Afghanistan's winters were bitterly cold, yet the harsh chill had not halted the march of war. No one knew whether the British were too incompetent or the Russians too formidable.
In the final month of 1889, the Russian Army seemed to have activated some sort of cheat, capturing Mazar-i-Sharif, Kunduz, and Chaghcharan in succession. One-fifth of Afghanistan's territory changed hands.
Even the Wakhan Corridor and Herat, where the British Army had concentrated heavy forces, were on the verge of collapse and could fall at any moment.
He opened the window, and a freezing wind howled past. Watching the swirling snowflakes, Lieutenant General Patrick shuddered.
This damned weather, more than ten degrees below zero, was utterly unfriendly to the British Army. Britain had never seen cold like this.
Never mind going out to fight—even inside headquarters with its stoves blazing, Lieutenant General Patrick felt the cold wind pierce to the bone.
Those bureaucrats back home had misjudged the situation. The winter cotton uniforms they had prepared were designed according to domestic temperatures and were completely useless here.
Fortunately, the bureaucrats in the logistics department had carried forward their fine tradition and prepared cotton uniforms according to the original troop numbers.
The soldiers who had been killed or gone missing naturally no longer needed them, while officers and men sent out on missions could put on two layers of cotton clothing.
Even so, since winter began, the British Army's non-combat casualties had risen sharply. In some areas, non-combat losses even exceeded the casualties suffered fighting the Russian Army.
The setbacks at the front were less because the Russian Army was too strong than because Afghanistan's winter wore people down too cruelly.
For Indian soldiers who had lived in tropical regions, especially, Afghanistan's winter was simply hell on earth.
Hands, feet, ears, faces...