I chose a spot close by for his grave, which was dug with the help of some gunners, and then Bunny and I, aided by two or three brother officers, laid our friend in it just as he was, in his blue frock-coat and long boots, his eyeglass in his eye, as he always carried it.

The only thing I took away was his sword, which I eventually made over to his family.
It was a sad little ceremony.

Overhanging the grave was a young tree, upon which I cut the initials 'A.O.M.'-- not very deep, for there was little time: they were quite distinct, however, and remained so long enough for the grave to be traced by Mayne's friends, who erected the stone now to be seen.
The whole of that day (the 15th) was spent in preparing for the advance.

The Dilkusha was turned into a general depot, where the sick and wounded were placed, also the Ordnance park and stores of every description.

A rough defence was thrown up round the building, and a garrison was left to protect it, consisting of five Field guns, half the 9th Lancers, the Military Train, a squadron of Punjab Cavalry, and the 8th Foot, the whole under the command of Little, the Brigadier of Cavalry.
In the afternoon Sir Colin made a feint to the left of our position for the purpose of diverting the attention of the enemy from the real line of advance.