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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

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.