'GAINST HEAVY ODDS
The Rhodesians were men of few words. They were men of action; of the
same blood as the gallant party who, under Major Wilson, fought against
thousands of Matabele until the last cartridge had been fired and the
last man fell with his face to the foe under the keen stabbing-spears
of Lobengula's warriors.
The enemies that were threatening them were of a worse type. The
Askaris, naturally ferocious, were under German command, and the
German, whenever he is confident that he is on the winning side,
exhibited all the brutality and cruelty of his Hunnish ancestors.
Attila was a scourge; his modern descendants are simply imitators who,
having the thin veneer of civilisation, combine science with bestial
brutality in their methods of waging war.
Two of the troopers who were acquainted with the native dialect
proceeded to place the village under a rough form of organisation. In
spite of the severe restrictions laid upon the natives by their German
taskmasters--amongst others they were not allowed to carry arms--the
blacks managed to produce long-secreted numbers of spears, bows and
arrows and a few antiquated smooth-bore muskets.
Men were sent into the bush to cut down thorns and sharpened stakes.
These were set up in front of the existing stockade, the inner side of
which was still further strengthened by earth thrown up from a trench
three feet from its base. "Panjies" or sharpened bamboos were set
obliquely from the foot of the stockade, on the outside, to check a
rush at close quarters; the stockade itself, forming no protection
against modern rifle-fire, was to be used merely as an obstacle, the
defenders seeking cover in the ditch and behind the embankment formed
from the excavated material.
Hardly were these preparations completed when the shrill notes of a
bugle rang out, and a mounted officer, followed by a native orderly
bearing a white flag, appeared from the cover afforded by the bush.
Evidently the Huns had more faith in the Briton's respect for the flag
of truce than they had regard for that emblem in the hands of their
foes, for after a brief pause the officer, finding that his appearance
was not greeted with a volley of rifle-bullets, trotted boldly towards
the closed gate of the stockade.
"Halt!" ordered the Rhodesian officer, when the German drew within
audible distance. "Deliver your message."
The German, standing in his stirrups, shouted a demand for the instant
surrender of the garrison, promising honourable treatment if the terms
were complied with, and stating that the investing troops were fully
aware of the weak numbers of the British patrol.
"You might have spared yourself the trouble, Herr Offizier," replied
the patrol commander. "We mean to stick it."
"Vat you mean by 'stick it'?" demanded the envoy.
"To fight it out," was the grim reply. "Come on; we're ready."
The German made no further remark to the Rhodesian, but began an
harangue in the native dialect, inciting the blacks to turn against
their white allies, promising immunity and rewards.
"Stop that!" shouted the patrol commander sternly, raising his voice
above the angry murmur of the villagers. "Another word and the flag of
truce will not protect you."
The Hun scowled sardonically, and out of sheer bravado resumed his
incitement to the natives to surrender.
Picking up a rifle the Rhodesian took careful aim at the horse's chest
at point-blank range. The weapon barked. For a moment neither horse
nor rider stirred, then without warning the animal's forelegs
collapsed, throwing the Hun headlong in the dust.
The terrified orderly wheeled, and casting aside the white flag, rode
at full gallop to the shelter of the bush, his hasty and undignified
retreat being carried out without let or hindrance on the part of the
defenders of the kraal.
The German officer lay where he fell, the dead steed pinning him down
as it lay on its side with its hind, off-side leg rigidly extended at
an oblique angle to the ground. Partly stunned by his fall the officer
tried ineffectually to rise; then after a while he relaxed and lay
motionless in the broiling sun with swarms of mosquitoes buzzing round
the prostrate horse and rider.
Apart from the advantage of having a prisoner in their possession the
call of humanity urged the defenders to release and bring in the
injured Hun. The barricaded gate was thrown open, and two troopers ran
to effect the work of mercy. Even as they bent over the prostrate
officer and dragged aside the animal's carcass a ragged fire burst from
the bush at a distance of five hundred yards. Bullets ricochetted from
the dusty ground or whizzed unpleasantly close to the men's ears; but
coolly they proceeded with their task, and, unscathed, regained the
shelter of the stockade, bearing their prisoner between them.
"It's von Bohme, second-in-command of the Kelji Post," declared Rupert
Wilmshurst. He was too chivalrous to relate the indignities and
hardships he had suffered at the hands of this Hun in particular.
"They abandoned the post yesterday. Unless I'm mistaken they've a
couple of machine guns with them."
"Any field guns?" asked Dudley anxiously.
"Not to my knowledge," replied his brother.
"Thank heaven for that!" rejoined the subaltern fervently. "Well, how
do you feel?"
"Able to use a rifle," answered Rupert grimly.
A heavy hostile fire was being maintained from three sides, the bullets
either flying high--one of the characteristic faults of African native
troops--or else knocking splinters from the timbers forming the
palisade. The defenders, lying close, made no attempt to reply, for
the attackers were adept at taking cover and offered no target to the
former's fire. Presently, as Rupert Wilmshurst had predicted, came the
rat-tat-tat of a machine gun, and a swathe of bullets traversed the
open ground in front of the defences, rising until the hail of nickel
simply cut a gap in the palisade like a scythe against the ripe corn.
