All did not perish on the rugged summit of the Jugdulluk. The barrier was
finally broken through, and a scant remnant of the force wrought out its
escape from the slaughter-pit. Small detachments, harassed by sudden
onslaughts, and delayed by reluctance to desert wounded comrades, were
trudging in the darkness down the long slope to the Soorkhab. The morning
of the 13th dawned near Gundamuk on the straggling group of some twenty
officers and forty-five European soldiers. Its march arrested by sharp
attacks, the little band moved aside to occupy a defensive position on an
adjacent hillock. A local sirdar invited the senior officer to consult
with him as to a pacific arrangement, and while Major Griffiths was
absent on this errand there was a temporary suspension of hostilities.
The Afghans meanwhile swarmed around the detachment with a pretence of
friendship, but presently attempts were made to snatch from the soldiers
their arms. This conduct was sternly resented, and the Afghans were
forced back. They ascended an adjacent elevation and set themselves to
the work of deliberately picking off officer after officer, man after
man. The few rounds remaining in the pouches of the soldiers were soon
exhausted, but the detachment stood fast, and calmly awaited the
inevitable end. Rush after rush was driven back from its steadfast front,
but at last, nearly all being killed or wounded, a final onset of the
enemy, sword in hand, terminated the struggle, and completed the dismal
tragedy.
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