The Matabele Campaign

19th July.– At last our time came. The order was given to the men in the morning, “Bake two days’ bread, and sleep all you can this afternoon.” At what was usually our bedtime the whole column paraded without noise or trumpet call, and at 10.30 we moved off in the moonlight into the Matopos. I was told off to guide the column, because I knew the way. I preferred to go alone in front of the column, for fear of having my attention distracted if any one were with me, and of my thereby losing my bearings. And there was something of a weird and delightful feeling in mouching along alone, with a dark, silent square of men and horses looming along behind one. Neither talking nor smoking was allowed – for the gleam of a match lighting a pipe shines a long way in the darkness. Except for the occasional cough of a man or snort of a horse, the column, nearly a thousand strong, moved in complete silence. Once a dog yelped with excitement after a buck started from its lair; the orders for the night expressly stated that no dog should go with the column, and accordingly this one was promptly caught and killed with an assegai.

Soon after midnight we were within a mile of the place; the square halted, and each man lay down to sleep just where he stood – and jolly cold it was!

An hour before dawn we were up and on our way again, moving quietly onwards until we were close to the pass among the koppies which led into the enemy’s valley. Here, just as dawn was coming on, we left the ambulance and a reserve of men, together with our greatcoats and other impedimenta, and formed our column for attacking the stronghold.

First came an advance force comprising the two corps of Cape Boys, Robertson’s and Colenbrander’s. Cape Boys are natives and half–castes from the Cape Colony, mostly English–speaking, and dressed and armed like Europeans. There were also 200 friendly Matabele under Taylor, the Native Commissioner, 20 mounted white scouts under Coope, and a Hotchkiss and two Maxims under Llewellyn. This force was under my command.

Then came the main body of white troops under Colonel Plumer; this consisted of three troops of the newly raised police under Nicholson, the M.R.F. (Plumer’s corps), with two mountain battery guns. Also a detachment from the Belingwe column under Sir Frederick Frankland, which had volunteered to join in the fight (and had had to march all night from a distant camp to overtake us) and see the fun.

Sir Frederick Carrington was there also, though properly speaking he was on the sick–list with bronchitis, – not a thing to be trifled with when you have an old bullet–wound in your lung, – and with him were Lord Grey and Cecil Rhodes.

And so we advanced in the growing daylight into the broken, bushy valley, which was surrounded on every side by rough, rocky cliffs and koppies. Fresh paths and spoor showed that hundreds of rebels must be living here, and at last I jumped with joy when I spotted one thin streak of smoke after another rising among the crags on the eastern side of the valley. My telescope soon showed that there was a large camp with numerous fires, and crowds of natives moving among them. These presently formed into one dense brown mass, with their assegai blades glinting sharply in the rays of the morning sun. We soon got the guns up to the front from the main body, and in a few minutes they were banging their shells with beautiful accuracy over the startled rebel camp.

While they were at this game, I stole onwards with a few native scouts into the bottom of the valley, and soon saw another thin whisp of smoke not far from me in the bush; we crept cautiously down, and there found a small outpost of the enemy just leaving the spot where they had been camped for the night. At this point two valleys ran off from the main valley in which we were; one, running to the south, was merely a long narrow gorge, along which flowed the Tuli River; the other, on the opposite side of the river from us, ran to the eastward and formed a small open plateau surrounded by a circle of intricate koppies. While we were yet watching at this point, strings of natives suddenly appeared streaming across this open valley, retiring from the camp on the mountain above, which was being shelled by our guns. They were going very leisurely, and, thinking themselves unobserved, proceeded to take up their position among the encircling koppies. I sent back word of their movements, and calling together the Native Levy, proceeded at once to attack them. To do this more effectually, we worked round to the end of the main valley and got into some vast rock strongholds on the edge of the Tuli gorge. These, though recently occupied by hundreds of men, were now vacated, and one had an opportunity of seeing what a rebel stronghold was like from the inside; all the paths were blocked and barricaded with rocks and small trees; the whole place was honeycombed with caves, to which all entrances, save one or two, were blocked with stones; among these loopholes were left, such as to enable the occupants to fire in almost any direction. Looking from these loopholes to the opposite side of the gorge, we could see the enemy close to us in large numbers, taking up their position in a similar stronghold. Now and again two or three of them would come out of a cave on to a flat rock and dance a war–dance at our troops, which they could see in the distance, being quite unsuspicious of our near presence. They were evidently rehearsing what they would do when they caught the white man among their rocks, and they were shouting all sorts of insults to the troops, more with a spirit of bravado than with any idea of their reaching their ears at that distance. Interesting as the performance was, we did not sit it out for long, but put an abrupt end to it by suddenly loosing a volley at them at short range and from this unexpected quarter.

