THE SECOND TREK
On 14th May, 1916, I received orders to take the entire transport from
Kibosho, west of Moschi, back to Mbuyuni, on the Taveta side, where the
column was rapidly outfitting for another advance. The rains were over.
Our rest at Moschi was at an end.
After a few days’ hurried preparation we marched out from Mbuyuni in the
afternoon of the 18th of May, and continued on the way all through the
night. It was a memorable march. I happened to be temporarily in charge
of battalion transport, and had to set out with a batch of “green” mules
which had been allotted to me on the previous day, and some of which had
never had a saddle on. All through the trek it was incessantly a case
of chasing escaped mules across country, repairing broken harness, and
resaddling the rearing, frightened, stubborn brutes. I, and my comrades,
spent the whole night on horseback, rounding up runaways, on the
outskirts of the column, and we had our hands full. During our labours,
four mules were completely lost in the dark; they had been either
overrun and left far behind, or they had been caught by others. However,
we got into camp in the end with two over our complement, for others had
experienced the same difficulties as ourselves all along the column; and
when in a tight corner, there is a popular old army maxim which says that
“the Lord helps those that help themselves.” So we had helped ourselves,
when we found stray animals without an owner. This first day out was the
worst, in dealing with the transport animals, and very soon hard work and
experience had won them all over to steady-going patient beasts of burden.
The column marched in stages from Mbuyuni to Taveta, from Taveta to Himo
River, and from Himo River to Kahe; the battle-field of the 21st of
March, and the line at which operations ceased when the rains overtook
us. From Mbuyuni to Kahe was a trek of forty-two miles, and it was
accomplished in three days, which was good going for a burdened column
over bad roads.
[Sidenote: OFF DOWN THE PANGANI RIVER]
At Kahe we rested a day and marched at midnight on 22nd-23rd May. The
column was now trekking through bush and following the course of the
Pangani River, about a quarter of a mile east of its banks. Thus, we
hold well west of the Usambara Railway, but are travelling parallel to
it. This is a sound manœuvre, for our position here will always worry
the enemy in front of our forces operating on, or near, the railway in
conjunction with us. It is clearly seen that, should the enemy on the
railway make a stand, they would at once be threatened with a flank
or rear movement from this side, unless they had sufficient forces
to oppose, and hold, both columns. The country through which we are
passing is flat, and mostly grown with thorn bush. There are no hills,
excepting the distant ranges far out on our right and left. The soil here
is sandy, and sometimes lava-strewn. Signs of game are plentiful. The
column marched for ten hours before, in the forenoon of the following
day, halt was called, and we camped. All were tired out, for, under any
circumstances, a night march is trying; but we had been losing sleep
for some days now, and were feeling strained accordingly. Regarding
night marching, it is extraordinary how difficult it becomes to keep
awake, either marching or on horseback, when monotonously plodding
along. Commonly you will see a man dozing on his feet, but marching
unsteadily on, and if the man in front of him should have occasion to
halt, the sleeping man behind will walk forcibly into him, as an unseeing
pedestrian may bump into a lamp-post.
During the early morning, on to-day’s march, an astonishing incident
occurred. Some of us, on the transport line, were suddenly startled by
the rush of an animal from the bush, and were amazed to witness a buck
jump clean across the road, over the top of a double line of mules. Half
a dozen white men and some natives saw this almost unbelievable feat.
The buck landed on the far side of the road only two yards away from me,
and I think it was a hartebeeste, but in the half-light I was unable to
be quite certain of the species.
[Sidenote: BREAKING WAY THROUGH BAD BUSH]
The following day, though we started at 3 a.m., the column had only got
forward about eight miles when halt was called in the evening. Heavy
bush had been encountered and was responsible for our slow progress, for
laboriously a roadway had to be cut before the column could pass onwards.
After camp was established, working parties went out ahead to continue
hacking a clear way onward. About midnight we loaded our transport
up, and moved out on the march about 3 a.m. We trekked all day slowly
forward, and did not camp until after dark. It was a long, hard day,
and everyone is feeling the pinch of meagre rations and want of sleep.
The trail, being obstructed by heavy bush, continued bad, until in the
afternoon the column emerged into an open grass-grown valley and made
headway thenceforward smoothly and rapidly. To-day we have passed well
beyond, and outflanked, Lembeni, on the railway—the point at which the
German forces congregated on retiring from Kahe. Apparently the enemy
have cleared.
The following day, the 26th of May, the column did not trek until 1 p.m.,
so that all, thank God, had the opportunity of securing a complete
night’s sleep. Much refreshed and more cheerful was the column that
marched out to-day. Late in the evening we camped near the Pangani River,
about opposite Same Station, which lay away to the east of us on the
railway. The weather continues rainless, and very hot.
_27th May._—Trekked all day—a hot and wearisome march. The country we
passed through was level and open, and we pushed on rapidly. The enemy
are, apparently, fleeing far, for no resistance has been encountered, and
our pace is accordingly as fast as man and beast can stand. Last night,
ten Askaris and one white were captured in a patrol encounter.
_28th May._—This Sunday morning we were astir at 3 a.m. and trekked until
the late afternoon. The pace, and the heat, and the lack of water between
camps are beginning to wear down the endurance of man and animal. The
men were very tired, and cheerless, when they reached camp to-day; they
had been loaded with equipment and on their feet for thirteen hours, and
were almost past exerting themselves to cook food and look after their
odd accoutrements. The oxen and mules, too, were about “all in” ere they
reached the end of to-day’s trek, and the poor brutes, who must needs
endure all in dumb suffering, get little enough care when the men who
look after them are so very tired out at the end of such a day as this.
Still passing through good game country. One herd of buffalo and many
zebra were seen to-day.
