WOUNDED AND MADE MUCH OF
“My brigade had carried all before it”—Painful return to camp—General
Gray’s dispatch
I NOW felt much refreshed, and was more pleased with my wound and my
good luck than if I had altogether escaped, and, finally, I began to
calculate on the honour and glory which must follow our victory, for I
was told before I left the field of battle that my brigade had carried
all before it. The new moon soon failed, and my escort and I were
suddenly left in utter darkness, in a rough and undulating country,
without a path or any other means to guide us. It was a bitter cold
night, and I soon became alarmed lest we should lose our way and perhaps
get into the enemy’s lines, and I was not less afraid that my
doolie-bearers might bolt and leave me to my sufferings for the night.
In this critical situation I called to Sergeant Quick to halt for a
moment, and then told him and his men to keep a sharp look out on the
bearers, and if they attempted to run, to fire upon them, and, if
possible, to try and explain this to them. I then told him that if he
heard or saw any suspicious-looking men to let me know at once, but not
to attempt to fire until I ordered. I still retained my sword in my
hand, and had perfect possession of my faculties, and, if attacked, my
mind was fully made up to fight for my life.
We wandered and wandered for nearly an hour without any signs of our
camp, or meeting any one, or knowing where we were going. I felt the
piercing cold more and more, for there was a sharp frost, and I was
sensible of losing blood fast through my bandages, for my doolie was
well saturated with it. I confess I felt uneasy and alarmed, and in this
state I now ordered Sergeant Quick to put me down so as to rest the
bearers, and himself to go a little in front and to lie down and listen
for any sounds which might reach him. He soon returned and said he could
hear nothing, and proposed that we should go on to the top of a rising
ground not far from us. We did so, and again I was put down, and the
sergeant went out in front again to listen, returning soon with the
joyful news that he heard the noise of wheels, as if of artillery or
wagons. I then directed them to take me up and to make for that
direction. My teeth were now chattering with the cold, and I felt weaker
and weaker, but we managed to get over another half-mile or more of
ground, and then I was put down once more, and the sergeant, as before,
went to listen. He now returned in all haste, saying he could see
numerous lights and was sure it was our own camp! This truly revived and
cheered us all, and off we started almost at a trot, and, sure enough,
in half an hour more we entered our camp, and soon after I was in my own
tent and my own bed.
I was indeed thankful, but so cold and shivering that I asked a native
hospital assistant, who soon found me, if a glass of hot brandy and
water would do me any harm. He said not the least, so I immediately sent
my kitmutgar to our mess-man to get one for me; it was brought, and I
did enjoy it, and was just finishing the last drop, when in came our
surgeon, Dr. Davidson, and on being told what I had done he instantly
pitched into his hospital assistant, and in real anger threatened to
destroy him, for giving me the means of causing inflammation and fever!
When he got a little cool he removed my bandages, dressed my wounds, and
again wrapped me up securely for the night, and put me to bed, leaving
strict orders with my bearer and kitmutgar to remain with me, to give me
nothing but barley-water if I wanted a drink, and to call him if
necessary. I soon became warm and composed, and upon the whole had a
good and quiet night, and slept at intervals soundly. Next morning Dr.
Davidson examined and dressed my wound, and told me I had had a narrow
escape, and that I was now doing well. He also informed me that poor
Cobbam was dead; he had received no less than five grape-shot, three in
his body and two in his arm, and died in a doolie soon after I saw him.
My wound was about three inches above the left groin, close to the hip,
and happily without touching the bone; had it been one inch more to the
right it would have been fatal, and instant death, but it pleased God to
order otherwise, and I was then, and continue to this day, truly
thankful. I said before, I was knocked clean over, and thought it was by
a round shot. It struck me on the waist-belt, carrying parts of my belt,
trousers, drawers, shirt, and flannel in with it, and the getting rid of
these fragments day after day in threads and small particles afterwards
caused me more pain than any sufferings from my wound. These grape-shots
were made up in a canvas bag as large as the body of a bottle, with
wooden bottoms, and tied at the top with strong cord. They contained
from eighty to a hundred jagged balls, nearly twice the size of an
ordinary musket-ball, and they were secured by cords wound crossways and
about an inch apart on the bag. When discharged or fired the bag is
burst at once, and the balls carry death and destruction, broadcast,
wherever they fall. My belt being shot through, it dropped off, and with
it I lost my scabbard, which I regretted then, and do to this day.
So ended in victory the battle of Punniar, on the night of the 29th of
December, 1843. All the enemy’s guns were taken, and the survivors of
their army fled in utter confusion and disorder, leaving all their
baggage and stores and many arms behind. Strange to say, on the same day
the main body of the Mahratta army was similarly defeated by Sir Hugh
Gough and our headquarters forces at Maharajpore. This was the distant
cannonade and firing which we heard before going into action.
For a day or two the doctor would not allow any one to see me, but soon
after I had many visits from my brother-officers, and all to
congratulate me on my escape, and, above all, on what they were pleased
to call my “daring, dashing charge across the valley.” Every one spoke
of this, and said it had decidedly crowned the success of the day.
At last General Gray’s dispatch appeared in the public papers, and after
detailing at length the operations of the day, he concluded by saying
that “the 2nd Infantry Brigade, under Brigadier Anderson, of H.M. 50th
Regiment, by an able and judicious movement turned the enemy’s position,
charged and took his guns, and so contributed to the final success of
the day.” My officers were not even satisfied with this, and maintained
that much more should have been said, and all blamed Captain Tudor, the
A.D.C., who was known to have great influence with the general and to
have had much to say and to do in writing the official report of the
battle. In short, Tudor was everything with the general, even to the
management of his household, and for this he was familiarly and
privately called “the chief butler,” and during an angry discussion of
this dispatch, our paymaster, Captain Dodd (who was a witty fellow),
summed up by saying, “Yes, yes; the chief butler forgot Joseph!” It was
also urged and maintained that, supposing I had failed in my dash into
the valley and lost my brigade or been defeated, General Gray would then
have blamed me for attempting to move without his orders, and perhaps
brought me to a general court-martial. But all is well that ends well,
and so I am satisfied, although I do confess I was, like my friends, a
little disappointed at the time.
We remained some days in our encampment at Punniar, and then marched for
Gwalior, where we found the rest of our field forces encamped under the
Commander-in-Chief, Sir Hugh Gough. The Governor-General, Lord
Ellenborough, and his numerous staff were also encamped with our army.
Here we continued for nearly three weeks, during which time the most
happy and social intercourse took place between the different regiments
and corps. We all had our splendid mess marquees and full
establishments, wines and luxuries of every kind, and nothing wanting,
and public dinners every day followed as a matter of course. The
Governor-General and Sir Hugh Gough had also their magnificent
establishments, and had their tables crowded every day with guests from
each of the regiments. I and many others were confined to our tents and
to our beds from our wounds, and could not share in these festivities,
but whatever was ordered and good for us we received regularly from our
respective messes.
I had another advantage: my tent was pitched so near our mess marquee
that I could almost distinctly hear every word that was spoken, and
frequently my own name and health drunk with much cheering and applause.
This acknowledgment may sound to others like vanity, but I still confess
I was well pleased and proud of the good opinion of my brother-warriors.
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