FRONTIER LIFE
Routine in the early days of war, in the camps on the frontier of British
East Africa in 1915, was like unto a watch-dog’s duties.
The Uganda Railway, running parallel to the boundary from Mombasa, on
the East Coast, to Kisumu, on Lake Victoria Nyanza, had to be vigorously
protected from raiding parties; and a force larger than our own had to be
held at bay until a sufficient army could be sent out to take the field
and the offensive.
[Sidenote: ENCAMPMENTS AND PATROLS]
Small encampments, manned with a handful of daring, miscellaneous
soldiers, had sprung into being all along the frontier.
Every station along the boundary was alert and aware of the presence of
enemy; and frequent were the alarms and skirmishes.
Amongst thorn “bush,” in dreary landscape of consistent sameness,
those stations were everywhere hidden—a mere gathering of small tents,
within limited enclosures built up of sharp-spiked, tangled, thorn-tree
branches. These enclosures were called “bomas,” and were, against
an enemy surprise, as complete a protection as barbed wire. Water,
always the chief concern of existence in Africa, was usually in the
neighbourhood of those encampments. Sometimes, if the camp was a main
station, water was brought by pipe line from the hills; but most often,
the supply for a small camp was that of the adjacent muddy “water hole.”
They were those stagnant pools of water so often spoken of by travellers
who have written of interior Africa and know her thirst. Those pools of
water—a single pool in a swampy bed or in a barren river bottom—are of
uncertain quality and of uncertain supply. It was usual to place a guard
over such scanty supply, and order a very bare ration to be served to
each individual each day.
_Patrols_ were the chief concern of those bush encampments. They
were unceasingly active, daily, nightly, moving out into the vague,
half-unmapped country, to cover many miles in quest of enemy patrols or
raiding parties.
Those patrols seldom covered less than ten miles a day, more often twenty
miles; while occasionally long distances were covered that necessitated a
party being out from three to six days.
In this manner the frontier was kept fairly clear of enemy; especially
in the neighbourhood of the camps. The grass was tall, and the bush,
in places, very heavy, so that ambush and surprise encounters were not
infrequent. On those occasions casualties were, sometimes, on both
sides heavy; but usually it was the side which laid the ambush which
scored most heavily. To illustrate this: on one occasion, on the 4th of
September, 1915, at Maktau, a party of our M.I. was ambushed and rather
badly cut up by the enemy. The casualties in killed were eleven Europeans
and three Indians. During this encounter a young British officer named
Dartnell won the V.C. for refusing to surrender to the enemy, and
fighting right out to a finish against great odds. Ten days later this
same enemy company was ambushed by our forces and completely routed,
leaving thirty dead Askaris and one German officer on the battle-ground.
On the whole it was this sort of ding-dong fighting all along, with
the British forces holding the stronger hand. Patrols were constantly
expectant of an engagement of some description, and many became very
expert bushmen as months of this type of fighting went on.
On the 19th June, 1915, four hundred of our unit found themselves
detraining at Kisumu, on Lake Victoria Nyanza, after a long train
journey which had lasted one day and one night. On the low shore of the
lake edge they camped, near to the wharf and half-roofed freight sheds,
while other detachments came in on the railway and joined the force.
During the day, there were concentrated here, beside us, detachments of
29th Punjabis, King’s African Rifles, Loyal North Lancashires; and 28th
Mountain Battery, with their array of fine looking Sepoys, and sturdy,
well-groomed, well-fed mules.
By noon on the following day, which was a Sunday, everyone had been
packed on to the small lake steamship craft which lay at the wharf
in readiness, and the expedition sailed thenceforth, out through the
Kavirondo Gulf into the great lake.
The ships had been filled to their utmost capacity, above deck and below,
and it was a motley crowd that occupied every yard of deck space, while
pack-mules and store cattle stood roped to the ship’s rails on the upper
deck. Forward, each vessel had a gun mounted, and a space roped off and
cleared for action.
