THE THIRD STAGE
This was to be an advance less in ultimate distance than those previously
undertaken, and accomplished, but proved to be through country much
more attractive, in its early stages, yet, in its latter stages, more
unhealthy and trying than anything we had so far experienced. The
operations began in the very mountainous and beautiful Ulugúru mountains,
south of Morogoro, mountains which were cultivated and habited by large
numbers of natives, and which were rich in crop and pasturage and water,
and truly the first fair country we had seen—if we except the Moschi
area—that was not barren of almost everything but bush and wilderness.
But thereafter, when we cleared those mountains, we bade good-bye to
the last of fair scene and entered, for the remainder of the trek, the
low-lying, unhealthy bush country that stretches like a great unruffled
carpet right away to the banks of the Rufiji River, and beyond.
Our object was, first, to follow the enemy, and, secondly, to clear all
the country north of the Rufiji River of enemy. To reach the Rufiji
River from Morogoro was a trek in all of some 130 miles, the first
fifty-five miles of which was through mountainous country. To clear the
hills our column was to proceed through them on the east of the highest
range; some ten miles east of us the eastern column was to work along
parallel south-going tracks; while a column composed entirely of South
African troops, in co-operation, was to work down the country, west of
the mountains, to close ultimately on the Fort of Kissaki.
Setting out on the 31st of August we trekked to begin with on a good
“made” road, cut through the hills, and free of impossible grades, and
encountered no opposition until we had got beyond Matombo village and
mission station.
Meantime, in continuing without halt to follow the enemy from Morogoro,
we were adding to supply difficulties, and saw little prospect of full
rations in the near future. At Killundi, one day’s march from Morogoro,
no rations reached us, and the battalion in their need had a much-wasted
trek-ox killed, and issued as emergency ration. Otherwise we had to make
shift as best we could, and were hard put to it to assuage our hunger. A
few small things were gathered from the neighbourhood, such as sugar-cane
stalks to chew at, a few pawpaws (Papáyu), and wild tomatoes, a chicken
or two; and one great find, a grey-marked goat from the hills.
[Sidenote: IN THE ULUGÚRU MOUNTAINS]
On the 3rd of September we encamped at Ruwu River, an enemy encampment
far down in a beautiful valley into which we had descended on a zigzag,
well-engineered road cut out of the steep hill-sides in pre-war days
at the expense of gigantic labour. The existence of this road through
the hills was unknown to our command until the enemy retired by it from
Morogoro. Fine tropical trees, on either side of the road, were tall and
dark-foliaged and majestic, and the undergrowth luxuriant and flower-lit,
while through the trees, every now and then, one glimpsed the fair valley
and hills below and beyond. Everyone was filled with admiration for the
beauties of the scenes we encountered on the final day of our march to
Ruwu River. It was indeed very beautiful country!
The wide-spanned bridge over the river had been destroyed, but though
the river was wide at this season it was shallow and not more than
waist-deep, and the troops and the transport laboriously and successfully
forded the firm gravel and sand-bedded stream. The Germans had had
stores at Ruwu River, and here, in their hasty flight—for the enemy
had apparently just abandoned the place—large quantities of shells and
grenades were found dumped in the river-bed.
On the 4th of September, leaving all transport behind, we marched out
at 6.30 a.m., and again trekked through lovely hill country, especially
in the early part of the day, when the road ran along parallel to the
river, we being then on a regular mountain pass cut in the precipitous
hill-sides that fell abruptly to the broad, bank-forested river, flowing
below us on our right. The Pass was a cutting that worked a way round to
open country, penetrating, in its course, the great base of a mountain
spur that abutted on to the very river-bank. In two or three places large
boulders and rocks had been blown out of the upper side of the Pass from
perpendicular rock cliffs, and effectually blocked the way for all but
nimble-footed men and mules. It was, though strange and very beautiful,
a dangerous bit of road, and difficult, and would give our engineers
and pioneers a very considerable task to make it again passable for
transport. However, bad though the road was, the marvel was that the
enemy had not completely blocked the way, for a few sticks of dynamite,
well placed, could so easily have accomplished that purpose. It proved
perhaps again that the enemy was hard pressed and flustered. During the
morning the Pass was negotiated, and we proceeded along a good road.
After the column had passed Matombo village, the battalion received
orders to occupy Magali Ridge—a high, long-backed hill off the road, on
the left flank. This entailed a long five-mile drag up steep hill-sides,
on narrow native footpaths, that were awkwardly rutted and bouldered.
However, by 4 p.m. we had laboured to the crest, and took up position for
the night there.
[Sidenote: WARFARE IN THE HILLS]
Meantime, the Gold Coast Regiment—who had been landed at Dar-es-Salaam
to augment our forces on this trek—engaged the enemy on the right of the
road in open, tree-clear hill country. This engagement, which continued
on through the next two days, was like open guerilla warfare, and
different therefore from all previous encounters which had taken place in
thick bush country. We, from our high position—as all was quiet on this
flank except for one short encounter—watched the fortunes of battle of
our friends across the valley. Artillery was in action on both sides, and
the white puffs of smoke told us plainly where the flying shells burst,
and where the opposing forces were located, and holding on.
Gallantly the Gold Coast blacks, led by British officers, fought
the blacks of the country, and steadily they dislodged them out of
bush-patches, and from behind rocks, to drive them, bit by bit, up the
many hill-slopes toward the Kihunsa ridge; behind which lay the track
to Mgata, and their second road of retreat to the south through Tulo or
Kissaki.
Meantime, on our flank, as I have said, all was quiet except for one
short “dust-up.” This was when, on the evening of the 5th, on a prominent
knoll on the opposite ridge, south of Magali ridge, we discovered and
destroyed, with mountain battery and machine-gun fire, the enemy’s
observation post which had been directing the fire of their naval
guns—long-range guns—which shelled from positions some six miles in
rear, and which our artillery could not attempt to reach, for at best
ours were light pieces which had been got through the part-blocked pass
at Ruwu River. As soon as this vital observation post was wiped out,
the enemy’s guns ceased fire, for there, far forward of the guns, had
hidden the eyes that saw all—eyes that scanned the whole countryside, and
the road, with the intentness of a bird of prey—and there had been the
cunning hand on the wires of the telephone that told off every pulse-beat
of the booming guns.
On the evening of the 6th the troops on the right flank had worked
far out and up to the main ridge crest—some had even gone over it,
in pursuit of fleeing enemy—and, on the approach of dusk, the firing
died down altogether and fighting ceased. Natives whom I questioned,
who live in these hills, and have not deserted their homes in fear of
approaching conflict, state that the force on the right flank is not the
big one, but that the larger force is on the main road between here and
Bukubuku, in which village, where a road joins in from the west, there
is a large camp of enemy. On the last day of the fight the natives, who
are extraordinarily quick in flashing news from hut to hut amongst their
tribes, stated that all the enemy were preparing to leave the hills, and
that they would go toward Kissaki Fort.
The 7th of September was a quiet day, and was spent in camp on the
sun-hot ridge, while we grew impatient at our inactivity. Though all was
quiet on our front, we could hear the battle call of big guns firing to
the east, where the eastern column was “somewhere” in action.
