2 March 1904
A bigger expedition to the Kuiseb had been planned, it was anticipated that it would eventually last between two and three weeks. All preparations were made, and at seven o’clock in the evening we moved off. There were two mounted field companies leading the column, formed of fifty troopers under Oberleutnant Ritter, I was in charge of the first company, and the second was under the command of Leutnant Oswald. Next came four guns under Leutnant Samuelsen and Leutnant Rümann[38] then a Seebataillon company commanded by Hauptmann Scheering. and a new Schutztruppe company under Hauptmann Puder.[39] In total we were 250 men, with Hauptmann Puder in overall command. About one hour’s ride from Barmen we stopped and waited for the rest of the column, remaining there until dawn.
3 March 1904
At six in the morning the mounted troops rode at full gallop into Barmen and found it abandoned by the enemy. Two hours later the infantry arrived, with seven ox-waggons bearing provisions and ammunition, guns, a field ambulance and so on, and we decided to camp at the fort. At two o’clock that afternoon, Oberltn. Ritter, eight men and I were sent forward to Klein-Barmen for reconnaissance. We rode about twelve kilometres, checking out each cliff and mountain with the greatest caution, until we found fresh tracks of Herero and cattle at one location in the bed of a river. On foot, three of us explored the area until we could be entirely certain that we were very close to the enemy. We made our way back to Barmen, arriving at half-past seven, and spent the night making preparations to move off the next morning.
4 March 1904
We marched off at five in the morning, once more the mounted troops rode in front, with Oberltn. Ritter and me leading the detachment. We went ahead in absolute silence, but scouts reported that the cliffs from which we took such heavy fire on 19 February were empty. At Rosenthal’s Farm we branched off to the left, riding straight across the river-bed, and began to ascend the steep hill on the other side until we joined the road to Okahandja. To the right of this road are tall mountains stretching out towards Klein-Barmen. It was here that the fight occurred on 19 February resulting in the loss of one of the marines. After searching for a while we found the remains of his body and covered it with large stones, as burial without a spade was impossible in the hard ground. Here I should point out that the Hereros always take the dead and rob the bodies straightaway. They usually mutilate them by cutting off the genitals. Those who are only wounded and cannot retreat are clubbed to death with knobkerries, a beastly death. If you happen to be wounded when on patrol or in a battle then, rather than fall into the hands of these animals, the usual idea is that you save the last bullet for yourself.
We took the route shown in the sketch below:
At point A the road crossed over another small river, and on the right hand side the cliffs and mountains appeared closer and closer to the road. At point B we stopped briefly and Ritter and I used binoculars to scan the high ground without seeing a trace of any Hereros. We carried on trotting slowly, observing acutely and listening to every sound, until we arrived at about point C, where the cliffs directly overlooked a bend in the road. Suddenly there was a ‘Bang! Bang!’ and two shots right into the middle of our column. My horse reared straight up, and I felt certain that it would be shot. For a moment everything was still, then I saw rifle after rifle blazing at us from out of the cliffs only about fifty metres away. A glance backwards showed that it was impossible for us to retreat, as we were also under fire from behind, and just then the black devils came running from the entire length of the mountains like a swarm of ants.
There was just one command: “To the left, and keep riding!” To the left of the road was dense thorn bush, strewn with loose stones and large rocks. We had neither seen nor anticipated that on the right we would be greeted by a line of Hereros shooting at us from a ledge. It was just a case of getting through and finding cover. Our situation was terrifying, and it is a miracle that so many of us escaped. The thick bush ripped away both of my stirrups, and I had one of the sleeves of my coat torn straight off. I lost my seating as we jumped over bushes and rocks; hanging down on the left side of the horse, and had to pull myself back up into the saddle by grabbing onto her mane. A riderless horse galloped alongside me; at exactly the same moment I grasped its reins, my own horse collapsed under me—fatally hit by a bullet. My luck in catching the second horse continued until finally we all gathered behind an outcrop about two metres in height and about ten metres long. Before I could dismount, my second horse crashed to the ground; so I had lost two horses shot under me in less than five minutes. Just then I got lucky when three more horses without riders trotted past on the loose, so I claimed my third horse of the morning. We immediately opened fire on the enemy.
