Routine in the early days of war, in the camps on the frontier of British East Africa in 1915, was like unto a watch-dog’s duties.

The Uganda Railway, running parallel to the boundary from Mombasa, on the East Coast, to Kisumu, on Lake Victoria Nyanza, had to be vigorously protected from raiding parties; and a force larger than our own had to be held at bay until a sufficient army could be sent out to take the field and the offensive.

Small encampments, manned with a handful of daring, miscellaneous soldiers, had sprung into being all along the frontier.

Every station along the boundary was alert and aware of the presence of enemy; and frequent were the alarms and skirmishes.

Amongst thorn “bush,” in dreary landscape of consistent sameness, those stations were everywhere hidden—a mere gathering of small tents, within limited enclosures built up of sharp-spiked, tangled, thorn-tree branches. These enclosures were called “bomas,” and were, against an enemy surprise, as complete a protection as barbed wire. Water, always the chief concern of existence in Africa, was usually in the neighbourhood of those encampments. Sometimes, if the camp was a main station, water was brought by pipe line from the hills; but most often, the supply for a small camp was that of the adjacent muddy “water hole.” They were those stagnant pools of water so often spoken of by travellers who have written of interior Africa and know her thirst. Those pools of water—a single pool in a swampy bed or in a barren river bottom—are of uncertain quality and of uncertain supply. It was usual to place a guard over such scanty supply, and order a very bare ration to be served to each individual each day.

Patrols were the chief concern of those bush encampments. They were unceasingly active, daily, nightly, moving out into the vague, half-unmapped country, to cover many miles in quest of enemy patrols or raiding parties.

Those patrols seldom covered less than ten miles a day, more often twenty miles; while occasionally long distances were covered that necessitated a party being out from three to six days.

In this manner the frontier was kept fairly clear of enemy; especially in the neighbourhood of the camps. The grass was tall, and the bush, in places, very heavy, so that ambush and surprise encounters were not infrequent. On those occasions casualties were, sometimes, on both sides heavy; but usually it was the side which laid the ambush which scored most heavily. To illustrate this: on one occasion, on the 4th of September, 1915, at Maktau, a party of our M.I. was ambushed and rather badly cut up by the enemy. The casualties in killed were eleven Europeans and three Indians. During this encounter a young British officer named Dartnell won the V.C. for refusing to surrender to the enemy, and fighting right out to a finish against great odds. Ten days later this same enemy company was ambushed by our forces and completely routed, leaving thirty dead Askaris and one German officer on the battle-ground.

On the whole it was this sort of ding-dong fighting all along, with the British forces holding the stronger hand. Patrols were constantly expectant of an engagement of some description, and many became very expert bushmen as months of this type of fighting went on.

On the 19th June, 1915, four hundred of our unit found themselves detraining at Kisumu, on Lake Victoria Nyanza, after a long train journey which had lasted one day and one night. On the low shore of the lake edge they camped, near to the wharf and half-roofed freight sheds, while other detachments came in on the railway and joined the force. During the day, there were concentrated here, beside us, detachments of 29th Punjabis, King’s African Rifles, Loyal North Lancashires; and 28th Mountain Battery, with their array of fine looking Sepoys, and sturdy, well-groomed, well-fed mules.

By noon on the following day, which was a Sunday, everyone had been packed on to the small lake steamship craft which lay at the wharf in readiness, and the expedition sailed thenceforth, out through the Kavirondo Gulf into the great lake.

The ships had been filled to their utmost capacity, above deck and below, and it was a motley crowd that occupied every yard of deck space, while pack-mules and store cattle stood roped to the ship’s rails on the upper deck. Forward, each vessel had a gun mounted, and a space roped off and cleared for action.

Thus we sailed from Kisumu to raid the town of Bukoba on the 22nd and 23rd June; a prosperous trade town within the German colony, on the south-west shores of the lake, which was the base of enemy activities against the Uganda Frontier in the vicinity of the Kagera River, and which contained a powerful wireless plant, by which the enemy were able to obtain, and send, important communications.