Between the huts some villagers engaged in driving their goats to a
more secure spot came under the machine-gun fire, two men being killed
and four wounded, the herd suffering severely; but these were the only
casualties, the defenders, both white and black, keeping admirable
cover.
For a quarter of an hour the one-sided action was maintained, then
still under the covering fire of the machine gun a battalion of Askaris
advanced at the double in company formation _en echelon_.
Simultaneously a half-battalion debouched on the opposite side of the
kraal.
Until the stormers came within four hundred yards their advance was
covered by the machine guns (for another had joined in the fray), and
consequently the scanty defenders dare not risk exposure; but the
moment the covering fire had to cease lest it should cause casualties
amongst the advancing troops the Rhodesians opened rapid fire at almost
point blank range.
The front attack stopped dead, the Askaris in open order falling in
heaps before the accurate fire of the trained Rhodesians. Despite the
efforts of their officers to advance the native troops refused to
stand. Bolting they were followed by galling volleys until the
resumption of the deadly machine-fire compelled the defenders to take
cover.
The rear attack was a more formidable affair, in spite of the fact that
the enemy force was considerably smaller than that of the frontal
assault. Met by fewer rifles, for only a mere handful of white men
could be told off on that side of the kraal, the Askaris contrived to
reach the palisade. It was here that the native auxiliaries proved
their worth, for with stones, arrows and throwing spears they put up
such a formidable defence that at close quarters these primitive
weapons held their own against the rifles and bayonets of the German
black troops.
For several moments the contest swayed with varying success until more
Rhodesians, who could now be spared from the front on which the main
assault had been repulsed, doubled up and made such good use of their
rifles that the enemy broke and fled, leaving behind forty or fifty of
their number lying dead in front of the stockade.
"Guess they've had enough," remarked Rupert Wilmshurst, who
notwithstanding his weak state had played a strong part in the defence.
"Doubt it," replied his brother. "Perhaps they won't make another
frontal attack while daylight lasts, but when it's dark they'll try
their luck."
The hours passed slowly. Occasional bursts of machine-gun fire
punctuated the continuous rifle-firing from the men concealed in the
bush. It was a prodigious waste of ammunition without any good result,
for the white men were too hardened to be shaken by the moral effect of
bullets whizzing overhead, while the native warriors, taking the
pattern set by their allies, showed no signs of fear or panic.
"If we only had a machine-gun," thought Dudley. "By Jove, I've a mind
to have a shot at bringing in one of those brutes after dark."
He broached the matter to the patrol commander, who gave permission to
any of his men to volunteer for the hazardous enterprise. There was no
lack of aspirants, for practically every man expressed his wish to take
part in the sortie. Finally the subaltern chose three Rhodesians and
his Haussa sergeant.
Taking a compass bearing of the position of one of the machine-guns,
for the cloud of steam arising from its overheated water-jacket
disclosed its place of concealment, Wilmshurst made a careful note of
the fact for subsequent use. There was, of course, the possibility of
the machine-gun being moved as soon as night fell, but that was a risk
that the sallying party must be prepared to chance.
Darkness came, but the desultory hostile fire was still maintained, the
bush being pin-pricked with the vivid flashes from the rifles. It was
now a nerve-racking ordeal, for more than once the defenders issued
from their trench and manned the outer palisade under the erroneous
impression that another attack was developing.
"It's a jolly good thing for us that they haven't any bombs," remarked
the patrol-commander. "I don't fancy our blacks would stand up to
them. By Jove! the villagers have shown any amount of pluck."
"They know that if the kraal's taken, their lives won't be worth a
brass farthing," rejoined one of the men.
"Don't know so much about that," added another. "They had a chance to
let us down and save their hides, but they weren't having any."
A meteor-like trail of reddish light whizzing through the air
interrupted the argument. Anxiously the defenders watched the course
of the missile, guessing but not knowing exactly what it was, until
with a crash it alighted upon the palm thatched roof of a hut about in
the centre of the kraal.
Several men rushed to the spot, regardless of the flying bullets, with
the intent on of tearing away the smouldering missile, but before they
could reach the hut the dull red glow gave place to a vivid bluish
flame. The mobile weapon was an incendiary rocket.
In a minute the hut was a mass of flames, the sparks communicating the
fire to the flimsily-constructed buildings adjoining it.
Strenuously the defenders, both white and black, sought to confine the
devouring element to certain limits by pulling down the huts in the
vicinity, but other incendiary rockets followed in rapid succession,
while the fire of the machine-guns redoubled in violence.
The fire-fighters made excellent targets in the fierce light, their
forms being silhouetted against the blazing huts, yet their losses were
comparatively few, for the machine guns were badly laid. Nevertheless,
before the men could take cover two Rhodesians were badly wounded, a
dozen villagers killed and thirty odd seriously injured.
In the midst of this turmoil Dudley, whose attention was centred upon
the enemy, detected a large body of men deploying from the bush.
