In the Ranks of the C.I.V.

In the Ranks of the C.I.V.

Project Gutenberg's In the Ranks of the C.I.V., by Erskine Childers
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: In the Ranks of the C.I.V.
Author: Erskine Childers
Release Date: August 20, 2004 [EBook #13235]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE
RANKS OF THE C.I.V. ***

Produced by Clare Boothby, Ben Harris and PG Distributed
Proofreaders

[Illustration: Photo by Arthur Weston, 16, Poultry, London.]

IN THE RANKS OF THE C.I.V.

A NARRATIVE AND DIARY OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES
WITH THE C.I.V. BATTERY (HONOURABLE ARTILLERY
COMPANY) IN SOUTH AFRICA
BY DRIVER ERSKINE CHILDERS CLERK IN THE HOUSE OF
COMMONS
WITH A FRONTISPIECE
1900

DEDICATED TO MY FRIEND AND COMRADE GUNNER BASIL
WILLIAMS

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER
I.
THE "MONTFORT"
II. CAPETOWN AND STELLENBOSCH
III. PIQUETBERG ROAD
IV. BLOEMFONTEIN
V. LINDLEY
VI. BETHLEHEM
VII. BULTFONTEIN
VIII. SLABBERT'S NEK AND FOURIESBERG

IX. TO PRETORIA
X. WARMBAD
XI. HOSPITAL
XII. A DETAIL
XIII. SOUTH AGAIN
XIV. CONCLUSION

IN THE RANKS OF THE C.I.V.
CHAPTER I.
THE "MONTFORT."
A wintry ride--Retrospect--Embarkation--A typical day--"Stables" in
rough weather--Las Palmas--The tropics--Inoculation--Journalism--
Fashions--"Intelligent anticipation"--Stable-guard--Arrival.
With some who left for the War it was "roses, roses, all the way." For
us, the scene was the square of St. John's Wood Barracks at 2 A.M. on
the 3rd of February, a stormy winter's morning, with three inches of
snow on the ground, and driving gusts of melting flakes lashing our
faces. In utter silence the long lines of horses and cloaked riders filed
out through the dimly-lit gateway and into the empty streets, and we
were off at last on this long, strange journey to distant Africa. Six
crowded weeks were behind us since the disastrous one of Colenso, and
with it the news of the formation of the C.I.V., and the incorporation in
that regiment of a battery to be supplied by the Honourable Artillery
Company, with four quick-firing Vickers-Maxim guns. Then came the
hurried run over from Ireland, the application for service, as a driver,
the week of suspense, the joy of success, the brilliant scene of
enlistment before the Lord Mayor, and the abrupt change one raw
January morning from the ease and freedom of civilian life, to the

rigours and serfdom of a soldier's. There followed a month of constant
hard work, riding-drill, gun-drill, stable work, and every sort of manual
labour, until the last details of the mobilization were complete,
uniforms and kit received, the guns packed and despatched; and all that
remained was to ride our horses to the Albert Docks; for our ship, the
Montfort, was to sail at mid-day.
Hardships had begun in earnest, for we had thirteen miles to ride in the
falling snow, and our hands and feet were frozen. As we filed through
the silent streets, an occasional knot of night-birds gave us a thin cheer,
and once a policeman rushed at me, and wrung my hand, with a fervent
"Safe home again!" Whitechapel was reached soon enough, but the
Commercial Road, and the line of docks, seemed infinite.
However, at six we had reached the ship, and lined up into a great shed,
where we took off and gave up saddles and head-collars, put on canvas
head-stalls, and then enjoyed an excellent breakfast, provided by some
unknown benefactor. Next we embarked the horses by matted
gangways (it took six men to heave my roan on board), and ranged
them down below in their narrow stalls on the stable-deck. Thence we
crowded still further down to the troop-deck--one large low-roofed
room, edged with rows of mess-tables. My entire personal
accommodation was a single iron hook in a beam. This was my
wardrobe, chest of drawers, and an integral part of my bed; for from it
swung the hammock. We were packed almost as thickly as the horses;
and that is saying a great deal. The morning was spent in fatigue duties
of all sorts, from which we snatched furtive moments with our friends
on the crowded quay. For hours a stream of horses and mules poured
up the gangways; for two other corps were to share the ship with us, the
Oxfordshire Yeomanry and the Irish Hospital. At two the last farewells
had been said, and we narrowed our thoughts once more to all the
minutiæ of routine. As it turned out, we missed that tide, and did not
start till two in the next morning; but I was oblivious of such a detail,
having been made one of the two "stablemen" of my sub-division, a
post