EARLY in the morning of November 25th, 1917, our advance guard waded across the Rovuma, a little above the Ludjenda confluence; the main force of nine companies followed in the course of the forenoon, the rearguard about two days’ march in the rear. Captain Goering with three companies had crossed much further downstream to surprise a Portuguese camp reported there. We had no news of Captain Tafel, and I thought it probable that he would strike the Rovuma much further west.

The feeling that we were cut off from all support, as well as the absolute uncertainty as to the fate before us, had produced what is popularly known as “allgemeine Wurschtigkeit” (absolute callousness). Undisturbed by the tactical situation, our hunting parties went on with their work, and their shots were, as afterwards transpired, distinctly heard by the enemy.

While crossing the river, many took a careful bath in full view of the enemy; in many cases it required some effort to make clear the requirements of the state of war.

On the south bank we soon came under fire. The company acting as advance guard came upon enemy scouts, several of whom were killed. I employed the next few hours, while the troops gradually came up and covered the crossing of the rest, to reconnoitre. Not far from our front, on the far bank of the Ludjenda river, signals could be heard and men could be seen. We came close to the enemy camp and saw men in white suits moving about, a few hundred yards away. Others were building earthworks and a transport column was also observed. The troops were certainly in great force.

While I was still considering whether, and in what way, a prospect of attack offered, a column of Askari in khaki advanced from the camp towards our troops. About a company of the enemy left the camp. Guessing that the enemy was wisely about to attack our troops with all his force while they were still occupied in crossing the river, I ran back quickly and ordered those of our companies who had crossed first to put themselves in a defensive position. The favourable opportunity I had hoped for did not, however, materialize: the enemy did not come. Thus I was again faced with the question what to do. I was doubtful whether, in view of our large numbers of bearers, it would not be more expedient to march past the enemy stationed here at Ngomano and advance further up the Ludjenda river. Either the enemy would not hinder us, or, if he did, he would have to emerge from his entrenched positions and make up his mind for a difficult attack.

On the other hand, it was not unlikely that an attack by us on the enemy camp would be successful, for its defences were not yet especially strong. Reconnaissance had established that on the far bank of the Ludjenda river a belt of thick wood led right up to the camp and offered the opportunity of surprising the enemy here in strength, and bringing off a decisive attack. I had not yet fully made up my mind when Captain MÜller decided me to take that one of the two decisions which, though very risky, offered a prospect of the long awaited decisive success and the capture of ammunition and war material which had become an urgent necessity. No time was to be lost.

The attack was, therefore, made while part of the force was still crossing the river. While our light mountain-gun fired on the enemy’s entrenchments from the west, and while at the same time several companies engaged the enemy on this side as also from the north, Captain Koehl’s detachment crossed the Ludjenda half a mile above Ngomano, marched through the high wood on that bank and made a determined attack on the enemy’s camp from the south. I took up my position on a little hill west of the camp, near our guns. Immediately behind me the last company of General Wahle’s force to cross the river was advancing along a valley. In front I had a fairly good view of the enemy’s entrenched positions. The enemy’s machine guns were not shooting badly, and their fire was at times directed upon our little sand hill, from which I had to send into cover a number of Europeans and Askari, who had collected there immediately and were visible to the enemy. The clear ring of the enemy rifles, which we had heard before, and the absence of trench-mortars, made it probable that the enemy were Portuguese. We had already learned to distinguish clearly between the dull, full detonation of our ’71, the sharp crack of our S-rifle, the double report of the English rifle and the clear ring of the Portuguese rifle of a little over 6 mm. calibre. Even our Askari had noticed at once that in short skirmishes the speed with which the enemy trench-mortars always got the range of our positions had been very harassing.

