The dusty road through dense tropical thorn-bush followed the “lie” of the mountain, and to approach Longido West you came round the bend from the west, and swung easterly, to find the camp, an irregular, partly cleared space in the midst of trees. The camp, with cunning purpose, was under cover, for it was within the timber line, which hung densely in colour and form along, and all around, the mountain base. Beyond, at no great distance to the south and west, the bush terminated, and open yellow veldt stretched far out to the hill-marked distance where sheltered the considerable town of Arusha.

The whole was a wilderness country, neither bush nor veldt held human creature! All that lived was of nature’s giving! In the forest of thorns, and by the mountain-fed streamlet which gave the camp sparingly of priceless water, bird, insect, and plant life, in myriad forms, were habited in abundance. Beyond the jungle of low-stature trees, the veldt lay in expressionless vagueness and silence, with but the slow, dark movement of a small number of ostrich and wildebeeste, and the flight of a ranging vulture, to attract and hold the wandering eye.

And it was here that our forces were congregating, over the German border, under the south-western continuance of Longido Mountain. We had been days in coming, and we had come from many places—British, South African, Indian, and native African—and we knew by the unwonted stir of traffic that there was “something on.” A day passed, two days, and still the gathering grew! Troops and transport—ox wagons, mule wagons, and motors—and the hundred-and-one oddments that accompany a large force, came into view at the clearing entrance, passed down the road and camped, and thenceforth became part of us. In time, it came to be the evening of the second day, and a great stir arose in camp.

Orders were out: we were to commence the advance to-morrow! Suppressed excitement was in the air! Down the dust-smothered road, as I passed to camp, there trooped to water a hurrying continual line of thirsty, road-tired, sad-visaged horses, mules, and oxen, accompanied by gesticulating, chattering, khaki-clad attendants. The men were discussing the news, and the prospect ahead, in many different ways and in different tongues of English, Dutch, Hindu, and Swahili. It was nigh to the common hour of peacefulness—that is, peace as near as it is ever realised in the army—when half-clad, begrimed, talkative soldiers grub and wash up around the evening camp fires. But to-night there was no peace. Sergeants were calling out orders on every rustle of the wind, fatigue parties were falling-in here, there, and everywhere. Final preparations were in full swing, and—what use to deny it?—fuss and confusion held sway, as if in devilish glee. Rations, the most vital care of the army, were discussed and arranged. Kits to go, 25 lb. per man, including his blanket and spare boots, and surplus kits to be left behind were packed and loaded on wagons, or stored. Sick men, and men not particularly robust, were sorted out and detailed for garrison, for commanders realise that only the very fittest can endure the hardship of a long trek in Africa. Finally all was arranged and the sleep of night settled on the camp.

Next day we were off to the south on a narrow dust-laden track. We were an infantry column, a column made up of variously dressed soldiers of different races, a column of various kind and equipment, eloquent of the brotherhood of colonies. We streamed out in column of route, after scouts had preceded us by half an hour or so. The 129th Baluchis, olive-hued Indian soldiers in turbans and loose-kneed trousers, were in advance; then their maxim battery of gunners and side-burdened, bridle-led mules. Then came the 29th Punjabis, another regiment of similar kind, followed closely by some battalions of South African artillery—a bold array of gun-carriages and ammunition wagons, each drawn by eight span of sturdy South-American-bred mules, and driven by reckless Cape boys mounted on the line of near mules. Then followed more infantry, the 25th Royal Fusiliers, of familiar face and colour, of our own kind, but soiled and sunburnt with long exposure; the 1st King’s African Rifles, well-trained natives of stalwart appearance, khaki-clad as the rest, but with distinctive dark-blue puttees and light close-fitting headgear. And so on, and so on, down the line, except that one might mention the ammunition column in the rear, a long line of two-wheeled carts, drawn by two span of patient, slow-gaited oxen. In the rear, trailing far behind, came the miscellaneous transport—some motors, large four-wheeled mule-wagons, Scotch carts, and water carts, an assortment of varied, somewhat gipsy-like kind. The wagons, which were most in evidence, and which carry from three thousand to four thousand pounds, were drawn by ten span of mules, or by sixteen to twenty span of oxen, and all were ordered and driven by capable management of men from South Africa, who had long experience in trekking in their own country. In all it was probably a column of a fighting strength of from 4,000 to 5,000 men, with its necessary large following of accoutrements.

