THE BATTLE OF INKERMANN--THE SOLDIERS OWN.
"What a morning!" said Dr. Reikie to Jack about six o'clock on the
5th. "I can't help thinking we'd just be as snug, and a wee bit
snugger, on board the old _Gurnet_. We can hardly see our
neighbour's nose with the dark and the fog."
"Yes," said Jack, "as snug and snugger; but think of the honour and
glory."
"Oh, bother your honour and glory, let us have breakfast."
"What have you got in that jar, doctor--something to eat? Looks like
a jelly-jar."
"And a jelly-jar it is, Jack, but you wouldn't care to eat what's
inside. It's some rare specimens of the Coleoptera,* Jack. I
spotted them ayont the hill last night, so I just rubbed the inside
of this jar with butter, and stuck it in a bush. I've now been to
fetch it, and it's about half full. I'll show them to you at
breakfast."
* The Beetle tribe.
"Oh no, thanks; not then."
"Beauties they are, I assure you, and prettily bronzed; and some in
uniform, you might say--in navy-blue with gold and white facings."
"Indeed!"
"Ay, indeed; and this, it seems to me, is a provision of nature to
enliven the ghastly duty they perform."
"Ghastly duty, doctor?"
"Ay, ay, just. They bury the dead!"
By this time Jack was nearly ready, and it was almost daylight.
"Why, Dr. Reikie, you're wounded!"
The worthy surgeon's left arm was bound round with a blood-stained
handkerchief.
"Oh, that's nothing. When I was stooping down and 'mooling' round
the bush, a sentry hailed me. I didn't know he was crying to me, and
took no heed, till bang went his rifle, and ower I went on my hinder
en'. I wouldn't have cared for the skin wound, Jack; but, man, the
dashed bullet has torn the sleeve of my best coat! But come on; the
specimens are cheap at any price, and in Edinburgh Museum--Listen!
wasn't that a big gun?"
Yes, a big gun it was; and Soimonoff was at it hammer and tongs.
"Come on, Jack, come on," cried Reikie; "it's quarters, I suppose.
And take my advice, just ram a biscuit in your pocket; you may come
over a hungry hillock before darkening; but--there it goes again.
Why, old General Soonenough, or whatever his stupid name is, must be
jumbled in his judgment to begin fighting before decent folk have
their breakfast.--Ah! here you come with my sword, Paddy. Look, lad,
look; this is a jelly-jar. Are you listening?"
"Troth am I, sorr. A jaily-jar, ye said."
"Yes; and it contains beautiful beetles all alive."
"All alive, sorr."
"Burial beetles, so you must keep them safe, and not break the paper;
for if they swarm out in your pocket, Paddy, why, they'll bury you
alive."
"All right, sorr; I'll take 'em, and if one of my mates is killed,
I'll give 'em to him. Sure, sorr, it won't matter much if a dead man
is buried aloive. But the grace o' God be about us, sorr, on this
raw, misty morning."
Soimonoff--or Soonenough, as Dr. Reikie called him--with 300
skirmishers in front, came on in a line of 6,000 men, supported by
3,000. These covered his batteries of twenty guns brought from the
great fortress, and they were soon posted on Shell Hill and adjoining
buttresses. It was these large batteries that opened fire about
seven in the morning, their guns reverberating from hill to hill.
The general's lighter guns and 9,000 men came on behind his first
advance, which now began to descend from the higher ground.
You will note, if you glance at the plan, that a road goes on past
the camp of the Second Division to Quarry Ravine, which is nearly met
at its head by a portion or gully of Careenage Ravine. This
naturally narrows the plateau above. Here our pickets had built a
wall of loose stones between two copses, and called it the Barrier.
Our pickets numbered about 500, and were driven in; but Pennefather,
who commanded instead of Evans (sick), advanced to their support,
leaving the crest (plan) supported only by a dozen guns and a body of
infantry.
The fire of the Russian guns reached this crest, tore through the
camp in its rear, and killed men and horses there.
On the narrow plateau, then, Soimonoff could not advance with so
broad a line, else he would have attacked us all along our position.
