“Let the soldiers go forth and smite the Feringhees without fear”
“The astrologers had calculated it, the holy Brahmins had read it; the spirits of the conjurors and the dice of the soothsayers all told the same tale. It was written that assuredly on this day the reign of the white people would be over…”
With this powerful assurance in their minds, the mutineers opened a brisk cannonade from the walls, and their whole force marched out, occupying not just Sabzi Mandi but the suburb of Kissenganj with the idea of laying waste not just to the Ridge but the batteries.
Without delay, the British sent forward their infantry while a small body of cavalry and artillery was sent to the rear to cover the entrance of Major Olpherts’ long-awaited reinforcements. He was in pursuit of the mutinous Jalandhar Brigade, who had but recently reached Delhi. Olpherts’ march had been uneventful and his force substantial, consisting of four guns of the 1st European troop, 1st Brigade of the Horse Artillery, part of a native troop commanded by Captain Renny, a company of the 75th Foot, some men of the 2nd Fusiliers, the 4th Sikh Infantry, and a wing of the 2nd Punjab Cavalry. It numbered, in all, no more than 850 men.
While Olpherts made his entrance to the Ridge, the infantry was engaged in a severe fight in the Sabzi Mandi. The sepoys held the houses and the serais, and from the roofs poured unrelenting fire on the British. Clearing the roads was only one job – the other was forcing the houses. As soon as the infantry turned from the road, it was immediately filled again by sepoys. The battle inched its way towards the Ridge, and the shouts of the men and the “words of command could be heard by the artillery at the foot of the mound, waiting to cover the infantry should they be driven in; sometimes it seemed as if our troops were driving far before them.” Brigadier Showers had been given command of the force. Still, instead of leaving the actual running of the battle to his discretion, he was hindered relentlessly, with Barnard and some officers watching the progress of the fight from the Mound Piquet, Barnard stating he could tell the course of the battle from the smoke. His officers complained that the “order of retreat would come when they had driven the enemy back and the order to advance when they had the worst of it.” Somehow, the small force managed to drive the mutineers back to the walls of Delhi and by nightfall, Sabzi Mandi was in British hands. The losses were telling on the force. One officer, Lieutenant Jackson of the Fusiliers and 38 men were killed. Colonel Welshman, 1st Fusiliers, was dangerously wounded, 2 other officers were severely wounded, with 118 men in all wounded.
Hodson’s network of spies, who worked tirelessly bringing in intelligence from the city, while at the same time sowing disinformation in it, reported with some satisfaction that the battle had left the mutineers dispirited. Their prophets had deceived them, and the great victory in the 100 years after Plassey was not to be had on this day and indeed on none other. The British, for their part, were surprised they had won the day. It should have been easy for such a superior force to hold and strengthen Sabzi Mandi and Kissenganj and then shelled the Ridge into oblivion. Yet it did not happen – the mutineers once again turned and fled back to the walls of the city, leaving the British room to place a piquet in the Sabzi Mandi, which they defended from some strong houses and across the road from Hindu Rao’s House, take over a temple the men nicknamed Sammy House. Both positions were quickly fortified, and a breastwork was built that ran along the Ridge to the main batteries, making it impossible for the enemy to advance again along the road leading to the rear of the camp without being exposed to deadly fire from the British guns.
As for Olpherts, his reinforcements did nothing to raise the camp’s spirits. It was expected by this time, Barnard would be sitting comfortably in the city itself, not fighting for his very existence on an outcrop of rocks with hardly enough men to ward off imminent destruction. Shortly after his arrival, a man less prone to grumbling arrived with the next reinforcements to take the position of Adjutant-General, one Brigadier Chamberlain. “Everything will be right when Chamberlain comes! and all took courage when they saw his stern, pale face.”
Known as a cavalry officer of some daring with a reputation that preceded him, he had gained much well-deserved praise for his handling of the Punjab Moveable Column in the first desperate weeks of the mutiny. He was indefatigably ambitious, and as promotion in the service was too slow for his liking, he found the shorter route of risking life and “playing ten to one with death” was a certain way, provided he survived to secure the position he wanted. He was a man of the same breed as Nicholson and Hodson – courage personified but without the experience in leading armies. This gave rise to a singular conundrum with generals split into two camps – daring guerrilla leaders who stopped at nothing to get the job done but with little regard for the blood they spilt or “worn out old men who had gained their rank by living long, unnerved by age and the exhausting climate of India, perfectly incapable of doing the rough work required of them, but with rank and influence sufficient to obstruct those who were able to do it.” At Delhi, there were too few of the former and too many of the latter. With the advent of Neville Chamberlain on the Ridge, it was hoped the tide would finally turn.

Following the desperate battle for the Sabzi Mandi, the attacks on the Ridge, though no less fierce, lessened in frequency. However, the death toll for the British in these skirmishes was by no means lessened, and men continued to be lost in “useless affairs.” Officers refused to remain behind the breastworks and continued to sally out to meet the enemy on their ground, and the cost was starting to tell. On the 27th of June, another attack was made on the Metcalfe and Sabzi Mandi piquets and could only be repulsed with substantial losses, with 62 wounded.
The 28th was somewhat more promising. A day after the monsoon rains began in earnest, Her Majesty’s 8th Regiment of Foot, numbering 400 men, arrived in Delhi, “about the strength to which almost every regiment in camp was reduced.” Major Olphert’s guns, Captain Renny and some foot artillery from Lahore made their appearance, bringing with them a newly raised body of Sikh artillery, comprising of old gunners who had won their scars in the far-off battles of Ferozeshur and Chillianwallah. Shortly after, with the arrival of Her Majesty’s 61st Regiment, the 1st Punjab Infantry, and a squadron of the 5th Punjab Cavalry, the force on the Ridge swelled to 6600 men.
On the 30th, yet another pitched battle took place, costing the lives of Lieutenant Yorke of the 4th Sikhs and dangerously wounding Lieutenant Blair of the 2nd Fusiliers. The cry to finally attack the city continued to grow, but General Barnard looked out on the scene and decided to wait for more reinforcements was probably the wisest course of action. By now, the red walls of the city were teeming with mutineers while the British were barely holding their own. July was now but days away, and changes were starting to happen on the Ridge – the first tumultuous month was over, but the siege was only just beginning.

Valour was certainly not lacking on the Ridge had, and the six men who were awarded the coveted VC for June were undoubtedly one above the rest.
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