Our ’71 rifles threw up so much smoke that it was impossible to guard against this. To-day, however, there were no mine-throwers, and the treacherous smoke of our good old rifles was not so bad. On the other hand, when they did hit their target they made a very considerable hole. Our Askari soon realized that to-day they were able to bring their soldierly superiority to bear without being handicapped by inferior weapons. “To-day is the day of the old rifles!” they shouted to the German leaders, and from my hill I soon saw the firing line of Koehl’s detachment storm the enemy’s entrenchments at the double and capture them.

This was the signal for attack on the other fronts also. From all sides they charged the enemy, who was badly shaken by the concentrated fire. Scarcely more than 200 of the enemy force, about 1,000 strong, can have survived. Again and again our Askari troops, in search of booty, threw themselves ruthlessly upon the enemy, who was still firing; in addition, a crowd of bearers and boys, grasping the situation, had quickly run up and were taking their choice of the pots of lard and other supplies, opening cases of jam and throwing them away again when they thought they had found something more attractive in other cases. It was a fearful mÊlÉe. Even the Portuguese Askari already taken prisoner, joined in the plunder of their own stores. There was no alternative but to intervene vigorously. I became very eloquent, and, to make an example, dashed at least seven times at one bearer I knew, but each time he got away and immediately joined in the looting somewhere else. At last I succeeded in restoring discipline.

We buried about 200 enemy dead, and about 150 European prisoners were released after taking an oath not to fight again during this war against Germany or her Allies; several hundred Askari were taken prisoner. Valuable medical stores, so necessary to us, and, as a result of the Portuguese experience of centuries of colonial campaigning, of excellent quality, were captured, as well as several thousand kilos of European supplies, large numbers of rifles, six machine-guns and about thirty horses. Unfortunately we captured no native supplies. Almost half of our force was re-armed this time with Portuguese rifles; and a plentiful supply of ammunition was served out. A quarter of a million rounds of ammunition were captured, and this number was increased in the course of December to nearly a million. From captured dispatches we learned that the Portuguese-European companies had only reached Ngomano a few days before, in order to carry out the impossible English order to prevent a German crossing of the Rovuma. It was really a perfect miracle that these troops should have arrived so opportunely as to make the capture of the place so profitable to us. With one blow we had freed ourselves of a great part of our difficulties.

But yet another serious difficulty arose, which drove us remorselessly on. This was the necessity of procuring food for our large numbers of natives. Accordingly we advanced up the Ludjenda river. Day after day our patrols searched for native guides and supplies. During the next few days, however, they had little success. The natives, never numerous in this district, had fled before the advance of the Portuguese, fearing their ruthlessness and cruelty, and had hidden what stores they possessed. One after another, mules and horses found their way into our stew-pots. Fortunately this district is very rich in game, and the hunter can always shoot one of the numerous antelopes or guinea-fowl.

Though at first our marching columns were too long and straggling, here again practice made perfect. Bearers, boys, women and children, soon learned to keep pace and distance as exactly as the Askari. Regularly and in good order, the expedition wound along the narrow native paths, and even through the thick bush, into the unknown land. Half an hour’s halt was called after every two hours’ march; the rule was six hours’ march a day, i.e., about fifteen to twenty miles, and this was often exceeded. The force was for the most part divided into detachments of three companies, each with one supply train and one field hospital. The advance detachment was a day’s march ahead of the main body, the last a day’s march behind. At the head of each detachment marched the fighting companies with their machine guns; they had with them only the necessary ammunition and medical stores, and each European was allowed one load of necessities. The Askari marched gaily forward, straight as lances, and with their guns reversed over their shoulders, as has always been the custom in the rifle regiments. Lively conversation was kept up, and after the plundering of an enemy camp, which often yielded rich booty, cigarette smoke rose on all sides. The little signal recruits strode bravely forward, half-grown youths in Askari uniform for the most part, carrying all their worldly goods in a bundle on their heads. The Askari would call out their friendly, “Jambo Bwana Obao,” or “Jambo Bwana Generals” (“Good-day, Colonel”), or a little signalman would express his hope of coming some day to Uleia (Europe) and Berlin. “Then the Kaiser will say to me, ‘Good-day, my son,’ and I shall give him an exhibition of signalling. Then he will give me roast meat and present me to the Empress. The Empress will say, ‘Good-day, my child,’ and will give me cakes and show me the shop-windows.” During all their talk the Askari kept a sharp look-out, and no movement in the thick bush escaped their lynx eyes.