[Sidenote: ENEMY HARD-PRESSED]
_8th September, 1916._—Camp afoot at 4 a.m., and the battalion trekked
at daylight; at that time commencing the descent from Magali ridge to
the road, where we joined in with the column. About 10 a.m. we passed
through Bukubuku, then deserted, but where large, carefully built barrack
hutments extensively lined the road. This place had the aspect of being a
large military centre, probably a training station for natives recruited
from these populated hills. Late in the day, as we advanced steadily,
the road began to wind down out of the hills until, to the south, there
appeared before us a great level stretch of haze-softened bush country,
reaching out as far as eye could follow. From noon onward, to-day, small
but troublesome enemy rear-guards harassed our advance, until finally,
in the evening, we drew in on larger forces and entered into a short
engagement at Mwuha River and village. It promised, at one time, to be
a hot set-to, but mountain-battery guns subjected the village to very
heavy fire, and, when extended infantry proceeded to attack, the village
was entered without noteworthy incident, for the enemy were found to be
again retiring, and, as it was getting dark, we could not follow on their
heels.
During the trek to-day quantities of abandoned stores were passed from
time to time upon the road, principally field-gun ammunition, wagons,
dump-barrows, and pioneering implements. We continue close on the heels
of the enemy, and, fearful of standing up to our superior forces, they
are apparently being hustled uncomfortably to get away each night, and
must now be a much-harassed force.
[Sidenote: ABANDONED BUILDINGS AND STORES]
Early next morning, when we moved out, we had not trekked far before
we came on the enemy’s rear-guard camp of last night, where some fires
were yet kindled and freshly killed meat lay about, quantities having
been but partly used. Shortly after midday, the column marched into
Tulo, which the enemy had hastily cleared from. Here, as at Bukubuku,
were countless grass huts which had been built and used as barracks. The
interiors of all were in disorder—rude furnishings, such as grass-laced
couches and chairs, were upturned everywhere; mealie-meal flour, peas,
beans, and paper lay scattered on the ground, or lay about in half-empty
sacks against the walls, and all gave one the impression of a looted
and abandoned camp, from which the occupants had fled in uncontrolled
haste. An hour or two ago the enemy had been here—now they were fleeing
through the bush and down the road leading south-west in the direction
of Kissaki. Here, as at Ruwu, large quantities of shells and other
ammunition were found dumped in the Mwuha River and abandoned. Besides
the barrack huts already mentioned, there were the many native kraals
of the permanent village of Tulo, and a number of these still contained
their peaceful occupants. The following day, as I had lost a considerable
number of machine-gun carriers, I recruited, for temporary service,
twenty-one sturdy, ragged-garbed, almost naked natives from amongst the
inhabitants of the village. These natives appeared friendly and willing
to serve under us, although we had been but a few hours their masters.
In their own dull way I suppose they reasoned that we were a great and
powerful people, since we were driving their late masters before us.
The next four days we remained in reserve at Tulo, while the column
went ahead to Nkessa’s village, some thirteen miles farther on, on the
Dunthumi River, and entered on an extensive encounter on a wide front.
My diary entries at this time again record great food shortage, and
declare that the men have not enough food to keep together their sorely
tried, used-up systems. And this was really so. Daily the ambulances took
in men we lost on the march from sickness and _exhaustion_.
Being short of food at Tulo, and as the conditions did not improve, on
the third and fourth day I went out to hunt for the pot, and, as we were
now on the border of a large German game reserve, I found game plentiful,
and shot five antelope, three Reedbuck, and two Mpala. Other officers
did likewise, and soon there was no shortage of buck meat in the camp.
[Sidenote: PROLONGED FIGHT AT NKESSA’S]
Meantime, during the 10th, 11th, 12th, and 13th of September, a stern
struggle had been raging at Nkessa’s, and not until the evening of the
13th were the enemy dislodged from their many positions and driven back
some three miles south, and the hills and the river and the village
occupied.
The day following I went forward to make a sketch survey of the
battle-field, which, owing to the extensiveness of the operations, I
did not complete until four and a half days later; throughout that time
labouring from daylight to dusk to get over the many positions. While I
was at Nkessa’s enemy movements were fairly quiet, excepting for some
night shooting on 15th, 16th, and 18th. The enemy were entrenched across
the Mgeta River about three and a half miles south of Nkessa’s, and some
of our forces were dug-in opposite them. For, for reasons beyond my
knowledge, operations, and the active chase, had, for the time being,
come to an end.
[Sidenote: A WELL-CHOSEN POSITION]
I give here a description of the country held by the enemy before
Nkessa’s village:
To advance to the encounter Nkessa’s was approached from the east on the
Tulo-Kissaki road—a narrow, inferior road through the low country, and
running westerly parallel with the southern foothills of the Ulugúru
mountains, which were always visible well off to our right. The road
throughout was over level grade, and passed through country of thorn-bush
growth and tall, dense grass.
Approaching Nkessa’s, the foothills draw in to close proximity of
the village, and, about 2,100 yards north of the road, a prominent
bush-covered hill, and a long ridge trending west, rise to an elevation
of about 300 feet from dense, bush-grown bases, and command the flat
country south and east; over which our forces advanced to attack.
South of the prominent hill, between the hill base and the road, the low
ground formation is irregular, with small nullas and mounds and the whole
surface a dense tangle of bush growth and tall grass.
Adjoining this, and continuing to the eastern edge of the village, there
is a square-planned rubber plantation, while above the northern boundary
of it there is a low spur, on which is situated a group of planters’
buildings. From those buildings, which are clearly in view from the low
ground, a narrow road runs down, between the village boundary and the
plantation, to the main road.
Across the main road, opposite the rubber plantation and the low ground
below the hills, there is a large level mealie-field, clear of crop,
which parallels the road for 1,000 yards or so from the village, and
which has a narrow width at the village, but which opens out fan-wise to
a depth of 550 yards at its easterly extremity, where it is bordered by a
cotton-field in crop. East of the cotton-field, where some of our forces
dug in, the country is level, with a surface of tall rank grass and a few
bushes.
Bordering the south margin of the mealie-field, and continuing some
distance east, is a belt of dark jungle composed of tall trees and
tangled bush.
Immediately south of the tree belt, at the south-west margin, there is a
village of native kraals hidden by some fields of tall-stalked mealies
and by the tall, rank grass common to the low ground of the Dunthumi
River, which in the rains is flooded.
Farther south of this there are no decided landmarks, the country running
out like prairie, low and level, and grown with tall, rank grass, and
screening the Dunthumi River, which swings on to an easterly course after
it has left the hills and passed through Nkessa’s village and beyond
about a mile.
Turning now from the south aspect to the west aspect:
Immediately west of the prominent hill above the road, there runs
north and south, across a deep parallel valley, a long ridge which, at
its southern extremity, descends abruptly to the Dunthumi River, and
from the ridge the course of the river is clearly seen below, in the
immediate foreground, and running out south through its margins of tall
grass. Across the river, and just north of the village, the country
rises brokenly into low, bush-covered foothills. Those foothills were
unoccupied by enemy. From the ridge Nkessa’s village is not seen,
it being under cover of the large mango trees, and palms, and thick
forest, amidst which it is situated. However, it is a large village of
native huts, with a broad white road running through the centre of it
which is shaded with avenues of great densely leafed mango trees, and
lined on either side with native dwellings, grass-thatched, mud-walled,
sand-floored.
