ttackers have no chance of getting home. People will keep
on talking as if courage did these things. What the devil's the use of
the bravest man with half-a-dozen bullets through him? It is just as
certain as anything can be that, if the Highlanders had "gone on," in
two minutes not a man would have been left standing. Already in the
brief instant that they stood, dazed by the fire, they lost between six
and seven hundred men. The Black Watch was in front, and nineteen out of
twenty-seven officers were swept down. You might as well talk of "going
on" against a volcano in eruption.

I am writing this on the day after the action in my favourite
lurking-place by the side of the river under the evergreens and big
weeping willows that overhang the sluggish water. Our own small camp is
close to the stream, and here every morning the Highlanders are in the
habit of turning up, usually with much laughing and shouting, to bathing
parade. There is no laughing this morning, only sad, sullen faces,
silence and downcast looks. Still they are glad to talk of it. A few
come under the shade of my tree, and sit about and tell me the little
bit that each saw or heard. You only get a general impression of chaos.
Some tried to push on, some tried to extend, some lay down, and some ran
back out of close range and took up such cover as they could get. This
was, luckily, pretty good, there being a lot of bush and rocks about,
and here they gradually crawled together and got into some sort of
order, and kept up a counter fire at the Boer position. The Brigade,
however, had been badly shaken, and as hour after hour passed all
through the blazing day, and they were kept lying there under the fire
of an entrenched enemy, exhausted and parched with thirst, their
patience gradually failed, and they made another rush back, but were
rallied and led up again to where the Mausers might play on them. They
were not allowed to retire till after five, when all the troops were
withdrawn--that is, until they had been shot over at close range for
about fourteen mortal hours.

The Brigade was asked to do too much, and when at last they staggered
out of action, the men jumped and started at the rustle of a twig. It's
a miserable thing when brave men are asked to do more than brave men can
do.

One thing that added to the panic was that none, at least among the men
and junior officers, knew anything at all about the trench. They thought
they were going to sto