CHAPTER VIII

ANXIETIES AND HARDSHIPS DURING OUR STAY IN THE RUFIJI COUNTRY

OUR march from Kibata was on the first day carried out according to plan. On the following day I rode ahead with a few companions, in the expectation that the troops who had several native guides with them would not fail to find the way. In the Kissi mountains we came upon large numbers of natives who, however, were very timid and often deserted their flourishing rice plantations on our approach. Later in the day I regretted that I did not appropriate some of this abundant produce for our own use. During the midday heat we rested at Pori. Some of my companions who knew the country called my attention to the acid Mbinji fruit, which we found very refreshing. Unfortunately we did not know at that time that the stone of this fruit, when roasted, makes an excellent dish, tasting like our hazel-nut. The heat was overpowering, but as we were in the neighbourhood of the enemy patrols we had to keep a sharp look-out. The springs and water-courses were now dried up; after a long search we at last found a small pool of dirty water, which, however, we were told was not injurious to health. Towards evening we reached the great deserted settlement. Here we were fortunate enough to find a negro in the employ of the German Government, who informed us that we were at Ungwara, our destination for that day. After we had walked through the place, the man showed us a pool near which we pitched our camp. My old black cook, the bearded Baba, well known to many East Africans, had very nearly kept up with our horses, and, following our trail, soon arrived. He had soon prepared his _uzeli_ (boiled rice), and was sitting contentedly by the fire. We watched him enviously, for we had nothing, and were waiting for our baggage and the troops. But no one came and we lay down, hungry, to sleep. The friend in need, however, was approaching in the shape of a splendid sable-antelope, which in the brilliant moonlight was coming down to drink. Almost simultaneously the rifles of two of my companions, van Booyen and Nieuwenhuizen, experienced Boer hunters, who had become Germans, rang out. We sprang from our blankets as though we had received an electric shock, and within a short time the first pieces of delicate flesh were roasting on the spit.

On the following day we reached Lake Utungi, where Captain Feilke was awaiting us, and we refreshed ourselves with bread, coffee and sausage made from antelope flesh. There was still no trace of the troops. They had lost us in Pori, and almost all completely lost their bearings. One detachment did not get into touch with us until several days later, when they came upon our telephone line in the neighbourhood of Utete. In view of the difficulty of communication, it had hitherto been impossible to get an accurate estimate of the state of our supplies. I had expected to find well-filled depots at Mpanganya on Lake Utungi and in the neighbourhood of Madaba. This was why I had pressed on out of the fertile country north of the lower Rufiji through Mpanganya to the line-of-communication area. The question of supplies had developed quite differently from my expectations.

In the line-of-communication area, in addition to the large numbers of bearers necessary for the transport of war material to the south, a numerous _personnel_ was maintained, who were employed on road-making, building grass huts and for other purposes. Even in the small depots there were always a number of men who, whenever possible, did nothing but fetch supplies, which they ate themselves. Often the supplies were even fetched by others who, in their turn, had to be fed. In many places it was almost the case that a load of supplies collected and forwarded by the fighting troops in the north finally landed in a small depot, and were devoured by these people who had nothing else to do. In view of the difficulties of transport, and the great distances, even the energy and thoroughness of Captain Stemmermann, who had taken charge of the depots, did not succeed in detecting and putting a stop to these abuses. Further, there were too many people in Africa whose propensity for diverting valuable energy to non-essentials to the prejudice of the really important things that it would take a very strong broom to sweep them away. The general result of all these obstacles was that thousands and thousands of useless mouths were devouring the supplies which had been collected with great effort in the region occupied by the fighting forces. The depot did nothing for the supplies, but, on the other hand, lived on them, and the most serious point was that the moment was at hand when the areas from which the supplies were drawn would have to be evacuated by the fighting forces. It was a difficult situation. It was necessary to lose no time in putting under cultivation the territory we were then occupying—that is to say, the country round Madaba and Livale, and in the southern parts of the Protectorate, which were likely to be the scene of the subsequent operations. But months must elapse before any results could be obtained from these measures. During these months we should have to remain on the Rufigi and live there. Here, it is true, some hundreds of acres of maize were standing, but even these would require months to ripen. Until this time came the force could not move south; it would have to remain in the unproductive area which it was then occupying.