_29th May._—At 4 a.m. loaded up transport ready to march, but did not
move off until two hours later. No rations this morning; supplies are
stuck on the road behind. When the battalion marched out I received
orders to stay back in camp to try to secure rations. This was
accomplished during the forenoon, and I then proceeded forward with three
food-loaded carts drawn by poor jaded oxen that were very far gone—during
the drive forward two completely exhausted oxen had to be turned loose
and a make-shift arranged by lightening one cart and driving it with a
single span of oxen.
[Illustration: THE NECK AT “GERMAN BRIDGE”: ENGAGEMENT 30TH MAY, 1916.]
[Sidenote:“GERMAN BRIDGE”]
Meantime the enemy had been shelling the column ahead with one of their
4·1 naval guns, in position on the railway. When I approached the column,
they were halted in extended formation in the bush. Before reaching them
I had to cross an extensive open sandflat where the carts raised a cloud
of dust, and this caught the enemy’s eye, for suddenly their gun—which
had ceased firing for a space—boomed forth, and their shells, one by one,
whizzed wickedly in close proximity. Some fifteen to twenty shells were
sent at us before we had crossed that open space, but none found the
mark, though three of them landed, straight in the centre of the trek,
uncomfortably close in front. When we got through, it amused us to think
that those innocent old carts had drawn the enemy’s fire—perhaps we were
mistaken for artillery, or the dust-cloud of moving troops. On joining
the battalion there was general rejoicing at the sight of rations, and
something to eat was issued forthwith. About sunset the column drew off
to the right, and camped near the river. To-day, instead of heading
south as usual, we have followed the river-course almost due east, and
have approached close to the railway and the South Pare Mountains. The
advance troops of our column are to-day in touch with the enemy. We have
been placed with the reserve force and remain in readiness close behind.
The enemy’s position is at the entrance of the narrow neck formed by the
meeting of the Pangani River and the hills at the south end of the Pare
Mountains. Through this narrow fairway goes the Usambara Railway on its
route to Tanga.
Next day, 30th May, the troops in front, under General Sheppard, attacked
the enemy positions across the neck, and fighting continued throughout
the day; the 2nd Rhodesians bearing the brunt of the battle. Close on
darkness the enemy force retired, and escaped overnight. Casualties were
fairly severe on both sides, for the fighting was stubborn, and the enemy
stuck gamely to their positions. While our column was thus attacking, the
eastern column—on the railway—had, some distance back, gone over the Pare
Mountains and closed in on Buiko from the eastern side of the range,
thus threatening to surround the enemy, in the neck, if they should
determine to hold on there.
Meantime, everyone in reserve, though keenly disappointed not to be
called into the fight, made the most of a halt that was needed by all,
while starving oxen and mules were fully watered, and turned loose
to graze on the scant grass and low woody shrubs which grew on the
ill-nourished sandy surface in the somewhat open bush.
No fires were permissible, since smoke might give our position away, and
draw artillery fire or a night attack; and accordingly our grub consisted
of “straight” bully and biscuit, and water, a fare we were very familiar
with now.
In the small hours of the following morning we loaded up the wagons and
pack-mules, and moved out again. But we did not go any considerable
distance before halt was called on the battle-ground of yesterday. The
battalion to which I belonged was then ordered ahead, but the transport
remained behind, and I with it, much to my disgust—we were very keen in
those days, and no one liked to miss the smallest chance of a fight.
While in camp I looked over the enemy’s positions of yesterday. The
entrenchments were all newly dug, and a splendid bridge was half
constructed over the Pangani River. Apparently this was to have become
a very strong position had time been allowed for its completion, and
here we realised the wisdom of our forced marching. General Smuts in
pressing on is giving the enemy little time to rest, and prepare for our
on-coming. We have marched 145 miles, from Mbuyuni to Buiko, in the past
thirteen days, and, since leaving Kahe, have had to break trail through
uninhabited country, most of it standing thorn-bush forest. And, so that
one may realise the extreme length of our day, I have been particular
in recording the hours at which we started out on those treks. It will
be seen that sometimes we trekked all night, sometimes we started at
midnight, but most often it was a case of getting up at 2 a.m. or 3 a.m.,
or 4 a.m. in the cold, chill night, and away soon after.
[Sidenote: DELAYED AT BUIKO]
However, our arrival at Buiko next day marked a pause in operations, for
we were destined to remain in that locality for the next eight days,
while the German railway was being repaired to this point, and our
insufficient supplies were augmented.
The enemy had passed on through Buiko in their flight, and it was
unoccupied by either them or civilian inhabitants. It was a small station
composed of a few stone-built houses with cactus-fenced compounds, but
with an extensive railway siding, and siding sheds. After resting here
four days, the battalion crossed the Pangani River, opposite Buiko, by
pontoon bridge, and were then employed in cutting a road, through dense
bush, back north to the almost completed “German Bridge” at the entrance
to “the neck.”
Where the open valley grass—which stretched north and south, following
the river’s course—joined with the rugged edge of the bush, we had
pitched camp, and it was here that, short of rations, a comrade and I
ventured to hunt for meat for the pot.
It was about 4.30 on the second morning in camp. I turned over
luxuriously in my blankets, and lay on my back blinking hazily at the
overhead stars. It was within that dreamless hour before rising time,
when the many disturbances of night on war service had passed away, and
given place to peaceful rest and deep, delicious comfort and content.
Half consciously I saw that dawn was breaking, and was aware that
overnight I had promised to go on a surreptitious game hunt at daylight.
What a fool’s promise I thought that now! and I nestled snugly into the
blankets for just “five minutes more.”
“Buck! Come on!”
Rudely I was startled to active wakefulness, as the words of Lieutenant
Gilham broke into my slumbers in a low voice.
“Right!” I called back as I sat upright. It was full daylight. Gilham
was pulling his boots on in his lair under a bush a few yards away. We
grinned at each other and dressed rapidly, silently; we knew the value of
stealth.
