Thirty-nine captured English officers arrived at Otjiwarongo en route to Namutoni on 19 May. I had to act as an interpreter and provide for their accommodation and guards overnight.
On 20 May the Governor, Dr Seitz, Oberstleutnant Franke, Hauptmann Trainer and an officer acting as an interpreter went by train to Giftkuppe for negotiations there with General Botha for a possible end to hostilities. Treaties collapsed and the conflict continued.
I was fed up with life in Otjiwarongo and tired of the doctoring there, so when my wound was only partially healed I tricked the senior doctor into signing me off as healthy. On 24 May I reported to the local commander, and travelled back by train to Ritter, who now had his headquarters in Kalkfeld, with the troops belonging to the division deployed all around Kalkfeld. Oberleutnant von Geldern was adjutant; Fricke, von Loßnitzer,[77] and I were ordnance officers; Vice-Feldwebel Görgens[78] and Hümann[79] (head surveyor of Windhoek) were local guides; as well as two Unteroffiziere and six men.
June was a state of constant alert. I was working on the railway service day and night as trains arrived or were deployed elsewhere. The weather was unpleasant: so cold that in the mornings the horses’ drinking-troughs were frozen. I spent three days with two men on patrol in the Erongo mountains when enemy aeroplanes appeared over Kalkfeld, and therefore all the trains had to be driven into the emergency sidings in dense bush at night.
On 29 May Oberleutnant Scheele[80] was intending to fly to Omaruru to throw some bombs at the enemy camp. But he crashed when the engine failed shortly after take-off. Major Ritter and I were about twenty metres away watching him take-off, and we pulled him out of the burning aeroplane with a broken leg and broken nose.
On 19 June the enemy occupied Omaruru, and on the same night, Epako. Leutnant von Dewitz was wounded there, captured and taken away. There was a danger of them coming to Kalkfeld and encircling us, so we evacuated and at seven o’clock in the morning on 21 June Ritter’s entire command set off: three batteries and two mounted companies, baggage and staff (three companies providing rear-guard cover behind us).
It was a terrible march. Usually marching only in step, because the heavily loaded munition and provision waggons proceeded slowly in the deep sand, all pulled by mules because we didn’t have any motor vehicles. We stopped for the night at six that evening. We set out the next day at eight o’clock in the morning for a long march. At eleven o’clock we arrived at Erundu, and after giving the animals food and water we continued on a very bad road until eleven o’clock that night. We blew up the bridge at Erundu.
On 23 June we were in an area that provided good grazing for the animals, and by nine in the morning we had reached only point 27-3 of the Otavi railway. We remained there until 24 June. We led the animals to the water station at Otjitazu, and at four in the afternoon we rode through Otjiwarongo. We carried on until nine o’clock in the evening, and then bivouacked for the night.
We had a long march on 25 June, starting at seven o’clock, to kilometre 402 of the Otavi railway, where I had ordered a water train. It took a long time for all the animals to drink. There was news that the enemy is attacking from all sides and has occupied Waterberg, so the three rearguard companies were quickly called in, arriving at two o’clock in the afternoon. At four o’clock we had a long march until ten o’clock that night, and then took a break overnight in dense bush. We started again at seven on the morning of 26 June, and were at Okaputa by nine. I rode ahead with Major Ritter, to the farms of de Jong and V. Erpf,[81] and fed and watered the animals there in a large maize field. We had to abandon the farm, destroying the pumps and water systems to render them useless to the enemy, and then marched until nine o’clock in the evening.
On 27 June we left at seven in the morning and went on until Komukanti, there we watered again from a previously-arranged water train, and continue until ten that evening, where we stayed at kilometre 488 of the Otavi railway for the night.
We set of at seven in the morning on 28 June and arrived in Otavifontein at 8.30am. The local commander Reserve Hauptmann Ohlenschlager, who knew the troops were on their way, had not prepared anything and was seriously chewed out for it by Major Ritter. At nine o’clock the commander arrived in a motor-car with Hauptmann Trainer, and although Ritter showed him his excellent defence position at Otavifontein, he ordered that the entire company go back down the Otjenga road for three kilometres and take up position at the Eisenpforte.
