Tip & Run

by Edward Paice

  Although British reinforcements from the Liwale–Songea track and Belgian reinforcements from Liwale arrived on the scene too late to prevent Tafel from moving on, there was a glimmer of hope in the British ranks. By their own admission, their opponents ‘looked terrible’ as they disappeared out of sight. ‘The immensely long retreat had left them pretty well dead-beat,’ wrote one German officer, ‘and their uniforms hung around them in rags. Some of the askari had given up trying to keep the bits together, and carried on in their shorts, and with a machine-gun belt slung across their shoulders, or a captured English or Belgian bandolier. Not all of them had boots, and if they had, it was a pair of English or Belgian ones, dragged from a corpse after a fight.’9 Furthermore, a Belgian patrol succeeded in catching up with Tafel’s rearguard, killing Lieutenant Niemir, capturing Captain Bauer and seizing all Tafel’s documents; and on 18 November the patrol sent by Tafel to gain touch with von Lettow-Vorbeck at Nambindinga fell into British hands. Successful though their escape from Mahenge had undoubtedly been, the questions on the minds of all Tafel’s officers as they sped towards the Makonde plateau were: ‘How long can it go on? Have we not been through enough for East Africa?’10

  Liwale was as far as Colonel Huyghé’s Belgian troops could, or would, go and Belgium played no further active part in the campaign. Their involvement had cost the lives of more than 2,000 officers and askari, a death toll equivalent to one in seven of the force which had invaded Ruanda and Urundi and swept down to Tabora the previous year, and it had been characterised by an ability to march vast distances at speed, to make do with the most precarious supply arrangements imaginable, and a predilection for undertaking frontal assaults which was the envy of many a British officer. Political wrangling may have accompanied every phase of Anglo-Belgian co-operation, but few who had encountered the Belgian askari sought to deny that they had proved every bit as effective as ‘Murray’s Rhodesians’, the West African battalions, the Indian mountain gunners, and the pre-war battalions of the King’s African Rifles. The Belgian Congo had also provided Britain with more than half of its wartime requirement for copal (for the munitions industry), and about five per cent of its requirement for copper, palm oil and rubber. As von Lettow-Vorbeck and Tafel trudged their way ever closer to Portuguese East Africa, the likelihood of Belgium’s contribution being matched by Britain’s other ally looked slim.

  THIRTY

  The German Pimpernel

  Von Lettow-Vorbeck’s escape from encirclement at Chiwata and in the Lutshemi Valley was acknowledged by his adversaries as ‘a notable achievement, in great measure due to the skilful work of his rearguard commanders’.1 But it left his force in desperate straits. At Chiwata, ninety-eight Germans and 425 askari had surrendered to the British, and more men and field guns had been captured as his remaining companies were harried every inch of the way up the Lutshemi Valley. On the face of it, his offensive capability was negligible; and requisitioning sufficient supplies for his men was well-nigh impossible. Stocks of quinine for the Europeans would only keep them on their feet for less than a month, and after they were exhausted von Lettow-Vorbeck knew that it would be ‘madness to go on with the fighting’. As his bedraggled troops fought their way towards the wooded high ground around Nambindinga, he hoped to reorganise and even, if Tafel reappeared, to ensure that ‘those who had begun fighting in the Belgian Congo and those from the Kenya frontier could hear the sound of each others’ rifles’2 for the first time. But he knew that he would also be forced to effect ‘a drastic reduction of strength’3 if the struggle were to continue.

  On 17 November, von Lettow-Vorbeck announced his ‘fateful decision’.4 All of his troops, including the 1,000 or so Europeans, were to undergo a medical examination – and those who were not fully fit would be left behind. Seven hundred Europeans and 2,000 askari failed the test; for some the news came as a relief, but for others it was a bitter disappointment. Fever-ridden Nis Kock, from the blockade-runner Kronborg, was one of those for whom ‘it was world-shaking’* to be told that he must remain at Nambindinga; and lying nearby was the badly wounded Captain von Lieberman, who had led the German troops at Narungombe in July and commanded the defence of Ndanda during the withdrawal onto the Makonde plateau. When dusk descended, Kock watched as ‘fire upon fire was lighted . . . not bold, flaring soldiers’ fires, but little sparks of light in the darkness’, around which ‘the men who were to stay behind’ huddled:

  More and more wounded kept coming in from the fight that had raged round the camp all day, machine-gun firing was still to be heard about the camp, but the intervals between bursts got longer and longer and at last a few Askari companies came in: they had been holding up the English advance as long as it was light, and moving slowly and heavily they disappeared among the trees. But then, as if they had sprung out of the ground, still more companies took shape out of the pitchy darkness. This was the German East African Army, marching towards the frontier river, the Rovuma. The camp-fires gleamed on fantastic shapes, black and white side by side, carrying rifles over their shoulders, butt pointing backwards . . . More came by, and still more.5

  Von Lettow-Vorbeck’s determination to press on with the troops fit enough to do so was remarkable, and even those who were glad to be left behind felt a ‘shuddering admiration’ for their ‘implacable, unwearying’6 commander. In a single month, he had lost a further eight of the thirty-three commissioned officers with whom he had started the war; and his ‘new’ army consisted of just thirteen or fourteen companies, armed with thirty-seven machine-guns and two artillery pieces (commanded by the wooden-footed Königsberg officer Richard Wenig). Leaving waterless Nambindinga, and their comrades, to the British these troops began their march across the inhospitable Makonde plateau right away; and on 18 November the vanguard reached Kitangari, where Max Looff, whose naval guns and sailors had contributed so much to the German war effort, was judged too sick to continue. It was over two and a half years since the former captain of the Königsberg had abandoned his ship for the land war, and had he been able to march for just two more days he would have found himself back at Newala, the scene of his victory over the Portuguese almost exactly a year earlier.

  After weeding out the last of the sick troops at Newala von Lettow-Vorbeck, newly promoted by Berlin to the rank of Major-General, marched down off the plateau on 21 November at the head of a force comprising 278 Europeans, 1,700 askari and 3,000 porters and followers commanded by naval Lieutenant Besch, the column’s quartermaster.* That night the Germans camped at Mpili, on the Rovuma, having routed a very surprised mounted detachment of 10/SAH who were watering their horses at the river. The prisoners were sent back north to the British, but horses were kept by von Lettow-Vorbeck ‘as a possible addition to rations’.7 Meanwhile the 55th (Coke’s) Rifles arrived at Newala as the advance guard of No. 1 Column less than twenty-four hours after the departing enemy. With his back to the escarpment von Lettow-Vorbeck would have been hard-pressed in daylight to emulate the Portuguese feat of 1916 of ‘disappearing’ from this cliff-top redoubt, the more so if adequate forces had been in position on the north bank of the Rovuma; and, as the regiment’s official historian lamented, if the column had arrived one day earlier ‘whatever the fortunes of the fight which would certainly have taken place, it must have had a marked effect on von Lettow’s further retreat’.* Instead, on 22 November, an unimpeded von Lettow-Vorbeck led the bulk of his troops west along the Rovuma towards the Portuguese garrison at Negomano, at the confluence between the Rovuma and Lujenda Rivers, while Karl Göring was despatched due south towards another garrison at Nasombe with three companies.

  As they made their way along the Rovuma there was little jubilation in the German ranks. Köhl’s five-company vanguard, von Ruckteschell’s rearguard of two companies, and Wahle’s central column of three companies were spread out over a considerable area: everyone knew that British troops would be in hot pursuit, that ‘the battle against the wolves’8 would continue, and all the office
rs were in the grip of a ‘great fear . . . about provisions’. For old General Wahle, who had started his military career in 1867, three years before von Lettow-Vorbeck was even born, it was ‘the third time such a situation had arisen [during the war]’, but he resolved to ‘grit [his] teeth and bear it even if it meant starving to death’. The dearth of provisions was not the only problem: with the rainy season approaching the temperature rarely fell below 39°C in the shade – the ‘most insane heat’9 that Wahle had experienced in the whole campaign. Even the capture of a small British supply column failed to alleviate the misery, and with each passing day the only thing sustaining the troops was von Lettow-Vorbeck’s certainty, resulting from the intelligence gleaned from von Stuemer and von Bock after their incursion into Portuguese East Africa earlier in the year, that ‘something might be done’10 at Negomano.