When the column reached far out into the grass-grown, sandy plain—for it was open highland here—one could look back, almost as far as the eye could distinguish, and see the course of the column, as the fine line of a sinuous thread drawn across the blank space of an incomplete map! To-day, the map was marked; to-morrow, the thin dust-line would be gone onward, and the desert veldt would again lie reposed in vagueness.

Thus did we leave our harbour of safety to venture far into the enemy’s country on “the long trek”; to travel amidst dust, and dryness, and heat, for many days.

It was on a Sunday morning, the 5th of March, 1916, that the advance began. This column leaving Longido was to operate round the west of Kilimanjaro and finally converge on Moschi, the terminal of the Usambara railway—the only railway in the northern area of German territory. The column was acting in conjunction with large forces operating, also on the border, away to the east of Kilimanjaro: forces which were largely South African, and that were opposite the long-standing enemy line defending Taveta and barring the main thoroughfare into German territory. This marked the commencement of the offensive campaign under General Smuts—an offensive that time proved was to last twenty-one months before German East Africa was to be cleared of the enemy and completely in our hands.

However, as I have said, one Sunday morning, at the beginning of March, found us moving out on the big game, eagerly, and with a great gladness to be “up and doing.”

The column travelled east along the line of Longido Hill, then struck south across the flat, sandy plain before us until the shelter of the Sheep Hills was reached. Here the column was halted under the northern slopes of the hills, thus making use of the protection which they afforded from observation from the south—for the south held ever the danger of the enemy. The column had trekked about eight miles across trackless country, making a road as they went merely by the commotion and pressure of wheels and of thousands of feet of troops and their transport animals. Marching was unpleasant in the soft, powdered dust which lay ankle-deep underfoot, and was kicked in the air in a hanging cloud to choke both throat and nostrils, and adhere to every visible part of one’s clothing.

Under the Sheep Hills we lay in the heat of the sun, waiting our orders. At 6.30 p.m. the column moved out on a long night march. A two hours’ halt was called at midnight, but otherwise we trekked steadily on all through the night. At midnight, detachments went off on our left flank to attack at dawn the enemy post on Ngasseni Hill. The enemy were engaged, but the fight was short-lived, and in due course the hill was occupied by our troops. The main column encountered no opposition, though opposition had been expected at the Engare Naniuki water.

The column camped at 10.30 the following morning at water at Engare Naniuki. We had travelled all night into the south over a level sandy plain, covering, roughly, twenty miles. Entrenchments were dug in camp, and the swamp grass, bordering the water-holes, was burnt. Camp was unmasked to all eyes, friend or foe, by a continually rising cloud of fine chalk-like lava sand. Profusion of troops and transport were everywhere, and made an animated picture while moving here and there on quest of their unending duties.

I picked up two young hares (Sungura) in camp, paralysed with fear at finding themselves surrounded by such overwhelming commotion. Overhead, many flocks of sand-grouse passed in the morning and evening; apparently they haunt these plains in their migrations.

The following morning we moved out at 8 o’clock and made slow progress during the march. The column skirted the river-course of Engare Naniuki and passed through open country. A long delay was caused getting the column across the “drift” at Nagasseni Bridge, when we intercepted the Aruscha—Engare Nairobi road; the river was, here, about 25 feet wide and the water swift flowing. The bridge over the river had been destroyed before our arrival. The column, in the late afternoon, camped, when across the Engare Naniuki, at Nagasseni.

Nagasseni, which had been hastily evacuated, was a prominent hill with a small boma and fort on the crest commanding the river and the bridge. At 2.30 in the morning the camp was stirred afoot, and the column moved out in the dark an hour later. The travelling was east, then south-east, through fairly level country commanded by many cone-shaped bare kopjes. We are still free of bush country. To-day we march through forsaken desert, sparsely grass-grown, and of a surface nature of metallic lava crustings. A small party of enemy was engaged, on our left front, about noon. The enemy fired on our mounted advance scouts from a low kopje which they occupied. But our scouts had previously sighted the enemy, and had sent back word to the column. Mountain Battery guns, already trained on the target, opened fire the instant the enemy showed his hand, and with deadly shooting put the enemy to flight in no time, followed by rounds of vicious shrapnel. It proved to be a mere outpost of enemy reported at thirty-five strong.