Thus we sailed from Kisumu to raid the town of Bukoba on the 22nd and
23rd June; a prosperous trade town within the German colony, on the
south-west shores of the lake, which was the base of enemy activities
against the Uganda Frontier in the vicinity of the Kagera River, and
which contained a powerful wireless plant, by which the enemy were able
to obtain, and send, important communications.
All night, and all the next day, we sailed the great lake, Victoria
Nyanza, and we had been some thirty hours on board when, at sundown on
the second day, we drew near to the enemy’s territory and slowed down,
awaiting the fall of darkness.
[Sidenote: RAID ON LAKE VICTORIA NYANZA]
It was thought to effect a night landing and make a surprise attack on
the town, and plans were all prepared for this. In this connection three
privates were voluntarily selected for a novel undertaking: it was
arranged that an Australian bushman, a Canadian from the Yukon, and self
(I was then a private) were to go ahead at landing and try to overpower,
and kill if necessary, a certain sentry whose post was known to our
command. But all plans were changed in the end, for, about midnight, when
our lightless phantom ships were drawing in to Bukoba, wakeful watchers
on a high island, that lay out in the bay before the town, detected our
approach in the light of the half-full moon, and five great rockets shot
in warning into the sky. The alarm was out! Soldiers in the town would be
rushing to arms and our landing on the beach would now be in the face of
enemy waiting to receive us. Thus, plans were changed, and the ships drew
away from shore, beyond the vision of the enemy, and stood to, waiting
for dawn.
When dawn approached we again moved toward land. A force was to threaten
a landing away south of the town, while the main forces drew in behind a
long promontory north of Bukoba Bay.
Close on dawn our ship dropped anchor and boats were lowered; and, one by
one, they were filled with troops, and left the ship’s side for shore;
while the ship trembled from stem to stern beneath the shock of her
gun-fire, which was now rapidly shelling the heights before us, and the
hidden positions beyond. Beneath the steep hill-face of the promontory
each boat ran aground on the beach, and the troops scrambled overboard
and waded ashore.
[Sidenote: ATTACKING BUKOBA]
It was breaking daylight when we began filing up the steep mountain-side,
which was cliff-like in places, and the climb to the top proved a stiff
one, of close on a mile in distance, and very breathless were we when the
summit was reached, while we judged it our great good fortune that this
awkward ground had been covered unopposed by enemy. Advancing across the
summit, south toward Bukoba, some resistance was encountered there in the
banana plantations and forest, but the real fighting did not begin until
we reached the southern slopes and looked out on the town of Bukoba, some
two miles distant, situated on low land that swept back from the shores
of the lake to the foot of the hills, and over the intervening bouldered,
rocky hill country, and on to the commanding heights, above the town,
on the west and south. It was then that serious fighting began, and all
day—while the ships shelled from the lake—we fought in attack against the
enemy, who, to begin with, held out amongst the rocks and clumps of trees
in the broken hills before us, and who, latterly, defended the commanding
hills north-west of the town.
It was real guerilla warfare. From rock to rock one could see men dodge,
while puffs of smoke puffed in and out from behind scores of rocks, and
from many a tree-clump bottom. The enemy were here using the old ·450
rifle and black powder and lead bullets, hence the prominence of the
smoke-puffs. On the whole front all was visible, even the enemy’s single
piece of artillery, which was plainly seen in position by the river-side
in the low flat ground north of the town, and which the Mountain Battery
guns in a short time knocked out of action, before turning their
attention to the enemy machine-guns, which were not so easy to deal with.
In the afternoon we worked down the last of the hill-slopes under
constant fire of our foes, and, toward evening, gathering our tired
limbs under us, a charge was ordered. Across an open meadow we doubled,
cheering lustily; through swamp and river, almost neck-high in water,
and, finally, up the hill-side opposite, and on to the lower hill-top of
the enemy’s coveted position commanding the town; there to lie, panting
breathlessly, picking off the fleeing enemy that we could see dodging
among the rocks in endeavour to reach the higher hill, across a ravine
and to the west of us.