This was the wrong place. If we had followed Ritter’s plan it would probably not have been possible for the British to take Otavifontein. We later heard from them that it would have been a catastrophe for their men, as a retreat to the nearest water station (unlike us, they were not able to arrange transport of water by railway) would have caused the loss of most of their horses. On Franke’s orders our whole company was torn apart: the three batteries were placed individually on various hillocks, the companies stationed around without any organised structure, and the staff remained in the centre.
On 29 June I went on foot as close as I possibly could to Otavifontein to get water barrels: we could not lead the horses out of the emplacements to drink because of the proximity of the enemy. Two enemy planes flew over Otavi and Otavifontein for an hour-and-a-half, they threw five bombs but did not cause any damage.
During the evening of 30 June news came at seven o’clock that Okaputa was occupied by the enemy, and there was heavy artillery on the march. Everyone on high alert.
At seven in the morning on 1 July the enemy shot at our outposts. The general staff rode out to Otavifontein at seven o’clock; they had been standing all night with saddled horses, and could signal using lights to the batteries and companies. Aeroplanes appeared again and we shot at them. We rode up to a big field of maize below the native location; the Second Reserve and Fifth Field Company were already in combat between the maize field and Otavi, with enemy artillery firing over us. I was ordered to take command of Number Three Battery and the Third Reserve Company, which had not yet arrived, and to direct them into new positions. I dashed at a wild gallop under the most violent fire (every ordnance officer has to have an escort in the battle, who must ride just behind him, and if the officer falls, the escort will have to carry on the message). I wasn’t hit, but my poor Unteroffizier escort was brought down after a bullet struck his horse.
After 30 minutes I reached the batteries and the company and directed them into the positions as ordered. Then at the gallop back to the staff. When I got there, the two companies had not been able to hold their positions and had fallen back, and the staff had also retreated back until I found them at the railway station at the entrance to Otavi Gorge. In the meantime the enemy had reached Otavi; incomprehensibly, two of Bauszus’ companies lying in position at Sargberg (ten kilometres north of us) had been pulled back, leaving the enemy free to approach our left flank.
Our companies headed right, towards Gauss. At the entrance to the ravine, a Zahlmeister came towards us, badly wounded, and reported that both sides of the gorge were occupied by the enemy; and that his two carts, transporting uniforms and men, had been hit. According to Hümann, the surveyor, the only way out for the staff officers was to the right, towards the mountain; but Major Ritter suddenly dug his spurs into his horse’s side and flew into the ravine, over the fallen men and horses lying there. I could only see how the staff were galloping to the right (I was directly behind Ritter) but since I was always told that you should stay with the commanding officer, I raced behind him, about two horse-lengths behind. Head down on the horse’s neck as it galloped through deadly firing from each side; towards the end of the ravine, which is about half a kilometre long, the firing eased and we slowed down our horses. We were alone without our men. Ritter’s horse was shot through the withers and had to be destroyed that evening, I had a shot through the front pocket of my rucksack; I kept as a souvenir the perforated card that was in it.
After about two hundred metres we came across our three batteries, which had taken
up position at entirely the wrong locations and had not come under fire at all. The batteries and the gradually growing companies continued marching up to the previously planned rendezvous point. As there was no action against us from the enemy, we carried on marching during the night to Bauszus’ camp at Sargberg. I had orders to hand over the batteries, and when I returned in the dark to the place where the staff had grouped, the latter had already disappeared. I looked everywhere and there was nothing visible, just the faint noise from the troops ahead during the last five kilometres of my search of the road. At two o’clock in the morning, I still had not found the rest of the staff, but I was done in—having been riding since seven that morning and no sleep the night before. I was dead-tired; after I saddled my horse and gave it some food, I wrapped a rug around myself and dossed down beside the horse.
By 2 July the enemy had not attacked us again. The Union troops did not seem intent on following up the battle with further action, but there were reports from the north that the enemy had bypassed our position, already occupying Outjo and almost in Okaukuejo.
