Tmagine a warm soft night, bril-hantly starlit but with no moon. The sky overhead a deep blue black. Sand underfoot faintly shimmering and still warm from the overpowering heat of an August day in mid desert. Beyond range of the human eye sand and. sky merge into deep violet. The silence is broken only by the sound of the company mounts, ill-tempered, complaining, grunting desert camels, the low murmur of the men, the clank of water cans of fantasies, and the wailing song of Egyptian drivers.
"Kham lolo Kham Youn—how many nights, how many days! The company is on a reconnaisance march. Last night at 11 we saddled and started out West on a five-day) patrol, taking with us each man-his sack of dhurra—feed for his mount, and a corresponding weight of water in his fantasie for himself. At midday to-morrow we will leave behind us our baggage camels with three days' supply of water for us all, and turn to the south-west, describe an are to north and return to our. temporary water dump in three and w half days from now. Our food is the inevitable bully, bis-cults, onions, dried dates, plenty of tea and sugar, and a tin of milk per day between eight of us, as compared with one between 16 im camp, desert rations for tea being double the amount allowed in camp, as we must not drink the precious water.
Our dress is helmet, shirt, spine-pad, shorts, puttees, socks and boots—a simple one: our weapons, rifle, bayonet and 300 rounds.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.