Three years of war in East Africa

On 14th May, 1916, I received orders to take the entire transport from Kibosho, west of Moschi, back to Mbuyuni, on the Taveta side, where the column was rapidly outfitting for another advance. The rains were over. Our rest at Moschi was at an end.

After a few days’ hurried preparation we marched out from Mbuyuni in the afternoon of the 18th of May, and continued on the way all through the night. It was a memorable march. I happened to be temporarily in charge of battalion transport, and had to set out with a batch of “green” mules which had been allotted to me on the previous day, and some of which had never had a saddle on. All through the trek it was incessantly a case of chasing escaped mules across country, repairing broken harness, and resaddling the rearing, frightened, stubborn brutes. I, and my comrades, spent the whole night on horseback, rounding up runaways, on the outskirts of the column, and we had our hands full. During our labours, four mules were completely lost in the dark; they had been either overrun and left far behind, or they had been caught by others. However, we got into camp in the end with two over our complement, for others had experienced the same difficulties as ourselves all along the column; and when in a tight corner, there is a popular old army maxim which says that “the Lord helps those that help themselves.” So we had helped ourselves, when we found stray animals without an owner. This first day out was the worst, in dealing with the transport animals, and very soon hard work and experience had won them all over to steady-going patient beasts of burden.

The column marched in stages from Mbuyuni to Taveta, from Taveta to Himo River, and from Himo River to Kahe; the battle-field of the 21st of March, and the line at which operations ceased when the rains overtook us. From Mbuyuni to Kahe was a trek of forty-two miles, and it was accomplished in three days, which was good going for a burdened column over bad roads.

At Kahe we rested a day and marched at midnight on 22nd-23rd May. The column was now trekking through bush and following the course of the Pangani River, about a quarter of a mile east of its banks. Thus, we hold well west of the Usambara Railway, but are travelling parallel to it. This is a sound manœuvre, for our position here will always worry the enemy in front of our forces operating on, or near, the railway in conjunction with us. It is clearly seen that, should the enemy on the railway make a stand, they would at once be threatened with a flank or rear movement from this side, unless they had sufficient forces to oppose, and hold, both columns. The country through which we are passing is flat, and mostly grown with thorn bush. There are no hills, excepting the distant ranges far out on our right and left. The soil here is sandy, and sometimes lava-strewn. Signs of game are plentiful. The column marched for ten hours before, in the forenoon of the following day, halt was called, and we camped. All were tired out, for, under any circumstances, a night march is trying; but we had been losing sleep for some days now, and were feeling strained accordingly. Regarding night marching, it is extraordinary how difficult it becomes to keep awake, either marching or on horseback, when monotonously plodding along. Commonly you will see a man dozing on his feet, but marching unsteadily on, and if the man in front of him should have occasion to halt, the sleeping man behind will walk forcibly into him, as an unseeing pedestrian may bump into a lamp-post.

During the early morning, on to-day’s march, an astonishing incident occurred. Some of us, on the transport line, were suddenly startled by the rush of an animal from the bush, and were amazed to witness a buck jump clean across the road, over the top of a double line of mules. Half a dozen white men and some natives saw this almost unbelievable feat. The buck landed on the far side of the road only two yards away from me, and I think it was a hartebeeste, but in the half-light I was unable to be quite certain of the species.

The following day, though we started at 3 a.m., the column had only got forward about eight miles when halt was called in the evening. Heavy bush had been encountered and was responsible for our slow progress, for laboriously a roadway had to be cut before the column could pass onwards. After camp was established, working parties went out ahead to continue hacking a clear way onward. About midnight we loaded our transport up, and moved out on the march about 3 a.m. We trekked all day slowly forward, and did not camp until after dark. It was a long, hard day, and everyone is feeling the pinch of meagre rations and want of sleep. The trail, being obstructed by heavy bush, continued bad, until in the afternoon the column emerged into an open grass-grown valley and made headway thenceforward smoothly and rapidly. To-day we have passed well beyond, and outflanked, Lembeni, on the railway—the point at which the German forces congregated on retiring from Kahe. Apparently the enemy have cleared.

The following day, the 26th of May, the column did not trek until 1 p.m., so that all, thank God, had the opportunity of securing a complete night’s sleep. Much refreshed and more cheerful was the column that marched out to-day. Late in the evening we camped near the Pangani River, about opposite Same Station, which lay away to the east of us on the railway. The weather continues rainless, and very hot.