The accomplishment of this task was difficult. The order had at once to be given for the removal of every man who was not absolutely indispensable for carrying on the war during the next few months. This meant that thousands of bearers and workmen in the line-of-communication area were sent home. The most serious drawback to this step had to be reckoned with; we were sending over to the enemy thousands of men from whom he was bound to gain detailed information as to our strength, the condition of our supplies and our internal organization. Nor was it enough to cut down the _personnel_ of our lines of communication. The non-combatant _personnel_ of the companies was also reduced. Among other things, it was laid down that henceforward no European should have more than five native attendants. That sounds a generous allowance to European ears, but under African conditions native attendance is really indispensable to the European. He requires at least one man or boy to cook for him and attend to his personal needs, and, in addition, it must be remembered that all baggage, kit, rations, blankets and tent-material, has to be carried whenever he moves. When one considers that in peace-time a travelling official on a long _safari_ (journey) took with him from eleven to thirteen bearers, in addition to two or three personal servants, it will be understood how drastic this new order was and what a storm of indignation it aroused. Fortunately I was in a position, when appealed to on grounds of health and decency, to point to the fact that I myself had for months managed with three, or at a pinch two, loads—that is, four negroes—and had kept in good health. I am still particularly grateful to those regimental officers who, as on so many other occasions, saw the necessity of this vexatious regulation and set the example. They upheld the tradition of our officer-corps by not claiming any special comforts for themselves, and were the first to submit to the unavoidable discomfort. I believe that among all the soldiers and non-combatants up to the highest civilian official, there is not one who still condemns this order, at first so strongly opposed.

But reduction of the number of food-consumers alone was not sufficient to solve the problem of existence; the supplies would not go round. It was already obvious that the supplies from the area of the fighting force, which were, of course, being worked at high pressure, would not suffice to feed us until the new harvest at the end of March. After close and mature consideration, we found it impossible to avoid the necessity of cutting down the rations, a measure which went very much against the grain, as even the native, if he is to be relied on, must be well fed. This gave rise to a fresh and much stronger outburst of indignation. From all sides came telegrams and messages to say that it was impossible to get the calories of nourishment necessary for a fighting man from the daily cereal ration, fixed at six hundred grammes of meal. But the hard fact had to be faced that only a certain quantity was available, and we must make the best of it. The reduction of the cereal ration could not be avoided. For the rest, each man and each company would have to try to make good the shortage by hunting, which in this region, where game abounded, could be managed with the exercise of a little agility. But logic is apt to go to pieces with many people when it comes to a question of daily food, and many did not scruple to lay the whole blame for the at times barely sufficient ration at the door of the wicked commander-in-chief, and even to do all they could to have the daily ration increased to its former amount. This I had to bear calmly, and I made my own observations as to who were the men to make the best of an unavoidable necessity and who were not.

In carrying out these drastic measures new difficulties were encountered. A crowd of Askari women had followed the force, and had attached themselves to various camps on the Rufiji, where they were very comfortable. I was most anxious to send them south, where the question of supplies was less difficult. The necessary transport was arranged for, and the women were given rations for the march. After one short day’s march, however, the women simply lay down, and declared that they could go no further. Their rations, which were intended to last a considerable time, were all eaten by the third day, and they were crying out for more. Some even went so far as to attack and beat the European who was in charge of the transport. Even under a dark skin the gentler sex did not always scruple to make full use of their prerogatives, which are usually justified.

Finally we got over this difficulty, and a tolerable solution was found to the ration problem. The Askari, to whom the position was explained, saw the difficulty and were very reasonable. Skilled hunters were sent to the different hunting-grounds, and the empty stomachs from time to time more generously filled. I remember that with us on Lake Utungi our two hundred blacks in one day completely devoured a big buffalo and an elephant. It was often found possible to give a piece of antelope to the passing caravans of bearers.

In the course of February the stores in our supply dumps, of which I took stock every day, ran out. I began to fear that for reasons of supply we would not be able to wait for the ripening of the corn on the Rufiji. In that case, not only would the harvest be lost, but the crops growing further south could not be used to the best advantage. There we should have to use the grain that was actually ripe and pass on, leaving the unripe portion standing. A lucky chance came to my aid in this dilemma. I went one day from Lake Utungi to Mpanganya to see Captain Tafel, who was handling the tactical and commissariat problems there with admirable efficiency. I spent the night in his camp, and he set before me an excellent dish of young maize prepared like asparagus. This led us to speak of the maize fields of Mpanganya and the neighbourhood. These were full of women and other natives who had swarmed over them like a flock of birds, and were living on the young, unripe corn. This was as bad economy as well could be, but it gave me the idea that in case of need the maize crops could be largely used before they were ripe. This need very soon occurred, and an experiment with the ears which had ripened most showed that these could be artificially dried and a very good meal made from them. After this, the ripest ears were gathered daily, and as the whole crop ripened the food situation improved from day to day. By 1st March it was found possible to increase the ration to seven hundred grammes, or nearly the normal allowance.

