1855--SIEGE OF SEVASTOPOL
Narrow escape of Lord Raglan--Michael Hardy’s dauntless
courage--Death of Lieutenant Douglas--Selections for
the Victoria Cross--Stephen Welch’s Divine-like act of
self-sacrifice--Sardinian outposts at Tchorgoum--Assault of the
Mamelon--An intrepid Zouave--Terrible losses of the Russians.
During the first week in April, Lord Raglan, accompanied by General Sir
Harry Jones, walked round our battery, and on reaching the guns under
my command asked where he could sit down, and Sir Harry told me to
place some empty shell-boxes near the 68-pounder, so that his Lordship
could sit on them. There was only desultory firing at the time, but
probably Sir Harry did not know that the 68-pounders received more
attention from our foes than all the rest of the battery. He went away,
and was scarcely out of sight when a shot cut through the parapet, six
inches only above Lord Raglan’s head, smothering him with stones and
earth. He stood up to shake some of the dirt off his neck and head,
observing in an unmoved tone, “Quite close enough.”
It rained for twenty-four hours on the 8th April, and when we went to
our guns on the 9th, the water was up to the level of the platforms,
which stood ten inches above the ground. The Russians had apparently
not anticipated a renewal of the bombardment, for they scarcely
answered our fire; but we did not know at the time that they had run
out of gun cartridges, and were obliged to use infantry cartridges, to
make up charges for their guns. We got the range immediately with the
8-inch gun, which stood in the obtuse angle of the battery, the right
face of which looked to the Malakoff, and the left face to the Redan.
The gun was served by _Queen’s_, who had been in battery since October,
but the _Leander’s_, who had the two 32-pounders, 56 cwt. guns, were
new to the work, and the shooting was wild. While I was myself getting
the range with the centre gun, the captain of the right-hand gun made
such erratic shots that I ordered him to “cease firing,” when No. 3,
the “Loader,” Able-seaman Michael Hardy, asked me if the gun’s crew
might “change rounds,” and that he might be No. 1; I assented, and
after two trial shots Hardy got on the target, and made excellent
practice.
During the first hour the embrasure of the 8-inch gun, which drew the
greater portion of the enemy’s fire, was cut down and rebuilt three
times. A sergeant and two Sappers, detailed for repairing that part
of the battery, were wounded, and I had personally to repair the
embrasure after the first occasion of its being demolished. After
three hours’ firing, the 8-inch gun where I was standing became so hot
from incessant use that we were obliged to “cease fire,” and the men
released from their work crowded up on the platform to be out of the
water, which in the trench was half-way up to their knees. My other two
guns continued in action; I had a telescope laid in my left hand along
the gun, and was steadying my right hand on the shoulder of Charles
Green, First Class boy, of H.M.S. _Queen_, who was sitting on the right
rear truck of the gun.
While I was calling out the results of the targets made, a man handed
round the rum for the gun’s crew, and Green asked me to move my elbow,
so that he might not shake me while drinking his grog. We both stood
up, and he was holding the pannikin to his mouth, when a shot from
the Redan, coming obliquely from our left, took off his head, the
body falling on me. At this moment Michael Hardy, having just fired
his gun, was “serving the vent.”[30] Hardy had turned up his sleeves
and trousers, and his shirt being open low on the neck and chest, his
face and body were covered with the contents of the boy’s head. Now,
if he had lifted his thumb from the vent the result might have been
fatal to Nos. 3 and 4, who were then ramming home the next charge; but
Hardy never flinched. Without moving his right hand, he wiped with
his left the boy’s brains from his face. Those sitting at my feet were
speechless, being startled, as indeed I was, for I had felt the wind
from the Russian shot which had passed within an inch of my face. We
were brought back to a sense of duty by Hardy’s somewhat contemptuous
“You ---- fools, what the hell are you looking at? Is he dead? Take his
carcase away. Ain’t he dead? Take him to the doctor.” “Jim, are you
home?” he asked of No. 3, the Loader, who was in the act of giving the
final tap, after having rammed home the charge, and seeing him nod,
without bestowing another look on us, or possibly even thinking of me,
he gave the order, “Run out. Ready.”