When I counted my men I noticed with horror that of thirty of us, eighteen were missing: dead or taken cover, who could say? And then once again a dense firing-line of about one hundred Hereros approached from the right flank, shouting furiously at us. We were coming under fire from the left, and were thus blocked in on three sides. It was impossible for us to stay behind such sparse defences, so we mounted our horses again and galloped over the wide, unsheltered riverbed up to a small hill which lay on the opposite bank.
As we rode away the Hereros called after us in German, “You’re out of luck now!” On the hilltop we found good cover for our horses in the dense bush; two men stayed to guard the horses, the rest of us arranged ourselves in a semicircle around the edge of the hill and immediately opened heavy fire on the enemy following us. For two hours we lay there, holding the enemy at bay until the first artillery shell crashed into the mountains and we knew that the main detachment had arrived. The two companies were coming to relieve us. We gained a breathing space, because the Hereros surrounding us retreated back to their comrades in the mountains. As the battle developed, the artillery pounded the high ground; as soon as the enemy moved positions he came under fire from our infantry, and must have suffered very heavy losses. They sent a gun up to join us, because we were in a good, commanding position, and Rickmann and Stabsarzt Dempwolff[40] also came to our position. Ritter was surprised to find me alive; one of our troopers, who had made his way back to the main column, reported that the leading troops had been killed in the ambush. In the meantime, another five of our riders were discovered on foot, their horses having been shot under them.
We had orders to occupy the hilltop, to cover the left flank of the enemy, and to gradually move down the hill to the riverbed. The Hereros also moved from peak to peak on the left, occupying the high ground opposite us. The battle lasted seven hours, to two o’clock in the afternoon, when the enemy retreated in headlong flight, and the infantry companies occupied the two highest peaks facing us.
Then came orders from Hauptmann Puder that we should ride towards the left and eventually break through the Herero forces and cut off their cattle. That was unfeasible, because we were only twelve men; and we still had to provide cover for the passage of the ox-waggons, as they would otherwise have fallen into Herero hands. I therefore had to convey an appropriate reply to Puder.
After a long search I finally tracked him down on top of a mountain with the infantry companies. After getting further orders I rode back. It was a long road, and it had been a good hour since I first rode along it. Ritter had gone further on with the other riders—devil knows where—and I was riding on my own opposite the hills occupied by the enemy. Suddenly two shots went right past my head. I leaped off the horse and responded to this greeting with a few shots of my own, then quickly jumped back on and cut across to the right at a gallop. I caught up with the seven ox-waggons at the river crossing. On the other side of the river I found five of our missing troopers; three joined me, and I left the two men who had no horses to ride in the ox-cart. After we had ridden about half an hour we met the field ambulance with two medical officers and some of our troopers; and Oberleutn. Ritter showed up at the same moment with the rest of our company. By counting and roll-call it was established that no
body knew anything of the fate of five of our troopers: Unteroffizier Valenziak, Saar, Zöllner, Gefreiter Mockita and Reiter Amft, were missing. Only Unteroffz. Saar had been reported as dead.[41] The infantry and guns were about half-an-hour’s ride ahead of us. As the battle was now over, they had set up camp beside the water below a small hill.
In order to determine the fate of our five men, whether they were dead or wounded, we sixteen remaining riders were ordered to turn round and go back. We had to return to the trap, where we were first fired on. We rode back to the first hilltop we had occupied, left the horses tied up, and went with our rifles in our hands down to the site of the ambush. After an hour of searching we had found all five men—dead. All were stripped naked and mutilated. Four of them had died after being shot in the head; only poor Zöllner had been horribly singled-out: battered with knobkerries, mutilated, with one arm entirely torn off and laid across his body. I cannot describe how we felt. Our little mounted company of thirty men had paid the price today. Five men dead; two men wounded and fourteen horses killed. What was more, the other companies had had no men killed or injured.