27th May.—Trekked all day—a hot and wearisome march. The country we passed through was level and open, and we pushed on rapidly. The enemy are, apparently, fleeing far, for no resistance has been encountered, and our pace is accordingly as fast as man and beast can stand. Last night, ten Askaris and one white were captured in a patrol encounter.

28th May.—This Sunday morning we were astir at 3 a.m. and trekked until the late afternoon. The pace, and the heat, and the lack of water between camps are beginning to wear down the endurance of man and animal. The men were very tired, and cheerless, when they reached camp to-day; they had been loaded with equipment and on their feet for thirteen hours, and were almost past exerting themselves to cook food and look after their odd accoutrements. The oxen and mules, too, were about “all in” ere they reached the end of to-day’s trek, and the poor brutes, who must needs endure all in dumb suffering, get little enough care when the men who look after them are so very tired out at the end of such a day as this. Still passing through good game country. One herd of buffalo and many zebra were seen to-day.

29th May.—At 4 a.m. loaded up transport ready to march, but did not move off until two hours later. No rations this morning; supplies are stuck on the road behind. When the battalion marched out I received orders to stay back in camp to try to secure rations. This was accomplished during the forenoon, and I then proceeded forward with three food-loaded carts drawn by poor jaded oxen that were very far gone—during the drive forward two completely exhausted oxen had to be turned loose and a make-shift arranged by lightening one cart and driving it with a single span of oxen.

Meantime the enemy had been shelling the column ahead with one of their 4·1 naval guns, in position on the railway. When I approached the column, they were halted in extended formation in the bush. Before reaching them I had to cross an extensive open sandflat where the carts raised a cloud of dust, and this caught the enemy’s eye, for suddenly their gun—which had ceased firing for a space—boomed forth, and their shells, one by one, whizzed wickedly in close proximity. Some fifteen to twenty shells were sent at us before we had crossed that open space, but none found the mark, though three of them landed, straight in the centre of the trek, uncomfortably close in front. When we got through, it amused us to think that those innocent old carts had drawn the enemy’s fire—perhaps we were mistaken for artillery, or the dust-cloud of moving troops. On joining the battalion there was general rejoicing at the sight of rations, and something to eat was issued forthwith. About sunset the column drew off to the right, and camped near the river. To-day, instead of heading south as usual, we have followed the river-course almost due east, and have approached close to the railway and the South Pare Mountains. The advance troops of our column are to-day in touch with the enemy. We have been placed with the reserve force and remain in readiness close behind. The enemy’s position is at the entrance of the narrow neck formed by the meeting of the Pangani River and the hills at the south end of the Pare Mountains. Through this narrow fairway goes the Usambara Railway on its route to Tanga.

Next day, 30th May, the troops in front, under General Sheppard, attacked the enemy positions across the neck, and fighting continued throughout the day; the 2nd Rhodesians bearing the brunt of the battle. Close on darkness the enemy force retired, and escaped overnight. Casualties were fairly severe on both sides, for the fighting was stubborn, and the enemy stuck gamely to their positions. While our column was thus attacking, the eastern column—on the railway—had, some distance back, gone over the Pare Mountains and closed in on Buiko from the eastern side of the range, thus threatening to surround the enemy, in the neck, if they should determine to hold on there.

Meantime, everyone in reserve, though keenly disappointed not to be called into the fight, made the most of a halt that was needed by all, while starving oxen and mules were fully watered, and turned loose to graze on the scant grass and low woody shrubs which grew on the ill-nourished sandy surface in the somewhat open bush.

No fires were permissible, since smoke might give our position away, and draw artillery fire or a night attack; and accordingly our grub consisted of “straight” bully and biscuit, and water, a fare we were very familiar with now.

In the small hours of the following morning we loaded up the wagons and pack-mules, and moved out again. But we did not go any considerable distance before halt was called on the battle-ground of yesterday. The battalion to which I belonged was then ordered ahead, but the transport remained behind, and I with it, much to my disgust—we were very keen in those days, and no one liked to miss the smallest chance of a fight.

