18, whilst awaiting the first advance into the Namib Desert; then we
were there for a further month, from the 27th of March till the 25th of
April, whilst awaiting the general advance to Windhuk and Karibib.

[Illustration: Awaiting the Advance. The Commander-in-Chief at tea with
the Red Cross Sisters]

[Illustration: Awaiting the Advance. Garrison Sports at Swakopmund.
Start for 100 yards race]

[Illustration: Awaiting the Advance. Garrison Sports. Winner]

It is difficult to write about Swakopmund. As a town it is the most
extraordinary place I have seen. I use the superlative deliberately.
But I do not wish to live there. It is purely artificial, and
artificial to a ghastly degree too. There is not a spot of vegetation.
There is not a genuine tree to be seen. The water has a detestable,
unsatisfying blurred taste, to which the adjective "brackish" is
applied. It is probable that a town occupied by enemy troops does not
look at its best; but the fact that it was under such conditions when I
first knew Swakopmund makes no important difference. The place in its
essentials must always be the same. If ever there was a work of bluff
Swakopmund is that thing. One fancies the German commercial expert, a
Government official, or, maybe, a representative of the ubiquitous
Woermann, Brock & Co., looking along this ferocious and awful coast for
a spot to found a town that should appear on the maps and be esteemed a
seaport. The Swakop River? Very well. Was there water there? But
certainly so; water obviously of the worst quality--yet water. Besides,
were there not always refrigerators and condensing machinery? Upon
which Swakopmund was forced into existence--planked down there bit by