ELEVEN-Gwalior
‘Well, damn me.’ Captain Forbes McGowan and his double company of the 10th Bombay Native Infantry were calling and pointing up into the branches of the trees. ‘Come to try your hand at a little crow shooting, Morgan?’
It was almost midnight. Morgan had managed to get a couple of hours’ broken sleep up in the g*n position that they had taken before the inevitable had happened. His men and the remainder of the 95th had been left in reserve whilst Smith had swept forward with the other regiments of the brigade to the very foot of Gwalior’s vast outcrop, the cavalry harassing the mutineers whilst the rest of the infantry mopped up those who couldn’t run fast enough. Then, whilst McGucken and the NCOs, dog tired though they were, went through all the checks that battle made nec