Meantime the Loyal North Lancashires, who had made a wide flank movement,
were advancing in on the higher hill from the west; and ere darkness set
in we were in full possession of the chief positions.
Had there been more daylight, it is possible that we should have taken
the town this day, for the enemy were on the run; but darkness overtook
us, and night gave the enemy opportunity to reorganise.
We camped for the night on the hill, chilled, and blanketless, and
foodless; for no supplies followed us as it was a short undertaking. In
the early part of the night, the force which had made a demonstration to
the south of the town were landed on the beach near to us, and joined our
force.
At daylight a fighting line was formed across the flats, from the hills
to the lake; and an advance began toward the town in face of steady
rifle and machine-gun fire. The river we had crossed yesterday had swung
southward and ran parallel with the lake, and here again proved an
obstacle, and many of us got thoroughly wet crossing and recrossing it.
Also, in the morning, in the heat of the early fighting, a thunderstorm
burst and heavy rains fell, while we lay in the grass drenched to the
skin for an hour or two, and rifle locks choked with sand and moisture.
For a time firing ceased on both sides; to resume again as it cleared.
Bit by bit, we pushed on across the flat, to be held up for a time before
the entrance to the town; and then, breaking the opposition down, to
enter the town without further resistance on the heels of the fleeing foe.
[Sidenote: WIRELESS STATION DESTROYED]
But there we did not stop, for our unit passed on through the town—which
had a beautiful broad main road parallel to the lake front, and many fine
Colonial residences within flower-decked, shaded grounds—and occupied the
high hill-summit on the south, while, in the town, the great power-house
containing the wireless plant, and the fort, and all ammunition and
stores, were blown up and destroyed by our engineers.
Late in the afternoon we evacuated the hills and came down through banana
plantations on to the road and into the town; there to witness the
impressive burial of our fallen comrades near to the central square.
At sundown re-embarkation commenced, and at daylight the following day
the ships drew out from Bukoba pier, and lay to, waiting until the
outlying pickets were gathered in. When they put out from shore and were
taken aboard, we steamed away northward to get back within our frontier,
while most men lay down anywhere and slept, for there had been little
rest since we had landed three days ago.
On the 26th June we were again in Kisumu, and were given a joyous
reception by the natives, who showed extraordinary interest in the affair.
Three days later we were back in camp—back to the bush, and the routine
of frontier patrols.
To give some little idea of the ordinary days of life in a frontier
encampment the following notes may serve:
MAKTAU, _20th Aug., 1915._
Fortifying camp, taken over yesterday. All day on trench construction.
Gangs of our fellows working well and cheerfully. Hearty jokes among
themselves constantly brace them against their trying labours in the
excessive heat.
Patrol attacked near camp this morning by enemy party trying to mine
the railway. One private killed, three wounded. The enemy scattered and
cleared off as soon as the first surprise shots were over. They attacked
from hiding cover in the bush, whence they had viewed the approach of our
patrol down the bare straight line of the single-track railway.
MAKTAU, _21st Aug., 1915_.
On trench work all day, same as yesterday. Dust-begrimed and filthy. Hope
for opportunity to wash and change to-morrow.
Last night an Indian sentry was shot by enemy who crept up to the camp
entrance in the darkness.
MAKTAU, _22nd Aug., Sunday_.
Trench work in early morning and again in forenoon; then “knocked off”
all hands for Sunday relaxation.
Early this morning enemy again on Voi railway near here. This time they
succeeded in laying mines which blew up the line and derailed an incoming
train. Enemy got clear away.
MAKTAU, _23rd Aug., 1915_.
Railway line repaired and open to traffic this morning.
[Sidenote: A WATCHFUL ENCAMPMENT]
On outpost last night on kopje below Signal Hill. Nothing untoward
occurred, though this picket had been twice attacked lately. Strong S.W.
