Jack Lane – Gevangene op St Helena
John (Jack) Moody Lane is gebore in Ulster, Ierland, en word later ‘n Suid-Afrikaanse burger. As ‘n winkelier in die gehuggie van Hartbeesfontein in die Wes-Transvaal was hy steeds getrou aan die Britse saak en het streng strafmaatreëls in die gesig gestaar as hy nie saam met sy kommando sou oorlog toe gaan nie. Hy was egter vasbeslote om nie teen sy moederland te veg nie en word dus in beheer geplaas van die ammunisie in die hooflaer van Generaal Piet Cronjé, adjunk-kommandant-generaal van die Republiek, in bevel van al die Boeremagte aan die Suidwestelike front.
‘n Bladsy uit Jack Lane se Dagboek
Hy was nie net gekant teen Kruger en ‘Krugerism’ nie, maar was ook ontstoke omdat hy opgekommandeer was. Hy kritiseer baie van wat hy sien en hoor oor Cronjé in sy dagboek. Hierdie siening maak sy skryfwerk uniek en ongeëwenaard deur enige ander dagboekskrywer in die kampe van die Boere. Hy het baie introspeksie, selfbejammering en besorgdheid oor sy Boervrou en hul groot familie. Tog kan hy vir homself lag oor sy posisie en wat hy byna daagliks van die verwaande generaal sien.
Ondanks sy duidelike vooroordeel, bevat sy beskrywings van die lewe in die laer en ‘posisies’ baie inligting van belang. Sy twee-sin skets van die Comte de Villebois-Mareuil is van die beste van sy soort, asook sy beskrywing van die chaotiese onttrekking uit Magersfontein en die nege dae van artillerie aanvalle waarna die Boere by Paardeberg oorgegee het.
Die slag van Paardeberg (Bron: SA Nasionale Militêre Museum)
Verwoesting na die Slag van Paardeberg
Die redakteur van hierdie volume (sy kleinseun) stel die regte konteks deur feite, sienings en menings aan die leser te lewer, insluitend dié wat uit ander kontemporêre verslae voortspruit, argiefmateriaal, familiebriewe en standaard geskiedenis. Daar word ook verwys na die tyd wat Jack spandeer as gevangene op St. Helena en die feit dat hy na die oorlog gekies is om as lid van ‘n afvaardiging van Boere saam met hul vrouens na Kanada, Australië en Nieu-Seeland te toer, om te rapporteer oor ‘Landbou in die Ryk’. Jack het na die oorlog sy dagboek in die sorg van sy oudste broer in Ulster gelaat.
In 1922 word hy die Medalje voor de Anglo-Boere Oorlog, 1899-1902 toegeken wat sy dienste as Opperwachtmeester erken.
UITTREKSEL VANUIT DIE TEKS
The British are now charging at all points, seems to be a combined attempt to get home, men rushing about from one place to another. North sends to West for help, and vice versa, here you hear a cry they are thro another we have beaten them back, certainly this last half hour has been the warmest I have seen so far. I think the British have gained no points. I see several of the burghers dead and wounded. The fire is hot, shells now flying in earnest. The ‘Zip, Zip; of the Lee Metfords as it goes close by you, sometimes in the ground sending sand all over your face. Sometimes I imagined I was hit and said now I have got it. Men come running from the trenches, saying ammunition was running short. I had to go over river, to show them where it was and got several boxes over under difficulties, the river strong and the boxes heavy, several boxes fell into river but suppose when it goes down will be able to get them again, or rather I should say the British I think will have that pleasure. Had hardly got into cover, when a lyddite burst just on the top of us, painting us a nice olive green colour.
About four o’clock, the British commenced their charging tactics again, all round at every point. About five hundred yards lower down the river our pom pom is placed on the opposite side to what lam and has started firing at the rate of about forty five per minute, on a body of British advancing. I have a good view. Immediately behind where pom pom is placed, the whole space is covered with horses, mules, oxen and sheep, all crowded together Just like a shower of hail the shrapnel burst, one after the other from the British, mowing the poor brutes down just as a reaper would mow wheat, when the stuff knocked up by these shells cleared away you could see nothing but dead cattle covering a radius of a hundred yards, some giving the last kicks and struggle of death, and horses on their backs with their legs stretched up in the air. And I see five men also lying who were running down the river bank to seek shelter. It is an awful sight. The reason of this special fusillade on this particular spot is, the British have evidently located the pom pom and concentrated a whole battery’s fire on it. If one gets in close proximity of where one of our guns are, you have a warm time of it, as the British never leave off till they have either silenced it, or it has been removed. They hardly leave a yard of ground without a shell falling on it, so well do they search the place.
