196 
IN MEMORIAM — E. G. KENSIT 
berg and Fish Hoek. Here during one of those cruel dust storms with faces 
cut by the driving sand and eyes blinded Kensit, with a small number of 
men, was told off to put up tents for men who would be arriving that day. 
He writes how the task seemed all but hopeless, but how they were determined 
the tents should be there when the men arrived, and they did it although it 
took them the greater part of the day. Fresh water was very scarce here at 
Matru — well water was usually brackish and used for the animals, whilst the 
troops got about one water-bottle per man per diem. 
Egypt and the Western Front was the land of glamour and romance to 
Kensit, no less than the land of hardship and maddening privations. All day 
there would be the burning sun on the monotonous march and at night heavy 
dews to soak the only blanket each man had ; but monotony of march and the 
blaze of the noonday sun were alike forgotten in the wonderful find of a 
flower, to be pressed and jealously kept and carried until such time as it 
might be sent to the home people. Do you wonder that these flowers are 
held more precious than hard earned gold — the beautiful golden and scarlet 
ranunculi and the purple mallow — carried into the battle and brought back 
again from Death? 
Or the beautiful sunsets would refresh him or some coast view or desert 
scene of palms and camels — “ Oh ! this land is very wonderful ! I would love 
to be with you and tell you all and then come back.” 
The march from Mersa Matru was in a south-westerly direction; at some of 
the stopping stages they had to make dug-outs and sand-bag forts, and he 
proudly tells of two scouting expeditions over some mountains where he 
noticed “a brown orchid growing very plentifully.” 
On the 25th of February the Senussi were reported to be concentrating 
near some well south-east of Barani. The British forces were encamped at Wadi 
Maktel near the beach, the intention being to strike at the enemy about dawn 
next day. But the unexpected happened, the enemy suddenly attacking the 
camp about dusk. 
Next day came the Battle of Agagia. The enemy under Gaafar Pasha had 
their main position on a ridge of sand hills running parallel to the Khedivial 
Road. Our men moved up from the sea coast in a south-westerly direction, 
crossed this road and advanced, line after line as on parade, to the attack 
under an unheeded heavy fire from machine and field guns and rifles. The 
enemy was completely routed, Gaafar and his staff falling into our hands and 
the rest fleeing in scattered parties. 
Kensit tells of a comrade falling by his side and himself pressing on. To 
those who knew him, it is but one more of the illuminating details which 
have placed him upon the shining tablelands. Well one knows that the 
soldier is strictly taught to press forward nor look at the fallen comrade, 
and excitement may rob a man of the consciousness of aught beside the fight, 
