1854–5--A NAKED AND STARVING ARMY
Indescribable sufferings of the old soldier--Contrast of naval with
military system--Commodore Lushington’s work--Lunch with Lord
Raglan--_Times_ correspondent saves remnant of Army--Christmas
Day--Captain Peel’s plan for cutting out a Russian ship--A
pony’s sagacity.
The storm on the 14th was the commencement of misery so great as to
defy adequate description. Some writers have ascribed the loss of
lives and of health to the climate. This is inaccurate. The climate of
the Crimea, though more variable, is no more inclement than that of
the north of England; moreover, we now know that few men or animals,
with adequate food and suitable clothing, are killed by bad weather,
and as long as they are well fed hard work has little adverse effect
on their health. Officers who were able to procure extra food and
clothing maintained in comparison their health, while the Rank and File
were perishing by hundreds. In eight battalions which served in the
immediate Front with the sailors, 73 men out of every 100 died from
starvation and want of clothing. The weather was indeed deplorable. I
see by my Diary our batteries were flooded on the 27th November, and to
add to the trials of the troops, cholera reappeared on the 2nd December.
Some fresh meat was issued in January and February, but the sick were
always served first, and as the whole quantity available in sixty days
worked out at 14 lbs. a man, with more than half the Army in hospital,
the men still “at duty” had practically none. Moreover, if it had been
issued, there were no means of cooking it; although an Army Order
authorising a ration of fuel was issued in the first week in December,
it was nearly a month before effect could be given to the order. The
troops lived practically on salt meat, biscuit, and rum. They preferred
pork, because it was more easily cooked than what the sailors call
salt-junk, for Chicago beef had not then been canned. Many of the men
could eat neither beef nor pork, for their mouths were affected with
scurvy.
The War Minister wrote in the spring of 1854 to Lord Raglan: “I cannot
help seeing through the calm and noble tone of your announcement of the
decision to attack Sevastopol that it has been taken in order to meet
the views and desires of the Government, and not in entire accordance
with your opinions.” The disaster is summed up in the Report of the
Sevastopol Inquiry Committee presented to the House of Commons in 1855.
The Committee show clearly that “the blame rested on the Ministry, and
on the nation.” The Administration which ordered the expedition had no
adequate information as to the amount of the forces in the Crimea, as
to the strength of the fortresses to be attacked, or of the resources
of the country to be invaded. They did not foresee the probability of a
protracted struggle, and made no provision for a winter campaign.
The _Queen_ sailed for the Bosphorus early in December. Many Army
officers imagine that the comparative plenty in the Sailors’ camp was
due to their drawing supplies from the Fleet. This is an error. We got
canvas, blankets, carpenters’ tools, and such like from our ships, but
our food was entirely drawn from Army stores; indeed, the Navy had no
storeships on which we could draw, and in the worst of the weather,
when snow lay thick on the ground, were occasionally on half rations,
and often on the verge of starvation, though there was always food at
Balaklava.
In the Naval Brigade, when the men returned at daylight from the
battery, they were allowed to rest for three hours, and were then
marched down to Balaklava for supplies, each man carrying up from 30 to
50 lbs. in haversacks or bags. The sailors did get their warm clothing
a few days earlier than it was available for the Army, our first
instalment being issued on the 30th December. It is remarkable that
the Naval officers should have been so much more successful in looking
after their men than the Army officers, but the fact is undoubted
that they were so. The suffering caused to the Army arose from want
of transport for nine miles. Nevertheless, even without transport,
something might have been done in the winter by organisation, but Army
officers had not been trained to think of measures for supplying the
men’s wants.
Regimental officers could not obtain clothing until they had signed
requisitions and forms, it being held of more importance in peace
to ensure a soldier not getting a coat a month earlier than he was
entitled to it by regulation, than that he should be kept in health.
The losses in the Naval Brigade by disease were small, from all causes
only 10½ per cent., of which 7 per cent. were fatal wound cases. The
Cavalry lost an average of 15 per cent., and 24 per cent. died in the
Infantry battalions, which during the winter were carrying stores from
Balaklava. The Infantry in the Front, however, lost on an average 39
men in every 100, and, as stated above, in eight battalions which were
most exposed the mortality amounted to 73 per cent.
