by Celia Sandys
Hanging on the walls of what had been Churchill’s dormitory, now preserved under glass, are coloured campaign maps. The cartographer, encouraged by Churchill, had been Lieutenant Thomas Frankland. Under Churchill’s eager eye these maps were maintained in order that the inmates could follow the course of the war. How, I wondered, was the necessary information obtained? Haldane noted that Churchill ‘received many visitors with whom animated discussions on the all-absorbing topic of the war were engaged in’. Churchill wrote that he ‘received them sitting on my bed in the dormitory, and when they had lighted cigars, of which I always kept a stock, we had a regular “durbar” ’. These visitors, who included the Transvaal Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs Mr Grobelaar, the American Consul Mr Macrum and Reuters agent Mr Mackay, were no doubt the main sources of information; but it was two other legends which interested me most.
The first was of the Englishman who worked at the Pretoria post office, and used semaphore to signal from his house to the imprisoned officers in the school, which was just across the street. They would be alerted to look out by his granddaughter who, as if by accident, would bounce her ball over the railings, where an officer would retrieve it and return it to her. For fear of reprisals, the child’s father was said, on his deathbed, to have asked that the family name should never be revealed. The second concerned a man, mentioned by Haldane, who regularly walked his dog past the school and passed information to the officers. Now, so long after the events, there could be no fear attached to identifying these men, and I appealed to any descendants to provide names to go with these stories.
The story which emerged contained elements of both legends. It was given to me by William Atteridge, who had heard it from his uncle Richard Xavier Atteridge. The latter had emigrated from Newcastle upon Tyne to South Africa, where had become a naturalised burgher, and had worked as a telegraphist in the Pretoria post office. On the outbreak of war he had been called up, but, unwilling to fight against his former countrymen, had fled to Natal. On his return after the war he learned that a friend of his in the post office, a Mr Patterson, had passed information to the British officers in the school when he walked his dog past the railings. If guards were within earshot, he had patted the dog’s head in Morse code. For fear of his being branded a traitor by his colleagues, Patterson’s family and Atteridge were for ever sworn to secrecy.
One evening, as Churchill stood taking the air on the Van der Walt Street side of the school, the whispered message from Patterson was that General Methuen, who was intent on relieving the beleaguered British garrison at Kimberley, had defeated the Boers at Belmont, sixty miles south of the besieged town On Frankland’s maps the red and green patches which represented the opposing forces were adjusted to take account of the good news. To Churchill there now seemed but one obstacle, the River Modder, between Methuen and his objective. Churchill felt confident that the siege of Kimberley would soon be lifted, and took delight in forecasting this when Louis de Souza came visiting the following day.
‘Who can tell?’ shrugged de Souza. He put his finger on the map. ‘There stands old Piet Cronje. We don’t think Methuen will get past him.’ Events would prove de Souza right. He was indicating the position of Magersfontein Hill, a significant tactical feature to which the amateur cartographers had paid insufficient attention.
When it was rumoured that there was to be an exchange of prisoners of war, Churchill attempted to make the most of the Transvaal government’s unwillingness to recognise him as a press correspondent. He wrote at once to the British Military Secretary in South Africa, Colonel Stopford: ‘Unless I am regarded for the purpose of exchange as a military officer, I am likely to fall between two stools. Pray do your best for me.’ By the time Stopford received the letter he was able to reply: ‘I am glad you do not need my help, wh I would have gladly given.’ Churchill had by then escaped, and was back with the British Army.
The escape was originally planned by Captain Haldane, in conjunction with Regimental Sergeant-Major Brockie of the Imperial Light Horse. Brockie had joined Churchill and Haldane on their way to Pretoria, having been taken prisoner while on patrol, and had passed himself off as a lieutenant in order to get better quarters. Haldane thought him essential to any escape plan, as he spoke Afrikaans, Dutch and Bantu.