Then, clambering down among the rocks, we crossed the Tuli River and commenced the ascent of the towering crags in which the enemy were located. Of course this had to be done on foot, and I left my horse tied to a tree, with my coat and all spare kit hung in the branches.

Our friendlies went very gaily at the work at first, with any amount of firing, but very little result; the enemy had now entirely disappeared into their caves and holes among the rocks, merely looking out to fire and then popping in again. Our own niggers climbed about, firing among the rocks, but presently did more firing than climbing, and began to take cover and to stick to it; finally, two of them were bowled over, and the rest of them got behind the rocks and there remained, and no efforts could get them to budge. I then called up the Cape Boys and the Maxims (in which Lord Grey assisted where it was difficult to move owing to the very bad ground); these reinforcements came up with no loss of time and went to work with a will. It was delightful to watch the cool, business–like way in which Robertson brought his Boys along. They floundered through the boggy stream and crawled up the smooth, dome–shaped rocks beyond, and soon were clambering up among the koppies, banging and cheering. Llewellyn, too, brought his guns along at equal speed, and soon had them in position on apparently inaccessible crags, where they came into action with full effect at every chance the enemy gave them.

The fight gradually moved along the eastern valley, in the centre of which was a convenient rock from which I was able to see all that was going on, and it formed a good centre for directing the attacks, as the enemy were in the rocks on every side of us. The Cape Boys, after making a long circle round through part of the stronghold, reassembled at this spot, and from it directed their further attacks on the different parts requiring them, and it became the most convenient position for the machine guns, as they were able to play in every direction in turn from this point. For the systematic attack on the stronghold a portion of it is assigned to each company, and it is a pleasing sight to see the calm and ready way in which they set to work. They crowd into the narrow, bushy paths between the koppies, and then swarm out over the rocks from whence the firing comes, and very soon the row begins. A scattered shot here and there, and then a rattling volley; the boom of the elephant gun roaring dully from inside a cave is answered by the sharp crack of a Martini–Henry; the firing gradually wakes up on every side of us, the weird whisk of a bullet overhead is varied by the hum of a leaden–coated stone or the shriek of a pot–leg fired from a Matabele big–bore gun; and when these noises threaten to become monotonous, they are suddenly enlivened up by the hurried energetic “tap, tap, tap” of the Maxims or the deafening “pong” of the Hotchkiss. As you approach the koppies, excitement seems to be in the air; they stand so still and harmless–looking, and yet you know that from several at least of those holes and crannies the enemy are watching you, with finger on trigger, waiting for a fair chance. But it is from the least expected quarter that a roar comes forth and a cloud of smoke and the dust flies up at your feet.

It’s laughable to watch a Cape Boy prying into a cave with his long bayonet held out before him, as if to pick some human form of winkle from his shell. Suddenly he fires into the smoke which spurts from the cave before him. Too late: he falls, and then tries to rise – his leg is shattered. A moment later, three of his comrades are round him; they dash past him and disappear into the hole, two dull, thud–like shots within, and presently they come out again, jabbering and gesticulating to each other; then they pick up the injured man by his arms and drag him out into the open, and, leaving him there for the doctor’s party to find, they are quickly back again for further sport. At one moment they appear like monkeys on unexpected points of rock, at another like stage assassins creeping round corners and shooting, – or being shot. As we turn the corner, going up one of the paths, we find ourselves face to face with a similar string of rebels trotting down the path. For a moment the thought crosses one’s mind, Shall we stop to fire or go for them? but before the thought has time to fashion itself, we find ourselves going for them. Nor do they wait for our bayonets: they turn helter–skelter, rushing up the path, diving among the rocks and grass, for though fond of administering cold steel, it is the last thing they wish to meet with themselves, and so we treat them to the next best thing, a few well–aimed shots.