All night, and all the next day, we sailed the great lake, Victoria Nyanza, and we had been some thirty hours on board when, at sundown on the second day, we drew near to the enemy’s territory and slowed down, awaiting the fall of darkness.

It was thought to effect a night landing and make a surprise attack on the town, and plans were all prepared for this. In this connection three privates were voluntarily selected for a novel undertaking: it was arranged that an Australian bushman, a Canadian from the Yukon, and self (I was then a private) were to go ahead at landing and try to overpower, and kill if necessary, a certain sentry whose post was known to our command. But all plans were changed in the end, for, about midnight, when our lightless phantom ships were drawing in to Bukoba, wakeful watchers on a high island, that lay out in the bay before the town, detected our approach in the light of the half-full moon, and five great rockets shot in warning into the sky. The alarm was out! Soldiers in the town would be rushing to arms and our landing on the beach would now be in the face of enemy waiting to receive us. Thus, plans were changed, and the ships drew away from shore, beyond the vision of the enemy, and stood to, waiting for dawn.

When dawn approached we again moved toward land. A force was to threaten a landing away south of the town, while the main forces drew in behind a long promontory north of Bukoba Bay.

Close on dawn our ship dropped anchor and boats were lowered; and, one by one, they were filled with troops, and left the ship’s side for shore; while the ship trembled from stem to stern beneath the shock of her gun-fire, which was now rapidly shelling the heights before us, and the hidden positions beyond. Beneath the steep hill-face of the promontory each boat ran aground on the beach, and the troops scrambled overboard and waded ashore.

It was breaking daylight when we began filing up the steep mountain-side, which was cliff-like in places, and the climb to the top proved a stiff one, of close on a mile in distance, and very breathless were we when the summit was reached, while we judged it our great good fortune that this awkward ground had been covered unopposed by enemy. Advancing across the summit, south toward Bukoba, some resistance was encountered there in the banana plantations and forest, but the real fighting did not begin until we reached the southern slopes and looked out on the town of Bukoba, some two miles distant, situated on low land that swept back from the shores of the lake to the foot of the hills, and over the intervening bouldered, rocky hill country, and on to the commanding heights, above the town, on the west and south. It was then that serious fighting began, and all day—while the ships shelled from the lake—we fought in attack against the enemy, who, to begin with, held out amongst the rocks and clumps of trees in the broken hills before us, and who, latterly, defended the commanding hills north-west of the town.

It was real guerilla warfare. From rock to rock one could see men dodge, while puffs of smoke puffed in and out from behind scores of rocks, and from many a tree-clump bottom. The enemy were here using the old ·450 rifle and black powder and lead bullets, hence the prominence of the smoke-puffs. On the whole front all was visible, even the enemy’s single piece of artillery, which was plainly seen in position by the river-side in the low flat ground north of the town, and which the Mountain Battery guns in a short time knocked out of action, before turning their attention to the enemy machine-guns, which were not so easy to deal with.

In the afternoon we worked down the last of the hill-slopes under constant fire of our foes, and, toward evening, gathering our tired limbs under us, a charge was ordered. Across an open meadow we doubled, cheering lustily; through swamp and river, almost neck-high in water, and, finally, up the hill-side opposite, and on to the lower hill-top of the enemy’s coveted position commanding the town; there to lie, panting breathlessly, picking off the fleeing enemy that we could see dodging among the rocks in endeavour to reach the higher hill, across a ravine and to the west of us.

Meantime the Loyal North Lancashires, who had made a wide flank movement, were advancing in on the higher hill from the west; and ere darkness set in we were in full possession of the chief positions.

Had there been more daylight, it is possible that we should have taken the town this day, for the enemy were on the run; but darkness overtook us, and night gave the enemy opportunity to reorganise.

We camped for the night on the hill, chilled, and blanketless, and foodless; for no supplies followed us as it was a short undertaking. In the early part of the night, the force which had made a demonstration to the south of the town were landed on the beach near to us, and joined our force.

