A doctor's diary in Damaraland

Contents

CHAPTBR PAOl

T. CAPE TOWN - - • - - 1

II. TO WALFISCH BAY - - - - - 11

Chapter I

Like thousands of loyal South Africans, I offered my services to the Government when the rebellion broke out, but for several months I heard nothing. During the last week in January, 1915, I received a wire from the Director of Medical Services, saying that, if I were still willing to serve, I must report in Cape Town to the Senior Medical Officer not later than February 1. This was rather short notice, seeing that three out of the six days would be taken up in getting to Cape Town. However, feeling that I must be required to fill some important gap in General Botha's armies, I " mobilized " \vithin the time specified, and arrived in Cape Town the last night of January.

Fehrvxiry 1. — Nine a.m. seems to me a reasonable hour in war-time to begin the day's work, so I approach the Castle at that hour to report myself. A very new-looking soldier in very new-looking khaki stands at the gate. He salutes like a clockwork doll. Being still a civilian and inexperienced in taking salutes, I feel rather flattered thereby, until I reflect

2 A;i30i3tpE:S'PIABy..IN DAMAEALAND

that perhaps he is only practising. At last he relaxes. Sentry-like, he can give no information, but he can call the sergeant, and he leaves his post to summon this dignitary. I am directed across the courtyard to the medical quarters, where a sick-parade is going on. A lot of young soldiers in various degrees of undress are waiting outside the doctor's door. They all look bright and well. A sudden silence falls upon them as a vision in khaki and red passes quickly and enters the door, tripping over its spurs as it does so. A moment's interval, and a corporal appears at the door and calls '' Private Smith !" Private Smith's face instantly takes on that look of settled suffering so characteristic of habitues of a sick-parade, and he enters the doctor's room to receive a pill or potion, looking the picture of misery. At the second or third attempt I succeed in attracting the corporal's attention. The S.M.O. does not arrive before ten o'clock.

A little after this hour I return, and am shown into the great man's office. A Lieutenant-Colonel and several Majors, all humble practitioners in civil life, seem to have nothing to do or are leisurely driving a pen. The S.M.O. himself is at the telephone. Some important business transacted, he turns to me. " Yes, I think the D.M.S. wrote to me about you "; and he looks through some papers. " No, there is no mention as to the disposal of an officer of your name; but I will send you over to the A.D.M.S. of the Northern Force, and if he has nothing for you to do, I will try to find you something at Wynberg."

Feeling hurt, slighted, belittled, insignificant, I slink ofi to the A.D.M.S., who officiates in another building. As I enter his office, a red Scotchman emerges, brandishing his income-tax returns. " Look yu herre," he was saying — " look yu herre ! See what I've given up to be slighted like this !" Inside, a military-looking old Major with a very raucous voice is explaining to the A.D.M.S. that he, and he alone, is fitted for a certain billet, and that billet he means to have.

The A.D.M.S. turns to me (we had met in civil life). " Hullo ! you here ? Come to help push the cart ? What would you like to do ?"

I try to stanmier out that I am willing to serve in any capacity. He seemed surprised, and said: " Your middle-aged practitioner is simply impossible. They all want to be Colonels or Majors, and are hufied at the slightest thing." Then he told me that, owing to illness of an officer, there was a vacancy in the M.B.F.A. I accepted with alacrity. Anything to avoid playing at soldiers at the base, where I hear medical officers are falling over each other. But I left the office with misgivings. Was it possible that I had made sacrifices — perhaps comparable to those of the red Scotchman — to take part in Gilbertian comedy ?

The medical training camp is at Wynberg on a sandy flat known as Young's Fields, an ideal place for a camp in the summer, free from flies and dust. Several other Mounted Brigade Field Ambulances are in training here. To-day happens to be payday. Each man receives a sovereign for the month, non-coms a little more. The rest of the pay, £3 10s. or so, is allotted to wife or mother, and not touched by the men. A pound a week certain and no husband must be a godsend to many a poor woman.

With little enough to do, a nice clean tent, a personal servant, a good horse, and the whole Cape Peninsula at my disposal, the first stage of the campaign promises to be pleasant enough.

February 10. — Our medical service is being organized on practically the same lines as that of the Imperial Army. Each brigade of troops, numbering in the case of the mounted brigades between 2,000 and 3,000 men, is to have its own medical personnel, equipment, and ambulance. In the first place there are regimental medical officers, one to each 500 men. The duties of this officer, assisted by trained orderlies, are the health and sanitation of the troops. In case of fighting he is to establish a dressing-station or first-aid post in rear of the firing line, and then to hand over the collection and care of the wounded to the Mounted Brigade Field Ambulance. To assist in the collection of wounded before the ambulance can take over, each fighting unit is to have a few men known as *' regimental stretcher-bearers."