The Naval Brigade on the 20th November left the high ground near the
Picket-house and moved to a new camp, which was pitched at the head
of a ravine running between Headquarters and the French camps. Here
we were much more sheltered from the wind, and were, moreover, a
mile nearer Balaklava. It took us three days, for we had to carry on
our backs tents, hospital marquee, and ammunition. About this time,
however, our work became lighter, for we sent only half detachments,
_i.e._ guns’ crews, down to the batteries at night, and thus got more
work done, in the way of building and carrying, than previously had
been the case. As I have recorded, Captain Peel did much to bring out
the grand fighting qualities of the sailors employed in the Right
Attack. Commodore (later Sir Stephen) Lushington initiated all the
sanitary measures which helped to keep down our sick list; it was he
who organised the carrying parties, and got the warm clothing brought
up. He insisted on the tents being thoroughly drained, and made
shelters, the walls being rough stones, for drying the men’s clothing.
After he had built a wooden hospital, the next shed, which he got
up about the middle of January, was converted into a drying-room.
In contrast with the Army arrangements, where the soldier who up to
December was supposed to cook in the little tin pot he carried on his
back, the sailors had company cooks, who were not sent to the trenches.
We made sufficiently good soup cauldrons out of the big empty
powder-cases, one of which proved too heavy for me and my companion on
the 17th October. Whenever there was coal or charcoal in Balaklava,
some was brought up daily, the Officers in command themselves carrying
loads. Commodore Lushington borrowed some well-sinkers from the Army,
and thus ensured our men drinking only pure water; and not only was
great attention paid to the cleanliness of our camp, but latrines were
placed on the far side of the ravine, and to get the men over it with
dry feet he built a suspension bridge, the footway of which was made of
casks. In December the Commodore got two thousand pairs of drawers, and
bought personally three hundred pairs of boots at Constantinople, which
were issued to the men on repayment.
Every morning before the Bluejackets marched off, whether at three or
six o’clock, they had to drink their cocoa or coffee on parade, to
ensure that they did not go down to battery with an empty stomach.
Similarly quinine and lime juice were issued, and always drunk in the
presence of an officer. When the men returned from the batteries in
the evening, they had hot soup, made from salt meat which had been
soaked for many hours to extract the saline. Not only had the sailors
much more clothing than the soldiers, but the officers saw that every
Bluejacket on returning from the trenches hung his wet garments in the
drying shed,[25] which was heated with a stove, so that he did not lie
down in his wet clothes. Later in the siege, when our men got their
pay monthly, there was some drunkenness, and it being detrimental to
health, was checked by a Tattoo Roll parade taken by officers, who in
those days did much of the work performed by non-commissioned officers
in the Army.
[Illustration: MARCHING ORDER, JULY, 1854.
ON THE MARCH, SEPTEMBER, 1854.
THE TRENCHES. JANUARY, 1855.
APRIL 1855.]
When we moved over our camp to the sheltered ravine, the _Queen’s_
officers made a hut twenty-four feet long, eight feet broad, and seven
feet high. Following the Tartar fashion, we sank the hut about four
feet, allowing the roof only to show above ground. In it we had our
meals, but it was not big enough for use as a dormitory. A day or
two after we shifted camp, Commodore Lushington had a visit from the
officer commanding the French regiment encamped immediately to the
westward of our ravine, who said most politely, “We gather that some of
your men have indistinct ideas on the ownership of animals. Now, I have
given our men strict orders they are not to retaliate, but I had better
explain to you that this one-sided arrangement cannot continue, and
as I have got in my corps some of the most expert thieves from Paris,
unless your men desist, some morning when you wake you will find that
half your camp has disappeared.” We passed this on to our Bluejackets,
and the hint must have been taken, for we remained good friends.
On the 11th December I received a message from the Officer commanding
the Infantry detachments in the trenches, asking me to fire on a
working party of some twenty Russians, employed under the Malakoff
Tower, in extending a trench towards the Mamelon. I trained a Lancaster
gun on the party, a range of 1720 yards; but as the gun always carried
to the right, I laid a little to the left of the Russian right-hand
man. They usually kept a look-out man, who gave warning when our guns
fired, when the men disappeared into the trenches: on this occasion,
however, at least half of them remained at work, and the shell catching
the left-hand man cut him in two.
