The afternoon was spent in carrying out our reconnaissance. A
reconnaissance is undertaken with a view to exposing the enemy's
position and strength. Without intending a real attack, you demonstrate,
feign a forward movement, push on in one place or another, or threaten
to turn his flanks; so obliging him to move his men here and there,
expose his strength and the limits of the position, and, perhaps, the
whereabouts and number of his guns, if they should be tempted to open
fire at our scouts. This is the theory of the thing. In practice it
doesn't quite work, owing to the utter ignorance of the Boers of all
military tactics. On all occasions when we have carried out these
manoeuvres, notably round the Magersfontein hills before the battle,
they have not only failed to make the proper responses to our moves, but
have neglected to take notice of them in any way whatever. Not a gun
speaks, not a man is to be seen. We demonstrate before empty hills.
Creepily, you may conjecture the fierce eyes along the rock edge, but
nothing shows. In vain we circle about the plain, advance, retire,
curtsey, and set to him; our enemy, like the tortoise, "will not join
the dance." Nothing is more discouraging. It is like playing to an empty
house. However, as young B---- said to me, we did our part anyway, and
if they are so ignorant as not to know the counter-moves, well, they
must take the consequences. Manoeuvres of this kind, I must tell you,
are a high test of military skill, and are often not fully intelligible
to the lay mind. As an instance of this, I heard a man of ours, a shrewd
fellow but no soldier, say, in his coarse Colonial way, as we were
riding home, that he "was glad we had finished making a b----y
exhibition of ourselves." It is to be hoped that after a little we shall
get to appreciate these manoeuvres better. Just at first there is a
slight suggestion of Gilbert and Sullivan about them.