At daylight a fighting line was formed across the flats, from the hills to the lake; and an advance began toward the town in face of steady rifle and machine-gun fire. The river we had crossed yesterday had swung southward and ran parallel with the lake, and here again proved an obstacle, and many of us got thoroughly wet crossing and recrossing it. Also, in the morning, in the heat of the early fighting, a thunderstorm burst and heavy rains fell, while we lay in the grass drenched to the skin for an hour or two, and rifle locks choked with sand and moisture. For a time firing ceased on both sides; to resume again as it cleared. Bit by bit, we pushed on across the flat, to be held up for a time before the entrance to the town; and then, breaking the opposition down, to enter the town without further resistance on the heels of the fleeing foe.

But there we did not stop, for our unit passed on through the town—which had a beautiful broad main road parallel to the lake front, and many fine Colonial residences within flower-decked, shaded grounds—and occupied the high hill-summit on the south, while, in the town, the great power-house containing the wireless plant, and the fort, and all ammunition and stores, were blown up and destroyed by our engineers.

Late in the afternoon we evacuated the hills and came down through banana plantations on to the road and into the town; there to witness the impressive burial of our fallen comrades near to the central square.

At sundown re-embarkation commenced, and at daylight the following day the ships drew out from Bukoba pier, and lay to, waiting until the outlying pickets were gathered in. When they put out from shore and were taken aboard, we steamed away northward to get back within our frontier, while most men lay down anywhere and slept, for there had been little rest since we had landed three days ago.

On the 26th June we were again in Kisumu, and were given a joyous reception by the natives, who showed extraordinary interest in the affair.

Three days later we were back in camp—back to the bush, and the routine of frontier patrols.

To give some little idea of the ordinary days of life in a frontier encampment the following notes may serve:

Maktau, 20th Aug., 1915.

Fortifying camp, taken over yesterday. All day on trench construction. Gangs of our fellows working well and cheerfully. Hearty jokes among themselves constantly brace them against their trying labours in the excessive heat.

Patrol attacked near camp this morning by enemy party trying to mine the railway. One private killed, three wounded. The enemy scattered and cleared off as soon as the first surprise shots were over. They attacked from hiding cover in the bush, whence they had viewed the approach of our patrol down the bare straight line of the single-track railway.

Maktau, 21st Aug., 1915.

On trench work all day, same as yesterday. Dust-begrimed and filthy. Hope for opportunity to wash and change to-morrow.

Last night an Indian sentry was shot by enemy who crept up to the camp entrance in the darkness.

Maktau, 22nd Aug., Sunday.

Trench work in early morning and again in forenoon; then “knocked off” all hands for Sunday relaxation.

Early this morning enemy again on Voi railway near here. This time they succeeded in laying mines which blew up the line and derailed an incoming train. Enemy got clear away.

Maktau, 23rd Aug., 1915.

Railway line repaired and open to traffic this morning.

On outpost last night on kopje below Signal Hill. Nothing untoward occurred, though this picket had been twice attacked lately. Strong S.W. Monsoon blowing: bitterly cold for sentries on windward front of kopje. Damp mist driving over the level bush-land below us, obscuring everything in the early morning.

Silent dawn, except for the strident cry of guinea-fowl, spur-fowl, and hornbills; and the lesser “cheepings” of awakening songbirds that mouse-like stirred amongst the surrounding foliage.

Picket relieved at 9 a.m. It was dark at 6.15 p.m. and day dawned at 5.30 a.m. Sunrise three-quarters of an hour later.

Maktau, 28th Aug., 1915.

Out on patrol all day over country west of camp. Party, ten whites and two natives. Uneventful day—no enemy sighted or tracked.

Three rhinoceros encountered at close quarters; one being a very large one with splendid forehead horns. All were allowed to go their way unmolested, since they showed no inclination to charge, and pleasure shooting was not permissible in enemy country.

Maktau, 3rd Sept., 1915.

Out on reconnaissance, to position enemy holding about eight miles west of our camp. Moving quietly through bush—our party two whites and two porters.

On outward journey ran across a rhinoceros, who charged on hearing stick break underfoot; but he stopped about ten yards short, when he then got our wind, and cleared off rapidly with a quick turn and snort, apparently afraid of us. Self and companion, at the sound of the rushing crash of the charge, had backed behind stoutish trees, with rifles ready, but the natives, in an incredibly short moment, had squirmed frantically into the bushes overhead. They were fully frightened, poor wretches—but they were low-caste porters.

