CHAPTER I
ACROSS THE ROVUMA
EARLY in the morning of November 25th, 1917, our advance guard waded across the Rovuma, a little above the Ludjenda confluence; the main force of nine companies followed in the course of the forenoon, the rearguard about two days’ march in the rear. Captain Goering with three companies had crossed much further downstream to surprise a Portuguese camp reported there. We had no news of Captain Tafel, and I thought it probable that he would strike the Rovuma much further west.
The feeling that we were cut off from all support, as well as the absolute uncertainty as to the fate before us, had produced what is popularly known as “allgemeine Wurschtigkeit” (absolute callousness). Undisturbed by the tactical situation, our hunting parties went on with their work, and their shots were, as afterwards transpired, distinctly heard by the enemy.
While crossing the river, many took a careful bath in full view of the enemy; in many cases it required some effort to make clear the requirements of the state of war.
On the south bank we soon came under fire. The company acting as advance guard came upon enemy scouts, several of whom were killed. I employed the next few hours, while the troops gradually came up and covered the crossing of the rest, to reconnoitre. Not far from our front, on the far bank of the Ludjenda river, signals could be heard and men could be seen. We came close to the enemy camp and saw men in white suits moving about, a few hundred yards away. Others were building earthworks and a transport column was also observed. The troops were certainly in great force.
While I was still considering whether, and in what way, a prospect of attack offered, a column of Askari in khaki advanced from the camp towards our troops. About a company of the enemy left the camp. Guessing that the enemy was wisely about to attack our troops with all his force while they were still occupied in crossing the river, I ran back quickly and ordered those of our companies who had crossed first to put themselves in a defensive position. The favourable opportunity I had hoped for did not, however, materialize: the enemy did not come. Thus I was again faced with the question what to do. I was doubtful whether, in view of our large numbers of bearers, it would not be more expedient to march past the enemy stationed here at Ngomano and advance further up the Ludjenda river. Either the enemy would not hinder us, or, if he did, he would have to emerge from his entrenched positions and make up his mind for a difficult attack.
On the other hand, it was not unlikely that an attack by us on the enemy camp would be successful, for its defences were not yet especially strong. Reconnaissance had established that on the far bank of the Ludjenda river a belt of thick wood led right up to the camp and offered the opportunity of surprising the enemy here in strength, and bringing off a decisive attack. I had not yet fully made up my mind when Captain Müller decided me to take that one of the two decisions which, though very risky, offered a prospect of the long awaited decisive success and the capture of ammunition and war material which had become an urgent necessity. No time was to be lost.
The attack was, therefore, made while part of the force was still crossing the river. While our light mountain-gun fired on the enemy’s entrenchments from the west, and while at the same time several companies engaged the enemy on this side as also from the north, Captain Koehl’s detachment crossed the Ludjenda half a mile above Ngomano, marched through the high wood on that bank and made a determined attack on the enemy’s camp from the south. I took up my position on a little hill west of the camp, near our guns. Immediately behind me the last company of General Wahle’s force to cross the river was advancing along a valley. In front I had a fairly good view of the enemy’s entrenched positions. The enemy’s machine guns were not shooting badly, and their fire was at times directed upon our little sand hill, from which I had to send into cover a number of Europeans and Askari, who had collected there immediately and were visible to the enemy. The clear ring of the enemy rifles, which we had heard before, and the absence of trench-mortars, made it probable that the enemy were Portuguese. We had already learned to distinguish clearly between the dull, full detonation of our ’71, the sharp crack of our S-rifle, the double report of the English rifle and the clear ring of the Portuguese rifle of a little over 6 mm. calibre. Even our Askari had noticed at once that in short skirmishes the speed with which the enemy trench-mortars always got the range of our positions had been very harassing.