At The Moment
Of The Final Advance The Great Black Cloud Had Burst, And A Torrent
Of Rain Lashed Into The Faces Of The Men.
Slipping and sliding upon
the wet grass, they advanced to the assault.
And now amid the hissing of the rain there came the fuller, more
menacing whine of the Mauser bullets, and the ridge rattled from
end to end with the rifle fire. Men fell fast, but their comrades
pressed hotly on. There was a long way to go, for the summit of the
position was nearly 800 feet above the level of the railway. The
hillside, which had appeared to be one slope, was really a
succession of undulations, so that the advancing infantry
alternately dipped into shelter and emerged into a hail of bullets.
The line of advance was dotted with khaki-clad figures, some still
in death, some writhing in their agony. Amid the litter of bodies a
major of the Gordons, shot through the leg, sat philosophically
smoking his pipe. Plucky little Chisholm, Colonel of the Imperials,
had fallen with two mortal wounds as he dashed forward waving a
coloured sash in the air. So long was the advance and so trying the
hill that the men sank panting upon the ground, and took their
breath before making another rush. As at Talana Hill, regimental
formation was largely gone, and men of the Manchesters, Gordons,
and Imperial Light Horse surged upwards in one long ragged fringe,
Scotchman, Englishman, and British Africander keeping pace in that
race of death.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 115 of 842
Words from 30755 to 31011
of 225456