From this time to his death I saw a great deal of Hardy, as we
generally went to battery together, for although I had become an
Aide-de-Camp I remained at battery duty, when Captain Peel did not
require me.
Hardy carried down my blanket and tea-bottle, receiving my allowance
of rum for his services. He was in many ways a remarkable man, for
when stationed at Eupatoria in the autumn of 1854, he amassed by
questionable means a number of ponies, and started a livery stable,
hiring them out to officers of the Fleet. I cannot say any more of
his courage than that he was as brave as Captain Peel, but in quite a
different way, for I doubt whether Hardy ever felt danger.
Whenever I was in battery during this and the following bombardments,
Captain Peel gave me the same charge as that held by Lieutenants,
and although I never went near him unless I was sent for, he somehow
managed to see or learn anything I was doing well. About 1 p.m. on the
9th I was taken ill; I had been working since daylight on a cup of
coffee, in a thin jacket, and chilled by the incessant rain, shivered
continuously. Captain Peel noticing my state, sent me back to camp, and
in doing so expressed his satisfaction at my conduct. Later, I learnt
he had told Lord Raglan of my mending the embrasure twice under heavy
fire, after the sappers had been wounded, which I was not previously
aware he had seen.
Before night fell on the 9th, one face of the Redan was in ruins, the
guns being silenced. All that night, and throughout the 10th, a steady
fire was kept up on all the Russian batteries by mortars. On the 11th I
was sent early by Captain Peel with a note for Commodore Lushington,
and by him was ordered to take it on to Lord Raglan. The paper was
inscribed with these words: “If the Allies intend to assault, a better
opportunity than this will not offer; the fire of the Russian batteries
round the Malakoff is completely crushed.” When close to Headquarters
and galloping fast, my pony put his foot into a hole, and turning
right over covered my face and clothes with mud, and I thus appeared
before the Commander-in-Chief, who was in the farmyard at Headquarters
casting troop horses, apparently belonging to his escort. He astonished
his Staff by warmly shaking hands with the very dirty Midshipman, as
he offered him breakfast. He then read the note, but merely remarked,
“Impossible, I fear.”
As I rode into the battery on my return, I met four men carrying away
the body of Douglas, my most intimate friend. The top of his head had
been knocked off by a round-shot. On his handsome face there was still
the pleasant smile which endeared him to all of us. He was singularly
unselfish, and by his undaunted courage had attracted the notice of
Captain Peel, who had paid him the compliment of asking him to show his
indifference to danger. On the evening of the 10th, Douglas observed
to me at dinner, “You have lost a good many men to-day, perhaps it
will be my turn to-morrow.” I answered laughingly, “Yes, and mine next
day.” After dinner he went over to H.M.S. _London_ officers’ tent,
and returning said, “Our friends are in considerable trouble, for
their Mess caterer, Twyford, was killed to-day. I shall now close my
accounts, and you shall all pay up to-night.” This we did, and in spite
of my earnest remonstrance he insisted on giving back some money he had
been keeping for me.
During this second bombardment, although the Russians were short of
powder, yet their practice was much better than it was in October.
One of their shells dropping into the magazine of the 8-gun battery
immediately in our front, exploded it, one man being killed and nine
wounded; and although the guns in the battery were uninjured, yet the
earth from the crater formed by the explosion of the shell, twenty
feet in diameter, embedded some of the guns so deeply that they were
unworkable until they were cleared next day.
A shell which burst on striking the parapet near me killed two men and
literally buried three others, so that we had to dig them out; they
were insensible, but all recovered. Ten days later the 21-gun battery
had a fortunate escape, for the Russians dropped a 13-inch mortar shell
through the roof into a magazine; it crushed the magazine-man to death,
but did not explode.
