The rains descended, the floods came and the storms beat upon our tents, and the tents which were old and thin allowed a fine sprinkling of moisture to fall upon our faces.

The green sward was soon trampled into deep and clinging mud.

There was nothing for the men to do.

Ammunition was short, there was little rifle practice.

The weather was so bad that a route march meant a lot of wet soldiers with nowhere to dry their clothes upon their return.