Imagine you are overseeing a massive, highly
anticipated military operation. You've got overwhelming
numbers, superior firepower, and a clear, seemingly
simple objective. Right. On paper, the odds are
entirely in your favor. It's a sure thing. Exactly.
But then, you know, the reality of the ground
hits and absolutely everything goes disastrously
wrong. Oh, completely wrong. And it doesn't just
go wrong because of standard battlefield tactics
or bad weather. It falls apart due to a phantom
threat that completely doesn't exist. remarkably
polite warning given to the enemy and, well,
an incredibly angry swarm of bees. It sounds
totally absurd when you list it out like that.
It really does. If you think that sounds like
the plot of a surreal over -the -top comedy film,
you are not alone. No, you're definitely not.
But today, we are taking you straight into the
heart of a very real, very chaotic historical
event where truth totally eclipses fiction. It
truly is one of those moments in history where
the sheer cascade of improbable compounding errors
is staggering when you lay it all out. It's really
a masterclass in how rigid thinking can completely
dismantle a superior force. I am so ready to
get into this. Our mission for you today is to
explore the Battle of Tunga. Though honestly,
you might know it by its much more descriptive
and frankly wild nickname. The Battle of the
Bees. The Battle of the Bees. This all took place
from November 3rd to the 5th in 1914, right during
the East African campaign of World War I. Right
at the start of the conflict, really. Yeah. And
for today's deep dive we've distilled a comprehensive
Wikipedia article detailing the battle to really
look at the numbers the mind -boggling blunders
and those bizarre natural interventions that
turned a sure victory into a complete route.
Okay let's unpack this. Well to really understand
how this disaster unfolded you kind of have to
picture the setting. Set the scene for us. We're
looking at Tonga which was a bustling port city
in German East Africa. Today that area is in
modern -day Tanzania. And it's situated just
about 80 kilometers or roughly 50 miles from
the border of what was then British East Africa.
Which is modern day Kenya. Exactly. So it's right
on the doorstep. A really strategic location
then. Extremely strategic. But it wasn't just
any port. It was the ocean terminal for the Zambora
Railway. Ah, railways in wartime. Always the
main target. Always. This railway ran straight
from Tainga all the way inland to Noemoshi. right
at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro. Wow, so it
goes deep inland. Yes. If you control Tanga,
you control the literal engine moving troops,
weapons, and supplies straight into the interior
of the territory. Which means the British absolutely
needed that control to choke out the opposition.
They did. It was vital. Now we know the British
came in with overwhelming numbers to secure this
port. Just how lopsided was this initial matchup?
It was staggeringly lopsided. The British Empire
brought in an invasion force of between 8 ,000
and 9 ,000 troops. 8 to 9 ,000? Yeah, primarily
the Indian Expeditionary Force B. This was commanded
by Major General Arthur Aitken. And they didn't
just march across the border, did they? No, they
didn't just walk there. They arrived off the
coast in a massive convoy. How massive? We are
talking 14 separate troop transports, all of
them escorted by a heavily armed cruiser, the
HMS Fox. 14 transports and a warship for one
port. Just for Tonga. And what were the Germans
working with on the ground at that exact moment?
The initial defending force inside Tonga was
just 250 men. 250, that's it. That's it. That
consisted of German officers and Askaris. Let
me just pause you there because we want to make
sure everyone is on the same page. For those
who might not be familiar with the military makeup
of the time, Askaris were local African soldiers
serving in the European colonial armies, right?
Exactly right. They were local African troops
trained and commanded by the colonial powers.
Got it. So you have this initial force of just
250 of these men, eventually reinforced to about
1 ,000. They were commanded by Lieutenant Colonel
Paul von Letovorbeck and his second -in -command,
former German East Africa company Captain Tom
von Prinz. Okay, my math isn't perfect, but 9
,000 troops backed by a warship against 250 guys.
It's quite the ratio. How does a force that massive
fail? They could have basically walked off the
boats and just occupied the town. They could
have. And they really should have. But it starts
with an incredibly strange change of plans. What
happened? Originally, the Royal Navy was supposed
to simply sit off the coast and bombard Tonga
into submission. Which makes tactical sense.