I forbear to enumerate the many narrow escapes most of us had, but
there were two peculiar ones which merit notice. Alongside the magazine
which supplied the gun I was working we had some tools for fitting
fuses; a man was actually sawing a fuse which was clamped in a vice on
a little table, when a shell bursting on the parapet sent fragments
all around us; one fragment struck and ignited the fuse, but the man
escaped with merely a scorched wrist, burnt by the composition. We
were not always so fortunate, for a shell bursting over one of our
68-pounder guns killed or wounded 13 men. I saw a remarkable escape of
Lieutenant Graves, Royal Engineers, who was killed when speaking to me
at the Redan three months later. On the 10th of April he was standing
in an embrasure the faces of which required repair, when a round-shot
struck the sole--that is, the ground surface--immediately under his
feet. He was considerably shaken and bruised by his fall, but was on
duty again in a few days.
It was calculated that during the bombardment the Allies threw 130,000
projectiles into Sevastopol, the Russians answering with about three to
our four shots. Their losses, however, were in proportion greater, as
will be understood on reference to the map at end of Chapter IX. The
Russian projectiles, unless they actually struck the targets, _i.e._
our parapet, guns, or bodies, exploded behind the battery without
doing damage. Many of their works were to some extent enfiladed by our
guns, and thus a shot or shell missing its object often killed someone
farther off. The Malakoff presented to us a target of about 200 yards
wide from east to west, but it was more than double that depth--that
is, from south to north--and thus few of our shells failed to explode
inside the works. Their losses were terrible; and later, during a flag
of truce, when one of our officers observed we had suffered heavy
losses, a Russian officer replied, “You talk of your losses--why, you
don’t know what loss is, in comparison with what we are suffering.” Sir
Edward Hamley describing the Russian hospital, states that the floor
of the operating-room was often half an inch deep in coagulated blood.
By the 18th of April the Allies had beaten down the fire of the Russian
batteries, and General Todleben daily expected that the French would
carry the Bastion du Mat.[31]
The ammunition supply of the Naval guns was much better arranged than
in October, and it was brought in without casualties through the
“Covered way”; but as there were as yet no animals for such purposes,
our men were employed both night and day in carrying up powder, shot,
and shell from Balaklava.
Our losses were heavy. The Bluejackets were somewhat more exposed than
were the Artillery, for their guns, mounted on large wheels, “ran
up” in half the time that it took us to haul out our guns mounted on
trucks, or little wooden wheels. After the April bombardment, and
from that time on, however, the casualties in the two Services were
reversed, for the Artillery manned nearly all the advanced batteries,
and suffered accordingly.
One night early in May, we were replacing some guns which had been
disabled during the April bombardment, and I had occasion to rebuke
Michael Hardy, whose stoical courage had impressed me so greatly on the
9th of April. A party of about 60 men was in charge of a Lieutenant
who had recently joined the Brigade. He was not a good officer, and
had an unpleasant, querulous manner, which accounted for the trouble.
Our 32-pounder guns were put in position by the guns being placed
upside down on the ground, and the carriage fastened on top of it,
with its trucks (wheels) in the air. A long rope was fastened to the
carriage, and a turn of it taken round a hand-spike, which was placed
in the bore of the gun; 50 men were then put on the rope, and with a
sharp pull they turned the gun over into its proper position. Unless
the men holding on the rope were kept in an absolutely straight line,
which was difficult at night and on broken ground, the gun instead
of “coming up” properly would fall on its side, and this happened
several times, mainly through the fault of the officer. The Russians
heard the noise, and sent several shells close over our heads. While
the men were laying hold of the rope for the fifth or sixth time, the
Lieutenant irritated them by some unpleasant observation, and a voice
from the end of the rope was heard to say, “Will nobody send that ----
fool away, and put a man there as knows how to do it?” The Lieutenant
immediately ran off to report to the Senior officer in the battery the
insubordinate state of the men. I waited until he was out of earshot,
and then called out, for I had recognised the voice, “Michael Hardy,
drop that, or you will be a prisoner.” I replaced the men, just as
a couple of shells fell close to us, and giving the words, “One,
two, three, haul,” the gun came up “righted” on its carriage. When
the Lieutenant returned with the Senior officer, they found the men
standing at attention, and the gun in position.