From the village, a track runs out south along the west bank of the
Dunthumi River. The track is narrow but level, and passes through low
country with the usual perplexing growth of tall, rank grass and thorn
bush.
One may gather, from this detailed description, the immense natural
difficulties of the country, and how hard it may be to turn an enemy
out of such positions. Here the only area of open space—viz. the
mealie-field—down which an attacking force might push rapidly forward,
was ruthlessly exposed to enemy fire from no less than three sides—from
the village, from the low bush north of the road, and from the dark
tree-belt south of the road. It meant death to too many to attempt it.
The alternative attack was to advance slowly, through the all-screening,
hampering bush, upon those concealed entrenchments in the grass; never
sure, even when the enemy are located by their fire, of the exact
position of the foe; never sure, at any time, what the next twenty
yards of jungle hold in store for you. You are blind from the time you
enter the rank jungle growth until you reach the enemy’s position, and
you are lucky if at the end you have sighted an enemy at all, though
you have been blazing away at one another at some fifty yards. And
picture the difficulty of keeping in touch with your own people in such
jungle, which, the moment you enter it, swallows you up in its depth of
undergrowth as if you were a rabbit taking cover in a field of ripe corn.
Not only is it difficult—I might say impossible, sometimes—to know where
your own people are, who are advancing on the right or left, but also it
is difficult to know the movements of the enemy. One moment they may be
in front of you; a few moments more, and they may be gone, undetected—all
but a few bluffing rifles—to a new position, or may be working round on
an open flank.
Truly the enemy chooses his positions well, and it is the country, not
he, well though he fights, that robs us again and again of decisive
battle. Their positions are, with rare exceptions, chosen where they and
their movements cannot be seen, and thus their strength, at the many
points of battle, may be either a handful of men or a dozen companies.
Moreover, under cover of the bush, their lines are flexible to any
change, while always, in the rear, they have sure and safe lines of
retreat by which they can escape in the bush, in a dozen directions,
to meet again at a given point when their flight is over. Moreover, the
enemy is always on his own soil, whereas each new battle-front is, in
all its details, for us an unmapped riddle of which eye and mind have no
clear conception.
[Sidenote: BUSH FOILS DECISIVE COMBAT]
I have often been asked, “What were the difficulties of the
campaign?”—for the uninitiated have sensed that there were
difficulties—and I have answered, “Our greatest enemy to overcome was
the ever-blinding, ever-foiling bush and jungle growth; our second enemy
was the intensely hot climate, and subsequent disease; the third enemy
was the shortage of adequate rations; and the fourth enemy was the
grim tenacity of a stubborn and worthy foe.” There you have the four
essential conditions that made the East African Campaign a long one. But,
undoubtedly, the main condition, the one that can never be overlooked, is
that, in a territory 176,210 square miles larger than Germany—which is
seven-eighths larger than the whole area of the German Empire—the country
was a vast, unbounded wilderness of bush, with ready cover to conceal all
the armies of the world. Into that blank area were placed our tiny pawns
of armies, to move and counter-move, with the touch of blind men, in
pursuit of peoples who were, in their knowledge of the country, like wild
animals in their native haunts.
And there for a time we must leave this subject, and the enemy—free like
wild animals in the bush—while I return to our camp life at Tulo.
On the 19th of September, leaving Nkessa’s, I rejoined my unit at
Tulo, and remained there ten days, while the operations of our column
stood more or less at a standstill. Apparently our chase from Morogoro
had entailed even greater difficulties than usual to our line of
communication, and a breathing space had become imperative to attend to
road repairs in the hills behind, and to augment our failing supplies.
Ultimately it transpired that our onward-pressing advance had come to a
prolonged halt that was to confine us to this unhealthy area for three
and a half wearisome months, while rains fell incessantly in the Ulugúru
hills in the rear and blocked the road to almost all traffic. Hence we
were constrained to wait in patience, holding on to our front in this low
country, and subsisting on such rations as could be got through to us,
while here too it rained, though in lesser quantity than in the hills.
When we came down out of the hills into the low country our battalion
camped for nineteen days at Tulo, before moving on, on the 30th of
September, to take over permanent positions at Old and New Kissaki on the
Mgeta River.
[Sidenote: DELAYED AT TULO]
A few records of Tulo may be interesting, and I will endeavour to follow
our existence there for a few days.
TULO, _21st Sept., 1916_.
Heavy rains overnight and all to-day, causing much discomfort, since we
have no shelter or clothing against such weather. We have been camping
under mere sun-shelters, hastily erected, and protection only from the
heat. We had been caught unprepared, and as penalty slept the night in
soaking blankets on the sodden ground, while to-day has passed without
chance to dry anything, not even our wet blankets. To-morrow, the
ambulance will attend more fever cases than ordinarily.
TULO, _22nd Sept_.
Rain has ceased, and everyone in camp is to-day employed rectifying
their shelters against a recurrence of downpour by rigging, over their
camp spaces, steep-pitched roofs, framed with green poles cut from the
bush, and thatched with compact layers of long grass gathered from
the surrounding country by our porters. In the afternoon I rode out
south-west across the river to look for game, and secured three Reedbuck
in open, dried-out swamp country.
TULO, _23rd Sept_.
Remained in camp all day. Overnight heavy firing was heard in the
direction of Nkessa’s village. To-day a crocodile was shot in the Mwuha
River: it measured 13 feet 1 inch.
TULO, _25th Sept_.
[Sidenote: KILLING GAME FOR HUNGRY PORTERS]
Nothing new to-day. No fresh news of “our” war, or of the European
war, of which we get but scraps of information at intervals. Spent
the morning on battery drills and on machine-gun instruction. In this
country, where sickness is so rife, it is impossible to keep an efficient
gun team together for any length of time. Old hands slip away each week,
and men to replace them have endlessly to be instructed in the intricate
mechanism of the gun whenever halt gives opportunity. In the afternoon
out for a hunt, to keep fit, and to look for buck meat, chiefly for
porter food, as their ration issue is very short. But to-day I searched
without success, principally through having a local native with me who
purposely, or foolishly, took me over what proved to be very poor game
country. Nearing camp on the way home, I shot four of those delicious
table birds—the wild guinea-fowl, which I have—wanting a shot gun—taken
to shooting with our ·303 service rifle; which indeed now serves for the
killing of anything from a partridge upwards.
Next day, still wanting meat, I rode out on horseback and, with the
assistance of my porter followers, brought in the meat of four Reedbuck.
On the 28th of September I again went out with the same purpose, and
secured three Waterbuck, animals about the size of a mule and of the
same dark mouse colour. In this way were the natives tided over some bad
ration days.
Before passing on, I must mention a strange incident that occurred last
night. A great pack of hyenas, like a pack of timber wolves, came from
the bush to the east, right through the centre of the camp, snarling and
howling and fighting at our very hut doors as they passed, arousing the
whole camp to wakefulness and astonishment with their gruesome, fiendish
uproar. The camp, in pitch darkness, was a regular wolf garden for some
minutes, ere the last of the howling, quarrelling mob had gone through,
and passed beyond the camp. Why such a thing occurred no one could tell
next morning; the impression given was that the whole band was chasing
something, a wounded buck perhaps, or one or two outcasts of their own
kind; but, in any case, they were so intent on their business that they
knew no fear of our presence, for they went through our camp, in their
wild excitement, just as if they were going down a main city street,
though in ordinary temperament such surroundings would have filled them
with the greatest suspicion and fear.