It does. But there was a neutrality agreement
in place that guaranteed the safety of the capital,
Dar es Salaam, and Tonga. Oh, I see. This accord
ended up being modified though. And the British
commanders decided it was, well, only fair to
warn the Germans that the deal was off before
they launched an amphibious assault. Wait, hold
on. You're telling me they essentially knocked
on the door and said, excuse me, we are about
to invade you? Yes. They actually did that. That
sounds insane for a global war. This isn't just
a quirky mistake. It's a perfect snapshot of
a massive military transition during this era.
What you mean? You have 19th century gentlemanly
warfare colliding head on with the brutal mechanized
reality of 20th century global conflict. The
British were fighting a modern war using obsolete
manners. That context makes it so much clearer,
but it doesn't make it any less baffling to hear.
I know. Because on November 2nd, 1914, Captain
Francis Wade Caulfield of the HMS Fox arrives
at Tonga. He actually goes ashore and literally
gives the city a one -hour ultimatum to surrender
and take down the flag of the German Empire.
One single hour. One hour. But before he leaves
to go back to his ship, he asks the Germans a
question that sets the entire disaster in motion.
He politely asks them if the harbor is mined.
Which is an incredible thing to just ask your
enemy outright. Right. And to be clear, it wasn't.
There were absolutely no sea mines in the harbor.
None at all. But the Germans, who must have been
unable to believe their luck, assure him that
yes, absolutely, the harbor is completely full
of deadly mines. What's fascinating here is how
this single bluff completely unravels the British
timeline. It totally breaks their momentum. Exactly.
Captain Caulfield waits his three hours. The
German Empire flag stays firmly flying over Tonga.
No surrender. Of course not. So Caulfield leaves
to fetch the 14 troop transports. But because
he bought the bluff about the mine's hook, line,
and thinker, he spends November 2nd and a huge
chunk of November 3rd sweeping the harbor for
nonexistent mines. He's clearing an empty harbor?
Yes. He is diligently clearing a completely safe
harbor while the clock is ticking. 36 hours of
chasing ghosts in the water. That delay had to
be the death knell for the invasion. It absolutely
was. That delay gave Lieutenant Colonel Paul
von Lettow -Vorbeck the one thing he desperately
needed. Time. Time. Because remember that railway
we mentioned? The Uzambara Railway running inland
to Nomoshi. Right. The one the British wanted
to control. Lettow -Vorbeck used this exact window
of time to rush to Tonga and Ferry in his reinforcements
by train. Oh, man. He was able to boost his defenses
from a single company. to six companies, bringing
his numbers up to that 1 ,000 mark. They practically
gave the enemy their itinerary so they could
catch the train to the battlefield. They really
did. OK. So Caulfield finally finishes sweeping
for the imaginary mines. And on November 3rd,
the British finally march. Major General Aitken
starts landing troops and supplies. Finally.
They land in two groups, one right at the harbor,
and another about three miles east of the city
on a completely mine -free beach. And at first,
it's totally unopposed. Right. By the evening
of November 3rd, almost all of the British forces
are ashore. The records note the only exceptions
were the 27th Mountain Battery and the fared
-cott sappers. And just to clarify those terms
for you listening, the 27th Mountain Battery
refers to light artillery units that can be broken
down and carried over rough terrain. Usually
by pack animals. And the sappers. The faredcott
sappers were essentially combat engineers. The
guys who build bridges, clear obstacles, and
handle explosives. Got it. Crucial units to leave
on the boats, honestly. Very bad planning. So
Caulfield's delay is over. The troops are mostly
on land. That brings us to noon on November 4th.
Aitken orders his troops to officially march
on the city. But walking into Tonga isn't the
parade they expected, is it? Not at all. Leto
Vorbeck's defenders were incredibly well concealed,
and they immediately began breaking up the British
advance. The fighting really fractured into two
distinct nightmares for the British. How so?
