The Elephant's Journey by José Saramago

THE COMMANDING OFFICER'S suspicions proved correct, for shortly after ten o'clock, cries of alarm issued from the lookouts on the towers, Enemy in sight, enemy in sight. While it's true that the austrians, at least in their military version, do not enjoy a good reputation among these portuguese soldiers, the lookouts, by bluntly calling them enemies, are taking a step that common sense cannot but reprove most severely, pointing out to the rash fellows the dangers of making hasty judgments and condemning people without proof. There is, however, an explanation. The lookouts were under orders to give the alarm, but no one, not even the usually prudent commanding officer, had thought to tell them what form that alarm should take.

Faced by the dilemma of having to choose between Enemy in sight, which any civilian could understand, and a very unmartial Our visitors are arriving, the uniform they were wearing made the decision for them, and they expressed themselves using the appropriate vocabulary. Even as the last echo of that alert was still ringing in the air, the soldiers had gathered on the battlements to see the enemy, who, at that distance, four or five kilometers away, were nothing but a dark smudge that barely seemed to move and in which, against expectations, one could not even see the glint of their breastplates. A soldier gave an explanation, That's because they've got the sun at their backs, which, we must say, is a much nicer, far more literary way of saying, The light's behind them. The horses, all of them chestnuts or sorrels of varying shades of brown, hence the dark smudge, were advancing at a smart trot.