Young officers who may read this book will probably think I was wrong;
officers who have served long, and know the difficulties of getting a
conviction by Court Martial in such a case, will probably think mine
was the better course.
In the second week of May, Commodore Lushington, at a parade, ordered
his Secretary to read out his recommendations for the Victoria Cross
Order, which was not, however, formally instituted till 1856. He had
submitted seven names, and told us he hoped all would be approved;
but in any case he meant to maintain the sequence of names. The first
three were: Captain W. Peel; Midshipman ---- Daniel; Midshipman E.
Wood. I was naturally very pleased, but no one in the Sailors’ camp
then realised the value of the proposed Order, and the opposition to it
amongst the senior officers in the Army raised doubts as to its being
instituted. When Commanding officers professed inability to select
recipients, the Government ordered the selection should be made by the
Rank and File, and in one distinguished battalion a soldier was chosen
who was never long under fire. He lived a comparatively safe and easy
life, for on account of his honesty and steadiness he was entrusted
with the rum keg, which he brought down to the trenches, and having
issued to every man his tot, returned to camp.
During the second week in May, the Sardinian Army, of 15,000 men,
landed at Balaklava, and occupied the left bank of the Tchernaya,
from the aqueduct opposite Tchorgoum village to Tractir Bridge. Two
days later, Lieutenant Dalyell of the _Leander_, my usual companion
(after the death of Lieutenant Douglas), and I, leaving camp at 4
a.m., rode down the Balaklava Valley, anxious to enjoy a ride in fresh
country after being confined for six months to the limited space
of the Upland. The French sentries on Tractir Bridge declined, and
rightly, to allow us to pass; but we went higher up the river, and the
Sardinians mistaking us for Staff officers, from the gold lace on our
caps, raised no objection to our going to Tchorgoum, on the opposite
side, telling us, however, that it was occupied by a Russian picket.
We saw no one except two vedettes on the hill overlooking the village,
150 feet above us. One of them dismounted, and fixing his lance in
the ground used it for a rest for his gun, and had several shots at
me, at about 300 yards’ range, as I was holding Dalyell’s pony, while
he was foraging in a house. Some of the bullets fell near to me, and
three Cossacks hearing the fire came into the road 400 yards up the
village. I shouted to my comrade to mount, and as he emerged six more
Cossacks joined the three men. They formed up in two ranks facing us,
as Dalyell handed me a cat, which I put into my haversack, while he
carried an article of domestic crockery greatly prized in camp. We
hastily consulted as to what we should do, for if we had turned the
Cossacks might have overtaken us before we got back to the aqueduct, so
decided on an aggressive movement. I fired one barrel of my revolver at
the more troublesome vedette of the two, who was, however, a long way
out of pistol-shot, and we then cantered at the group in front of us.
They probably imagined that we had others behind us, for they turned
and fled. As we rode back a company of Sardinians advanced to our
assistance.
Cholera broke out in the Army during the second week in May, and the
Naval Brigade moved out of the sheltered valley where it had encamped
since November, to the top of the hill, near the 3rd Division. We did
not escape altogether, but suffered little in comparison with the
soldiers. On the evening of the 21st May I counted twenty-one bodies
outside the Divisional Hospital tents, sewn up in blankets ready for
burial.