Monsoon blowing: bitterly cold for sentries on windward front of kopje.
Damp mist driving over the level bush-land below us, obscuring everything
in the early morning.
Silent dawn, except for the strident cry of guinea-fowl, spur-fowl,
and hornbills; and the lesser “cheepings” of awakening songbirds that
mouse-like stirred amongst the surrounding foliage.
Picket relieved at 9 a.m. It was dark at 6.15 p.m. and day dawned at 5.30
a.m. Sunrise three-quarters of an hour later.
MAKTAU, _28th Aug., 1915_.
Out on patrol all day over country west of camp. Party, ten whites and
two natives. Uneventful day—no enemy sighted or tracked.
Three rhinoceros encountered at close quarters; one being a very large
one with splendid forehead horns. All were allowed to go their way
unmolested, since they showed no inclination to charge, and pleasure
shooting was not permissible in enemy country.
MAKTAU, _3rd Sept., 1915_.
Out on reconnaissance, to position enemy holding about eight miles west
of our camp. Moving quietly through bush—our party two whites and two
porters.
On outward journey ran across a rhinoceros, who charged on hearing stick
break underfoot; but he stopped about ten yards short, when he then got
our wind, and cleared off rapidly with a quick turn and snort, apparently
afraid of us. Self and companion, at the sound of the rushing crash of
the charge, had backed behind stoutish trees, with rifles ready, but the
natives, in an incredibly short moment, had squirmed frantically into the
bushes overhead. They were fully frightened, poor wretches—but they were
low-caste porters.
Observations were made of enemy camp while lying close to position in
evening and early part of night. Later, slept under a tree in the bush.
Night bitterly cold; dozed intermittently, but keeping a wakeful uneasy
eye for the most part. Idly watching the stars when awake. The Southern
Cross set about 9.30 p.m. and the pointers about midnight.
Saw many eland on return journey, beautiful beasts. In shape and solid
form they are at a distance like Jersey cattle in an English park. Also
saw one lion, three jackals, some herds of Grant’s gazelle, and about a
dozen mongoose.
[Sidenote: OPERATIONS IN DIFFICULT BUSH]
On reaching camp heard of M.I. engagement, already mentioned, from which
our men had just returned. On our travels we had almost been over the
ground on which the engagement took place, yet in the maze of bush and
tall grass we had seen nothing. It is very difficult, for those who have
not seen the country, to conceive how terribly possible secretive work
is in this virgin bush-land, where vegetation grows luxuriant and rank in
vast uninhabited areas. It is not the enemy in themselves that are the
difficult foe to conquer; it is the bush that hampers everything, and
hides almost all of the evil planned against us. The unpleasant game,
though it is a game on a much larger scale, is like hunting a snake in
the long grass. And who was ever sure of trapping a snake unless he was
come upon unawares, and a complete ring formed around his chosen cover?
Even then, notwithstanding the great care with which the cordon may close
in, the snake may escape through an unguarded yard of grass, just as a
patrol, or an army, if it has sharp eyes everywhere, may escape, under
cover of the screening bush, through the narrowest of openings and be
gone and hopelessly lost in a single night.
MAKTAU, _1st Oct., 1915_.
To-day an aeroplane made an ascent from camp. This is the first flight
made here, and the African natives were spell-bound in amazement at sight
of the wonderful machine and its graceful flying. At once they termed
it “Ndege” (the Swahili for “bird”), and thereafter they always called
aeroplanes by that name.
’Planes should prove of immense value to us out here now that they have
been landed in the country. The Germans have no machines, and are very
unlikely to succeed in securing any, since they are isolated from the
outer world and the open seas.
TIETA HILLS, _26th Dec., 1915_.
After holding the ranks of private, lance-corporal, corporal, and
lance-sergeant, it has been my fortune to receive my commission. I leave
the ranks with regret, for it has, on the whole, been a gay, care-free,
rough-and-tumble experience, and one which teaches that among all types
“a man’s a man for a’ that,” and that there are few who have not their
finer feelings beneath any kind of veneer.
