The Regiment

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by Christopher Nicole


  Reger smiled. ‘Why not? Germany is not at war. Nor likely to be, in our lifetimes.’

  ‘Oh, quite.’

  ‘Do you suppose it would be possible to visit your camp?’ Reger asked. ‘I should very much like to see the British cavalry at work.’

  Murdoch looked at Holt, who gave another shrug. ‘We have nothing to hide, mein Herr. If you are going up to the Transvaal, perhaps you’ll tell the Boers of the strength we possess down here.’

  ‘I shall certainly do that, Captain Holt,’ Reger agreed.

  *

  They spent a convivial evening, with the young German proving the best of companions, able to discuss music and art, drama and politics with as much facility as he talked about military matters. Murdoch suspected that there might be a good deal more to him, and his background, than he was prepared to admit. He spoke of his uncle’s estate in East Prussia, and mentioned several well known German personalities as if he had met them—but he was also totally unlike the average British concept of a Prussian junker, friendly and outgoing rather than stiff and formal, and not in the least offended by some of Holt’s rather blunt remarks or questions as the beer flowed. ‘If you were at university, mein Herr,’ the captain remarked after his tenth pint, ‘why do you not have a duelling scar? I thought all German students carried a duelling scar.’

  Reger gave one of his easy smiles. ‘Simply because I never encountered anyone sufficiently my superior with the sabre to give me one, captain.’

  Holt raised his eyebrows at Murdoch. But Murdoch was inclined to believe their new friend.

  Next day Reger arrived at the camp, riding a hired horse, and after being introduced to Colonel Edmonds, went out with Murdoch to watch the troop being exercised. Colonel Edmonds seemed very pleased to see him; like most Englishmen in 1899, he regarded the close friendship between Germany and Britain, based on the relationship between Kaiser Wilhelm II and the British royal family—he was grandson of Queen Victoria and nephew of the Prince of Wales—as the ultimate factor in preserving the peace of Europe, and thus the world.

  Murdoch was also delighted to see him; he had seldom enjoyed an evening more, and from being friendless, had suddenly acquired two very good friends indeed, both men he could respect and admire. That morning he really put the troop through its paces. It was a rifle exercise, in which the entire squadron galloped to an appointed place, halted at the blast of a trumpet, drawing their rifles from the saddle holsters as they did so, and sought shelter along the banks of a stream, falling into their places with the minimum of orders as they had been taught to do in England, and lying prone, delivered a first volley of blank shot. Holt stood over them, stop-watch in hand; Morton and Murdoch actually manoeuvred with their troops, but joined the captain after the volley.

  “Three minutes, B Troop,’ Holt said. ‘Three and a half minutes, A Troop. You have some work to do, Morton. But I would like it down to two and a half minutes for each troop, if you don’t mind, from the moment the order to dismount is given to the firing of the first volley. Fall out your men for ten minutes, then we’ll try it again.’

  Their batmen poured coffee, and they sat on the dry grass while Holt and Morton smoked cigarettes; the squadron was brewing up a hundred yards away, and the farriers were busy with nosebags for the horses.

  ‘An interesting manoeuvre,’ Reger commented. ‘I have never seen cavalry double as infantry before.’

  ‘Ah, but that is what being a dragoon is all about,’ Murdoch explained. ‘We were raised in the first instance as mounted infantry. That’s why we carry swords instead of sabres, and rifles instead of carbines. What weapons do the Uhlans carry?’

  ‘Lances and swords,’ Reger said. ‘The German army has no equivalent of your dragoons.’ He grinned. ‘Perhaps I shall recommend the adoption of such tactics to General von Schlieffen when next I am in Berlin. And these are all professional soldiers?’

  ‘Oh, indeed,’ Morton told him. ‘No conscripts in the British Army, mein Herr.’

  Morton did not take to the young German, any more than he had appreciated being told his troop had been slow to manoeuvre. But Murdoch continued to find Reger a most pleasant companion, and over the next few weeks saw a great deal of him. Reger invited him to the house at which he was staying in Cape Town. It belonged to a merchant named Dredge, who had apparently had dealings with Germany in the past, and Reger had been given a letter of introduction to him by a friend of his family. William Dredge had a Yorkshireman’s eye for making a profit, and had done very well for himself in South Africa; his house was large and comfortable, and had an extensive garden at the back.

