We worked on, making our zigzag approaches, night after night getting
nearer to the city. Often during the time I used to go and visit poor
Marshall's grave, and I own that I dropped many a tear over it, as I
thought of his worth, and the grief the news of his death would cause to
poor Kathleen's heart. That would not be dried up so soon as my sorrow.
His fate might be mine any day, and I had plenty of things to think
about. The poor girl would mourn alone. One day I was thus standing
near the grave, when I heard a boy's voice say, "Sure that's yourself,
Mr Armstrong."
I looked up, and before me I saw a young drummer-boy, in the uniform of
the 57th regiment.
"Yes, my lad; and who are you?" I asked, not recollecting the features.
"Pat Nolan; sure and it's many a day I've been looking for you,"
answered the lad. "I've come out to see the war, and it's enough I've
seen of it any how."
I was glad to see poor little Pat. The world had gone ill with him and
his family, and an elder brother having enlisted, he also had done so as
a drummer-boy. His brother had been killed, and he was, as it were,
left alone in the world. I promised to befriend him as far as I could,
poor boy. I had no doubt that the men of his regiment would look after
him and treat him kindly.
A few nights after this I was in the trenches, when I saw a shell coming
directly towards our position. I cried out at the very top of my voice,
"Close cover," that the men might get close under the embankment of the
trench. Some followed my advice, but others stood still, when the shell
exploded in the midst of us, wounding twelve of our number, some very
severely, and, in addition, a captain of my regiment. I saw him fall,
and thought that he was killed. I ran to him and found that he
breathed, so I went and brought a stretcher from the end of another
trench, and placed him on it. He begged to be allowed to die in peace,
as he was mortally wounded, but another man and myself undertook to
carry him to the hospital, at the Twenty-one Gun Battery. The shortest
way was across the open space between the trenches. As there were fully
a hundred shells and rockets in the air at once, there was plenty of
light for us to see our way. We agreed to run the risk of being shot,
and to carry him across, as it was important to have him looked to at
once. We reached the battery without being hit, but our poor captain
died within a quarter of an hour of entering the hospital. We
afterwards carried his body to his quarters, where his brother officers,
when they heard of what had happened, soon came to take a last look at
one they all loved so well.
The day was coming on, as we well knew by the advance in our trenches,
when another attack on the fortress was to be made. The Russians had
kept us fully employed, and during July and August several times came
out from behind their lines to attack us, and were as often driven back.
There is one matter I forgot to talk of. All this time it was pleasant
to know that we were thought of by the people at home. Comforts of
every sort were sent out to the soldiers--food, and clothes, and books;
and missionaries and other ministers of religion came out and preached
to those in health, and comforted the sick and dying; but besides this,
hospitals were established in the more healthy parts of the country
belonging to our allies, the Turks, to which our sick and wounded were
sent. What also won the hearts of our wounded men was the gentle care
with which they were tended, not by hired nurses, but by many ladies who
came out from England on purpose to assist them. Those who had been
cured, and came back to the Crimea, told how they had been treated; and
I do not believe that there is a soldier of that army but who blesses
the ladies of England for the sake of those who acted as nurses in the
military hospitals in the East.
On the 5th of September the whole of our batteries again opened on the
town, and went on firing night and day, till, on the 8th at noon, the
French, who were to attack the Malakoff, made the signal to advance.
They rushed on, as they always do, very quickly; and before the
Russians, who were at dinner, had time to defend the place, they were in
it, and their flag was flying on the ramparts. Now came the turn of the
British, who had to attack the Redan. On they went; but the Russians
were ready for them, and they were met by a hot fire of musketry and
artillery. Major Welsford, of the 97th, who led the storming party, was
killed, and Colonel Handcock was mortally wounded. There was not a
hotter fight during the whole war. We had officers and 356
non-commissioned officers and men killed, and not far from 2000 wounded;
and, after all, our men were compelled to retire. It was known that the
Highland brigade, under Sir Colin Campbell were to renew the attack the
next morning. We made up our minds that it would be a day of bloodshed,
but we hoped also of victory, and we were prepared for it.
In the night, however, an officer, with some men, went out to look for a
friend who had fallen in the works of the Redan. Not seeing him, he
went on and found no sign of an enemy. This being told to the engineer
officer conducting the works, he sent a corporal of sappers, who also
found all still within. Sir Colin, on hearing of the matter, called for
ten volunteers from each of the Scotch regiments to learn the truth.
They, advancing at a run, crossed the ditch, and a man of the 93rd was
the first to scale the rampart. The place was deserted. The Russians,
on a bridge of boats and rafts, had crossed over to the other side of
the harbour during the night, having set the town on fire in all parts.
