I knew there could be no organized resistance, and that if I was cautious I could come to no harm, but, all the same, I am free to confess that I could not avoid feeling anxious about my guns, as the loss of 2 more would have been simply ruin to us. I must here describe the route I had to follow, as its peculiarities added much to the difficulties and dangers of the enterprise. Immediately after leaving the Barracks the road passes for about ½ a mile through walled gardens, each garden forming a little fortification of itself, and giving cover for any number of armed men. These passed through, the Village of Abasabad is reached through the main street of which the road goes. This street is so narrow that in places it was a close shave to get the R.A. carriages through, and it twists and winds about most unpleasantly. Beyond the village is another quarter of a mile of walled gardens, and then an open plain is come to with, however, commanding hills all along the road to the right (about 300 yards off), and on the left a string of strongly placed villages about the same distance from the road. It is evident, therefore, that every inch of road offered extraordinary facilities for the enemy to resist our [Sidenote: Terrible accounts of the retreat.] advance. As we left the camp we began to meet the first of the long string of fugitives, who continued afterwards to pass us till we reached Kokeran, a more terrible sight I never witnessed; all appearance of organization or discipline gone; each man, whether European or native, was fighting, as it were, for his own life, careful of nothing but getting into safety. All were wearied and harrassed, and many unable hardly to move one foot before the other, as indeed was not wonderful, considering that since 4 p.m. the previous day they had been marching, with a cruel enemy on all sides of them, shooting and stabbing every man who, too wearied to drag on, sat down for a moment's rest. To add to the horrors of the march they had, in the whole distance of over 50 miles, found water only twice, and what this means no one who has not lived and worked in this climate can tell. From all I can hear there were some marvellous instances of self-denial in this matter: men giving up their last drop of water, which was more than their lives to them, to men more feeble than themselves, and, apparently, none equalled or exceeded in this respect Captain Slade, of the Horse Artillery, as noble a soldier as ever lived. Officers and men have since told me of his heroic efforts to save his guns, to give assistance and to sacrifice his life, or deny himself to save or help anyone; all also join in saying General Burrows' conduct was splendid, and that he had fairly won the Victoria Cross 3 or 4 times. Once when all hope seemed lost, for dismounted men he got off his horse, put two wounded officers on it, and led it himself for 3 miles, with a howling crowd of savages following him, anxious for his life. I had never seen