The troops crossed the canal by a ford, and formed up in line of battle on the opposite side, facing the town of Najafgarh, and about 900 yards from the serai, the infantry in two lines, ourselves and the 1st Bengal Fusiliers in front, with artillery and cavalry on each flank.
When we were halted, Nicholson came to the front and, addressing the regiments of European infantry, spoke a few soul-stirring words, calling on us to reserve our fire till close to the enemy's batteries, and then to charge with fixed bayonets. He was answered with a cheer, and the lines advanced across the plain steady and unbroken, as though on parade.
The enemy had opened fire, and were answered by our guns, the infantry marching with sloped arms at the quick step till within 100 yards, when we delivered a volley. Then the war-cry of the British soldiers was heard, and the two regiments came to the charge, and ran at the double towards the serai.
Lieutenant Gabbett of my regiment was the first man to reach the entrenchment, and, passing through an embrasure, received a bayonet thrust in the left breast, which stretched him on the ground. The men followed, clearing everything before them, capturing the four guns in the serai, bayoneting the rebels and firing at those who had taken to flight at our approach. Then, changing front, the whole force swept along the entrenchment to the bridge, making a clean sweep of the enemy, who turned and fled, leaving the remaining nine guns in our hands.
Our Horse Artillery, under Major Tombs—never better served than in this action—mowed down the fugitives in hundreds, and continued following and firing on them till darkness set in. The cavalry also—a squadron of the gallant 9th Lancers, with the Guides and Punjabees—did their share of work, while the European infantry were nobly supported by the corps of Punjab Rifles, who cleared the town of the sepoys.
The battle had lasted a very short time, and after dark we bivouacked on the wet ground in the pouring rain, completely exhausted from our long march and subsequent fighting, and faint from want of food, none of which passed our lips for more than sixteen hours.
[Illustration: NOTE.—MAJOR RAINBY COMMANDED THE 61ST REGIMENT IN THIS
ENGAGEMENT.]
[From Lord Roberts' "Forty-one Years in India." By kind permission.]
Still, the day's work was not over. A village to the rear was found to be occupied by the enemy, and the Punjab Rifles were ordered to take it. They met with a most obstinate resistance, their young commander, Lumsden, being killed. The General then sent part of my regiment to dislodge the rebels, but we met with only partial success, and had one officer, named Elkington, mortally wounded, the enemy evacuating the place during the night.
We passed the night of the 25th in the greatest discomfort. Hungry and wet through, we lay on the ground, snatching sleep at intervals. Poor Gabbett died of internal haemorrhage soon after he received his wound, and his death deprived the regiment of one of its best and bravest officers, and me of a true friend. He had shared my tent on the march down and during the whole campaign, a cheery, good-hearted fellow, and one who had earned the respect of officers and the love of his men. The General was particularly struck with his bravery, and with feeling heart wrote a letter to Gabbett's mother, saying he would have recommended her son for the Victoria Cross had he survived the action.