lashes with the rhinoceros hide Kiboko to teach these stiff-necked
"coolies" not to sham again. And as these soldiers lay half dead with
fever on the road, their German jailers gave orders that their mouths
and faces be defiled with filth, a crime unspeakable to a Moslem. Will
the Mohammedan world condone this? The fruit of this treatment was that
eighty of these wretched soldiers died and were buried at Morogoro. But
these prisoners, on their release, marching through the streets caught
sight of two of their erstwhile jailers walking in freedom and security
and going about then daily avocations as if there was no war. These
Germans had, of course, told our Provost Marshal that they were
civilians, and never had or intended to take part in the war. So these
two men on their word, the word of a Prussian, mark you well, were
allowed all the privileges of freedom in Morogoro. One of them, Dorn by
name, a hangdog ruffian, owned the house we took over as a mess, and
tried to get receipts from us for things we took for the hospital, that
really belonged to other people.

But the Indian soldiers' evidence was the undoing of Dorn and his
fellow-criminal. Arrested and put into jail, they were sent to
Dar-es-Salaam for trial by court-martial on the evidence. How the guard
hoped that an attempt to escape would be made, such an attempt as was so
often the alleged reason for the shooting of so many of our English
prisoners. The sense of discipline in the Indian troops was such that,
no matter how great the temptation to avenge a thousand injuries and the
unexampled opportunity offered by a long railway journey through dense
bush, they delivered their prisoners safe in Dar-es-Salaam. It is said
that nothing would persuade Dorn and his comrade to leave the safe
shelter of the railway truck. No, they did not want to go for a walk in
the bush, they would stay in the truck, thank you! No matter how great
the invitation to flight was offered by an open door and the temporary