  His wife, considerably larger than her husband, was also a comfortable woman, and they possessed an attractive daughter, Rosetta, who was plump and cheerful like her mother, and clearly delighted to find herself in the company of two handsome young men. Rosetta Dredge, however, soon made it clear she had eyes only for the handsome blond German, who was at once older and more knowledgeable than Murdoch.

  Murdoch did not begrudge him his conquest. He liked him too much. And the feeling was apparently reciprocated. Reger even pretended envy. ‘To belong to such a family,’ he said, ‘why, I would like that more than anything else in the world.’

  ‘To have to live your entire life in the shadow of your ancestors?’ Murdoch smiled.

  ‘Don’t we all do that, anyway?’ Reger countered. ‘It is better at least to know and admire them, and have goals at which to aim in emulating them, than to exist adrift from the past, like a rudderless ship at the mercy of every change of current, every gust of wind. It is purpose which matters in this life, my friend. Purpose.’

  Murdoch was quite sorry when, three days later, Reger took his leave. ‘You have been most kind to me, Murdoch,’ he said. ‘I am grateful. If you are ever in Johannesburg, please visit me. I shall endeavour to repay your hospitality. But now I must be on my way.’

  ‘I don’t know how soon I will get to Johannesburg,’ Murdoch said. ‘It depends on how the situation develops here. But I would like to keep in touch. If you will write me from Johannesburg, giving me your address, I will certainly reply.’

  Reger clasped his hand. ‘Why, I shall do that. I have promised to write to Rosetta in any event. Expect to hear from me within a month.’

  But before the month had elapsed the Boers had issued an ultimatum, demanding that the British cease building up their military establishment in South Africa, and two days later, no satisfactory reply having been received, they declared war.

  2 – The Modder River, 1899

  There was tremendous excitement in Cape Town as the news came through that the Boers had made several simultaneous attacks, both to the east and west of their centrally placed republics, had invested the towns of Kimberley and Mafeking, and were even invading Natal. ‘Of course, Sir George White commands in Natal,’ Colonel Edmonds told his officers. ‘With a strong force of regulars. He’ll stop them, no doubt about that.’

  ‘Are we going there, sir?’ Chapman asked.

  ‘No. Our business is to defend Cape Colony until the arrival of General Buller and the rest of the corps. The plan, as I understand it, will then be to invade the Orange Free State from the south and west, relieve Mafeking and Kimberley, and simply roll up the Boers against White’s force in Natal.’

  ‘But if Sir George White really smashes them and they make peace,’ Morton protested, ‘we won’t even get a look in.

  ‘You’ll get your look in,’ Edmonds promised him. ‘When General Buller gets here. It is his intention to dictate peace in Johannesburg. You’ll get your look in.’

  Murdoch wondered where Reger was, if he had reached his destination before hostilities had commenced, and what he would feel about a British army marching into Johannesburg to dictate peace. He decided to see if Rosetta had heard anything of him and took himself into town.

  He found Mrs Dredge in a state of high indignation. ‘That President Kruger,’ she declared, ‘I always knew he was not to
be trusted. You can see it in his face. I mean, going to war like this. Giving us an ultimatum! I hope they put him in prison.’

  ‘They have to catch him first,’ her husband remarked.

  ‘Will the Boers invade Cape Colony, Murdoch?’ Rosetta asked, her huge eyes glooming at him.

  ‘There’s little chance of that,’ he promised her. ‘Not with us here.’

  ‘It is so reassuring, having an English regiment actually camped outside the town,’ Mrs Dredge agreed. ‘Why don’t you take Mr Mackinder for a walk in the garden, Rosetta?’

  Murdoch took the hint and escorted the young lady outside, into the cool of the evening, when within seconds they were out of sight of the house behind a stand of tall cypreses. ‘Have you heard from Paul?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, no. I did not really expect to, whatever he promised. Have you?’

  ‘No. I suppose there is no way a letter could get through, now. I hope he is all right.’

  ‘Why should he not be?’

  ‘Well, he’s in an alien country, in time of war...’

  ‘You liked him, didn’t you?’ she asked, gazing at the ground as they walked.

