Short Story: All The Queen's Men

Short Story: All The Queen's Men

In October 1899, war broke out in South Africa, between the two Boer Republics and the British Empire. England controlled the Cape Colony and Natal, but not the Transvaal and the Free State. These two republics took on the might of the British Empire. None of the Boers were trained soldiers; just men of the earth, farmers fighting for control of their land and beliefs. It was during this war, that guerrilla warfare, trench warfare, concentration camps and camouflage uniforms were first used. It was to change the way in which wars’ were fought from then on …

82 742 Boers

346 693 trained soldiers from the vast British Empire.

This is my take on that war. Whoever reads it, I hope you find it an enjoyable read!

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ALL THE QUEEN’S MEN

In Cape Town, private William Varney crossed the Grand Parade and headed towards the castle. His mood was good even though he was being sent to the Orange Free State tomorrow and would undoubtedly experience action of some sort. But, he’d just posted a letter to his family back in England and the thought of his parents and sisters always filled him with happiness; besides, he wanted to fight and defend the Empire’s colony. A sense of patriotism soared through him as he stared up at the union flag as it flapped against the blue African sky. He breathed in the air; it smelled clean, a strong south-easter wind blew clear white clouds over Table Mountain.

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Back in England, Lillian Varney sat in the large armchair by the fireside and tore open the white envelope. Her fingers trembled as she put on her gold-rimmed spectacles and began to read out loud the letter from William to her husband and three daughters. She cleared her throat and then in her no-nonsense voice said, ‘Ehm, now be quiet the lot of you and concentrate.’

27th October 1899

‘Dearest Ma, Poppa and my sweet sisters, Edie, Clara and Jayne,

I hope this letter finds you all in good health. Finally, I’ve arrived at the Cape Colony and I can hardly believe I am truly here! It is so different from England Ma, rather primitive actually. I know Clara would simply adore the pristine beaches. Wait, before I continue, I must try and describe the magnificent impression sailing into Table Bay made on me; I hope I can do it the justice it so richly deserves. The sight of Table Mountain, with Devils’ Peak and Lion’s Head on either side of her, looming majestically out of the blue ocean is something I will never be able to forget! All I can say, it left me in no doubt about who created the world! I keep saying over to myself how glorious our Creator is in giving us these treasures to enjoy!’

Lillian stopped as tears blurred the words and she couldn’t read any longer. She clasped her son’s letter to her chest; he was only twenty years old, but already displayed a maturity beyond his years. She glanced over at her husband, the Reverend Henry Varney; his eyes were shut and she knew how proud he was of his son. She handed the letter to Edie, the oldest of the three girls and said, ‘You carry on reading, dear, I can’t …’

‘ ….. I haven’t seen any action as yet, but tomorrow am leaving on a train for the Orange Free State. I do feel rather apprehensive, but know that I must do my duty for Queen and country. I shall write soon and until then, may our Lord bless and keep you all safe.

Your affectionate son and brother,

William.’

17th November 1899

‘My dearest, Ma, Poppa and sweet sisters,

I am now, after a few awful days ride in the Orange Free State. It is an extremely hot and dry place with nothing, but miles and miles of open veld, stretching out as far as the eye can see. I never knew that there were so much open spaces on this earth of ours as what this country has.

Thank the good Lord, I’ve been sent to the camps that we have here for the Boer women and children; sort of like ‘replacement camps.’ I am so grateful that I won’t be called upon to actually spill another person’s blood – I do not think I could live with that on my conscience.

I’ve heard from some soldiers here who have experienced fighting that we are having a torrid time with the enemy. They say these Boers are a deeply patriotic people and fight with such courage, seldom seen. They are terribly rough, you know, people of the soil. They do not fight in the conventional manner; rather, in little bands of men, called guerrilla war-fare and much to our dismay, it is proving very effective.

This town is so hot and as I sit here under the shade of a huge Pepper tree and glance out at the sun-bleached grasslands as it meets the endless blue horizon, I begin to get a deep longing for the soft, green fields of home. While I’m writing to you, the sun is searing down, making everything shimmer and dance before my eyes, and my ears are filled with the incessant buzzing of the insects in the veld. I’m ending off now as it is almost time for our dinner.