So much for the small events of bush life while we lay at Tulo.
After the usual reorganising, preparatory to abandon a camp we had been
settled in for some days, we left Tulo in the early morning of 30th
September, and trekked forward to Nkessa’s, _en route_ for Kissaki;
there to take over the positions captured some time ago by South African
forces, in conjunction with operations on this side.
Meantime we had learned that we were to remain on in the country, a
reduced but a hard-dying Imperial unit, though in the latter months of
this year a great many exhausted white troops were sent back to better
climes—I believe, in all, some 12,000, the larger number of whom,
excepting a battalion of the Loyal North Lanes, and the 2nd Rhodesians,
had landed in the country in the early part of the year. These troops
were replaced, in time, by newly raised battalions of King’s African
Rifles, and by the Nigerian Brigade—all of them native regiments,
accustomed to the hot African climate.
[Sidenote: ADVANCE TO RUFIJI POSTPONED]
The advance to the Rufiji had by this time been definitely postponed,
and our command was now concerned in holding the Mgeta River front at
all vital points, and in patrolling, continuously and alertly, the
intervening country from post to post. Our battalion was ordered to
Kissaki Fort, and to Camp A—the old Arab fort of Kissaki, and about
two miles south of the present fort. In taking up these positions
we were on the extreme right of the Mgeta front, a front that lay
virtually east and west along the course of the river. Our camp at Old
Kissaki was within a square compound, walled in by an ancient hedge of
impenetrable, needle-leaved cactus. Within the compound were some old
stone foundations of long-demolished buildings, and in the centre an old
unused stone-built well. Outside the compound a road ran in from the east
to the very entrance of the square, to turn off abruptly there and head
north on the way to New Kissaki Fort. The road outside the compound,
in both directions, was bordered with solid-looking avenues of large,
thick-leaved mango trees, while underneath those trees, on the road from
the east, nestled the shaded grass huts of a score or two of peaceful
natives. In the neighbourhood of the fort some land was cultivated, but
where not, it grew dense and rank, with tall grass and low bush. In the
big rains of February—April the entire country adjacent to the river is
two or three feet under water, say the natives; and they tell of how
they then go to live in the hills. This locality had a considerable
native population, and their huts and mealie patches are to be found at
intervals near to the banks of the river along its course.
[Illustration: NATIVE KRAAL.]
[Sidenote: PEACEFUL NATIVES AT KISSAKI]
These native habitations have with them a certain human homeliness, a
certain attractiveness, that is altogether foreign. Picture a group of
tall, full-bodied trees with thick foliage, dark and green, from which
issues the pensive, melodious “co-coo-oo” of African doves toward the eve
of a throbbing, sun-scorched day, when the air is cooling, and you are
fortunate to have leisure to notice that the scenes and the sounds are
pleasant and restful. These are the mango tree (Mwembe)—trees of blessed
shade against the hot sun, and trees that, when the leaves are ready to
fall, in October or November, give a rich harvest of delicious mango
fruit.
It is here, close to their sheltering shade, that the native huts are
grouped; huts with a great proportion of steep roof of weather-darkened
grass, and with low squat walls of baked reddish mud. Here naked children
play around the tree-trunk roots, in the shade, while old shrivelled-up
women, or labouring wives, together under the hut-eaves, croon their
soft Swahili folk-songs, in tune with the doves in the trees, in tune,
indeed, with all that is African. About the habitations are some patches
of cultivation—a not extensive irregular area of ground cleared, without
choice of fair angles or straight lines, in any old haphazard way,
wherever the bush could most easily be cleared, or where the soil held
most richness and moisture. Here and there in the clearing stands a great
wintry looking, sparsely leaved wild fig tree (Mcuyu), a landmark to
the eyes of all. On those clearings are grown millet (Mtama) and maize
(Mahindi), which is the harvest of the native—his bread, as it were, his
chief staple food. Part of the crop is standing, twice the height of man,
tall, clustering reed-canes with long ribbon leaves and bending, burdened
seed-heads, caught into motion, and rustling in the light, undulating
wind. Here, moreover, from the neighbouring bush, numerous doves fly,
swift-winged and grey, to feed on the ground among the stems; to search
out the broken heads that have fallen, or to perch, with some effort to
balance, on swinging plant top to plunder the ripened head. Part of the
crop has been cut as need required, and, in the open, the stem-strewn
stubble lies, straw brown, and level, and tinder dry.
Such is the common aspect of the native habitations in this neighbourhood.
Within the compound we built our huts of shelter—for owing to transport
difficulties we never had tents—and strongly entrenched the perimeter
against attack. Water we carry from the river, which is about half a mile
south down a dusty track between bushes; and since this same water is
essential to existence here, vigilant pickets guard the river drift, day
and night.
Here at Camp A, as the old fort was designated, we had a period of heavy
duties, busily fortifying the position, while rations became shorter and
shorter.
[Sidenote: UNDER-FED, UNDERCLOTHED SOLDIERS]
On 3rd October I record:
Another day of fatigues. Every one more overstrained than usual, for
we are now in low country that is excessively hot and relaxing. It is
difficult to keep up good spirits all round. Unfortunately there is no
ration improvement, and no word of fresh kit coming, of which all are
much in need. Notice shirtless men in camp, with badly sun-burned backs,
and men on the march without socks. One sees, in the brave suffering of
men, many things in these days to make one’s heart sore and sad. To-day
General Sheppard, the man who has won the popularity of our men, and of
all, visiting the camp from Dakawa, paraded the remnant of our force and
spoke encouragingly of the ration shortage, thanking all for enduring the
hardships so cheerfully, and promising at least some improvement in four
days’ time.
At this time, too, most men are without even the solace of tobacco,
having run completely out of it, though some tackle the crude native
stuff, and make of it cigarettes by rolling it in paper or in dry
mealie-cob sheaths. At best this was a hot, rank smoke which some could
put up with, but which many had to forgo, after a brave trial or two.
But light may glint through even the worst of shadows, and a day or two
later some parcels reached camp from home, and priceless were they to
their lucky recipients. I wish those at home who had sent those gifts
could have witnessed, even though it might have brought tears to their
eyes, those ragged men rejoicing over the gifts that meant so much to
them in their need, and were not to be bought for their weight in gold.
Yet, after all, they were but little things; such as a pair of socks,
some packets of Gold Flake cigarettes, a cake of soap, a candle or two,
and a few tins of sardines or biscuits. Nothing at all when you are
living in civilisation or near to it, but everything to men heart-hungry
and half-starved of any luxury for nigh on two years.
Yes! we had our “mean” days in Africa, plenty of them. We had had them
before, we were having them here, and we are certain to experience them
again, but in all our roughing it those dark days at Kissaki cannot be
surpassed, and they were the days that found our spirits at the lowest
ebb.
