Thirty of the men followed Troop Sergeant Major O’Hara, and fifteen followed Colonel Mayow, chief of Cardigan’s Staff. As I said before the 13th Light Dragoons were so scattered, that a group did not enter the enemy’s lines together. The 11th Hussars was ordered to support us, the 17th Lancers, and we never saw them in the fight. Colonel Douglas, 11th Hussars, Lord George Paget, 4th Light Dragoons, Colonel Shewell, 8th Hussars, all managed to keep groups of their commands together, to enter the line of guns. Lord Paget commanded the 4th Light Dragoons and 8th Hussars, yet he lost the 8th and found the 11th Hussars (our supports). The ride down the valley could not have occupied five minutes. I could have run it on foot in seven minutes, as I was champion runner in those days, but the formation of the brigade with which we started had been destroyed, probably within three minutes. Our arrival at the battery silenced it instantly, and the gunners began to try to move the cannon away. The gospel of Russian fighting was always to save the guns. My first thought after we were through the line was to look for an officer to see what we were to do, I saw Lord Cardigan at first but I had no impulse to join him. I think no British soldier ever had. He lead 670 and none relied on him. I saw troopers riding past him to the right and left. He was about 50 yards beyond the guns on their extreme left. I turned to look for some one of my own regiment and mistook Lieutenant Jarvis, of the 13th Dragoons, for one of my officers, as the uniforms of both regiments being very similar. Lieutenant (now Major) Jarvis is, I believe, still living. He was about 200 yards to my left front, riding to his right towards a cannon that was retreating to the rear. I galloped up to him and informed him that Lord Cardigan was above, pointing my sword to the place, my lance having been shot away at the last volley as we charged the guns. He replied “Never mind, let’s capture that gun!” We raced towards it. He said, “Cut down the gunners!” He shot one of the horse’s in the head bringing it to a sudden stop. The gunners disappeared between the horses and gun-carriage as we slashed at them. We both dismounted and took out the dead horse while more of the Brigade gathered about to assist us. Private John Smith, who died in a London Workhouse about the end of January, 1899, mounted one of the horses attached to the gun, and I believe there is another soldier living who mounted another horse of the gun.