ENCAMPMENTS AND PATROLS
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.