Chapter 214: Friendly Fire?
They set out at dawn and arrived by dusk.
Late at night in the Kazembe Kingdom, a pale moon hung in the sky, shining faintly on a clearing in the middle of a dense forest, located about two kilometers from the capital.
"Have the troops rest for three hours. After marching all day, the men and horses are exhausted. Feed the horses plenty of fodder. Three hours from now, we'll head out for Kazembe's capital. By first light, we'll attack."
"Yes, Captain!"
"There are a lot of mosquitoes outside, and the ground is wet, so let's have everyone gather in one large tent for warmth," the adjutant said.
"All right, let them merge tents."
After walking all day, the soldiers of East Africa's First Cavalry Battalion were completely worn out. They quickly rigged some tarps for rain cover and put together a makeshift shelter. They threw down some dry wood and straw on the ground, huddled around, and fell fast asleep.
The grooms couldn't sleep yet. For the next day's battle, they lit special outdoor mosquito coils, opened small folding stools, and began preparing feed for the horses—tying a small bundle of corn and soybeans, then placing it into each horse's mouth.
…
Adjutant Rawls pulled out his pocket watch from his inside coat. It was already 3:25 a.m., still quite dark. He tapped the captain beside him, who was sleeping soundly.
"Andrew, wake up. Time to move!"
Andrew rubbed his drowsy eyes, yawning.
"Rawls, what time is it?"
"It's East Africa time, 3:25 in the morning."
"We're a bit west of First Town, so dawn here is a bit later. Let's manage our marching speed. We can add a 20-minute buffer so that we arrive just before daybreak at Kazembe's center and strike at first light."
"No problem. Let's rouse everyone so they can wake up on the way."
The cooking squad had already prepared hot porridge in a field pot. They added chili peppers, salted meat jerky, and some unknown wild greens. The nighttime chill left the men cold and exhausted; just a sip of hot porridge gave them a wave of warmth.
"If only it weren't so spicy! My mouth's on fire… ah… whoa…"
"I think it's perfect. A bit of spice wakes me right up, warms my whole body again."
…
They left the grooms and cooking squad behind. The First Cavalry Battalion went forward lightly armed. Two kilometers is only about half a league, not too far. They led their horses quietly under the faint moonlight toward Kazembe's capital.
"Report to the captain: The capital of Kazembe is about five hundred meters ahead," a scout returned to say.
Without electric lights, the Kazembe Kingdom's capital merged into the darkness; it was hard to spot if you weren't looking carefully. Rawls took out his watch and used the moonlight to see the time.
"It's 4:19."
"Prepare for battle. Let's do a final check of the horses and weapons. We attack in eleven minutes," Andrew ordered.
At 4:30 a.m…
"Everyone, mount your horses—get ready!"
"Charge!"
By half past four, the eastern horizon showed a hint of pale light, but the people of Kazembe were still asleep. Rising with the sun and sleeping at sunset describes East Africans, but for these local tribes, it's even more extreme. Many of them don't get up until well into the morning. If there's no farmland to tend, they stay in bed.
Rumble… The thunder of hooves.
"An attack?"
The East African cavalry had ridden through the streets straight to the royal city. Its so-called "royal walls" were just a low stone barrier. Andrew fired his musket at the sentry standing by the fence. The guard of Kazembe panicked, shouting, "The Portuguese are attacking! The Portuguese have turned on us!"
Kazembe's townspeople hid in their huts, unwilling to venture out. They had seen the power of firearms—Portuguese caravans had carried them.
"Santos, sir! Bad news—something's going on in Kazembe's capital," a subordinate urgently reported.
Santos was in the midst of dressing.
"Do we know who's behind it?"
"No idea. But I heard the Kazembe people shouting it's our own doing."
"Our own?"
"They said some Portuguese launched this revolt."
Santos's face darkened. "Such a big operation and they didn't even tell us. Looks like they're not treating us as allies?"
"Sir, we only recently arrived—maybe it was planned beforehand," the man guessed.
"Rubbish! Fighting a bunch of natives isn't that tough. They could have told us. Not even a word. I think they want everything for themselves!"
"What do we do, boss?"
"They want all the gains, but we won't let them. Otherwise, when they're splitting the spoils of Kazembe, they'll kick us out entirely."
Santos placed his hands behind his back, pacing in a circle. "Gather our men. They can't keep it all. We must intervene, or they'll cut us off when dividing Kazembe."
"Yes, sir."
Soon, Santos gathered more than eighty men with firearms.
"Guys, this is our chance to get rich. For Kazembe's sake, come with me!"
…
Andrew and the others had already taken the royal palace. The pitiful Kazembe King was seized like a baby chick in Andrew's grip.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Gunshots suddenly erupted more intensively.
"What's happening? Why all these shots at once?" Rawls asked.
A private ran in. "Captain! A group of unknown armed men just attacked us. Our soldiers have engaged them!"
"How many?"
"Maybe a hundred or so, and their weapons aren't bad. Probably not natives of Kazembe."
"They must have courage, to attack us with a hundred men. Order the unit to wipe them out and capture their leader alive. I want to see who's so bold."
"Yes, sir."
…
"Damn it, why are they shooting at us? Trying to cheat us out of our share?"
It was still dark, so they couldn't see the real situation inside the city. Santos fired back, shouting, "We're on your side! Don't shoot!"
"What are they yelling?"
"Sounds like some local nonsense. Anyway, they're probably Kazembe's elite troops come to help. Hit them hard!"
The only response was continual gunfire. Men kept falling around Santos, making him see red—those were all his people, his capital.
"You devils—fine, I'll fight you!"
He left cover, gun ready, but "Bang!" a shot hit him in the right leg, knocking him down in pain.
"Aah!"
The fight was one-sided. Dawn came quickly, and the East African cavalry finished clearing the battlefield. A grim-faced Santos, dirtied and wounded, was dragged before Captain Andrew.
"Captain, this is their leader."
Santos stared at the familiar Prussian uniform. His mind whirled with conflicted feelings, and he babbled, "Fake… ha ha… all fake… these Prussians… allies… stolen gains… I'm just a joke…"
Andrew crouched and tapped Santos's face. "What's your name? Which faction do you belong to? Who sent you?"
Santos's eyes were dull, and he kept repeating, "Fake… devils… allies…"
Poor Santos had gone insane.
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