While in camp I looked over the enemy’s positions of yesterday. The entrenchments were all newly dug, and a splendid bridge was half constructed over the Pangani River. Apparently this was to have become a very strong position had time been allowed for its completion, and here we realised the wisdom of our forced marching. General Smuts in pressing on is giving the enemy little time to rest, and prepare for our on-coming. We have marched 145 miles, from Mbuyuni to Buiko, in the past thirteen days, and, since leaving Kahe, have had to break trail through uninhabited country, most of it standing thorn-bush forest. And, so that one may realise the extreme length of our day, I have been particular in recording the hours at which we started out on those treks. It will be seen that sometimes we trekked all night, sometimes we started at midnight, but most often it was a case of getting up at 2 a.m. or 3 a.m., or 4 a.m. in the cold, chill night, and away soon after.

However, our arrival at Buiko next day marked a pause in operations, for we were destined to remain in that locality for the next eight days, while the German railway was being repaired to this point, and our insufficient supplies were augmented.

The enemy had passed on through Buiko in their flight, and it was unoccupied by either them or civilian inhabitants. It was a small station composed of a few stone-built houses with cactus-fenced compounds, but with an extensive railway siding, and siding sheds. After resting here four days, the battalion crossed the Pangani River, opposite Buiko, by pontoon bridge, and were then employed in cutting a road, through dense bush, back north to the almost completed “German Bridge” at the entrance to “the neck.”

Where the open valley grass—which stretched north and south, following the river’s course—joined with the rugged edge of the bush, we had pitched camp, and it was here that, short of rations, a comrade and I ventured to hunt for meat for the pot.

It was about 4.30 on the second morning in camp. I turned over luxuriously in my blankets, and lay on my back blinking hazily at the overhead stars. It was within that dreamless hour before rising time, when the many disturbances of night on war service had passed away, and given place to peaceful rest and deep, delicious comfort and content. Half consciously I saw that dawn was breaking, and was aware that overnight I had promised to go on a surreptitious game hunt at daylight. What a fool’s promise I thought that now! and I nestled snugly into the blankets for just “five minutes more.”

“Buck! Come on!”

Rudely I was startled to active wakefulness, as the words of Lieutenant Gilham broke into my slumbers in a low voice.

“Right!” I called back as I sat upright. It was full daylight. Gilham was pulling his boots on in his lair under a bush a few yards away. We grinned at each other and dressed rapidly, silently; we knew the value of stealth.

Rations were low. Flour, and half a pound of bully beef, had been yesterday’s issue, and Gilham, a veteran from South Africa, had come to me with the scheme to clear into the bush at daylight on the morrow. It was against orders to shoot, and perhaps against orders to leave the camp, but, being old hunters, and hungry, the old instinct got the better of discipline, and we had agreed to “chance it” in the morning.

All ready! Gilham lit a cigarette—that was in the days when we still had a few—lifted a service rifle, and started off, with a nod to me to come on. Signing to my black boy, Hamisi, I followed out, between the line of sleeping trek-tired soldiers, who lay along the west front of our perimeter. Immediately we were in the dense thorn-bush and wending our way laboriously, carefully, westward through the cruel-fanged jungle of countless cactus needles and grasping hook-thorns. It was the familiar type of African bush—dry, waterless, gravel and sand surface, grown with low wide-branching thorn-trees at fairly open intervals, filled in with a dense undergrowth of smaller shrubs, sisal, cactus, and grasses, until only narrow sand washes, or game paths, remain open, for short intervals, here and there. Through this one wends his way, zigzagging, dodging, stooping, and always on the look-out to move along the line of least resistance.

It is rough going, as rough as one will meet with in many travels. If one who has not experienced it can think of a hard mountain climb, or of a long march at the end of twenty miles, or of stiff canoe-going up-river, one may realise something of the stress of endurance. For the rest—the scratching, patience-trying obstacles—if you would picture the worst of them—the thorn-tree Mgoonga—imagine half a dozen groups of Stewart tackle clutching along your arm or leg or helmet, while another lot threatens to tear your shirt back to rags. When you are hooked, you cannot free yourself by forcing forward; you must draw gingerly back, and extricate each barb with commendable patience; be impatient, and you will instantly be hooked up worse than ever. I will carry memories of Mgoonga as long as I live. But the bush is not all dense, and this morning, after an hour’s travelling, we found more open spaces, along which one could sometimes look to right or left or in front, for fifty yards or so. We were then well out from camp, and, with a cross wind from the south aiding us, we judged we could safely fire our rifles without fear of sound of report reaching back to head-quarters.

