At half-past six the following morning, the 27th of July 1880, Burrow’s brigade struck camp. Jack watched as the usual organised confusion prevailed, the NCOs giving harassed orders, the recruits stumbling in the half-dark as they forgot items of kit, and the camels wandering in the wrong direction. A single camel could carry a day’s supply for 160 sepoys, but even a brigade column also needed fodder and ammunition, water and tents, so there were hundreds of baggage animals. Eventually, after sergeants had roared themselves hoarse, all 2,600 fighting men were on the march, with the trail of camp followers wandering behind, all under the unforgiving sky of Helmand Province, Afghanistan.
“Well, Windrush.” St John lit his first cheroot of the day, “here we go.”
“Here we go, sir,” Jack agree