  A little before dawn on 25 November the main German force began its crossing of the Rovuma a little above the confluence with the Lujenda. The river was only about 700 yards wide at this point, being the dry season, but men still found themselves up to their chests in the water at times and even the horses captured from 10/SAH were unsure of their footing. Wahle noticed that ‘many eyes were filled with tears’ as the troops left German East Africa, but the crossing was successfully completed without incident and on the south side of the river everyone stripped off to dry. Within an hour the sombre mood changed to one of allgemeine Würchtigkeit – ‘absolute callousness’11 –as von Lettow-Vorbeck announced his plan.

  Since his arrival in September Colonel Tómas de Sousa Rosa, the new Portuguese commander-in-chief, had repeatedly assured van Deventer that the border with German East Africa was held by the 6,500 Portuguese troops and nineteen companies of askari pushed inland from the coast. By early November, however, he had begun to renege on his suggestion that they should also ‘demonstrate’ north of the Rovuma for fear that it would weaken his defences in the event of a German attack somewhere to the west of Mocímboa da Rovuma; and when MacDonell informed van Deventer that Captain Mena of the Portuguese General Staff had privately voiced his ‘entire disagreement with the commander-in-chief and his colleagues’, van Deventer was forced to agree to the abandonment of a Portuguese advance ‘for the time being’. Indeed Mena’s doubts about Sousa Rosa’s abilities were framed in terms which were ‘so exact’ and ‘so incontrovertible’12 that van Deventer was unable to offer any reassurance to Northey and other commanders who repeatedly warned him that it was ‘essential to close [the Portuguese] door firmly’;13 and by the time von Lettow-Vorbeck led his troops off the Makonde plateau Sousa Rosa had still failed to fulfil a promise to strip the territory south of the Rovuma of any surplus foodstuffs even though it had become increasingly obvious to British Intelligence officers ‘what von Lettow’s last move would and must be’ if he was not cornered on the Makonde plateau.

  At 7 a.m. on 25 November Negomano, which was occupied by a ‘large Portuguese force with great supplies of arms and ammunition’ but ‘totally unsupported by any British troops’,14 received a warning from Major Cohen, MacDonell’s Intelligence officer, that an attack by von Lettow-Vorbeck was imminent. The warning was to no avail. Six companies in two detachments led by von Ruckteschell and Köhl threw themselves at the Portuguese defences with a ferocity unequalled in three years of campaigning, and after twenty-four hours of continual fighting Major Quaresma, the garrison commander, surrendered. The Portuguese accounts of the battle told of great heroism, a fight against insuperable odds, and of eventually running out of ammunition. There were undoubtedly examples of individual bravery among the defenders, who were divided between Negomano itself and its nearby water supply, but a subsequent inspection of Negomano by British Intelligence officers also revealed that the garrison had only been entrenched according to the Portuguese military’s understanding of the word and that, far from having rations for a siege of up to six days as Sousa Rosa subsequently claimed, the troops were on the brink of starvation. By the same token Quaresma, a political appointee who was only in command by dint of the fact that he was the oldest of the majors and therefore senior to Major Teixeira Pinto, a veteran of African bush-fighting, claimed three-quarters of the garrison escaped during the night, leaving ‘only’ twenty-two Portuguese officers and a couple of hundred askari dead on the battlefield; whereas von Lettow-Vorbeck was certain that ‘scarcely more than 200 of the enemy force, about 1,000 strong, can have survived’.*The truth probably lay somewhere between the two estimates. What is certain is that a garrison of 1,200 Portuguese troops was overrun and a quarter of a million rounds of ammunition, six machine-guns and several hundred modern rifles were captured – a disaster for van Deventer, who on receiving the news was heard to mutter ‘dit lyk soos verraaiery’ (‘it looks like treason’).

