Of all the British officers involved in the Second Anglo-Afghan War, Roberts did most of the fighting. As indicated earlier, he correctly pointed out that his march with the Kurram Field Force to Kabul in October 1879 was in more than one way a more important (and much more difficult and risky) military feat (as was Stewart’s march from Kandahar to Kabul in April–May 1880). However, his renowned march ‘from Kabul to Kandahar’, with its alliterative ring, captured the imagination of the British public. The British army’s defeat at Maiwand had refocussed the attention of the British public on Afghanistan, and Roberts’s march (re-)attracted the attention of the British press and public like nothing else in the war had done.57 The effect of his march can be likened to the way in which the defence of Rorke’s Drift in the Anglo-Zulu War of 1879 counterbalanced the defeat suffered by the British at Isandlwana. Almost overnight, Roberts became a popular public hero, but also a rival (and logical successor) to Wolseley, who at that stage was QMG of the British army.
To defeat the Afghans militarily was one thing; to control them was something else. Fearing that they could once again become victims of Afghan retaliation (as was the case towards the end of the First Anglo-Afghan War), the Liberal Party that came to power in Britain in March 1881 decided to withdraw from Afghanistan. So the Second Anglo-Afghan War was indeed a Pyrrhic victory for Britain, and somewhat of an embarrassment – and it destroyed or tarnished several military and political careers. For ‘Bobs Bahadur’ (Bobs the Hero/the Brave), however, it was a triumph. He was fêted as the saviour of British prestige in Afghanistan, and was showered with honours and rewards. The Kabul–Kandahar march was the defining event of the Second Anglo-Afghan War and Roberts’s career. It set him up for the important role he was to play in India and elsewhere in the years to follow; more than twenty years later, another of his marches would catch the British public’s imagination and world media’s attention, when he outmanoeuvred the Boer citizen armies in South Africa.
Plan of the battle of Paardeberg, 1900. (From David James, Lord Roberts, London: Hollis & Carter, 1954)
Paardeberg, 190058
In the course of the twenty years that separated Roberts’s role at Kandahar and Paardeberg, the infantryman’s bayonet had been superseded by a modern rifle’s bullet, the invention of smokeless gunpowder had made it more difficult to pinpoint the enemy’s position and there had been an enormous increase in the range of guns and rifles – all the result of new technologies, with concomitant tactical implications for command and control in the battle space. As Roberts wrote to Lansdowne from Paardeberg: ‘Another point which affects military operations nowadays is the long range of modern weapons …’.59 In South Africa, Roberts for the first time faced a white foe, armed with modern rifles and artillery.
Paardeberg (the Dutch for ‘Horses(’s) Mountain’; in Afrikaans ‘Perdeberg’) lies just north of the Modder River, some 25 miles south-east of Kimberley and 70 miles west of Bloemfontein. The battle with and siege of General Pieter (Piet) Arnoldus Cronjé’s force that took place during 18–27 February 1900, centred around the Boer laager at and near Vandisiedrif, which is some 5 miles north-east upstream from Paardeberg, although the latter mountain, or rather hill, gave its name to this turning point in the Anglo-Boer War. Here forces led by two completely dissimilar men clashed. On the one hand was the huge professional and conventionally trained army of Roberts, a man who had made a name for himself internationally. And then there was Cronjé, a man with little formal education, who led a citizen army made up of ordinary burghers (citizens) with no formal military training. His ‘fame’ as a military commander rested on the fact that in 1896 he defeated Dr L S Jameson and his raiders.
At 2000, on 15 February 1900, at last realising that the British forces were outflanking him, Cronjé gave the order for his army (more than 4,000 men, many on foot, and 400 heavily laden wagons) to start moving away from Bossiespan, and to trek in the direction of Bloemfontein. His idea was to take up new defensive positions somewhere along the way, in an effort to stop Roberts’s advance. In the meantime, French, after relieving Kimberley on 15 February,60 was ordered by Roberts to take his cavalry to Koedoesrand in an effort to cut off Cronjé’s line of retreat. When Cronjé received notice of French’s movements, and with mounted infantry attacking the Boer rearguard, he decided to cross the Modder River at Vandisiedrif; but as the first wagons were about to move, the twelve guns that French had positioned north of the drift opened fire, and the Boers were forced to take cover. The Boer convoy was trapped, and Cronjé decided to try and stave off British attacks at Vandisiedrif as effectively as possible until relief arrived.
