The two sides closed on each other, andTipoo’s men came on with a heedless courage that Arthur could only admire. When they were no more than a hundred yards away Arthur reined Diomed in and shouted an order, straining his voice to be heard above the din of the charging enemy.

‘33rd! Halt! Make ready!’

On they came, now close enough for Arthur to make out individual features in the faces of the men gathering speed as they sprinted to close the distance with the thin line of redcoats.

‘Present!’

The glittering steel of the long barrels and the wicked spikes of the bayonets swept out towards the enemy. The lines were staggered so that the entire regiment would fire its volley as one. Just over sixty yards away the first of Tipoo’s soldiers missed a step as they eyed the wall of foreshortened musket barrels, and flinched before the imminent hail of lead shot.

‘Fire!’

The fizz from the priming pans was swallowed up in a great crash as flame stabbed from every musket in the regiment. Above the smoke, standing in his stirrups, Arthur saw the entire front of the enemy charge collapse as scores of men tumbled to the ground, or reeled back under the impact of the musket balls. So crushing was this first volley that the bodies of the dead and wounded formed a solid obstacle that stopped the charge in its tracks. More men slammed into the backs of those who had been forced to halt and knocked many more to the ground, in piles of tangled, struggling limbs.

‘Face front! . . . Advance!’

Arthur’s regiment marched forward, in step, towards the enemy, still trying to recover from the terrible effects of the volley fired at point-blank range. Now the relentless approach of the redcoats behind their gleaming bayonets proved to be too much for the nerves of the men who just a moment earlier had been charging towards the British line with such reckless exhilaration. Individuals, and then small groups, turned away and began to thrust back through the ranks of their comrades, fleeing up the slope. The sudden collapse in fighting spirit spread through the enemy like a wave and the entire formation broke and ran, many abandoning their weapons, and leaving their wounded comrades to their fate.

Arthur was about to order his men to charge when a pounding of hooves made him look to his right. Charging across the face of the slope was a brigade of cavalry from Harris’s column. Dragoons. Their sabres were out and flashing brilliantly in the sun as they charged home, tearing through Tipoo’s broken infantry and cutting them to pieces as they hacked and slashed at the men streaming up the hill.

‘33rd! Halt!’