Gil the Gunner: The Youngest Officer in the EastFenn, George Manville
General
Gil the Gunner: The Youngest Officer in the East
Fenn, George Manville
Great Britain. Army -- Colonial forces -- India -- Juvenile fiction; Young men -- Juvenile fiction
There was a few moments' pause while Brace examined the gathering groups
with his glass, and gave us a few final instructions. Then the guns
came into action with a steady, regular fire from right to left, shot
following shot, so that at the second round the effect had been almost
magical. One minute body after body of men were crowding up toward the
road, the next they were scattering and seeking the shelter of the
houses, while our attention was now directed toward the two columns of
cavalry.
Meanwhile the rattle of the musketry came fiercer and louder, telling
that our friends had not been checked, but were steadily advancing
through a terrible fire; but I knew that the heavy boom of our guns must
encourage them, and I looked on with a strange eagerness as my two guns
were sponged and loaded, giving directions to the men for their next
aims.
These were, as I have said, at the white squadron of native cavalry, the
men whom our people had so carefully trained, with the result that their
English officers were slain, and the native officers in command.
I could see for myself that there was very little of the guiding spirit
of our generals at work, each commander of a regiment acting according
to his own ideas, and I was thinking, young soldier as I was, that if I
had had command, I should have sent forward one of the native regiments
in skirmishing order to attack us while the two sowar regiments had been
sent off right and left to try and cut us off, the result being, I
thought, the almost certain routing and capture of our own troops.
But nothing of the kind was done; the officers in command of the cavalry
sat watching the sepoy ranks being ploughed up by our grape and
canister, till they scattered to shelter, and commenced a useless fire
upon us, and then seemed utterly astounded as round shot after round
shot plunged in among their squadrons, making terrible gaps, and
throwing them into utter confusion.
But they closed up again as well as they could, and sat fast in spite of
dozens of the men taking fright and galloping off with riderless horses
over the plain; but half a dozen more shots scattered them again, and
now for the first time the idea seemed to enter the brains of their
leaders that they must act in concert, and after a trooper had dashed
across the road from one side to the other, the new columns advanced,
and we directed our fire right at the thick masses in which they were
formed.
To my mind we had time for one shot, and then I expected the call to
limber up and gallop off, but it did not come; and as we loaded again,
then, with a roar like that of a tempest, the sowars came on till, as we
fired again, we could see their gleaming eyes and the savage rage and
hate in their countenances.
I knew that we should have no time to retreat after those six shots, and
felt that in a few seconds I should be in the midst of a terrible
_melee_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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