Almost at the same moment the finest soldier in our battery, and the best artilleryman I have ever known, Sergeant-Major Alexander Lamont, had the whole of his stomach carried away by a round shot. He looked up to me for a moment with a piteous expression, but had only strength to utter two words, “Oh! God!” when he sank dead on the road. Just then another round shot took off the leg, high up the thigh, of the next senior sergeant, John Kiernan. He was afterwards carried back to the Alumbagh, but soon died from the shock. Kiernan was an excellent specimen of a Roman Catholic North of Ireland soldier. He was as true as steel. Another tragic sight on that road was the death of a fine young gunner, the only one, I believe, who wore an artillery jacket that day. A round shot took his head clean off, and for about a second the body stood straight up, surmounted by the red collar, and then fell flat on the road. But as fast as the men of the leading gun detachments were swept away by the enemy’s fire I replaced them by volunteers from other guns. Several times I turned to the calm, cool, grim general standing near, and asked him to allow us to advance, as we could not possibly do any good by halting there. He agreed with me, but did not like to take the responsibility of ordering us to go on. At last the order to move on came, and Charbagh bridge was reached. It was defended on the further side by a solid earthen rampart 7ft. high, but with a narrow slit in the middle through which one man at a time could pass. It was armed with six guns, two of them 24-pounders. Tall houses, crowded with musketrymen, covered the bridge with their fire, and solid battalions were drawn up in its rear. Maude was planted with two of his guns in the open, and within short range of the enemy’s battery, and commenced a valiant duel with it. Outram led the 5th Fusileers by a detour for the purpose of smiting the battery at the bridge-head with a flank-fire. Maude’s two guns were fighting six, at a distance of 150 yards, and his gunners fell fast. Again and again he had to call for volunteers to work his guns from the Madras Fusileers lying down under cover near him. The guns were of an ancient pattern, and carried a large leathern pouch full of loose powder for priming uses. “As the lane was very narrow,” says Maude, “the two guns were exceedingly close to one another, and when in their recoil they passed each other, amid a shower of sparks and smoke, they frequently set fire to the loose powder in the priming pouches, and blew the poor gunners up!” Yet Maude’s gallant lads worked their guns unflinchingly.