His troops were more or less massed therefore, and did not seem to us
so numerous.
One of his battalions attacked a wing of the 49th, and were driven
back in beautiful style, pell-mell, almost to the slopes of Shell
Hill.
Then the Russian general himself came on with 9,000 men, leading in
person, and a column of sailors advanced at the same time up the
Careenage Ravine itself, where of course the fog lay thickest. Had
we been Russians attacked in this terrible position, I don't hesitate
to say we would have fled at once.
But Pennefather's force now amounted to 3,000 men and eighteen
field-guns.
Let us take a look at the Russian sailors who are coming up the
ravine. Their object was to get to the plateau in our rear, and
Heaven only knows how things would have gone if they had succeeded,
for the masses of the enemy had already driven back the 88th near the
crest.
But Buller himself arrived opportunely, and with a company of the
Guards and the 77th attacked this ravine column so vigorously that it
was driven back and seen no more.
The battle now raged hot and terrible, the 47th and 77th charging in
beautiful style, and finally driving two Russian battalions
helter-skelter off the field. Other three battalions close by were
disheartened, and they too joined the rout.
General Soimonoff was killed, so his name will bother us no more.
General Buller also had his horse killed under him, and he himself
was wounded, and therefore placed _hors de combat_.
The other six battalions charged our centre, and the battle continued
for a time to rage along both sides of the road leading to Quarry
Ravine. They caught it hot also, and soon their ranks, sadly
thinned, were swept off the ground.
But where was the other general with the more pronounceable name,
Pauloff? He was all too quickly to the fore. The broken and flying
battalions of the slain General Soimonoff had joined Pauloff's first
eight battalions at the head of the Quarry Ravine, and had formed in
front of our right, their own right being across the road there, and
their left on what was called the Sand-bag Battery. This was a
battery that had been thrown up by General Evans in opposition to one
that the Russians had constructed after the twenty-sixth of October.
It had a parapet and two embrasures of sand-bags. But after having
unshipped the enemy's guns, ours had been taken away. Well, this
"Sand-bag Battery" was to-day the centre of terrible conflict, and
was taken and retaken about half a dozen times in all.
As Pauloff's regiment on the right advanced towards the Barrier, one
of the grandest and hottest charges of the day was made by the 30th.
They were but 200 in all, but leaped the Barrier and dashed into the
advancing foe, and although we had officers and men cut down--too
many, alas!--the Russian regiment was hurled back towards Shell Hill
and down the Quarry glen.
Then the other regiments were attacked with vim and vigour; the end
of this part of the battle being the utter rout of Pauloff's army of
15,000 by little more than 3,000 dashing Englishmen.
Pauloff might easily have been excused for believing after this that
our gallant fellows had large supports behind them.
A new battle, however, may be said to have begun at half-past seven
o'clock, when General Dannenberg himself arrived. Pauloff's army was
soon swelled again to 19,000.
Ours had been reinforced by the Guards, by men from the First
Division batteries, and by Cathcart with 2,000 men from the siege
works. But those troops of ours that had so bravely defended the
Barrier had to fall back, overpowered by force of numbers. The
Russians, however, were soon dislodged by the 63rd, the 21st, and
Rifles. Ten thousand of Pauloff's troops now attacked our centre,
Dannenberg himself assuming full command.
Dannenberg's first attack was on Adams, against whose poor brave 700
no less than 4,000 troops were hurled. The fight was desperate, the
enemy now rushing on like demons. It raged about the slopes of the
Fore Ridge and Sand-bag Battery. The Guards rushed now from the
crest to the support of Adams, and again and again were the Russians
hurled backwards with fearful slaughter; our fellows, however, not
pursuing, but standing on the defensive, till back rushed the foe,
only to meet further repulse and greater slaughter.
But when Cathcart came up, things assumed a different aspect; for
this brave man, though possessed now of only 400 men--the rest being
lent, so to speak, here and there over the field wherever
needed--descended the slope to the right, and took the offensive. At
first his attack was successful, and the enemy fled in confusion.
