Chapter 384: Taking On Urgent Responsibility
"Damn it, you still have the nerve to come back alive!" Young Pretorius slapped Wiggins, who had just escaped from East Africa, right across the face.
He was President of the Transvaal Republic. By this year, young Pretorius should have already stepped down from the presidency, but the sudden invasion by East Africa forced him to remain in office.
As the eldest son of Andries Pretorius, the leader who guided the Boers in their Great Trek, young Pretorius enjoyed unmatched prestige among the Boers. He had once simultaneously led the Transvaal Republic and the Orange Free State, even pushing for a merger of the two, but it failed due to heavy-handed methods—or in other words, an unequal distribution of spoils.
A bright red handprint was left on Wiggins's face, a burning pain pulsing there. Yet, facing young Pretorius, he didn't dare even draw a sharp breath.
"Mr. President, all of this is part of the East Africans' plan. Initially, they never told me that the letter was a declaration of war—they casually handed it over, clearly on purpose to lull me into complacency. Then, while I was delivering the letter, they launched a sneak attack on Transvaal. From the start, the East Africans showed nothing but wolfish treachery; it was all meticulously arranged by them!" Wiggins said.
"Hmph! There's no use saying more. Because of your negligence, we've lost at least several days to respond. Right now, the East Africans are moving fast from the banks of the Limpopo toward Pretoria, and we have no way to gather our troops in time to stop them. That's no small responsibility, and it can't be dismissed by merely blaming the 'East Africans' scheme!'"
At the moment, young Pretorius wanted nothing more than to drag Wiggins out and execute him as someone who'd done more harm than good. But he didn't do that. In the end, the real cause was his own secret plan to support the Ndebele rebels. Not only did that plan fail to harm East Africa, it left him vulnerable to retaliation. Still, the East African Kingdom was far too ruthless—just because of that, they decided to invade Transvaal? In any case, he had to admit most of the fault lay with him.
As he pondered how to deal with Wiggins, someone burst through the door of the presidential office. "Mr. President, news just arrived. The East Africans have already taken Pietersburg, and now they're less than a hundred miles from Pretoria!"
Hearing that, young Pretorius was aghast. "Damn it, when did Pietersburg fall? And when can our main force fighting the Zulus in the east return to defend Pretoria?"
"Mr. President, Pietersburg fell three days ago. Our riders drove two horses to death rushing back here as quickly as possible to bring the news. As for our main force, there's been no word. Most likely they're tied up by the Zulus and can't get away for now."
"Damn it!" Young Pretorius slammed his hand on the desk in anger. Collecting himself, he said to the high officials in government, "Any ideas on how to stop the East Africans?"
Those in the Transvaal Republic's government office looked at one another in silence.
"Mr. President, if I may speak bluntly, right now we in Transvaal are like lambs waiting for slaughter in front of East Africa. Especially now that Pietersburg has fallen, there's no buffer at all ahead of Pretoria. Our biggest mistake was underestimating those East Africans' treachery. We should have stationed more troops on the southern side of the Limpopo. We wouldn't be so powerless now."
"Yes, Mr. President. The Pietersburg militia was practically our only available force besides the troops fighting the Zulus. Now they've all been captured. If we try to mobilize more men within Transvaal, it's already too late. The East Africans won't give us time."
The officials all talked over one another, yet no one could offer a solution. Young Pretorius clenched his back teeth so hard it felt like they might crack.
"Enough! Since no one can propose a plan, we'll follow my arrangements. We can't lose the Transvaal Republic. It's the blood and sweat of my father and every Boer—the home of our people. We can't organize a defense here in Transvaal now. So I've decided to send someone to the Orange Free State to ask for reinforcements, while we hold Pretoria to the very last, fighting the East Africans to the death!"
Though the Orange Free State's territory was smaller than Transvaal's, at this moment it had a much higher population, mainly thanks to the development of the Kimberley diamond mines and its closer proximity to Cape Town. When Boers migrated north from the Cape, the first place they reached was the Orange Free State.
Currently, the East African forces had attacked Transvaal in three directions. Much of the land was already lost. There were only two ways left to resist: recalling the troops fighting the Zulus or seeking help from their "brothers" in the Orange Free State.
The first option obviously wouldn't make it in time. Since young Pretorius heard about the East African attack, he'd been sending daily urgent orders for the main force to return, but the distance between Pretoria and the Zulu border was significant. It would take at least a week just for the message to get there.
Even if the Zulus didn't interfere, bringing those troops back to defend Pretoria would still take ten days to half a month in the best scenario. In the worst case, they'd stay pinned down by the Zulus at the front, never able to withdraw. Without the main force, Transvaal was like a man missing both arms, able only to get beaten by the East Africans.
"Mr. President, there's no better plan for us now. But to seek aid from the Orange Free State, only you can do it personally. Your authority is the only thing that can unite the Boers again to reclaim our homeland."
That wasn't just flattery—it was true. As the descendant of a Boer hero, young Pretorius stood on the same kind of foundation that Napoleon III did, inheriting the political capital of his father. Old Pretorius was revered by the Boers as a god of war, someone who led them from victory to victory.
With a sigh, young Pretorius said, "Alright, indeed this is something only I can do. But the government must accompany me south. We'll continue leading the fight against the East African invaders from there. However, we still need someone to stay behind and defend Pretoria, the capital and military center, against the East Africans. Who's willing to stay?"
It was practically a death sentence, and every Boer official took a step back. Clearly, Pretoria couldn't be held—at least based on the messages from Pietersburg, the East African Army's strength was formidable.
"Mr. President, let me do it!" a voice rang out. Everyone looked, and it was Wiggins!
"You?"
"Yes, Mr. President. I know defending Pretoria might be wishful thinking, but since my blunder led to this East African invasion, I'm prepared to accept the consequences. Being shot by our own people would be worthless; I'd rather fight the East Africans to the bitter end. If I must die, I'll die on the battlefield. So please, let me have this chance!" Wiggins said.
Young Pretorius didn't answer right away. Instead, he asked the others again, "No one else willing to stay in Pretoria?"
No response.
"Sigh, very well. Wiggins, I'll grant you this opportunity. Actually, you don't need to defend Pretoria to the last man—just inflict enough damage on the East Africans. That's all."
Wiggins shook his head. "I've already made up my mind to share Pretoria's fate."
No one really questioned Wiggins's ability. Indeed, they'd used him before as a military advisor to the Ndebele precisely because of his skill in warfare—particularly his knack for dealing with the Zulus. While the Ndebele were defeated by the East Africans, it wasn't Wiggins's fault, since he was only an advisor, not the actual commander.
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