All are beginning to wonder where we are to “bump” the enemy. Is there to be no resistance offered to an advance from this side of Kilimanjaro? Has an advance here been thought impossible? Is it completely a surprise?

Soon after the short moment of excitement, above mentioned, Geraragua River was reached, and camp was pitched on the north bank. Here our position was entrenched, and camp for the night prepared.

Next day we spent in camp while a convoy returned to Engare Nairobi to assist in bringing forward rations, which were being delayed owing to the heavy half-broken tracks. Near here, at Kakowasch, an enemy camp, hastily evacuated, was found among the bush of the Kilimanjaro foothills. This was set fire to and burned so that the grass huts could not be reoccupied.

The following day the column moved out at noon—our destination said to be Ngombe, which is across the Aruscha line of the enemy’s retreat from Moschi, should the eastern forces attack it from the Taveta side. We travelled until dark through level country, pimpled with numerous pigmy hills; breaking road through the country as we went. About darkening we entered bush country, which offered splendid concealment to the enemy, but they did not put in an appearance. About this time, however, some of our artillery, who were having difficulty in getting along on the heavy tracks, were attacked by the enemy in the open, some distance in our rear. Forward, with the column, the rifle-fire was heard, and the boom of our thirteen-pounders. Detachments were ordered to retire and reinforce the rear. Our battalion went back about three miles, but did not go into action, as the enemy by that time had been beaten off. Again we moved on in the darkness, and about 3 a.m. rejoined the column. It had been uncertain, awkward marching, the night was very dark, the track broken, and heavy with dust. About the time we rejoined the column it began to rain. A halt was called, and we slept in our tracks, for the remaining three hours, until daylight—then up and away again. It was bitterly cold sleeping in the open in the rain, but we were too dog-tired to care. A number of horses and mules are now dying by the roadside with horse sickness and tsetse fly. Mosquitoes numerous since entering the bush. Marched about eighteen miles to-day.

Saturday, 11th March.—Just one week since we left Longido. Marched at 2 p.m., heading south through the bush, with Kilimanjaro Mountain on our left, and Meru Mountain on our right. Towards dusk, on reaching open country, the column swung easterly and crossed the plain, pursuing a line parallel with the southern slopes of Kilimanjaro, but well away from the mountain. The German town of Moschi was sighted away to the north-east, and eager were the eyes that witnessed it, because there was probably our objective and the enemy. About dusk, scouts engaged in a short bout of firing with opposing scouts, but soon the bush was “all clear.” Marched until 9 p.m. and camped, before Kilimanjaro, on River Sanja. Fires were observed between us and Moschi, and were thought to be those of the East African Mounted Rifles, who were reconnoitring nearer in to the mountain base. Marched about fifteen miles to-day.

“Stand to” was at 5 o’clock on Sunday morning, but dawn broke undisturbed. A few shots were fired by our sentries overnight at prowling scouts. Part of column moved out at 9 a.m.; and returned in evening, without having been in action. Our present camp is on the Aruscha road, about five miles from Ngombe. The column is now about sixty miles away from its starting-point at Longido.

Marched on Monday for Masai Kraal, hoping there to intercept the enemy’s retreat from Moschi. Reached Ngombe about 11 a.m. A number of houses were still inhabited, by Goanese and Greeks, and they had white flags erected to protect themselves from attack. The small river Kware flowed through the village. Transport and considerable artillery were left behind here, while the column continued eastward on the low road or, more properly, track, to Moschi. The bush is now becoming more luxuriantly tropical in country that is apparently well watered. Marched until 2 a.m. in the dark, through rain, and over a track narrow and unused. On camping everyone was so done up that fires were allowed for warmth, and to make tea. Few of us could sleep, we were so very wet, and the remainder of the night was spent cowering over our fires in poor endeavour to keep some circulation alive in our numbed bodies. Marched about fifteen miles to-day.

