Lieutenant Colonel Malaviev emerged from the desert amid anxiety and a stream of curses.
When he felt the soft sand beneath his feet give way to the hard Gobi, he grew even more impatient. He only wanted to seize Kabul as quickly as possible, then be transferred home.
General Bakhov's orders soon arrived, telling him to send out two companies to gather supplies nearby.
Yet when a Cossack Cavalry company returned at dusk, it had brought back less than half a cartload of food—potatoes, barley, Russian olives, and other odds and ends all mixed together.
Malaviev glared fiercely at the company commander. "Damn it, did you go looking for girls in some village?"
The latter hurriedly replied, "Regiment Commander, every village within ten li of here is completely deserted. You can ask Captain Vorobyov."
Just then, another cavalry company returned, with even less to show for its efforts.
Bakhov soon received word that all the nearby Afghan tribes had already relocated, and panic immediately gripped him.
The supplies Michikov had brought earlier had not been much to begin with. At most, they could probably hold out another three or four days.
On one hand, he sent men to Bukhara to press them for supplies. On the other, he ordered the army to quicken its march and seize Herat before they ran out of food.
Well, Prince Salma of Afghanistan had close ties with the United Kingdom. At the British envoy's request, he had long since ordered all the tribes near the border to move east of Herat.
Fortunately, there was still plenty of scrub in Afghanistan's wastelands, allowing the Russian Army's horses to regain some of their strength.
July 30, 1797.
At last, through his Telescope, Bakhov saw the city at the foot of the Paropamisus Mountains.
Bukhara's supplies had