was one column on the other. We could hardly engage any of these
columns successfully during the day, for no sooner had the fight begun
than reinforcements would come from all directions, making our position
quite untenable.

It was in such circumstances that we planned a night attack on one of
the English camps nine miles east of Gastron. We had engaged the enemy
on several occasions without desirable results. Our limited supply of
ammunition was gradually exhausted. Come what would, we were bound to
strike a blow at the enemy, so as to fill our bandoliers once more. The
night was the only time we could hope to succeed. Reinforcements would
not then scatter us before we had achieved our object.

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 dauntles