They expressed surprise at my having climbed
up there at that early hour, but were quite satisfied when I explained
that I came from Wales, and at once jumped to the conclusion that I
was a Highlander, and asked whether I wore a kilt when I was at home.
In the middle of our exchange of civilities the alarm was given that
the enemy was in sight, and presently we saw through our glasses long
strings of men coming from all directions towards us over the snows.
Between us and the enemy lay a vast and deep ravine with almost
perpendicular sides, traversed here and there by zig-zagging goat
tracks.
Officers were called together, the tactics of the fight were described
to them, and in a few minutes the battalion and company commanders
were scattered about studying with their glasses the opposite
mountain, each, as they explained to me at the time, picking out for
himself and for his men a line for ascending to the attack.
Then the word was given for the advance, and the infantry went off in
long strings of men armed with alpenstocks and ropes. Ropes were used
for lowering each other down bad places, and for stringing the men
together when they got on to the snows to save them from falling
into crevasses, etc. But the exciting point of the day was when the
artillery proceeded to move down into the ravine; the guns were all
carried in sections on the backs of mules, as well as their ammunition
and spare parts.
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