In whispers we agreed “all clear,” and the locks of our rifles clicked, as cartridges were slipped into place, ready for action, while the boy dropped fifty yards behind, as we moved ahead in Indian file, silently, alertly, Gilham leading. We were hungry, and we meant to have meat!

We had not gone more than half a mile, when suddenly a single buck jumped from behind a bush, close in, and showed for an instant, in full view, as it bounded behind the cover of the jungle. One breathless instant, and it was gone, untouched. There had been no time to shoot, though we had seen enough to name it a Lesser Koodoo doe, a delicate, graceful thing, near to the size of a red deer, with prominent widespread ears. Eagerly we had realised the valued prize; keenly we realised it had vanished—alarmed, and impossible to follow. In undertone I “swore,” and Gilham muttered “bad luck,” each in mind appraising the venison’s goodly proportions, and hungry friends waiting rations in camp. Regrets were vain. More keen than ever, we moved on again, the actual sight of game whetting our appetite for a kill. But no! the Fates were unkind. At the end of two miles of careful stalking we halted, and had not fired a shot. Spoor in plenty had been encountered, principally the sharp-pointed sand-print of Mpala hoofs or the untidy scraping and burrowing of a family of wart hog. Many were fresh tracks, and promised the momentary appearance of game, but the shadow of the bush held motionless and lifeless, blank cover from which the treasures we sought had travelled at first suspicion of danger’s footfall. Twice we had flashed large flocks of guinea-fowl, magnificent birds and king of spoil for shot-gun in Africa; but, armed with rifles only, we were this day in mind to be impatient with the flutter and disturbance of their cackling, and heavy-winged rise from cover, when we rudely chanced in upon their morning breakfasting. And so, as duty demanded our presence in camp at 9 a.m., we were halted at the turning-point—empty-handed and disconsolate. Gilham wasn’t saying much. He never did when hunting, but one might judge he was mourning his luck, as none too gently he rolled an uncouth cigarette out of notepaper and rough-cut Boer tobacco. While he smoked, we decided to circle up-wind, southward to begin with, and then, when clear of our outbound line, to strike for camp over fresh ground.

We were soon off again. The sun was now up and beginning to make itself felt in the bush. In an hour it would be stifling hot in those enclosed surroundings. We had not gone far—a half-mile or so—and we were crossing some open bush—abreast in open order—when a low whistle from Gilham, on my right, warned me to halt my cautious walk abruptly. He was not in view, but I caught the movement of his rifle rising, and almost instantly the report followed. Fifty yards ahead a buck jumped from behind a bush and stood face on, startled; fearful astonishment and bewilderment apparently making it unable to run for its life. Hurriedly, too hurriedly! I fired—and missed to the left, and off went our quarry bounding through the bush, we following at a run, not certain the animal was unscathed, and hoping it might be wounded. But the buck had vanished, and no sight of blood rewarded an inspection of his tracks. We had missed. Fools we felt, and deserved our self-condemnation—too keen! over-anxious! the certain temperament to make even the old hand miss “a sure thing.”

The buck had attracted my notice. During our fourteen months of patrolling the German-East-British-East frontier I had not seen its kind before. It was a buck like an Mpala antelope, but it stood slightly taller, and was of extremely delicate build, while the neck was noticeably very long and very slender; the horns curved back, as with the buck Mpala, but were more closely set together than with that species. Gilham named it a Gerenuk antelope.

Again we moved on, and by and by drew near to the distance from camp where we dare not fire. Suddenly a shot rang out, again from Gilham, on my right. I could neither see him nor his object as the bush was dense, and I paused anxiously. A moment, and a cheery shout rang out—“All right, come on!” and I hurried over to find my partner proudly surveying a prostrate Gerenuk doe, for, strangely enough, it was again this novel species which Gilham had spotted and dropped with a bullet high in the shoulder. It was a beautiful beast, though a doe, killed by fate of the pot-hunter’s need, slender and delightfully delicate of build, with a coat of close, short, glossy hair, dark chocolate brown, above the central sides, where a distinctive horizontal line clearly separated the darker upper parts from those a shade or two lighter below. Many were our ejaculations of joy over our prize! Here was meat at last!—and venison!—fit reward for our strenuous stalk. Proudly now we would steal in upon our camp comrades and revel in a goodly feed all round. For one day at least bully beef would not plague our palate.

