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[Page 40]

(17)
in our wake as we march on.
Again we are passing a tent camp of camps tents. But there is a profound stillness of sleep here. The white tents loom like little pyramids dimly seen.
Now we pass a watering point where a few stray horses are gathered together discussing the stupidity of man. We can just see their bulky forms and hear their occasional clomp.
The march seems ceaseless. There is a constant tread tread tread tread of feet with now and then a fault in time and a shuffling change of step.
The troops discuss the prospect of a halt with many curses

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