The fact that he was about to do so, and even the hour of the start, appear to have been the common property of the camp some days before the actual move.  The ‘Times’ correspondent under the date December 7th details all that it is intended to do.  It is to the credit of our Generals as men, but to their detriment as soldiers, that they seem throughout the campaign to have shown extraordinarily little power of dissimulation.  They did the obvious, and usually allowed it to be obvious what they were about to do.  One thinks of Napoleon striking at Egypt; how he gave it abroad that the real object of the expedition was Ireland, but breathed into the ears of one or two intimates that in very truth it was bound for Genoa.  The leading official at Toulon had no more idea where the fleet and army of France had gone than the humblest caulker in the yard.  However, it is not fair to expect the subtlety of the Corsican from the downright Saxon, but it remains strange and deplorable that in a country filled with spies any one should have known in advance that a so-called ‘surprise’ was about to be attempted.

The force with which General Gatacre advanced consisted of the 2nd Northumberland Fusiliers, 960 strong, with one Maxim; the 2nd Irish Rifles, 840 strong, with one Maxim, and 250 Mounted Infantry.  There were two batteries of Field Artillery, the 74th and 77th.  The total force was well under 3000 men.  About three in the afternoon the men were entrained in open trucks under a burning sun, and for some reason, at which the impetuous spirit of the General must have chafed, were kept waiting for three hours.  At eight o’clock they detrained at Molteno, and thence after a short rest and a meal they started upon the night march which was intended to end at the break of day at the Boer trenches.  One feels as if one were describing the operations of Magersfontein once again and the parallel continues to be painfully exact.

It was nine o’clock and pitch dark when the column moved out of Molteno and struck across the black gloom of the veld, the wheels of the guns being wrapped in hide to deaden the rattle.  It was known that the distance was not more than ten miles, and so when hour followed hour and the guides were still unable to say that they had reached their point it must have become perfectly evident that they had missed their way.  The men were dog-tired, a long day’s work had been followed by a long night’s march, and they plodded along drowsily through the darkness.  The ground was broken and irregular.  The weary soldiers stumbled as they marched.  Daylight came and revealed the column still looking for its objective, the fiery General walking in front and leading his horse behind him.  It was evident that his plans had miscarried, but his energetic and hardy temperament would not permit him to turn back without a blow being struck.  However one may commend his energy, one cannot but stand aghast at his dispositions.  The country was wild and rocky, the very places for