Without loss of time we cut the meat up, loaded the black boy, and, carrying the remainder ourselves, we set off for camp, deciding we were now too close in to shoot further.

Nearing camp, half an hour later, we put up at intervals, singly, numbers of dainty dodging Dik Dik, the smallest African antelope, which lairs and jumps off like a British hare, and which in size it barely exceeds. These little animals are usually sought with shot-guns, and give very tricky shooting. They are a much-prized table delicacy.

Our entrance to camp was a masterpiece of secret movement, and bush-cutting parade found us on duty outwardly severe but inwardly rejoicing over our morning’s outing. And so had we a glimpse of sport in this famous big-game land while we passed on trek, keen on the trail of even bigger game.

On 9th June, the entire column—which had crossed the river from Buiko and had assembled at our bush camp on the previous day—again marched out on trek, and continued down the Pangani. In the late afternoon, the advanced troops at the head of the column engaged rear-guards of the enemy, and heavy fighting for a time ensued before the native village of Mkalamo. Our position then was about opposite Wilhelmstal and Mombo, two of the principal stations of the Usambara Railway.

On entering Mkalamo, next day, it was found to be a village composed of a few wrecked trading stores—burnt down by the enemy—and a large number of grass-built native Shambas. Here an important light trolley-line, from Mombo, crossed the Pangani and passed through the village, and on into the bush where it continues a course to Handeni, which is a town, some thirty miles farther south, on the broad trade road from the mouth of the Pangani into the interior. The fighting took place last evening a short distance north of the village, and the rear-guard action of the enemy was, apparently, solely to hold us off until darkness, for it is reported now that over 2,000 enemy were here yesterday, and that they evacuated the village and neighbourhood overnight. Rumours are persistent that the remainder of the Usambara line down to Tanga is almost completely clear of German forces, and that all enemy are now making for the Central Railway. The length of railway line from Mombo out to Tanga on the east coast is about seventy-five miles. It should greatly assist the forwarding of supplies if the port of Tanga and this section of railway fell into our hands; if it is not already seriously destroyed.

But it soon became evident that General Smuts intended to continue the pursuit south, toward the Central Railway, without waiting for the complete clearing of the remainder of the line.

We remained two days at Mkalamo, holding on while operations on the railway in this neighbourhood progressed. On 12th June we marched some six miles forward to the angle of the Pangani River where it changes direction and flows east to the sea, and there we again halted for a couple of days. Rations have been short for the past two weeks, and transport difficulties are evidently increasing behind. Moreover, most of the bridges on the railway from Moschi have been destroyed, or partly destroyed, by the enemy, so that there is delay in making use of any railway line, until hasty repairs are completed.

Regarding food we are limited at present to flour, and bully beef, and tea, and sugar, no bacon, no jam, no biscuit—and bare flour, without bacon fat or lard to cook it with, is almost a “straw” ration, for flour and water dropped into a dry canteen lid doesn’t make anything digestible or palatable. But if one is hungry it is eaten, and really the men were wonderfully patient over their “dough-nuts,” and such scanty grub, even though they grew lean—for you know the popular old song beginning: “What’s the use of worrying?” which is the never-dying axiom of our ever plucky soldiers. Being much in need of meat now, I went out hunting in the afternoon of both days, but without success. Many tracks of rhinoceros were crossed in this neighbourhood, but small game is apparently very scarce. Some day, in hunting in proximity to the enemy, I expect the game will be Germans instead of buck, but it’s worth that risk of adventure, and if Germans are about in the bush, it’s as well to know it.

15th June.—Réveillé at 4 a.m., and soon after the column marched out. This morning we bid good-bye to the Pangani River, after having followed its course for 135 miles, and headed south in the direction of the far-off Central Railway, and Morogoro—to reach which a great area of wilderness bush would have to be penetrated. Marched to-day over unmade dust-deep tracks, and camped in the bush at night after advancing some sixteen miles. Rations dwindling; flour, tea, and sugar only issued to-day.