[Sidenote: NIGHT SCOUTING]
At 9.30 p.m. moved out to watch railway, at a point five miles from
camp, hoping to catch mine-layers. Dark night; starlit sky, but no moon.
Sentries on outskirts of camp spoken to, and passed. Party wearing
moccasins, boots on hard road or in dry bush very noisy. Alert to catch
the slightest sound, hearing being more important than sight in the
darkness.
About 11 p.m. held up by rhinoceros moving about on left of road,
breaking undergrowth and branches close ahead. Could not see whether
he meant to charge or not, and there was a moment’s suspense on that
account, but eventually he moved off quietly. Later, at first railway
crossing over road, below a great dark mango tree on the river-side, the
leading scout caught a glint of the small, red glow of a dying fire. We
halted and waited, but no sound was audible, though a man’s breathing
could have almost been heard in the calm stillness. On venturing forward,
a deserted fire, almost out, was found. Whoever lit it had used it and
gone, but they had left a mark that would arouse suspicion. Such signs
of the enemy’s presence were constantly being found. The moon rose at
10.30. Everything clear then, and our forms, moving stealthily along at
wide intervals, showed dark on the dust-white road. Reached point on road
overlooking railway about midnight and lay down in bush, each of the four
comprising the party in turn keeping watch to detect any movement of
enemy.
Night passed quietly, stirred only by African sounds. Among the high
trees on the river-bank, beyond the railway, monkeys yelled occasionally
and snapped off dry branches as they swung from limb to limb. A solitary
owl hoo-hooed away out in the distant darkness, and once or twice the
weird clatter-ratchet of a hornbill, wakeful in the moonlight, like a
barndoor fowl, broke the stillness.
Sometimes, too, an animal of prey would betray its presence and its
prowling: the deep blood-curdling howl of the hyena and the dog-like bark
of the jackal at times awoke the silence, for one or two brief moments,
ere, phantom-like, they were swallowed in the dark, fathomless pit of
night, and lost on their onward trail.
At daybreak, white morning mists came down over the bush-land and
obscured everything; soon they rose again and cleared.
Back from the roadside, in the bush, we made a small fire and warmed and
cheered ourselves with a hot cup of tea.
Later we returned pleasantly to camp, having joined in with the railway
patrol, which came out along the line at daybreak some fifty strong.
NAMANGA, _27th Feb., 1916_.
[Sidenote: SEARCHING DIFFICULT COUNTRY]
A small reconnaissance patrol climbed the densely bush-forested slope of
Ol Doinyo Orok mountain to-day. Mountain-sides overcrowded with trees,
cactus, and undergrowth, in tropical uncultivated confusion. Contrary to
the usual in country of this nature, no roller-like game paths of the
ponderous rhinoceros could be found breaking a way to the higher ground.
The ascent was therefore begun up a small river-course, in a delightfully
picturesque ravine down which trickled and murmured a stream of running
water. Progress was made slowly up this water-course, for the way was
continually obstructed by huge granite boulders, and cliff-like falls
which were surmounted only by the aid of a rope. By stiff climbing we
completed about half the ascent, and were then confronted with impassable
cliffs over which scanty water trickled. The patrol then branched off
the course of the stream, and attempted to find easier passage through
the forest above the ravine on the right. This forest, however, proved
desperately difficult to penetrate, compelling us to continual stooping,
and forcing of way, through cruel barriers of jagged, tearing thorn.
Here, too, the ascent was very steep, and, at times, detours had to
be made to avoid an unclimbable cliff face. Defeat was unpalatable;
otherwise we must early on have given up the undertaking. As it was, we
stuck grimly to our task, and finally reached the summit at 4.30 p.m.
