Irons, taking advantage of a bend in the path, dismounted his men, who, having drawn up their cycles under cover, were formed up each side of the road to support the gun. About thirty Russian dragoons, with their infantry, who were working through the wood, were soon upon them, and, seeing such a small force barring the way, the cavalry charged.
They, however, met with such a terribly hot reception that only two reached the guns, and these were immediately shot. The stand made by these seven men was a most noteworthy instance of the indomitable courage of the defenders. In those critical moments they remained calm and collected, obeying the orders of their sergeant as coolly as if they had been drilling in the barrack square. But their position was one of momentarily increasing peril, for bullets whistled about them, and the force against them was an overwhelming one. The Russian horses and men who had fallen blocked the road, and Irons therefore gave the order to fall in, as the sound of firing had now drawn many of the enemy's skirmishers towards the spot.
Irons then re-formed his squad, one of whom had been shot and another wounded, and, taking the wounded man with them, retired. Just as they were moving off the corporal was wounded in the shoulder, and Irons himself received a bullet in the left arm. About two hundred yards nearer Didsbury there was a clearing, with farm buildings on both sides of the road, and these had been loopholed and occupied by a small force of Volunteers. Irons, sending the wounded man on to Didsbury, remained here with his gun, and a few minutes later the position was vigorously attacked.
The conflict which ensued was of the fiercest description. The mere handful of defenders fought with such desperate courage that the great body of Russians which surrounded them were from the first moment gradually swept away by the steady and precise fire from the farm. Around the buildings the enemy swarmed in overwhelming numbers, but every man who showed himself was promptly picked off by Britons shooting almost as coolly as if they were competing for prizes at Bisley.
Sergeant Irons' small machine gun, with its single barrel, rattled out continuously, shedding its rain of lead in all directions, while from muzzles of Martini rifles peeping over walls and from windows there came a continuous stream of bullets, which played frightful havoc with the foe. Within the first ten minutes two men of the defending force had been shot dead and one wounded; still, their comrades never lost heart, for they were determined that their position should never fall into the enemy's hands. The Russian officer who was directing the operations of the attacking party rose and shouted in Russian to encourage his men, but in a moment an English bullet struck him, and, with a loud cry, he fell forward over the body of a dragoon, shot through the heart.