The head of the column investigated every trail, and from it gave the number and the distance of the enemy. Equally soldierly were the machine-gun bearers, mostly strapping Waniamwezi and Wazukuma. The companies and detachments were followed by bearers with the loads of supplies, baggage, camp-kit and stretcher cases. The loads, about 25 kg., were carried alternately on the head and shoulders. The endurance of these men is enormous. They became more and more attached to the troops. If ever the supplies were short and the hunting parties unsuccessful, they would say, “Haiswu’b (it doesn’t matter), we wait, get some another time.” Many marched barefoot and often got thorns in their feet. Often one would promptly take his knife and calmly cut out a piece of flesh from the wounded foot. Then he would start off again. The bearers were followed by the women and the Bibi. Many Askari had their wives and children with them in the field, and many children were born during the march. Each woman carried her own Mali (property), as well as that of her lord, on her head. Often they carried on their backs a small child, his woolly head peeping out of the cloth in which he was wound. The women were kept in order and protected by a European or a trustworthy old non-commissioned officer, assisted by a few Askari. They all liked gay colours, and after an important capture, the whole convoy stretching several miles would look like a carnival procession.

Even during the march the obtaining of supplies had to be attended to. Hunting patrols marched ahead of the column or on the flanks in the bush. Often they would remain behind near the old camping sites, where game or traces of game had been observed. Other patrols followed human tracks leading to settlements to requisition supplies. On arriving at the camping-ground, four Askari and my boy Serubiti would cut down branches and erect a frame for the tent sections or for a grass-hut. Sometimes a raised bivouac of branches was arranged and covered with grass. Soon afterwards the bearded Baba, my cook, would arrive and give careful directions for the arrangement of the kitchen. The bearers would come and fetch water, cut grass and firewood with their bush knives. The hunting patrols brought in what they had shot, and soon the smell of cooking rose from the camp-fires on all sides. Meanwhile, parties of bearers had been threshing in the villages, and brought back corn. In the Kinos (thick wooden vessels) the corn was crushed by beating it with thick clubs, the dull thuds sounding far into the bush. Messages, reconnaissance reports, and captured dispatches were brought in; a box in a shady spot served as a desk. During the longer halts a table was built of branches. The evening meal was eaten in company with friends round the camp fire, the boys bringing cases to sit on. The more lordly had deck-chairs. Then to bed under the mosquito-nets, and in the early morning once more into the unknown. Should we find supplies, and could we make what we had last out until we did? These uncertainties cropped up every day afresh, and haunted us week after week and month after month. The eternal marching was, as will be understood, no mere pleasure. At—— I heard some remarks about myself, such as: “Still further? The fellow must come from a family of country postmen!”

When we reached the confluence of the Chiulezi, difficulties of supplies had become so serious, and the district hitherto regarded as fertile had so greatly altered, that I dropped my original intention of keeping the force together. For the moment it seemed impossible, from the tactical point of view also. From the English, who were probably following us, we need not expect any strong pressure, owing to the daily lengthening of their line of communication and the consequent difficulty of bringing up supplies.

A written message from the British Commander-in-Chief, General van Deventer, in which he summoned me to surrender, was brought under protection of the white flag, and strengthened me in my belief that our escape had taken him by surprise, and that our invasion of Portuguese territory had put him at a loss. Neither he nor General Smuts had ever thought of sending a summons to surrender when the situation was favourable to the English. Why should they do so in a situation like the present, or that of September, 1916, at Kissaki, which was undoubtedly favourable to us? Only because they were at their wits’ end. That was indeed not difficult to see through. The time before the setting in of the rainy season, at the end of December, was too short to prepare for a fresh operation, and after the rains had begun the enemy transport of supplies, which depended largely on motors, would be faced with new difficulties.

