The Matabele Campaign. Baden-Powell of Gilwell Robert Stephenson Smyth Baden-Powell

Victoria Cross for separate acts of heroism in this fight.

      Three days later, Captain “Mickey” MacFarlane – an old friend of ours in the 9th Lancers – again led out the Buluwayo Field Force, and this time dealt the enemy a very heavy blow, such as changed the aspect of affairs, and relieved Buluwayo from any immediate danger of being rushed.

      In these early fights and patrols the Buluwayo Force had lost twenty men killed and fifty wounded, while over two hundred settlers in surrounding districts had been murdered. Meanwhile, a relief force was being organised at Salisbury in Mashonaland, three hundred miles to the north, under Colonel Beal, and another at Kimberley and Mafeking, nearly six hundred miles to the south, under Colonel Plumer of the York and Lancaster Regiment. In the last week in May these two forces appeared in the neighbourhood of Buluwayo from their opposite directions, Cecil Rhodes arriving with that from the north; Lord Grey arriving about the same time as Colonel Plumer’s from the south.

      Meanwhile, Colonel Napier, with the bulk of the Buluwayo Force, had gone out to meet the Salisbury Force, and in combination with it did much to clear the country east of Buluwayo.

      [P.S.– A most interesting detailed account of the outbreak, and of these early operations – including the acts of individual gallantry on the part of Baxter, Crewe, Henderson, Grey, and others – will be found in Captain F. C. Selous’ book, Sunshine and Storm in Rhodesia.]

      Colonel Plumer had raised, organised, and equipped his force of eight hundred Cape Colony men and horses in an incredibly short space of time; but that is one beauty of South Africa – that it teems with good material for forming a fighting force at a moment’s notice. Nor did the “M.R.F.” (Matabele Relief Force), as Plumer’s corps was styled, lose any time in getting to work after its arrival at Buluwayo. For three days (23rd–26th May) it was hammering at the various impis threatening Buluwayo on the north and east with complete success.

      Thus, when we arrived a week later, we found that the immediate neighbourhood of Buluwayo had been cleared of enemy, but the impis were still hanging about in the offing, and required to be further broken up.

      The General’s plan, accordingly, was to send out three strong columns simultaneously to the north–east, north, and north–west, for a distance of some sixty to eighty miles, to clear that country of rebels, and to plant forts which should prevent their reassembly at their centres there, and would afford protection to those natives who were disposed to be friendly. The southern part of the country, namely, the Matopo Hills, was afterwards to be tackled by the combined forces on their return from the north. Such was the situation in the beginning of June.

      And now I’ll continue the diary.

       CHAPTER III

      Our Work at Buluwayo

      Organisation of Supply and Transport – The Volunteer Troops – Experiences on Patrol – Sir Charles Metcalfe reports the Enemy just outside the Town – The first sight of the Enemy – Fight on the Umgusa River, 6th June – Maurice Gifford – Reconnaissance of the Inugu Stronghold – Burnham the Scout – Rebellion breaks out in Mashonaland – The Difficulties of Supply – The Humours of Official Correspondence – Colonel Spreckley writ down an Ass – Colonials would serve under Sir Frederick Carrington, but not under the ordinary Imperial Officer.

      4th June.– Office work from early morning till late at night. To say there is plenty of work to be done does not describe the mountain looming before us. The more we investigate into such questions as the force and strong points of the enemy, and the resources at our command wherewith to tackle him, the more huge and hopeless seems the problem.

      Our force is far too small adequately to cope with so numerous and fairly well–armed an enemy, with well–nigh impregnable strongholds to fall back on, and with his supply and transport train ample and effective – as furnished by his wives and children.

      Our force, bold as it is, is far too small, and yet we cannot increase it by a man, for the simple reason that if we did, we could not find the wherewithal to feed it. There is practically no reserve of food in the country, rinderpest has suddenly destroyed the means of bringing it, and here we lie, separated from the railway by a sandy road 587 miles in length!

      Nor on the spot has any adequate provision been made to meet the future wants of the small force we have. All the food–stuffs in the place have been brought together, and the commissariat organisation and system has so far amounted to showing to an officer requiring rations for his troop a pile of stores, with “There you are! Take what you want.”

      One of the first steps has been to telegraph for Colonel Bridge, who had been left at Mafeking, to come and organise a system of transport and supply. Then we have to make a medical staff and an ordnance department.

      In the meantime three columns are being organised, and such provision as is possible is being made for their supply for patrols of about three weeks’ duration, to the northward of Buluwayo. And we hope to start them off to–morrow.

      During the brief intervals from office work for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, one has most interesting glimpses of the sunny street, crowded with throngs of “swashbucklers,” each man more picturesque than his neighbour. Cowboy hat, with puggree of the colour of his corps, short–sleeved canvas shirt, cord breeches, and puttees, with bandolier across his chest, and pistol on his hip, is approximately the kit of every man you meet. The strong brown arms and sunburnt faces, the bold and springy gait, all show them soldiers, ready–made and ripe for any kind of work. Good shots and riders, and very much at home upon the veldt, no wonder that they form a “useful” crew – especially when led, as they are, by men of their own kidney.

      Among the leaders are Micky MacFarlane, erstwhile the dandy lancer, now a bearded buccaneer and good soldier all the time; Selous, the famous hunter–pioneer of Matabeleland; Napier and Spreckley, the light–hearted blade, who is nevertheless possessed of profound and business–like capacity; Beal, Laing, and Robertson, cool, level–headed Scotsmen with a military training; George Grey, “Charlie” White, and Maurice Gifford, for whom rough miners and impetuous cowboys work like well–broken hounds.

      Indeed, the Volunteer troops seem to have thoroughly adapted themselves to the routine of soldiering, as well as to the more exciting demands of the field of action.

      Night guards, daily standing to arms before sunrise, patrols, and other uncongenial duties are all carried out with greatest regularity; but the following amusing account of a morning patrol – which appeared in the Matabele Times this week – shows some of the drawbacks under which they carry on their work: —

      “Standing to arms at 4 a. m. is not in itself a joy, but its cruelty is accentuated when the troop orderly takes that opportunity of informing you that you are to leave the laager at 5.30 and go on patrol to Matabele Wilson’s, in company of three other unfortunates, for the purpose of ascertaining whether the road be clear travelling.

      “On the occasion of which I write this was my fate, and our little party, with noses that needed constant attention with a handkerchief, and numbed fingers clasping cold rifles, stood shivering outside the stable gates, viewing life despondently and swearing at the remount staff. All things, pleasant and otherwise, have an end, and at last, in response to frequent knocks, the gate opened, and we followed a depressed–looking official to where four alleged horses, with drooping heads and downcast mien, disconsolately champed the half–ton of rusty iron which South Africans call a bit, and dreamed of oats. Each man chose a horse, and with the assistance of sundry stable–boys induced him to leave his empty manger and move wearily out into the street. Here great care was necessary in mounting, as it was yet to be ascertained whether the crocks could stand up straight under the weight of a rider, but at last we fell in, and by dint of spur and rein reached the laager.

      “The corporal in charge of the patrol then went to wake up the orderly officer and get his orders, and my horse edged sideways towards the windmill; he wanted something to lean against. By and by out comes the corporal, we awakened our mounts, and started. ‘Our orders are to go out to Wilson’s and meet a patrol from the Khami River, then return to town,’ and ‘You’re not to gallop all the way,’ added the corporal. We