It was not the fault of the infantry that it was not
so. They were trudging, mud-spattered and jovial, at the very heels
of the horses, after a forced march which was one of the most
trying of the whole campaign. But an army of 20,000 men cannot be
conveyed over a river twenty miles from any base without elaborate
preparations being made to feed them. The roads were in such a
state that the wagons could hardly move, heavy rain had just
fallen, and every stream was swollen into a river; bullocks might
strain, and traction engines pant, and horses die, but by no human
means could the stores be kept up if the advance guard were allowed
to go at their own pace. And so, having ensured an ultimate
crossing of the river by the seizure of Mount Alice, the high hill
which commands the drift, the forces waited day after day, watching
in the distance the swarms of strenuous dark figures who dug and
hauled and worked upon the hillsides opposite, barring the road
which they would have to take. Far away on the horizon a little
shining point twinkled amid the purple haze, coming and going from
morning to night.
Pages:
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410