In the night of 17/18 February, the Boers dug in as best they could on the northern banks of the Modder River. In the meantime, Roberts had contracted influenza and stayed in bed at his headquarters in the town of Jacobsdal, some 30 miles from Paardeberg. In South Africa, Thomas Kelly-Kenny held the local rank of lieutenant general, while Kitchener was only a substantive major general.61 To clear up the command issue, a message was sent to Roberts at Jacobsdal, who sent a message back indicating that Kitchener’s orders were to be regarded as his (Roberts’s) orders.62 So, Kitchener was placed in command of the forces at Paardeberg. (By not giving Kitchener precise orders, Roberts has to take some of the blame for what happened in the next 24 hours.) Kitchener had at his disposal at least 15,000 soldiers with more than 50 guns. Fearing a Cronjé break-out and/or attacks by other Boer forces, he wanted to defeat the trapped Boers as soon as possible – and, of course, be honoured as the man who defeated Cronjé. For the first time in his career, Kitchener led troops in a battle against a white foe. He nevertheless threw caution to the wind, as well as the lessons learnt until that time in the war.
At 0300, on Sunday 18 February 1900, Kitchener ordered an attack from the east. At 0630, the British troops started frontal attacks northwards from Oskoppies (later referred to as Kitchener’s Kopje) under cover of a heavy artillery bombardment. With only four guns and a pom-pom,63 the Boer artillery was unable to neutralise the British guns, and soon many Boer wagons were on fire. Most of the burghers were unharmed in their shallow trenches and dug-outs, and when the attacking British troops were within range, they were stopped. Kitchener’s attacks from the south and west were unsuccessful. He then ordered another attack from the east, but that also failed. By mid-afternoon, with the British force’s poorly co-ordinated attacks having been beaten back, it seemed as if Kitchener (who was galloping up and down in a frenzied way) had lost control over the situation, shouting orders that led to more confusion.
At 1530, Colonel O C Hannay, following orders from Kitchener, led a final charge from the north-east against the Boer positions, taking only about fifty men with him on what he quite rightly regarded as a suicidal mission. They got to about 250yd from the laager, when they were cut down, Hannay being among those who were killed. In the light of the ‘Black Week’ defeats, no responsible commanding officer would have ordered frontal attacks across the open veldt against well dug-in Boers. But Kitchener did ensure that Cronjé’s force became immobile: many oxen and horses were killed, and all the other oxen and many horses were captured by the British. In a sense, 18 February sealed Cronjé’s fate. Total British casualties amounted to 303 killed, 906 wounded and 61 captured; i.e. more were lost than on any other single day of the war, making 18 February 1900 the bloodiest day of the conflict. In the laager, no more than seventy Boers became casualties. It was the first and last time that Kitchener lost a battle. He was not necessarily wrong in deciding to attack the Boers on 18 February, but he failed to prepare properly for the battle.64
Several Boer commandos made every possible effort to relieve the Boer laager. On the afternoon of 18 February, Generals Christiaan de Wet and Philip Botha arrived from the south and drove the British from Oskoppies, adding to Kitchener’s woes. So, an escape corridor had indeed been opened for the trapped Boer force, but the indecisive Cronjé refused to move. When news of the 18 February debacle r
eached Roberts at Jacobsdal, and when he heard that Kitchener planned to renew his attacks the next day, he found it necessary to get out of his sickbed at 0400 on 19 February and go to Paardeberg as quickly as possible in an effort to save the situation. Roberts arrived at the battlefield at about 1000, just in time to stop another frontal attack, which Kitchener was (against the advice of his fellow officers) about to launch. Roberts took stock of the situation, and – always fearful of incurring high losses – decided to settle for a siege, and concomitant bombardment. And on 22 February, Roberts sent Kitchener away to Naauwpoort, and from there to De Aar, to ensure that the main railway lines northwards from the Cape would be secure; and never again put him in charge of a pitched battle situation.