On our ascent on the east bank of the river, a cave had been found which,
by reason of newly cut sticks and an old fire, had evidently been used
by enemy scouts, at the time of our advance into this area, a few days
previously. Otherwise, the mountain held no signs of recent occupation.
After resting a short time, and exploring the plateau on the summit,
the descent was commenced. All might have gone well, but darkness came
down before we were half-way out of the bush, and then our troubles
really began. It was impossible to see more than a yard before one, and
thorn and boulders and pitfalls played havoc with faces and limbs, as
downward we clambered laboriously in the inky darkness. It was, at one
time, proposed, in despair, to give up, and to camp where we were without
blankets, but at that time some one made the inspired suggestion to use
lighted faggots. This idea was carried into force, and by the aid of
their uncertain light we were able to grapple with, and partly avoid,
the barriers of cruel fanged bush, and at last managed to extricate
ourselves from the deep forest of shapeless, sightless jungle. But not
until the entire patrol was torn and bleeding and sore, and completely,
almost hopelessly, tired out. They were sadder and wiser men who wearily
dragged into camp long after midnight, avowing everlasting denunciation
on African jungle.
Nevertheless expeditions of this kind were commonplace enough to scouts
who endeavoured to understand almost every landmark on our border that
might harbour the enemy. Sometimes they were fruitless expeditions,
sometimes they were the means of obtaining valuable information.
[Sidenote: RAINS, SNOWFALL ON KILIMANJARO]
For the greater part of the year those frontier operations were carried
on in the excessively hot, unchangeable climate of tropical Africa.
Through the intensive heat of the piercing overhead sun, the routine work
went on day after day, and month after month. Not until December was
there change, and then there was a period of heavy torrential rains. But
ere the month was out they had ceased again, and the rich green foliage
of the acacias, which had sprung in a day to life, had begun to fade and
lose their freshness; so soon does the blazing sun dry up the abundant
rainfall, and scorch the very earth.
[Illustration: KILIMANJARO FROM SOUTH-WEST: 19,700 FEET.]
Locusts, and their following of storks, are heralds of the Rains, and
near to that season great clouds of them were seen. Remarkable swarms
of locusts were witnessed on the 25th November and 5th December, 1915,
and again on 21st February, 1916. Great clouds of them, darkening the
very sky in their tens of millions, drifted down wind slowly, in a
south-westerly direction, over camp on those dates; and above them, on
the last occasion, high in the sky, followed a very large flight of black
and white storks, sailing along, with the ease of a floating feather,
with wing-still, wind-poised motion, apparently planing on the banking of
the air; and now and then checking their onward flight, to swing slowly
and gracefully in a circle, as if to hesitate and examine the ground far
underneath them.
At the time of the Rains, too, fresh snow fell on Mount Kilimanjaro, the
highest mountain in Africa, with the elevation of over 19,700 feet. In
1915 the first fresh snowfall was on 25th November, and on the morning of
that day a new white coat of snow mantled the peaks of Kibo and Mawensi,
and well down their slopes.
A native once told me that if he could climb to the far-off glistening
snows, he would find rupees. And he seemed seriously to believe that the
snows, which glinted silver-like in the sun, were unattainable wealth.
On the frontier, when not scouting, or on patrol, or on picket, it
sometimes fell to our lot to have a day in camp.
[Sidenote: ROUTINE IN CAMP]
In camp, “_Réveillé_” was at 5.30 a.m.—just about daybreak. The able
men then dressed, and, outside their tents, shook out their dust and
insect-ridden blankets, in which they had slept on the bare hard ground.
The lazy, and the seedy, and the really sick men, slept on fitfully
until the last possible moment before the “Fall In,” at 6.30 a.m.; then
reluctantly to turn out in cheerless spirit.
On early morning parade “the roll” was first called. The sick were then
excused from duty, and the remainder marched off with shovels and picks
and axes to dig trenches and construct overhead shell-shelters, wherever
the fortifications of our encampment required strengthening.
