Unbanned Bible Publications
Defending God’s Truth in Church Doctrine and Political History – Renette Vermeulen
BRITISH HOSPITALS WERE A DISGRACEFUL DEATH SENTENCE
Whatishappeninginsouthafrica.blogs wrote, “The detainees received no fruit or vegetables; not even milk for the babies. The meat and flour issued were crawling with maggots.”
Emily Hothouse reported, “I have in my possession coffee and sugar which were described as follows by a London analyst: In the case of the first, 66% imitation, and in the case of the second, sweepings from a warehouse [floor...]” From her book, ‘With the Boers in the Field,’
Sara Raal stated, “There were poisonous sulphate of copper, grounded glass, and razor blades in the rations.” The evidence presented is so overwhelming that it must be regarded as historical fact…”
A British physician, Dr. Henry Becker, wrote, “First, they [deliberately] chose an ill-suited site for the camp. Then they supplied so little water that the people could neither wash themselves nor their clothes. Furthermore, they made no provision for sufficient waste removal. And lastly, they did not provide enough toilets for the overpopulation they had crammed into the camps.”
I did a thorough search for photos of concentration camp victims. The photos below are some of the few photos that survived by some miracle. Most were destroyed to hide British war crimes.
[Acknowledgement to those who published these well-known photos]
Photo third from the left: The decomposing, living skeleton of the seven-year old Lizzie van Zyl, only one of the children who were deliberately starved to death in a British hospital to force her parents to surrender to the British crown. Emily Hobhouse said of Lizzie van Zyl, “She was a frail, weak little child in desperate need of good care. Yet, because her mother was one of the ‘undesirables’ due to the fact that her father neither surrendered nor betrayed his people, Lizzie was placed on the lowest rations and so perished with hunger that, after a month in the camp, she was transferred to the new small hospital. Here she was treated harshly. The English disposed doctor and his nurses did not understand her language and, as she could not speak English, labeled her as an idiot although she was mentally fit and normal…”
Lizzie was begging the nurses to allow her to see her mother, as she was lonely, isolated, and suffering a slow death under the ‘care’ of the extremely rude and non-caring doctor and nurses in the ‘hospital.’ They pretended that they did not understand her, thus refusing her dying request.
Whatishappeninginsouthafrica.blogs states, “Sick people feared the hospitals more than death. Should a child leave the hospital alive, it was merely a miracle… The amenities in the camps were clearly planned to kill as many of the women and children as possible. They were accommodated in tattered reject tents, which offered no protection against the elements.” Miss Hobhouse recorded some of the conditions in one of the camps as follows, “Throughout the night there was a downpour. Puddles of water were everywhere. The [diseased and starving interned] tried to get themselves and their possessions dry on the soaked ground...” (Hobhouse: Brunt of the War, page 169.)
WAR RAPE – INSATIABLE LUST ACCOMPANIES TORTURE AND MURDER
Some machine gun wielding terrorists gleefully state, “When we rape we feel completely free! We can do whatever we want to do!” How horrifyingly barbaric! Nonetheless, it is widely believed that the in the Boer War the British were Victorian gentlemen, who could never have been rapists. Even generations of post-war, impoverished Afrikaners were led to believe that the Second ‘Boer’ War was a “gentlemen’s war!” However, history has proven that English ‘gentlemen’ were merciless torturers and murderers of little babies, children, women, and the elderly, ransacking and burning some 34,000 Boer homes, and destroying millions of livestock in most inhumane ways – but rapists?
Surely, Afrikaner and African women would have reported the crime of rape… And that would have been possible - if only they had someone to report it to. It was impossible to report rape and other sexual abuse to the rapists themselves, who had ultimate power over them. With Afrikaner and African men engaged in a full-blown war against the British Empire and her Allies, Afrikaner and African women and children were fair game for sex-hungry men far away from home.
Col. Agar Adamson, Canadian soldier under British command, wrote to his wife Mabel, “At Ermelo, I was awakened by a frantic Boer woman telling me that her two daughters were being raped by several soldiers… I greatly fear that they were ours…”
Artist Willem Boshoff wrote, “At Springfontein, south of Bloemfontein… I discovered a whole field of baby graves far removed from the main cemetery. I learnt that these were the graves of unbaptised [Calvinist] children – unbaptised because they were born out of wedlock from the union between British soldiers and women in the camp. I felt as if the soldiers were saying, ‘We do not fare so well with the Boer men – but have you seen what we can do to their women and children!’”
