Chapter 82
Chapter 82
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: Battle of Waterberg (2)
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"Lead the tribesmen and break out through Omaheke."
As Samuel Maharero made that decision, the Herero warriors let out groans of dismay.
Escape in the end. It wasn't a choice they could embrace wholeheartedly.
"If we stay like this, not only the warriors but even the ordinary tribespeople will die. Don't we have to save our families?"
But at Maharero's mention of their families, they could only nod grimly with darkened faces.
Families were precious even to the warriors, and reality was far harsher than they'd imagined.
In the end, the Herero abandoned their original plan to hold out in Waterberg and switched tactics to breaking through the German lines and escaping.
Maharero immediately issued orders to the warriors.
"Block the Germans advancing from the north first. Take all the able-bodied men from the tribe and seal off the gorge with rocks, stones, and trees."
"Yes, Chief!"
The gorge between the Waterberg mountains had originally been eyed as an escape route north in case of emergency, but with the Germans marching that way, they had no choice but to give it up to secure their rear.
Confirming the warriors heading off with the tribesmen toward the gorge, Maharero shifted his gaze from north to west.
"You lot head west and draw the Germans' attention however you can."
It was a command tantamount to suicide.
But if their deaths could save the tribe, that was enough.
The warriors accepted Maharero's orders without protest.
"The Germans' new weapon may be powerful, but according to the survivors, it only fires once we're close. If we keep our distance and use the livestock as shields, we can hold out for a while."
"The livestock, sir?"
Even the warriors resolved to die couldn't hide their bitterness at using the tribe's lifeline as shields.
But Maharero's resolve was firm.
Right now, survival came first, even if it meant sacrificing much.
"Understood. Then what will you do, Chief?"
"I'll take the remaining warriors and tribesmen southeast."
"Southeast?"
"H-Hold on, Chief Maharero! If we go that way...!"
Kalahari.
The vast desert spanning Namibia, Botswana, and South Africa.
True to its Tswana name meaning "land of thirst," it was one of the world's driest deserts, rivaling South America's Atacama.
To the Herero and other Namibian tribes, the Omaheke they called it was a parched land of death.
Even Africa's fiercest lions feared to tread there, leaving only tenacious hyenas that gnawed bones and wild African dogs to roam aimlessly.
Stepping into it unprepared could mean dying of thirst before ever escaping.
And this was well-known to the Herero, other African natives, and the Germans alike.
Samuel Maharero planned to exploit exactly that.
"The Germans won't expect us to flee into Omaheke. They'll assume north or west and concentrate their forces there."
That would loosen the encirclement on the opposite side.
The Germans wouldn't imagine the Herero heading into the Kalahari.
'Besides, Leutwein knows full well how dangerous Omaheke is without preparation. The Germans won't pursue easily.'
"We'll cross Omaheke and head to Bechuanaland."
As he'd said during the surrender discussions, the chiefs there were on friendly terms with him and sympathetic to the Herero.
It would surely be safe.
'Of course, there'll be heavy losses.'
Both breaking the German encirclement and crossing the desert.
But in Maharero's view, this was the only way to save as many tribesmen as possible right now.
"Gather as much water as you can. Warriors, follow me!"
"Yes!"
As Samuel Maharero grabbed his rifle and took the lead, the Herero warriors followed.
With the Herero beginning their full-scale move, the Germans stirred into action as well.
"Report from Polkmann's unit! The gorge is blocked; further advance impossible!"
"Blocked? Can't we clear it?"
"Possible, but it'll take at least one or two hours!"
"Hmph, no helping it. Tell them to immediately link up with Fiedler's unit bypassing the mountains northwest and advance from there."
"Yes, sir!"
The messenger saluted at Governor Leutwein's order and galloped back toward the unit.
"One advance route blocked."
"It's fine. We accounted for that. Besides, blocking the path isn't a great choice for the Herero either."
"True. From their perspective, it's like losing a precious escape route."
"Must've been a painful decision. They can't climb that mountain anyway."
Governor Leutwein spoke to Ludendorff, who was updating the unit positions on the map based on the report.
Indeed, the Herero couldn't climb that mountain towering in the heart of the Waterberg plateau.
It wasn't some neighborhood hill but sheer vertical cliffs of rock.
Even professional mountaineers would struggle to scale it barehanded without gear.
"Report from Deimling's unit! Engaging the Herero!"
"How long ago?"
"Fifteen minutes!"
As I gazed at Waterberg Mountain, another messenger appeared and shouted.
Fifteen minutes, huh. Even on horseback, reports take time with these distances.
'A radio would be perfect right now.'
I hope Tesla finishes it soon.
Then I can refine the tech for wireless use.
Bang! Rat-tat-tat! Bang!
Gunfire echoed nonstop from afar, confirming the engagement.
I raised my binoculars to the west, Deimling's advance route.
"The Herero are putting up a better fight than expected."