After we had buried the dead as best we could, Ritter said a few words and a short prayer and we fired three volleys over the graves. We went quietly to the horses and rode silently to the encampment, where we arrived at five o’clock that afternoon.
5 March 1904
Early in the morning near the camp we liberated fifty head of small livestock and as many again of cattle, which in their desperate haste the Hereros had not been able to take with them. At three in the afternoon the expedition began to move off again, with our riders (now twenty men strong using the spare horses) at the forefront.
At a quick gallop we headed past Klein-Barmen to the farm Snyrivier, which turned out to be free of the enemy. Here again everything had been destroyed or looted. Behind the house we found the bodies of the owners,[42] murdered and mutilated by the black villains, and buried them. While awaiting the arrival of the remainder of the expedition, we constructed a kraal for the horses and trek oxen and put the water-pump back up in its place by the well. The entire column camped here.
6 March 1904
At four o’clock in the morning a patrol from Puder’s company under Leutnant von Rosenberg went out to explore the area together with two Boers who knew the local area. The patrol came at back at eight o’clock with the news that a large group of Hereros with cattle was sitting south of the Swakop river.
To lead successful attack would have needed at least three times the troop strength, and it was therefore decided to leave the band undisturbed, and to strengthen Okahandja first. Staying and waiting any longer at Snyrivier was pointless because it would have wasted provisions, so it was agreed to move on to the railway line at Okasise. We left at two in the afternoon. The enemy was behind us, therefore we formed the column back-to-front, and Ritter and I rode last of the entire company. An hour later we were on Otjiruse, one of the most beautiful places in Hereroland, and a tenanted farm with beautiful pasture and good water. The horses and oxen drank, and four o’clock the column set off again.
Ritter and I fancied a schnapps, so we told the commissary, who was travelling in comfort on an oxcart, that we had had terrible stomach cramps, and managed to con him out of two bottles of rum before setting up camp for the night at seven o’clock.
7 March 1904
We set out at five in the morning, but the column began to falter after a waggon overturned on the steep road. Once again we rode at the head of the column, and sped to Fahlwater at full gallop, arriving at ten o’clock. There was a government building there as well as a house and store belonging to the Talaska family, farmers. The houses were still there, but everything inside had been stolen; the owners had fled in time. It rained in the afternoon and evening, so I became sick. With terrible stomach cramps.
8 March 1904
At eight in the morning we arrived at Okasise. Oberst Leutwein was coming from Karibib and was expected within the hour. Then a message came from Okahandja to say that Chief Samuel Maherero was at Otjisazu with 4,000 Hereros.
When Leutwein arrived he was delighted to find us at Okasise, and ordered the immediate return of all troops to Okahandja. The foot soldiers were transported by railway; the ox-waggons would take two days’ march to get to Okahandja, guarded by marching infantry on the way; while the troops on horseback were ordered to arrive in Okahandja that night. We set off at two o’clock, with ten mules pulling field guns following us. Soon after setting off there was a heavy storm, and a terrible downpour that lasted to Waldau, where we arrived at 5pm. We only stopped at Waldau to let the animals drink, and then we carried on at a sharp pace, so we were in Okahandja by nine that night.
Our quarters had already been occupied, and so, wet as we were, we had to spend the night on the open verandah of the fort, sleeping on our saddles. Luckily we were so tired that we slept well anyway. None of us had a dry stitch on our bodies; our riding boots had water inside, and the men’s army boots were filled to the top with water. The journey from Fahlwater to Okasise to Okahandja is seventy-eight kilometers long, and in pouring rain it wasn’t exactly a pleasure trip.
9 March 1904
In the morning there was a major reorganisation of the entire garrison and a march past in front of the governor, Oberst Leutwein.