The following day, in the early morning, our course was changed, and the column marched direct for Moschi, news having been received that the town had been evacuated and was occupied by South African forces from the eastern column. During the march our column forded four rivers in the course of the day—the Kikafu, the Weruweru, the Kiladera, and the Garanga. It is slow, patience-trying work transporting animals and wagons through such river-drifts; not one or two heavily burdened mules, not one or two wagons, had to be coaxed down steep banks, and across the ford, and up the opposite bank, but the endless number of an entire column. However, in the end the last river was passed, and we marched into Moschi just after dark, a weary and footsore column; both man and beast thoroughly done up. Torrential rain fell all night, and all were very thankful for the shelter of the various buildings and barns into which we were crowded. But even then our sleep was a broken one, lying on the cold hard floor, or on the ground, without blanket covering. For the past three days we have been without our kits or blankets, only our bare rations having been transported with us in our haste onwards.

Moschi—which is the Swahili for “smoke,” and which aptly refers to the mists daily hanging over Kilimanjaro mountain-top—had been captured without any resistance, though it had been thought that the enemy would make a long stand there. It proved an extensive, well-built town, nestling in the pleasant and picturesque surroundings of the Kilimanjaro foothills. A mile or so above the new town were the old fort and residences of Old Moschi. Coffee and rubber were extensively grown in the district, and well-developed plantations abounded in the neighbourhood of the town. There was a large civil population left in the town at the time of occupation, principally natives, Goanese, and Greeks.

On the 15th, 16th, and 17th March we lay in Moschi resting, while it daily, and gaily, rained in torrents. Apparently the rainy season had begun in this locality.

On the evening of the 18th, however, all was again stir and movement, and the column marched out at dusk on the good made road that strikes south-east to Muë Hill. We marched pleasantly all night, for it was dry overhead and the moon was full. We reached Muë Hill at 4 a.m. and slept on the roadside for a brief three hours; clad only in our shirts, as we had marched out. After our brief spell of rest the wagons and pack-mules were loaded up, and we stood ready to march at a moment’s notice. While waiting, some dead horses were burnt by the roadside, for the poor animals continue to die in considerable numbers each day, and if not burnt soon create, in the heat of the sun, a vile penetrating smell, repulsive to all who pass. The column marched out at 1 p.m. in a southerly direction on the road to Kahe, which was a railway station some distance down the Moschi-Tanga line. Our advance guard engaged the enemy in the thick bush, which bordered either side of the road, at about 3 p.m. and firing kept up steadily for about half an hour. From there on we intermittently engaged the enemy, who were retiring in good order and taking up fresh positions about every half-mile.

About 2 p.m. aeroplanes from the eastern forces were sighted coming out from Taveta, and they flew over our front. They were trying to locate the enemy’s position ahead, and the direction of their retirement. All the afternoon heavy big-gun firing was heard, seemingly from somewhere west of Kitowo Mountains. The eastern column is evidently in action to-day, while we, too, are at last in touch with the main enemy forces. Camped for the night at Store—an open space with a few long-limbed cocoa-nut palms therein, and enclosed on all sides by thick forest, with the Defu River immediately on our right. No blankets to-night, and no fires possible on account of the proximity of the enemy. Camp fired on on three occasions overnight, but disturbances were short-lived. These alarms were at 2 a.m., 4 a.m., and at daylight.

The following day we remained in camp. No rations until noon, for owing to bad river-drifts, and wagon accidents in the darkness, the toiling transport had been outpaced, and left far behind, on the past two days of trekking. Much rejoicing among the breakfastless men when rations turned up. Aeroplanes scouting south of us in forenoon. The enemy, under the command of Kraut, is said to be holding the entire front on the Ruwu River, between Kahe Station (extreme west of line) and the marshes west of Mokinni Mountain (extreme east of line).

