Wilmshurst of the Frontier Force Part 25

There was a Belgian column operating on the north-west side. It looked as if we were going to do something great, when we had to retire through lack of provisions. It appears that a few Huns got away and started playing the deuce with our lines of communication; put the kybosh on a couple of convoys and generally made things unpleasant."

"Rather," agreed Laxdale. "I've been hungry many a time, but now I know what it means to have to tighten one's belt. I'll qualify for the Army Light-weight Championship yet."

"A week ago I seriously thought of going on exhibition as a living skeleton," remarked Danvers. "You've been jolly lucky, Wilmshurst; you're as fat as a prize turkey-c.o.c.k. They've been stuffing you down at the base."

"At any rate I'll soon work it down to normal," rejoined Wilmshurst.

"Any company news?"

"Nothing much," replied Spofforth. "Two casualties in your platoon.

Bela Moshi is still away (hard lines, thought Wilmshurst), but the recommendation for the D.C.M. has gone through. The black sinner will be as proud as a dog with two tails when he gets the medal."

Within a week of Dudley's rejoining, the column was again in position to resume offensive operations. Well guarded convoys had arrived, including a much-needed ammunition column, while with the advent of the rainy season the difficulty of feeding the horses and mules was considerably reduced.

The troops advanced on a broad front, the Waffs in the centre, a Punjabi battalion on the right and a Pathan regiment on the left.

Light Horse and Indian Lancers operated on both flanks, while a battery of mountain guns acted in support of the infantry.

For the last three weeks a strong Belgian column had been sitting on the banks of the Tuti, a river flowing in a south-westerly direction behind the Karewenda Hills and joining the Kiwa fifty miles S.S.W. of M'ganga. By holding the fords the Belgians effectually cut off the retreat of the Huns from Twashi, and the latter being fully aware of that unpleasant fact were confronted with one of two alternatives--to fight it out or surrender.

Four days' steady marching brought the British column within striking distance of the outermost lines of defence. The difficult nature of the ground made it impossible to run the position. A frontal attack had to be delivered in order to pierce the line, but before this could be done the intervening ground had to be carefully reconnoitred, as many of the defences had been thrown up during the last few days, Fritz working with feverish energy when he found himself cornered.

During the course of the day four Germans approached the outlying piquets and made signs that they wished to surrender. Blindfolded they were escorted to headquarters and subjected to a rigorous examination.

They admitted frankly that supplies both of food and ammunition were running short and that the Askaris were restless and showing signs of mutiny. The prisoners also gave details of the position of some of the German advance works, stating that they were but lightly held. Each man being showed a military map he indicated the position of the defence in question; and, what was more, the descriptions coincided with each other.

"It would be well, however, not to take too much for granted, sir,"

remarked the adjutant to Colonel Quarrier after the Germans had been removed. "This surrender business may be a put-up job to throw dust in our eyes. Their yarn has a sort of carefully-practised savour about it."

"Perhaps you are right," agreed the C.O. of the Waffs. "It would be as well to be content with a feint upon this section of the defences in case there is a labyrinth of mines. What sort of ground is this?"

He pointed with a pencil to the map spread out in front of him. The adjutant looked, frowned and tugged at his moustache.

"I really cannot say, sir," he replied at length. "If the map is correct----"

"I refer to the actual terrain," interrupted Colonel Quarrier. "Look here, Manners; if it is fairly undulating, and not too steep on the north-eastern side, it ought to be admirably suited for a _coup-de-main_. Frontal, of course, but that is inevitable."

"Just so, sir," murmured the adjutant. Colonel Quarrier deliberately folded up the map. "Very well," he said in conclusion. "Send a reliable officer out. I want an accurate report. Whom can you suggest?"

Captain Manners pondered.

"There's Mr. Spofforth, sir----"

"Too jolly lanky for the job," objected the colonel.

"Mr. Danvers----"

"Took lowest marks at map-reading," continued the critical C.O. "A smart officer in every other respect."

"Mr. Laxdale----"

"Lacks caution," declared Colonel Quarrier. "No pun intended. A good man in a rush at the head of his platoon, but for individual work--Who's next?"

"Mr. Wilmshurst, sir."

"Only just out of hospital," was the C.O.'s dictum.