The following day we continued onward, and, after completing some twelve miles, camped at 8 p.m., at Gitu, north-west of the considerable station of Handeni, on to which the eastern column was advancing. Rations to-day, ½ lb. bully beef, coffee, and biscuits.

Next day the column continued onward into the south, and during the day emerged from wilderness bush into a country of plentiful small-croft cultivation—the first country of this kind that we have encountered since leaving Moschi. Native huts and mealie patches were on all sides amongst the bush, which is now fairly open and of fertile growth.

Toward noon we crossed the broad, well-made caravan road which comes from the coast station of Pangani, and runs far west into the interior. Soon after crossing this road we climbed into low hill country, and camped at Ssangeni, a native village west of Handeni—some houses of which were now visible, about eight miles distant, at the foot of an isolated, prominent, cone-shaped kopje. To-day’s meagre rations, sugar (no tea), 1 lb. meat, and biscuits.

Sunday, 18th June.—Lay all day in position occupied last night. South African troops went out from the column in the early morning under operation orders. Recent information as to the enemy’s strength estimates that the force opposed to us, in the Handeni neighbourhood, is twelve companies of infantry, two 4·1 naval guns, and fourteen maxim machine-guns.

19th June.—In camp. To-day the news reached us that Handeni had been occupied by General Sheppard’s column, and also that the South Africans operating from our column had engaged the enemy near here yesterday, and inflicted some casualties, but the enemy would not long stand their ground, and fought their familiar bush-covering retreating fight. To-day, from the native habitations, some food was collected by our hungry troops. My orderly obtained some welcome delicacies in the following strange manner: he bartered an old shirt for two chickens, an under-vest for seven eggs, and an old football sweater for six vegetable-marrows. Money held little inducement to the natives here; they were in great need of clothing, and it was apparel they sought. They say that sugar and clothes are finished in the German camps.

Crude, locally minted brass coins and printed paper one-rupee notes were plentiful among the natives, here and elsewhere. Those they have received from the Germans since war began in payment for food collected, by native consent or by force. If the war failed for the German this very doubtful currency would be unredeemable and valueless, and so the ignorant natives were warned that it was poor, if not totally false, this wealth which they held.

On the 20th and 21st of June we remained at Ssangeni. In the evening of the 20th advanced South African troops engaged the enemy ahead, and heavy conflict ensued, and lasted some two or three hours. Later, one of the returned wounded reported that the South African casualties were 15 killed and 75 wounded, and that the enemy had had some 200 casualties, but none of this information was authentic, though it was sufficient to show that a sharp encounter had taken place.

Next day, the 22nd of June, the column accomplished a long march forward, trekking on from 9 a.m. until 8 p.m., with but one hour halt, and camped, at the end of the day, at the native village of Kangata some twenty-five miles ahead of our last camp. It was a long, hot, trying day, and particularly wearisome when sheer exhaustion laid hold of the heavily burdened soldiers toward the evening of the day. On the march, the column passed through Ssonjo about noon, having travelled easterly across country on a native bush-path until the Handeni-Ssonjo road had been intersected. Our course thenceforth had been due south. The retreating enemy, falling back from Handeni, held up our advance by occasional sharp short-lived rear-guard actions—bursts of firing on the advance guard—and the country, which was bush-grown on either side of the narrow native road, was well suited to their hide, and strike, and run away manœuvres.

A number of oxen and horses were left dead on the roadside to-day. No “feed” ration is available for issue to transport animals at present, and this unfortunate state of affairs is telling heavily on the live-stock. Our own rations have been somewhat better during the last three days.

