The Matabele Campaign

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

CHAPTER I. Outward Bound

CHAPTER II. State of Affairs in Matabeleland

CHAPTER III. Our Work at Buluwayo

CHAPTER IV. Scouting

CHAPTER V. The Rebels Decline to Surrender

CHAPTER VI. Campaign in the Matopos2

CHAPTER VII. Our Work in the Matopos

CHAPTER VIII. Fighting in the Matopos

CHAPTER IX. The Final Operations in the Matopos

CHAPTER X. The Situation in Matabeleland and Mashonaland

CHAPTER XI. The Downfall of Uwini

CHAPTER XII. Shangani Column – Through the Forest

CHAPTER XIII. Shangani Patrol – Return March

CHAPTER XIV. In the Belingwe District

CHAPTER XV. The Downfall of Wedza

CHAPTER XVI. Clearing the Mashona Frontier

CHAPTER XVII. Through Mashonaland

CHAPTER XVIII. The Situation in Rhodesia

CHAPTER XIX. After War – Peace

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What better invitation could one want than that? I accepted it with greatest pleasure.

I had had warning that it might come, by telegraph from Sir Frederick Carrington, who had that day arrived in England from Gibraltar en route to South Africa. He was about to have command of troops in Matabeleland operating against the rebels there. His telegram had reached me at Belfast on Friday afternoon, when we were burying a poor chap in my squadron who had been killed by a fall from his horse. I had a car in waiting, changed my kit, packed up some odds and ends, arranged about disposal of my horses, dogs, and furniture, and just caught the five something train which got me up to town by next day morning. At midday the General sailed for South Africa, but his orders were that I should follow by next ship; so, after seeing him off, I had several days in which to kick my heels and live in constant dread of being run over, or otherwise prevented from going after all. But fortune favoured me.

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Twenty miles beyond Tati we crossed the dry bed of the Ramakan River, the border of Matabeleland. Close by the river stands the ruin of a “prehistoric” fort, built of trimmed stones. There are several similar forts about the country, offshoots of the famed Zimbabye ruins near Victoria.

We nearly killed our General to–day in crossing a dry river bed. The descent into the drift was so steep that the wheelers could not hold back the coach, so our drivers sent them down it at a gallop. Half–way down there was a sill of rock off which the coach took a flying leap into the sand below. We inside were chucked about like peanuts in a pot, and Sir Frederick was thrown against the roof and his head and neck were stiff for some time afterward.

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