[Sidenote: RATIONS VERY LOW]
Rations were low. Flour, and half a pound of bully beef, had been
yesterday’s issue, and Gilham, a veteran from South Africa, had come to
me with the scheme to clear into the bush at daylight on the morrow. It
was against orders to shoot, and perhaps against orders to leave the
camp, but, being old hunters, and hungry, the old instinct got the better
of discipline, and we had agreed to “chance it” in the morning.
All ready! Gilham lit a cigarette—that was in the days when we still had
a few—lifted a service rifle, and started off, with a nod to me to come
on. Signing to my black boy, Hamisi, I followed out, between the line
of sleeping trek-tired soldiers, who lay along the west front of our
perimeter. Immediately we were in the dense thorn-bush and wending our
way laboriously, carefully, westward through the cruel-fanged jungle of
countless cactus needles and grasping hook-thorns. It was the familiar
type of African bush—dry, waterless, gravel and sand surface, grown with
low wide-branching thorn-trees at fairly open intervals, filled in with
a dense undergrowth of smaller shrubs, sisal, cactus, and grasses, until
only narrow sand washes, or game paths, remain open, for short intervals,
here and there. Through this one wends his way, zigzagging, dodging,
stooping, and always on the look-out to move along the line of least
resistance.
It is rough going, as rough as one will meet with in many travels. If one
who has not experienced it can think of a hard mountain climb, or of a
long march at the end of twenty miles, or of stiff canoe-going up-river,
one may realise something of the stress of endurance. For the rest—the
scratching, patience-trying obstacles—if you would picture the worst of
them—the thorn-tree Mgoonga—imagine half a dozen groups of Stewart tackle
clutching along your arm or leg or helmet, while another lot threatens
to tear your shirt back to rags. When you are hooked, you cannot free
yourself by forcing forward; you must draw gingerly back, and extricate
each barb with commendable patience; be impatient, and you will instantly
be hooked up worse than ever. I will carry memories of Mgoonga as long as
I live. But the bush is not all dense, and this morning, after an hour’s
travelling, we found more open spaces, along which one could sometimes
look to right or left or in front, for fifty yards or so. We were then
well out from camp, and, with a cross wind from the south aiding us, we
judged we could safely fire our rifles without fear of sound of report
reaching back to head-quarters.
[Sidenote: HUNTING FOR FOOD]
In whispers we agreed “all clear,” and the locks of our rifles clicked,
as cartridges were slipped into place, ready for action, while the boy
dropped fifty yards behind, as we moved ahead in Indian file, silently,
alertly, Gilham leading. We were hungry, and we meant to have meat!
We had not gone more than half a mile, when suddenly a single buck jumped
from behind a bush, close in, and showed for an instant, in full view,
as it bounded behind the cover of the jungle. One breathless instant,
and it was gone, untouched. There had been no time to shoot, though we
had seen enough to name it a Lesser Koodoo doe, a delicate, graceful
thing, near to the size of a red deer, with prominent widespread ears.
Eagerly we had realised the valued prize; keenly we realised it had
vanished—alarmed, and impossible to follow. In undertone I “swore,” and
Gilham muttered “bad luck,” each in mind appraising the venison’s goodly
proportions, and hungry friends waiting rations in camp. Regrets were
vain. More keen than ever, we moved on again, the actual sight of game
whetting our appetite for a kill. But no! the Fates were unkind. At the
end of two miles of careful stalking we halted, and had not fired a shot.
Spoor in plenty had been encountered, principally the sharp-pointed
sand-print of Mpala hoofs or the untidy scraping and burrowing of a
family of wart hog. Many were fresh tracks, and promised the momentary
appearance of game, but the shadow of the bush held motionless and
lifeless, blank cover from which the treasures we sought had travelled
at first suspicion of danger’s footfall. Twice we had flashed large
flocks of guinea-fowl, magnificent birds and king of spoil for shot-gun
in Africa; but, armed with rifles only, we were this day in mind to
be impatient with the flutter and disturbance of their cackling, and
heavy-winged rise from cover, when we rudely chanced in upon their
morning breakfasting. And so, as duty demanded our presence in camp at 9
a.m., we were halted at the turning-point—empty-handed and disconsolate.
Gilham wasn’t saying much. He never did when hunting, but one might
judge he was mourning his luck, as none too gently he rolled an uncouth
cigarette out of notepaper and rough-cut Boer tobacco. While he smoked,
we decided to circle up-wind, southward to begin with, and then, when
clear of our outbound line, to strike for camp over fresh ground.
[Sidenote: GERENUK ANTELOPE KILLED]
We were soon off again. The sun was now up and beginning to make itself
felt in the bush. In an hour it would be stifling hot in those enclosed
surroundings. We had not gone far—a half-mile or so—and we were crossing
some open bush—abreast in open order—when a low whistle from Gilham,
on my right, warned me to halt my cautious walk abruptly. He was not
in view, but I caught the movement of his rifle rising, and almost
instantly the report followed. Fifty yards ahead a buck jumped from
behind a bush and stood face on, startled; fearful astonishment and
bewilderment apparently making it unable to run for its life. Hurriedly,
too hurriedly! I fired—and missed to the left, and off went our quarry
bounding through the bush, we following at a run, not certain the
animal was unscathed, and hoping it might be wounded. But the buck had
vanished, and no sight of blood rewarded an inspection of his tracks. We
had missed. Fools we felt, and deserved our self-condemnation—too keen!
over-anxious! the certain temperament to make even the old hand miss “a
sure thing.”
The buck had attracted my notice. During our fourteen months of
patrolling the German-East-British-East frontier I had not seen its kind
before. It was a buck like an Mpala antelope, but it stood slightly
taller, and was of extremely delicate build, while the neck was
noticeably very long and very slender; the horns curved back, as with the
buck Mpala, but were more closely set together than with that species.