Next night when I went to sleep, at about eight o’clock, in battery,
it was freezing and bitterly cold, so I had crawled into a hole, being
more anxious for shelter from wind than rain. The wind dropped about 2
a.m., and rain fell. This awoke me, and I realised that I was getting
wet, but was too tired to rise. When I tried to do so at daylight, on
the Relief arriving, it was freezing again, for with the coming day the
temperature had fallen, and I was unable to move. My comrades carried
me back to camp, and with hot bottles to my feet and all around me, I
revived. About this time the Naval officers,[26] before returning to
camp at daylight, went round to help in soldiers who from the intense
cold had become incapable of movement.
At the end of that week I made the acquaintance of Lord Raglan. When I
was not in battery I went down daily to Balaklava or Kamiesh Bay to buy
food for our Mess, and being at the latter place I went on board H.M.S.
_Beagle_, to see Hewett.[27] I stayed for the night, appreciating
greatly the good food, but still more the unlimited power of ablution,
and a new coat and trousers he gave me. Lieutenant Burgoyne,[28] H.M.S.
_Swallow_, my former shipmate in H.M.S. _Queen_ (_vide_ p. 13), dined
with us, and next morning asked me to take a letter to his father, Sir
John Burgoyne, the Engineer-in-Chief of the Army. I willingly assented,
although to deliver it I should have to go a mile or so round. When
I left Kamiesh it was raining, and by the time I had walked eight
miles to Headquarters, it seemed to me double that distance. I was
covered with mud to my knees and wet through, so was anxious not to
be seen, for besides being very dirty, Midshipmen were then taught to
regard their superiors with awe. I was hurrying away, after handing in
my letter, when I was called back and taken to see Lord Raglan, who
had lunching with him General Niel, to whom I was presented. My host
covered me with confusion by narrating the incident of trying to carry
the powder into battery, and the story of the burning magazine, of
which he had heard from Captain Peel, and said pleasant things about
me, after which, to my great relief, I was allowed to talk to one of
his Staff, who was told to provide me with food.
I spent Christmas Day in the battery, and while speaking to a sergeant
in charge of a working party, was nearly killed by what we thought was
a shot, for it lodged in the parapet close to us without interrupting
our conversation. A few seconds later it burst, and a fragment cut
my cap off my head without raising the skin. I dined that night with
Captain Peel, the other three guests being Commodore Lushington, our
Commander, and Captain Moorsom, the Commander of the Left Attack.
I felt much honoured by the company in which I was placed. Mr.
Daniel, Captain Peel’s Aide-de-Camp, had been invalided, and so I was
acting for him. The dinner was a culinary triumph, considering the
circumstances, and included all the dishes to be seen on a Mess table
in England. We certainly did not realise at the moment the intensity of
the suffering of our soldier-comrades close to us. We could not have
done anything by individual effort of the sailors, for if such had been
acceptable it would have been useless; but we certainly should not have
enjoyed our dinner had we understood what the proud reticence of the
Long-service soldier concealed.
One of the senior Regimental officers wrote at 4 p.m. that day: “At
this hour the Division to which I belong has not had an ounce of meat
for dinner; in fact, dinner there is none.” This was the worst time
of the winter, and to the middle of January was the climax of the
misery of our men. Since Inkerman we had only had 14,000 effectives,
and on the 1st January there were only 11,300 “at duty,”--it cannot be
said they were fit for duty,--and there were 23,000 in hospital. From
this time on, however, our men’s state was ameliorated. On the 28th
December the sailors obtained the first instalment of the Crimean Army
Fund. A small sheep was selling at £5 that day, but by the liberality
of the British Public we bought from the Fund very good tea at 6d.
instead of 3s. 6d. a pound, and other articles in proportion. This
Fund was due to the plain writing of Dr. W. H. Russell,[29] of the
_Times_. It is remarkable that Lord Raglan and Sir Colin Campbell were
the only senior Officers who did not in the first instance resent Dr.
Russell’s outspoken comments on the incapacity of our Government, and
the inefficiency of the Departments. As I showed in _The Crimea in
1854-’94_, officers came round later to Russell’s views: Lord Clyde
(Colin Campbell) left him by will a keepsake, and the survivors of the
Crimean War feel grateful to him, and the _Times_, for his outspoken
statements.
