Three hundred men, with some of our best officers, fell on that disastrous day. Not a few deeds of heroic daring and calm self-sacrifice light up the dismal records of that crowning failure, and Shelton himself was always in the thickest of the fight. But no amount of personal courage could work a miracle in the absence of a clear directing brain. Even discipline availed little against far superior numbers, skilfully led, and expert in handling weapons much deadlier than our smooth-bore muskets. The unwisdom of our leaders had broken down the spirit of their men, already unnerved by cold, hunger, and the daily duties involved in the mere defence of a weak and wide intrenchment begirt by numerous and watchful foes. To employ such troops in the field again under such leadership became impossible. Had some of the younger officers only dared to take the leadership into their own hands, the honour of our arms and the safety of an imperilled garrison would even then have been assured, while the breach of discipline would have been gladly justified by an admiring nation. But the deed of happy daring was never done at Kábul, though something like it was afterwards achieved at Jalálábád.
Once more the question of a retreat into the Bálá Hissár was mooted, at the instance of the Sháh himself, who had been daily watching through his telescope the movements in the plain below. 'Surely the English are mad!' he had exclaimed on witnessing the capture of the Commissariat Fort. Since then he