During the forenoon of the 3rd June several men of the Relief for
the gun detachments were going into battery from the Woronzow road;
there was little fire at the time, and the men, disregarding the order
which prescribed that they should enter by the “Covered way,” were
walking over the open ground. As the last of the party approached the
21-gun battery, there was a shout, “Look out, Whistling Dick!” This
induced the men to run, for the appalling size of “Whistling Dick”
struck terror into the bravest heart amongst us. It is illogical, no
doubt, to fear an enormous shell more than a bullet, for either can
send us into the next world, but most of us have a greater fear of
the larger destructive object.[32] All the men except John Blewitt,
of H.M.S. _Queen_, safely reached the trench, and were crouching in
it, waiting for the explosion. Blewitt, as he bent forward to run, was
struck immediately at the back of the knees by the mass of iron, 13
inches in diameter, and fell to the ground crushed under its weight,
in sight of his horror-stricken messmates. He called out to his chum,
Stephen Welch, “Oh, Stephen, Stephen, don’t leave me to die!” The fuse
was hissing, but Welch jumping up from under cover of the edge of the
trench, which must, humanly speaking, have ensured his safety, called
out, “Come on, lads; let’s try,” and running out, he had got his arms
round Blewitt, and was trying to roll the shell from off his legs
when it exploded, and not a particle of the bodies or of the clothes
of the two men could be found. I did not witness Welch’s Divine-like
act of self-sacrifice, but passing immediately afterwards helped the
men, though in vain, to look for his remains. Captain Michell of the
_Queen_, out of his own small income, pensioned Welch’s mother.
During the night of the 3rd June, the Artillery alongside of us were
firing some “carcases,” but it became necessary to stop firing, as
nearly every round burst at the muzzle, wounding some soldiers, and
frightening more. I looked at some of these missiles next morning, and
found that they had been made at the end of the previous century.
On the 6th June I accompanied Captain Peel round the Sailors’ Battery
on the Right Attack, to ensure everyone being ready for what we hoped
might be the last bombardment. At 2 p.m. we fired our first gun at
the Malakoff, and immediately afterwards, from the Inkerman ridge
overlooking the harbour, round to Kamiesh Bay, on a frontage of five
miles, shells were thrown from 550 guns with a force which shook the
ground. The Russians had still about double that number of pieces in
position, but they were slow in answering our fire, which we continued
till dusk. Then the bombardment was taken up by mortars, which lit
up the Russian works throughout the night, so constantly were shells
bursting amongst our enemy. I left the trenches at 10.30 p.m., but
went back again at 1 a.m. with fresh gun detachments; for my duties
as Aide-de-Camp never interfered with my regular employment with the
_Queen’s_ men, unless when actually required by Captain Peel. At
daylight we re-opened horizontal fire, and early in the forenoon had
silenced the Mamelon and Malakoff batteries. Nevertheless, although we
slowed down our fire, we kept the guns in action to prevent any repairs
being undertaken; and at five o’clock Captain Peel gave me charge of
two 8-inch 65 cwt. guns, with instructions that I was to fire during
the assault as long as possible, without endangering our Allies.
At six o’clock, while we were anxiously waiting the signal for attack,
the setting sun had cast a broad red light over the sky, and a soft
mist rising from the ground obscured now and then from our vision the
troops assembling for the assault, about a mile on our right front.
I have described at length the taking of the Mamelon in _The Crimea
in 1854-’94_, and I now confine my story to the help the two guns I
superintended were able to afford our Allies. The remainder of the
guns’ crews in the 21-gun battery had orders to cease firing as soon
as the French started, but I was allowed greater latitude from my
having been over the ground on which the Russians and French were about
to fight. Soon after six o’clock a group of rockets sent up from the
Victoria ridge gave the signal. At that moment there was only one
Russian battalion in the Mamelon, nine being held some way back under
cover. Admiral Nakimoff was visiting the Mamelon at the time, and
having left his horse at the gorge,[33] was walking round the battery,
when the almost total cessation of fire from our batteries, followed by
the shouts of the French, made him look round.
