The War in Africa was unfolding just as it had in Bruno’s past life. General der Infanterie Paul Emil von Lettow-Vorbeck, who had earned himself the nickname “the Lion of Africa” in his past life, was proving to be every bit as much a menace to the Allied invasion of German colonial territories within the continent as he had been then.
Outmanned by several hundred thousand men and outgunned against an enemy largely equipped with modern weapons, von Lettow-Vorbeck and his troops used firearms and artillery primarily issued during the previous century.
The German general was regarded as the leader of the single most effective guerilla campaign in human history, and rightfully so. This absolute madman was leading a force of 2,700 primarily local African colonial conscripts against an enemy invasion of 20,000 British soldiers.
These were, of course, just the initial figures. By the end of the Great War in Bruno’s past life, General der Infanterie Paul Emil von Lettow-Vorbeck had commanded a maximum force of 18,000 men, holding off 250,000 Allied troops in the East African Campaign for four full years, and was the last German general to surrender in the war.
This was 250,000 men who could have been sent to Europe but were instead tied up in the colonies, where they suffered nearly ten deaths for every German Schutztruppe killed in action. His success in the war had been a near-mythical feat, one that, sadly, remained unknown to the majority of people long after he accomplished it.
In this life, Bruno had worked behind the scenes to ensure that the Schutztruppe under the command of the Lion of Africa was equipped with the modern weapons needed to kill ten times the already astonishing number they had in Bruno’s past life.
Because of this, the highly mobile guerilla force was armed with G-43 semi-automatic rifles, MP-34 submachine guns, MG-34 general-purpose machine guns, and man-portable mortars in the 60mm, 81mm, and 120mm varieties.
In addition, they were equipped with 7.5cm FK 16 NA field guns, which were lighter in weight and could be carried by pack horses. Their uniforms were mostly the same, but instead of the infamous pith helmets, they used 1916 pattern Stahlhelms to protect their skulls from enemy artillery fire.
This would, hopefully, reduce casualties. Paul Emil von Lettow-Vorbeck, unlike other commissioned officers and NCOs who favored the rapid-fire MP-34 submachine guns, much preferred the semi-automatic G-43. This already gave him a substantial increase in rate of fire over his foes, while also providing superior range, accuracy, and control over how he spent his limited munitions.
Because of this, he sat on horseback with the rifle slung across his back, gazing through his binoculars at the British expeditionary force sent into German East Africa to deal with him and his men.
The British were expecting a full surrender, but instead, General von Lettow-Vorbeck surprised his enemies by withdrawing his troops, weapons, and supplies as they fled deeper inland, forcing their adversary to pursue them.
The British had yet to actually see combat as they had not been capable of landing troops into France. Even now, despite their redoubled efforts to do so, they were eager for a victory and had quickly fallen into the trap which the Lion of Africa had laid for them.
His men were hiding behind a berm, with their rifles and machine guns laid bare in the prone position, while mortars and artillery hiding in the bush were already loaded and aimed at the advancing British forces.
Upon seeing the British colonial army caught in his trap, General von Lettow-Vorbeck could not help but sigh and shake his head as he commented on how easy this victory would be, all while speaking to his second-in-command.
“I honestly did not expect them to pursue us to this extent, with little regard for their surroundings. Tell me, my old friend, is their commander an absolute fool? Or are things going so poorly for them in Europe that they feel the need to chase us relentlessly without caring for their own survival, all in pursuit of some vain sense of victory?”
The officer second-in-command to General von Lettow-Vorbeck did not reply directly but reached back to the phone attached to his radio communications backpack, where he gave the order to open fire-first with mortars and artillery, then with a crossfire of machine guns and rifles-to thoroughly obliterate the 20,000 British soldiers who had pursued them into the German East African wilderness.
“Fire on the enemy position! On my mark! 3… 2… 1… Unleash Hell!”
The British officer tasked with leading the force that outnumbered the German Schutztruppe was a man by the name of Major-General Sir Arthur Reginald Hoskins. He was a highly decorated senior officer of the British Royal Army, having served in various colonial conflicts over the past few decades.
Among his accolades was command over forces during the Second Boer War. To say he understood the modern battlefield, in comparison to the haughty and foolish old men at the helm of the European theater back home, was an understatement.
Even so, his orders were simple: pursue, rout, and destroy the Germans in East Africa should they refuse to surrender. And refuse to surrender they had. Because of this, he was forced to play a game of cat and mouse under the African sun, dabbing his neck, which was sweating profusely, with a handkerchief while he commented on the dreadful climate.
“I swear, three generations of my family could live here, and we would never quite become accustomed to the local weather. I do hope we manage to find the enemy soon, as I would hate to spend another day in this horrific climate…”
Just as he said this, a mosquito bit his neck. He quickly slapped it with his palm, killing the insect on the spot, all while demanding a ration of medication used to stave off malaria, which the British general feared contracting.
“Oi! You there, yes, you! Break out the quinine! I’ve had enough of these abominable mosquitos for one day, and I’ll be damned if I get ill because of these damned little buggers!”
The colonial soldier required translation for the English words spoken to him, a task about to be performed when the thunder of guns echoed in the distance. The moment the British general heard this, he knew it wasn’t the weather-it was an ambush. He cried out an order to his soldiers.
“My God… Get down! All of you-”
It was too late. A 75mm shell fired by German artillery from within the bush struck almost directly on top of the British general, killing him and his entire command staff in an instant. Afterward, more barrages fired by German artillery and mortars struck the British army as they struggled to unhitch their heavy machine guns and field guns from their pack mules.
But before they could do so, the pitter-patter of machine guns and semi-automatic rifles erupted across the bush, sealing their fate.