  ‘With one blow,’ wrote von Lettow-Vorbeck, ‘we had freed ourselves of a great part of our difficulties’,15 while British officers expressed their disgust that ‘in spite of the example and fate of the Port force at Newala a year before, a large Port force with great supplies of arms and ammunition, but totally unsupported by any British troops, was allowed to collect at Negomano at the junction of the Rovuma and Lugenda rivers’.16 The huge haul of arms and ammunition, European foodstuffs and medical supplies was certainly a boon, but the dearth of suitable provisions for von Lettow-Vorbeck’s starving askari forced him to leave Negomano as soon as possible and march upriver in search of further pickings. By 28 November even von Ruckteschell’s rearguard companies, 2/FK and 21/FK, had abandoned the Portuguese garrison, leaving Sousa Rosa to ponder where von Lettow-Vorbeck would strike next. The loss of Negomano caused panic in the Portuguese High Command, a situation which was exacerbated when British planes, flying in low cloud, bombed Mocímboa da Rovuma in the mistaken belief that Göring’s detachment had taken the garrison; and in his confused state Sousa Rosa insisted that the ‘main attack’ was yet to come, and would be directed against Chomba and then Mocímboa da Praia, on the coast. As the main Portuguese supply base, Mocímboa da Praia was certainly a tempting target. But it was over 200 miles from Negomano, and it was very unrealistic for Sousa Rosa to claim that von Lettow-Vorbeck could cover that distance before the arrival of the rainy season. His assessment of the danger to the coastal bases was mere fantasy, rooted in a disingenuous attempt to pretend that Negomano had simply been a local setback, and reports sent to van Deventer claiming that large German detachments were raiding villages south of Porto Amelia grossly exaggerated the truth.

  As von Lettow-Vorbeck proceeded west along the Rovuma, rather than east towards the coast, the fate of Tafel’s fourteen companies preoccupied him every bit as much as the search for food. Unbeknownst to his commander-in-chief, after breaking through the British lines at Abdullah Kwa Nanga Tafel had reached Mt Rondo, from which he could see the Indian Ocean to the east and the Makonde plateau to the south-east. Lack of water and increasing indiscipline in the ranks were his major sources of concern, but on 21 November Tafel could hear artillery fire to the east and two days later he was told by locals that Newala was still in German hands. Approaching the main force would, he realised, need to be carefully executed and was best done from the south-western edge of the plateau directly below Newala.

  From the British point of view, Tafel’s last known position was thirty miles south-west of Masasi on the Bangalla River. Stopping him effecting a junction with von Lettow-Vorbeck was vital, and all available troops were sent to hunt him down. On 26 November, Captain Max Poppe, at the head of 6/FK and 7/FK, ‘bumped’ a detachment of the 129th Baluchis, which had not received a warning of Tafel’s approach (and sustained casualties of twenty per cent among its 250 men in what was to be the battalion’s final action after two and a half years in East Africa); and that night all of Tafel’s columns converged near Luatala. There it was decided to jettison thirty-two Europeans, 180 askari and 1,330 carriers and women before crossing the Rovuma the following morning in the hope of stumbling across a patrol from the main German fo
rce.

  Once across the river Tafel’s troops were on the track south that Göring had followed five days earlier towards Nasombe; indeed during the afternoon they were just hours from one of Göring’s patrols. But finding no sign of his compatriots Tafel reluctantly reached the conclusion that he would have to surrender, and on the afternoon of 28 November he destroyed half a million rounds of ammunition and led his troops back across the Rovuma. At the confluence with the Bangalla River, the officers of the 55th (Coke’s) Rifles and Gold Coast Regiment awaited them, and Tafel’s 1,371 surviving troops were taken prisoner.*

  When news of Tafel’s surrender reached von Lettow-Vorbeck, he admitted that it was ‘the greatest disappointment’17 of his war. He was denied not only the valuable ammunition but the services of troops, many of whom had fought their way diagonally right across German East Africa, that would have doubled the size of his force. As it was, only Captain Otto, fourteen fellow-Germans and twenty-three askari– a patrol which Tafel had allowed to continue the search for their commander south of the Rovuma – succeeded in locating Göring; and after raiding various Portuguese posts between Negomano and Mocímboa da Rovuma both commanders joined von Lettow-Vorbeck before Christmas. Tafel’s surrender was some compensation to the men of Coke’s Rifles for so narrowly missing von Lettow-Vorbeck at Newala, the more so as Tafel, Lincke, Aumann and Schönfeld were among the most skilled and respected enemy officers. But as the prisoners were marched off to the sea, every British soldier knew that Tafel’s command was very much second prize.*