About 5 p.m. an enemy patrol crept up to the river where our troops were bathing and watering their animals, and opened fire on them. Confusion ensued on the river-bank. Unarmed bathers beat a precipitous retreat; mules and horses broke away in all directions. One of our men, stark naked, rushing back to our trench line for his arms, was amusingly confronted by the General and the Colonel of our battalion, who stopped him to inquire the cause of the disturbance. The poor fellow felt much abashed, and, no doubt, wished the ground would open up and swallow him. The firing soon ceased, and the excitement it had caused gradually quietened down. But peace was doomed to be short-lived, for at 8 a.m. at a suddenly given signal, tremendous fire swept the camp and startled everyone to frightful wakefulness. Bugle calls of the enemy rang out immediately after the first burst of firing, and thenceforward a deafening, close-grappling, vicious battle held forth. Time after time the enemy came on at our trench line, always to be held up and driven back. In all they made about twenty charges in frontal attack, and were once almost into our line. The engagement raged without pause for about four hours. The frontal attack, which could be rapidly reinforced from the road from the south, was the heaviest, but both flanks, at the same time, underwent considerable pressure, though from a farther range. German bugles sounded the advance from time to time, whenever there was a lull in the firing, as if the moment’s pause had been to take in breath for a fresh effort; and when one bugle sounded, the call would be caught up and repeated all around us in the darkness of the bush. The enemy fire, fortunately for us, was bad, for it was mostly too high, also many bullets were obstructed in their flight through the dense forest. Otherwise, our casualties must have been extremely heavy, for many of the column were without any trench cover, and lay exposed on the open ground. As it was our casualty return, eventually, was only three killed and seventeen wounded, and a number of horses destroyed, while, next day, the enemy were reported to have had fully one hundred casualties.

Next day—the memorable 21st of March, 1916—in the early morning, our column was reinforced from the eastern command with two battalions of South African Infantry, armoured cars, and some field guns. Orders had been received to attack Kahe. Our right was to be on the main road, when we advanced into battle. It transpired that General Van Deventer’s mounted brigade had passed through Moschi last night, and was to advance on the right flank and attack west and south of Kahe Station, while, at the same time, the eastern column was to operate along the line of the Himo River on the left flank.

Our column moved out at 9 a.m. Contact with the enemy was very soon found thereafter. At 11 a.m. our artillery opened fire on the enemy positions, while meantime our fighting line had formed and advanced slowly until about 400 to 800 yards off the enemy’s entrenched and prepared positions in the bottle-neck formed by the Soko-Nassai River at its junction with the Defu River. Here our forces were held, and the battle raged bitterly for some hours. Some of the enemy machine-guns were faultlessly handled, and inflicted heavy casualties. The fight was across a dead-level open grass space, terminating in bush at either fighting line. It was in the bush, on the enemy’s side, that their death-dealing machine-guns were concealed, and throughout the day our artillery failed to search them out. I saw those machine-gun emplacements later—there were two outstanding ones—and one proved to be on a raised platform, eight feet above ground, and skilfully concealed amongst the trees; the other was in a dug-out pit, with a fire-directing observation post in a tall tree standing just behind it. Where each gun had stood lay a huge stack of empty cartridge-cases, telling clearly that their gunners had found a big target. But where the raised gun had been, blood in all directions, and torn garments, and dead natives, told that not without payment had they held their post. But I digress. The battle raged unceasingly until dusk, with all its grime, and thirst, and heart-aching bloodshed. With darkness the firing ceased, as if by mutual consent, and immediately we commenced to strengthen our hastily dug trenches—dug during the action with bayonets, knives, hands—anything. And there they laboured, those grim, dirt- and blood-bespattered men of the firing lines while movement became general on all occupations. Ambulances and doctors were being sought on all sides, while many men passed along looking for water, in desperate need of quenching their thirst. In that bush forest, after dark, wandering parties, unfamiliar with the encampment as it lay after battle, seemed to be looking for every regiment, and water-cart, and doctor in creation. Late into the night the labours of readjustment and of organisation went on, while in the trenches dog-tired men, one by one, dropped off to sleep. About midnight peace settled over the camp, and the remainder of the night passed without further disturbance. At dawn, patrols went out and found the enemy had evacuated the entire front of prepared entrenchments, and had retired rapidly south under cover of the bush and the darkness. At the same time, news came in that General Van Deventer’s mounted troops had occupied Kahe Station, and the two commanding kopjes to the south.

So, for the time being, the storm of arms was over, and the enemy had staved off defeat by evading a prolonged battle.