To a very religious, conservative Calvinist woman, the crime of rape would have been such a deadening shame, she would rather have killed herself than speak out against her perpetrator. She would have been shamed into silence, because to report the crime of rape and sexual abuse during that time would have been utterly life destroying for the victim. As in many cases today, the victim would have been on trial, not the rapist. The ‘gentleman’ rapist or child molester would have walked away unaddressed and the crime would have been ‘ignored’ for decency’s sake. The only injured party in sexual crimes would have been the ever-suffering, unrecognized victim.
The writer of geni.com explained correctly that, in the “Victorian era code the words ‘rape’ and ‘sexual abuse’ would have been relayed as ‘molestation.’” Many women conveyed the message of rape and sexual abuse by saying that the English soldiers ‘molested’ them.
Very few ‘decent’ people took notice of their ‘complaints.’
BRUTAL IMAGES DESCRIBE THE BRITISH WAR CRIMES
The atrocious images of “civilized” British inhumanity to man and beast still reach out to us across the crumbling pages of time. Not even the 121 years since then, (in 2021,) can obscure the reality of the unbearable pain, loss, sorrow, and humiliation which Britain caused. As we were not there ourselves, we could probably have romanticized the need and suffering of the innocent and vulnerable. However, the reality of all this inconceivable affliction is quite another matter.
Should we close our eyes, we would still be able to see the terrifying images of hordes of trained troops from Britain and her Allied Forces advancing on the Orange Free State and the Zuid Afrikaansche Republic. Half a million soldiers engage some 64,000 farmers on the battlefield and forcibly evict an estimated 107,344 non-white and 190,000 white women, children and old men from their homes at the barrels of their guns to incarcerate them in tent camps on the open veld.
They scorch “an estimated” 34,000 farms with fire and dynamite. On their way out, the women and older children try desperately to grab a Bible, medicine, blankets, pillows, warm clothes, and kitchen utensils. Outside, whites and non-whites are separated and hastily forced onto wagons. Old and young all huddle their children and grandchildren in their arms and watch in wide-eyed disbelief while soldiers, mercenaries, and joiners cheerfully loot their homes and farms. The dogs bark furiously at first. Then, distressed yelps cause the children to scream hysterically and cover their faces with their hands, as their lifelong guardians and companions are bayoneted before their eyes!
Soldiers, mad with greed and power, poison the wells, steal the thoroughbred horses from the stables, and stuff their pockets with apricots and peaches from the orchards. Others take chickens, horse carts, ox wagons, tools, saddles, and harnesses from the sheds. Stiff upper lip British officers browse through the homesteads to choose what they like – a piano, silver cutlery, Grandpa’s yellowwood chair, fine porcelain... Then, as they escort the people from their farms, soldiers dowse the homesteads, servant-quarters, stables, barns, pens, vegetable gardens, and crops with kerosene to set it all ablaze. Many homesteads and outbuildings are simply blown to pieces with dynamite.
The surrounding fields and hills shudder under the sound of soldiers’ feet, horses’ hoofs, loud, authoritative commands, and deafening bangs. The frenzied neighing of unbridled horses; the bleating of bewildered sheep; the hysterical bellowing of scrambling cattle; the squealing of pigs, and the terrified cackle of poultry crescendo to the heavens as British troops bayonet, shoot, kick, and clobber them all to death — or until most are quiet and unable to move, but still alive!
Come, witness the quiet goodbyes as soldiers tear workers and farmers apart. As the wagons begin to leave, children of both races scream with outstretched arms for their friends; tears streaming down their faces. Their families grew up together, worked together, laughed together, cried together, and suffered together. The children all played together and were schooled and evangelized together. Many adults begin to sob silently from shock, fear, and sorrow; choking on the stench of their burning belongings. And as the wagons leave the burning farms behind, pay attention to the empty stares and quiet resolve on the faces of South Africa’s dispossessed, displaced peoples. They sit strangely dignified in the midst of the raging chaos as mounted soldiers cart them further and further away from their loved ones, livelihood, and their familiar family land.