We had, therefore, plenty of time, and could divide ourselves into several columns without hesitation. We had nothing to fear from temporary loss of touch one with the other. Accordingly General Wahle’s detachment was separated from the rest, and marched through the Mkula mountains, while I marched further up the Ludjenda.

The surrender of Captain Tafel, which I learned from General van Deventer’s message, came as a severe and unexpected blow.

Captain Tafel had taken over the command at Mahenge from General Wahle, when the latter left to take over the forces on the Lindi front. He secured the fertile region of Mahenge to the north, with Commander Schoenfeldt’s detachment of a few companies. The latter succeeded in holding his ground with his weak force by skilful use of his 10·5 gun from the KÖnigsberg, and put his force in a very favourable position materially by the cultivation of gardens and fields.

On the middle Ruhudje was a weak detachment under Captain Aumann, and north-east of Ssongea Captain Lincke’s detachment near Likuju. The latter engaged the enemy repeatedly, and in the barren district suffered from lack of supplies. They therefore gradually retired north to Mponda. There they were reinforced by two companies and one gun from the main force. Captain Otto took over the command. In August, 1917, strong English and Belgian forces converged on Mahenge; Captain Tafel had foreseen this, and withdrawn his supplies out of the Mahenge district to Mgangira. On September 11th, Mahenge was evacuated. Even though the individual engagements were often successful, the superiority of the enemy made itself seriously felt, and the shortage of ammunition handicapped more and more the Askari companies, mostly armed with the smoky ’71 rifle.

I learned later through Captain Otto, who had fought his way through to me with one of Captain Tafel’s patrols and joined me at——, that Captain Tafel, from west of Livale, had marched south in three columns, and on the upper Mbemkuru had fought several partially successful actions, capturing large quantities of ammunition. He had then marched further south to the Bangala river, and turned east when he thought he was near Massassi. South of this place he heard from the natives that the Germans had not been fighting north of Rovuma for several days. Captain Tafel turned towards the Rovuma and crossed near the Nangala confluence, hoping to find supplies on the south bank. His own were literally exhausted. He found nothing and had no idea that about a day’s march from him Goering’s detachment of my force had captured the Portuguese camp and found enough food on the prosperous farms to enable them to live well for fourteen days. Captain Tafel therefore returned to the north bank of the Rovuma and surrendered to the enemy.

The news of Captain Tafel’s surrender strengthened my reluctance to detach another part of my force, though, in view of my proximity, the junction at which we were both aiming had as nearly as possible been effected. I was straightway put upon the rack by the cessation of news from Goering’s detachment with which, while it was at Ngomano, we had kept touch by means of patrols. During the march up the Ludjenda, when we had to keep the different detachments and companies further apart, in order to facilitate the search for food, it was necessary to impress upon subordinate leaders the importance of keeping the whole force in touch. It was, however, not to be expected that these officers, who later performed such excellent work as leaders of detachments, and worked so successfully in co-operation with the rest, should possess the necessary training from the beginning. The Governor had remained with the force even after leaving the Protectorate, in accordance with the regulation (certainly not intended to provide for war with a European power) that he was the military head of the Protectorate. He had interpreted this authority in such a way as to interfere most seriously with that of the Commander-in-Chief, and had often encroached upon my sphere of activity. I had been powerless to prevent this, and now that we were outside the Protectorate I attached the greatest importance to the fact that now, at any rate, I had a free hand. Even if I did not yield to the Governor’s claims, it must be understood that in the unprecedented military situation there were enough differences of opinion to overburden the Commander-in-Chief, who, whatever happens, is held actually, if not morally, responsible.