Gilham named it a Gerenuk antelope.
Again we moved on, and by and by drew near to the distance from camp
where we dare not fire. Suddenly a shot rang out, again from Gilham, on
my right. I could neither see him nor his object as the bush was dense,
and I paused anxiously. A moment, and a cheery shout rang out—“All right,
come on!” and I hurried over to find my partner proudly surveying a
prostrate Gerenuk doe, for, strangely enough, it was again this novel
species which Gilham had spotted and dropped with a bullet high in the
shoulder. It was a beautiful beast, though a doe, killed by fate of the
pot-hunter’s need, slender and delightfully delicate of build, with
a coat of close, short, glossy hair, dark chocolate brown, above the
central sides, where a distinctive horizontal line clearly separated
the darker upper parts from those a shade or two lighter below. Many
were our ejaculations of joy over our prize! Here was meat at last!—and
venison!—fit reward for our strenuous stalk. Proudly now we would steal
in upon our camp comrades and revel in a goodly feed all round. For one
day at least bully beef would not plague our palate.
Without loss of time we cut the meat up, loaded the black boy, and,
carrying the remainder ourselves, we set off for camp, deciding we were
now too close in to shoot further.
Nearing camp, half an hour later, we put up at intervals, singly, numbers
of dainty dodging Dik Dik, the smallest African antelope, which lairs and
jumps off like a British hare, and which in size it barely exceeds. These
little animals are usually sought with shot-guns, and give very tricky
shooting. They are a much-prized table delicacy.
Our entrance to camp was a masterpiece of secret movement, and
bush-cutting parade found us on duty outwardly severe but inwardly
rejoicing over our morning’s outing. And so had we a glimpse of sport in
this famous big-game land while we passed on trek, keen on the trail of
even bigger game.
On 9th June, the entire column—which had crossed the river from Buiko
and had assembled at our bush camp on the previous day—again marched out
on trek, and continued down the Pangani. In the late afternoon, the
advanced troops at the head of the column engaged rear-guards of the
enemy, and heavy fighting for a time ensued before the native village of
Mkalamo. Our position then was about opposite Wilhelmstal and Mombo, two
of the principal stations of the Usambara Railway.
[Sidenote: ENEMY LEAVING USAMBARA RAILWAY]
On entering Mkalamo, next day, it was found to be a village composed of
a few wrecked trading stores—burnt down by the enemy—and a large number
of grass-built native Shambas. Here an important light trolley-line, from
Mombo, crossed the Pangani and passed through the village, and on into
the bush where it continues a course to Handeni, which is a town, some
thirty miles farther south, on the broad trade road from the mouth of the
Pangani into the interior. The fighting took place last evening a short
distance north of the village, and the rear-guard action of the enemy
was, apparently, solely to hold us off until darkness, for it is reported
now that over 2,000 enemy were here yesterday, and that they evacuated
the village and neighbourhood overnight. Rumours are persistent that the
remainder of the Usambara line down to Tanga is almost completely clear
of German forces, and that all enemy are now making for the Central
Railway. The length of railway line from Mombo out to Tanga on the
east coast is about seventy-five miles. It should greatly assist the
forwarding of supplies if the port of Tanga and this section of railway
fell into our hands; if it is not already seriously destroyed.
But it soon became evident that General Smuts intended to continue the
pursuit south, toward the Central Railway, without waiting for the
complete clearing of the remainder of the line.
We remained two days at Mkalamo, holding on while operations on the
railway in this neighbourhood progressed. On 12th June we marched some
six miles forward to the angle of the Pangani River where it changes
direction and flows east to the sea, and there we again halted for a
couple of days. Rations have been short for the past two weeks, and
transport difficulties are evidently increasing behind. Moreover, most
of the bridges on the railway from Moschi have been destroyed, or partly
destroyed, by the enemy, so that there is delay in making use of any
railway line, until hasty repairs are completed.
Regarding food we are limited at present to flour, and bully beef, and
tea, and sugar, no bacon, no jam, no biscuit—and bare flour, without
bacon fat or lard to cook it with, is almost a “straw” ration, for
flour and water dropped into a dry canteen lid doesn’t make anything
digestible or palatable. But if one is hungry it is eaten, and really the
men were wonderfully patient over their “dough-nuts,” and such scanty
grub, even though they grew lean—for you know the popular old song
beginning: “What’s the use of worrying?” which is the never-dying axiom
of our ever plucky soldiers. Being much in need of meat now, I went out
hunting in the afternoon of both days, but without success. Many tracks
of rhinoceros were crossed in this neighbourhood, but small game is
apparently very scarce. Some day, in hunting in proximity to the enemy, I
expect the game will be Germans instead of buck, but it’s worth that risk
of adventure, and if Germans are about in the bush, it’s as well to know
it.
[Sidenote: WE BRANCH OFF FROM PANGANI RIVER]
_15th June._—Réveillé at 4 a.m., and soon after the column marched out.
This morning we bid good-bye to the Pangani River, after having followed
its course for 135 miles, and headed south in the direction of the
far-off Central Railway, and Morogoro—to reach which a great area of
wilderness bush would have to be penetrated. Marched to-day over unmade
dust-deep tracks, and camped in the bush at night after advancing some
sixteen miles. Rations dwindling; flour, tea, and sugar only issued
to-day.
The following day we continued onward, and, after completing some twelve
miles, camped at 8 p.m., at Gitu, north-west of the considerable station
of Handeni, on to which the eastern column was advancing. Rations to-day,
½ lb. bully beef, coffee, and biscuits.
