rdons, Colonel Downman, was seen shouting
on his men till a bullet dealt him a mortal wound. Another Scottish
hero, a private, was heard wildly remonstrating as the stretcher-bearers
tried to remove him from the field. His ankle was smashed, but he still
roared that he had been wounded for twelve hours, and had been fighting
all the while, and was still as fit as any man in the army!

He was not alone in his valour, for instances of remarkable gallantry
occurred on every side. Sergeant Gash (Rimington's Horse) singly
assisted a wounded man, sticking to him under a heavy fire till the poor
fellow was placed out of harm's way, and Lieutenant Riley (Yorkshire
Light Infantry) bore on his back a man of the Mounted Infantry while
covered by Sergeant Cassen and Privates Bennett and Mawhood. The reason
why so many officers fell may be attributed to the fact that the Boers
employed sharpshooters who walked coolly about lifting their
field-glasses and picking off such persons as appeared in any way
conspicuous. The prominence of the officers, however, was not due to
peculiarity in their uniforms, they having discarded swords, revolvers,
and belts, and adopted kharki aprons over their kilts. One of the
Seaforth Highlanders wrote pathetically of the awful day's work. He
said:--

"We were in quarter-column of companies in line--that is, we
were offering a front of, say, 50 yards--and immediately
behind, following in double ranks, were company after company
of the Highland Brigade, of, say, 3500 men. Suddenly the whole
hillside was one mass of flame, and the Seaforths, leading,
received a discharge of rifle-fire from over 16,000 Boers. It
was awful. Talk about 'hell'--the hillside was one continuous
line of fire. We immediately scattered and spread one in lines
right and left.... Monday's work was a huge blunder, and who is
to blame I do not know; but there is no doubt the Highland
Brigade were led like lambs to the slaughter. We were led more
as if we were on a Volunteer review at Hyde Park. We had a
sorrowful job on Tuesday night. We had fifty-three dead brought
in and buried. You could hear nothing but the wailing of the
pibrochs as the Highlanders were buried."

A colour-sergeant of the 2nd Black Watch writing from hospital thus
described the moments when the unlucky Brigade which had stood
gloriously against the terrific shock first became disorganised