On 1 December Haldane told Churchill about their escape plan, and eight days later, having given up any hope of early release, Churchill asked to join it. Haldane and Brockie were reluctant to accept him, as they thought that his presence would jeopardise their chances of getting clean away. By far the most prominent prisoner, Churchill would be missed within a few hours, while, because there was no regular roll-call, Haldane and Brockie’s absence might go unnoticed for much longer. They also thought, with some justification, that Churchill was less agile than they were, and that any difficulty he might have in scaling the prison fence could attract a sentry’s attention.
Under pressure, Haldane relented. He said he could not, in the face of Brockie’s opposition, actually invite Churchill to join them. However, he could hardly refuse his request, considering Churchill’s conduct during the ambush and his selflessness in not escaping with those he sent back on the engine. Having left the decision to Churchill, Haldane could not have been surprised when he chose to participate. Six months later, Haldane summed up the situation: ‘He suggested coming with us. We consented, though the certainty he would be missed lessened the chances of success.’ However, Haldane did not give Churchill any details of the planned escape route to Portuguese East Africa. He would be expected to conform to Haldane’s orders.
The escape was to be made from a circular-shaped latrine situated against the iron fence at the back of the school. The lighting left this spot in relative darkness, and only one sentry was in a position from which he could see anyone climbing the fence. There was a good chance of escape without detection during dinner, as it seemed to be the custom that at that hour the sentry moved along the enclosure to chat with another guard.
On 7 December, shortly before the planned escape, two soldier-servants, Privates Cahill and Bridge, successfully climbed the school fence, but were caught on the outskirts of Pretoria. Their escape was not reported to the prison authorities, who remained unaware of the event. The fact that Cahill and Bridge had got away encouraged Haldane to believe that their scheme would work, but the possibility that the incident might lead to the prison regime being tightened up added urgency to the plans now afoot.
Even as he was about to escape, Churchill was still pleading his case with the Boer authorities for his release as a non-combatant. In a letter to de Souza which he asked should be forwarded to General Joubert, Churchill offered to give ‘any parole that may be required not to serve against Republican forces or to give any information affecting the military situation’. The letter was intended to serve two purposes: should escape prove impossible, the plea for release might bear fruit; meanwhile, its tone would allay any suspicion that he was about to attempt to flee.
The letter would have arrived on Joubert’s desk soon after he had telegraphed the authorities in Pretoria about the proposed exchange of prisoners which had prompted Churchill to write to Colonel Stopford. Joubert’s telegram of 10 December had agreed to an exchange, but resolutely declined to include Churchill or any of the officers captured on the armoured train. Even as Churchill’s letter was causing Joubert to have second thoughts, its writer was testing the prison’s perimeter.
During the evening of 11 December Haldane and Churchill strolled separately to the latrine. Brockie, carrying maps and compass, was to follow. Churchill had left a cheeky letter to Louis de Souza on his pillow. To throw the authorities off the scent, he implied that the escape was made with the help of outside assistance.
I do not consider that your Government was justified in holding me . . . and I have consequently resolved to escape. The arrangements I have succeeded in making in conjunction with my friends outside are such as give me every confidence. But I wish
in leaving you thus hastily & unceremoniously to once more place on record my appreciation of the kindness which has been shown me and the other prisoners by you, by the Commandant and by Dr. Gunning and my admiration of the chivalrous and humane character of the Republican forces. My views on the general question of the war remain unchanged, but I shall always retain a feeling of high respect for the several classes of the burghers I have met and, on reaching the British lines I will set forth a truthful & impartial account of my experiences in Pretoria. In conclusion I desire to express my obligations to you, and to hope that when this most grievous and unhappy war shall have come to an end, a state of affairs may be created which shall preserve at once the national pride of the Boers and the security of the British and put a final stop to the rivalry & enmity of both races. Regretting that circumstances have not permitted me to bid you a personal farewell, Believe me
Yours vy sincerely
Winston S. Churchill
As a touch of humour, he had written the letters ‘p.p.c.’ (pour prendre congé - to take my leave) on the envelope. Unfortunately, the letter had to be retrieved, as that evening the sentry refused to budge from the very spot over which Churchill and Haldane intended to climb. They postponed their attempt for twenty-four hours.