On the 23rd of June rations of meat and flour were cooked before the column marched at 4 a.m. We were in for a long trek, and were told to expect a fight at the end of it. Our objective was the bridge-head, and the hills commanding it, where the bush-road crossed the Lukigura River, and where the enemy had dug in. The eastern column was, in conjunction, to advance down the narrow native road, which runs through the bush from Handeni to Makindu at the northern end of the populated Nguru Mountains, while we were to circle away wide to the west and attack at the heart of the hill position. All night we trekked, excepting for one halt at midnight. It was slow, monotonous work for this column, which must have stretched to a sinuous length of miles; for it was necessary, on account of the density of bush and jungle growth, to feel the way along in single file, on a narrow native bush-path over which a native guide was leading us to our goal. Moving, then halting till the kink in the line straightened out, then on again, so dragged the night hours wearily on; and progress was made, though we travelled as sheep in a strange defile, led we knew not where. After midnight bitter cold set in and chilled our scanty shirt-clad bodies, and when dawn broke the red-hot sun was for once welcomed in Africa, as it warmed us to life again. But still, when the day dawned, the trekking column held onwards, and all through the day we marched, until 4.30 p.m.—and then to battle. I have never seen men more utterly tired and woebegone than our men at the time of their approach on Lukigura River. They had been marching twenty-four and a half hours, kit-laden and without substantial food; and yet, when they went into battle all fatigue was forgotten, or they were careless of further physical trial; and they fought like madmen—and as heroes.

It was for us a short, hot engagement, and the height and the village of Kwa-Direma were stormed at the point of the bayonet, and in our hands ere the fall of dusk. It transpired that the enemy had confined all their attention to the bush-road from Handeni, down which the eastern column was advancing, and they were taken completely by surprise when our attack pounced on them from the west, and inflicted complete defeat and heavy loss. Meantime the eastern column attacked below, on the road in the bush, east of Kwa-Direma, and carried the bridge-head over the Lukigura River, inflicting further punishment on the beaten enemy.

During the early part of the night our new positions on the hill-crest were shelled by the enemy’s naval guns. A few casualties resulted, but most of the shells were high and went over the hill to burst in the vacant bush below.

The next few days were spent in camp at Kwa-Direma. Here I made some sketches of the position and neighbourhood for G.H.Q., and spent some time in the bush, much of which was breast-high in tangled undergrowth and rank grass, but which nevertheless showed traces of where the enemy had scattered and hidden at the time of our attack.

Here, one morning, my porters captured a small antelope—Harvey’s Duiker, ♀—even at the door of my native-erected grass hut, where it had rushed in fear and bewilderment on being disturbed near by.

Here, also, I had some practice with a 1-in. Krupp gun which we had captured in the late engagement. Though completely out of date, it was a vicious and accurate little piece, and, as long as the captured ammunition lasts, it has been decided to have it added for service to the Machine-gun Section of which I am in charge. A day later, too, I took part in some tests of armoured-car armour plate, at the request of Major Sir John Willoughby. The armour plate withstood the blow of the Krupp gun shell at 100 yards range, and was merely dented. We then tested the German made-up iron-plate shield on the Krupp gun. Our service rifle failed to penetrate the plate, but a ·245 high-velocity sporting rifle of Sir John Willoughby’s put a neat hole clean through it.

Sunday, 2nd July.—And for once, as it rarely is on service, it has been a quiet day, and like a Christian “day of rest.” And being a Sunday it recalls our homes, from which we are longing very much for news. Mails reach us at very long intervals of a month or more, and for weeks we have been hoping for home news. The column has lain a week at Kwa-Direma, and we are said to be waiting here until supplies come up in quantity. We have had no full ration since getting here, and we are all feeling the effect of the shortage. From two natives, whom I persuaded two days ago to go to their home in the hills to forage for food for me, I have to-day purchased, in exchange for old clothing, some mealie-meal flour and thirteen fowls. Great the rejoicing, for this is, in these bad days, a windfall for myself and some of the men. One hen, a white-plumaged one, I kept a few days, and by then it had proved so friendly and tame that I decided to spare its life and keep it as a pet. Thereafter, here and on trek, it caused much amusement and comment. It lived with me a few months before it was stolen by someone whose hunger overcame his scruples, and each day, whether on trek or in camp, it laid me an egg. Very peculiarly this hen learned to come to roost wherever I lay, and, more curious still, it was never at a loss as to my whereabouts when released among the feet of hurrying soldiers in strange surroundings at the end of a trek. On trek she was generally tied down in a horse-bucket, and carried by my native servant.

The next few days passed uneventfully, except that much time was given over, on my part, to increasing the proficiency of the machine-gunners and to the training of mules, both old and new, to complete familiarity with their saddles and loads. Once during those days the camp was sniped at night, but in the darkness no damage was done.

On 7th July we loaded up and marched out south-west, on the bush-road over the Lukigura River. In the afternoon Makindu, which had already been occupied by General Sheppard’s column, was reached, and there we camped. Immediately on camping we were shelled by the enemy for about an hour, but little damage was done.

