Far below by the red ironwork of the railway bridge—­2,000 yards, at least, from the trenches—­the surface of the ground was blurred and dusty.  Across the bridge the Infantry were still moving, but no longer slowly—­they were running for their lives.  Man after man emerged from the sheltered railroad, which ran like a covered way across the enemy’s front, into the open and the driving hail of bullets, ran the gauntlet and dropped down the embankment on the further side of the bridge into safety again.  The range was great, but a good many soldiers were hit and lay scattered about the ironwork of the bridge.  ‘Pom-pom-pom,’ ‘pom-pom-pom,’ and so on, twenty times went the Boer automatic gun, and the flights of little shells spotted the bridge with puffs of white smoke.  But the advancing Infantry never hesitated for a moment, and continued to scamper across the dangerous ground, paying their toll accordingly.  More than sixty men were shot in this short space.  Yet this was not the attack.  This was only the preliminary movement across the enemy’s front.

The enemy’s shells, which occasionally burst on the advanced kopje, and a whistle of stray bullets from the left, advised us to change our position, and we moved a little further down the slope towards the river.  Here the bridge was no longer visible.  I looked towards the hill-top, whence the roar of musketry was ceaselessly proceeding.  The Artillery had seen the slouch hats, too, and forgetting their usual apathy in the joy of a live target, concentrated a most hellish and terrible fire on the trenches.

Meanwhile the afternoon had been passing.  The Infantry had filed steadily across the front, and the two leading battalions had already accumulated on the eastern spurs of Inniskilling Hill.  At four o’clock General Hart ordered the attack, and the troops forthwith began to climb the slopes.  The broken ground delayed their progress, and it was nearly sunset by the time they had reached the furthest position which could be gained under cover.  The Boer entrenchments were about four hundred yards away.  The arete by which the Inniskillings had advanced was bare, and swept by a dreadful frontal fire from the works on the summit and a still more terrible flanking fire from the other hills.  It was so narrow that, though only four companies were arranged in the firing line, there was scarcely room for two to deploy.  There was not, however, the slightest hesitation, and as we watched with straining eyes we could see the leading companies rise up together and run swiftly forward on the enemy’s works with inspiring dash and enthusiasm.