The increasing severity of the whole campaign called for a more intensive and energetic exploitation of our food resources; the slow, deliberate supply methods of the civil authorities, which had sufficed for the first phase of the campaign, were no longer adequate. Twice, at Kissaki and on the Rufiji I had been put in a most difficult position with regard to supplies, which had almost made it impossible to carry on the operations. A more efficient supply service which would know the military needs, look ahead and work more quickly and energetically was a vital necessity for the further carrying on of the campaign. Fortunately I was able to convince the Governor on this point, and, as a result, a new supply detachment was raised from the force, and sent ahead to Massassi, via Livale. They established several subsidiary detachments, which were attached to the administrative stations in the Lindi area, and in this way worked side by side with the civil authorities in organizing, and, later, in carrying out, the cultivation and storing of food. In this way the desired impregnation of the supplies and transport service with the necessary military spirit was completely attained.

At this time there was no appreciable shortage of kit, and there was also an adequate supply of arms and ammunition.

With a view to the envelopment of the enemy at Mkalinzo, where he was reported to be in strong force, Captain Otto had marched his detachment south from Kungulio. North of Mawa he covered the fertile area of Madaba, and the line of transport and telephone communication running from Lake Utungi, via Mawa to Madaba. On 24th January, 1917, Captain Otto was attacked north of Mawa by several battalions of the Nigerian brigade. The enemy was beaten off with heavy losses and pursued several miles through the bush to an entrenched position, where he took refuge. The troops under Captain Schulz, who had been left behind after our departure from Kibeta, were gradually withdrawn to Ungwara. They had been reinforced and relieved from time to time after the fighting in the region of the Kibeta-Utete-Kissi mountains. Strong enemy forces—identified as an infantry brigade—had followed them. In spite of his numerical superiority, the single engagements were very costly, and for the most part unfavourable for the enemy. Captains von Lieberman, Goering and Koehl, and numerous patrol leaders on many occasions completely routed more than twice their number of Indian or negro troops, and captured rifles, machine guns and ammunition. The long war had produced a large number of capable leaders, and their example, as in the case of Lieutenant Kroeger, who was afterwards killed, roused unbounded enterprise and daring. Over and over again, and without stopping to ask the strength of the opposing force, this officer, followed by a handful of men with fixed bayonets and cheering loudly, had charged the enemy in the thick of the bush. He had even trained the Askari. Several of these distinguished themselves as patrol leaders, and when later the brave Effendi, of the 4th Field Company, with his patrol, routed an entire Indian company, we owed the success to this training at Ungwara.

Our line of communication to the south, passing through Madeba and Livale, was in danger from a strong enemy force west of Kibata, and it was necessary that we should afford it adequate protection. This meant a gradual move south of our forces from the Rufiji, especially as our supplies on this part of the river were coming to an end and the rainy season was at hand.

It was particularly important that we should not evacuate this part of the Rufiji until the rains had set in. This would mean a considerable gain in time for us, as, during the actual rainy season and immediately after, the operations would, of necessity, come to a standstill, and the corn, particularly the _mtema_ (millet), would have time to ripen.

When the migrations of the ants warned us that the rains were at hand, orders were given, as a precautionary measure, that the women, children and non-combatants should as far as possible be transferred to the north bank of the Rufiji, and thence transported to Dar-es-Salaam. This step, which the approaching rains and the state of the supplies made necessary, aroused much discontent, which I was obliged to treat with the same indifference as the previous outbursts of indignation. I am, however, still of the opinion that the timely removal of these people was much better for them than spending part of the rainy season on the drenched ground or in flooded dwellings with insufficient food.

The rains, which set in at the end of March, were particularly heavy in 1917. The site of our camp, which was slightly elevated, became an island, from which access to the outer world was only possible by boat through the Rufiji wood. A number of people were drowned in the wood during the rains; others had to take refuge for days in the trees. The water rose so high that in Mpanganya it reached the high-lying dwellings of the Europeans, and invaded the hospitals and disturbed every kind of filth. It was impossible for women and children, sick and wounded to remain, and after the withdrawal of the troops they had to give themselves up to the English, who took pity on their need, and provided them with food and transport.

The majority of the troops marched south out of the flooded districts on the Rufiji and Lake Utungi in good time, after using up the available crops almost to the last grain. The evacuation was carried out gradually and in echelon; the greater part of the troops were assembled in Mpotora, which was occupied by Captain Rothe, in a fortified camp, with his two companies which had defeated the Portuguese at Nevala. Only a few small detachments were left on the Rufiji, and these were gradually reduced to the strength of patrols. Four days’ march east of Madaba the detachments of Koehl and Goering had the opportunity of some successful skirmishes against enemy detachments on the western edge of the Matumbi Mountains. Gradually, however, all these detachments were brought to Mpotora, and only Captain Otto remained in the higher regions of Madaba.