Such mornings passed quickly, and work went ahead, for, in the cool of
the rising day, the labours were not unpleasant. Most men made light of
their morning’s work, and enjoyed getting up a keen healthy appetite ere
the “Fall Out” for 8 o’clock breakfast.
Breakfast consisted generally of a measured ration of bread, cheese, and
tea: sometimes bacon replaced the cheese, sometimes jam.
The second morning parade fell in at 9 a.m., and again the men in camp
were sent on to the fortifications. But now work was carried on in the
heat of the tropic sun, for a soldier’s duties are at any hour of the
day or night, and in any weather, in any hemisphere. They laboured on in
the heat, swearing and joking (I think a soldier will joke, aye, even
in H⸺) and perspiring, and with faces and clothes smothered in the fine
red lava sand, which was raised by the labouring picks and shovels, or
which incessantly wafted down-wind in gusts off the bare compound of
the encampment. But, nevertheless, the work went forward, for it had to
go, and defences became duly more and more impregnable. About noon the
working party fell out for lunch, which consisted of a ration of bread,
jam, and tea.
Lunch over, the men rested until 4.30 p.m. Some fitfully slept under
stifling hot canvas, others washed clothes down by the trough, or bathed
themselves with water from a bucket, standing naked in the open; while
still others gambled, mildly, over halfpenny nap and threepenny bridge.
The afternoon parade fell in at 4.30 p.m. and worked as before on
trenches for another hour and a half. It was then time to “Fall Out” for
dinner.
Dinner consisted _always_ of badly cooked stew, an unchanging dish which
became deadly monotonous, and which, in time, many men could not touch,
their palate revolted so strongly against the unseasoned, uninviting
mixture.
[Sidenote: SHORT RATIONS]
I have particularly mentioned food, because, even when rations were
full—and they were often not—our soldiers were nearly always troubled
with that subject throughout the East Africa Campaign. It is wonderful
what men, living outdoors, can subsist on, but, at the same time, I will
never believe that the cut-and-dry army ration, as served in Africa,
is sufficient for men carrying on arduous operations in an intensely
tropical climate. All units experienced a tremendous amount of sickness,
and I am certain, in my own mind—and many others agree with me—that at
least half of the sickness was caused, directly or indirectly, from
lack of full and proper nourishment for a prolonged period. Transport
difficulties, and the greater wars in Europe, no doubt had a strong
guiding influence with the commissariat; and for such, allowances must
be made. I have but little inclination to raise the subject now, for
the roughness of war is always to be expected and borne, but for the
future it is well to write down the harsh experiences of the past so
that others, in like undertakings, may gain an insight into such things,
and prepare for them, or seek to obtain a reconstruction. Food was a big
question in Africa, and, if such a campaign should be called for again in
any far-off country, administrators would do well to give serious thought
to a serious subject that might well in the end save the nation both life
and expenditure.
On the frontier, men had very few means of adding to their rations.
Parcels from home, in many cases, found them most of the luxuries they
ever enjoyed. Again, at some places a venturous Goanese trader set up
small wood-framed shack-stores, and dispensed to the troops a few odds
and ends in very limited quantities. The chief luxuries (?) which the men
sought I give below, and a comparison in African and English prices:
Trader’s Price. English Price,
1915.
_s._ _d._ _s._ _d._
Tea, per lb. 2 6½ 1 10
Sugar, per lb. 0 6½ 0 1½
Butter, per lb. 1 4 1 2
Milk, condensed 0 11 0 6½
Worcester Sauce 2 0 0 9
Soap, per lb. 0 10½ 0 3½
Cigarettes, “King Stork,” per 10 packet 0 2 —
On those groceries, or such-like, every penny of a man’s pay was often
spent the day he received it. Whenever the trader received a fresh lot
of goods the news would fly about camp, and, as soon as night-fall came
and liberated the soldiers from duty, he would be besieged by toil-worn
troops hungry for luxuries, and speedily everything in demand would be
sold out.