During our stay in the Kissaki area, I will ramble over some of the
incidents of daily life as they chanced to come along. If they should
appear more personal than ought to be, in my endeavour to be accurate,
through describing incidents that were known directly to me, I would like
you to forget the “I” and imagine any one of us in that character, for,
besides the regular routine of patrols, all were employed on a variety of
similar duties, arduous and otherwise, and found our little pleasures,
one in the manner of the other, when the opportunity chanced our way.
KISSAKI, _5th Oct._
Carrying out orders received, to make sketch survey of Mgeta River and
neighbourhood east of drift. Found the river-banks of tall grass in many
places impenetrable, and therefore, to secure the principal bearings and
distances, I, and the two men who were with me, took to the water and
waded, waist-deep, some two miles down the centre of the broad stream. It
was, since the water was warm, not such an unpleasant proceeding as it
would appear, so long as no enemy, or crocodiles, put in an appearance;
and neither were seen. On the spits of sand on the river-side, where
they occasionally appeared, were many fresh footprints of elephant and
hippopotamus, telling that they habit this district in numbers, and haunt
the river at night and at daybreak.
To-day fifteen German Askaris passed wide of our picket at the river
drift. In the evening, cavalry reported a company of the enemy camped
close to the drift, and additional precautions were taken in camp against
an attack. But the night passed quietly, and no attempt was made by the
enemy, to seize and hold the river-bank, as was thought they might do.
Our forces here are small—growing smaller daily through sickness—and a
strong attack of the enemy might now make our position difficult to hold.
KISSAKI, _8th Oct._
[Sidenote: INCIDENTS OF CAMP LIFE]
This afternoon one of my porters rushed excitedly into camp and
breathlessly told that three Germans were cutting the telegraph wires
on the road north of the camp. Not, on the spur of the moment, being
able to find the O.C., I went unauthorised in chase with two machine-gun
volunteers, after I had left word that I had gone to keep in touch with
the enemy, and asking that reinforcements follow on later. I found that
the enemy had been alarmed by our porters, who were in numbers in the
bush, cutting wood, and had got a start of us, but we went in pursuit
nevertheless, and after a hot chase of about three miles we came in
sight of the enemy. We had crossed the river away back, and had followed
out the chase over native tracks, and were now far over our front. In
passing a group of native kraals we learned that the enemy, who had
just passed through ahead of us, were eleven strong, so when we sighted
them, on the other side of a bare mealie-field, we paused, awaiting
developments. And while we thus lay watching under cover of some bush, up
came seven Indian cavalry, who had been sent out from camp. Immediately
they charged on the enemy, whom we pointed out to them, outpacing us
altogether down the side of the field, though we followed at a run.
I thought then that we had the raiders sure—but we were doomed to
disappointment. The enemy, before the cavalry reached them, scattered in
the bush, to the left or to the right?—the cavalry, nor we, could tell
not where—and escaped under the rank jungle cover. Reluctantly, and after
much unsuccessful searching of likely groups of bush, we gave up at dusk
and returned to camp, feeling that our little adventure had deserved a
more fitting finish. However, I think we thoroughly frightened the enemy,
for the wires were not again interfered with while we lay at Kissaki.
KISSAKI, _15th Oct._
Seven German Askaris gave themselves up overnight. They report food
scarce, and also that numbers of natives are deserting and going off
west through the bush, their purpose to try to find their way back to
their homes. They also say, as we have heard before, that the German
carriers are partially bound when in camp, so that they cannot run away
in the night, if they wanted to escape.
Then I find a few entries when all was not as it should be and a little
cry of impatience had crept in:
KISSAKI, _16th Oct._
Bad night; suffering from dysentery. Weak and lay on my grass-bed all day.
_17th Oct._
Little better to-day and trying to get around duties. Feeling about
“all in” now, but must stick it out with the others, and trust that the
sickness will pass off.
_19th Oct._
[Sidenote: OVERSTRAINED AND LANGUISHING]
Feeling better to-day and cheerier, but I wish, since I’ve lost patience,
that we could get along with “the Show,” and then be quit of Africa for
a time, for I have a passionate desire that we should be free to change,
just for a little, the colour and the quality of a long-familiar picture
whose strange characteristics are now indelible. Sometimes, I’m afraid, I
feel as if I was in prison, and long for the freedom of the life beyond
these prison walls. Those are times when thoughts quickly fly in and out
the old scenes—dear old familiar scenes—and they are touched now with a
deep and a sure appreciation. Would that they could stay; would that, by
the strength of their willingness, they could lift me in body over the
vast space and set me in some fair, peaceful land! But, alas! so quickly
as I write they are back again, exhausted, and fluttering in the bated
African sun-glare. Nevertheless, for the hour, I am restless as those
thoughts. This campaign, this adventure of war, has been a long Game of
Patience, and I feel mad, poor wight, at times to chuck away the cards
and run. But, after all, I know that all is as it should be, and that
the hand must be strong to win. Yet it would be a very beautiful day in
my eyes were it ever to come to pass, this pictured freedom from war and
bloodshed, though for the present it is so far down the long blind trail
of the uncertain road before me that I may but carry the memory of things
that have been, and of things that are ideal.
So may I ponder—so may others here, though they are but thoughts that
well up for a moment, and then fade away into the far distance of space,
where, like the setting sun, or the mists on the hills, they may mingle
with the mysteries of Beyond. However, I have paused long enough with
such thoughts, and will leave them now, perhaps a little reverently, and
go on with the record of other days for neither thought nor the span of
a day can hold steadfast for long, without the intervention of onward
passing time, and change to other scenes.
KISSAKI, _3rd Nov._
[Sidenote: SEEKING A ROADWAY THROUGH HILLS]
I am back in camp again, after being away seven days on reconnaissance
up into the Ulugúru mountains, to try to find a suitable track, back
over the hills to Matombo, for porter transport during the approaching
rains, when the low road, via Tulo, will be flooded. My party was made
up of privates Taylor and Wilson, six native carriers, and a shrewd old
native who was supposed to know the country, and, contrary to usual
experience, did know it. We found the outermost point of our journey at
Kasanga, overlooking Matombo, and high up in the mountains—elevation,
3,900 feet—amongst majestic hill-slopes and fair deep valleys which
were cultivated by the numerous inhabitants of the hills, who dwelt
everywhere, in their little bits of “crofts,” like the ancient highlander
of mediæval ages. We were two days out from camp when we found ourselves
in this land of plenty, and land of great beauty; for the scenery
surpassed anything we had previously seen in Africa. Up in the mountain
heights the air was cool, almost cold; mists fitfully swept over the
peaks and dropped like waterfalls into the valleys; it rained, then
cleared again—all ever-changing the picture, and the lights and shades on
the mountain slopes, and in the valleys—truly it was a most enchanting
country. The trail outward, up hill and down valley, and along the line
of least resistance, proved to be thirty-one miles in distance, all
of which was measured by counting the paces as we trudged along, and
surveyed by many compass bearings. From such data I was able completely
to map the route, on my return to camp, and this was the manner in which
I carried out all such work, when detailed information was wanted.