It was perhaps natural that at this time I was not always very gentle and considerate to those around me. So it happened that those very officers of my Staff who were working with the greatest devotion to the cause and deserved the most recognition, were the objects of much unjustified reproach. For not taking offence or allowing this to prejudice the cheerful continuation of their work, they deserve particular gratitude. It is largely to the work of these officers, often carried out under adverse circumstances, that are due the successes which the public is so generously inclined to place wholly to my credit. For me, who have always delighted in the good comradeship characteristic of our officer corps, this general atmosphere of snarling and fault-finding was naturally not ideal. Fortunately, however, it was only a passing phase.

Our position was now such that in case of an encounter with the enemy we could not investigate his strength. We had no time for prolonged reconnaissance. Perhaps this conviction, together with the determination with which we attacked the Portuguese forces whenever we met them, accounts for the fact that, during December, three more Portuguese fortified positions were taken in quick succession. Of decisive importance in these enterprises was the personality of the officer in command who first engaged the enemy. He must lose no time, and so could not wait for orders. On the 2nd November, Lieutenant Kempner, commanding the 11th Company, which was acting as advance-guard in the march up the Ludjenda, came upon a fortified Portuguese camp at Nangwale. Like most Portuguese camps, it lay on a bare hill, with a wide range of fire. The brave 11th Company at once deployed along the edge of the bush, and advanced to the attack across three hundred metres of open ground exposed to the enemy’s fire. The Askari, who were carrying full marching kit, could not keep up with the company commander and his Effendi (black officer). Lieutenant Kempner and the Effendi leapt upon the enemy’s breastwork, and from there into the enemy’s entrenchments, and so for a time found themselves alone among the enemy garrison, consisting of a platoon. The latter were so dumbfounded that, hearing the cheers of the oncoming Askari, they at once obeyed the order to lay down their arms. In addition, a considerable ammunition dump fell into our hands, as well as enough rations to feed our whole force for several days. When the Portuguese officer invited Lieutenant Kempner to a glass of special brandy and found the bottle empty, its owner had further reason for being taken aback, but with the difference this time that his enemy was taken aback equally. An Ombascha (black lance-corporal) had the best of the joke.

I was filled with grave anxiety about the fate of Captain Goering, of whom I had received no news. From General Wahle’s force, which had marched up the Chiulezi river, we heard subsequently that they had attacked and annihilated a force of several Portuguese companies in a strongly entrenched position in the Mkula mountains. The repeated attempts to establish communication with Wahle’s force by means of the heliograph did not succeed, although the Portuguese in the Mkula mountains had clearly observed our signals from Nangwale. The Portuguese Europeans captured by our detachment had refused to give their word not to fight against us again in this war. They had been sent north to the Rovuma by General Wahle owing to the difficulty of feeding them.

Captain Stemmermann succeeded, after several days’ siege, in capturing another very strongly held and vigorously defended fortified position. As the storming of this offered no prospects of success, the enemy’s water supply was cut off, which made his position in the trenches untenable, and forced him to surrender. Among our casualties, unfortunately, were a number of very good native non-commissioned officers. I was not present at the fighting at Nangwale, as I was occupied in dealing with delays in the rear companies and arranging that the march should be kept up to the intended standard. By a double day’s march I easily made up for the delay this had caused me, and arrived in Nangwale in time to superintend the division of the captured stores. In the most favourable circumstances we were only living from hand to mouth. At Nangwale, where six months before our troops had found such a rich neighbourhood, the position was now quite different. Apart from the captured stores there was absolutely nothing; even the game in a considerable area round Nangwale had been shot or frightened away. This was a disappointment, for I had hoped at this place to be freed from the more ordinary difficulties of supplies. The force had, therefore, to be split up. From the information of the prisoners and captured documents it appeared that the garrison in Nangwale had been fed by columns of bearers from the distant neighbourhood of Mwalis. There must, then, be something to be found there.

