This was a foolhardy action, involving a needless loss of life, but, done as it was in the heat of battle, it showed the fearlessness of the British troops, and no doubt had its effect upon the miscreants in the city. Further attacks were made on the 18th and 23rd, but both were firmly met, and considerable chastisement meted out to the bold rebels. Although Sir Henry Barnard was in supreme charge, the active command rested with General Reed, whose health now broke down, necessitating his retiral to the hills. The operations before Delhi were now entrusted to, and ably conducted by, Brigadier Wilson of the Bengal Artillery, a zealous and active officer. On the last day of July the enemy made another attempt to break our lines, and appeared in force at the Cashmere and Ajmere gates. One column got a couple of guns into position, and played on the Mosque and our central battery, while the other endeavoured to get to the rear of the camp, but being unable to cross the canal they returned to the city. It was evidently a well-planned attack, for the guns on the walls gave them a lot of assistance through a constant fire on our position, which was rather out of range. All through the night the rebels kept up an incessant fire upon our outposts, while their bugles were heard continually sounding the advance, yet no advance came. Frantically the leaders rushed about, shouting “Chulo chai! chulo!” (“Come on, brother! come on!”) but no one seemed willing to answer the call. The incessant boom of the guns continued until the 2nd August, but not much damage was done to our earthworks and batteries. The rebels seemed to be rendered desperate, as it was thought that they believed that the British could close upon them at any time and kill them. They drank chang (a native intoxicant), which made them frantic, and they rushed up to our breastworks, only to be shot down in scores. On the 2nd August they lost over 200 killed and 400 wounded, while 9 men on our side were killed and 36 wounded. An officer graphically describes the British camp during this anxious time in the following manner:-- “What a sight our camp would be, even to those who visited Sebastopol! The long lines of tents, the thatched hovels of the native servants, the rows of horses, the parks of artillery, the British soldier in his grey linen coat and trousers, the dark Sikhs with their red and blue turbans, the Afghans with the same, their wild air and coloured saddlecloths, and the little Ghoorkas dressed up like demons of ugliness in black worsted Kilmarnock bonnets and woollen coats. The soldiers are loitering through the lines or in the bazaars. Suddenly an alarm is sounded, and everyone rushes to his tent. The infantry soldier seizes his musket and slings on his pouch; the artilleryman gets his guns horsed; the Afghan rides out to explore, and in a few minutes everyone is in his place.”