But it is of Mullane and Collis that I propose to speak here, and of how they won their V.C.’s. After the fortune of the battle was decided and the stricken British brigade commenced its retreat to Candahar the Royal Horse Artillery made many gallant attempts to beat off the pursuing Afghans. Indeed, but for the masterly way in which they worked their guns, the losses on our side must have been considerably greater than they were.
Sergeant Mullane stood by his gun on one of these occasions, and after a round or two had been fired helped to limber up smartly to follow the force. As the gun moved on a driver was seen to fall. The Afghans were tearing after the fugitives at full speed, and the wounded man lay directly in their path.
Only a daring man would have ventured to turn and face that fierce oncoming crowd; but “Paddy” Mullane was that man. Racing back to where the driver lay, he lifted him up in his arms and, being a big strong fellow, quickly carried him out of the enemy’s reach. It was a narrow squeak, however; as he turned with his burden to make for his comrades, the nearest Afghans were within a few yards of him, and one or two wild shots whizzed by his ears.
The next day, while the retreat continued, Mullane performed another gallant action, which was duly noted on his Cross. Most of the troops, and particularly the wounded, suffered terribly from thirst in the glare of the sun, and it was impossible to obtain drink from the hostile villages they passed through.
At last Sergeant Mullane could stand the cries of distress no longer. “I’m off to get some water,” he announced briefly to his comrades, when they neared another village. And, doubling to the nearest houses, he managed to procure a good supply, with which he ran hastily back, while the infuriated villagers peppered him hotly. Fortunately for him their marksmanship was none too good, and not a shot struck him, though several went so close as to make him realise the risk he had run.
Of how Gunner Collis bore himself in that retreat from Maiwand we have been told in his own words, and I cannot do better than follow the account he gives. He was limber gunner, he says, in his battery, and when an Afghan shell killed four of the gunners and Sergeant Wood, only three were left to work the piece. Taking the sergeant’s place, he went on firing, but was soon almost borne down by panic-stricken fugitives, who threw themselves both under and on the gun.
On the native infantry and cavalry breaking up in confusion the guns limbered up and fell back at a gallop for some two thousand yards. Here another two rounds were fired, but again the order came to retire, for the enemy were advancing rapidly. A mounted Afghan even caught up with the gun on which Collis sat and slashed at him fiercely as he passed. The sword cut the gunner over the left eyebrow. As the Afghan wheeled and rode at him again Collis raised his carbine, and at about five yards’ range let drive. The shot struck the sowar on the chest, causing him to fall from his horse. In doing so some money rattled out of his turban, and Collis relates that Trumpeter Jones, R.H.A., jumped off his horse and picked it up.
Dusk now came fast upon the fugitives, and having stepped aside at a village to try and secure some water, Collis lost his gun. He accordingly attached himself to No. 2, sticking to it all the way to Candahar.
By the wayside, as they went along, lay many wounded. As many of these as he could the gallant gunner picked up and placed on his gun. He collected ten altogether, every one a 66th man, except a colonel whom he did not know. Presently the wounded began to beg for water, and like Mullane, Collis could not bear to hear their cries without making an effort to satisfy them.