In January snow fell, and lay three feet on the ground and twelve feet
in drifts; but the Naval Brigade never ceased to send carrying parties
to Balaklava. I should not like my readers to infer that the Army did
nothing, for the troops at Balaklava in December and in January carried
on their heads 7000 loads of siege materials from the harbour to the
Engineer Parks, and 145 tons of biscuits to the Army Headquarters; if
they had not done so, not a man in the Front could have existed. The
half-starved, insufficiently clad, overworked, but uncomplaining Old
soldier, serving at the Front, was generally in the trenches four or
five nights, and in one recorded instance for six nights, in a week;
those on sentry duty, 300 yards in advance of our works, having to
stand motionless for two hours at a time. When they got back to camp
they had but the shelter of a worn-out tent, through which the rain
beating, collected in puddles; the feeblest fell asleep, completely
exhausted, to awake shivering, and carried to a hospital tent but
little better than the company tent, and two or three days later to a
grave. The stronger men went out with picks when available, and dug up
roots of stunted oak and vines for fuel, and then roasting the green
coffee berry in the lid of the canteen, pounded it in a shell fragment,
and boiled it. The greater number, however, unequal to so much effort
for so little result, consuming their biscuit and rum, slept, generally
in a wet greatcoat or blanket, until required to carry a load of
ammunition or biscuit. These loads were limited to 40 lbs.; but the
exertion was great, for the men on the Balaklava track waded through
mud.
When going down that track on the 31st January, I had my boots sucked
off my feet in the tenacious soil, and I saw eighteen horses trying in
vain to move a gun-carriage similar to that which we had dragged up by
hand on the same ground in the previous October.
However, the ground was now drying up, and we mounted some new guns in
both Attacks during the first week of February. There was still great
misery amongst the soldiers, but it was lessening, and there were a few
days of fine weather early in the month.
On the night of the 3rd a party of 150 Bluejackets were dragging guns
down to the Left Attack. For some reason to me unknown, they, it was
said owing to injudicious treatment of the officers, turned sulky, and
at a further unpalatable order given just as they got the guns on the
rising ground overlooking the Left Attack trenches, the men dropped
the drag ropes, and in spite of the expostulations and orders of their
officers, returned to camp. Next day all these men were handed over
to me for punishment on the principle of “Watch and watch,” but the
watch in their case consisted of manual labour. They were employed in
carrying duties, and were not to be allowed more rest in camp than four
hours. The unusual experiment of giving a young Midshipman the command
of 150 men who had behaved badly ended satisfactorily, the men being
forgiven after undergoing a week’s punishment.
Towards the end of February we re-armed the 21-gun battery throughout,
mounting some 8-inch 65 cwt. guns, and long 32-pounders, 56 cwt.,
besides two more 68-pounders, and another Lancaster, 95 cwt. gun. We
had now more soldiers to guard our Position. The Right Attack trenches,
which extended over a mile, had been often held by 350, and one night
by 300 men; but reinforcements were now arriving. Admiral Boxer, who
came to Balaklava and took charge of the Port at the end of January,
effected vast improvements: he built landing-stages, and evolved order
out of Chaos, and thus, when carrying parties went down to the harbour,
they were no longer kept waiting for their loads.
The last week of February, the 2nd Division was annoyed by the shells
thrown up from two Russian men-of-war, moored in the outer harbour.
Their guns were slung on deck at an angle of 45°. Captain Peel worked
out a scheme for the capture of the vessel, on which he did me the
honour of asking my opinion. He proposed to take six boats after dark
down the face of the Inkerman cliff, almost opposite the steamers,
which were lying 300 yards from the shore. We were to launch the
boats, board the ships, and kill or drive below the few men only who
would be on deck, as we believed, after the crew had retired to rest.
If we succeeded, we were to tow the ships ashore, or if necessary,
higher up the harbour, immediately under the hill on the crest of
which the critical struggle of Inkerman took place. I was silent, but
when pressed for an opinion as to the probable result I frankly said
that I thought its success was more than doubtful; I argued, however,
that our loss of men would not be in vain, for the Russians would
probably withdraw their steamers, while our men would be encouraged by
the adventurous nature of the undertaking. I gathered later that Lord
Raglan was in favour of the attempt, but the Naval Commander-in-Chief
vetoed it.