Next day the column continued onward into the south, and during the day
emerged from wilderness bush into a country of plentiful small-croft
cultivation—the first country of this kind that we have encountered
since leaving Moschi. Native huts and mealie patches were on all sides
amongst the bush, which is now fairly open and of fertile growth.
Toward noon we crossed the broad, well-made caravan road which comes from
the coast station of Pangani, and runs far west into the interior. Soon
after crossing this road we climbed into low hill country, and camped
at Ssangeni, a native village west of Handeni—some houses of which were
now visible, about eight miles distant, at the foot of an isolated,
prominent, cone-shaped kopje. To-day’s meagre rations, sugar (no tea), 1
lb. meat, and biscuits.
_Sunday, 18th June._—Lay all day in position occupied last night.
South African troops went out from the column in the early morning
under operation orders. Recent information as to the enemy’s strength
estimates that the force opposed to us, in the Handeni neighbourhood,
is twelve companies of infantry, two 4·1 naval guns, and fourteen maxim
machine-guns.
[Sidenote: HANDENI NEIGHBOURHOOD]
_19th June._—In camp. To-day the news reached us that Handeni had been
occupied by General Sheppard’s column, and also that the South Africans
operating from our column had engaged the enemy near here yesterday,
and inflicted some casualties, but the enemy would not long stand their
ground, and fought their familiar bush-covering retreating fight. To-day,
from the native habitations, some food was collected by our hungry
troops. My orderly obtained some welcome delicacies in the following
strange manner: he bartered an old shirt for two chickens, an under-vest
for seven eggs, and an old football sweater for six vegetable-marrows.
Money held little inducement to the natives here; they were in great need
of clothing, and it was apparel they sought. They say that sugar and
clothes are finished in the German camps.
[Illustration: GERMAN PAPER RUPEE.]
Crude, locally minted brass coins and printed paper one-rupee notes were
plentiful among the natives, here and elsewhere. Those they have received
from the Germans since war began in payment for food collected, by native
consent or by force. If the war failed for the German this very doubtful
currency would be unredeemable and valueless, and so the ignorant natives
were warned that it was poor, if not totally false, this wealth which
they held.
On the 20th and 21st of June we remained at Ssangeni. In the evening
of the 20th advanced South African troops engaged the enemy ahead, and
heavy conflict ensued, and lasted some two or three hours. Later, one of
the returned wounded reported that the South African casualties were 15
killed and 75 wounded, and that the enemy had had some 200 casualties,
but none of this information was authentic, though it was sufficient to
show that a sharp encounter had taken place.
Next day, the 22nd of June, the column accomplished a long march forward,
trekking on from 9 a.m. until 8 p.m., with but one hour halt, and camped,
at the end of the day, at the native village of Kangata some twenty-five
miles ahead of our last camp. It was a long, hot, trying day, and
particularly wearisome when sheer exhaustion laid hold of the heavily
burdened soldiers toward the evening of the day. On the march, the column
passed through Ssonjo about noon, having travelled easterly across
country on a native bush-path until the Handeni-Ssonjo road had been
intersected. Our course thenceforth had been due south. The retreating
enemy, falling back from Handeni, held up our advance by occasional sharp
short-lived rear-guard actions—bursts of firing on the advance guard—and
the country, which was bush-grown on either side of the narrow native
road, was well suited to their hide, and strike, and run away manœuvres.
A number of oxen and horses were left dead on the roadside to-day. No
“feed” ration is available for issue to transport animals at present, and
this unfortunate state of affairs is telling heavily on the live-stock.
Our own rations have been somewhat better during the last three days.
[Sidenote: WE MARCH ON LUKIGURA RIVER]
On the 23rd of June rations of meat and flour were cooked before the
column marched at 4 a.m. We were in for a long trek, and were told to
expect a fight at the end of it. Our objective was the bridge-head, and
the hills commanding it, where the bush-road crossed the Lukigura River,
and where the enemy had dug in. The eastern column was, in conjunction,
to advance down the narrow native road, which runs through the bush from
Handeni to Makindu at the northern end of the populated Nguru Mountains,
while we were to circle away wide to the west and attack at the heart
of the hill position. All night we trekked, excepting for one halt at
midnight. It was slow, monotonous work for this column, which must have
stretched to a sinuous length of miles; for it was necessary, on account
of the density of bush and jungle growth, to feel the way along in
single file, on a narrow native bush-path over which a native guide was
leading us to our goal. Moving, then halting till the kink in the line
straightened out, then on again, so dragged the night hours wearily on;
and progress was made, though we travelled as sheep in a strange defile,
led we knew not where. After midnight bitter cold set in and chilled our
scanty shirt-clad bodies, and when dawn broke the red-hot sun was for
once welcomed in Africa, as it warmed us to life again. But still, when
the day dawned, the trekking column held onwards, and all through the
day we marched, until 4.30 p.m.—and then to battle. I have never seen
men more utterly tired and woebegone than our men at the time of their
approach on Lukigura River. They had been marching twenty-four and a half
hours, kit-laden and without substantial food; and yet, when they went
into battle all fatigue was forgotten, or they were careless of further
physical trial; and they fought like madmen—and as heroes.
It was for us a short, hot engagement, and the height and the village of
Kwa-Direma were stormed at the point of the bayonet, and in our hands ere
the fall of dusk. It transpired that the enemy had confined all their
attention to the bush-road from Handeni, down which the eastern column
was advancing, and they were taken completely by surprise when our attack
pounced on them from the west, and inflicted complete defeat and heavy
loss. Meantime the eastern column attacked below, on the road in the
bush, east of Kwa-Direma, and carried the bridge-head over the Lukigura
River, inflicting further punishment on the beaten enemy.
During the early part of the night our new positions on the hill-crest
were shelled by the enemy’s naval guns. A few casualties resulted, but
most of the shells were high and went over the hill to burst in the
vacant bush below.