Observations were made of enemy camp while lying close to position in evening and early part of night. Later, slept under a tree in the bush. Night bitterly cold; dozed intermittently, but keeping a wakeful uneasy eye for the most part. Idly watching the stars when awake. The Southern Cross set about 9.30 p.m. and the pointers about midnight.

Saw many eland on return journey, beautiful beasts. In shape and solid form they are at a distance like Jersey cattle in an English park. Also saw one lion, three jackals, some herds of Grant’s gazelle, and about a dozen mongoose.

On reaching camp heard of M.I. engagement, already mentioned, from which our men had just returned. On our travels we had almost been over the ground on which the engagement took place, yet in the maze of bush and tall grass we had seen nothing. It is very difficult, for those who have not seen the country, to conceive how terribly possible secretive work is in this virgin bush-land, where vegetation grows luxuriant and rank in vast uninhabited areas. It is not the enemy in themselves that are the difficult foe to conquer; it is the bush that hampers everything, and hides almost all of the evil planned against us. The unpleasant game, though it is a game on a much larger scale, is like hunting a snake in the long grass. And who was ever sure of trapping a snake unless he was come upon unawares, and a complete ring formed around his chosen cover? Even then, notwithstanding the great care with which the cordon may close in, the snake may escape through an unguarded yard of grass, just as a patrol, or an army, if it has sharp eyes everywhere, may escape, under cover of the screening bush, through the narrowest of openings and be gone and hopelessly lost in a single night.

Maktau, 1st Oct., 1915.

To-day an aeroplane made an ascent from camp. This is the first flight made here, and the African natives were spell-bound in amazement at sight of the wonderful machine and its graceful flying. At once they termed it “Ndege” (the Swahili for “bird”), and thereafter they always called aeroplanes by that name.

’Planes should prove of immense value to us out here now that they have been landed in the country. The Germans have no machines, and are very unlikely to succeed in securing any, since they are isolated from the outer world and the open seas.

Tieta Hills, 26th Dec., 1915.

After holding the ranks of private, lance-corporal, corporal, and lance-sergeant, it has been my fortune to receive my commission. I leave the ranks with regret, for it has, on the whole, been a gay, care-free, rough-and-tumble experience, and one which teaches that among all types “a man’s a man for a’ that,” and that there are few who have not their finer feelings beneath any kind of veneer.

At 9.30 p.m. moved out to watch railway, at a point five miles from camp, hoping to catch mine-layers. Dark night; starlit sky, but no moon. Sentries on outskirts of camp spoken to, and passed. Party wearing moccasins, boots on hard road or in dry bush very noisy. Alert to catch the slightest sound, hearing being more important than sight in the darkness.

About 11 p.m. held up by rhinoceros moving about on left of road, breaking undergrowth and branches close ahead. Could not see whether he meant to charge or not, and there was a moment’s suspense on that account, but eventually he moved off quietly. Later, at first railway crossing over road, below a great dark mango tree on the river-side, the leading scout caught a glint of the small, red glow of a dying fire. We halted and waited, but no sound was audible, though a man’s breathing could have almost been heard in the calm stillness. On venturing forward, a deserted fire, almost out, was found. Whoever lit it had used it and gone, but they had left a mark that would arouse suspicion. Such signs of the enemy’s presence were constantly being found. The moon rose at 10.30. Everything clear then, and our forms, moving stealthily along at wide intervals, showed dark on the dust-white road. Reached point on road overlooking railway about midnight and lay down in bush, each of the four comprising the party in turn keeping watch to detect any movement of enemy.

Night passed quietly, stirred only by African sounds. Among the high trees on the river-bank, beyond the railway, monkeys yelled occasionally and snapped off dry branches as they swung from limb to limb. A solitary owl hoo-hooed away out in the distant darkness, and once or twice the weird clatter-ratchet of a hornbill, wakeful in the moonlight, like a barndoor fowl, broke the stillness.