The field ambulance is organized on the following plan. To begin with, it is really two complete ambulances, each capable of acting independently. It is cut up in this way to correspond with the brigade, which consists of two wings — " right " and " left "

they are called, and are really distinct and complete fighting units. Each section of an ambulance is therefore attached to a wing of the brigade, and follows it into action. A section of the ambulance has two subdivisions. One, called the " bearer division," goes out to collect wounded and render first aid, taking over the dressing-stations from the regimental medical officers. The other subdivision remains behind, and is equipped to form a field hospital. If there are more wounded than can be accommodated in the ambulance waggons, or if emergency operations have to be performed, the tent subdivision pitches its tents and establishes a field hospital. A bearer division is under the charge of a medical officer, and consists of mounted orderlies and stretcher-bearers, about fifteen men in all. It has three ambulance waggons and a motor ambulance. The tent subdivision has also a medical officer and the same number of men trained as nurses.

Now, it is not in the plan that a field hospital remain in charge of wounded for many hours, because it must follow the movements of the troops to which it is attached. It must therefore be evacuated at once. In the plan as we have it there is a missing link here, for we have no transport, no personnel, to convey wounded from the field hospital to the base hospital, and we can see it sticking out that our field ambulances will have to do this duty, and we shall thus become detached from, and out of communication with, our brigades. Another weak point, too, is the fact that the officer in command of the whole medical service to a brigade is not on the stafi of the Colonel commanding the brigade, but is in charge of one of the tent subdivisions of the ambulance far in the rear, and out of touch with the movements of the troops. Further, we have no signallers, unless a couple of men carrying flags come under this category, who, of course, cannot be other than useless under the conditions in which we are likely to act. If movements are at all rapid, there can be no doubt that the ambulances will get left behind, get lost, and not be there when wanted. And, to make matters worse, it is not to be expected that irregular forces, like the Burghers, badly staffed, will always remember to give the ambulances timely warning of their intentions.

February 12. — It will be remembered that the rebellion last year delayed the preparations for the invasion of German West. But now, this being over, and General Botha having taken command, preparations for the campaign are being hurried forward. Four distinct columns are to operate against the country. General Mackenzie has his base at Luderitzbucht, the southern of the two German ports. He is held up at Aus, on the edge of the desert, and further advance towards Keetmanshoop is not practicable at present from the Luderitzbucht side. This army is known as the Central Force. Along the drifts of the Orange River from Upington towards the west is a diffuse force under Colonel Van der Venter, known as the Southern Force. Their objective is also Keetmanshoop. The Eastern Force, under

Colonel Berrange, is concentrating at Vryburg. They have to cross the desert through Kuruman to Eietfontein to reach the German border, 300 miles of sand. Keetmanshoop is also their goal, so that these three forces may be said to mutually support each other. If the Germans concentrate against any one of these forces, then their flank and rear will be menaced by the other two.

What, then, is the significance of a small force of infantry collected at Swakupmund, the Germans' other port. They are the nucleus of General Botha's Northern Force. There are collecting at Kimberley, Potchefstroom, and I think Bloemfontein, four large brigades of Mounted Burghers, a total of close on 12,000 men. These are to be shipped to Swakupmund, or rather to Walfisch, quite near, when ready. Colonel Britz commands the 1st Brigade, Colonel Alberts the 2nd, Colonel Myburg the 3rd, and Colonel Marnie Botha the 5th Brigades, who are Free Staters and all volunteers. The 4th Brigade belongs to the Southern Force under Colonel Van der Venter.

Now, mounted men mean movement, and we foresee a rush from Swakupmund to Karibib, Okahandya, and Windhuk, which, if it can be done suddenly and unexpectedly, may result in General Botha's catching the Germans between the Northern Force on the one side and the Central, Southern, and Eastern Forces on the other. As far as one can gather, the Northern Force will be about 20,000 strong, the other three together amounting to a like number.

February 14. — A good deal of time is taken up in lecturing to the men on first aid, hygiene, and so on. Some of our men are very expert, having had long experience in bandaging and ambulance work. The stretcher drill is also very good, and you can teach them nothing in the way of lifting and carrying wounded. In the we have ten or twelve Germans. They come from a German colony in the neighbourhood of King William's Town. They will no doubt be very useful as interpreters, and as far as one can judge their sympathies are with their adopted country.

