Then the march began.
The actual distance from the camp to the Dervish position was scarcely
seven miles, but the circle necessary to avoid the bushes and the gradual
bends of the river added perhaps another five to the length of the road.
The pace of the advance was slow, and the troops had not gone far when the
sun sank and, with hardly an interval of twilight, darkness enveloped
everything. In the stillness of the night the brigades moved steadily
forward, and only the regular scrunching of the hard sand betrayed
the advance of an overwhelming force upon their enemies.
No operation of a war is more critical than a night-march.
Over and over again in every country frightful disaster has overtaken
the rash or daring force that has attempted it. In the gloom the shape
and aspect of the ground are altered. Places well known by daylight appear
strange and unrecognisable. The smallest obstacle impedes the column,
which can only crawl sluggishly forward with continual checks and halts.
The effect of the gloom upon the nerves of the soldiers is not less than
on the features of the country. Each man tries to walk quietly, and hence
all are listening for the slightest sound. Every eye seeks to pierce the
darkness. Every sense in the body is raised to a pitch of expectancy.
In such hours doubts and fears come unbidden to the brain, and the marching
men wonder anxiously whether all will be well with the army, and whether
they themselves will survive the event.
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