Well, for the Harbor Force, it became bitter,
brutal street fighting. But for the Southern
contingent, it turned into confusing, terrifying
skirmishes amidst dense plantations. If you are
trying to picture this at home, imagine being
an untested soldier walking into a sweltering
coconut and palm oil plantation. It's incredibly
thick vegetation. The vegetation is so incredibly
dense, you can barely see your allies 10 feet
away from you, let alone the enemy firing at
you. That kind of isolation instantly breeds
panic. It's an environment that completely nullifies
the advantage of sheer numbers. Yeah, you can't
use 9 ,000 men if they can't see each other.
Exactly. But to be fair, it wasn't a total failure
immediately. The Cashmere Rifles and the 2nd
Loyal North Lancashire Regiment actually made
very good progress initially. They did push forward.
They managed to push through the chaos into the
town itself. They captured the Customs House,
they took the Hotel Deutscher Kaiser, and they
even managed to run up the Union Jack. So for
a brief moment it looked like they were actually
going to pull it off. It did look hopeful. But
then the momentum just completely hits a brick
wall. The advance stops. Why did the lines suddenly
collapse? A lot of it came down to a massive
disparity in training, cohesion, and morale among
the different units making up that expeditionary
force. Right, they weren't all seasoned veterans.
Far from it. When you are fighting in isolating,
confusing terrain, unit cohesion is everything.
The less well -trained and equipped Indian battalions,
specifically Richard Wabsher's 27th Bangalore
Brigade, they just scattered. They broke ranks
entirely. They were overwhelmed by the invisible
fire from the plantations and they literally
ran away from the battle. And as we know, panic
is highly contagious on a battlefield. Highly
contagious. The accounts show that the 13th Rajputs
failed to play any significant role in the fight
simply because their morale completely collapsed
just from watching another unit, the 63rd Pelham
Cotillite Infantry, retreat. The psychological
aspect of warfare is vividly on display here.
Seeing your own guys run is demoralizing. When
troops see their flanks collapsing and their
allies running, especially when they are already
disoriented, order vanishes very quickly. And
just when you think the situation couldn't get
any more chaotic or the terrain couldn't get
any more hostile for the British forces. Nature
decides to intervene. Yes, the infamous intervention.
Because this is where the 98th Infantry steps
into the picture, or rather, steps into a nightmare.
They are suddenly and violently attacked by massive
swarms of angry bees. And not just a few bees.
We're talking about aggressive, territorial swarms
native to the region. Why were they so aggressive
right then? They had been intensely agitated
by the deafening sounds of machine gun fire and
artillery tearing through the plantations. The
bee attacks are so severe that the 98th infantry
lines completely break up. Men who were just
holding the line against rifle fire drop their
weapons and scatter. They just couldn't take
it. Here's where it gets really interesting.
The B's didn't pick a side. No, they did not.
They attacked the Germans as well. The sheer
volume and aggression of these swarms is exactly
what gave this engagement its famous nickname,
the Battle of the Bees. It's just wild. Let me
get this straight. You have massive artillery,
machine guns, a warship off the coast, and the
deciding factor that shatters the infantry lines
is an angry swarm of local bees. You cannot write
a comedy script better than this. It is deeply
absurd. And as researchers, it's important we
pause here to look at how this event was processed.
after the fact. Because the British had to explain
this somehow. Exactly. The British military had
to explain this monumental, embarrassing disaster
to the public back home. And they couldn't just
say, well, we were chased off by insects. Right.
And we want to be completely impartial in how
we relay this, simply outlining the propaganda
of the era as presented in the historical account.
Yes. Strictly sticking to the sources. So without
taking sides on the politics of the time, how
did they spin it? To excuse the collapse of their
lines, British propaganda later spun the bee
attacks into what they officially called a fiendish
German plot. A fiendish German plot. The military
spin was that the Germans had brilliantly and
maliciously set up hidden tripwires in the plantations
specifically designed to agitate the beehives
as the British troops walked through. Booby -tracked
bees? That was the official story. I mean, when
you have 9 ,000 men running away from 1 ,000
men, you are going to blame whatever you can
to save face. It was a very convenient narrative.
And while the bees were causing absolute mayhem
and stinging everyone in sight, the actual human
reinforcements for the Germans were arriving,
right? That's right. Leto Vorbeck throws in everything
he has left. He brings in his volunteer rifle
companies, the 7th and 8th Schützen Company.
