Life in a Karoo Blockhouse

Text & Photographs by Chris Marais

The sleepy Free State town of Springfontein once bustled madly during the South African (Anglo-Boer) War.

Railway lines from Cape Town, Port Elizabeth and East London all met here on their way to the Reef – and there was a concentration camp holding nearly 3 000 Boer women, their children and displaced Africans nearby. More than 700 of them died in that time.

Edgar Wallace, renowned journalist and author, was a war correspondent out here, and once found himself mired in Springfontein – possibly as bored as a blockhouse guard. So he wrote some colour pieces for his readers back in the UK, imagining overhearing ‘Tommy Atkins’ (the typical British soldier) holding forth with his mates on the platform at Springfontein Station:

“Here were a dozen men who had probably seen more battles in one year than most generals see in a lifetime, and yet their talk was not of war, or great daring, but just the subjects, the selfsame subjects, they would argue out in times of peace at the bar of the ‘Green Man’.

“It seemed more than incongruous at times to hear – here in the loneliness of the rolling veld, with the black peaks of the distant hills, sooty bulks against the velvet-black skyline, with death lurking in the darkness about, it seems strange…when Tommies are arguing in strident Cockney on the legitimacy of the birth of Moses.

“’Found ‘im in the bulrushes – yuss, that’s wot she said…’”

 

 

Blackie’s Blockhouse

I once found myself in a typical British blockhouse overlooking Springfontein, wandering just how the hell a squad of six soldiers passed the time (and the seasons) under a tin roof that baked in summer and froze in winter.

It was at our friend Blackie de Swardt’s Prior Grange Farm, on a hill that looms over the ever-busy N1 highway. Blackie rebuilt the blockhouse ages ago, and it now stands as one of the visual icons of the southern Free State.

How did these chaps cope, all those years ago? Were they bored? Were they occasionally sent some care packages from home? Hell yes, according to old Edgar, who penned these words in an article titled Christmas Day on the Veldt, and published in the New Zealand Star on February 10, 1902:

“In the little box that serves as a pantry is a Christmas pudding, which the good people of England have sent out; there is a prime cut of beef, which the Cold Storage Manager has arranged for; there are vegetables, and a pint of beer a man—it came last night on a gangers’ trolley; and there are letters and papers to be read—they came last night, too.

“Phew! but it’s hot. The blockhouse smells of warm paint and warm food and old clothes. There is a fire in the tiny kitchen dug-out, white smoke rises straightly, no breath of air moves on the veldt, and the light of the fire is made nothing by the light of the sun that beats down from the white-hot sky.”

 

A Closer Look

I dug a little further, and found Life in the British Blockhouses during the Anglo-Boer War, 1899-1902, by Johan Hattingh and Andre Wessels of the University of the Free State. The authors provided some more clues as to the day-to-day of the Blockhouse Tommies.

“By 1900, British supply lines were threatened and sometimes cut, and completely new demands were made on the conventionally-trained British soldiers. In an effort to corner the Boer commandos, the British in due course built some 8 000 blockhouses of various sizes over the length and breadth of the war zone. These blockhouses were manned by about 85 000 soldiers, including about 2S 000 black and coloured blockhouse guards.”

These blockhouses were mostly built near railway lines and were supposed to stand about 1 000 metres apart, with wire barriers spanned between them. However, many blockhouses also stood isolated in the veld, and had to be supplied with food and water via donkey carts and larger transport wagons.

Bogus Blockhouse Guards

Sometimes, when manpower was at an ebb, guard ‘dummies’ would be fashioned in a bid to outfox the wily Boer units trying to pass through the obstacles.

“Such a dummy was generally dressed in khaki, and had a medal or two fixed to its left chest,” say Hattingh and Wessels.

“The medals were manufactured of tin. An imitation rifle was sometimes placed in his hands, and a whiskey bottle was stuck into his pocket. As the war continued, the dummies were utilised in an even more original way. Some of these dummies saluted passing trains, above the heads of some the Union Jack was attached, while at a particular blockhouse there were even two dummies at the time peace was being concluded – a Boer and a British soldier – who were in the act of shaking hands.”

 

Where’s the Grub?

“Although food was never scarce, the diet was boring. For example, it consisted of ration biscuits, bully beef and canned stew.

“The stew was known as ‘knock-me-down stew’, and was a mixture of meat and vegetables. It was not a popular dish among the troops, and it had the tendency to build up gas in the tin. When the tin was then opened, it often exploded in the person’s face.

“Sometimes tomato jam, bread and canned butter were provided to the troops. They rarely received canned ham or meat. As the war progressed, other canned foodstuffs appeared on the menu, such as canned bacon and eggs, sardines, pies and apple pudding.

“To provide for variety in their diet, the guards sometimes shot small game and various birds for the pot, and when possible they caught fish.”

After rising at around 5:30am in the summer, the soldiers had a simple breakfast of tea, bully beef and the ubiquitous ‘dog biscuit’ that was often so hard-baked one could use it as a weapon at close quarters.

A Hard Pass on the Lemon Juice

“The only formal drink that was distributed consisted of rum and lemon juice. The lemon juice was added to prevent scurvy, and dated back to the days when the drink was issued to crews on ships,” wrote Hattingh and Wessels.

Apparently, few of the British soldiers took to the idea of concocting rum and lemon cocktails (Blockhouse Bombs?), because the officers had to urge their troops to drink the lemon juice. Obviously, there was no problem with disposing of the rum rations.

And when it came to finding heating fuel in a wood-free environment, some blockhouse Tommies devised a cunning plan that involved the constant traffic of passing steam trains:

“As soon as a train carrying coal moved through the bend, four soldiers would take up positions, two on each side of the railway line, and when the train slowed down they would throw a rope across the coal-carrying truck, tighten the rope and scoop off several kilograms of coal which would then become a source of fuel for the surrounding blockhouses!”

Hurry Up and Wait

Like most military situations, life along the blockhouse line was a case of long periods of boredom, during which the soldiers worked on their defensive positions, wrote letters home, staged races with pets that ranged from meerkats to dung beetles and simply hung around teasing each other. And then ‘Brother Boer’ was spotted, shots would ring out and the skirmish was on.

For an insider’s view on life in the South African Heartland, get the Karoo Quartet set of books (Karoo Roads I-IV by Chris Marais and Julienne du Toit) for only R960, including taxes and courier costs in South Africa. For more details, contact Julie at julie@karoospace.co.za