It was still dark on the morning of that 20th day of September, 1854.
The whole army of the allies lay stretched on the damp ground. Three
hours after midnight the cry was heard, "Stand to your arms." We rose
to our feet, every two comrades wringing their wet blankets, and placing
them on their knapsacks. We then fell in, and waited till daylight,
when we were ordered to pile arms and fall out, but not to go more than
a hundred yards from our regiments, as we might be required at a
moment's notice to march to the front.
The sun rose brightly, without a cloud in the sky, and at seven o'clock
the whole army advanced. The Turks were on the right, next the sea,
then the French, next the British second division, followed by the
third, and on their left the light division, followed by the first and
fourth. On the left of all marched the cavalry. The artillery of each
division was on its left. Baggage and ammunition trains kept close
behind. The whole country was open, with rise beyond rise, till at
length, after marching for two hours, we reached a rise, when we saw
before us what was ere long to be the scene of a bloody battle. The
ground sloped gently down to the river Alma, which ran directly in front
of us, its banks covered with villages and orchards and gardens. It was
fordable in most places. On the other side a range of hills, three and
four hundred feet high, rose suddenly up from it; on our right, too
steep to be climbed; but in front of where we of the light division
stood, showing more gradual slopes. On these slopes, earthworks had
been thrown up by the Russians. On the top of all, the ground was
level; and it was here and on the slopes that the Russians were posted
between us and Sebastopol. We had to storm those heights, and to drive
the enemy off the level ground on their top, in the face of the heavy
artillery and the dense masses of infantry with which they were lined,
not forgetting the strong reserve in the rear. We could see the French
on the right beginning the action, climbing up the heights, and firing
as they advanced; then a strong force of Russians, who were nearly taken
by surprise, moved to meet them. With Rifles and skirmishers in front,
fighting with the Russian riflemen, the second division of the British
then advanced in line. Up the hill they went, right at the enemy. The
firing became general along the whole line. A village burst into flames
below us. We, with other Highland regiments and the Guards, were formed
in line,--a band, I may say, able to meet any enemy in the world in a
hand-to-hand fight or charge of bayonets; but the enemy's round-shot and
bullets came rattling among us, and picked off many a stout fellow. We
were therefore ordered to lie down to avoid the shot, our men grumbling
not a little, and asking why we were not led at once against the enemy.
We soon saw the reason why. Many young soldiers who had before talked
of fighting as good fun, now changed their note, and found what terrible
bloody work it is.
At last came the welcome order to advance. To show how cool some men
are, even at that moment one of my comrades composed some verses, which
he repeated to those near him. We sprang to our feet; down the steep we
dashed, through orchards of apples and grapes and other fruit. Several
of our fellows, stopping to pick the fruit to quench their thirst, were
shot dead. We passed quickly across the Alma, which in some places we
found so shallow that many of us scarcely wetted our feet. Once more we
were ordered to take shelter behind a long stone wall. Then came the
welcome order, "Up, Guards and Highlanders, and at them."
Up the hill we went, halting but for a moment, to allow the somewhat
broken regiments which had hitherto been engaged, to pass between our
ranks, and then right at the enemy we dashed, firing as we advanced, and
prepared to charge, if he would have stood for us. As we reached the
summit, a grand sight met our eyes,--the whole army of Russians spread
out on the plain before us; but as we got nearer, we saw their backs
instead of their faces; for they had already had a sufficient taste of
our quality, and were in full retreat. Now and then they turned and
fired, and my right and left-hand men were both killed in that manner.
I had marked the Russian who had killed the last; and, dropping on my
knee at the moment the bugle sounded cease firing, I took a steady aim,
and stopped him from boasting that he had killed an Englishman.
We were much disappointed at not being allowed to follow the enemy.