They came by train. Yes. They arrived by railway.
to stiffen the hard -pressed Ascari lines. There's
a slight bit of irony here, too. What's that?
Well, the 8th Schutzen Company was normally a
manned cavalry unit. But in their rush to get
on the train from Noy Moshi, they had to leave
all their horses behind. So they showed up as
infantry whether they liked it or not. Exactly.
And they arrived just in time. By the late afternoon
of November 4th, Lett Alvorbeck realizes this
is the moment to turn the tide entirely. Time
to go on the offensive. This wasn't a coordinated,
polite maneuver. This was a desperate, loud,
final push. He orders his very last reserves,
the 13th and 4th Ascari Felt Company. And the
4th had just gotten there, right? Literally just
stepped off the train in Tonga. He orders them
to envelop the British flank and rear. He orders
bayonet attacks along the entire front. And they
advance to the sound of bugle calls and piercing
tribal war cries. The psychological impact of
hearing that coming toward you through the dense
sweltering brush while half your army is already
running away must have been terrifying. Completely
demoralizing. The historical records describe
the British retreat degenerating into a total
rout. All semblance of order just vanishes. It
was every man for himself. It's reported that
at least three entire battalions of the Imperial
Service Brigade would have been wiped out to
a man if they hadn't simply turned on their heels
and ran for their lives. But amidst all this
routing and retreating, the battle produces one...
final staggering blunder. Another one. And this
time it was entirely on the German side. Remember
even with their reinforcements the Germans were
still outnumbered nearly eight to one. Right.
Caution suddenly overtook some of the German
officers. As night fell Through a series of errors
by their buglers and a catastrophic misunderstanding
by an officer regarding orders to disengage and
consolidate, the Ascari forces actually withdrew.
Wait, hold on. You're telling me they successfully
defended the city against an army eight times
their size, pushed them to the brink, and then
just walked away? They walked right out of the
city. How does a miscommunication that catastrophic
even happen? It was the fog of war at its peak.
They pulled back to a camp several miles west
of Tonga. Several miles. As soon as Leto Vorbeck
learned of this unauthorized withdrawal, he was
furious. He immediately countermanded the move
and ordered his troops to redeploy back to the
city. But they were already miles away. Exactly.
And moving scattered troops in the pitch dark
takes time. That redeployment wasn't completed
until the early morning, which means for nearly
the entire night before the sun rose on November
5th, the city of Tonga was completely entirely
empty. Tonga was Atkins for the taking. He still
had a massive army. The enemy had literally walked
away due to a bugle error, and the city was just
sitting there vacant. Completely vacant. And
the British had absolutely no idea they were
so busy fleeing and panicking back to the beaches
that they missed the fact that they had actually
won the real estate for the night. That is the
most stupendous irony of this entire engagement.
It is a profound tragedy of errors. If the British
command had maintained any reconnaissance, any
scouts, or even basic unit cohesion, they would
have walked right into their objective without
firing a shot. Strolled right in. Instead, they
spent the night scrambling in terror back to
their boats. So what does this all mean? When
the sun comes up, the dust settles, and the bees
finally calm down, What is the actual fallout
of this chaotic few days? The immediate fallout
is a furious and completely frustrated Major
General Aitken ordering a general withdrawal.
They give up entirely. The British evacuation
back to their transport ships lasted well into
the night. And because it was such a panicked
route, the attacking troops didn't pack up. They
left behind nearly all of their equipment on
the beaches and scattered throughout the plantations.
The amount of booty that Leto Vorbeck captured
is jaw -dropping. He essentially got a massive
free resupply drop from the British Empire. It
was a treasure trove. Let me read you this list.
They captured enough modern rifles to completely
rearm three entire Ascari companies. They seized
600 ,000 rounds of ammunition. That number is
just hard to fathom. Think about the physical
space that takes up. Plus 16 machine guns, highly
valuable field telephones, and enough tents,
blankets, rations, and clothing to last the German
colonial forces for an entire year. We cannot
overstate the strategic importance of that captured
equipment. Those rifles, that mountain of ammunition,
and those machine guns played a major role in
allowing Letov Orbeck's troops to actively resist
the Allied forces for the entire rest of the
world conflict. The British essentially, by running
away, armed the exact enemy that would harass
them for years to come. Amidst all of this monumental
military disaster, the blunder of the empty city,
and the spoils of war, there was a really striking
moment of chivalry the next morning. It almost
feels out of place. It really does. On November
5th, British intelligence officer Captain Richard
Meinhardt Hagen actually enters Tonga. He goes
in under a white flag, and he isn't there to
surrender or negotiate terms. What did he bring?