Captain Peel’s scheme having become known, it encouraged other seamen,
and later John Shephard, Boatswain’s Mate of H.M.S. _St. Jeanne d’Arc_,
invented, and constructed a small boat for one man carrying a powerful
explosive. He got amongst the Russian ships without being noticed; but
the ferry-boats, which plied to the north side, and back, prevented
the execution of his plan. To my grief, Captain Peel now being sick,
re-embarked, and the _Diamond’s_ men were recalled to their ship, Peel
himself passing later to the command of H.M.S. _Leander_, a larger
frigate.
On the 22nd March the Russians attacked the French near the Mamelon
early in the evening, and were repulsed, after inflicting considerable
loss on our Allies. Later, another strong column, passing up by the
left or western end of the French works, moved on our No. 8 battery,
just below the 21-gun battery, led by a handsome Circassian chief, who
was attended by a small bugler about sixteen years of age. The lad
stood on our parapet, sounding the advance, until he fell, pierced by
seven bullets. There was much hand-to-hand fighting, but the end of it
was that the Russians were driven back, mainly by parties of the 7th,
34th, and 90th Regiments.
Next day a flag of Truce was arranged for 12.30, and I was sent down to
the trenches with a large piece of calico, which I handed over to the
Senior officer in the battery, and then hurried on to our most advanced
trench, hoping to reach the Mamelon before the sentries on either side
were pushed out. When the flag was hoisted, I ran as fast as I could to
the Front, and picking up a wounded Russian, on the north side of the
ravine, sent him back by soldiers who were following me. The man must
have been told we were cruel, for he made signs begging for his life.
Near to him I picked up a haversack, and the Russian, when he saw that
he was not to be killed, begged me to give him the black bread inside
it. For two hours the combatants on either side engaged in friendly
conversation.
There were some few Russian officers who spoke English, and many could
converse in French. Some of them remarked on the excellent practice
we made with the 68-pounder gun in the 21-gun battery, and said they
hoped to open upon us with one of a similar calibre next morning, with
which they intended to silence our gun. We accepted the challenge
eagerly, and arranged that other guns should not take part in the duel.
Soon after daylight the Russian gun opened fire, and we answered it
shot by shot, no other guns taking part in the cannonade. Our practice
was, however, better than that of our opponents, and the seventeenth
shot caused the Russians to cease firing, and drop a mantlet over the
embrasure, thus admitting that they were out of action.
On the 2nd April Captain Peel rejoined, bringing with him 200 men from
his new command, H.M.S. _Leander_, and took me for his Aide-de-Camp,
for Mr. Daniels had not then returned. Captain Peel’s opinion was
valued more and more from this time, and with Lord Raglan he daily
gained influence. Before he rejoined the Brigade, he proposed a scheme
for breaking the floating boom which enclosed the entrance to the
harbour. His plan was to lash on either side of H.M.S. _Leander_ a
laden collier, and then, sending everyone below, to steer the ship
himself at full speed against the obstacle. He calculated that the
combined weight of the vessels would break the boom, and once inside
the harbour Peel intended to engage the forts, being supported by the
whole of the Fleet, which he urged should follow him. Though his plan
was not adopted, his enterprise and carefully-thought-out scheme gained
him increased consideration at Army Headquarters.
I nearly lost my appointment as Aide-de-Camp on the 6th April, when
going up the “Covered way” on the right of our 68-pounders. Just as
I reached the gun a man called out to me, “Look out!” I stood still,
but had not time to move before a 13-inch mortar shell fell within six
feet of me. It was fitted, however, with a long fuse, and by using
my legs freely I got out of reach before it burst. Besides the great
privilege of being associated with Captain Peel, I gained another
advantage in that I was now entitled to draw forage for my pony. During
the following week I profited by the animal’s sagacity. I had been sent
with a message to a party constructing a battery in front of our Left
Attack, the ground of which I did not know in the same way as that of
the Right, where I could almost find my way blindfolded. It was just
dark, when, having delivered my message, I turned my face as I thought
homewards, but inadvertently rode out to the left of the Left Attack,
just where it joined hands with the right of the French. My pony was
going unwillingly, and seeing that I had lost my way I halted. I could
not identify my position, so threw the reins on the pony’s neck; it
turned sharply round, and cantered direct to my camp.