Out on our central rock again, we get reports from various detached attacking parties, showing that at at every point the rebels are being cleared or killed in their dens; but plenty of individuals of them still are left, and of this we have practical demonstration in the frequent visitation of bullets and other missiles, and some of them do their shooting pretty accurately, the Maxim attracting the aim of many a marksman among them. One of these marksmen we have nicknamed “Old Pot–legs,” from the nature of the missile (the iron legs of Kaffir cooking–pots) with which he treats us at intervals of ten minutes or so. Another on the other side we have christened “Rinderpest,” because he is a plague to us with his Lee–Metford rifle.

Meantime, several of our men have got hit, and have been brought in to our central rock, some of them brought out at considerable risk, too, by their officers and other men. But there are no stretchers to put them on, our bearer corps of friendly natives, who had been detailed to accompany the force, having entirely disappeared during the advance. (We afterwards found that they had dropped the stretchers in the Tuli River, and had dispersed themselves into the safest hiding–places they could find.) Nor was our surgeon here at first, Surgeon–Captain Lunan, for wherever firing was the hottest, there he went – to try and make it hotter. So in the meantime we did the best amateur work we could on the wounded men brought in. Of these there were six, all badly wounded, in addition to two more killed; and it is a pathetic comedy to watch the burly Royal Artillery sergeant transforming himself into a nurse for the occasion with a rough good–heartedness that does not stop to consider whether his patients are black or white.

At last the firing slackens off; our Maxim and our marksmen have stopped the fire of “Rinderpest,” “Pot–legs,” and Co. for good, and our parties return from their attacks in different directions, pretty tired, but cheerful; and now, having cleared the stronghold, we might well return to the main body, who are still in the main valley behind, but without stretchers we cannot carry the wounded, so, while we take a rest, our flag–waggers signal back for stretchers to be sent with white men to carry them, and not the useless friendlies.

But, from our apparent inaction, the Matabele, who still are watching us, gather that we are in some sort of distress; presently they are calling to one another among the rocks between us and the main body, and very soon we find that they are collecting in force in the Tuli River gorge, intent on cutting us off should we attempt to rejoin our friends.

[The above was written while we paused inactive on the field, waiting for the stretchers.]

A piquet, which we had posted in this direction, soon became pretty warmly engaged with them, but the only danger of the situation was the danger to the enemy themselves, for our main body, quickly realising the state of affairs, came down upon their rear, and in a few moments, finding themselves between two heavy fires, this wing of the rebels broke up in hurried flight, leaving some twenty of their dusky bodies huddled dead among the yellow grass. Very shortly afterwards a string of white men carrying stretchers, escorted by a squadron of the M.R.F. on foot, came up to our position, and soon we were comfortably on our way to rejoin headquarters.

During the return march I sent the Cape Boys skirmishing into the strongholds on either side of us, but they found them, in every case, completely clear of living enemies, though numerous bodies and blood–trails spoke to the success of the morning’s attack.

On reaching the main body, we lunched and slept, while the surgeons got to work on the wounded; among these, unfortunately, a number of amputations were found necessary, on account of the terrible wounds inflicted by the Matabele missiles.

We learned with much regret of the death of Sergeant Warringham, who, while we were fighting in the stronghold, had been shot when scouting down the Tuli gorge, and had been brought in under a nasty fire by Colonel Bridge, Captain Vyvyan, and others, patrolling near him. The party, Colonel Frank Rhodes among them, had lost several horses shot, but, with the greatest luck, came out unwounded themselves, except Lieutenant Taylor, who was slightly hit.

From daylight up till two o’clock we had been at it, and though practically only the advanced force had been engaged, the action was a complete success, and Babyan had been broken up in his own stronghold. And since he is the great leader among them, having been one of Lobengula’s most trusted indunas, and also having visited the English in their own country, his defeat should have a great moral effect among the remaining rebel chiefs.

During the afternoon we returned to camp, arriving there after dark. A curious incident occurred on this march back, which might have had unpleasant effects on the man concerned. Lieutenant Lowther of Coope’s Scouts was sent on ahead of the column to call up another ambulance from the camp, but in doing so he lost his way, and was missing for the next two days, eventually turning up at Fig Tree Fort, some five–and–twenty miles distant, having met with various adventures with small parties of the rebels on the way.

