Free Fire Across the Veldt by John Wilcox

and the fire from the prone men immediately brought down a dozen or more of the Boers. Even so, enough of the horsemen thundered by to rein in, leap from their saddles just where the defensive ring was beinglinked together and to open up a devastating fire on the men of B Squadron.
    The other file of horsemen were firing as they galloped round to complete the encirclement and bullets hissed by Fonthill’s head as he stood desperately trying to direct the movement of his men. But, fine marksmen as they were, even Boers could not accurately fire from the backs of galloping horses and he remained unscathed, standing long enough to be sure that the defensive ring had been completed, albeit with gaps on the farthest side of the ring, where B Squadron were lying.
    Hammond appeared at Simon’s side. ‘Get the men to take cover behind the anthills,’ Fonthill shouted to him. ‘Bites are better than bullets and the Boers will pick ’em off if they are lying in the open. Did each of the men ride out with fifty rounds?’
    ‘I believe so, sir.’
    ‘Well, I bloody well hope so. That was the order. The Boers are not going to rush us now that we are in some sort of defensive position. They will try and outshoot us, creeping nearer all the time. Tell Wills and Cartwright to tell their men to husband their ammunition and keep their heads down. Fire only when they see a target. The enemy will try to make us expend our ammunition.’
    ‘Very good, Colonel.’
    The major doubled away, crouching. The horse handlers had done a good job and only a handful had been cut off by the Boers. Amazingly, in the middle of the shooting, the horses were lying still, their handlers lying among them, soothing them. Fonthill knew that the Boers would take care to avoid hitting the ponies, for they would be anxious to take them as prizes.
    Head down, rifle in hand – Fonthill was grateful that he had decided not to carry the Webley revolver that was the officer’s formal side arm – he hurried to where Wills, the commander of B Squadron, was crouching.
    ‘How many men have you lost, John?’ he asked, trying to adopt a matter-of-fact tone. He had no idea of how these men would react to what was clearly a tight situation and it was important to set a good example.
    ‘About ten, so far, sir. I think five of them fatally, as best I can see.’ Wills replied in an equally sanguine tone. Simon looked at him sharply, then remembered that the man had spent a whole day lying on the veldt in the hot sun at Colenso, where the Boers from their trenches had shot any man who lifted his head or arm more than six inches. ‘It’s the wounded that’s the problem, though, Colonel. The Boers are keeping up  …’ he ducked his head as a bullet thudded into the anthill behind which he lay ‘… a pretty heavy fire as you can see. We just can’t get to the hurt chaps.’
    ‘Damn! Well it can’t be helped. The Boers won’t rush us while we have ammunition, so conserve it. They won’t enjoy lying out here in the sun any more than we will.’
    He nodded and crawled on, dodging between whatever cover he could find, until he came up to Cartwright. ‘Casualties, Cecil?’ he asked.
    ‘Not too bad, sir, so far. One man killed and another two wounded, although only lightly.’ The young man grinned. ‘I thought the Boers would be better shots than that.’
    Fonthill nodded. ‘Don’t underestimate them, my boy. See that your men return the fire but take no risks. It will probably be hardpounding for the rest of the day, but I think they’ll ride off when they find that we are not easy pickings.’
    Simon continued his circuit of the ring, exchanging words with each man he passed and stopping to talk a little longer and encourage the subalterns. They, all ex-sergeants and survivors of several actions, were cool and composed, he was glad to see.
    Eventually, he was back to A Squadron and crawling up to its commander, Major Hammond. ‘Casualties, Philip?’ he