May the Lord bless and keep you all,

Your affectionate son and brother,

William’

Alone in her bedroom, Lillian folded William’s letter and placed it in the little black box she kept in the pedestal alongside her bed. She sighed; why had she allowed him to go to that forsaken, barbaric land? What purpose would come of it? She reached for her bible and began to read.

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William flicked the fly away from his face. It had been annoying him all afternoon. He detested doing guard-duty. It was boring; hours and hours of standing and watching and waiting – staring out at the endless dry veld, searching for signs of the Boers. He squinted against the glare of the bright sunlight and scanned his gaze aimlessly across the horizon. How on earth was he supposed to spot the enemy, when they so cleverly wore clothing that blended in with their surroundings? He laughed wryly at how eager he’d been to defend this colony of the British Empire?

23 December 1899

‘…………… I’m beginning to look at this war through different eyes, Ma. I keep asking myself over and over, is it right for England to force its laws onto these people, forcing them to speak our language among other things? Sometimes, I wonder if there is something more sinister going on, that only the politicians are aware of.

…………………… I still find it difficult to believe that Lord Kitchener decided to implement the ‘scorched-earth’ policy which has resulted in these camps! What was he thinking? To my mind, it’s as though we knew the only way to bring the Boers to their knees is by destroying what they hold dear to their hearts –making their wives and children suffer! Ma, seeing women, once proud walk around with a look of hopelessness in their eyes, devastates me as I keep thinking what if it were you and my sisters? Yet, I have seen some women bearing no sign of being cowered at all! In fact, quite the opposite. There are women here who display open hostility towards us. I must admit though somewhat reluctantly, I feel a sense of admiration for their bravery …..’

William stood legs apart, his hands clasped together behind his back as he studied the endless rows of tents behind the wire fence. Some women stood chatting; others watched their children playing in the red earth. His gaze finally settled on a woman whose stout build reminded him somewhat of his mother. She was looking out at the veld, her hooded white cap protecting her face from the blazing sun. She seemed to feel William’s stare and turned and stared directly into his eyes. At one time, she must have been an attractive woman thought William, but now her face was gaunt, her suffering showed in her sunken, brown eyes.

Embarrassed, William glanced away, feeling responsible for her being in this disease-ridden place. He felt an urge to go over and apologise for her indignity, but he knew he couldn’t. His thoughts were distracted by a young child, who cried as she tugged on her mother’s white apron. The woman turned her gaze back on William and to his astonishment, in almost perfect English said, ‘See, what your people have done to us?’

He quickly diverted his gaze, but the vision of the woman and her starving child wouldn’t leave him and despite himself, he turned his attention once more back to them. Intense shame filled William at his choice for serving in her Majesty’s army.

25th December 1899

‘………………….. Christmas is here. Well good cheer and all of that to you at home. I suppose it’s wonderfully cold over there. It’s blistering here! I’ve just come from our Christmas service, but I feel I shouldn’t have bothered going as I haven’t been feeling in a terribly Christian frame of mind lately!

On our way back to our barracks we passed the Boer women who were holding their own service in their tents. The sound of their singing was so haunting and moved me deeply; it made my skin tingle with emotion. I ask myself how two nations both professing to be Christian can pray to the same God for his protection in this awful war? It all seems so ridiculous, don’t you think?

Now, there is a typhoid epidemic that has broken out in the camp. Women and children are dying by the day. Ma, it is so heart wrenching watching as a mother takes the body of her baby who is wrapped only in an old blanket and offers it to the earth! I’ve seen things in this camp that my mind just won’t comprehend. I want to leave, but can’t, I have to follow orders!’

10th January 1900

‘……………………. I’ve befriended a Boer woman here in the camp. Her name is Hester van Rooyen. She was one of the first women I saw when I arrived here and since then we have become firm friends …….’

18th February 1900

‘……. I have asked my senior officer to be sent from this place as I can’t bear watching these poor women and children suffer any longer! There are so many dying; sometimes there are as many as ten funerals a day! The women walk around like they are already dead; the children are skeletal and seem to wear the mask of death on their little shrunken faces. I feel that if I remain here, it is going to drive me off my head!

