The enemy were coming on, the guns were in imminent danger, and the
moment had come for the action of the cavalry. The gallant Cleland gave
the word to his lancers and led them straight for the centre of the
Afghan line, the troop of Bengal Lancers following in support. Gough,
away on the Afghan left, saw his chief charging and he eagerly
'conformed,' crushing in on the enemy's flank at the head of his troop.
'Self-sacrifice' the Germans hold the duty of cavalry; and there have
been few forlorner hopes than the errand on which on this ill-starred day
our 200 troopers rode into the heart of 10,000 Afghans flushed with
unwonted good fortune. Through the dust-cloud of the charge were visible
the flashes of the Afghan volleys and the sheen of the British lance
heads as they came down to the 'engage.' There was a short interval of
suspense, the stour and bicker of the _melee_ faintly heard, but
invisible behind the bank of smoke and dust. Then from out the cloud of
battle riderless horses came galloping back, followed by broken groups of
troopers. Gallantly led home, the charge had failed--what other result
could have been expected? Its career had been blocked by sheer weight of
opposing numbers. Sixteen troopers had been killed, seven were wounded,
two officers had been slain in the hand-to-hand strife. Cleland came out
with a sword cut and a bullet wound.
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