As there were no more big military operations to be undertaken in the immediate future, and there were ample new troops from Germany available for disposal, the assembled reservists were discharged. For the time being I was allocated to the military supply headquarters at Swakopmund.
10 March 1904
I slowly made my way by train.
12 March 1904
I arrived in Swakopmund at eleven o’clock.
13 March 1904
In the morning I reported to Oberleutnant von Zülow at the military supply headquarters, where I served as Adjutant until my final release on 25 March.
After the Herero War
After returning to Swakopmund I was drafted into the service of the garrison commander. For two months I had military duties each morning, but was free to pursue my job at the Company for the rest of the day. Business was booming in Swakopmund, and Rheede sometimes had as many as twenty steamers bringing troop transports, equipment and food from Germany; and oxen, horses, mules and food supplies from Cape Town.
With the transport of animals a lot of shady characters came from the Union,[43] and fights, robberies and shootings in the streets were soon so bad that one could no longer go out unarmed at night.
Even in my room, in the upper floors of the exhibition building, one such drunken individual came at night, when I was fast asleep, apparently with the intention of enquiring as to my well-being. As I wasn’t used to such kindness, I leaped out of bed and sent him flying with a punch in the mouth and a kick in the belly, so that he fell backwards through the doorway and tumbled back down the full length of the staircase.
As the mole built in Swakopmund in 1901 began to silt up, it was no longer sufficient for the landing operation. As a result a German engineering company built, in a very short time, a wooden jetty extending two hundred metres into the sea.
In January 1904 Spitzkopje was overrun by the Hereros, who looted the farm and murdered the local manager. In mid-August 1904 I was to ride there to evaluate what remained. I was to go alone, accompanied only by a native. This was a bit risky, because since the scattered Hereros roamed around pretty much everywhere, I had to assume that they were safely entrenched among the fine pasture and ample water that Spitzkopje enjoyed, thanks to the plentiful rain that year.
An opportunity arose, as Chief Engineer Tönnissen of the Otavi Mines and Railway Company had to go to Spitzkopje in order to make astronomical calculations. He persuaded the military headquarters to fit him out with a four-man military escort under the command of Oberleutnant Freiherr von Fritsch, together with a four-span mule cart. Tönnissen and I had superb horses, and the driver of the patrol c
ouldn’t keep up with us, so we two always rode far ahead. When we arrived alone at Spitzkopje, we discovered the nest was empty. The house was in excellent condition, but everything inside had been destroyed or looted. I found the remains of our murdered manager and quickly buried him on the farm. After two days, we rode back through Usakos to Karibib, and from there I returned back by train to Swakopmund.
As well as good commercial trade, 1905 and 1906 brought for Swakopmund and Lüderitzbucht numerous freehold property sales, which all had to be recorded by a notary in Swakopmund, and caused a lot of work. Our own construction department had been established by the Company under an architect and master builder sent from Germany. It employed many white artisans and natives, and built the first massive buildings from cement bricks and concrete; and the place soon began to look like a city.
New companies came to the country, shops and bars sprung out of the ground like mushrooms, and cabarets and music-hall came to Swakopmund. Money was earned and spent; and drinking sessions lasted through the night. In short: the place came to life.
In August and September 1906 I had to undertake an eight-week Schutztruppe Reserve Officer exercise, based at the Fourth Field Company in Otavifontein. The Herero war was more or less over, with the Hereros beaten and scattered in the great battle of Waterberg.
At the time, the companies in my exercise were commanded by military headquarters to return to their bases, and officers ordered to undertake constant patrols to disarm the stragglers still occupying Herero lands, and disperse them. The last two years in Swakopmund had brought a lot of hard work, often until late at night, so I saw these military exercises as a relaxing holiday. When the C.O., Hauptmann Hinsch, and his officers (who had only been in the country for a year) found out that I was an ‘old Africa hand’, a veteran of the Herero campaign and local expert, I received a warm reception and spent many pleasant hours in their circle.
The Autobiography of Eugen Mansfeld Page 7