Now, listen to the voices of thousands upon thousands of homeless victims, accommodated in tattered tents on the open South African veld. Before all their hope fades, they softly begin to sing, “Nader my God by U, steeds nader by…” (‘Closer my God to Thee…’)
Learn from these women, children, and old men how to survive the singeing sun of summer with not a tree in sight. Thick, cold mud, devastating hail, and drenching floods in the rainy season. Bitter frost, snow, and the piercing wind of winter. Typhoid, measles, and dysentery without medical supplies. The scorn and mocking laughter of well-fed soldiers. The prying eyes and gentlemen’s hands on defenceless female and children bodies. Constant discrimination against black and white ‘undesirables’ and accelerated starvation of the children by halving their rations, because the women refuse to influence their men to pledge allegiance to the British crown.
Observe how some complain loudly about the lack of warmth and medicine; overcrowding in tents, insufficient and dirty water, and the bitterly small rations of food, which many state under oath, are poisoned with crushed glass and pungent smelling chemicals. Take note that the thousands of captives whom Britain brutally dispossessed have no spare clothing or warm bedding to cover their shivering children, or to protect their own frail and ailing bodies. Smell the stench of empty cooking fires, mingling with the filth that rises from the camps. Flinch at the reek of unwashed bodies, the fever on their breaths, and the rotting decay of famine and death that continually stalk the camps.
Silence the wailing of dreadfully hungry, diseased children and the whispered prayers of desperate women. Hide from the thousands upon thousands of tortured eyes, staring hopelessly from skin-covered skulls. Refuse the thousands of bony, begging little hands. Abandon the limp but living skeletons, helplessly wasting away under canvas without something to relieve their pain.
Hush their mourning! Do not listen as some women scream with grief and tear their clothes in sorrow, while others sit stark-faced with clenched lips. Blot out their wavering hymns. Then turn away from rows upon rows of shallow graves where thousands upon thousands of skeleton-bodies of different races are layered with earth. Most are babies, toddlers, and children under 15 years of age.
Never mind the dead; their fight is over. Pay attention to the women, starkly staring into space, whispering a sinister lullaby while rocking their dead babies in their arms, “Siembamba, Mamma se kindjie… Draai sy nek om, gooi hom in die sloot… Trap op sy kop dan is hy dood!” (...Mamma’s little baby… Wring his neck and toss him in a trench. Trudge on his head and he is dead!”) Why would a mother sing such a ghastly lullaby of infanticide — unless those infants were the unacceptable byproduct of war rape, and of mothers selling their bodies to the soldiers for meagre portions of toxic food? Or if mothers simply could not stand the continuous suffering of their children in the camps.
And don’t forget the African women singing lullabies to their babies as well, “Tula, thul, thula baba, tula sana, thul’uu babuzo ficka, eksu seni… ” (Quiet baby... Daddy will be home by dawn…)
If possible, forget the haunted, expressionless faces of those who survive. However, remember to erect memorials for the thousands upon thousands of women, children, and old men of all races, who perish under British torture in the Hell Camps. Then, do not forget to erect another memorial for those who suffer and die unnoticed. Those, whose deaths are never recorded, because British commanders force down statistics on deaths in all the camps.
Ignoring Britain’s excuses and their denial of war-crime guilt, let us at least remember the men of all races on commando. Cold, starved, and battling against half a million invading forces until they find themselves on the brink of collapse. Some are impoverished to a state where they have to wear grain bags. In all weather conditions they must sleep under the open sky. They are in danger of mutilation, capture, starvation, and death every moment of their lives. The measly medical care at their disposal at the beginning of the war quickly withered away. Their wounded have no hospitals, doctors, or nurses to take care of them. With the women and children incarcerated and everything on the farms blackened by fire, they must leave their wounded on the battleground in the hope that the British would take care for them as prisoners of war. The wounded that fall into English hands are treated with disdain, and even executed on capture or when they surrender — like the many men and young boys whom ‘heroes’ such as “Breaker Morant, Peter Hancock, George Witton, Henry Picton, Captain Alfred Taylor and Major Robert Lenehan of the Bushveldt Carbineers (BVC), an irregular regiment of mounted rifles,” brutally murdered instead of taking captive.