I dislike this part of this country immensely! The heat is unbearable. Everything is dry, even the air, and at night I find myself dreaming of soft soaking rain against my skin – then I wake up, bathed in sticky perspiration; the air encompassing me in its hot, heavy breath ……………………’

William returned from supper and wearily sat down. He wanted to sleep, but first he had to write home to his family as he knew how much they would worry if they did not hear from him. He picked up his pen and began, the pen scratching noisily against the crisp paper.

1st March 1900

‘…………………. I find myself not being able to eat my meals any more as my mind is consumed with images of the hungry children. The only thing I look forward to, is sharing a cup of coffee with Hester van Rooyen – the woman I told you about in one of my earlier letters.

I was pleasantly surprised when I first realised she spoke English. She is a school teacher by profession and taught at a little farm school somewhere in the Cape Colony, before it was burned to the ground by us. Hester and her children were sent to this camp in the Orange Free State ………….’

9th April 1900

‘…………………… even amid the horror of all this human suffering, can you believe that I have found beauty, in the form of a young prisoner of war. Her name is Lettie van Rooyen, the daughter of Hester, the woman I've written about earlier, and in another time and place, I’m convinced that something wonderfully sacred could’ve come out of our meeting, but not here, not now – and it pierces through my heart like a knife! We sometimes manage to spend time alone. I want this war to come to an end. I long to be home, to be free from all the despair surrounding me …………

…….the chief medical officer had recommended that I be put on sick leave …….’

William stopped writing and sat the tip of the pen in his mouth as he recalled the day Hester had introduced Lettie to him.

The dire conditions of the camp couldn’t disguise the spirit shining in the young woman’s warm brown eyes and when she smiled, William knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was in love. The time they managed to spend alone, left him with bitter-sweet emotions as their futures were uncertain.

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Lillian folded her son’s letter and placed it in the box with all the others. She sat down on the bed and wished she could turn back the hands of time – she’d never have allowed William to have volunteered for this war. She lay back on her bed and shut her eyes, trying to will away the little voice that kept whispering to her; trying to warn her of something.

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William rode out the camp for the last time. His heart ached as he forced himself to look away from Lettie’s tear-stained face as she stood, her hands clutching at the wire-fence.

‘William,’ she called, watching until the small group of horsemen disappeared over the hill. Her hand caressed her stomach and she wondered if she and their unborn child would ever see him again?

The English soldiers rode for miles in the hot sun as it burned their skin. After a few hours, the sergeant ordered them to stop for a rest. The soldiers sat sprawled out on the grass.

‘Right men; take this time to write home, because I don’t know when you’ll have another chance.’

William and the others obeyed. They were far from any place of importance so they did not bother posting a sentry to watch out for the Boers. William began his letter home.

17th May 1900

'Dearest Ma, Poppa and my sweet sisters,

Finally, I am on my way from the wretched camp! Although I am terribly distressed at having to leave my darling, Lettie ….'

A rustling in the dry grass distracted William and he glanced up, expecting to see a wild animal of some sort; maybe an elephant. The following moment, the air was filled with a thundering explosion and a bright light flashed across the wide, blue sky.

The Boer kicked William’s body with his bloody, filthy foot.

‘Look, this boy looks like he was really surprised, hey? And best of all, it seems like his boots will fit me!’ he laughed as he pulled them off William’s lifeless body.

The small band of Boer guerrillas took stock of the dead English soldiers lying in the open veld. They had done well today; General Cronje would be pleased – today they had killed five of the Queen of England's men. Imagine that, a woman who ruled from across the water, wanting to govern their, the Boers land. They rode off into the distance; a cloud of dust behind them.

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December 1902

Lettie stood at the grave, holding her young son’s hand tightly. In the other was the unfinished letter William had begun the afternoon he was killed. An English officer had given it to her when the bodies were found and brought back to the camp.

She glanced down at her little son and winced; for in the last rays of the setting sun, the boy’s hair gleamed like burnished copper. He looked so much like his father. Silently, she read the gravestone marker – PRIVATE WILIAM REGINALD VARNEY.

The child tuned his face up to his mother.

‘Mama, cry?’

Lettie nodded. She leaned down and placed a bunch of wild, veld flowers on the grave. She knew the time had arrived for her to let William’s family in England know he had a son, now that there was peace. She turned from the grave and for the first times since the war ended, felt a sense of acceptance.

TO BE CONTINUED ......