AS THE 19th century drew to a close, war raged across South Africa and, on the desolate plains of the Great Karoo, a unique hospital sprang up.
In 1899, the British realised that this war against “a bunch of farmers” was not going well for them, and the government appealed for volunteers. Many men - including newly qualified doctors - enlisted and ships sailed for South Africa almost daily.
Meanwhile, in England, two high-society women scrapped their social calendars and set out to raise funds for a private hospital to care for the men who would be wounded.
The results were an extraordinary achievement. From conception in England to erection in the Karoo, a little less than three months passed before the Imperial Yeomanry hospital opened at Deelfontein, a narrow valley between a row of koppies and a railway siding, 46km south of De Aar and 77km north of Richmond. The date was March 17, 1900.
To say it was a place ahead of its time is something of an understatement. The huge tent hospital that mushroomed was unique along with operating theatres, treatment and convalescent wards, it boasted specialist units for dentistry, ophthalmology and radiology - all firsts in a military hospital. There was a fire station, a dispensary, electricity and a telephone system. It had its own stables and dairy, which supplied sterilised milk.
Steam-driven disinfection and waste-disposal units helped in the war against typhoid, and ensured hygienic conditions. The laundry washed and sterilised more than 2 000 sheets a week. Drinking water was filtered and running water was piped through the grounds.
There were luxurious touches as well - including a huge officers’ mess with its own mineral water plant and ice-making machine. A chapel, a theatre, sports fields, tennis courts, a shooting range, and (can you believe it?) a horse-racing track provided recreational facilities.
How did this happen? Recognition goes to two English women - Lady Georgiana Spencer-Churchill and Lady Beatrice Chesham, second daughter of the first Duke of Westminster, whose husband Lord Chesham was commander of the Imperial Yeomanry in South Africa.
Lady Georgiana focused on liaison with the War Office and other institutions in the UK, while Lady Beatrice spent much time at Deelfontein supervising affairs. The two women, with help from friends, raised a substantial sum (£174 000) - more than enough to equip and staff a hospital. The goal was conceived in December 1899 and, over the next couple of months, tons of equipment was dispatched from England by ship, to be transported to Deelfontein by ox wagon, horse and slow train. During its year of operation, the hospital treated more than 6 000 patients, and lost just 134, of whom 112 succumbed to typhoid.
In order to cover all aspects of the story, Willis groups events into chapters that start with the aim of providing a private hospital as professional men enlisted. Women from all walks of life also volunteered as nurses, and the staff of 200 personnel was not only highly skilled, but their time there produced many tales of bravery, dedication and deep friendships. Boer commandos operated in the vicinity on several occasions, and skirmishes outside the gates caused casualties: both British and enemy soldiers were treated in the hospital.
We learn about the many individuals who contributed in some way to the success of Deelfontein’s hospital through a series of cameos - brief biographies of soldiers, doctors, surgeons, donors, nurses, and more. The final chapter covers those who are buried at the Deelfontein cemetery - almost the only remaining sign that a hospital ever existed.
Other stories, and mysteries, are interwoven with medical history: the Adamstein family emigrated to South Africa and ended up at Deelfontein where they established a trading store and went on to build a luxury hotel, with walled gardens in which peacocks and cranes strutted.
The story of the post office-that-never-was provides light relief, its ruins now lie alongside reasonably well-maintained cemeteries. Visitors to this rather forlorn spot report they have the feeling of being watched in this deserted place, while the local railway siding attendant takes it for granted that the site is haunted.
The tales are further brought to life with the fascinating collection of old, and a few contemporary, photographs scattered liberally through the book. Interior scenes of the chapel, wards, operating theatre (and an operation in progress) offer proof of just how well organised and equipped the Imperial Yeomanry Hospital was. Sad pictures of a poor family living in an informal settlement near the hospital and another of dead horses - the “true losers” as Willis labels them - offer brief glimpses of the accompanying misery of war.
This treasury combines South African military with medical history alongside tales of the Anglo-Boer war most will not have encountered. It’s a volume to dip into frequently, and to take with you if you choose to visit the site where today cemeteries and the ruins of the Adamstein’s hotel rub eerie shoulders in the heart of the Great Karoo.
How many of Willis’s fans have waited for this story to come to light? In the acknowledgements, the list of friends, geologists, ecologists, heritage experts, farmers, researchers, archivists and relatives who contributed is extensive. Willis, known to many readers as the founder and compiler of Rose’s Round-up, found time between teaching and writing to dig deep into intercontinental events that weave the tapestry of this extraordinary hospital.
She was helped in her research by Dr Arnold van Dyk, an authority on the Boer War, while another expert, Prof Kay de Villiers, a Cape Town neurosurgeon and expert on both the war and its medical aspects also supplied valuable input.
For more information, email [email protected] or Rose Willis at [email protected]