TRYING FIGHT AT BEHOBEHO
F. C. SELOUS KILLED IN ACTION
Meantime, having cut on to the track very close to the village of Behobeho—which we later learned harboured a large German camp—a lively action soon developed with forces entrenched before the village. Directly north of the level ground on which Behobeho is situated, there are some low, gravel-covered ridges, facing the village, and those we advanced on to, and there a line was established, while fierce fighting continued for some hours, with our men lying on the almost red-hot ground of the ridge crests, beneath a scorching, merciless sun. Men who had been exposed to African sun for nigh on two years, and were skin-hardened and browned to the colour of leather, nevertheless suffered serious sunburn, and were blistered and peeled like delicately skinned children, on the following day, so great had been the heat reflected from the white gravel crystals on which they had lain. It was a trying fight in other uncommon ways, for, though we were in fair positions against the enemy before the village, we were fully exposed to sniping from the tall trees which shaded the village, and we suffered a considerable part of our casualties on that account. It was here that Captain Selous was killed, when commanding his company in attack. His death caused a deep-felt whisper of gravity and regret to pass along the line of faithful soldiers, who loved him in uncommon manner, as their officer and as their grand old fearless man. Here occurred an incident which speaks volumes for Selous’s understanding of natives—on the just consideration of whom he held strong opinions, and a broad generous view of kindliness toward untutored humanity in any form, tempered with the latent authority of a strong man. When Selous was killed, his native servant, Ramazani—who had been a gun-bearer of Selous’s before the war—was overcome with grief and swore to avenge his master’s death, and through the remainder of the engagement he exposed himself in absolute fearlessness in his grim rage against the foe. At the end of the day he claimed with conviction that he had killed the man who had killed his master. About 4 p.m. Behobeho was occupied, and the enemy in full retreat to Rufiji, which was now but another day’s march farther on. Later in the evening the eastern column, which had had severe fighting in dislodging the enemy from entrenched positions on the road farther back, joined our force here. At Behobeho Captain Selous and a few of the faithful “lean brown men” were buried in the shade of a great baobab tree. Thus the famous hunter finished a career that had been full of great risks and great adventures, fighting for his country, at the age of sixty-five years—seeing through his last undertaking in Africa as, perhaps, he would have chosen it should be, for this was the continent he had explored the outer frontiers of, more than any other living man, and in the early days, when Africa was “darkest” Africa, and primitive races and strange diseases far more difficult to contend with than they are to-day. Here he had found his life’s work, and had risen to renown; and here, on the soil of Africa, he was destined to die.
The next four days, being wounded, I remained behind, and missed our occupation of the north bank of the great Rufiji River. But bandaged, and fit but for a crippled left “wing,” I was able to rejoin my battalion at Kibambawe, and again take on my machine-gun command, which was otherwise without an officer, since few remained fit at this stage. I found all our forces on the banks of the Rufiji, and dug in against the enemy away across the marsh-banked stream which, from memory, had a width of from 700 to 1,000 yards.
The opposite bank had been subjected to searching machine-gun fire during the first two days, and now the enemy were quiet, and to effect a crossing of our forces we—and also the western column, which had reached Mkalinso—were apparently but waiting the construction of rafts, and the arrival of the row-boats which were being brought up, all this distance inland, from Dar-es-Salaam to surmount the difficulty of bridging this river. However, our battalion remained but three more mildly eventful days on the Rufiji front: then, being relieved, we had to commence a long fourteen days’ march back to Morogoro, there to enter rest-camp, and ultimately, some time later, to be sent from Dar-es-Salaam to South Africa to recuperate for three months at “the Cape.”
The big rains were approaching. It transpired that they broke on 25th January, soon after our forces had crossed and effected a lodgment on the south shores of the Rufiji—and there active operations ended for some months, while the country was deluged with torrential tropical rains.
A dispatch of General Hoskins, then commanding the East Africa Forces—since General Smuts had a few weeks previously been called to the War Cabinet in London—stated:
“By the 27th January the lines of communication from Mikessa (on the Central Railway) to Kibambawe were interrupted by the washing away of bridges and the flooding of roads, and operations in all areas were henceforth seriously hampered by the untimely rains.
“In the Mgeta and Rufiji valleys roads constructed with much skill and labour, over which motor transport ran continually in January, were traversed with difficulty and much hardship a month later by porters wading for miles in water above their waists.”