Sometimes, too, an animal of prey would betray its presence and its prowling: the deep blood-curdling howl of the hyena and the dog-like bark of the jackal at times awoke the silence, for one or two brief moments, ere, phantom-like, they were swallowed in the dark, fathomless pit of night, and lost on their onward trail.

At daybreak, white morning mists came down over the bush-land and obscured everything; soon they rose again and cleared.

Back from the roadside, in the bush, we made a small fire and warmed and cheered ourselves with a hot cup of tea.

Later we returned pleasantly to camp, having joined in with the railway patrol, which came out along the line at daybreak some fifty strong.

Namanga, 27th Feb., 1916.

A small reconnaissance patrol climbed the densely bush-forested slope of Ol Doinyo Orok mountain to-day. Mountain-sides overcrowded with trees, cactus, and undergrowth, in tropical uncultivated confusion. Contrary to the usual in country of this nature, no roller-like game paths of the ponderous rhinoceros could be found breaking a way to the higher ground. The ascent was therefore begun up a small river-course, in a delightfully picturesque ravine down which trickled and murmured a stream of running water. Progress was made slowly up this water-course, for the way was continually obstructed by huge granite boulders, and cliff-like falls which were surmounted only by the aid of a rope. By stiff climbing we completed about half the ascent, and were then confronted with impassable cliffs over which scanty water trickled. The patrol then branched off the course of the stream, and attempted to find easier passage through the forest above the ravine on the right. This forest, however, proved desperately difficult to penetrate, compelling us to continual stooping, and forcing of way, through cruel barriers of jagged, tearing thorn. Here, too, the ascent was very steep, and, at times, detours had to be made to avoid an unclimbable cliff face. Defeat was unpalatable; otherwise we must early on have given up the undertaking. As it was, we stuck grimly to our task, and finally reached the summit at 4.30 p.m.

On our ascent on the east bank of the river, a cave had been found which, by reason of newly cut sticks and an old fire, had evidently been used by enemy scouts, at the time of our advance into this area, a few days previously. Otherwise, the mountain held no signs of recent occupation.

After resting a short time, and exploring the plateau on the summit, the descent was commenced. All might have gone well, but darkness came down before we were half-way out of the bush, and then our troubles really began. It was impossible to see more than a yard before one, and thorn and boulders and pitfalls played havoc with faces and limbs, as downward we clambered laboriously in the inky darkness. It was, at one time, proposed, in despair, to give up, and to camp where we were without blankets, but at that time some one made the inspired suggestion to use lighted faggots. This idea was carried into force, and by the aid of their uncertain light we were able to grapple with, and partly avoid, the barriers of cruel fanged bush, and at last managed to extricate ourselves from the deep forest of shapeless, sightless jungle. But not until the entire patrol was torn and bleeding and sore, and completely, almost hopelessly, tired out. They were sadder and wiser men who wearily dragged into camp long after midnight, avowing everlasting denunciation on African jungle.

Nevertheless expeditions of this kind were commonplace enough to scouts who endeavoured to understand almost every landmark on our border that might harbour the enemy. Sometimes they were fruitless expeditions, sometimes they were the means of obtaining valuable information.

For the greater part of the year those frontier operations were carried on in the excessively hot, unchangeable climate of tropical Africa. Through the intensive heat of the piercing overhead sun, the routine work went on day after day, and month after month. Not until December was there change, and then there was a period of heavy torrential rains. But ere the month was out they had ceased again, and the rich green foliage of the acacias, which had sprung in a day to life, had begun to fade and lose their freshness; so soon does the blazing sun dry up the abundant rainfall, and scorch the very earth.

Locusts, and their following of storks, are heralds of the Rains, and near to that season great clouds of them were seen. Remarkable swarms of locusts were witnessed on the 25th November and 5th December, 1915, and again on 21st February, 1916. Great clouds of them, darkening the very sky in their tens of millions, drifted down wind slowly, in a south-westerly direction, over camp on those dates; and above them, on the last occasion, high in the sky, followed a very large flight of black and white storks, sailing along, with the ease of a floating feather, with wing-still, wind-poised motion, apparently planing on the banking of the air; and now and then checking their onward flight, to swing slowly and gracefully in a circle, as if to hesitate and examine the ground far underneath them.

