We travelled all night over flat country covered with thick thorn-bush,
going in a south-westerly direction until 6 a.m. the following morning,
when we rested for an hour. Then we pushed on again; we wished to put
as great a distance as possible between us and the camp, as we thought
there was a danger of the Germans finding the missing water-bottles
and the half-bottle of rum at daylight. Even if they did, however, we
knew the native trackers would have a difficulty in picking up our
"spoor," as it had been raining during the night, and the rain would
have obliterated our footprints.
About noon we saw a herd of whitish animals, like mules, which I
understood were quagga. We also saw several herds of zebra. We halted
again at 1 p.m., rested for another hour, and then walked on until 9
p.m. The country here was hilly, with patches of thorn-bush, and the
veldt offered fair going. We rested until 11 p.m., walked on until
three next morning (February 5th) and rested until five. From 5 a.m.
we walked all day over sandy, flat country covered with thick bush.
Here I got separated from the others for about two hours, but was in
no danger, as I carried the compass at this time. I afterwards saw my
companions about a mile away, and we exchanged signals and soon came
together again. I then handed the compass back to Franzen, and between
him and Mackenzie it was carried for the remainder of the journey.
About 7 p.m. we got some water to drink from crevices in the rocks, by
sucking it up. It was a laborious business, but we wanted to conserve
our scanty supply as much as possible. This was about 9 p.m. Soon after
dark it commenced to rain very hard, and we got wet through, having no
shelter and all being in shirt-sleeves (I had discarded the tunic given
me by Trooper Lawford and buried it in the sand the previous day). We
moved on again at midnight, but were only able to proceed slowly as it
was still pitch dark, and the ground very rocky. However, we struggled
along until 4 a.m.
We started off again at daybreak, feeling frightfully cold and
miserable, our clothes being soaked through. We managed to fill four
water-bags from pools in the rocks, crossed a sand flat, and halted
about noon at a small kopje in the middle of it. While resting there
we saw a Klip Kafir coming from a north-westerly direction. He passed
without seeing us, and returned at about 3 p.m. with a companion. We
had to remain hidden until 5 p.m., owing to the proximity of these
natives, as they would have been dangerous to us. They are quite
uncivilized and wild, use poisoned arrows, and are generally shot by
the Germans at sight. They had four dogs with them, and we were lucky
the animals did not scent us.
We were obliged to sit tight for some time after these savages passed,
as they disappeared down an old riverbed, and we were not sure whether
they had remained there watching us or not. However, luckily for us, it
was the last we saw of them, so at about 5 p.m. we resumed our journey,
and continued walking until 7 a.m. the following morning (Saturday,
February 6th). During the night we suddenly came upon a few native huts
at the bottom of a cliff, close to an old riverbed, but we passed as
quickly as possible and none of the inmates appeared to have heard us.
Probably these huts belonged to the natives we had seen earlier in the
day.
We had now arrived at the "Blue Mountains," which we could see so
plainly from our prison camp at Franzfontein. We were obliged to keep
to the north of this range, as we looked upon it as being one of our
"danger-points." We had heard that the enemy had a signalling-post on
the highest peak, which communicated with Omarura. Since then I have
been informed that they not only had a signalling-post, but a whole
company stationed on top of these mountains, so our luck was again in.
Having rested from 7 to 11 a.m. we moved on once more. The country
now became very broken and hard to walk over. Deep kloofs and huge
boulders were much in evidence, and we had to do a lot of climbing. To
make matters worse, my boots were giving way fast, and had it not been
for the wirecutters given to me by Dunbar, I don't know what I should
have done, as with them I managed to pull out the nails and repair the
boots with a piece of wire I had in my pocket. My feet were now getting
very sore, and the climbing began to tell, for each hill seemed to be
steeper and higher than the previous one, and the ground got steadily
worse and worse.
About 2 p.m. we suddenly came on some running water, which gave us
great encouragement, as we thought it was the Omarura River, and we
rested here for an hour. Our "fat cookies" were now running low, and
we only dared eat half of one for each meal, when we could easily have
demolished six or seven and still felt hungry. At 3 p.m. we resumed our
journey for about two hours, but as we found the stream was bearing too
much to the north-west we reluctantly decided to leave it. Filling up
our water-bottles and sacks, and taking a good drink, we again struck
off in a south-westerly course across a high mountain. The stream we
had just left might only exist for a day, being caused by the recent
rains in the mountains. It was the first running water I saw in German
South-West, with the exception of the small stream at Franzfontein.
We continued walking until 7 p.m. and then waited for the moon to rise.
It made its appearance at 11 p.m. and we again resumed our wearisome
tramp and continued marching until 5 a.m., passing through a broken,
hilly region. We rested for about half an hour, and then "trekked"
on once more, continuing the whole day until 6 p.m. over frightful
country. I thought we should never come to the end of these terrible
mountains, and my poor feet were not improving. We rested from 6 till
10 p.m. and moved on again till 1 a.m., when we halted for three hours,
all of us feeling very tired and exhausted. This was Tuesday, February
9th. We started again at 4 a.m., got out of the hills about 7 a.m.,
and continued walking over fairly flat country until 11 a.m., when we
were obliged to halt and rest, as the heat was unbearable. At 3 p.m. we
"trekked" on. Our troubles seemed to be on the increase, for presently
my boots gave out altogether. One of my comrades, Maritz, manufactured
a pair of sandals for himself from my leggings, using his sheath knife,
and gave me his own _veldt schoons_[10]. His feet were in good hard
condition, as he had been going without boots for some considerable
time. The _veldt schoons_ he made himself whilst a prisoner, from
raw hide, and I found them very useful, although a little on the
small side. I was obliged to cut a piece off the toe of each, which
afterwards handicapped me, as the sand worked in and made blisters on
my feet. I used the pugaree from my hat and the bandages from my "first
field dressing" to prevent this, but with very little benefit.
We continued walking until 9 a.m., when we halted for two hours. Our
food was now running out. I had one "fat cookie" and Mackenzie had a
half of one. I shared mine between Franzen, Maritz, and myself. The two
men at first seemed reluctant to accept their portion, but I insisted
on it, saying that we might just as well all die together. At 11 p.m.
we again resumed our interminable journey, and walked on till 3 a.m.,
when we rested for one hour, and continued until daybreak. We could
now distinctly hear the roar of the sea, and also see the fog along
the coast. This gave us great encouragement, and we went ahead with
renewed energy. About 10.30 a.m. we struck some wheel-tracks leading
south-west, which we decided to follow. This was Wednesday, February
10th.