21st July.– It had been part of the General’s plan that while we were attacking Babyan, Captain Laing with his column should also simultaneously attack the enemy’s impi on the Inugu Mountain, some eight miles to the westward. During our attack yesterday morning we had heard Laing’s guns banging away in a very lively manner in the distance, so that we had expected, on returning to camp, to get some news from him, but none came. We accordingly sent off some native runners to go and find him, and to bring back information, in case he should yet be among the mountains, and we also sent a mounted patrol down to where his camp should be had he been successful, and returned into the main valley of the Malema River.

But we could learn nothing of him; the natives returned and reported that he was cut off by the enemy from all power of communication. Naturally this began to make us feel somewhat anxious, as I had already reported on the danger of the gorges in the neighbourhood of the Inugu, and of the knowledge the enemy had of their tactical strength. So this evening the General desired me to take a strong patrol of a hundred men, and go and find Laing.

We left camp soon after dark, and followed the Malema valley in the moonlight, until we were in the pass in the mountains which led down to the Inugu. My idea was to move through the outlying hills to strike the spoor which Laing had made in going into the hills, and simply to follow that track until I found him. Even to strike the spoor, one had to pass through some very nasty country, parts of which were in occupation of the enemy; but as their main strength would now be collected against Laing, and those that were left behind would probably be asleep, I did not expect much opposition on their part. At length we successfully struck the spoor, but, to my great surprise and delight, we found it was quite fresh spoor, leading outward away from the mountains, and it very soon brought us to within sight of his camp–fires; so, sounding a few trumpet–calls as we went, in order to show that we were no enemy, we made our way into his camp about eleven o’clock.

We found he had had a good fight, having been attacked in laager after he had got well inside the gorge; he had eventually driven off the enemy with the loss of nearly a hundred, his own losses being three whites killed and ten wounded, twenty–five friendlies killed or missing and eighteen wounded, and eighteen horses and mules killed. We did not wait longer than to hear the good news, but started back at once for our own camp, which we reached at three in the morning, and, needless to say, the General was delighted to be roused up to receive the news.

Captain Laing’s column had left their camp in the Malema valley on the 19th, and had gone into the pass alongside the Inugu Mountain, but without seeing a sign of an enemy. They had gone on to the end of this pass, hoping to find a route by which they might come into Babyan’s stronghold from the southward, and thus co–operate with us in our attack on the 20th. They laagered for the night with their waggons on the evening of the 19th in the widest part of the Inugu pass.

Just before dawn on the 20th, they had stood to arms, as usual, when suddenly a number of shots were fired close outside the laager, and the outlying piquet came running in, accompanied, rather than pursued, by a crowd of Matabele. No alarm could have been more sudden, but the men, being all at their places, were able to open fire on the moment, and their volley checked a rush that had evidently been carefully organised, when it was within twenty yards of the waggons. Although checked in their attempt, the enemy did not at once recoil, but kept up an irregular and hasty fire from what cover they could then gain among stones and grass; but, disheartened by the readiness with which they were received, and the telling fire of the defence, they began to get away by twos and threes into the better cover of the rocks which commanded the camp on all sides. It was now that the column suffered most, for the enemy, firing at short range, with good rests and from safe cover, picked off men and mules with great frequency. At one place in particular a number of their best marksmen were collected together, and did great execution until the 7–pounder was turned on them, and, firing case at 50 yards, effectually stopped their fire. The Maxim gun had here, too, attracted the special attention of the enemy, and four successive men were struck down while firing it, until Captain Hopper himself finally took the saddle.

Then the friendly natives in the laager were sent out to make a diversion, either to draw the enemy on or to frighten him out of his position, in either of which cases he would give our Maxims and rifle fire a chance. The enemy, suspecting they were going to be cut off, took the latter course; they began to retire in large numbers, in consequence of which the defenders were enabled to inflict heavy loss upon them, and sent them flying scattered and disheartened. But in their short outing a large number of our Native Levy were killed, wounded, or became missing, probably, in the latter case, taking to caves on their own account.

The column now continued its original work, namely, that of endeavouring to get round to Babyan’s stronghold, but, finding their course altogether barred by mountains, they turned back, and made their way out to the camp where I found them. Their action had, however, much simplified ours in Babyan’s stronghold that day, for Babyan, having heard of the approach of Laing’s column towards Inugu, while as yet he knew nothing of our moves, had sent part of his impi to assist the Inugu rebels; this force had come upon the scene of Laing’s fight only to meet their friends in full flight, and had, therefore, taken no part in that battle; and in the meantime, during their absence, we had smashed up their own main body in their stronghold.