[Sidenote: AN AFTER-BATTLE PAUSE]
The next few days were spent in camp at Kwa-Direma. Here I made some
sketches of the position and neighbourhood for G.H.Q., and spent some
time in the bush, much of which was breast-high in tangled undergrowth
and rank grass, but which nevertheless showed traces of where the enemy
had scattered and hidden at the time of our attack.
Here, one morning, my porters captured a small antelope—Harvey’s Duiker,
♀—even at the door of my native-erected grass hut, where it had rushed in
fear and bewilderment on being disturbed near by.
Here, also, I had some practice with a 1-in. Krupp gun which we had
captured in the late engagement. Though completely out of date, it
was a vicious and accurate little piece, and, as long as the captured
ammunition lasts, it has been decided to have it added for service to the
Machine-gun Section of which I am in charge. A day later, too, I took
part in some tests of armoured-car armour plate, at the request of Major
Sir John Willoughby. The armour plate withstood the blow of the Krupp
gun shell at 100 yards range, and was merely dented. We then tested the
German made-up iron-plate shield on the Krupp gun. Our service rifle
failed to penetrate the plate, but a ·245 high-velocity sporting rifle of
Sir John Willoughby’s put a neat hole clean through it.
_Sunday, 2nd July._—And for once, as it rarely is on service, it has been
a quiet day, and like a Christian “day of rest.” And being a Sunday it
recalls our homes, from which we are longing very much for news. Mails
reach us at very long intervals of a month or more, and for weeks we have
been hoping for home news. The column has lain a week at Kwa-Direma,
and we are said to be waiting here until supplies come up in quantity.
We have had no full ration since getting here, and we are all feeling
the effect of the shortage. From two natives, whom I persuaded two days
ago to go to their home in the hills to forage for food for me, I have
to-day purchased, in exchange for old clothing, some mealie-meal flour
and thirteen fowls. Great the rejoicing, for this is, in these bad days,
a windfall for myself and some of the men. One hen, a white-plumaged one,
I kept a few days, and by then it had proved so friendly and tame that I
decided to spare its life and keep it as a pet. Thereafter, here and on
trek, it caused much amusement and comment. It lived with me a few months
before it was stolen by someone whose hunger overcame his scruples, and
each day, whether on trek or in camp, it laid me an egg. Very peculiarly
this hen learned to come to roost wherever I lay, and, more curious
still, it was never at a loss as to my whereabouts when released among
the feet of hurrying soldiers in strange surroundings at the end of a
trek. On trek she was generally tied down in a horse-bucket, and carried
by my native servant.
The next few days passed uneventfully, except that much time was given
over, on my part, to increasing the proficiency of the machine-gunners
and to the training of mules, both old and new, to complete familiarity
with their saddles and loads. Once during those days the camp was sniped
at night, but in the darkness no damage was done.
On 7th July we loaded up and marched out south-west, on the bush-road
over the Lukigura River. In the afternoon Makindu, which had already been
occupied by General Sheppard’s column, was reached, and there we camped.
Immediately on camping we were shelled by the enemy for about an hour,
but little damage was done.
[Sidenote: 260 MILES FROM THE FRONTIER]
Makindu, this village on the Msiha River, which we had reached and where
we were destined to stay for a time, is still some seventy-five miles
north of our objective—Morogoro, and the Central Railway. But a great
trek has been accomplished, for we are now 260 miles from Mbuyuni, our
starting-point on the frontier. Needless to say this exceedingly long
line of communication has made the transport of supplies a tremendous
undertaking, therefore it was not unreasonable that, for the next month,
we lay at Makindu while transport difficulties were mastered and clearly
organised, and the shorter line, in from Tanga by rail, was opened and
brought to our assistance.
This long pause, too, was beneficial to the overstrained troops. Speaking
of our own battalion, they were very far through in physique at the time
we reached Makindu, and in numerical strength they were, all told, under
200 strong. True, they were “the flower of the flock” in endurance,
this remnant of the 1,200 which sailed from England, but even they were
withered, and withering, with long fight, on short commons, against
unhealthy soul-exhausting climate. Nine officers remain who have gone
through all since the beginning, including the doctor, the O.C., and the
second-in-command.
[Sidenote: UNDER PROLONGED SHELL-FIRE]
At Makindu we had our first prolonged experience of shell-fire, for
throughout our occupation of this place we were continually shelled by
the enemy’s naval guns, and sometimes suffered considerable loss. The
enemy’s fire was throughout particularly accurate, as if the camp were
directly under observation from some undetected look-out in the high
ranges of the Nguru Mountains, on our south-west—which, at some points,
had an extreme elevation of some 6,100 feet. It was here seen that the
native Africans were very nervous and fearful of shell-fire, and their
raw instincts with difficulty stood the strain. It is a trying thing
for anyone to wait idly inactive for a shell’s vicious death-dealing
on-coming, but it is much more trying to the half-wild senses of a black
man than to a white man. We had no artillery with a range sufficient to
reach the enemy’s naval guns, so that the only retaliation on our part
was accomplished by dropping bombs from our aeroplanes. As soon as the
enemy ceased firing, invariably our ’planes went up, and, when over the
German positions—cunningly though they were concealed in the bush—bombs
were dropped on every likely target. It became amusing when the intention
of the opposite foe became clear, this persistent blow for blow “strafe”
between the enemy guns and our aircraft.
At Makindu two delayed mails were received, and great was the rejoicing;
even though some of the letters were six months old.
It was at Makindu, too, that, one evening, my pet white hen, which had
been with me since the fight at Lukigura River, killed a small snake 15
inches long. This I had never seen done before by domestic fowl. She
was very timid and wary in pecking at the snake until very sure she had
stricken it to death, whereafter, with much exertion, she swallowed it
whole as if it were a worm. She is indeed a funny old hen. Still she
never gets lost amongst all the confusion of camp life, and each night
she comes home, often after roaming far, to roost within a yard or two of
me.
