By late 1900, Christiaan de Wet had become the most feared and admired guerrilla leader of the Second Boer War. While British columns controlled the major towns and railway lines, De Wet's mounted commandos roamed the Free State at will, slashing at supply convoys and vanishing before the British could respond. His raids disrupted British logistics so effectively that entire operations had to be redirected simply to pursue him. On 6 November, De Wet camped his 800 Orange Free State commandos at the farm Doornkraal near Bothaville, confident that the outposts he had positioned would alert him to any British approach. Among his party was Marthinus Steyn, the president of the Orange Free State, whose presence with the commando underscored the political dimension of the guerrilla campaign. Seven miles away, Major General Charles Knox's much larger British force was encamped, and De Wet knew it. What he did not know was that his sentries had succumbed to exhaustion.

Shortly after sunrise, De Wet received a reassuring report from a scout: no British movement detected. Minutes later, Lieutenant-Colonel P. W. J. Le Gallais led Knox's 600-man advance guard of the 5th and 8th Mounted Infantry into view, barely 300 yards from the Boer camp. Panic swept the laager. Because an alert adjutant had kept a horse saddled for President Steyn, the head of state galloped away to safety, but the speed of the British approach left most of the commandos scrambling. The bulk of De Wet's force fled on horseback in disarray, yet roughly 150 Boers stood their ground. What followed was one of the most ferocious close-range engagements of the entire war. The two sides went to ground behind farm buildings and blazed away with rifles and field guns at point-blank range. Contemporary accounts described it as one of the grimmest and most gallant small actions of the conflict.

The cost was severe for both sides. Le Gallais, the officer whose dash had created the surprise, was mortally wounded during the fighting and died that same night. Lieutenant-Colonel Wally Ross of the 8th Mounted Infantry took a grievous wound to the face. In total, about 38 British soldiers were killed or wounded. The Boers who stayed to fight suffered heavily too, and the material losses were devastating: six field guns, a Maxim gun, a pom-pom, and all of De Wet's wagons carrying ammunition, clothing, and supplies fell into British hands. For a guerrilla force that depended on mobility and captured resources, the loss was crippling. Yet the victory was incomplete. Major General Knox, despite having a far superior force at his disposal, failed to pursue the fleeing Boers. One of his officers, Hickie, was furious, writing that Knox was 'an old woman' and that Le Gallais's aggressive spirit, had it been shared by the general, would have led to the capture of the entire commando.

The aftermath revealed just how resilient De Wet's guerrilla campaign was. Despite losing his artillery, his ammunition wagons, and a significant portion of his supplies, De Wet reassembled his forces and within a fortnight was back on the offensive at the head of 1,500 burghers, striking at British garrisons and supply convoys as though Bothaville had never happened. The battle illustrated a central frustration of the British war effort: tactical victories against the Boer commandos rarely translated into strategic results, because the guerrillas could disperse, regroup, and fight again. Bothaville today is a small agricultural town in the Free State, and the farm Doornkraal where the battle raged has returned to the quiet rhythms of the veld. The Valsch River still curves past the site, indifferent to the morning when 150 men chose to stand and fight rather than run, and two armies paid in blood for a few hours of contested ground.