22nd July.– Forgot that I had been up all night, and went for a bit of solitary exercise into the hills, to investigate some signs I had noted two days before of an impi camped in a new place. After a tedious bit of work, I found that they had decamped. I then went to the neighbourhood of Babyan’s stronghold, but could see no natives about there. Also, in accordance with the General’s instructions, I selected a position in which to build a fort to command this portion of the Matopos. I chose a point where there was open, fairly flat ground for half a mile in every direction, close to a permanent stream, at a spot where there was a mighty thorn tree which would serve for a “crow’s–nest” or raised platform from which a look–out man could see well in every direction, and where a Maxim gun would command the whole of the ground round the fort. On return to camp, I drew out the design and plan of the proposed fort, and in the evening again went out there, taking with me a portion of Robertson’s Cape Boys to start work upon it the following morning. This fort was named Fort Usher, being near the site of one of Usher’s farms.

24th July.– It is reported that the rebels have again returned to the Inugu gorge, so Nicholson was sent off to–day with a strong party to investigate. A second impi is reported to be about the Chabez valley about twelve miles westward of us in the Matopos; from Buluwayo they report that a third is near the town (Laing has been ordered to move in that direction); while a fourth is said to be thirty–five miles west of Buluwayo, and five hundred of Gambo’s friendly natives are to go against it, accompanied by Chief Native Commissioner Taylor. This makes things seem pretty lively, but so very often these reports end in nothing, especially when they emanate from Buluwayo.

One thing that adds to the excitement this evening, is that on seven hills around the camp we can see the signal–fires of the enemy burning, which may mean that they are contemplating a big attack on us. We have withdrawn the party who were out building the fort, and concentrated them in camp, and I shall sleep with my pistol–belt on. (I generally only sleep with my pistol under my pillow and the lanyard round my neck – this latter precaution I never omit.)

We sleep soundly, yet very lightly, in camp. If any one comes within ten yards of me, – however softly he may tread, – I wake up without fail. Bedtime is looked forward to with some zest here, for early rising and hard work all day make one pretty ready for rest by the evening, and very soon after supper one makes for one’s blankets.

The bedroom is usually the lee–side of a bush or scherm of cut branches. The bed – if you are luxurious, and are marching with waggons – is a valise–roll, comprising waterproof sheet, cork mattress, blanket, and small feather pillow – but what is more usual, is just your blanket, and your saddle for pillow. One’s toilet for the night is simple: doff hat, don nightcap, and loosen your boot–laces, or, if you have them, change your boots for shoes. Then you are ready to sleep, and to turn out on the moment if there is a night alarm.

If you have a fire at your feet, you place the butt of the longest log close to your hand, so that during the night you can keep it stoked without having to get up for the purpose.

And then you take a last look at the glorious star–spangled ceiling overhead, and, until all is blurred in sleep, you see in the dark mantle above you the veil of ignorance that shrouds the earth from heaven’s light beyond – the starry points of brightness that tend to light us are holes made in that covering by the work of good men, whose example and whose teaching encourage us to try and take our little part in letting in the light in imitation of the greater radiant orb – to lighten up the darkness till the daylight dawns.

CHAPTER VII

Our Work in the Matopos

25th July to 2nd August

Reconnaissance of the Chabez Valley – Kershaw completes the Reconnaissance – War Correspondents – Pack–train organised – A Night March and Attack on the Chabez Position – Successful Artillery Work by the Screw Guns – Cattle–raiding – Bowled over, but not wounded – Inyanda’s Stronghold cleared – Stores of Corn – Scene of Brand’s Fight of 10th April – “The Human Animal in Battle” – His State of Mind and Thirsty Condition.