In one other way was it sometimes possible to obtain a change of diet:
that was by game shooting. A good many buck, wart-hog, guinea-fowl, and
partridges found their way into camp at one time or other, and furnished
a few fortunate ones with a very welcome addition to the routine fare.
[Sidenote: GAME HUNTING WITH SELOUS]
One of the first hunting outings which I experienced was with Capt. W.,
Lieut. F. C. Selous, and the “Doc.,” when I accompanied them on a trek to
make a sketch of certain country they were going into. We were at this
time camped in the open upland bush near Kajiado. Mounted on mules we had
travelled overnight to a selected camp. Selous—fine sportsman that he
was—was as keen as ever on a hunt, and the party were merry as sand-boys.
Next morning all were astir at daylight. Before breakfast some spur-fowl
were shot close to the near-by water-hole, and fried for the meal.
They were delicious eating. After breakfast the mules were saddled and
mounted, and we rode onward. In the forenoon we sighted one lion—which
escaped under cover of a thickly bushed valley—two wart-hog, three
waterbuck, a few hartebeeste and mpala, and many giraffe. Selous had an
unsuccessful shot at an mpala, but, otherwise, the game were allowed to
go unmolested, as all were wild and no exceptionally good heads were
singled out. We made the noon halt in rolling, somewhat open bush country
and haltered the mules, to picket them there. After lunching the party
went in divergent directions on foot. Capt. W. and self proceeded to the
highest hill-crest in the neighbourhood, and I there settled for the
afternoon to pencil a panoramic sketch of the country before me. Capt.
W. then left me. Later I learned he had, on his return tramp to camp,
shot a hartebeeste for meat. But game proved very wary. Selous and the
“Doc.” returned without securing a single head, though they had seen
mpala, eland, giraffe, and a rhinoceros. Masai natives were grazing
many cattle in this area at the time of our visit, and the game were
evidently kept moving and wild by constant disturbance of the cattle and
their cattle-herds. At any rate, as far as game heads, and meat, were
concerned, it was not a successful outing. But it was all very enjoyable
and a holiday from soldiering. To me it was a memorable outing because it
recalls to mind one of my first meetings with Selous. It was the first of
many meetings, for, in after days, we joined in many a successful hunt,
the old hunter and the young attracted together by a mutual enthusiasm
for Nature and the Open Road.
These, above, are a few notebook entries. It will be seen that a
soldier’s life in 1915 was not without variety and adventure in a theatre
of war of which the outer world, in those days, heard very little. Yet
it was the beginning of a great undertaking which, in its turn, has been
overshadowed, almost overlooked, on account of the gigantic world-war
raging in Europe, and resounding on England’s doorstep.
Towards the end of 1915 rumours were prevalent that strong South African
forces were to arrive in the country.
About the same time the Germans, who apparently had information of
our movements, increased their activities on the border from Voi to
Kilindini. Perhaps their biggest effort at interference was when a
strong force of Germans occupied the prominent hill position of Kasigau
and threatened the Uganda Railway from the S.E. of Voi. Obviously,
if they could break on to our only up-country railway and line of
communication, at such a time, they had much to gain. However, in this
they were forestalled. Forces were sent to oppose them in their mountain
stronghold, on the heels of their arrival, and eventually they were
forced to evacuate without accomplishing anything.
At this period signs were not wanting of the coming of forces. Around the
old camps extensive spaces were cleared of bush in readiness for camping
grounds. Supplies of all kinds arrived daily, by train or by wagon
transport, and were stacked in huge piles in the open. Everywhere, in the
frontier camps, could be seen added activities and increased optimism.
For two months this sort of thing had been going on, until one fine
day—the 16th of January, 1916—the first large contingent of South African
troops passed through Voi, and detrained at Maktau. The critical period
was over; here was compensation at last for long months of waiting and
watching.
Daily the arrival of troops, horses, mules, and baggage went on, and
daily our spirits rose at the prospect of the coming advance into the
enemy’s country.