The details of the enemy’s defences were now known; his strength was estimated from trustworthy information.  It was evident from the frequent desertions that his army was disheartened, and from his inactivity that he was scarcely hopeful of success.  The moment for destroying him had arrived.  At daybreak on the morning of the 6th the whole army broke camp at Abadar and marched to the deserted village of Umdabia, where they bivouacked close by a convenient pool of the Atbara and seven miles nearer the Dervish camp.

CHAPTER XII:  THE BATTLE OF THE ATBARA

April 8, 1898

In the evening of Thursday, the 7th of April, the army at Umdabia paraded for the attack on Mahmud’s zeriba.  The camp lay in the scrub which grows by the banks of the Atbara, as by those of the Nile, and in order to profit by the open, level ground the four infantry brigades moved by parallel routes into the desert, and then formed facing south-east in column of brigade squares, the British brigade leading.  The mounted forces, with four batteries of artillery, waited in camp until two o’clock the next morning, and did not break their march.  The distance from the river bank to the open plain was perhaps a mile and a half, and the whole infantry force had cleared the scrub by six o’clock.  The sun was setting, and the red glow, brightening the sandy hillocks, made the western horizon indefinite, so that it was hard to tell where the desert ended and the sky began.  A few gazelle, intercepted on their way to the water by the unexpected movement of troops, trotted slowly away in the distance—­ white spots on the rosy-brown of the sand—­and on the great plain 12,000 infantry, conscious of their strength and eager to encounter the enemy, were beautifully arranged in four solid masses.  Then the march began.  The actual distance from the camp to the Dervish position was scarcely seven miles, but the circle necessary to avoid the bushes and the gradual bends of the river added perhaps another five to the length of the road.  The pace of the advance was slow, and the troops had not gone far when the sun sank and, with hardly an interval of twilight, darkness enveloped everything.  In the stillness of the night the brigades moved steadily forward, and only the regular scrunching of the hard sand betrayed the advance of an overwhelming force upon their enemies.

No operation of a war is more critical than a night-march.  Over and over again in every country frightful disaster has overtaken the rash or daring force that has attempted it.  In the gloom the shape and aspect of the ground are altered.  Places well known by daylight appear strange and unrecognisable.  The smallest obstacle impedes the column, which can only crawl sluggishly forward with continual checks and halts.  The effect of the gloom upon the nerves of the soldiers is not less than on the features of the country.  Each man tries to walk quietly, and hence all are