25th July.– To–day I have had a long day reconnoitring, taking Pyke, Jan Grootboom, and Tagili. Pyke, as I have before indicated, is one of the best among a very good lot of young Colonial officers serving in Plumer’s corps; and a very keen and useful scouting officer. Jan Grootboom is a Cape Boy of Zulu extraction, and is a man of exceptional courage and soldierly ability. As one of Grey’s Scouts – and one who loathed the ordinary Kaffir – said of him: “He is not a proper nigger; his skin is black, but he has a white man’s heart. I will shake hands with him.” He is a clever scout, and a daring spy – one who has no hesitation in disguising himself as a Matabele, on occasion, and going in among their women to gather information. And he is a first–rate man in a fight. So, altogether, he was of the greatest service to me. Tagili is a good native scout, and faithful, but not “in the same street” with Grootboom.

We went into the Matopos, to the gorge of the Chabez River, about fifteen miles east of camp. It is a very nasty bit of country, and we had to keep our eyes open as we went, for we knew the rebels were about, although we could see nothing of them. This is a particularly dangerous sign; if they see you are a strong party, too strong for them to attack or capture, they do not mind showing themselves, and they come out to get a better look at you; but if it is a small party, and one which they have hopes of, they will hide and lie low, in order to get you in their grasp. I think they had hopes of us, for we got pretty close to their stronghold, and saw where they ought to be, but not one of them showed up. As we prowled around, we came across frequent tracks not many minutes old; possibly they went and waited for us on the path by which we arrived, but if they did so, they were sold, for we came back by an entirely different route.

The Chabez River rises in the valley of the Umzingwane, and runs south through the Matopos. It enters the Matopos through an enormous gorge, in the cliffs and heights of which the rebels have numerous caves, while they keep their cattle in the thick bush jungle along the river banks.

We first approached the place by the upper ground among the mountains, then, making our way round, we got into the Umzingwane valley, from which we could look into the mouth of the gorge, and could see what an impossible country it was for working in. We spent some time guessing at the enemy’s position, determining which would be the best way to attack them, and in mapping the ground; and then we retired a short distance across the valley to a koppie, from which we could watch the place without fear of anybody approaching us unseen.

But the way we had come was an impossible one for waggons, and I wanted to ascertain whether it was possible to bring them by a better route along the Umzingwane valley; so, leaving Pyke and Grootboom to watch the stronghold, – for we hoped that as evening came on, the enemy would light up their fires for cooking, and would thus betray their position, – I made my way back along the valley in the direction of our camp. Here I arrived after dark, having found this way also impossible for waggons. It would therefore seem necessary to organise some pack transport to take us to the Chabez stronghold, and afterwards, by the Umzingwane valley, towards the strongholds of the eastern end of the Matopos. Once here, we shall be on the Tuli–Buluwayo road, where the waggons, having gone round by Hope Fountain, or by Buluwayo, could rejoin us (vide map, p. 103).

27th July.– Major Kershaw took out a strong patrol for a further reconnaissance of the Chabez position. He was able to get up to the high ground overlooking the river gorge, and found that it broke up into most difficult country, of koppies and bush and deep ravines leading down to the river. While he was there, a good number of the enemy showed themselves on the different koppies, evidently watching his moves, but not inclined to attack him. On his return march to camp, Major Kershaw, with one or two others, was riding at some distance from the main party, when he came across a large party of the enemy going towards the Chabez; he luckily saw them first, and was able to hide until they had passed by.

Out in camp here Press correspondents have to bring me their messages, in order to get them signed for transmission by the field telegraph, and it is most interesting to see what marvellous news some of them can manage to fake up out of very inadequate material. Anything to be different from his rival! but is it always certain whether the information sent is true or not? Poor old Mother Necessity is not “in it” with a budding war correspondent. Many of them do not seem to grasp the broader military features of what is going on; but the local pressmen, being often fighting men themselves, are much the best in this respect, and it is a great pity that it is not their news which is cabled home.

29th July.– To–day, when out scouting by myself, being at some distance from my boy and the horses, I lay for a short rest and a quiet look–out among some rocks and grass overlooking a little stream; and I saw a charming picture. Presently there was a slight rattle of trinkets, and a swish of the tall yellow grass, followed by the sudden apparition of a naked Matabele warrior standing glistening among the rocks of the streamlet within thirty yards of me. His white war ornaments – the ball of clipped feathers on his brow and the long white cow’s–tail plumes which depended from his arms and knees – contrasted strongly with his rich brown skin. His kilt of wild cat–skins and monkeys’ tails swayed round his loins. His left hand bore his assegais and knobkerrie beneath the great dappled ox–hide shield; and, in his right, a yellow walking–staff.