He brings medical supplies, and he carries a
formal letter from General Aitken apologizing
for the British artillery shelling the local
hospital during the fight. It's a poignant reminder
of the human element that exists even amidst
the chaos of war. It's a surreal image. Accounts
note that the streets of Tonga were strewn with
the dead and wounded from both sides. And when
Meinert Hagen arrived at the hospital, he found
German doctors and their African orderlies working
tirelessly side by side. Treating everywhere.
They were treating the wounded impartially, showing
a fine disregard for their patients' uniforms.
Which brings us to the human cost of all this,
which was significant, especially given the completely
lopsided nature of the fight. Let's look at the
casualties. The numbers are sobering. On the
British side, there were 360 men killed, 487
wounded, and 148 missing. On the defending side,
the Germans lost 16 German nationals and 55 Askaris
killed, and they had a total of 76 wounded. Such
a stark difference. What's wild to me is that
Leto Vorbeck initially estimated the British
had lost 800 men and later wrote he believed
the number of British dead was more likely over
2 ,000. He just couldn't logically believe an
army of 9 ,000 had routed so completely without
suffering massive catastrophic casualties. It
didn't compute for him. Another interesting note
on the aftermath is how the prisoners of war
were handled. The Germans subsequently released
the British officers who had been wounded or
captured during the chaos. But they did so only
after those officers gave their word as gentlemen
not to fight again during the war. Paroling an
officer based on a pinky promise is just a completely
different era of warfare colliding with modern
slaughter. It really is a fascinating intersection
of eras. If we connect this to the bigger picture,
the historical consensus is crystal clear. Beaches.
For Paul von Luttevorbeck, the successful defense
of Tango was his first major achievement, solidifying
his legend and kicking off a long, deeply frustrating
guerrilla campaign for the allies in East Africa.
And for the British. For the British. It was
an unmitigated disaster. It was officially recorded
in the British official history of the war as
one of the most notable failures in British military
history. And when you lay it all out like we
just did, it is so easy to see why. We are talking
about a force of over 8 ,000 heavily armed troops,
backed by a warship, entirely undone. Completely
unraveled. They were undone by a polite bluff
about harbor mines that cost them a crucial 36
hours. They were undone by logistical delays
that let the enemy literally take a commuter
train to the battlefield. Which is just incredible.
They were undone by a swarm of angry bees that
shattered their front lines. And finally, they
were undone by their own blind panic, which kept
them from realizing the enemy had completely
abandoned the city in the middle of the night.
It's a sequence of events so absurd you'd be
laughed out of a writer's room for pitching it.
This raises an important question for you to
consider long after we wrap up today's exploration.
I love a good what if. Think about those spoils
of war we mentioned. Those 600 ,000 rounds of
ammunition and these 16 machine guns left sitting
in the sand on the beach. That mountain of supplies.
That equipment, abandoned in panic, sustained
the German resistance in East Africa for the
entire rest of the war. If the British hadn't
fallen for a simple, almost polite bluff about
sea mines on day one, or if they had just maintained
enough discipline to realize the city was completely
empty that single night, could the entire World
War I East African campaign have ended years
earlier. It's a huge shift in the timeline. How
many countless lives might have been spared across
the continent simply because of one less hour
of hesitation? That is exactly the kind of historical
what -if that keeps us digging into these events.
The ripple effects of a single misunderstood
bugle call or a single lie about a sea mine are
just staggering. We want to warmly thank you
for joining us on this custom deep dive into
the Battle of Tonga. We hope it gave you your
aha moment for the day and brought history to
life without feeling like you were stuck in a
lecture hall. Keep questioning the consensus.
Keep looking at the bizarre details and keep
seeking out those fascinating nuggets of history.
right here waiting to unpack the next one with
you.