Tom Willoughby's Scouts: A Story of the War in German East Africa

by Herbert Strang

The bombardment was continued and maintained steadily throughout the day. Some shells fell harmlessly on the steep sides of the nullah, others in the stream or among the bushes some distance up, others on the clearing outside. One struck the barricade, scattering boughs and twigs and making a gap; but none entered the trenches, and no man was hit. By the end of the day the natives had become indifferent to the bombardment, laughing and joking as they watched the smoke and the splinters which did them no harm. With sunset the shelling ceased, and movement in the lower part of the nullah became once more possible. So far, none of the enemy had been seen, and Tom wondered how the gunners had been able to range with even approximate accuracy on their unseen target. He never knew that Major von Rudenheim had not considered the bearing of a flag of truce inconsistent with the taking of careful measurements, by means of which he had fixed on several spots in the forest whence the nullah might be shelled at known ranges.

It seemed to Tom hardly likely that the enemy would attempt a night attack before they had ascertained how much damage their gun had done. Nevertheless, he kept a large number of men under arms all night, relieving them every four hours. Two of the askaris were selected to light the captured flares and throw them over the barricade if the enemy made a move. In the middle of the night Tom snatched a few hours' sleep, leaving Mirambo in command; and when, shortly before dawn, on returning to his post, he learnt that no sounds had been heard from beyond the clearing, he felt sure that not even a reconnaissance had been attempted, or it would have been detected by the negroes' sharp ears.

It was a misty, drizzly morning, and the trees at the edge of the forest two hundred yards south of the nullah loomed through the murk only as a blurred mass. Tom gave orders to his scouts, before they climbed to their watch-posts above, to be specially vigilant. About seven o'clock a shell burst just behind the trench, and three of his men were slightly injured by splinters. The fact that the shell exploded before the boom of the gun was heard, showed that the gunners had drawn nearer during the night. This was the opening of a bombardment that continued for about three hours. Again little damage was done, most of the shells falling many yards behind the barricade.

Suddenly the firing ceased. The scouts, sharp-eyed though they were, had reported no movement among the trees, when there came the shrill blast of a whistle. Tom had posted himself with his men at the barricade, and he was just able to see, through the mist, a compact line of askaris break from cover. There was no attempt at skirmishing; the enemy rushed straight across the clearing towards the mouth of the nullah. Twenty yards behind them came a second line, and with these Tom saw the white helmet of a German officer.

He had given orders that no man was to fire until he sounded his whistle; but it was too much to expect that all his negroes, in the excitement of what was to many of them their first action, would exercise the self-control of disciplined troops. Only one of them, however, let off his rifle, and the single shot, fired at random, was hailed with a derisive yell by the askaris. Tom waited until they were half-way across the clearing; then he blew his whistle. Along the whole length of the barricade burst a shattering volley, not perfectly in time, but aimed low, as Tom had instructed. At so short a range the effect was inevitable. The first line of the assailants was broken; groans mingled with the shouts; the survivors wavered. The German non-commissioned officer from behind ran among them, threatening them with his revolver, and under this stimulus they charged forward, with the second line at their heels.

Now Tom gave the signal for a second volley. The enemy were barely fifty yards away. Many of them dropped; some flung themselves on the ground. The few who struggled on found themselves baulked by the unsuspected moat; and the German having fallen, and no supports being at hand, they turned and fled. Before they reached the cover of the trees another storm of bullets swept upon them.

The Wahehe gave rein to their jubilation. They shouted, pranced, slapped their thighs. Some wished to dash out from the barricade in pursuit of the enemy; but Tom sternly ordered them to stand to attention. He was as much pleased as they were that the first assault had failed; unlike them, he knew that this was only the beginning of things. But it was of good omen for the future. Brief though the engagement had been, it had weakened the enemy in numbers, whether seriously Tom, ignorant of their reserves, could not tell. It had encouraged his own men; best of all, it had proved their steadiness. The three shots they had fired were all that their magazines contained; now that he could trust them not to waste ammunition, he could allow them to keep their magazines full.

For more than an hour there was no sign of a renewal of the attack. Then, however, the bombardment was resumed. It would appear that while the defenders' attention was wholly taken tip with repelling their assailants, some of the enemy, unseen in the rear, must have "spotted" for the gun, for the shells now began regularly to pierce the barricade, exploding on impact, and tearing away masses of the leafy boughs. Crouching at the bottom of the muddy trench, the Wahehe suffered no hurt except bruises and abrasions from splinters of wood and metal; and Tom resolved to have the breaches in the barricade repaired during the night.

But nightfall did not bring a cessation of the bombardment. Every few minutes throughout the night the shells cut new gaps. Work was impossible. Tom guessed that the enemy's object was not merely to prevent repairs, but to wear the defenders out by breaking their rest and keeping them constantly on the watch. In one way, however, the persistent bombardment was a source of satisfaction to him. While the shells continued to fall, there was no likelihood that the enemy would again assault. The prospect of a night attack had caused him much anxiety, for the negro's morale is never at its best in the dark; further, in darkness and confusion the weight of numbers would tell heavily against him.

Tom knew nothing about artillery, and began to feel a certain contempt for the gun, so slight was the material damage done by its shells. It was not, however, a field gun, but a small mountain gun, more easily transportable than a larger weapon. After the bombardment had continued for some hours neither he nor the men were much disturbed by the shell bursts, and he felt more and more confident of his ability to hold his own.