[Sidenote: ELEPHANTS]
On the return journey, after descending from the highest ranges, and when
drawing away from the last of the cultivated area, the party encountered
a small herd of elephant feeding amongst bamboos, and loudly breaking
their way along a wide valley bottom. Taylor and I, both armed with
·303 rifles, cut off the track and went to try to get a shot at the
beasts—both very keen to bag an elephant. Successfully we worked up-wind
on them, and finally drew near to two animals partly hidden in the fringe
of the bamboo belt. I doubted the killing capacity of our rifles, but,
when we fired, it transpired that both animals dropped—though in the
thick cover, for the moment, we couldn’t be sure of the full effect of
our shots—one dead, and the other emitting the most dreadful trumpet
blasts, that echoed and re-echoed, like thunder, in the enclosed valley.
The wounded animal could, apparently, not run away, but we dared not,
meantime, go any nearer to him, in case he should charge us down in the
tall, tangled grass, where, for us, running was well-nigh impossible.
Therefore we decided to leave him for a time, and return to where we
had left Wilson and the porters. We found our porter loads scattered
broadcast on the track, but not a black was to be seen, for, at the
trumpeting of the wounded elephant, they had scattered and fled in
mortal terror. Wilson, who was armed with a revolver only, and could not
take part in the shooting, in the midst of the uproar had been, while
standing on the track, almost knocked down by the rush past of a startled
Waterbuck. We shouted for the porters, and, one by one, they appeared,
reluctantly, from various directions, to be chaffed and laughed at. They
were all wildly excited when we said we had one or two elephants shot,
and lying in the bamboos below. Taylor and I had both been suffering from
malaria throughout the day—brought out by the cold in the hills—so we
decided on a drink of tea to refresh us, and hurried the boys about it,
while excited talk ran high. Twenty minutes later, though we could still
hear an occasional movement in the bamboos, we decided to venture down to
our quarry, but nothing on earth would tempt any of the blacks to come.
Soon I saw our quarry, badly wounded, but still able to move about a bit.
A moment later I put the elephant down like a log, with a fatal bullet,
and we could hear him venting great sobbing breaths as life gave out. We
now ventured close up, and saw him lying on his side with all legs out.
Now and again his huge head raised, but only to relax to the ground
again. By and by he was quite still, and then we went up to him. We were
looking at him, highly delighted, since it was our first elephant, when
Wilson cried “Look out!” pointing, as he did so, to our right. We wheeled
round to see, indistinctly through the canes and grass, the head and the
great forward-thrust ears of an elephant quite close to us—I fired, and
again rang out that appalling trumpet cry. Soon, as all was quiet, we
went forward cautiously, to exclaim our surprise when we found a great
cow elephant dead—killed by one of our first shots—and a young bull
fatally wounded beside her. The wounded animal was dispatched, and, after
some trouble, and assurances that there was not another elephant alive
in Africa, we persuaded the black boys to venture down, and to start
cutting out the tusks from the skull base with their long-bladed, heavy,
wood-chopping knives. I left them, then, to get under the shade of a
tree, and to roll myself in my blanket, for by this time I was absolutely
exhausted, and in high fever. Water had been found near-by, and I had
given orders that we would camp here till the morning. I hazily remember
looking out of my blanket about 5 p.m., when the sun was lowering, to
see the tusk trophies lying close to me and the native boys, “happy as
kings,” smoking huge pieces of elephant trunk, placed on bamboo racks
over well-fed fires.
Next day, in the morning before we moved on, troops of natives began to
arrive from the hills to cut up, and smoke, and part roast, the elephant
meat—to carry it off, when ready, to their homes. It was good to see
their simple rejoicing at securing such plentiful food.
On one other occasion I ran across elephants when on reconnaissance
work. This was about six miles south-west of Kissaki, at hot springs at
the northern end of Magi-ya-Weta hill. I had been out looking over the
country, with the view to finding a road route, when I found that large
herds of elephant had been recently at the water below the springs, and
in some places had wrecked the bush-forest when feeding—for an elephant,
if wanting to reach the upper growth, thinks nothing of grasping a
tree-trunk, and pulling downwards with his mighty weight (a large
elephant weighs about seven tons) until the tree, which has commonly a
diameter of six to eight inches, snaps off like a broken match, a yard or
two above the ground.
On my return to camp from reconnaissance I happily received permission
to go out again in quest of the elephants; and set out next day with my
fellow-officer, Martin Ryan—a Rhodesian, who was an experienced elephant
hunter.
KISSAKI, _5th Dec._
[Sidenote: AN ELEPHANT HUNT]
[Sidenote: TWO FINE ELEPHANTS KILLED]
Left camp at 6 a.m., Captain Ryan, self, and nine natives. We camped
about a mile from the springs at 12 noon. On viewing the ground, which
was new to Ryan, we decided to make the noon camp our base, and here left
six of the boys when we started out again at 3 p.m. About 4.30 p.m.,
when still searching for the large fresh track of bull elephant, we had
the extraordinary luck to see three large elephants, with fine tusks,
coming along the edge of a belt of forest, on our right flank and towards
us. Ryan, beckoning to me, immediately set out after them—after he had
dropped a handful of dust to test the wind—and, crouching and running,
we were soon very close to them, while the short-sighted brutes, intent
on feeding as they moved along in single file, were still unaware of
our presence. When at not more than fifteen yards from our quarry, Ryan
dropped on his knees, and fired on the elephant opposite him (the centre
one of the three), trying to get in the brain shot, just in front of the
ear. On the report of Ryan’s shot the rear elephant cleared off the way
it had come, while the leading elephant swung wide and then crossed back,
at full run, attempting to rejoin its companion. This elephant I now
gave my attention to—for I had hesitated, while the huge bulk of Ryan’s
elephant interrupted my view—and got in four shots which apparently
had no effect, though I felt fairly certain that the second and fourth
shots had been true. I followed the brute at a run, but, for the moment,
couldn’t find trace of him where he had disappeared in thicker forest.
Meantime Ryan’s elephant had recovered, and had got away with six shots
in him, delivered at hand-to-hand range; so I rejoined my comrade, to
find him empty-handed and fearing he had “mulled” his chance. However, we
now set about tracking his elephant over ground very difficult to follow
tracks on, as it was hard and dry, and strewn with dead leaves, and had
been trampled over recently by numerous elephants. Again and again we
went off on a false track, until Ryan, whose keen eye was looking for
such minute signs as a single freshly crushed leaf, or a small broken
twig, stem, or grass, would declare he was at a loss once more. At
last, nearing dusk, Ryan said, “We’ll have one more try and then go to
camp,”—and the “one more try” found our prey, outstretched and dead,
under the trees of a thick growth of forest. He was a great brute with a
splendid pair of tusks, the largest Ryan had ever secured, and this was
his fifty-seventh elephant. A few measurements I took next day were:
ft. in.
Length—from snout of trunk to root of tail 19 3
Length of trunk 6 6
Height to shoulder 10 6
Girth of body 18 0
Length of tusks 6 1½
Weight of tusks, 58 lb. and 59½ lb. = 117½ lb.
[Illustration: A GOOD BAG: 268½ LB. OF IVORY.]
