"Sweet are the uses of adversity."
Once more was I fated to essay the task of defending Duffer's Drift.
This time I had twenty-two lessons below my belt to help me out, and
in the oblivion of my dream I was saved that sense of monotony which
by now may possibly have overtaken you, "gentle reader."
After sending out the patrols, and placing a guard on Waschout Hill,
as already described, and whilst the stores were being collected, I
considered deeply what position I should take up, and walked up to the
top of Waschout Hill to spy out the land. On the top I found a Kaffir
kraal, which I saw would assist me much to concealment should I
decide to hold this hill. This I was very inclined to do, but after a
few minutes' trial of the shape of the ground, with the help of some
men walking about down below, and my eyes a little above
ground-level--I found that its convexity was such that, to see and
fire on the drift and the approach on the south side, I should have to
abandon the top of the hill, and so the friendly concealment of the
Kaffir huts, and take up a position on the open hillside some way
down. This was, of course, quite feasible, especially if I held a
position at the top of the hill as well, near the huts on the east and
southeast sides; but, as it would be impossible to really conceal
ourselves on the bare hillside, it meant giving up all idea of
surprising the enemy, which I wished to do. I must, therefore, find
some other place which would lend itself to easy and good concealment,
and also have the drift or its approaches under close rifle-fire. But
where to find such a place?
As I stood deep in thought, considering this knotty problem, an idea
gently wormed itself into my mind, which I at once threw out again as
being absurd and out of the question. This idea was--to hold the river
bed and banks on each side of the drift! To give up all idea of
command, and, instead of seeking the nearest high ground, which comes
as natural to the student of tactics as rushing for a tree does to a
squirrel, to take the lowest ground, even though it should be all
among thick cover, instead of being nicely in the open.
No, it was absolutely revolutionary, and against every canon I had
ever read or heard of; it was evidently the freak of a sorely tried
and worried brain. I would none of it, and I put it firmly from me.
But the more I argued to myself the absurdity of it, the more this
idea obtained possession of me. The more I said it was impossible, the
more allurements were spread before me in its favor, until each of my
conscientious objections was enmeshed and smothered in a network of
specious reasons as to the advantages of the proposal.
I resisted, I struggled, but finally fell to temptation, dressed up in
the plausible guise of reason. I would hold the river-bed.