Roberts demanded unconditional surrender, which an indignant Cronjé rejected at 1300, on 19 February. Soon afterwards, Roberts ordered a heavy bombardment of the laager with the approximately eighty guns he now had at his disposal. The bombardment continued intermittently throughout the night of 19/20 February, and by the afternoon of 20 February the last Boer gun was put out of action. However, even if Roberts wanted to renew his attacks, it was not possible, because his troops were exhausted and hungry (they had to make do with half-rations, a result of the loss of Roberts’s transport at Watervalsdrif), field hospitals were overflowing and many officers were dead or wounded. The British bombardment continued on 21 February. The besieged Boers had to contend with the danger and terrible noise of incessant bombardment (which left them without sleep), the stench of the rotting carcasses of animals, the lack of sanitation in the confined space of the laager, thirst due to the lack of clean water and hunger because there was no time to prepare meals safely. And then there was the plight of the wounded. Many started to doubt whether there was any purpose in continued resistance.
On 22 February, Cronjé repeated a request for medical assistance, but Roberts denied it – his own army was beginning to suffer from a lack of adequate medical support. By 23 February, morale was not only low in the laager, but also in the ranks of those Boers who were outside and who were supposed to create a breakthrough to enable Cronjé to escape. Even De Wet had problems in rallying his burghers for another attack, which, when it eventually took place, failed (23 February). On the night of 24/25 February, De Wet sent his champion scout, Danie Theron, to Cronjé on a mission that took him through the British lines. Theron explained to Cronjé that De Wet was prepared to risk one last attack against the besieging forces, on condition that Cronjé attacked from the inside and tried to break out. Everything taken into consideration, it was probably asking too much from the exhausted trapped burghers (who were also, in most instances, left without horses). Among the ordinary burghers there was in any case little will left to continue resistance. Roberts’s tactics were having the envisaged effect.
The British artillery, guided by information supplied by an officer sent up in a (relatively new technology) balloon used for aerial observation, destroyed a ‘chain-bridge’ before anyone could cross. During the night of 25/26 February, a disappointed Theron slipped back through the British lines. The British bombardment continued on 26 February. Later that night, the British launched renewed attacks, and by sunrise on 27 February, some soldiers were only about 40yd away from the Boer perimeter. Even before the British artillery resumed their bombardment, a number of white flags were displayed along the Boer lines. By 0600, Cronjé had no other choice but to hoist a white flag above his headquarters. He then sent a note to Roberts, indicating that he surrendered unconditionally. At 0700, on 27 February 1900, the nineteenth anniversary of the Boer victory at Majuba (which had briefly brought Roberts to South Africa as a replacement for the killed Major General Colley), Cronjé met Roberts (girded with his Kandahar sword) at the latter’s headquarters, and formally surrendered.
Over and above the casualties sustained on 18 February during Kitchener’s abortive attempts to take the Boer laager Omdurman-style, Roberts’s force had lost 239 killed, 1,095 wounded, 67 missing and 2 captured. Cronjé’s total casualties (i.e. in the laager, including those suffered on 18 February) were at least 74 killed and 187 wounded, while 2,592 Transvaalers and 1,327 Orange Free Staters surrendered on 27 February and were sent to camps abroad. (The sixty-two captured women and children were soon set free.)