[Sidenote: RECONNAISSANCE ON ENEMY’S FLANK]
While at Makindu I did some reconnaissance and sketching for G.H.Q., and
saw much of the bush country beyond the camp. The following notes of one
such reconnaissance will serve to give an idea of its nature and the type
of country.
RECONNAISSANCE PATROL
WITH VIEW TO FLANKING ENEMY’S POSITION
IN RUHUNGU HILLS
Patrol undertaken to investigate country on east flank out to
the track crossing from Massimbani to Legero, which is well
behind the German position. Patrol left Makindu at 4 a.m. on
the 1st of August, 1916, and returned to Makindu 3 p.m. on the
3rd of August, 1916. Our southerly direction, from point of
setting out, was held on a bearing of 160 degrees throughout
the advance to Massimbani track. The distance, reckoned by
time, from starting-point to Massimbani track is about twelve
miles. The distance to intermediate grass track crossing from
Mssente to Ruhungu is about 4¼ miles. The first seven miles is
good and fast-going for vehicle road through open forest—little
forest cutting should be necessary, and no grading. The last
five miles of the total distance passes through some parts of
less open forest, and some timber felling will be necessary
in places. In this locality a few narrow “islands” of dense
bush—lying east and west—will be encountered, but these may
always be evaded by keeping round their western extremities.
No rivers, or soft river-beds were encountered; throughout
the surface soil is dry and hard. Where the Mssente track
was crossed, the bearing on to the Ruhungu position was 260
degrees. Said bearing follows down an open grass valley which
is unobstructed by forest and in full view of Ruhungu hills.
The mountain range appeared close at the Mssente track, at
most some two to four miles distant, but the range viewed from
the Massimbani track appeared far off, and as if viewed from a
lower level. By eye I judged the distance here to be eight to
ten miles, and later, sketching out the course of the patrol,
I find it to be 8½ miles. The impression given me, and this is
borne out, was that in avoiding Massimbani village we were very
wide of the hills and the enemy’s line of communication to his
positions in front. In regard to this I might state that, after
crossing over the Mssente track about a mile, a bearing of 5
degrees to 7 degrees would draw in more closely to the mountain
foothills, and might have better results. From the Massimbani
track a long, fairly low range of hills was apparent in the
distance, tailing off south beyond the prominent peak of Kanga
(elevation 3,280 ft.). The Mssente track was a mere path in the
grass and had no appearance of being much in use. The broad
Massimbani track is apparently one of long standing, and had
appearance of being much used by the enemy, though no movement
was observed while for some hours we lay hidden on watch. There
was no telephone line on the Massimbani track.
On the return journey the patrol held slightly easterly until,
after going three miles, the Lukigura River was struck. The
course of the river was then followed for about 2½ miles.
Kwa-Beku, where shown on field map, was not observed. Kraals
were seen on the opposite side of a lagoon on the river, after
we had followed its course for about a mile, and signs of
grazing cattle were noticed near here, but the huts across the
river appeared uninhabited. The route by the course of the
Lukigura River is obstructed by dense patches of jungle, and
the going is bad. If it were necessary to approach the river
for purpose of securing water for animals and troops, I would
state that a short distance north of the Massimbani track,
say two miles, the open forest runs out to the river-bank and
access to water could here be easily accomplished.
Such was a manner of unravelling the mystery of the important and unknown
details of the map in this ever new and strange country.
_5th August, 1916_.—At 3.30 a.m. the camp was astir—to-day we were to
march, to-day we were again to begin active operations. After great
overnight operations, this morning we trekked out from Makindu on the
road back to Kwa-Direma, for it transpired that we were, as Divisional
Reserve, to take part in an encircling right flank movement through the
Nguru Mountains between the main block of hills and the Kanga-Kilindi
range, on the eastern side of which the enemy stronghold sheltered.
Arriving at Kwa-Direma about midday, we found a large concentration of
forces there composing General Hannyngton’s Brigade and part of the
Divisional Reserve. Previous to our arrival mounted South African troops
under General Brits had already left to commence the advance through the
hills.
The following two days I have no wish to recall, but that they are
necessary to this narrative. We began, and laboured incessantly to
advance our column of troops and transport into hill country that proved
to be quite impassable, for any but unburdened man or beast, owing to
its succession of deep valley bottoms and steep untracked hills. But
nevertheless we laboured on for two days, on such strenuous work as
cutting roads through forest, laying corduroy logging over swamp marsh,
and, at the hills, inspanning two to three complete teams of mules or
oxen to drag each wagon with excessive effort up the stupendous grades.
At the end of the second day, after we had in all covered some eight to
ten miles, the project was abandoned, and we received orders to return
the way we had come.
[Sidenote: OPERATIONS AGAINST RUHUNGU FAIL]
Next day we again reached Kwa-Direma, and none were sorry to be out of
those hills. Meantime the operations that had been going on, on both
flanks, with a view to attacking or surrounding the Ruhungu positions
unaccountably failed to get to grips with the enemy, who, probably in
fear of a rear attack, succeeded in secretly evacuating their stronghold
while the mounted troops were working their way through the hills. This
was to all a big disappointment, but the extremely awkward nature of
the country proved again the enemy’s disconcerting ally and for him his
saving. This operation was, perhaps, meant to be our greatest effort to
force a decision—at least so did we, at the time, regard it.