Makindu, this village on the Msiha River, which we had reached and where we were destined to stay for a time, is still some seventy-five miles north of our objective—Morogoro, and the Central Railway. But a great trek has been accomplished, for we are now 260 miles from Mbuyuni, our starting-point on the frontier. Needless to say this exceedingly long line of communication has made the transport of supplies a tremendous undertaking, therefore it was not unreasonable that, for the next month, we lay at Makindu while transport difficulties were mastered and clearly organised, and the shorter line, in from Tanga by rail, was opened and brought to our assistance.

This long pause, too, was beneficial to the overstrained troops. Speaking of our own battalion, they were very far through in physique at the time we reached Makindu, and in numerical strength they were, all told, under 200 strong. True, they were “the flower of the flock” in endurance, this remnant of the 1,200 which sailed from England, but even they were withered, and withering, with long fight, on short commons, against unhealthy soul-exhausting climate. Nine officers remain who have gone through all since the beginning, including the doctor, the O.C., and the second-in-command.

At Makindu we had our first prolonged experience of shell-fire, for throughout our occupation of this place we were continually shelled by the enemy’s naval guns, and sometimes suffered considerable loss. The enemy’s fire was throughout particularly accurate, as if the camp were directly under observation from some undetected look-out in the high ranges of the Nguru Mountains, on our south-west—which, at some points, had an extreme elevation of some 6,100 feet. It was here seen that the native Africans were very nervous and fearful of shell-fire, and their raw instincts with difficulty stood the strain. It is a trying thing for anyone to wait idly inactive for a shell’s vicious death-dealing on-coming, but it is much more trying to the half-wild senses of a black man than to a white man. We had no artillery with a range sufficient to reach the enemy’s naval guns, so that the only retaliation on our part was accomplished by dropping bombs from our aeroplanes. As soon as the enemy ceased firing, invariably our ’planes went up, and, when over the German positions—cunningly though they were concealed in the bush—bombs were dropped on every likely target. It became amusing when the intention of the opposite foe became clear, this persistent blow for blow “strafe” between the enemy guns and our aircraft.

At Makindu two delayed mails were received, and great was the rejoicing; even though some of the letters were six months old.

It was at Makindu, too, that, one evening, my pet white hen, which had been with me since the fight at Lukigura River, killed a small snake 15 inches long. This I had never seen done before by domestic fowl. She was very timid and wary in pecking at the snake until very sure she had stricken it to death, whereafter, with much exertion, she swallowed it whole as if it were a worm. She is indeed a funny old hen. Still she never gets lost amongst all the confusion of camp life, and each night she comes home, often after roaming far, to roost within a yard or two of me.

While at Makindu I did some reconnaissance and sketching for G.H.Q., and saw much of the bush country beyond the camp. The following notes of one such reconnaissance will serve to give an idea of its nature and the type of country.

Such was a manner of unravelling the mystery of the important and unknown details of the map in this ever new and strange country.

5th August, 1916.—At 3.30 a.m. the camp was astir—to-day we were to march, to-day we were again to begin active operations. After great overnight operations, this morning we trekked out from Makindu on the road back to Kwa-Direma, for it transpired that we were, as Divisional Reserve, to take part in an encircling right flank movement through the Nguru Mountains between the main block of hills and the Kanga-Kilindi range, on the eastern side of which the enemy stronghold sheltered. Arriving at Kwa-Direma about midday, we found a large concentration of forces there composing General Hannyngton’s Brigade and part of the Divisional Reserve. Previous to our arrival mounted South African troops under General Brits had already left to commence the advance through the hills.

The following two days I have no wish to recall, but that they are necessary to this narrative. We began, and laboured incessantly to advance our column of troops and transport into hill country that proved to be quite impassable, for any but unburdened man or beast, owing to its succession of deep valley bottoms and steep untracked hills. But nevertheless we laboured on for two days, on such strenuous work as cutting roads through forest, laying corduroy logging over swamp marsh, and, at the hills, inspanning two to three complete teams of mules or oxen to drag each wagon with excessive effort up the stupendous grades. At the end of the second day, after we had in all covered some eight to ten miles, the project was abandoned, and we received orders to return the way we had come.