From Their Number,
The Breadth Of Front Covered, And The Numerous Figures Of Men Moving
About Them, He Estimated Not Fewer Than 2,000 Arab Riflemen In The
Front Line.
How many more were in reserve it was impossible to say.
The position was, moreover, of great strength, being surrounded
by deep ravines and pools of water.
The news was startling. The small force were 125 miles from their base;
behind them lay an almost waterless country, and in front was a powerful
enemy. An informal council of war was held. The Sirdar had distinctly
ordered that, whatever happened, there was to be no waiting; the troops
were either to attack or retire. Colonel Kitchener decided to retire.
The decision having been taken, the next step was to get beyond the enemy's
reach as quickly as possible, and the force began their retreat on the same
night. The homeward march was not less long and trying than the advance,
and neither hopes of distinction nor glamour of excitement cheered the
weary soldiers. As they toiled gloomily back towards the Nile, the horror
of the accursed land grew upon all. Hideous spectacles of human misery
were added to the desolation of the hot, thorny scrub and stinking pools
of mud. The starving inhabitants had been lured from their holes and
corners by the outward passage of the troops, and hoped to snatch some food
from the field of battle. Disappointed, they now approached the camps at
night in twos and threes, making piteous entreaties for any kind of
nourishment.
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