WHEN I landed at Dar-es-Salaam in January, 1914, I hardly suspected the nature of the task that was to confront me in a few months’ time. But during the past ten years the universal war had more than once seemed so imminent that I was obliged seriously to consider whether the force under my command would be called upon to take any part in that conflict, and, if so, what its task might be. Owing to the position of the Colony and the weakness of the existing forces—the peace establishment was but little more than two thousand—we could only play a subsidiary part. I knew that the fate of the colonies, as of all other German possessions, would only be decided on the battlefields of Europe. To this decision every German, regardless of where he might be at the moment, must contribute his share. In the Colony also it was our duty, in case of universal war, to do all in our power for our country. The question was whether it was possible for us in our subsidiary theatre of war to exercise any influence on the great decision at home. Could we, with our small forces, prevent considerable numbers of the enemy from intervening in Europe, or in other more important theatres, or inflict on our enemies any loss of personnel or war material worth mentioning? At that time I answered this question in the affirmative. It is true, however, that I did not succeed in interesting all authorities in this idea to such an extent as to cause all preparations which a war of this kind rendered desirable to be carried out. It was to be considered that hostile troops would allow themselves to be held only if we attacked, or at least threatened, the enemy at some really sensitive point. It was further to be remembered that, with the means available, protection of the Colony could not be ensured even by purely defensive tactics, since the total length of land frontier and coast-line was about equal to that of Germany. From these considerations it followed that it was necessary, not to split up our small available forces in local defence, but, on the contrary, to keep them together, to grip the enemy by the throat and force him to employ his forces for self-defence. If this idea could be successfully carried out, we should at the same time protect our coast and our infinitely long land frontier in the most effective manner. In examining the question where to find a point so vital to the enemy as to afford us the prospect of a successful attack, or, at any rate, of a threat of such an attack, one thought at once of the frontier between German and British East Africa. Parallel with it, at a distance of a few marches, runs the main artery of the British territory, the Uganda Railway, an object which, with a length of quite 440 miles, was extremely difficult for the enemy to protect, and would, therefore, if effectively threatened, require a large part of his troops for the purpose. [Illustration: Fig i. and iii. Kilima Njaro. Fig. ii. German East Africa. The Central Railway.]