We returned to camp highly delighted with our success, and reached it
with difficulty in the dark. On the way to camp we encountered a cow
elephant feeding in a swamp, and Ryan took considerable pains to pass
it, at some distance, without being detected, for he was afraid that if
it had a calf and scented danger, it would charge, and prove a furious,
fearless brute. I, in my ignorance, would, perhaps, not have foreseen
danger there, but it afterwards made me think a bit of the risk of
elephant-hunting, when I saw this seasoned hunter treating a single
animal with such great respect and care. But Ryan told me that you may
only have to make a mistake once, and pay the full penalty of it with
your life. He said there are few men, who have hunted elephants long,
who are not in the end caught; and long is his list of those who have
been killed in Rhodesia by an enraged elephant, at the far end of their
hunting days.
We could hear many elephants moving near camp during the night—a herd of
cow elephants, Ryan conjectured, for at this season the bulls roam singly
or in very small numbers.
At daybreak next morning we set out for the scene of yesterday’s
adventure, taking all the boys with us. On reaching our quarry we
started the natives to break in the skull to the root of each tusk, an
undertaking that, even with axes that we had brought for the purpose,
kept the boys incessantly labouring for nigh on two hours, so hard and
so great are the bones of an elephant’s head. Meantime, I and a native
had gone off to try to track my elephant, starting from the point of
shooting and working out to where I’d last seen him. Soon, following his
track step by step, we found he had swung to the right, and I then knew
I had overrun him yesterday. In a quarter of an hour more, great was my
joy to come on him stone dead, not 500 yards from where Ryan’s elephant
lay. Again he proved to be all that he had looked (for Ryan had yesterday
declared the leading elephant to be the best one), a grand old bull, with
a beautiful pair of tusks, weighing, it later proved, 74 lb. and 77½ lb.,
= 151½ lb., and measuring 6 ft. 5½ in. in length. He was shot through
the lungs, and his right hind-leg was crumpled up under him, so probably
he was hit somewhere there also, though it was, of course, impossible to
move him and see.
We got back to camp in the late afternoon with our loads of ivory, which
took six men to carry, and next day trekked to Kissaki, where our arrival
with such fine trophies caused much interest and not a little excitement.
[Sidenote: PREPARING TO ADVANCE AGAIN]
The last weeks of the year 1916 marked various activities on our front,
in preparation for another advance. Trees were felled in large numbers in
the river neighbourhood, and with such crude timber more than one stout
bridge was thrown across the Mgeta River, opposite our camps.
Away, even to Kirengwe, ten miles west of the old boma, a party of us
went out to cut a twelve-foot road through an otherwise impenetrable
forest belt, in preparation for a wide flank advance. In those last
weeks of the year, also, some of us did considerable reconnaissance
work, and were interested in gaining as much knowledge as possible of
the enemy’s country across the river, particularly in the direction of
Wiransi hill, which was on the enemy’s line of retreat from Dakawa.
Supplies, too, had improved; and our forces were strengthened and
augmented by other units. Captain Selous, who had been invalided home to
England some months before, arrived in camp on the 16th of December with
a draft of 150 fresh men; and at a time when our effective strength was
very much reduced through sickness and exhaustion.
Selous looked hale and hearty, and the grand old man he was. How fine
an example of loyalty he gave, in thus, at his great age, returning
again to the front to fight his country’s battles! It was pleasant to
see him back amongst us again, for his own sake, and for the additional
joy of hearing directly of the old country, and of how we were faring
in the great war at home. Of course talk drifted to hunting, and we had
to exchange news since last we met: he of a large butterfly collection
which he had collected in the first year and had taken home, and we of
our hunting since he left. Meantime machine-gun porters were building
the Bwana M’Kubwa (the Big Master) a grass “banda,” and soon Selous was
comfortably sheltered among us. I mention this because it was here, at
the old Kissaki boma, that Selous was destined to have his last brief
rest from travel, his last sleep in comfort, ere he met his death on the
field of battle some two weeks later.
On the 20th of December it was known that a move was anticipated, and
preparations for trekking were commenced. It was decided, in due course,
that we advance on the 27th, but on that date, and on the day previous,
heavy rains fell and the move was postponed, while at the same time it
was reported that, owing to the storm, our heavy guns were stuck on
the road beyond Tulo. If rains continued it would be most unfortunate.
Undoubtedly the wet season was near, and, I remember, Selous had grave
doubts of the weather at this period, and feared that the whole operation
might be stopped, for he knew the swift change the big rains would bring
about, and how flooded and impassable the country would become. However,
after five days of rain, the weather cleared somewhat, and we had orders
on New Year’s Eve that to-morrow the Mgeta position would be attacked.
Meantime, on the 30th, a column, under General Beves, moved through our
camp, _en route_ to Kissaki Fort and thence to Kirengwe, to advance, away
on the right flank, on Mkalinso on the Rufiji River.
[Sidenote: ATTACK ON TWENTY-MILE FRONT]
The early morning of New Year’s Day found our forces across the river
at points along a wide twenty-mile front, and attacking the enemy’s
elaborate entrenchments wherever they were known to exist.
Under the direction of General Sheppard, the fighting on our column took
place opposite Dakawa. Part of the force made a frontal attack on the
enemy’s first-line trenches, and the remainder, after crossing the river
by the new bridge south of our camp, advanced from a westerly direction,
and successfully intercepted the enemy in their retirement from their
first line on to their second line. Here hand-to-hand fighting ensued,
and the foiled enemy Askaris three times charged with fixed bayonets in
their attempts to break through in ordered formation, but in all they
were defeated and scattered in the bush, in the end to escape in disorder.
The 130th Baluchis did splendidly in this fighting and bore the brunt
of the attack. Losses on both sides were severe, as a result of the
closeness and the fierceness of the fighting. Toward noon the fighting
on our front had eased off, and, with the enemy scattered and in full
retreat in the bush, we continued southward on the Behobeho road, camping
at 11.30 p.m., when the column had advanced some fifteen miles, and was
in touch with our force in occupation of Wiransi: for a small detachment,
travelling through the bush the previous night, had surprised and
captured Wiransi early in the day, taking some white prisoners and some
stores.
During the day operations to our east had been progressing with equal
success. On the centre General Cunliffe, with the Nigerians, had
advanced from Nkessa’s out to Kiderengwe, clearing the enemy from the
strong entrenchments before him on the south bank of the Mgeta River.
On the left flank, a column under General Lyall made a hard cross-country
trek in crossing westerly from Kiruru to cut the Duthumi—Kiderengwe road,
on reaching which they intercepted enemy retiring from before the central
force. Among other incidents during the fighting, a company from this
column charged and captured one of the renowned 4·1 Koenigsberg guns.
[Sidenote: MGETA RIVER IN OUR HANDS]
Thus evening found the whole network of entrenchments on the Mgeta River
front—so long the halting-place of operations—completely in our hands,
and the enemy in full retreat.
The night of 1st January passed uneventfully. Bugleless, drumless
“_Réveillé_”—silent as always in enemy country—was at 4.30 a.m. and
we trekked soon afterwards, but only into Wiransi, where we halted
until 4 o’clock in the evening; then continuing, we advanced out on
the Behobeho track some three to four miles, before striking off
south-westerly through tall grass and fairly open bush in the direction
of the Fuga hills. Aided by the light of a full moon, the column kept
on until midnight, when the hitherto level bush became more uneven,
and thick bush belts were encountered among low hills and “dongas” of
rough gravel surface. Halt was called in a fairly clear space of tall
grass, but almost immediately exclamations of pain and acute irritation
were heard on all sides from much-provoked individuals, and the air was
literally full of abuse—we had camped among a swarm of fighting ants, who
straightway attacked the bare legs and arms and faces of everyone, in no
half-hearted manner, but with all the malice of their angered millions.