On 3 July the reports from the day before were confirmed, and that Third Reserve Company had arrived in Gauss.
On 4 July came orders from the command, the entire force was to go to Khorab and take up a defensive position there. Khorab is a farm with a large farmhouse, good water and lots of it. We set off marching at six o’clock in the evening (marching at night as the dust clouds betray our movements to the enemy in the daytime). Horribly bad road, slow progress. The baggage carts were often coming to a halt; to determine the cause I had to ride alongside the road, and ended up in a hole with my horse three times in one night. We got to Khorab at midnight, and spent the night where we stood.
On 5 July the two companies now set up a circular defensive position around the farmhouse and water station, with Bauszus’ men defending the northern half and our men facing south towards Otavifontein. Everyone was constantly on alert, day and night. In order to prevent further unpleasant fighting and bloodshed (but probably because the Boers showed reluctance to continue the struggle) General Botha offered peace negotiations. For ourselves, the situation was such that our troops had not yet been defeated, but we were hemmed in on all sides; our artillery no longer possessed ammunition; there were not enough shells for a battle; we had no feed for the horses; and we had nothing to eat except meat.
On 6 July, from seven o’clock in the morning, a cease-fire was agreed and the governor and military commander, together with their staff, arranged for talks and negotiations with Botha. These negotiations continued until 8 July, when Botha entered upon the most essential points of our conditions. Troops on active service were to be interned at Aus in the south of the country. Reservists were to be released, and they could return to their homes and farms and resume their employment. All war material and government property was to be confiscated by the enemy, private property was not to be touched. Botha wanted to express his appreciation to the officers by allowing them to keep their horses and weapons as personal property.
This surrender was signed by both sides on 9 July 1915. When Botha got the lists of names showing over 2,200 men he said he had been tricked, because he knew that we had 15,000 men. Franke replied, “If we had 15,000 men, then you wouldn’t be here and we wouldn’t be in this position.”
From 10 to 14 July, the reservists were gradually removed by train. All officers remained behind; we had to affirm that in this war we would no longer fight against the Union and England, which of course we did without hesitation or remorse—for there was no way for us to get out of the country, and we had no troops in the country. On 15 July we finally got our passes and decided to return to our homes, as the railroad was too chaotic and we did not want to leave our horses behind.
The English lent us one of own army wagons with six mules, which we had to leave at Omaruru. At half-past three in the afternoon we rode: Leutnant Kundt, Dr. Gumprecht[82] and I, Dr. Günther the veterinary officer and Görgens the director of surveys, with our five servants. At seven o’clock we went unchecked through Otavifontein, which was occupied by a large number of English troops, and camped for the night about 8 kilometres further south.
On 16 July we continued at seven o’clock in the morning. At nine we were in Otjikurumane, where we stopped to drink, farmhouse and everything destroyed. As it was very hot, we off-saddled at eleven o’clock for lunch. Before our departure from Khorab, I had shot a fat ox for the staff (it had already been claimed by the English) and had a haunch of beef on the wagon. At three o’clock we moved on, passed Gaidaus an hour later, until setting camp at nine that night.
We set off at six on the morning of 17 July: we came on a large group of Boer troops marching and firing their guns off apparently just for fun, so that we were glad to get through their lines safely. We stopped for water at Otjenga at ten o’clock and then stayed in good pasture for the animals from midday to four in the afternoon. From Khorab to Otjenga is 110 kilometres. In the afternoon we took the road to Owumerume until ten o’clock at night and then stopped for the night.
We left at six in the morning on 18 July. Two hours later we turned off our path to the outpost Onjunbombupa on Okosongomingo farm[83] (Schneider) where we arrived at eleven o’clock, 50 kilometres from Otjenga. We had good water and pasture there, and got some food for our animals. Since we had to rest, we stayed here until the following morning. We bought ourselves a small calf, which was slaughtered and added to our provisions.