"But fit and as keen as mustard, sir," persisted the adjutant for two reasons. He was getting a bit bored at having his recommendations summarily "choked off"; he also knew that Dudley Wilmshurst was, apart from being a soldier, a scout by instinct, and that he had plenty of experience of the conditions of life in the bush.

"Very well, then," declared the C.O. "Broach the subject to him privately, Manners. If he jumps at it, send him to me."

Ten minutes later Second-Lieutenant Dudley Wilmshurst "jumped."

CHAPTER XX

QUITS

The subaltern decided to go out alone. One man stood a far better chance of escaping detection than two; so greatly to the dismay of every Haussa in his platoon he faced the difficult task single handed.

Mounted on a nimble pony and carrying rifle and ammunition, revolver, binoculars, map and compa.s.s Wilmshurst was bent upon conserving his energies during the ride across the previously reconnoitred ground. On new terrain he would tether his steed and proceed on foot.

The air was still and sultry. Away to the north great black clouds piled themselves up in sombre ma.s.ses, indigo-coloured with edges of watery green and flaming copper. Against the dark background the distant horizon stood out clear and distinct, owing to the exaggerated refractory conditions of the atmosphere.

"A regular deluge before long," decided Dudley.

He viewed the approaching storm with equanimity. The clearness of the atmosphere rendered his task lighter, while the change of weather would tend to keep the Askaris within their lines. Even German military despotism could not conquer the native levies' dread of a thunderstorm.

Finally the darkness and rain on the bursting of the storm would enable him to get back without so much chance of being spotted, for on reconnoitring it is on the return journey that casualties to the scouts happen most frequently.

The subaltern's sole protection from the rain was a waterproof ground sheet. Originally fawn-coloured it had been liberally camouflaged with bizarre circles, squares and triangles painted in a medley of colouring. At five hundred yards the wearer was practically invisible, the "colour-scheme" blending with the surrounding ground in a most effective manner. For the present the ground sheet, wrapped into a small compa.s.s, was strapped in front of the pommel of the saddle.

Making his way past the outlying piquets Wilmshurst rode steadily. The ground was undulating, the general tendency being a gentle rise.

During the last few days the hitherto dry and parched land had been covered with rapidly growing vegetation, vivid green gra.s.ses shooting up to an average height of eighteen inches and transforming the open ground into a state strongly resembling the prairies of the New World.

Crowds of _aasvogels_, gathered around the carca.s.s of a mule, rose on the subaltern's approach, uttering discordant cries as they flew away from their interrupted meal. It was unfortunate but unavoidable, and had Wilmshurst been within a couple of miles of a hostile post the aerial commotion would have "given him away."

Checking his map with various prominent landmarks the subaltern arrived at the limit of his ride, a clump of sub-tropical trees that crowned a horseshoe-shaped hill.

"That's all right so far," thought Dudley, comparing the contour of the hill with the plan. "Now comes the unknown."

His military map showed an absolute desert as far as detail was concerned. Topographical knowledge was practically at zero judging by the almost blank portion of paper representing the ground between the subaltern and the twin spurs of the Karewenda Hills against which Colonel Quarrier proposed making their actual frontal attack. It was Wilmshurst's task to cross this unknown ground, finding out the best route for troops to advance in column of route without being detected, and a suitable place for extending in open order prior to the final phases of the a.s.sault.

Tethering his pony by means of a long hide-rope--for out of consideration for the animal he forbore to hobble it, since there was a possibility that he might not be able to return to it, Wilmshurst fastened the rolled ground-sheet over his shoulder after the manner of a bandolier, and holding his rifle ready for instant action began his seven-mile trek. In order to baffle the enemy scouts should they be out, Dudley wore a pair of flat-soled boots to the feet of which were fixed a dummy pair of soles and heels in the reverse way. Any one picking up the spoor would be under the erroneous belief that the wearer was walking in the opposite direction to the actual one.

"Judging by my footsteps I must be a pigeon-toed blighter,"

soliloquised Wilmshurst, as he noted the turned-in prints in the soft ground. "I must look out to that, or I'll give the show away."

On and on he went, making his way from one point of cover to another, yet without seeing or hearing the faintest sign of the German patrols.

It was not a rea.s.suring business, for scouts might be in the vicinity, and a scout unseen is a far greater menace than one who incautiously betrays his presence.