Yesterday only saw the last of Lettow's army crossing the bridge and
echoed to the noise of the explosion that blew up the concrete pillars
and forced our pioneers to build a wooden substitute. Alas! for the
best-laid schemes of our General. The bird had escaped from the closing
net, and Lettow was free to make his retreat in safety to the Southern
Railway. Here at Turiani for a moment it seemed that the campaign was
over. Up from the big Mission at Mhonda, the mounted troops swept out to
cut off the German retreat. All unsuspected, they had made then-big
flank march to meet the eastern flanking column, and cut the road behind
the German force in a pincer grip. But the blind bush robbed our
troopers of their sense of direction, and the long trek through
waterless bush, the tsetse fly and horse-sickness that took their daily
toll of all our horses reduced the speed of cavalry to little more than
a walk. A mistake in a bush-covered hill in a country that was all hill
and bush, and the elusive Lettow slipped out to run and hide and fight
again on many another day.




SCOUTING


Of the many aspects of this campaign none perhaps is more thrilling than
life on the forward patrol. For the duty of these fellows is to go
forward with armed native scouts far in advance of the columns, to find
out what the Germans are up to, their strength, and the disposition of
their troops. Their reports they send back by native runners, who not
infrequently get captured. Like wolves in the forest they live, months