It was suggested that we move to another camping-ground at once, but no
order came to that effect, and by and by, when the attacks abated, we
dropped off to sleep, one by one, too tired to continue to kill the more
vengeful of the ants that still bit deep into quivering weather-toughened
skins.
Next day we continued on, but made progress slowly in the neighbourhood
of Mount Fuga, hampered by river-beds and their precipitous descents
and ascents. We put in a trying day’s trek, considerably exhausted by
the heat and oppressive atmosphere of the enclosed bush, and finally
made camp at dusk between Mount Fuga and Behobeho—which was known to be
occupied by the enemy.
In conjunction with our force a column to the east are advancing on the
Behobeho track, and we heard that column in action to-day. We, on our
part, now outflank the enemy from the west.
On 4th January we moved before daylight, and slowly headed in toward
Behobeho. An hour or two later we made a prolonged halt, and lay
hidden under cover of the bush in widely extended formation, while
north-east we could hear the other column in heavy action. Anxiously
we waited—impatiently—but no enemy fell into the ambush. After a time
scouts, who had been watching the track which was but a short distance
ahead, hurriedly reported that enemy in scattered forces were retiring
along it. We then moved forward on the track-road, to take up positions
closely viewing it. As we drew near to the road some enemy were seen
approaching. On these we immediately opened machine-gun and rifle
fire, surprising them completely, and inflicting severe casualties.
Notwithstanding this they retaliated, gamely enough for a little, but
our firing wore them down, and soon those that remained were silent,
and fleeing in the bush. We were now astride the road in the rear of
enemy forces, but to the wily foe, aided by the nature of the country,
this only meant the brief blocking of their line of retreat. They would,
and did, avoid the danger in their path by taking to the wide area of
vacant bush to the east of the track, and scattered there to meet at some
prearranged rendezvous, in a distant zone of safety.
[Sidenote: TRYING FIGHT AT BEHOBEHO]
[Sidenote: F. C. SELOUS KILLED IN ACTION]
Meantime, having cut on to the track very close to the village of
Behobeho—which we later learned harboured a large German camp—a lively
action soon developed with forces entrenched before the village. Directly
north of the level ground on which Behobeho is situated, there are some
low, gravel-covered ridges, facing the village, and those we advanced on
to, and there a line was established, while fierce fighting continued
for some hours, with our men lying on the almost red-hot ground of the
ridge crests, beneath a scorching, merciless sun. Men who had been
exposed to African sun for nigh on two years, and were skin-hardened and
browned to the colour of leather, nevertheless suffered serious sunburn,
and were blistered and peeled like delicately skinned children, on the
following day, so great had been the heat reflected from the white gravel
crystals on which they had lain. It was a trying fight in other uncommon
ways, for, though we were in fair positions against the enemy before
the village, we were fully exposed to sniping from the tall trees which
shaded the village, and we suffered a considerable part of our casualties
on that account. It was here that Captain Selous was killed, when
commanding his company in attack. His death caused a deep-felt whisper
of gravity and regret to pass along the line of faithful soldiers, who
loved him in uncommon manner, as their officer and as their grand old
fearless man. Here occurred an incident which speaks volumes for Selous’s
understanding of natives—on the just consideration of whom he held strong
opinions, and a broad generous view of kindliness toward untutored
humanity in any form, tempered with the latent authority of a strong
man. When Selous was killed, his native servant, Ramazani—who had been a
gun-bearer of Selous’s before the war—was overcome with grief and swore
to avenge his master’s death, and through the remainder of the engagement
he exposed himself in absolute fearlessness in his grim rage against the
foe. At the end of the day he claimed with conviction that he had killed
the man who had killed his master. About 4 p.m. Behobeho was occupied,
and the enemy in full retreat to Rufiji, which was now but another day’s
march farther on. Later in the evening the eastern column, which had had
severe fighting in dislodging the enemy from entrenched positions on the
road farther back, joined our force here. At Behobeho Captain Selous
and a few of the faithful “lean brown men” were buried in the shade of
a great baobab tree. Thus the famous hunter finished a career that had
been full of great risks and great adventures, fighting for his country,
at the age of sixty-five years—seeing through his last undertaking in
Africa as, perhaps, he would have chosen it should be, for this was the
continent he had explored the outer frontiers of, more than any other
living man, and in the early days, when Africa was “darkest” Africa, and
primitive races and strange diseases far more difficult to contend with
than they are to-day. Here he had found his life’s work, and had risen to
renown; and here, on the soil of Africa, he was destined to die.
The next four days, being wounded, I remained behind, and missed our
occupation of the north bank of the great Rufiji River. But bandaged, and
fit but for a crippled left “wing,” I was able to rejoin my battalion at
Kibambawe, and again take on my machine-gun command, which was otherwise
without an officer, since few remained fit at this stage. I found all
our forces on the banks of the Rufiji, and dug in against the enemy away
across the marsh-banked stream which, from memory, had a width of from
700 to 1,000 yards.
The opposite bank had been subjected to searching machine-gun fire
during the first two days, and now the enemy were quiet, and to effect a
crossing of our forces we—and also the western column, which had reached
Mkalinso—were apparently but waiting the construction of rafts, and the
arrival of the row-boats which were being brought up, all this distance
inland, from Dar-es-Salaam to surmount the difficulty of bridging this
river. However, our battalion remained but three more mildly eventful
days on the Rufiji front: then, being relieved, we had to commence a
long fourteen days’ march back to Morogoro, there to enter rest-camp,
and ultimately, some time later, to be sent from Dar-es-Salaam to South
Africa to recuperate for three months at “the Cape.”
The big rains were approaching. It transpired that they broke on 25th
January, soon after our forces had crossed and effected a lodgment on
the south shores of the Rufiji—and there active operations ended for some
months, while the country was deluged with torrential tropical rains.
A dispatch of General Hoskins, then commanding the East Africa
Forces—since General Smuts had a few weeks previously been called to the
War Cabinet in London—stated:
“By the 27th January the lines of communication from Mikessa
(on the Central Railway) to Kibambawe were interrupted by
the washing away of bridges and the flooding of roads, and
operations in all areas were henceforth seriously hampered by
the untimely rains.
“In the Mgeta and Rufiji valleys roads constructed with much
skill and labour, over which motor transport ran continually
in January, were traversed with difficulty and much hardship a
month later by porters wading for miles in water above their
waists.”
To native regiments was left the unpleasant task of “holding on” under
those dreadfully trying conditions, and there they remained, through
the months to come, marooned on their little bits of dry islands, with
flood water ankle deep around them; while we, lucky people, were out of
it for the time being, and were at last to enjoy rest and change, and
to witness, in South Africa, the civilisation and society to which our
long-bushed eyes and minds had been completely estranged for nigh on two
years.
[Illustration: LINDI AREA]