Then, there are the unrecorded numbers of fighting Burghers and their faithful African supporters, (known as “agterryers” or those who attend to the horses and other chores on commando,) who willingly lay down their lives on the battlefield. During this ‘civilized’ orgy of death, they precede thousands upon thousands who become ‘prisoners of war;’ incarcerated and dying in British camps in South Africa and in foreign countries. At least twenty six thousand or more captured men and their Cape rebel allies, who miraculously escaped execution for ‘high treason’ against Britain, are taken out to sea; escorted to different British colonies thousands of miles away. They are imprisoned in many different concentration camps in India, the Bermudas, and St. Helena. Abducted from their country, their homes, and their loved-ones, they face timeless banishment, mostly without word from their starving families that still survive. Their only hope to return to their country is to pledge allegiance to the British crown. Some refuse for years; alienated in an unfamiliar country; suffering from lack of necessities and illnesses that flourish in the tropics. From the prisoners in British camps, 25% Afrikaners and 12% African men die in exile. They are all buried and forgotten in foreign fields far, far away – which testifies to the dire conditions in those camps as well.
If this does not adequately describe England’s inhumane atrocities, hear the hopeless neighing of brave but wounded horses on the battlefield - then watch others starve with commandos under siege; they even chew on rocks! An “estimated” 300,000 horses perish in this war – a number unparalleled in history! Every one was capable of carrying a mounted man as well as his equipment. Driven up to thirty miles per hour, they unflinchingly carried their masters into combat and helped them make their escape. Then, there are the mules, donkeys, and workhorses, pulling wagons and ambulances onto the battlefield. They tremble but stay calm under gun and canon fire; wholly committed to the commands of their masters. These loyal animals are the true but misplaced heroes of all wars before the use of tanks and other vehicles in war.
Now, feel the helpless anger and desperate sorrow of the commandos as they arrive on farms that had been ‘scorched’ some days earlier. The tail-wagging dogs and meowing cats will never again come to greet the farmers or the workers. The commandos find their fly-infested bodies scattered among the heaps of rubble around the blackened, crumbling buildings. In vain, the men call for their loved ones and co-workers. They search futilely for something usable among their charred belongings and the burnt-out ruins of their homes.
Look into the tear-stained eyes of men who once were ordinary farmers. Some are so stunned they can only fall to their knees. They weep unashamedly for their sweethearts, wives, children, sisters, mothers, and fathers; shoulders sagging, jaws clenched, and their grips tightening on their rifles.
Cry out in sorrow as you watch them search the fields. The crops have all been decimated. The large orchards - all hewed down and poisoned with kerosene, never to grow again! The vegetable gardens too - doused and burnt with kerosene!
Smell the ghastly stench of death as you stare into the frenzied, bulging eyes of millions of blood-encrusted, bayoneted sheep and cattle that remain alive. Many have been suffering for days on end; buried alive among heaps of bloated carcasses. Shudder to the depths of your soul as you hear the buzzing of a billion flies, mingling with their laborious gasping - undead livestock that desperately yearn for death but cannot find it.
Witness how these farmers, forged into hardened soldiers by the mayhem of the British Empire, reach for their hunting knives to start the meticulous killing of their tortured, undead livestock.
In conclusion, cry with me, ‘Jesus oh God! Deliver humanity as well as Your innocent, vulnerable creation from the destruction of the evil one! If we do not torture and kill one another physically, we do it physiologically, even spiritually! Father in heaven; let Your Kingdom come, let Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven!’ [1 Jn. 3:15-22.]
This war was never an Afrikaner or African choice. It was Britain’s War against innocent civilians to gain control of the incalculably rich gold and diamond fields of South Africa. More than this, it was British expansion in all its ‘gentlemanly,’ genocidal glory. Besides all this, it was a successful socialist experiment, in which Queen Victoria and her war commanders ravished a pristine land and all its peoples to satisfy the insatiable greed and militant colonialism of the dragon lion. And so, conquering this small, brave nation of different races at the southernmost tip of Africa, became the blueprint for socialist war crimes that would typify the twentieth century on a global scale.
Continue to Part 4: ‘Aftermath of the Boer War, poverty and deprivation’