Summary

R. E. Cholmeley John Nicholson, the Lion of the Punjaub

If there was one man whom the Fusiliers would have followed to death, it was Nicholson. At his summons they ran on again, some of them actually reeling from the terrific strain they had undergone. Springing out into the mouth of the lane, Nicholson waved his sword above his head and went forward. The soldiers advanced some paces, wavered, re-formed, and wavered again as the sepoys' guns belched forth flame and death. Then, as they paused hesitating, the fateful moment came. Some yards ahead of the soldiers stood Nicholson, facing his men as he called to them angrily to "come on."
Source: Gutenberg

R. E. Cholmeley John Nicholson, the Lion of the Punjaub

Leaping from his horse, and striding boldly among them, Nicholson ordered the Sikh soldiers to arrest their leaders. For a moment they wavered, and the young officer's life hung in the balance. But no one dared fire the shot which would have turned the scale for mutiny.
"Seize those men!" commanded Nicholson fiercely, as he pointed out the ringleaders. And, impressed by his resolute bearing, as he towered above them with grim determination written on his face, the soldiers did as he ordered, whereupon he placed the prisoners in fetters and made arrangements for the security of the fort.
Source: Gutenberg

R. E. Cholmeley John Nicholson, the Lion of the Punjaub

He himself had lost a devoted friend who could never be replaced. In the camp the news that Nicholson was gone was received with universal sorrow. It was felt that by his death the army on the Ridge had been suddenly deprived of the one strong man to whom everybody had instinctively turned for advice and encouragement, and who could least be spared. There was a sense of injustice, too. Delhi had fallen, but—John Nicholson, struck down in the hour of victory, was not there to share in the triumph.
Source: Gutenberg

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