On 5th December Captain Koehl, with five companies, a gun and an ammunition column, left Nangwale to march to the Mwalia—Medo district. I myself continued the march up the Ludjenda. Fortunately the assurance of Lieutenant von Scherbening and other Europeans, who had already patrolled this district, that we should soon come into a region rich in supplies was confirmed. These supplies, however, were not excessive, and we were very glad that they could be largely supplemented by hunting. The enormous numbers of hippopotami which lived in the river above Nangwale, often in large herds of from fifteen to twenty, had become quite a staple dish. I myself could not resist having a shot at a huge bull; the animal sank at once, the water above it swirling as over a sinking ship. After a time it came to the surface again, feet uppermost, and made little further movement. The animal was then drawn to the bank with a rope. The numerous crocodiles made us cautious, and many a good prize had to be left from fear of these. The flesh of the hippopotamus tastes like coarse beef; the tongue, however, is particularly delicate. The most valuable product, however, is the excellent lard which the men had very quickly learnt to prepare. Its snow-white, appetizing appearance now was quite different from the dirty yellow of the first attempts on the Rufiji. On my many reconnoitring and hunting expeditions into the bush the Askari, who came with me and the bearers to carry the spoils of the chase, gradually revealed some of the secrets of the bush. We had long ago learned to make excellent spinach from different foliage plants (called Mlenda); now they showed me many different kinds of excellent wild fruit. We also learnt that the kernel of the Mbinji-fruit, the pulp of which I already knew contains prussic acid, is quite free from acid, and when roasted makes an exceptionally delicate dish, tasting like our hazel-nut.

On the 17th December, 1917, Headquarters arrived at Chirumba (Mtarika). Lieutenant von Ruckteschell, with his company, had gone on ahead and had soon driven off the weak Portuguese outposts. This was a station of the Portuguese Nyassa company; this merchant company also administered the northern part of the colony. Further south, too, the administration is in the hands of other private companies. The Portuguese official in Chirumba, called Fernandez, seems to have been very capable. The massive buildings of his station, situated at the top of a bare eminence, were spotlessly clean. A trench ensured it against surprise. Beautiful gardens with fruit and vegetables stretched along the bank of the adjacent Ludjenda river. Avenues of mulberry and mango trees fringed the carefully laid-out roads. Many species of this mango fruit, known to the natives as Emben, were to be found in the station and the neighbouring native villages. It was already beginning to ripen and was so plentiful that it was found worth while to have the fruit systematically gathered. The waste to which the natives are generally prone was prevented as far as possible. The beautiful, sweet fruit was enjoyed by all the Europeans and a great part of the natives, and, in view of the shortage of sugar, for weeks provided a really valuable addition to the supplies. When, on my arrival at Chirumba, I stepped on to the veranda of the European house, Lieutenant Ruckteschell set before me some hog’s lard, which I had not seen for a long time. Here, as at many other Portuguese stations, there had been European pigs.

We remained here for several weeks. One detachment moved further upstream and took possession of the small station of Luambala. At the same time General Wahle marched to the prosperous station of Mwemba, already known to us. The richly-cultivated triangle Chirumba-Luambala-Mwemba and beyond the frontier was patrolled by our requisitioning and reconnaissance patrols. The natives of this district showed themselves for the most part intelligent and friendly; they already knew that they had nothing to fear from the German troops. In spite of that they had hidden their stores of food in the bush and would let us have little or nothing. Our men had, however, long since learned to examine closely, for example, a suspicious-looking tree stump, and often found that it had been put together by hand and was the hiding place for stocks of food. Others would drive their sticks into the hollow ground of a freshly laid-out garden and found stores of grain buried there. In short, many such hiding-places were found, and when, at Christmas, we sat down to dinner in a large grass-hut, we were relieved of the most pressing shortage of food. According to the descriptions of our men the Ludjenda river was, during several months of the year, so full of fish that they could be pulled out in basketfuls. Oddly enough, on this occasion only very few were caught. Most of them were sheat-fish, about eighteen inches long, and smaller fish which were best fried crisp. These, too, contributed their modest share towards the improvement of the rations.