The next day, 12 December, General Joubert telegraphed Reitz, the State Secretary, withdrawing his objections to Churchill’s release. He had wearied of discussing the pros and cons of holding or setting free this troublesome prisoner, and had noted Churchill’s promise that if released he would not serve against the Boers. Although he remained sceptical, he had taken at face value Churchill’s hints that, having been well treated, his dispatches would scarcely be to the Boers’ disadvantage. Joubert’s lengthy telegram balanced Churchill’s protestations that he was a non-combatant against his exploits, which had been fulsomely reported in the world press. It concluded: ‘if I accept his word, then my objections to his release cease . . . I have no further objections to his being set free, without our accepting somebody in exchange. P.J. Joubert, Commandant. P.S. Will he tell the truth? He will also be a chip off the old block.’ The postscript was a reference to Lord Randolph’s criticism of the Boer administration when he had visited the Transvaal in 1891.
Joubert had dithered too long, and his telegram had yet to reach the authorities in Pretoria when Churchill once more placed his letter to de Souza on his pillow and together with Haldane made a second attempt to escape. Once again, though, they judged the circumstances too hazardous. The sentry remained in a position from which it was likely he would see them climbing the fence, and if he opened fire he could hardly miss at such short range. They returned to the verandah, and Haldane explained the situation to Brockie, who replied, ‘You’re afraid.’
Letter written to Louis de Souza by Churchill prior to his escape. (Hugh de Souza)
Louis de Souza, Transvaal Secretary of State for War, and his wife Marie.
Sergeant Major Brockie.
The Revd Adrian Hofmeyr.
LEFT John Howard’s house at the Transvaal and Delagoa Bay Colliery.
FAR LEFT John Howard, mine manager.
The mine shaft down which Churchill was hidden.
Daniel Dewsnap, mine engineer.
The watch presented to Dewsnap by Churchill for having assisted in his escape.
Churchill (to right of bending man in straw hat) about to disembark from the Induna in Durban.
Churchill on the jetty in Durban.
Churchill making the first of his two speeches in Durban.
Churchill in Durban – with the cowboy hat he purchased in Lourenço Marques.
Cigarette card issued after Churchill’s escape.
LEFT Churchill commissioned as a Lieutenant in the South African Light Horse.
BELOW Churchill visits the wreck of the armoured train.
Major-General the Earl of Dundonald, who commanded a locally raised cavalry brigade.
Anna Beyers, who served Churchill in her uncle’s farm shop, and who told the story of him chasing a chicken.
Lieutenant-General Sir Charles Warren.
‘See for yourself,’ said Haldane, whereupon Brockie walked across the yard to the latrine. When, after some time, he had not returned, Churchill went in search of him. He found him at the latrine entrance, about to make his way back. When Brockie reached the waiting Haldane he angrily reported, ‘That damned fool Churchill wanted to stop and talk in earshot of the sentry. I told him it was useless to try to escape then.’
Churchill could see another night being wasted. Determined to clinch the matter once and for all, he waited in the latrine until the sentry turned away, then scrambled over the fence, only for his waistcoat to become entangled with the ornamental metalwork. He glanced at the sentry, who was now cupping his hands to light a cigarette, tore his clothes free and lowered himself to the ground. There, among a few shrubs in the garden of an adjoining house, he awaited Haldane and Brockie. It was a quarter past seven.
Time passed. At a quarter to eight the moon rose. Churchill was still crouched in the deep shadows, anxious and impatient to know what the other two intended. A man came out of the house and stood within a few yards of him, then a companion joined him and lit a cigar, before they both moved off together. They stopped when a cat, being chased by a dog, let out a screech of alarm on colliding with the crouching Churchill. Having seen the cat emerge from the shrubs, with the dog still in pursuit, the men walked through the gate and on into the street.