As I said, the Herero, wary of the submachine guns, kept distance from the German front line, using their cattle as bullet sponges to grimly withstand the assault.
Governor Leutwein groaned at the sight and muttered.
"The Herero are dead set, even using their precious livestock as cover. Deimling will have his hands full. I'll divert a few cannons for artillery support."
'Hm?'
As I watched the battle, a faint sense of unease flickered in my mind.
"Come to think of it, I don't see Samuel Maharero anywhere."
I lowered my binoculars and said to Governor Leutwein.
The Samuel Maharero I'd met wasn't the type to hide behind his men.
Especially not when Herero morale was shaky like now.
He had to be commanding somewhere.
'We absolutely can't let Maharero slip away.'
Tactically victorious or not, it would fail our strategic goal of ending the Herero rebellion here.
It'd be repeating Trotha's mistake.
"Gasp... gasp...! R-Report! Herero warriors led by Samuel Maharero attempting breakthrough southeast!"
Speak of the devil.
Well, lions here in Africa?
Anyway, a soldier gasping for breath, too winded for a salute, shouted it out.
He must've rushed here.
Governor Leutwein, knowing that, didn't scold him but handed over water with a word of thanks, then frowned at the map.
"...Southeast is Omaheke. The road to the Kalahari Desert."
I grimaced at the mention of Kalahari.
It happened in the historical Battle of Waterberg too, under Trotha's command instead of Leutwein.
And Maharero succeeded in crossing the Kalahari to British Bechuanaland despite deaths from German pursuers or dehydration.
But here, instead of the hasty Trotha who'd botched it with glory-hunting, we had Governor Leutwein, who'd methodically suppressed the rebellion over months. And above all, me, who knew the future.
"Good thing I positioned Captain Lettoforebeck's unit and the Nama mercenaries as reserves, just in case. If Samuel Maharero and the Herero got into the Kalahari, pursuit would've been a nightmare."
"Yeah. He'll be in for a shock."
I muttered as I turned toward the east where Maharero should be.
Sorry, Samuel Maharero, but the Herero rebellion ends here.
Bang! Rat-tat-tat! Bang! Bang! Rat-a-tat-tat!!
"...Did the Germans already know we were heading for Omaheke?"
"Chief! There are too many enemies... Gah?!"
A Herero warrior shouting urgently at Maharero was struck by a flying bullet, spewing blood as he fell.
But Samuel Maharero just laughed hollowly, too stunned to issue orders.
The moment the Herero charged their cattle into the German lines to disrupt them and used numerical superiority for a breakthrough, they faced Captain Lettoforebeck's Schutztruppe cavalry and the Nama.
The Herero reignited their will and tried again, but Lettoforebeck countered with machine guns and submachine guns.
Before the Germans' overwhelming firepower, the Herero crumbled helplessly, tilting victory decisively toward the Germans.
"Maharero!"
Then a familiar voice called from ahead.
Hendrik Witbooi.
The man who'd appealed to fight the Germans together despite past grudges but ended up on different paths.
Surrounded by Nama and Germans, he shouted at him.
"The battle's over. Think of your tribesmen and surrender your arms!"
"Don't make me laugh. We won't live like dogs under whites like you Nama!"
One Herero warrior yelled that and charged Witbooi spear-first.
But his spear never reached.
Bang! Bang!
"Chief Witbooi. You alright?"
"Fine shooting. Captain Lettoforebeck."
Hendrik Witbooi nodded slightly in praise and thanks as Paul von Lettoforebeck nailed the Herero warrior with his pistol.
For a white officer, Captain Lettoforebeck was decent.
He showed interest in their customs and tactics, even learning some.
'If all Germans were like the captain or that baron, the rebellion never would've happened.'
He too had once resisted German colonial rule.
He knew well the settlers' abuses.
But Hendrik Witbooi had laid down arms under Governor Leutwein's offer for his tribe's sake.
Now it was Samuel Maharero's turn to do the same for his.
"Surrender, Maharero."
"..."
"If you do, no more blood will spill. The baron promised it."
At Hendrik Witbooi's words, the Herero halted and looked to Samuel Maharero.
A heavy silence fell over the plain where gunfire had ceased.
Amid Herero corpses strewn across Africa's earth, Samuel Maharero stared blankly at the sky.
Thud!
Then he tossed his still-warm rifle to the ground.
"...I surrender."
And that was the end.
At their chief's surrender, the Herero laid down arms one by one with anguished faces.
The women burst into sobs, while the warriors bowed their heads, unwilling to show tears to the Germans and Nama.
News of Maharero's surrender spread swiftly across Waterberg.
Even Herero still fighting the Germans gave up upon hearing their chief was captured.
The end of the Battle of Waterberg.
And the end of the Herero War.
"But we still have business to discuss, don't we? Major Ludendorff."
"...!"
Yet Erich Ludendorff's ordeal was only beginning.