February 16. — A little to the east of our lines a large camp is being erected for the Burghers. Kitchens, shower-baths, and sanitary accommodation, are being built of wood and iron on a very lavish and extensive scale. Horse-lines are being made by pegging long thick ropes to the ground at intervals. We calculated that this one camp was prepared to receive 4,000 men and a like number of horses.

February 18. — The 3rd Mounted Brigade have arrived in camp here. Their tents, horses, and transport, seem to fill the whole plain. They are men chiefly from Northern and Eastern Transvaal and Northern Natal. There are a good many men of British descent among them, but these are mostly Africanderized and regard the Taal as their mothertongue. They are of all ages — some mere lads, others are grandfathers no doubt; but on the whole they are a likely-looking lot of men well above average size, and inured to camp life and hardship. The oldest among them fought at Majuba, and most of them remember the Tugela. One boyish-looking Burgher told me he was at Spion Kop, aged eleven. Being so young, he was left behind with the horses. A shell burst near and killed the horse he was on, and several others. Consequently he says he is rather nervous about the big guns, but is not afraid of rifle-fire.

They are dressed in khaki shirts and breeches, leggings, a soft felt hat with pugaree. A feather or a piece of coloured cloth on the hat alone distinguishes the commandoes. There is nothing uniform about them, for the Government have bought up all the makes and shades of shirts, breeches, leggings, and hats, that they could lay their hands on. Many of the men wear a coloured handkerchief about the neck, which, with the shirt collar loose, is useful and comfortable, if not very military -looking. Bandoliers are carried over each shoulder, and under the opposite arm. They hold 120 cartridges, but the latter are not arranged in clips. The rifle, for which they have a cover, is carried in a bucket attached to the saddle. They have no bayonets. An overcoat, a large water-bottle, a mess-tin, a haversack, and one blanket, constitute their equipment. Each man has brought his own horse and saddle. Consequently, the horses, if useful, are a very miscellaneous lot as regards colour and size.

Most of the officers, however, look very Anglicized in khaki drill tunics and breeches, irreproachable leggings, boots, and spurs, with helmet and Sam

10 A DOCTOE'S DIAEY IN DAMARALAND

Browne belt complete. They are thus easily distinguished from their men, which is not a very wise arrangement for men going on active service.

February 27. — The Governor-General reviewed Myburg's brigade this afternoon. We were drawn up in squadrons. The whole thing was very impressive, and the march-past, which had been rehearsed in the morning, was very well done. The jBne marching of the ambulance men and their military appearance seemed to receive special recognition.

March 4. — The powers that be have at the eleventh hour ordered a medical examination of the Burghers. For the last two days several of us have been engaged in this work. As we had no instructions to go upon, we just threw out a few who on account of defect or decrepitude were obviously unfitted to undertake the rigours of a desert campaign. On the whole these men from the Northern Transvaal are a well-set-up lot. We passed several tough old boys well into the sixties.

Just before starting this work, somebody told us the yarn that a man with a wooden leg had been accepted somewhere or other; but, although we did them at the rate of something like a hundred an hour, I don't think a man with this defect escaped us.

CHAPTER II March 9. —Punctually at noon the M.B.F.A

arrived at the docks. Three or four troopships were filling up with the 3rd Mounted Brigade and their effects. Our ship is one captured on the west coast early in the war. She is very high in the water, and has main, upper, promenade, and hurricane decks, and a bridge. She looks as if she would topple over the moment she is released from the quay. There is plenty of accommodation for the officers, but the men are crowded together in every available part of the ship.

The holds are crowded with rough plank bunks as close as they can get them, strange housing for the Burghers, who are accustomed to the illimitable veldt. It is very peculiar to see a German ship crowded with Dutch Africanders going to fight the battles of the British Empire against the Germans themselves, and no doubt one that would evoke characteristic utterances from the Kaiser, could he be privileged to see it. By three o'clock everybody seemed to have got on board somehow, and the other transports departed, a Clan liner so crowded with our horses that they could not swing their tails, and another ship with the right wing of the brigade. Kind women had dispensed tea and coSee all round; Smuts, Merriman, and other visitors, had gone on shore, and we seemed ready to start. A cold mist came up, and the friends and visitors melted away. Somebody said we were waiting for some parts belonging to an aeroplane. At 7 p.m. our ship left the docks, steamed into the bay, and anchored in a fog.

