Wilmshurst of the Frontier Force

by Percy F. Westerman

There are parts of Africa which are still described as the Dark Continent—wild, desolate stretches where a man can disappear without leaving the faintest trace of the manner of his presumed death, while in German East there were unscrupulous despots—the disciples of atrocious kultur—only too ready to condemn an Englishman without even the farcical formality of a court-martial.

Already events had proved that Rupert Wilmshurst's statement was well-founded. In her African colonies, in Kiau-Chau, and elsewhere for years past Germany had been assiduously preparing for The Day. Under the firm but erroneous impression that Great Britain would have her hands full in connection with affairs at home, that the Boers in South Africa would revolt and that the Empire would fall to pieces at the declaration of war between England and Germany, the Hun in Africa had prepared huge stores of munitions and trained thousands of native troops with the intention of wresting the adjoining ill-defended territories from their owners.

No wonder that the Huns hugged themselves with delight when by a disastrous stroke of statesmanship Great Britain exchanged the crumbling island of Heligoland for some millions of square miles of undeveloped territory hitherto held by Germany. While Heligoland was being protected by massive concrete walls and armed by huge guns to form a practically impregnable bulwark to the North Sea coast of Germany, England was by peaceful methods developing her new African acquisition. Germany could then afford to wait until the favourable opportunity and by force of arms seize and hold the territory that was once hers and which in the meantime had enormously increased commercially at the expense of Britain.

But the Kaiser had miscalculated the loyalty of the colonies. Canada, South Africa, Australia, and New Zealand, to say nothing of smaller offshoots of the Empire, had rallied to the flag. Boers who fourteen years previously had fought doggedly and determinedly against England volunteered for service, and their offer was accepted for expeditions against German West Africa and then against German East, while shoulder to shoulder with their late enemies were Imperial troops, including Indian and West African contingents. Amongst the reinforcements from the latter was the Nth West African Regiment.

By six o'clock breakfast was over and the troops were falling in for parade and C.O.'s inspection. As Second Lieutenant Wilmshurst crossed the dusty barrack "square," which was a rectangle enclosed on three sides by the native huts and on the fourth by the Quartermaster's "stores" and orderly room, he found that the men of his platoon were already drawn up in full marching order. At the sight of their young officer—for it was the first time for several weeks that Wilmshurst had appeared on parade—a streak of dazzling ivory started and stretched from end to end of the line as the Haussas' mouths opened wide in welcoming smiles, displaying a lavish array of teeth that contrasted vividly with their ebony features.

That Wilmshurst was popular with his men there could be no doubt. Had it been otherwise not a suspicion of a smile would have appeared upon their faces. The subaltern had the knack of handling African troops, and without that knack an officer might just as well transfer elsewhere. Firmness, strict impartiality, and consideration for the welfare of the men under his orders had been rewarded by a whole-hearted devotion on the part of the blacks to "Massa Wilmst," while every man had the satisfaction that he was known by name to the junior subaltern.

The company officer had not yet put in an appearance, but the platoon commanders and their subordinates were engaged either in discussing impending plans or else minutely examining their men's equipment, lest the eagle eye of the C.O. should detect some deficiency during the forthcoming inspection.

"All correct, sergeant?" enquired Wilmshurst, addressing a tall Haussa, Bela Moshi by name.

The sergeant saluted smartly, replying, with a broad smile, that everything was in order. A child by nature, Bela Moshi had developed into a smart and efficient soldier without losing the simple characteristics of the African native. He was a first-class marksman, although it had required long and patient training to get him to understand the use of sights and verniers and to eradicate the belief, everywhere prevalent amongst savage races, that to raise the backsight to its highest elevation results in harder hitting by the bullet.

Bela Moshi was smart with the machine-gun, too, while for scouting and tracking work there were few who equalled him. The regiment was father and mother to the ebon warrior, while of all the officers Wilmshurst was his special favourite.