Under the stress of this terrible fire the British infantry held firm, Thorneycroft's volunteers on the left, Blomfield's Lancashire Fusiliers on the right. If a man showed his head or lifted his arm he was as good as out of the battle; so deadly, so overwhelming was the Boer fire, that he was sure to be hit. From the summit already trickled a steady stream of men towards the rear--towards the point where among the mimosas a hospital had begun its merciful work. With the wounded were a few unwounded--stragglers and skulkers--but not many. The British soldier in these dreadful moments is rarely untrue to the call of duty. He was at a grave disadvantage, for the rifle with which he was armed was awkward to load lying down; the Boer weapon with its clip holding five cartridges could be charged easily in a second or two. It may be that this was a trifle, but none the less the defect made its presence felt. So fierce, so breathless was the battle that no one had time for thought. From general to private on the summit the one concern was to hold the ground, to beat back the enemy, who came on like demons, to fling the dead from the trenches, and to remove the wounded. Here, as in the earlier battles of the war, there were some wonderful escapes. Colonel Thorneycroft, a man of great stature and extraordinary personal courage, was always upright among his men--always a mark for the enemy's bullets, which tore and riddled his clothing, but, strange to say, left him unharmed. General Woodgate had set a splendid example, walking coolly to and fro till, some time before 10 a.m., he was struck in the eye, while watching through his glass the effect of the British fire, and mortally wounded. He was borne off the field murmuring, "Let me alone! Let me alone!" "It was as though hell had been let loose," was the concise description of a wounded officer. From below the sight was dreadful enough. "I saw three shells strike a certain trench within a minute," writes Mr. Atkins; "each struck it full in the face, and the brown dust rose and drifted away with the white smoke. The trench was toothed against the sky like a saw--made, I supposed, of sharp rocks built into a rampart. Another shell struck it, and then--heavens!--the trench rose up and moved forward. The trench was men; the teeth against the sky were men. They ran forward bending their bodies into a curve, as men do when they run under a heavy fire; they looked like a cornfield with a heavy wind sweeping over it from behind.... They flickered up, fleeted rapidly and silently across the sky, and flickered down into the rocks without the appearance of either a substantial beginning or end to the movement." [Illustration: _H. M. Paget._] [_From a sketch made on the spot._ A LONG LADDER OF PAIN. Bringing down wounded men from Spion Kop.] [Sidenote: JAN. 24, 1900.] _Confusion of Commands._] [Sidenote: Thorneycroft put in command.]