Touch was kept with Koehl’s detachment in the neighbourhood of Medo by means of a system of relays. I thought it probable that the enemy, following his usual tactics, was preparing a great concentric movement against us which would not be ready for at least a month. We could thus rely on there being no considerable enemy activity until after the rains, which would end at the end of February. About this time I intended to concentrate my forces in the neighbourhood of Nanungu. Until then we must husband our supplies in this area and live as far as possible on what could be obtained in the outer fringe of our present locality. At first there was not much game shot at Chirumba, but the bag increased when we found considerable herds of antelopes on the east bank of the Ludjenda, and particularly further upstream. During the remainder of the dry season, while the river was low, caravans of bearers were continually crossing the river by several fords, carrying their loads to the dumps on the east bank. As well as the fords, canoes made from hollowed tree-trunks were used for crossing. Patrols were sent out for weeks at a time to collect supplies and reconnoitre. Lieutenant von Scherbening, with his patrol, made an expedition lasting months, marching from Chirumba via Mtenda, Mahua and finally south, via the Lurio river, then up the Malema, where they surprised the Portuguese Boma Malema. An Italian, who had been hunting elephants on the Ludjenda and had joined us in a ragged, starving condition, accompanied Lieutenant von Scherbening’s patrol. The man’s health was, however, so undermined by lingering malaria and his spleen so terribly swollen that he had to be carried from Mahua to a plantation near Malacotera.

At the beginning of January, 1918, the English began to move. From the south-east corner of Lake Nyassa two battalions—the 1st and 2nd King’s African Rifles—began to advance towards Captain Goering’s detachment, which had joined up with us and occupied the acute angle between the Luhambala and Ludjenda rivers. He was covering the supply stores further up the Ludjenda. On 9th January, in the forenoon, a detachment of the enemy, attacking unsupported, was defeated. When, in the afternoon, the enemy returned to the attack after the arrival of his reinforcements, and at the same time an enemy force pressed forward in a northerly direction toward the supply dumps on the east bank, Captain Goering crossed to the east bank with the main part of his force. Only a strong patrol was left in the old camp on the west bank, and they held the enemy in check. At the same time an enemy force—the 2nd Cape Corps of South African half-breeds was identified—was advancing on Mwembe.

Then began innumerable small skirmishes and patrol actions, which often put us in an awkward position, owing to our inability to protect the bearers bringing up supplies. The English cleverly took advantage of these difficulties to try to undermine the loyalty of our Askari. Many were very war-weary. Added to this, there was in many cases the feeling of uncertainty as to where the campaign was going to lead them. The great majority of black men cling to their homes and their relations. They said to themselves: “If we go further we shall come into country we don’t know. We can find our way back from where we are now, but soon we shan’t be able to.” The English propaganda, by word of mouth and pamphlets, fell in many cases on fruitful ground, and, as a result, a number of good Askari and even older non-commissioned officers deserted. Small annoyances, such as are bound to arise—the persuasion of the women and so on—all contributed to their decision to desert. One old sol (native sergeant-major) suddenly disappeared, who had led a brilliant independent patrol and had brought a strong detachment of bearers with their loads right through the enemy lines, and for his good service had been promoted to “Effendi.” He, too, had deserted. The impulsiveness of the black makes him very sensitive to insinuation. But even if the English Colonel can boast of having lowered the moral of certain elements, this was only a passing phase. The old lust of battle and the old loyalty returned, even among those who had begun to hang their heads. The example of the faithful Askari, who simply laughed at the mountains of gold the English promised them if they would desert, won the day. In so long and trying a campaign the moral was bound to be low from time to time. It was no use to be astonished and discouraged, the important thing was to fight against it firmly, and for this the loyal elements, of which there were many, both among Europeans, Askari and bearers, had firmly made up their minds.