Simultaneously other formidable detachments advanced upon the kraal on
all sides, showing up distinctly in the terrific glare of the burning
huts. To add to the horror of the scene native women and children were
shrieking in terror, and the horses and cattle were neighing and
bellowing as they instinctively realised the peril that threatened them
from the rapidly spreading flames.
But for the presence of their black allies the troopers would have
mounted and ridden straight at their assailants, running a good chance
of cutting their way out by weight of numbers and the speed of their
horses; but no thought of abandoning the natives to their fate entered
the heads of their allies. It would be a fight to a finish.
Leaving the conflagration to take its course every available man
hastened to the palisade. Rapid independent fire delayed but failed to
check the charge of ferocious, wildly shouting Askaris, whose courage
had been worked up by promises of rewards if successful, and dire
punishment in the event of failure. Full in the blaze of light the
horde of black faces gave the defenders the impression that they were
confronting a swarm of demons.
On both sides rifles cracked, steel crossed steel. Again spears and
arrows came into play, while some of the defenders hurled blazing
faggots with great effect upon the German levies. Yells, shouts and
shrieks of pain mingled with the rattle of musketry and the roar of the
burning huts.
Both sides fought stubbornly and furiously, but with this difference:
the defenders of the kraal were staking their existence upon the
result, the attackers, although under severe penalties in the event of
failure, were not confronted with the supreme decision that awaited
their foes.
Taking a favourable opportunity Wilmshurst and his squad climbed over
the palisade at a point where no attack was being made, and dropping to
the ground doubled in the direction of the now silent machine gun. It
was a daring stroke, as it temporarily weakened the little garrison,
where every rifle counted; but in the event of the raid proving
successful the possession of the deadly weapon would make all the
difference between victory and defeat.
Overtaking and avoiding numbers of wounded Askaris and a fair
sprinkling of Germans painfully making their way back to their lines
the raiders covered the intervening eight hundred yards in double time.
At the edge of the scrub the subaltern halted his men in order that
they might recover their breath.
They had discarded their rifles. Dudley and the Rhodesians were armed
with revolvers, Bela Moshi carrying an automatic pistol, formerly the
possession of a now defunct Hun, and a long, heavy, keen-edged knife
resembling the Mexican machete. Each man knew exactly what was
required of him, and, what was more, he was capable of carrying it out.
Creeping through the bush and outwitting a couple of Askari sentries
posted on the right front of the machine gun position the raiders came
in sight of their coveted prize.
The gun team was standing easy chattering furiously, and paying scant
attention to the progress of their comrades in the assault. Bela Moshi
afterwards declared that they were squabbling over the possession of a
small keg of rum, which was to them a far more important business than
the attack upon the kraal. Their European non-commissioned officer was
absent, otherwise the laxity of discipline would not have been taking
place.
Apparently there were no infantry reserves. If there were, they were
posted at a considerable distance from the machine gun position. It
was, therefore, expedient to make a surprise attack with fire-arms,
since the noise was immaterial as far as alarming the supports, and
very efficacious in throwing the machine gunners into a state of
demoralization.
Of the six Askaris forming the detachment five dropped at the first
volley; the sixth, after first rolling on the ground, sprang into the
bush, followed by a couple of shots the effect of which was not known.
Smartly Bela Moshi picked up the gun and tripod; a Rhodesian corporal
and a trooper seized the box containing the ammunition. Then, preceded
by a sergeant and followed by Wilmshurst and the remaining man, the
raiders bore off their trophy.
Followed by the ineffectual fire of the two sentries the squad doubled.
By the sounds in the rear it was evident that the alarm had been
communicated to the reserves, as the hurried patter of bare feet and
the excited orders of the German section commanders announced that the
men were aware of the loss of the machine gun. Musketry fire was
opened upon the retiring raiders, but in the darkness the shots whizzed
harmlessly overhead.
The haphazard fire was, however, taking toll amongst the attackers who,
already casualties, were crawling or walking back from the palisade. A
German officer, hit in the left arm, blundered right upon the captured
weapon and its escort. For the moment he was puzzled, knowing that
orders had been issued for the machine-gun party to remain in their
original position. Then, distinguishing the British uniform, he drew a
pistol and shouted to the party to surrender.
"Surrender yourself!" exclaimed the Rhodesian sergeant, raising his
revolver.
The Hun's reply was a shot that nicked the lobe of the non-com.'s right
ear. Almost immediately the latter returned the compliment, shooting
the German dead on the spot.
"Sorry," muttered the Rhodesian apologetically, for he had respect for
a brave foe. "You asked for it, Fritz."
The next instant Beta Moshi stumbled, the subaltern only just
contriving to avoid tripping over his prostrate body. Thinking that
the Haussa sergeant was hit one of the covering party began to raise
the machine-gun from the ground, but the Haussa was holding it tightly
in his arms.
Almost overthrowing the Rhodesian Bela Moshi regained his feet, swung
the trophy over his shoulder and resumed his pace.
The returning party were only just in time. Already a formidable
number of Askaris had broken through the stubbornly-defended palisade,
and by sheer weight were forcing their opponents back.
Faced by hordes of German levies and with the line of burning huts
preventing further retirement the defenders of the kraal were in a very
tight corner indeed.