in our possession.

Having dismounted, the burghers were arranged in fighting order.  Commandant Louis Wessels was placed on one flank, Commandant De Bruijn on the other.  Before commencing the work of destruction, we briefly admonished and encouraged the men to be true to each other and to fight as befits men.  We pointed out to them that our success would depend entirely upon our united efforts.  For a long address there was no time, so we proceeded to the camp.

The moon has set.  Down below the enemy is fast asleep.  Soon, too soon, their midnight slumbers will be sadly disturbed.  Many of them will not see the dawn of another day.  They are enjoying their last sleep.

Silently we moved on to the British column, which gave no signs whatever that our approach was suspected.  As it was very dark, the men were ordered not to advance ahead of one another, for fear of accidents, and also, if possible, to march right through the camp, so as to make sure of all.

Commandant L. Wessels, famous for his dauntlessness, was the first to open fire by lodging a shot in one of the enemy’s tents.  The rest followed, and then a shower of bullets, thick and fast, poured in upon the surprised and embarrassed foe.  The men aimed low and fired with deadly precision.  The flashes of the rifles leapt forth like lightning freaks in the darkness.  Never before had I witnessed such a scene.

In a quarter of an hour all was over and the whole camp taken.  Two Maxims were destroyed and an Armstrong was taken along with us.  What havoc was played in that brief quarter of an hour!  The wounded mules, horses and men lay groaning side by side.  Colonel Murray, Captain Murray, and almost all the other officers, fell in the action, and several privates passed into the unseen world that fatal night.  So terrific was the firing that entire teams of mules were shot down where they stood tied to the ropes.

As the veldt was strewn with the many wounded and the dead, we could not put the waggons on fire, lest the grass should catch fire and consume the fallen in battle.  We took what we could remove and left the camp—­not exactly as we found it, but a little poorer.

The enemy, though attacked off their guard, defended themselves bravely.  We shall not forget the gallant conduct of the officer who had charge of the Maxim.  Distinctly we could hear him say, “Get the Maxim into action.  Don’t be afraid, boys.  Go for them!  Go for them!” Brave man!  He, too, fell by the side of his Maxim, which was charged and seized by Commandant Wessels.