We took possession of a city of blazing houses and exploding mines. It
was some time before we could move about, for fear of being blown up or
crushed by falling houses. The whole city was a ruin, and the Russians
had also sunk or burnt all the ships in the harbour, so that it seemed
that they had left us little worth having.
Then came the sad work of burying those who had fallen in the assault on
the Redan, as also those who had defended it. The Russians were placed
by themselves, at one end of the ditch, and our men at the other, and
then we shovelled the earth from the slope over them both. There they
lie; the rampart of the fortress the one had fought to defend, the other
to gain, their monument. The most terrible sight, however, was in a
building which we did not enter for two days, I think, on account of the
houses burning round it and the mines exploding. It was a hospital; and
in it were two thousand human bodies, and out of the whole scarcely five
hundred were alive. The rest had died. For forty-eight hours no one
had been near them to give them a drop of water, or dress their aching
wounds. I've often thought what those poor fellows must have gone
through. Then we had to carry them out, and bury them. It was
sickening, terrible work. Those at home little know what a soldier has
to go through. It is not all gold and glitter, let me tell them,
marching here and there on a fine day, with the sun shining, and band
playing, and colours flying.
I am not one of those who would tell a young fellow not to go for a
soldier. Very far from that; but I wish to let him know that he will
have a great deal of hard, trying work to go through, and he will have
to face death in all sorts of ways. Still the man who has a fancy for
soldiering, and is steady, is sure to get on, and will find it a good
profession on the whole.
After we entered Sebastopol, the war was over, but it was some time
before peace was proclaimed. We were heartily glad when that time came;
for we were getting very sick of the place where we had lost so many of
our comrades and friends. We sailed back as we had come, in a number of
large transports; and thankful we were to see the shores of Old England
again.
I went out soon afterwards with our regiment to India. That is a large
country, a long way off, on the other side of the world nearly; the
greater part is very hot, and the natives are of a dark-brown colour.
They are mostly heathens, and worship all sorts of ugly idols of wood
and stone, but some are of the same religion as the Turks, and believe
in the false prophet, Mahomet. The East India Company had a large army
of these men, with English officers, but native non-commissioned
officers. These native officers, with some of their chiefs, thought
that they could take the country from the English. They pretended
therefore that the English government were going to make them turn
Christians by force, and persuaded the men to revolt. They kept this
secret, and on a sudden the greater number of the native regiments rose
against their English officers, murdered many of them, as well as many
civilians, with their wives and children, and took possession of several
fortified places. The most important were Delhi and Lucknow. In one
place, Cawnpore, a chief, called Nana Sahib, got General Wheeler and all
the English in the garrison into his power, and murdered nearly the
whole of them, soldiers and civilians, women and children; the bodies of
the latter he threw into a deep well. Three persons alone out of one
thousand escaped that dreadful massacre. The accounts of these things
made the hearts of British soldiers burn within them. We had a number
of native troops from other parts of the country who remained faithful
to the British, but still the rebel regiments far outnumbered the
English troops. We found ourselves once more under the command of our
old general, Sir Colin Campbell. We marched from Calcutta to Cawnpore,
from which the wretch, Nana Sahib, had taken flight, and then on to
Lucknow, which the rebels still held in great force. We lost a great
many men by cholera, and had frequent skirmishes and one or two pitched
battles with the enemy--till early in March, 1858, we were before
Lucknow. Here we had some severe fighting. We had to storm one large
building after another, but at length the rebels were driven out, and
numbers cut to pieces. On one occasion I had to climb a tree to see
what the enemy were about on the other side of a wall; though hundreds
of bullets whistled by me I descended unhurt, but was soon afterwards
hit on the breast with a bullet which knocked me over; I was up again,
and refusing to go to the rear, assisted to capture a fort, and spiked a
gun with my bayonet. While doing this, my kilt was riddled with
bullets, though I escaped unhurt. I was not so fortunate a day or two
afterwards, when attacking a large block of palaces full of Sepoys, for
I received a shot in my neck which laid me low. I was carried out of
the fight by my comrades, and my wound was so severe that I had to be
invalided home. The fight before Lucknow was my last battle.
The English beat the Sepoys wherever they were met, and at length the
British rule was once more firmly established in India.
It was not till I got home again that I was able to go and see poor
Kathleen, and to give her the few things belonging to Marshall. She was
still single; and I have good reason to think that for his sake she
would remain so. Such as I have described them, are some of the common
events of a soldier's life.