Paardeberg was in more ways than one Roberts’s greatest battle. Here he commanded more troops than in any of the battles he fought; for the first time he faced a white army armed with modern weapons; the battlefield was larger than any of those on which he had fought previously; the tactical challenges were huge (a famous Boer general was well dug in, which made conventional infantry and cavalry attacks costly; a famous upcoming Boer general was present outside the battlefield, trying to force open an escape route); and he won after a ten-day siege, inflicting the largest defeat ever on the Boer armies, proving that his indirect strategy was indeed successful, and (with hindsight) ensuring that although the Boers could still prolong the war, they could probably no longer win it. But, interestingly enough, Roberts was not present when Cronjé was trapped (17 February) or when the heaviest fighting took place (18 February). Had Roberts been there, the battle of 18 February might not have taken place. Nearly 300 miles away from the battlefield, news of Cronjé’s surrender inspired Buller’s troops, and late on that same day (27 February) a breakthrough was at long last effectuated at Pietershoogte. The next day, Ladysmith was relieved. So, the psychological effect of Roberts’s victory was far-reaching; and strategically the initiative was securely back in British hands (that is, until the guerrilla war gained momentum). One can argue that Roberts ensured the ultimate British victory by defeating Cronjé, and yet Paardeberg also set the scene for a prolonged conflict, because by drinking contaminated water from the Modder River at or in the vicinity of the battlefield, Roberts’s soldiers were infected with typhoid. Many of them died after the capture of Bloemfontein, and this disease, together with other factors, forced Roberts to halt for seven weeks before he could continue his advance, allowing the Boers to regroup and launch the guerrilla war. It is therefore an open question whether Roberts’s success should indeed be measured in terms of his military achievements at Paardeberg, or rather in terms of the enforced halt in Bloemfontein – at least partially the consequence of the ‘Paardeberg virus’.
If Cronjé had surrendered earlier, Kitchener would probably still have received some of the credit, having rendered Cronjé’s force immobile on 18 February. However, the fact that the siege continued for another nine days created expectations in the war zone and abroad, focussed attention on Paardeberg, and in a sense made Roberts’s eventual success all the greater, more dramatic and more important. And with Cronjé’s surrender, the Boer southern front collapsed, and soon the Boers also withdrew from around Ladysmith. Roberts had indeed, through the brilliant application of the strategy of indirect approach, brought about a turning point in the war, cementing his popular image as an outstanding field commander, although – as pointed out earlier – that is probably an oversimplification of his true value as a commander.
The man, whose physique made him an unlikely career soldier, indeed became one of the most famous men of his time and was regarded by many as the best general of the Victorian era. Roberts was a good administrator, a serious student of his profession, a hard worker and he led the British Army and soldiers from many British colonies with zeal. He was quite modern in his approach to military problems, a good tactician and at times a sound strategist, especially when he was inspired to do the unexpected (implementing an indirect strategy, for example). He had a genuine concern for the welfare of the ordinary troops, but did not shirk from driving them hard and relentlessly when circumstances demanded it. He firmly believed in the British Empire and all that it stood for, to a large extent embodied that empire, did not question imperial ideals (though it often had serious detrimental effects on the victims of imperialism, be it Afghan, Boer or other civilians) and went out of his way to further the goals and pr
estige of his empire, and of his Queen and Empress; in the process, of course, he also furthered his own career and fulfilled his consuming personal ambitions. He was a popular imperial hero, and widely admired in Britain, India and elsewhere: the British press and public were convinced he was a successful commanding officer, and they sung his praises; and the government, most of the time, agreed or played along. But Roberts knew how to manipulate the media and public opinion, and had the right political connections at the right time. A critical analysis of his campaigns and battles makes it clear that essentially he was not always that effective – sometimes he was just lucky, very lucky. But how many military leaders are not?
In the low-intensity conflict environment that characterised most of Queen Victoria’s ‘small wars’, Roberts was relatively speaking a good commander, and probably the most popular and best-loved of his Queen’s many generals. He was devoted to his profession, an admired and gallant soldier, a bold leader and a role model for many. But his fame was primarily based on three marches: Kushi to Kabul, Kabul to Kandahar and from the Modder River via Paardeberg and Bloemfontein to Pretoria. These marches were typical of the ‘small campaigns’ in which Queen Victoria’s generals fought.