I get sight of Smith on the other side of river (he and Fuller having left me about an hour ago) corning up along river bank. As he was just opposite me, a shrapnel burst right over him covering him with stuff, the bullets striking all round him. I don’t know why he did not get hit. He seemed quite stupefied as I shouted time after time to him to take shelter, he simply stood there bewildered. At last he heard me, and takes shelter where he remained for a good hour — could not get out. The laager is now properly on fire, every other wagon burning. I crossed river again, to see about ammunition just before sundown and Smith came back with me. We stopped here until seven o’clock, when firing ceased. Over, I hope, for the day.
The loss on our side, I hear, is heavy; but number not known, nor do I think will ever be. If you find one dead, you try to make a hole and put the body in. Some of them barely covered. So lots are killed that nothing will be ever known of till after the war. What the British loss is, I cannot say, but it must be heavy. We come over to wagon and start making food, had nothing since this morning. All round wagon, dead horses, mules, oxen and sheep, the stench is beginning.
Having satisfied the inner man, I go up to laager, or rather, what was the laager, which is all on fire, the night is dark. The flames making a grand sight, very few wagons are left intact, a sad sight, nothing but the irons laying red hot on ground. I see General, who gives order all remaining ammunition is to be loaded off wagon, and spread here and there over ground. Ask General, ‘Are we not going to push on tonight out of this Hell?’ Says, ’Decidedly not? I am surprised at this, as one point is still open, which, he could, I think, get thro’ By tomorrow we will be so completely surrounded. Then no chance of getting out, nor do I think he will even try. De Wet, he says, with reinforcements will release us, but in my opinion Cronjé must do something on his part. The British have all the hills in their possession and will be able to keep back any help that may come from outside to release us. Have just seen all ammunition loaded off and each box about three yards apart, this makes the chance less of being blown up. I am thoroughly done up, make a bed in the best way I can, in close proximity to a lot of dead mules and oxen. The stench is awful. It is the best place I can get. My feet are touching the dead animals. I am off to a sort of sleep.
February 19 Monday
Awakened long before dawn and could not get to sleep again. A sort of uneasy feeling and thinking of all events of yesterday’s fight. About daybreak, General sent his Secretary, Kaiser, with a flag of truce to the British lines on our right, asking for forty eight hours armistice in order to get our wounded into some place of safety or shelter, as they are lying all over the place in the different trenches (I think there is a bit of ‘Schlenter’ in this). So long as Secretary is away with flag of truce, we know there will be no firing, so took the opportunity of going a bit round. (The British will be fools if they grant this armistice as asked for).
Redakteur
William Lane is gebore in Potchefstroom in die Transvaal-distrik. Sy skoolloopbaan begin by ‘n Afrikaans-medium plaasskool in dieselfde distrik, en hy matrikuleer aan St. John’s Kollege in Johannesburg. Tydens die Tweede Wêreld Oorlog dien hy in die Koninklike Britse Vloot, waarna hy grade ontvang in Kunste aan Rhodes Universiteit en in Regte aan die Universiteit van die Oranje-Vrystaat.
Hy het gewerk as ‘n interne prokureur en as advokaat by die Johannesburgse balie. Die grootste deel van sy professionele loopbaan was in ‘n toonaangewende prokureursfirma in Johannesburg waarvan hy senior vennoot geword het. In die dae voor spesialisering dien hy kliënte, belangstellings en sake in verskeie aspekte.
Hy word groot in ‘n omgewing en familie wat nog wonde van die Anglo-Boere Oorlog dra. Sy belangstelling in die oorlog word aangewakker deur die ontdekking van sy Ulster-gebore oupa se dagboek in Ierland. Laasgenoemde het gedien in die kommando’s van Generaal Piet Cronjé op die slagvelde van Modderrivier, Magersfontein en Paardeberg.
Die dagboek se vyandigheid jeens die Boere en hul saak het vrae van geloofwaardigheid laat ontstaan. In terme van regverdigheid, nie net teenoor die geskiedkundige rekords nie, maar ook teenoor die afstammelinge van verskillende politieke oortuigings, was verdere navorsing noodsaaklik. Dit, en sy professionele verbintenisse, het ‘n vertraging in die publikasie deur ‘n uitgewer van onbetwisbare onafhanklikheid veroorsaak.