Perhaps it was as well that those who forced us to waste those precious weeks before the arrival of the Russians were not on the battlefield outside Comorn.
At the Waag, at Acz, and now here, the Muscovites had actually snatched victory from our grasp.
As we plunged together into the conflict the soldiers caught sight of their gallant leader, and for a moment ceased fighting, while they rent the air with shouts of "Görgei! Görgei!"
Had it been possible to save the battle, the presence of this one man would have accomplished the feat; but it was not.
The men died willingly enough, but they could not advance in face of those awful guns.
In vain our artillerymen worked at their batteries like slaves, vainly footmen and cavalry threw themselves against the solid mass; they came back every time baffled, broken, and in sadly-diminished numbers.
Of my personal share in the fight there is little to tell.
Görgei, forgetful of his wound, threw himself into the thick of it, and where he went I followed.
Now we charged at the head of a shattered remnant of a cavalry regiment; again we were in the midst of an infantry square, encouraging the men to stand firm; then we were making a desperate attempt on a battery.
The staff had their fill of fighting for once, but to no avail.