At the time of the Rains, too, fresh snow fell on Mount Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain in Africa, with the elevation of over 19,700 feet. In 1915 the first fresh snowfall was on 25th November, and on the morning of that day a new white coat of snow mantled the peaks of Kibo and Mawensi, and well down their slopes.

A native once told me that if he could climb to the far-off glistening snows, he would find rupees. And he seemed seriously to believe that the snows, which glinted silver-like in the sun, were unattainable wealth.

On the frontier, when not scouting, or on patrol, or on picket, it sometimes fell to our lot to have a day in camp.

In camp, “Réveillé” was at 5.30 a.m.—just about daybreak. The able men then dressed, and, outside their tents, shook out their dust and insect-ridden blankets, in which they had slept on the bare hard ground. The lazy, and the seedy, and the really sick men, slept on fitfully until the last possible moment before the “Fall In,” at 6.30 a.m.; then reluctantly to turn out in cheerless spirit.

On early morning parade “the roll” was first called. The sick were then excused from duty, and the remainder marched off with shovels and picks and axes to dig trenches and construct overhead shell-shelters, wherever the fortifications of our encampment required strengthening.

Such mornings passed quickly, and work went ahead, for, in the cool of the rising day, the labours were not unpleasant. Most men made light of their morning’s work, and enjoyed getting up a keen healthy appetite ere the “Fall Out” for 8 o’clock breakfast.

Breakfast consisted generally of a measured ration of bread, cheese, and tea: sometimes bacon replaced the cheese, sometimes jam.

The second morning parade fell in at 9 a.m., and again the men in camp were sent on to the fortifications. But now work was carried on in the heat of the tropic sun, for a soldier’s duties are at any hour of the day or night, and in any weather, in any hemisphere. They laboured on in the heat, swearing and joking (I think a soldier will joke, aye, even in H—) and perspiring, and with faces and clothes smothered in the fine red lava sand, which was raised by the labouring picks and shovels, or which incessantly wafted down-wind in gusts off the bare compound of the encampment. But, nevertheless, the work went forward, for it had to go, and defences became duly more and more impregnable. About noon the working party fell out for lunch, which consisted of a ration of bread, jam, and tea.

Lunch over, the men rested until 4.30 p.m. Some fitfully slept under stifling hot canvas, others washed clothes down by the trough, or bathed themselves with water from a bucket, standing naked in the open; while still others gambled, mildly, over halfpenny nap and threepenny bridge.

The afternoon parade fell in at 4.30 p.m. and worked as before on trenches for another hour and a half. It was then time to “Fall Out” for dinner.

Dinner consisted always of badly cooked stew, an unchanging dish which became deadly monotonous, and which, in time, many men could not touch, their palate revolted so strongly against the unseasoned, uninviting mixture.

I have particularly mentioned food, because, even when rations were full—and they were often not—our soldiers were nearly always troubled with that subject throughout the East Africa Campaign. It is wonderful what men, living outdoors, can subsist on, but, at the same time, I will never believe that the cut-and-dry army ration, as served in Africa, is sufficient for men carrying on arduous operations in an intensely tropical climate. All units experienced a tremendous amount of sickness, and I am certain, in my own mind—and many others agree with me—that at least half of the sickness was caused, directly or indirectly, from lack of full and proper nourishment for a prolonged period. Transport difficulties, and the greater wars in Europe, no doubt had a strong guiding influence with the commissariat; and for such, allowances must be made. I have but little inclination to raise the subject now, for the roughness of war is always to be expected and borne, but for the future it is well to write down the harsh experiences of the past so that others, in like undertakings, may gain an insight into such things, and prepare for them, or seek to obtain a reconstruction. Food was a big question in Africa, and, if such a campaign should be called for again in any far-off country, administrators would do well to give serious thought to a serious subject that might well in the end save the nation both life and expenditure.