On the 9th of August we were back in Makindu, and on the 10th we
proceeded along the road toward the Ruhungu position. Soon we found
the road completely blocked by great trees that had been felled across
it by the enemy, and in some places the road was also mined. Slowly we
went forward throughout the day, investigating the level bush and the
hill-sides as we went. Once about fifty enemy were sighted, and lost
again in the bush. Once a mounted patrol of Sepoys fell in with the
enemy, who surprised them when dismounted, and they lost their horses,
and then their heads, while an advancing line of our men raked the bush
with rifle-fire beyond them. Next day those horses, six of them, were
found running free in the bush, and were caught and returned to their
owners, one or two of them suffering from bullet wounds.
In the late afternoon we built a boma (bush fence) protection and camped
for the night on the road; and again moved forward in the morning into
the Ruhungu position. Progress was slow while the position, which
was a very strong one in its systematic completeness, was carefully
investigated, covered by machine-guns trained on the hill-slopes ahead.
The position was completely occupied at 11 a.m. and all reported clear.
[Sidenote: RUHUNGU STRONGHOLD]
Going over the position I was astonished at the work that had been spent
on it. For instance, on the low ground at the position defending the
road, a wide carpet of sharply pointed, dangerous-looking, hand-cut
pegs had been staked out in front of the whole trench line to protect
it, apparently, from cavalry charge. This original and ingenious
“entanglement” could not have been constructed without many, many days of
labour by many men. Then, too, in the hills above, regular subterranean
caves, and pits, had been excavated everywhere for protection from the
attacks of our aeroplanes, some of them even hewn out of the solid rock
by the industry of many hands.
In the afternoon we passed beyond Ruhungu, and in the evening camped by
a small rivulet in low country east of the high Kanga mountain-top. Many
small bush-log culverts on the road have here been destroyed by the enemy
as they retired, and this has left the road impassable for transport
until repairs are made.
The following day we advanced until the Russongo River was reached, and
then camped, while working parties busily constructed a new bridge over
the river.
At early dawn of the next day, which was Sunday the 13th of August,
we trekked again onward through tree-covered hill country, and made a
long march in a south-westerly direction, camping in the afternoon at
Kinjumbi on the Luăle Liwăle River. The timber bridges destroyed, over
streamlets and rivers, coursing numerously from the mountain watersheds,
are now everywhere being roughly and speedily repaired, and the forces
are hurrying forward in the wake of the escaping enemy. General Smuts is
himself here to-day and hustling things forward.
Worked all through the night repairing the bridge over the deep-banked
Luăle Liwăle River; then off over the river in the morning and onward,
until again held up at Turiani, before which flows the large River Mwúhe,
where two bridges had been blown up to block our passage. We have now
descended into low, unhealthy marsh country, where the atmosphere is
close and damp, and fly-ridden. For the remainder of the day and the
next two days, swarms of us, like busy ants, laboured to and fro on the
construction of the large timber-buttressed bridge being thrown across
the high-banked river. At the end of the latter day fever laid hold of
me, and left me with just enough energy doggedly to carry on. Toward
evening, too, of the latter day the work drew to a close, and we marched
out forthwith, at 7 p.m., to camp about midnight at Kwe d’Hombo.
Meantime the forces ahead had pushed on south to reach, on the 17th of
August, the Wami River, there, at the bridge-head at the village of
Dakawa, to enter into an all-day battle with the strongly entrenched
enemy. The struggle was a fierce one, and again the enemy suffered severe
punishment, but, nevertheless, they stubbornly defended their positions,
on the opposite banks of the river, until night-fall, then to escape
under cover of the screening darkness.
[Sidenote: MOROGORO OCCUPIED]
On the 19th, 20th, and 21st of August, I was employed going over and
making plans of the Dakawa position, though still continuing a victim of
vile malaria. This, however, was the last work I did for seven days, for
I went hopelessly down with fever next day, and went into field hospital,
while the force continued on, and on 26th August occupied Morogoro, and
cut the Central Railway without meeting further enemy resistance.
I left ambulance quarters, and Dakawa, on the 28th of August, and reached
Morogoro in the forenoon two days later, there to find that the battalion
was still fifteen miles ahead. So, not to be done, I borrowed a mule and
a broken-down German saddle, and caught up the column before night-fall,
at Killundi, east of Morogoro on the low road south of the Central
Railway. Over the country I had passed in coming from Dakawa great
stretches of the bush grass had been burnt down by the enemy in their
retirement, presumably so that there would not be even dry poor grazing
for our already lean-flanked horses and cattle.
So we had reached Morogoro—which was a large, picturesque town below the
northern foothills of the Ulugúru Mountains, with colonial well-built
houses and bungalows, and palm-shaded, sand-carpeted streets, wherein
moved native pedestrians in bright-coloured cotton garments swathed
loosely over their shoulders and bodies. And here I must halt; though
the columns halted not, and relentlessly continued their pursuit of the
fleeing enemy. To reach Morogoro we had trekked some 355 miles, and
in attaining our objective had taken part in the fall of the entire
Central Railway; for in conjunction with our operation, and almost
simultaneously, naval forces captured the port of Bagomayo, near
Dar-es-Salaam; General Van Deventer’s column cut the railway at Kilossa
and Mpapua—over 100 miles west of Morogoro—while the Belgian forces,
from the Congo, threatened and eventually captured Tabora—the interior
terminal of the railway.
A few days later news came through that Dar-es-Salaam, the capital and
chief port of the Protectorate, had surrendered to naval forces on the
4th of September.
After wrecking all the important steel-constructed bridges, and all the
rolling stock on the railway, the enemy had now fled to the south into
the only country that remained free to them—even though it was, beyond
the Ulugúru Mountains, a country of bush and swamp and wilderness to
which they fled, and entailed their final irrevocable departure from the
last of their civilised settlements and trade-centres, and from their
all-important railway.
Indeed, at this stage, it must have been patent to most of them that,
in suffering this disaster, their country was lost; prolong the final
capitulation though they may.
[Illustration: MOROGORO—RUFIJI RIVER]