Kinangop: A Settler’s Story Part 8 Raid on Fort Moyale by John W Etherington
Kinangop: A Settler’s Story part 8
John Westall Etherington, born in England on August 25, 1901, came to Kenya as a young man in 1920. He fell in love with Kenya and went on to marry and have three children as he developed three farms. At independence he reluctantly sold his land and moved to New Zealand. John Etherington died in New Zealand on November 13, 1991. His son Dan edited his father’s memoirs. Old Africa is condensing and serialising the story. John first came to the Kinangop area to work in a sawmill. Later he bought his own farm by Karati Falls, which he sold, buying other land on the Kinangop. In 1930 John married Féy Nightingale. Together they weathered the Great Depression and started a family. With a world war looming, John joined the Reconnaissance Regiment and prepared for war in the Northern Frontier District (NFD). The story continues… June 10, 1940 Bulstrade and Carter, out for an evening stroll, were captured by ‘Banda’ inside British territory. We left for Ajao the next morning at 5.30 am. We had real purpose in our patrols now. Four of our planes flew over at 11 am returning from a raid on Italian Moyale. At dawn on June 12 we left for Moyale, convoying a platoon from the King’s African Rifles (KAR). We arrived at 11 am without incident. We passed Korondil, a superb massif full of baboons. At the fort in Moyale we heard there had been some
interchange of fire between the two Moyales and our planes had bombed Italian positions the day before. We started to leave the fort at 2.30 pm but our three recce cars and three KAR transports were delayed by a closed gate they said was open. Suddenly air raid sirens sounded in the fort. Three Caproni bombers appeared from the north, flying at about 3000 feet. A few seconds later they dropped their eggs. We opened up with every available weapon. We were completely exposed. I felt scared and angry – the swine were trying to kill me! Bombs fell in the fort and all around. The planes passed over and turned to the east. We hastily cut the wire and cleared out. On June 14 we convoyed another platoon to Moyale, where we experienced a similar air raid that afternoon. We loosed off a lot of ammo from Brens and rifles, apparently to no effect. A small chip from a bomb cut my cheek slightly. That evening we headed out on a risky mission. We slipped out of the north gate of the fort – two NCOs, four troopers, a sapper sergeant and three men plus an African guide. He led us down a circuitous route to the wells serving Italian Moyale. They sappers mined the wells while we mounted guard. When the fuses were lit, we proceeded ahead while the sappers returned to the fort. We tramped for miles through thorn bush and low scrub. About midnight, scratched and weary,
2 8 . . . . . . S t o r i e s f ro m E a s t A f r i c a ’s p a s t
we emerged from the bush where some buildings were silhouetted against the moonlit sky. We heard someone talking on a radio. We had to wait one-and-a-half hours for the moon to set before we could attack. At last zero hour arrived. George Llewelyn of Nanyuki, our sergeant, and I crawled forward. We encountered a low trip wire, which could be avoided. I crawled back along the wet, dewy track and called the others. We slowly advanced until we seemed to be under the walls of the Italian fort, which was situated on a fairly steep rise. George stood up and heaved his bomb. It landed on the corrugated iron and for an awful moment we thought it would roll back on top of us. Then it rattled over and fell into the compound. It was set to explode in seven seconds. How long a period! The bomb went off with a loud explosion. A man stood up, clearly visible against the sky, and George got a point blank shot at him. A second later the Italians let off a fusillade of shots. We returned fire. When the firing slackened, we lobbed hand grenades into the fort. The firing that ensued went over our heads. But then they threw a grenade, which exploded unpleasantly close. This struck us as not playing the game at all, so we fired a few parting shots before returning to camp by an incredibly tortuous route. We arrived at sunrise, very weary. Italian planes passed over but failed to see us…To be continued
issue No.29
June-July 2010