March 10. — A good many men were rather wild last night as the effect of excitement. It appears that we are delayed owing to a shortage of stokers, who are expected at any moment. We hear it is quite a problem to find crews for these transports, the demand all over the world being very great for men with nautical knowledge. After breakfast we noticed a steam-launch approaching, and everybody thought it must be the stokers. However, when it got nearer we saw only a policeman and a woman who was standing upon the stern gesticulating wildly, to her imminent peril. Naturally, I thought she was on the tracks of an erring husband, but it turned out she was after a little Boy Scout who thought he would like to go to the war. He, when he found the game was up, quietly slipped down a rope into the launch, and took his seat beside his mother in a most complacent manner. She, too, as soon as she had got him, quieted down and took no further notice of him. I had seen the youngster knocking about the ship with a soldier. He had a shallow, shifty pale blue eye which suggested a doubtful career.

At 3 p.m. we left the bay, one or two very unprofessional-looking stokers having arrived, and several men from among the troops having also volunteered for the work.

March 11. — We are now well at sea, and many of our noisy landsmen are suffering from a reaction. The Captain and the P.M.O., however, are doing their best, and fatigues are being established, in units where discipline prevails, to clean up the ship.

In the evening we had an impromptu concert, of which an electrically driven pianola was the basis. A sergeant who in private life is a circus clown held the boards most of the evening with some rather risky recitations.

March 12. — It is cold this morning, and a thick mist hangs over the sea. The buzzer is going off every minute as a warning to other ships. At 8 a.m. we were 410 knots from Cape Town — that is, we are averaging 10 knots an hour. When I went to have a look at the log, there were two Burghers leaning over the stern and arguing as to how the ship maintained her course in the dark or in a fog out of sight of land. The one man thought that the slender rope towing astern kept the ship in her course. The other looked at this for a while, and then, noticing on the smooth ocean the track of the ship, said: *' Kijk hier, on kerel ! Daar's die pad " (Look there, my boy ! There's the path).

March 13. — We are off Walfisch Bay now. Another fog is on. Indeed, they say there is always fog on this coast at this season of the year. In consequence of the fog we are going very slowly, and sounding every few minutes. About noon it lifted, and we caught a glimpse of a low sandy bank, and on the farther side of it smooth water where a few ships were anchored.

Walfisch Bay opens toward the north. It is protected from the Atlantic on the west by a long sandy bank four or five miles long, which runs out to Pelican Point, where there is a lighthouse. At the southern extremity of the bay is Walfisch itself, very inconspicuous, a few tents and small buildings marking the spot. Two or three miles north is a collection of eight or nine reddish buildings, which we are told is a whaling-station rented by a Norwegian firm; but when the war broke out the fishermen fled ofi to Norway or some equally safe place, leaving everything behind. Eastward is the mainland, a low and arid coast rising here and there into rounded sand-hills. Along the coast close to the shore we can see a train steaming north to Swakupmund. Five or six steamers are anchored in the bay.

A portion of our men went ashore this afternoon. Quite a lot of tugs and lighters seem to be available.

March 14. — Yesterday, talking to an officer who seemed very retiring and quiet, I made somewhat of a faux j)as. I noticed he wore a black badge on his collar, with a leaf in gold thread. To lead the conversation into what I hoped would be an interesting channel, I said: " I see you belong to the aviation corps." He replied that he did not, and looked at me very hard. At lunch I pointed him out to a friend, saying I thought he was an aviator. " That, my dear fellow," I was told, " is the chaplain to the left wing !"

This morning we disembarked. After an early breakfast all the officers came ashore in a tug — the Stork, of East London, by the way. Our Burgher friends were in the best of spirits, relieved, I think, to see terra firma again, however bleak it might appear. They sat there in the tug spinning yarns as only Dutchmen can. We were dumped down on the sand, this hot Sunday morning, without food or orders, and with nothing but our blankets.

Apart from man's handiwork, which is very scanty, there is nothing but sand and water to be seen at Walfisch. To the south and west are sand-flats and lagoons. To the east and north there are sand-hills, rising, in some places, in tiers to hills of considerable height. The surface of the ground looks as smooth as it would if covered by a heavy fall of snow, only instead of the snow you have loose yellowish-grey sand. Spoors, too, resemble those made in the snow, and the tracks of waggons can be seen over the sand-hills for miles and miles. Mirage distorts everything, buildings, hills, and especially men and horses, looking much taller than they are. Horses, particularly, often look very grotesque in the distance, with an ordinary sized body on very spindly legs about 10 feet long.

Buildings there are none, unless one included a few wood and iron shanties in that category. One of these places, distinguished only by a small belfry.

does duty as a church for Anglicans, Romans, Wesleyans, and Dutch Reformed. There are one or two stores, and another place calls itself an hotel. All are in a shocking state of repair, iron rusting, wood rotting, and what little paint they may have had at one time now desquamating freely. When one thinks of our poor friends and neighbours with their fine town of Swakupmund on the open Atlantic, where with luck they can land every third day or so, it does seem as if Britannia had been playing dog in the manger with this splendid harbour, where only two or three ships a year call under normal circumstances. The white population is said to have been thirty-nine at one time, but I think this must be an exaggeration. One man, a store-keeper named Green, has done very well here trading in the Hinterland with Hottentots. He is quite a patriot, and in season and out of season he has emphasized the importance and splendid position of Walfisch, which is the only decent harbour on the whole coast.