  ‘Why, yes, I did, very much. Didn’t you?’

  ‘Oh.’ She gave a little shiver. ‘He frightened me.’

  ‘Frightened you?’

  ‘He could be so intense. So...’ She glanced at him, blushing prettily. ‘Not like you.’

  ‘You don’t find me intense?’ He had always thought of himself as a most intense person.

  Rosetta gave a pretty little laugh. ‘You? Oh, you are just sweet.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said, somewhat disconcerted.

  ‘And far too handsome to be a soldier.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said again, more disconcerted yet.

  ‘Now I have been improper. It’s just that...will you really have to go and fight, Murdoch?’

  ‘Well, I sincerely hope so. I mean, this is what we came all this way for.’

  ‘But isn’t it better not to fight?’

  ‘Well...I suppose, if the other fellow surrenders. But if he always did that, where would one get any glory? Achieve any fame?’

  ‘Oh, you men!’ She threw both arms round his neck and kissed him on the mouth. For a moment he was too surprised to react, then his arms went round her and he held her against him, discovering for the first time in his life all the beauty of a woman in his arms. She stayed there for several seconds, moving her body against his, making him more aware of himself than he had ever been before, then she pulled away, her cheeks pink. Will you come to see me again tomorrow?’ she asked, panting.

  ‘Well, of course. If I can. But...’

  ‘If you could come in the afternoon,’ she said, ‘Mother goes to her whist game every Tuesday afternoon. And Father will be at the office.’ Her cheeks were pinker yet, and her breasts were heaving.

  ‘Oh, I...’ He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected anything quite so sudden and so determined, and he was in any event utterly confused.

  ‘You might be going to get killed,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Oh. Yes, I suppose I might. But what about Paul?’

  ‘Oh, him...he’s a German. He can get killed any time he likes.’ She kissed him again. ‘Tomorrow,’ she said. ‘About three. Don’t worry about the servants. I’ll send them away.’

  *

  He returned to camp in a mood half of euphoria and half of alarm. It was not merely the newness of the experience for him, the amazing realisation that he had indeed taken a giant step beyond the ken of Messrs Morton, Hobbs and Chapman, so much as the revelation that this delightful bundle of femininity actually seemed to find him more attractive than Paul Reger—something he could never have believed had he not had the evidence of his own senses. And now she wanted...he was not at all sure what she wanted. But he couldn’t help feeling that she was going to get it, and that once she had she would regard him as entirely hers. He went to bed uncertain what he wanted most, to ride up to the frontier as quickly as possible to fight the Boers, or remain here and enjoy Rosetta Dredge.

  The decision was made for him the following morning, when the officers were assembled by Colonel Edmonds to hear some very grave news.

  ‘Word has just been received from Natal,’ the colonel told them, ‘that the situation there is extremely serious. The so-called victories which Sir George White claimed at Elandslaagte and Talana were mirages. The Boers were apparently not actually beaten, but merely withdrew and regrouped. It seems that they possess some keen tactical brains under those slouch hats. Anyway, the long and the short of it is that Sir George White, far from driving the invaders out of the colony, has reported that he is himself now bottled up in Ladysmith by superior Boer forces.’ He raised his head to look at the faces in front of him. ‘In fact, gentlemen, apart from some isolated units in Natal, and the small garrisons at De Aar and Belmont along the railway line, this regiment is the only British force in South Africa which possesses any freedom of movement. In these circumstances, I have been instructed by the Governor of Cape Colony to revert to my original orders, and proceed to De Aar as rapidly as possible, both to reinforce the garrison there, and to repel the Boer invasion, which can be expected at any moment, following their success in the east. The regiment will therefore move out at dawn.’

  ‘But shouldn’t we be moving to Natal, to help Sir George White?’ inquired Lieutenant Chapman.

  ‘Sir George White is quite confident of holding Ladysmith until the arrival of reinforcements,’ Edmonds told him. ‘He commands several thousand men. No, no, despite these temporary Boer victories, I have no doubt that Sir Redvers Buller, who will be in the Cape any day now, will hold to the original plan and use his army corps to attack the Boers from the west. That is the quickest and surest way to relieve the pressure on Natal. Our immediate duty is to secure the railway and the border, and await the arrival of the rest of the corps. Prepare your commands, gentlemen. And as of this moment, all leave is cancelled.’