On the frontier, men had very few means of adding to their rations. Parcels from home, in many cases, found them most of the luxuries they ever enjoyed. Again, at some places a venturous Goanese trader set up small wood-framed shack-stores, and dispensed to the troops a few odds and ends in very limited quantities. The chief luxuries (?) which the men sought I give below, and a comparison in African and English prices:

On those groceries, or such-like, every penny of a man’s pay was often spent the day he received it. Whenever the trader received a fresh lot of goods the news would fly about camp, and, as soon as night-fall came and liberated the soldiers from duty, he would be besieged by toil-worn troops hungry for luxuries, and speedily everything in demand would be sold out.

In one other way was it sometimes possible to obtain a change of diet: that was by game shooting. A good many buck, wart-hog, guinea-fowl, and partridges found their way into camp at one time or other, and furnished a few fortunate ones with a very welcome addition to the routine fare.

One of the first hunting outings which I experienced was with Capt. W., Lieut. F. C. Selous, and the “Doc.,” when I accompanied them on a trek to make a sketch of certain country they were going into. We were at this time camped in the open upland bush near Kajiado. Mounted on mules we had travelled overnight to a selected camp. Selous—fine sportsman that he was—was as keen as ever on a hunt, and the party were merry as sand-boys.

Next morning all were astir at daylight. Before breakfast some spur-fowl were shot close to the near-by water-hole, and fried for the meal. They were delicious eating. After breakfast the mules were saddled and mounted, and we rode onward. In the forenoon we sighted one lion—which escaped under cover of a thickly bushed valley—two wart-hog, three waterbuck, a few hartebeeste and mpala, and many giraffe. Selous had an unsuccessful shot at an mpala, but, otherwise, the game were allowed to go unmolested, as all were wild and no exceptionally good heads were singled out. We made the noon halt in rolling, somewhat open bush country and haltered the mules, to picket them there. After lunching the party went in divergent directions on foot. Capt. W. and self proceeded to the highest hill-crest in the neighbourhood, and I there settled for the afternoon to pencil a panoramic sketch of the country before me. Capt. W. then left me. Later I learned he had, on his return tramp to camp, shot a hartebeeste for meat. But game proved very wary. Selous and the “Doc.” returned without securing a single head, though they had seen mpala, eland, giraffe, and a rhinoceros. Masai natives were grazing many cattle in this area at the time of our visit, and the game were evidently kept moving and wild by constant disturbance of the cattle and their cattle-herds. At any rate, as far as game heads, and meat, were concerned, it was not a successful outing. But it was all very enjoyable and a holiday from soldiering. To me it was a memorable outing because it recalls to mind one of my first meetings with Selous. It was the first of many meetings, for, in after days, we joined in many a successful hunt, the old hunter and the young attracted together by a mutual enthusiasm for Nature and the Open Road.

These, above, are a few notebook entries. It will be seen that a soldier’s life in 1915 was not without variety and adventure in a theatre of war of which the outer world, in those days, heard very little. Yet it was the beginning of a great undertaking which, in its turn, has been overshadowed, almost overlooked, on account of the gigantic world-war raging in Europe, and resounding on England’s doorstep.

Towards the end of 1915 rumours were prevalent that strong South African forces were to arrive in the country.

About the same time the Germans, who apparently had information of our movements, increased their activities on the border from Voi to Kilindini. Perhaps their biggest effort at interference was when a strong force of Germans occupied the prominent hill position of Kasigau and threatened the Uganda Railway from the S.E. of Voi. Obviously, if they could break on to our only up-country railway and line of communication, at such a time, they had much to gain. However, in this they were forestalled. Forces were sent to oppose them in their mountain stronghold, on the heels of their arrival, and eventually they were forced to evacuate without accomplishing anything.

At this period signs were not wanting of the coming of forces. Around the old camps extensive spaces were cleared of bush in readiness for camping grounds. Supplies of all kinds arrived daily, by train or by wagon transport, and were stacked in huge piles in the open. Everywhere, in the frontier camps, could be seen added activities and increased optimism.

For two months this sort of thing had been going on, until one fine day—the 16th of January, 1916—the first large contingent of South African troops passed through Voi, and detrained at Maktau. The critical period was over; here was compensation at last for long months of waiting and watching.

Daily the arrival of troops, horses, mules, and baggage went on, and daily our spirits rose at the prospect of the coming advance into the enemy’s country.