But, alas! it ended in disaster; for a body of Russians had broken
through our front, and descended on him from the very height he had
quitted. His brave little corps was scattered, and only returned
fighting in groups against fearful odds, and strewing the ground with
their dead and wounded.
Alas! Cathcart himself was among the slain.
This part of the battle ended in a series of independent fights,
which broke our line of continuity, and enabled the Russians for a
time to occupy the Fore Ridge. A French regiment came now to the
rescue, outflanked the enemy, and drove them back.
But another terrible attack was soon made by the persistent foe.
Once more their great guns, about a hundred in all, ploughed the
crest with shot and shell; once more our centre was attacked by the
columns that rushed up from the Quarry Ravine. And this fight was
the most desperate of all.
For a time the Russians were so far successful that they not only
took and occupied the crest, but drove our troops back from the head
of Careenage Ravine, capturing and spiking some of our guns.
The main column of the Russians meanwhile came on after, and passing
our troops at the Barrier, hurried on to support their front lines.
But these had been driven back by the French, and so the main body
had to encounter victors.
Bloody and terrible was the stand the foe made, however, and fearful
were the losses they encountered. They reeled, they struggled, and
finally fell back.
For a time after this the fight raged all about the head of the
Quarry Ravine and Sand-bag Battery, and once the French themselves
were all but beaten, and lost ground. They were reinforced in time,
however, and soon after this the battle was in a measure decided. We
got bigger guns to bear now upon Shell Hill, and a great artillery
fight took place. This and a daring attack by our infantry caused
Dannenberg to retreat at last. And neither our troops nor those of
the French were in a position to follow up his retreat.
So ended this bloody battle: Dannenberg sullenly retiring; the allies
too weak, too exhausted to follow up their victory by a final and
triumphant charge.
They say that so utterly worn out were our brave fellows, and the
French as well, that no wild spirit of exultation followed victory;
and when the gloaming of that sad day fell upon the field of battle,
there was little to break the silence--now that the enemy had fled
back to the great fortress--save the mournful moaning of the wounded.
The carnage on this field was fearful, especially all about the Fore
Ridge and between that and the cliffs, where we are told the dead lay
in swathes. So numerous were they that it was difficult to walk, far
less to ride, through these lines without stumbling over the bodies
of the slain.
The Russians lost altogether 256 officers and 12,000 men in killed
and wounded. We lost in killed 597 officers and men, and had nearly
2,000 wounded.
* * * * *
The battle of Inkermann may well be called the soldiers' own battle,
for never before, perhaps, since the days of old was there so much
hand-to-hand fighting, and so much display of courage and
determination both in officers and in men, individually, in small
groups, and shoulder to shoulder in line.
I wish I had space in which to speak and tell you of the many deeds
of valour done this day single-handed. I shall--because I
must--resist the temptation to do so, merely adding that nowhere in
the open field, either in regiments or single-handed, did the
Russians prove themselves any match for the British, and God grant
they never may.
* * * * *
Long after nightfall our doctors were busy indeed. Our own wounded
must first be seen to, and then those of the enemy--for the British
are ever merciful. Neither Jack nor Dr. Reikie nor Paddy O'Rayne was
wounded; and although the worthy Scotch surgeon's arm was stiff and
painful, hardly did he close an eye that night, so much had he to do.
Jack and O'Rayne both helped him, but sank at last with exhaustion,
so Reikie plodded on in his good work until day began to dawn.
Nature would be resisted no longer, and the poor fellow fell asleep
on the battle-field itself. He did not wake for hours.
O'Rayne and Jack had both been searching for him.
"An' sure here you are at last, sorr. Troth, I thought it was dade
entoirely you were."
"I'm all right," said Dr. Reikie, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"And it's as plazed as the pigs we both are, sorr, for that same.
Sure we belaved some wounded Russian had kilt you."
Dr. Reikie got up now and gave himself a bit of a shake as a collie
dog might have done. That was all his toilet.
"Paddy," he cried, "I forgot to ask you what about the specimens."
"I kaipt them for you, sorr, as safe as the apple av me eye. And
here they are, sorr, if they're any use to you to bury the dead."