19 July: we were away at six o’clock, riding cross-country to Osonjahe; and since we did not find any water there, twenty kilometres further to the farm Hohenfels where Graf von Bentheim[84] and his wife entertained us with coffee and vetkoek. At six o’clock we rode off cross-country, missed our path (to which local natives finally directed us) and set camp for the night at eleven o’clock.
We left on 20 July at six in the morning and went thirty-four kilometres via Omusewa Nari, thirty-four kilometres to Ovitue (Major Chogo), where we arrived at ten o’clock. We stopped about three hundred metres before the farm to make ourselves presentable, and even shaved, before visiting the Chogo family, who invited us to lunch. At three o’clock we rode on, passed Ehameno after seventeen kilometres and went on another eight kilometres before setting camp for the night.
July 21: Departure eight o’clock in the morning, past Osongutu farm and after another twenty-seven kilometres we had a midday break until three o’clock. Then another twenty-two kilometres. Stopped at Okaturua farm, where we watered the animals, then on until seven o’clock in the evening.
On 22 July we set out at six o’clock and reached the farm Okatete after eighteen kilometers. We drank, and then off-saddled at ten o’clock, five kilometres further in good pasture. At three o’clock we went on to Omburu farm (owned by von Prittwitz[85]) where everything was destroyed; von Prittwitz served with us as an officer. Six kilometres further to the farm Waldfrieden (farmer Hecht[86]). Hecht looked after us very nicely. We left our horses and saddles there until we could retrieve them when we were back in our own homes, and stayed there overnight.
On 23 July we all drove with the waggon to Omaruru. We were at Märtins[87] for breakfast, and after we had returned our waggon and span of mules to the English authorities, we set off to Karibib by train at three o’clock. There we parted, each one of us travelling to his home. Only Dr. Gumprecht and I had to go to Windhoek, where our families were at the time. That evening and overnight we were guests of Gustav Rösemann.[88]
On 24 July 1915, at 7.30am, our train left for Windhoek. We were lying on food sacks on an open wagon, with no luggage apart from a rifle, and finally reached Windhoek at six o’clock in the evening, received with joy by our wives and children. My second son Heinz was just four months old when I saw him for the first time. We celebrated our reunion at a splendid supper, such as we had not enjoyed for a year. I also rediscovered civilian clothes, and discarded a rather ragged military uniform after reporting to the English authorities.
The war was over for us. It was not really a glorious victory for the British, but the Union had invested no fewer than 85,000 men against a group of about 2,400 men, including all reserves and regular troops. It was the game of one mouse against many cats.
We all needed and wanted to go back to our places of residence: for us, Swakopmund. But the departure was shifted from day to day, no trains were available, and the English used every possible excuse. It appeared that in Swakopmund the authorities had not yet finished with the stealing and transport of private property. After about twelve days we were eventually ‘loaded’. We came with two children; Dr. Brenner, with wife, sister-in-law, and two children; and August Schulze[89] with wife, sister-in-law, and four children. Sixteen of us in a closed freight car, used for transporting cattle, which had not yet been cleaned, and so we travelled over three days and three nights (the usual travel time being twelve hours) to Swakopmund.
Our house looked awful. Anything which was not riveted or nailed down had been stolen or smashed; most of the furniture destroyed and taken, or carted off to other houses, where we discovered it again, piece by piece. Everything was chaotic and filthy. In the kitchen (our house had served as the medical officers’ mess!) there was a pile of food and other refuse in a corner a metre high; and we spent three days clearing it out with shovels.
Little by little, we were able to restore the house to a habitable state, but everything dear to us and irreplaceable such as our wedding gifts, silver, crystal, porcelain, our extensive library, my diaries; all sacked and stolen. What the looters could not or would not take with them, they smashed and destroyed, discarding the debris in the backyard.
Gradually our former employees returned to us from all over the place, but business premises were just as bad: entire warehouses cleared of their contents; pieces of office furniture missing and pianos and harmoniums installed in their place. It was weeks before we could resume our business. Active hostilities and fighting had, of course, ended, but the war had not finished for us. Even though we were at liberty, we were under the rule of a foreign enemy: prisoners of war who had nothing to say.
The Autobiography of Eugen Mansfeld Page 13