The men charging us were now about two hundred yards away. “Okay,” I said. “Anytime.”
The words barely left my lips when Aida began firing. She was going to be okay.
With our first volley, two men toppled from their horses, then two more, then three. I picked up two of the Mills bombs, pulled the pin on one, and hurled it as far as I could into the middle of the charging horses and men.
The explosion was deafening, followed by the screams of terrified horses as they fell to the ground with their riders. I hated to maim the horses, but the bomb had the desired effect, stopping the charge dead in its tracks. I threw another grenade at the retreating band, and when it exploded it sent horses and men flying in different directions. I observed five injured horses attempting to get to their f