  ‘You won’t be able to say goodbye to your little friend,’ Morton remarked as they walked back to their tents.

  ‘I have already done so,’ Murdoch lied. He had had no idea Morton even knew where he went on his visits to town.

  ‘Quite a dark horse, aren’t you, old man,’ Morton commented. ‘Where do you suppose your German friend is now?’

  ‘Probably with the Boers.’

  ‘Well, then, I may have the pleasure of putting a bullet through his brain. Or would you rather have that privilege?’

  ‘I am sure you will do it very, well,’ Murdoch replied, determined to be quite as relaxed about the whole thing as his more experienced compatriot.

  *

  The journey north was to be undertaken by the Cape Railway. Several armoured trucks had been provided in which men and horses could be sheltered from any Boer sharpshooters. The procedure was that five troops were taken in the train, and one troop, rotated daily, rode out ahead as an advance guard and to make sure no one interfered with the track.

  It took the regiment ten days to reach De Aar junction, as they covered no more than sixty miles a day, owing to the required stoppages for water and to exercise the horses—but of course even this was far faster than they could have ridden and still arrived in a fit state for action. And it was a most delightful journey. The first two days, where the line from Cape Town took an odd turn up to Gouda in the north-west, were through rolling grasslands, such as the country in which they had spent the last month, but as they reached Worcester on the second afternoon, they were already nearly a thousand feet above sea level, with much higher mountains—the Hexrivierberge to their left and the peak of Keeromsberg to their right—towering above them. Wherever they passed a settlement or a station there were cheering crowds gathered by the line to wave them on, but they could never forget, both from the names of most of the villages and the complexions of most of the people, that they were already in Boer country, even if these Boers were living in apparent contentme
nt under British rule.

  Next day the line crawled up into the mountains proper, and there were fewer people to be seen. Now they looked up at great peaks such as the Matroosberg of more than twenty thousand feet. On the fifth day, after leaving Laingsburg, they emerged on to the plain of the Great Karroo, well over a thousand feet above sea level, ringed by far higher peaks, and yet a totally monotonous carpet of grassland which seemed to stretch forever. Here humanity was almost non-existent, as was fresh water, although they saw huge areas of salt-pans shimmering in the midday heat. The horses suffered badly.

  Murdoch was surprised by the scarcity of game, although he realised that the scrub-like vegetation would hardly support any large numbers of animals. He had hoped to see some lion, but if there were any on the high veldt, they were keeping away from the railway track and the puffing train. In any event, he was more concerned with the coming day, when, as junior subaltern, he would finally lead his troop out as the advance guard.

  They spent the fifth night at Beaufort West Station, where the mountains before them seemed to form a solid wall, and next morning, when the train had been watered, B Troop was called out by bugle and stood to their horses.

  ‘Your orders are as before, Lieutenant Mackinder,’ said Major Craufurd. ‘You will proceed ten miles in front of the train, with flankers out, and you will ascertain that the track remains in good order and that there are no enemy forces in the vicinity.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Murdoch saluted, and faced his men. ‘Prepare to mount.’ The troop turned. ‘Mount.’

  The men swung into the saddle, Sergeant Bishop closed up behind him, and in column of twos they walked out of the little village, followed for the first half a mile by several small black boys and an equal number of yapping dogs. ‘Send your flankers out, Sergeant Bishop,’ Murdoch said.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Bishop acknowledged, and fell back to give the necessary orders, while Murdoch gazed at the scrub and the rising land in front of him in a sudden thrill of excitement. This was the first time he had been in independent command of his troop, other than on a field exercise. He watched two vultures soar out of some rocks perhaps half a mile away, and felt an immediate tightening of his muscles, an increase in his heartbeat. Of course they had not seen a sign of an enemy since leaving Cape Town, but they were certainly approaching closer to the frontier with every day, and no one knew for certain where the Boers actually were; this line stretched all the way to Kimberley and then Mafeking, following as it did the western boundary of the Orange Free State. If the Boers were considering an invasion of Cape Colony, and had pushed out their, patrols south of the Orange River, there was no telling when he might be fired on; he kept mentally rehearsing all the drill he had learned and committed to memory, over and over again.

 

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