At 9 a.m. our battalion moved forward and took up a new defensive line, facing the south, across the Ruwu River. South of the Ruwu River, on the left flank of the enemy’s position, lay the ruins of a 4·1 naval gun, laboriously transported inland from the Koenigsberg battleship, which, in the early days of the war, our naval forces had crippled and rendered unseaworthy after chasing it to its lair in the mouth of the Rufiji River. About 7 o’clock on the previous night all had heard a terrific explosion, and there now lay the wreckage of it. The gun had been set up completely and with ingenious labour. Iron girders carried the heavy plank platform which received the deck mountings of the gun. Tools, and ironmongery, and rope, of ship-board nature, lay about the gun in profusion. In all construction the equipment and labour were thorough and workmanlike. The labour of carrying the material from Kahe Station, and the labour of erection, must have been colossal, one would think almost impossible. The observation post for the gun—a crow’s-nest platform with a rude ladder access—was in a high thorn tree towering above all its neighbours; and during the late battle, from this look-out, they had been able to direct the fire of the gun on to both Van Deventer’s column and our own. Close to the gun were the many grass huts of an encampment of some weeks’ standing, while all about those dwellings were native stores of mealie-meal, peas and beans, and calabashes and empty bottles, the leavings of a settled camp suddenly unsettled.

The bridges over the Soko-Nassai and the Ruwu Rivers had been partially destroyed, and a party of us was selected to repair them, as soon as camp was established. Much of the old bridge timber was reclaimed from the floating ruins, wherever it was found to have jammed down-stream, and this saved us much labour, for otherwise make-shift timber would have had to be cut from the surrounding trees. Toward the end of the day the reconstruction was successfully completed. A rail was then run along either side of those bridges, and laced with broad banana leaves, so that transport animals would not see the drop to the river surface underneath. Grass and earth were then laid over the planking of the bridge, and again this was to assist the timid mules and cattle to face the crossing of an obstacle that they all instinctively feared.

On 23rd and 24th March, the column remained camped at Ruwu River. The day after the battle some interesting information was obtained from prisoners and is here noted: Two companies of the enemy were at Engare Nairobi at the time of our march from the border, and were to have held up our advance on Moschi. They retired on Moschi without offering any prolonged or determined resistance, and it transpired that the Major in command was severely reprimanded by the O.C. there; and took it so much to heart that he committed suicide the same night.

Sixteen companies—varying from 150 to 260 rifles per company—retired on Kahe from Moschi district.

The night attack on Store on the 20th inst. was made by three companies, while seven were held in reserve at Kahe. The enemy are stated to have had information that our strength was four infantry battalions. If that is correct, they were exceedingly courageous, or very foolish, to attack a force more than double their averred strength.

In the action before Kahe the enemy were said to have employed eight companies. After the engagement they were reported to have retired from the Ruwu front on to Lembeni, which is some twenty miles farther south on the railway. It is estimated that twenty companies have congregated at Lembeni, and that another stand is likely to be made there.

A doctor in the R.A.M.C. told me our casualties in the Kahe action were about 200. German intelligence notes, captured later, showed that their casualties had been eighteen Europeans and 146 Askaris. So that, if one recalls that we were attacking the enemy in their prepared positions, without cover for our troops, the result was not discouraging. Moreover, as I have said, their machine-guns were most skilfully handled and accounted for a large percentage of our casualties.

During the two days in camp at Ruwu, block-houses were built at the bridge crossing, for the rains had seriously commenced, and the line was here to be held until it was feasible to continue the advance. During the rains it would be impossible to go on, for the country would then be impassable for transport and guns; indeed much of it would be under water. Moreover, it was necessary to lay the railway line on from our base at Maktau to link up with the railway terminus at Moschi. So, meantime, a battalion of Baluchis were detailed to hold the line on the Ruwu, while the column retired to Moschi, which had the advantage of being on higher and dryer ground, and was nearer to the base of supplies. On 25th March the column commenced the return march, through heavy rain, and on terrible roads. The rain had coagulated the loose dust into a sticky holding mud that adhered, like a weight of lead, to the marching feet. Late at night, after a very trying march, the column reached Muë Hill and camped below the hill in an open space which resembled a marsh, for it was six inches deep in mud and water. In this way we lay down and slept as best we could, and passed a bad night.

Next day, which was Sunday, we marched at dawn; again through mud and rain. Many of our battalion fell out to-day, unable to go on, and were picked up by the following ambulances. No evening meal last night, and no breakfast this morning; and the men are feeling the acute strain that has been put on their endurance. We reached Moschi about noon, and the battalion was billeted in deserted buildings in the town.

And there our travels for a time ended, for it transpired that we were fated to lie in Moschi for a month and a half while it rained incessantly. The first trek was over, a trek that, since crossing the frontier, had entailed, for our column, a march of some 148 miles.