This continuous marching is really hard work. The men at every halt
just drop down in the road and sleep until they are kicked up again
in ten minutes. They do it willingly too. I am commanding officer,
adjutant, officer on duty, and all the rest since we left the main body.
Talk about the Army in Flanders! You should hear this battalion.
I always knew soldiers could swear, but you ought to hear these fellows.
I am told the first contingent has got a name among the regulars.
==


Three weeks later he writes:


==
April 10th, 1900.

We certainly shall have done a good march when we get to the railroad,
478 miles through a country desolate of forage carrying our own transport
and one-half rations of forage, and frequently the men's rations.
For two days running we had nine hours in the saddle without food.
My throat was sore and swollen for a day or two, and I felt
so sorry for myself at times that I laughed to think how I must have looked:
sitting on a stone, drinking a pan of tea without trimmings,
that had got cold, and eating a shapeless lump of brown bread;
my one "hank" drawn around my neck, serving as hank and bandage alternately.
It is miserable to have to climb up on one's horse with a head
like a buzz saw, the sun very hot, and "gargle" in one's water bottle.
It is surprising how I can go without water if I have to on a short stretch,
that is, of ten hours in the sun. It is after nightfall that the thirst