Captain Buchanan has done me the honour of asking me to write a short preface to a work which seems to me at all events of peculiar interest. To write a preface is a difficult task, unless one has some real raison d’être for the task; yet I find it difficult to refuse, if only for my intense admiration for the part played by the battalion with which the author was so long and honourably associated—the 25th Royal Fusiliers. The author’s qualifications to write this work are undoubted, not only fr

In accomplishing the conquest of German East Africa, many columns were put in the field. Those had their starting-points from the British East Africa frontier in the neighbourhood of Kilimanjaro Mountain, from Lake Victoria Nyanza, from the Belgian Congo, from Rhodesia, and latterly from the East Africa coast. To cover wide fronts of great extent of country, the forces from each of those bases advanced in their particular area in two, three, or more columns. This narrative deals directly with th

It was raining in London. It had been raining all day, and for many days previous, and to-night the atmosphere of damp and greyness pervaded the very soul of the city outdoors. Number Seven platform, at Waterloo Station, was crowded with troops and baggage, about to depart for service with the B.E.F. in East Africa. They had arrived at the station at 6 p.m. At 11 p.m. they were still there grouped about in talkative jollying clusters, apparently indifferent to the delay in entraining. Everyone k

Routine in the early days of war, in the camps on the frontier of British East Africa in 1915, was like unto a watch-dog’s duties. The Uganda Railway, running parallel to the boundary from Mombasa, on the East Coast, to Kisumu, on Lake Victoria Nyanza, had to be vigorously protected from raiding parties; and a force larger than our own had to be held at bay until a sufficient army could be sent out to take the field and the offensive. Small encampments, manned with a handful of daring, miscellan

Saidi-bin-Mohammed, native of East Africa, had been to the war a year. When the English had gone to the borders of his country to face the German enemy, Saidi had followed his white master. One day in June, about 5 o’clock—about that time of day most pleasant in Africa, when the sun is lowering in the west and losing its intensive piercing heat—Saidi, tall, and straight and athletic, was busied outside his small grass hut, cleaning his equipment and rifle with the interest and care of one who ha

The dusty road through dense tropical thorn-bush followed the “lie” of the mountain, and to approach Longido West you came round the bend from the west, and swung easterly, to find the camp, an irregular, partly cleared space in the midst of trees. The camp, with cunning purpose, was under cover, for it was within the timber line, which hung densely in colour and form along, and all around, the mountain base. Beyond, at no great distance to the south and west, the bush terminated, and open yello

On 14th May, 1916, I received orders to take the entire transport from Kibosho, west of Moschi, back to Mbuyuni, on the Taveta side, where the column was rapidly outfitting for another advance. The rains were over. Our rest at Moschi was at an end. After a few days’ hurried preparation we marched out from Mbuyuni in the afternoon of the 18th of May, and continued on the way all through the night. It was a memorable march. I happened to be temporarily in charge of battalion transport, and had to

This was to be an advance less in ultimate distance than those previously undertaken, and accomplished, but proved to be through country much more attractive, in its early stages, yet, in its latter stages, more unhealthy and trying than anything we had so far experienced. The operations began in the very mountainous and beautiful Ulugúru mountains, south of Morogoro, mountains which were cultivated and habited by large numbers of natives, and which were rich in crop and pasturage and water, and

Our glorious rest of three months at “the Cape” came to an end—months which had been filled with the joy and appreciation of men who had come out of scenes that had borne something of nightmare into the full light of life, among people of their own kind, in a beautiful, peaceful land. The intellectual uplifting was supreme. Minds that were fever-weakened, and depressed, and unresponsive—and few had not been affected by prolonged hardship and equatorial climate—came again to life and ordinary buo

This was, under the circumstance of soldier life, but a small collection, but it is interesting to note that they proved useful and of interest. Dr. Hartert wrote concerning them: “Nos. 1 and 26. It is surprising that a new species should still be found in British East Africa. It seems, however, probable that the specimens mentioned by Reichenow from Ugogo as probably—judging by the somewhat poor description and figure in the Proceedings of the Zoological Society—being Serinus donaldsoni , are n

War is as a storm of the clouds—a human storm. Dark frowning clouds, commotion and strife, and outbursts of thunder—and before the threatening disaster we tremble, and hope and fear. It is the changing of the Universe, this mighty upheaval within nations, and there is the impulse of Destiny in it. As a storm will clear the atmosphere, afterwards there will be sunshine and better things. Not for to-day, and the present, is this warring of nations, but for the future, and the wisdom of those who i

Is not to enter war to enter an arena of great possibilities, wherein a great game may be played, or a bad game? but, in any case, it is so closely and seriously fraught with terrible issues that it bares the character of men to the very bone. And there are many characters—not one character, but a thousand characters; some great, some small, some active, some dormant, but out of all such elements it is a wise man’s wish to weld a universal organisation of strength; and an ignorant man’s folly to

At your post there are some days when mists are in your eyes, and you cannot clearly see; there are days when mountains must be climbed with aching limbs and burdened back; and there are days when you are humbled in wretchedness, and glad of the kindliness of natives. Those days we all experience, but, thank God, there are days when the sky is blue and sunshine is in everything, and it is good to be alive....

Eighty per cent. of the rank and file are good fellows, glad to do their best if treated with consideration, humanity, and a little love. They are all very human, and you cannot prevent them from thinking in a human way. What they expect and desire is a strong command that lays down a just and reasonable order of things, and carries them through without confusion and change. To supply such command is often difficult—for, again, it is human nature that has to be dealt with. Perhaps thirty per cen

The control of an ordered parade is a simple thing, and for the drill sergeant. But do not let us confuse the drill and discipline of the barrack square, which is something of an ornament and impressive, with the state of mind and aspect of a vital battle. Gifted leadership is that which takes hold of and controls disorder—not order. No matter what we have read and have preached about discipline, the eternal fact which human nature will put before you on the awesome field is that we are of many

A soldier said to me the other day: “I have been fifteen months out here—I may be fifteen more—I may be shot to-morrow.” To him it was a commonplace remark without a note of complaint. He merely wished to show he had had time to think of the subject he was discussing from a serious point of view. And he had been discussing the folly, the uselessness, the narrowness, the meanness of some of the newspaper and political criticisms so rife in his home papers—the home that now he passionately hoped w

I have been a lone sentry many nights now in this distant outpost, and, like a single plover seeking out the flock, I could utter his weird, wild cry of loneliness. Love is surely the strongest motive in our lives, and ah! it is cruel, and cold, and barren without any of it.... Yet I carry on, though sometimes losing control of wariness and pitching among the far-off fields of dream-land in search of the old home ... then back to this lone, wild beat as before. Is it an untamed spirit beating it