Of course, it is all hubbub here now, for it is the one and only base for the whole Northern Force. Twenty-one thousand men and as many horses and mules have to be fed. This means that 500 tons of food, etc., have to be landed daily if a reserve is to be built up. Besides food, even water has to be brought from Cape Town in ships, to say nothing of locomotives, rails, sleepers, waggons, and a thousand and one things necessary to maintain an army in the field. Although Walfisch affords such good anchorage, the surrounding shore is so low that only little bits of sand-bank here and there are not covered by the sea at high-tide. In order to provide space for camps and storage of material, it has been necessary to build an extensive sea-wall to keep the water ofE the flats. Piles have been driven into the sand, to which boards are fastened to the height of 4 or 5 feet, and the whole is backed by piling up sand behind. Dykes, too, are cut in all directions to drain off the water. So far these arrangements have not been very satisfactory, and here and there there are large stagnant lakes of sea-water, in which our war-material soaks continuously, or periodically.

The camps, too, are below the level of high-tide, and are consequently very damp. We have been given a spot for ours which w^as previously occupied by horses, and is much contaminated; so that, where a tent is erected over this warm, wet, manure-sodden sand, the effluvium in that tent is not very pleasant. The flies, too, are numerous as the sea-sand, and are very energetic and voracious. The days are hot and windy, the nights are cold and damp. The water is bad, and there is not much of it. For the animals it is mixed with a certain percentage of salt water. Our food is contaminated with dust, dirt, and flies, so that altogether Walfisch cannot be described as a salubrious spot just now.

There is great difficulty in getting the material ashore, owing to very inadequate pier accommodation. The smaller things, such as boxes of food and perishables, are landed at a small jetty in tugs and barges, and stored on a little ridge of sand which is, fortunately, a little drier. The animals and heavy material are brought from the ships on rafts. A tug tows the rafts inshore as far as it can, then about fifty or sixty natives pull the rafts in until they ground. Through the shallow water the smaller things are carried, and the larger, such as rails, are towed through the water by means of a rope attached to a winch on the shore. About 3,000 natives are engaged in this work at two shillings a day and their rations. Gangs are working night and day, Sundays included, and their sonorous chanting as they pull on the ropes never ceases.

A very conspicuous structure in Walfisch is the Condenser, a row of boilers and four tall iron chimneys. It comes from America, and the man in charge says it is supposed to supply 80,000 gallons a day but is only doing half this amount. Similar plants elsewhere are also doing very badly. This condensed water is most insipid. The water is conveyed to the various camps in a large barrel d la garden roller, much being lost in transit and also when attempts are made to get it out of the barrel.

The camp is so malodorous and damp that the O.C. and I decided to take up our quarters for the night in some empty railway trucks standing near. We have chosen one with high sides and a little straw in it, which, besides being dry, affords some shelter from the cold, damp sea-breeze which comes up after sunset.

March 15. — This morning I explored the sand-flats towards the south-west; they extend for many miles, and every now and then there is a lagoon. Evidently the sea is gradually receding here, and sand-hills can be seen in the making from the earliest stages. The wind and tide collect a little debris in one place. This debris consists of dry seaweed, dead birds, etc. A little sand is washed up around this nucleus. Every wind and tide adds to this little mound, which by-and-by becomes quite big. After a while a little coarse vegetation appears, and the growth and permanence of this embryo sand-hill is assured. These various stages in the growth of a sand-hill are so obvious on the flats here that there can be no doubt as to how they are formed.

Above the level of the water and among the sand-hills two species of beetles are to be found in great numbers. One is a greenish-bronze colour, and is about half an inch long. It runs in a quick, jerky way, and finally escapes by flying. The other is black and rather smaller. It is very timid, and runs with incredible quickness when approached, swaying from side to side as an ostrich does. These beetles are very conspicuous objects on the dunes, especially the black one, and they exhibit wonderful nimbleness and agility in negotiating the little irregularities in the sand.

Two kinds of birds were noticeable — a small wader and a pale salmon-coloured flamingo. The latter is a very beautiful bird about 3 feet high, and frequents the lagoons in small flocks of twenty or thirty.

Out on these flats there are ten or twelve blockhouses protecting the camp. These blockhouses are