attle which the Sirdar meant shortly to
give him. We were going to march out, attack, and storm the Khalifa
and his great army in their chosen lines and trenches. In a way we
felt half-heartedly grateful to our sportsmanlike enemy for not having
harassed our marches or bivouacs. We were, within the next hour or so,
to have yet more to thank the dervishes and their Khalifa for. Truly
Abdullah was amazingly ignorant of war tactics, or astoundingly
confident in the prowess of his arms. From the reckless, magnificent
manner in which the dervishes comported themselves in the earlier
stages of the fight that ensued, I incline to the belief that the
Khalifa and his men, true to their crass, credulous notions, were
overweeningly confident in themselves. A fatal fault, they underrated
their opponents. His Emirs, Jehadieh, and Baggara had so often proved
themselves invincible in their combats against natives of the Soudan,
that they had come to hold that none would face their battle shock.
There was pride of countless triumphs, and the long enjoyment of
despotic lordship that hardened their wills and thews to win victory
or perish. I failed later to see the old fanaticism that once made
them, though pierced through and through with bayonet or sword, fight
till the last heart-throb ceased. Let me not be misunderstood. Despite
their possible doubts about the Khalifa's divine mission, the dervish
army fought with courage and dash until they were absolutely broken.
Their personal hardihood bravely compared with the days of Tamai and
Abu Klea. It was when the fight was nearly over that there were
evidences of that of which there was so little in the old days, viz.,
that a large remnant would accept life at our hands. Again, as the
sequel showed, the Sirdar's star was in the ascendant.

Everything was in readiness in our camp by 5 a.m. Camels, horses,
mules, and donkeys had been watered and fed, and the men had disposed
of an early breakfast of cocoa or tea, coarse biscuit, and tinned
meat. Infantry and artillery had made sure of their full supply of
ammunition, and the reserve was handy to draw more from. Tommy Atkins
carried 100 rounds of the new hollow-nosed Lee-Metford cartridges.
Behind him were mules loaded with a further twenty rounds for him. The
Khedivial soldiers had 120 rounds of Martini-Henry cartridges. To hark
back: at 4.30 a.m., ere dawn had tinged the east, the Sirdar bade
Colonel Broadwood, commanding the Egyptian cava