As the signal went up, 25 men jumped out abreast of the trench, and
ran up the slope of the hill towards the Mamelon, from which came
but one cannon-shot. Some Russian sharp-shooters were lying in a
trench half-way up, and firing, killed three or four men, and then
ran, they and the leading Frenchman crossing the ditch of the Mamelon
simultaneously.
A Frenchman mounting the parapet waved a Tricolour, and in four minutes
the Russians were driven from their work. My two 8-inch guns were
ready, with fuses accurately set, and we sent several shells into the
retreating Russians before I ceased firing, for fear of hitting the
French following in pursuit. The leading group of Zouaves was led by
one man, who, 60 yards in front of his comrades, chased the Russians
as they ran. I kept my field-glass on that Zouave until he crossed the
abatis of the Mamelon, where he fired his rifle and disappeared into
the ditch. When his comrades fell back, he did not accompany them.
While this was occurring two columns of Russians assembled on the east
of the Malakoff, on the northern slope of the ridge which connects
the Mamelon and the Malakoff. I had looked carefully over this ground
during the Truce in March, and knowing the lie of it, could when
standing on the parapet locate the Russians, seeing as low down as
their waist-belts. I was thus enabled to pour on them a destructive
fire from the 8-inch guns, the shells of which, bursting just short
enough for effect, literally cut lanes through the masses; but their
comrades closed up as fast, and in a few minutes the Russian columns
advanced, and entering the Mamelon pushed the French out. The man with
the Tricolour was struck down, and replaced four times by others,
and then the flag went up and down, in rapid succession. Eventually
the Russians came down like a rolling wave from the Mamelon, and
penetrated the trenches of our Allies. Just as night closed in,
however, the work was retaken by the French as bravely as the Russians
had recaptured it.
When Lord Raglan saw the French assault he gave the order for our
troops to advance on the Quarries, which were easily taken; but to hold
them and reverse the work was a task involving much labour and loss
of life. The enemy’s works looked right down into the entrenchments,
and the Russians made repeated attacks on the working parties who were
striving to obtain cover before day broke, but our men held on. The
French took 93 guns, and had 5500 casualties; the British, including 47
officers, had 700 casualties; while the Russians lost nearly 5000 in
killed, wounded, and prisoners.
Next morning I went to battery at 4 a.m., as it was intended to
continue the bombardment. About eight o’clock, missing Captain Peel,
I traced him as going towards the Mamelon, where I met him as he was
coming out. He ordered me back, but eventually said I might go and look
for a few minutes. Men spoke in whispers: it was not a place to linger
in; for in the short time I was there, say five minutes, I saw a dozen
Frenchmen killed and wounded. Inside, dead men were lying heaped in
every attitude imaginable, some of the bodies being literally cut into
two parts, while numbers were crushed under overturned cannon. That
afternoon there was a truce for collecting the dead and wounded, and
again going down, I looked carefully over the work, which was a marvel
of labour in constructing cover from fire, enormous baulks of timber
being used to support masses of earth.
During the truce Captain Peel and I strolled up to the Russian
sentries, about 200 yards outside the Malakoff. We recognised a
Circassian chief to whom I had spoken on the 23rd of March, and we
exchanged felicitations on our being alive. Captain Peel’s shirt
collars excited the envy of the Russian officers, who asked how we
managed it, and he replied, “We brought our laundry-women with us.”
Two days later, when Captain Peel, Lieutenant Dalyell, and I were
discussing the chances of the impending assault, Peel asked, “If you
had to lose a limb, which one could you best spare?” I replied without
hesitation, “Left arm.” Dalyell agreed with me, but our Chief argued
that arms are more useful for sailors than legs; eventually, however,
on my suggesting that a one-legged man would probably become very
stout, he came round to our view. It is remarkable that a week later we
were employed in the Assault, and all three of us were wounded in the
left arm.