My Reminiscences of East Africa

by Paul Emil von Lettow-Vorbeck

Our artillery ammunition had already been exhausted with the exception of a few rounds for the two mountain guns and some Portuguese ammunition. Our last field-howitzer, as well as the English gun captured at Mahiwa, had burst. The last two 10·5 cm. guns from the Königsberg had been destroyed a few days before. On the day after a German mountain gun had been destroyed and sunk at Kitangari. We were thus left with one German and one Portuguese mountain gun. During the last few months the lack of artillery ammunition had been so serious that we had rarely more than three hundred rounds all told. That was about the allowance per engagement for one of the numerous English guns.

Under such circumstances an attack could only promise success if the situation was exceptionally favourable. This was never the case. The patrols were kept active, and the enemy harassed as much as possible, but otherwise there was nothing left but for General Wahle’s force and the 11th Field Company, which had been left at Mnacho to bring away the supplies, gradually to give way before the pressure of the enemy and retire to Chiwata. On 10th November the Ndanda mission, immediately in the rear of General Wahle, who was at Nangoo, was surprised by a strong enemy force and captured. The field-hospital quartered there, and part of our stores, fell into the enemy’s hands. Lieberman’s force, south of Ndanda, ensured the retreat of General Wahle’s force, which ascended to the Makonda plateau, by the road south-east of Nangoo, the road I had reconnoitred on 7th November, and, by crossing the plateau diagonally to Chiwata, escaped from the enemy’s trap. The 11th Company also found its way to Chiwata from Mnacho, so that, with the exception of Captain Tafel’s Detachment and some small bodies of troops further south, the whole force was concentrated at Chiwata. The gradual transport of our supplies from Chiwata east to Nambindinga had begun, and with that our march to Kitangari. Meanwhile I kept an anxious look-out for a vulnerable point in one of the enemy columns. On the 14th November I thought I had discovered one.

A strong enemy column, to which belonged the 10th South African Mounted Infantry, had passed close to our position while marching from Lukuledi via Massassi, and had attacked Mwiti, two hours’ march south of Chiwata. In this place, which until then had been only weakly held, Lieberman’s force (three companies) had arrived the day before. In spite of the shortage of ammunition there was, I thought, a chance that by unexpectedly throwing into the fight Koehl’s force from Chiwata, this enemy might be defeated separately. I was, however, very busy with the preparations for the withdrawal to Nambindinga and unfortunately let the opportunity at Mwiti pass without taking advantage of it.

There was nothing for it, then, but to retire gradually to Nambindinga.

Through the evacuation of Chiwata the European prisoners, as well as the Indians, who had been carried to the hospital, and the hospital itself, full for the most part of seriously wounded, fell into the enemy’s hands. The march to Nambindinga was carried out under continuous fighting between the 15th and 17th November. I wanted to make the enemy complete the concentric march of his columns, advancing north-west and south, so as to effect a junction; then, when the enemy’s masses were helplessly crowded on a narrow area, I could march where I liked. On November 17th I had to take a fateful decision at Nambindinga. The continual bush-fighting was threatening to consume all our ammunition. It would have been madness to go on with this fighting, which could not bring about a favourable decision. We had therefore to withdraw.

The supply question pointed the same way. Only by a drastic reduction of strength could we carry on with the stores in hand. Our supply area had been narrowed, fresh requisitioning had been interfered with by the enemy, and the produce of the land exhausted. The supply of quinine would last the Europeans a month longer. After the consumption of this the Europeans would certainly fall victims to malaria and its attendant evils; they would no longer be able to contend with the rigours of a tropical campaign. Only by reducing the number of Europeans to a minimum could enough quinine be ensured for each man to enable us to carry on the operations for months.

At the same time we had to reduce our total strength. Our large force with little ammunition was of less value in the field than a smaller number of picked men with plenty of ammunition. It amounted to the reduction of our strength to about 2,000 rifles, including not more than 2,000 Europeans. All above this number had to be left behind. It could not be helped that among the several hundred Europeans and 600 Askari that we were compelled to leave behind in the hospital at Nambindinga, there were men who would have liked to go on fighting and were physically fit to do so. Unfortunately, it must be admitted that among those who were left behind at Nambindinga, even among the Europeans, there were many who were not unwilling to lay down their arms. It is, however, worthy of mention that not only the majority of the Europeans, but also many Askari, were bitterly disappointed at having to remain. We had repeatedly to refuse the request of a brave Askari that he might come and fight for us. But when, two days later, Lieutenant Grundmann, though severely wounded and scarcely able to walk, reported himself, saying that he could not, in spite of orders, bring himself to surrender, I have seldom been so pleased as at this breach of discipline. It may be mentioned here that in general the enemy, as far as I am in a position to judge, treated our prisoners with humanity, but it seems to me that he was anxious to convict us of cruelty to English prisoners, perhaps in order to justify reprisals, perhaps for other reasons. Lieutenant Cutsch had been left sick in Nandanda, and fell into the enemy’s hands. On the totally unfounded and unproved evidence of a negro that Lieutenant Cutsch had on one occasion, when commanding a patrol, burned to death a wounded Englishman, he was put in irons and sent by sea to Dar-es-Salaam, being imprisoned during the voyage just outside the ship’s roundhouse. At Dar-es-Salaam he was locked up for several weeks in the prison without a trial. When at last he was tried, it came out that the charge of senseless cruelty rested purely on the lying evidence of the negro. Again, General Deventer informed me that Captain Naumann, who had surrendered near Kilima Njaro, had been tried for murder. He, too, as I heard later, was kept imprisoned for a long time without a hearing, until his innocence was finally established. I find it all the more difficult to understand this mockery of justice, as the English prisoners were always humanely treated by us, and were often better cared for materially than our own people.[5]

These decisions placed the conduct of the war on an entirely different basis. Hitherto we had stored the supplies in dumps and for the most part had been able to satisfy our demands from these; the ammunition also had been maintained from stores. This system had laid us more open to attack and offered the enemy points of attack which we could not protect. But by the methods adopted hitherto it had been possible to keep the troops in the field at great strength, considering our position, and to employ a great part of them on a small area for a considerable period. It had further been possible to give a permanent character, at any rate to some of our hospitals, where sick and wounded could recuperate in peace, and in this way we could fill the gaps in our front with refreshed and experienced men. This system had made our operations dependent to a great extent on the situation of the supplies and reinforcements, and had hindered freedom of movement. The advantage, however, in our position of being able to employ strong troops and with them successfully to engage, and often defeat decisively, superior enemy forces was so great that I held to this system as long as it was at all possible.

It was now no longer possible, and the advantages I have mentioned had to be sacrificed under the pressure of necessity. It was certainly questionable whether the reduced force could be maintained without supply dumps, and without reinforcements the prospect of remaining, after twelve days in the plains, with five thousand hungry negroes and without supplies was not attractive. Should we succeed in satisfying those requirements of the force which could not be obtained on the spot, especially ammunition and arms, by means of capture from the enemy—for the only possibility of renewing our supplies lay in capturing the enemy’s—in sufficient quantities to make the continuation of the war possible? That was the all-important question. If we succeeded, however, in maintaining the force on the new territory the increased independence and mobility, used with determination against the less mobile enemy, would give us a local superiority in spite of the great numerical superiority of the enemy. In the unlimited territory at our disposal it would be possible to withdraw from unfavourable positions. The enemy would be compelled to keep an enormous amount of men and material continually on the move, and to exhaust his strength to a greater extent proportionately than ourselves. There was also the prospect of tying down strong enemy forces and protracting the operations indefinitely if—my forecast proved correct. This was at that time doubtful, but the risk had to be taken.