There are inconsistencies in the details of the various accounts of what happened during the time Churchill was hiding in the shrubs. In his dispatch to the Morning Post he mentioned two British officers who came to the fence an hour after he had clambered over it and, amid a jabber of nonsense in Latin, mentioned his name. He risked a cough, and having established contact, learned that Haldane and Brockie could not escape. He explained that he could not get back over the fence, and would therefore go on alone. In My Early Life he gave much the same version.
He wrote a more detailed account in 1912 in connection with a libel action against Blackwood’s Magazine, which had alleged that in escaping alone Churchill had abandoned his friends. This account, presumably written for the benefit of his lawyers, was never published. In it he wrote that he waited in the garden for more than an hour and a half for Haldane and Brockie to join him, and that fifteen minutes after he had got over the fence he had attracted the attention of a prisoner and asked that they should be told to follow as soon as possible. The two came to the fence, but as Haldane attempted to scale it he was challenged by a sentry, and returned to the main building. Churchill put this at about half an hour after he had climbed over. He continued to wait, and at length heard tapping on the other side of the fence. Going close to it, he spoke with Haldane, who said there could be no further attempt that night, and that Churchill should go on alone. Haldane’s version, written in 1935, does not differ materially from this account. It merely adds that, having made a further unsuccessful attempt to scale the fence undetected, he offered to throw Churchill the maps and the compass, but that he declined for fear that the noise would alert the nearby sentry.
Putting all versions together and accepting the common elements, it is clear that after Churchill had scrambled over the fence Haldane and Brockie, unaware of his success, had gone to supper. They subsequently returned, and when they were prevented by a sentry from escaping, Haldane agreed that the only course was for Churchill to go on alone.
Churchill put on a slouch hat he had acquired from Adrian Hofmeyr and had adorned at the last moment with a puggaree of the Transvaal colours. He walked casually through the garden, passing within five yards of the sentry, and out into the street. There were plenty of people about at that hour, but none paid any attention to the man humming a tune as he walked down the centre of Skinner Street.
NINE
Controversy
‘My conscience is perfectly clear on the whole episode; I acted with perfect comr
adeship and honour the whole way through.’
WINSTON CHURCHILL, quoted in Randolph S. Churchill,
Winston S. Churchill, VOLUME I
THE DAILY ENTRIES IN Adrian Hofmeyr’s diary describe the boring nature of life for the prisoners in the States Model School. But in the entry for 13 December 1899, the tenor changes abruptly: ‘Great excitement. Churchill escaped last night.’ Hofmeyr’s The Story of My Captivity describes the consternation caused by Churchill’s disappearance: ‘Yes it was a great to-do: it stopped the whole machinery of state. It paralysed the officials. It seemed to me that even the war was forgotten.’
Marie de Souza’s diary also reflected the mood in Pretoria: ‘Wednesday 13th. An exciting day! Mr Churchill escaped last night & it was only discovered at 10.30am! He must have bribed the guards who are policemen! There are 18 around the building . . . I am afraid of the consequences which may fall on the other prisoners.’
After Churchill had gone, Haldane and others had made up his bed so that it appeared to be occupied. So effective was the deception that early on the morning of the thirteenth a soldier-servant, failing with a discreet cough to wake the sleeper, left the usual early-morning cup of coffee on a chair beside the bed.
* * *
I discussed Churchill’s escape with Herman van Cittert, the son of Johannes van Cittert, who had been a seventeen-year-old guard at the States Model School. The young Boer had thought Churchill ‘a cheeky man who was very upset at finding himself a prisoner. He was a stroppy sort of fellow who was always causing a fuss.’ Of the actual escape, Johannes van Cittert had said, ‘As I recall it, he went to the lavatory and didn’t come back.’ He went on to describe the confusion that ensued the following morning: ‘The discovery that Churchill was missing might have been long delayed had Henri Adelaar, the barber, not called. He was to shave Churchill and collect fifteen cents owed for a shave and haircut the previous day. Escorted by a policeman, he received no answer to his knock on Churchill’s door. He then dashed about the building, asking if anyone had seen his customer. The other prisoners were not very helpful, directing the barber to the most unlikely places. Eventually the policeman realised the prisoner was missing.’