Still it was a glorious moment when we found that we had won a great
victory, as we cheered and cheered again, and comrades grasped each
other's hands, and congratulated ourselves on what we had done. To show
what strict discipline is kept up in the army, at this moment I found
myself placed under arrest for having fired after the order to cease
firing had sounded. On the circumstance being reported to the
commanding officer, he directed that I should be brought before him.
"Why did you fire?" he asked. I told him.
"Then I only wish that every man in the army possessed the same spirit,"
he answered. "Let him be released. And now let me tell you that I
shall have the satisfaction of reporting your cool courage and
steadiness before the enemy to the proper authorities."
My comrades cheered lustily when they heard this decision.
The army remained on the heights we had won till nearly dark, when the
regiments were ordered to the positions allotted to them for the night.
After we had formed our bivouac, I was much pleased at being sent for by
the officers, and complimented by them on the way I had behaved during
the day. At last we were ordered to remain quiet, and fresh ammunition
was served out to us. We then lay down to rest, but all ready for a
surprise; and rest we did on the bare ground, for we were well weary
after our day's toil. The Russians, however, had had enough fighting
for the present, and let us alone.
A little before daylight on the 21st, we fell in, and remained under
arms for some time. On its being ascertained that the Russians had
retreated to a distance, we were ordered to clean and examine our
rifles, and then to pile them. Rations were then served out to us, and
we ate them with no small appetite, while waiting for orders. Sir Colin
Campbell, soon after this, rode into our midst, and called his brigade
of Highlanders to attention. His speech was short, but to the point.
He congratulated us all on the success which had been gained the day
before, and complimented all--officers and men--on the cool courage they
had exhibited under trying circumstances. He reminded us that the
fighting was not over, though we had gained a victory; but he was
persuaded that we should continue to perform our duty as true soldiers
to our queen and country.
"To-day and to-morrow the army must remain on the ground to remove the
wounded and to bury the dead," he added. "I regret to say that the dead
are very numerous, especially among the Guards and Welsh Fusiliers. The
wounded must at once be carried down to the shore; and remember, my
lads, that a wounded Russian is no longer an enemy, but a
fellow-sufferer with our own comrades, and must be treated as such."
We listened with attention to our brave general's address. A kinder
officer or a better soldier never lived.
Pick-axes and shovels were at once served out to some of us, while
others were provided with stretchers to carry the wounded down to the
beach, I belonged to the party who had to perform the saddest duty a
soldier has to go through after a battle, that of burying the dead.
Talk of glory, talk of the fun of fighting,--just let a man spend two
days on a hard-fought field, as we had to do, and it will be enough to
take out of him all love of fighting for fighting's sake. It was an
awful sight, to see the number of fine fellows who lay stretched on the
ground, never more to move. I had no idea that so many of our own
British had been killed. The most dreadful to look at were those who
had been struck by round-shot, some with their bodies almost torn to
pieces. One moment they had been full of life, rushing on to the fight;
the next there they lay, heaps of clay, their spirits far, far-off. I
could not help asking myself how it was that I was not in the place of
one of them. While some of the parties dug large holes in the ground,
others collected the dead, and threw them in--it was no time for
ceremony--thirty or forty in one hole; some fine young fellows, others
dark- or grey-bearded men, their last fight over.
"Ah," I thought, and I dare say others thought too, "if those who set
men to fight--the emperors and kings and governments--could but see this
sad sight, may be they would stop to think, and try and make up their
quarrels some other way."
Hundreds and hundreds we buried during those two days, our comrades by
themselves, the Russians in pits by themselves. We could tell how the
fight had gone by the way in which the bodies lay. In one place the
Russians had made a stand, and were piled up in heaps as the British
again and again charged them. In other parts the round-shot had torn
through whole ranks of men, cutting them down like corn before the
reaper's sickle.
I afterwards marked the spot where the Highlanders had poured in their
fire on the enemy, and made those who escaped our bullets turn and fly.
It was my first battle-field; it was the first and last of many poor
fellows. And I say again, it is a fearful thing to see God's image
defaced as I there saw it in a thousand terrible ways.