Bibliography
The standard biography is still David James, Lord Roberts (London: Hollis & Carter, 1954). Earlier, shortly after Roberts died, the biography by Sir George Forrest, The Life of Lord Roberts, KG, VC (London: Cassell, 1914) appeared. At the height of his success in South Africa, 1900, the work by Violet Brooke-Hunt, Lord Roberts: A Biography (London: James Nisbet, n.d.) was published. Other biographies include Charles Rathbone Low, Major-General Sir Frederick S Roberts (London: W H Allen, 1883); Horace G Groser, Field-Marshal Lord Roberts, VC, KP, GCB, GCSI, GCIE (London: Andrew Melrose, 1900); the richly illustrated biography by J Maclaren Cobban, The Life and Deeds of Earl Roberts, 4 vols (Edinburgh: T C & E Jack, 1901); Harold F B Wheeler, The Story of Lord Roberts (London: George G Harrap, 1915); H de Watteville, Lord Roberts (London and Glasgow: Blackie, 1938) and W H Hannah, Bobs: Kipling’s General. The Life of Field-Marshal Earl Roberts of Kandahar, VC (London: Leo Cooper, 1972). As far as Roberts’s role in India is concerned, a basic source will always be his autobiography, Forty-one Years in India: From Subaltern to Commander-in-Chief, 2 vols (London: Richard Bentley, 1897), which was reprinted thirty-four times, translated into German, Italian and Urdu and transcribed into Braille. As far as his correspondence in India is concerned, see Brian Robson, ed., Roberts in India: The Military Papers of Field Marshal Lord Roberts 1876–1893 (Stroud: Alan Sutton Publishing for Army Records Society, 1993), and for his correspondence with regard to the Anglo-Boer War, see André Wessels, ed., Lord Roberts and the War in South Africa 1899–1902 (Stroud: Sutton Publishing for Army Records Society, 2000). The best recent study of the Second Anglo-Afghan War, in which Roberts’s role is discussed in detail, is Brian Robson, The Road to Kabul: The Second Afghan War 1878–81 (London: Arms and Armour Press, 1986). Other sources on that war that discuss Roberts’s role in detail include J A S Colquhoun, With the Kurram Field Force, 1878–79 (London: W H Allen, 1881); Howard Hensman, The Afghan War of 1879–80, 2nd edn (London: W H Allen, 1882); Archibald Forbes, The Afghan Wars 1839–42 and 1878–80 (London: Seeley, 1892); C M MacGregor (compiler), The Second Afghan War, vols 1–3 (Simla: Government Central Branch Press, 1885), vols 4–6 (Calcutta: Superintendent of Government Printing, 1886); H B Hanna, The Second Afghan War 1878–79–80: Its Causes, its Conduct and its Consequences, 3 vols (Westminster: Constable, 1899–1910) and T A Heathcote, The Afghan Wars 1839–1919 (London: Osprey, 1980). His role during the Anglo-Boer War is discussed in detail in, inter alia, J H Breytenbach, Die Geskiedenis van die Tweede Vryheidsoorlog in Suid-Afrika, 1899–1902 (Pretoria: Die Staatsdrukker), the official (uncompleted) Afrikaner history of the war – see especially vols 4 (1977), 5 (1983) and 6 (1996); L S Amery, ed., The Times History of the War in South Africa 1899–1902 (London: Sampson Low, Marston), especially vols 3 (1905) and 4 (1906); and Frederick Maurice (compiler), History of the War in South Africa 1899–1902 (London: Hurst and Blackett) – also known as the ‘Official History’ – vols 1 (1906), 2 (1907) and 3 (1908); Keith Surridge, Managing the South African War, 1899–1902: Politicians v. Generals (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1998) and Denis Judd and Keith Surridge, The Boer War (London: John Murray, 2002). Chapters on Roberts as military commander have been written by Byron Farwell in his Eminent Victorian Soldiers: Seekers of Glory (New York and London: W W Norton, 1985), pp. 147–91 and Peter Trew, The Boer War Generals (Johannesburg: Jonathan Ball, 1999), pp. 45–87, while there is a recent assessment by Rodney Atwood, ‘So Single-minded a Man and So Noble-hearted a Soldier: Field Marshal Earl Roberts of Kandahar, Waterford and Pretoria’, in Ian F W Beckett, ed., Victorians at War: New Perspectives (Society for Army Historical Research Special Publication No. 16, 2007), pp. 59–74.
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