COLONEL BELL AND THE VICTORIA CROSS.
In a previous chapter we traced the history of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers
(23rd Regiment). We showed how they won their laurels in Egypt, in Spain,
in the West Indies, in the Pyrenees, and at Waterloo. We described the
act of humanity by which Corporal Shields and Dr. Sylvester earned the
Victoria Cross, and the gallant deed by which Sergeant (now Captain)
Luke O’Connor attained the same honourable distinction. But the roll of
heroes among the Royal Welsh is not yet exhausted, and we are now about
to show how Colonel (then Captain) Bell conducted himself with such
gallantry as to justify his sovereign in bestowing on him the Cross of
Valour. Mr. Desanges’ picture No. IX., which has been faithfully copied
by our artist, introduces Captain Bell in the act of capturing one of
the enemy’s guns at the battle of the Alma. In order to understand this
event, it is necessary to glance briefly at the position which the Royal
Welsh occupied during the battle. The soldiers of No. 1 company, under
the command of Major Lysons, had the honour of being the first British
troops that landed in the Crimea. As soon as they had disembarked,
Brigadier Airey sent them to attack some arabas, or Russian waggons,
which were seen in the distance; on coming up to the Cossack escort, they
fired upon them and put them to flight. This was the commencement of the
campaign. Fourteen arabas, full of firewood and fruit, with their drivers
and bullocks, remained in the possession of the Royal Welsh, and were the
first waggons used in the Land Transport of the army.
From the period of disembarkation till the battle of the Alma, the Royal
Welsh had no opportunity of distinguishing themselves. In this engagement
they formed part of Sir George Brown’s right brigade, which was under
the command of General Codrington, an officer of the Guards, who, having
visited the East from motives of curiosity, was induced to accept this
important charge. The only orders he had received from Sir George were
to advance with his brigade till he had passed the river which flowed
through the valley at the foot of the heights where the Russians were
drawn up. When a general has confidence in his subordinates, he does
well to allow them a certain freedom of action, as it is impossible to
anticipate all the eventualities which may occur on the day of battle.
The left brigade of the Light Division was under the command of General
Buller, who is said to have received the same instructions as Codrington.
The two brigades advanced steadily in the direction of the river, the
bank of which, on the Russian side, varied from eight to fifteen feet
in height, but was not so steep as to prevent our men from obtaining a
footing on it. The river itself was of no great depth, but the bank on
the side of the allies was covered with gardens and vineyards, which our
men could not cross without getting into disorder. As they advanced they
became exposed to the fire of the enemy, who had erected on the opposite
heights two batteries mounted with brass guns which swept the plain. When
the Welsh Fusiliers and their companions of the right were brought within
long range, they deployed and halted. It was a bright, sunny day—not a
cloud in the sky, nor a breath of air stirring—and our men, suffering
from thirst and fatigue, helped themselves to clusters of grapes, and lay
down leisurely on the ground, careless of the balls which were whizzing
past them and occasionally thinning their ranks. The vineyards afforded
them a scant shelter from the fire of the enemy; but when the final
order was given to advance, our men were thrown into some confusion,
owing to the broken ground, overgrown with the tendrils of the vines, on
which they had to form. Codrington’s brigade was the first to advance,
carrying with them the 19th Regiment, who were only too glad to place
themselves under the guidance of such an impetuous leader. The Russians
poured on them the fire of all their batteries, and many fell before they
could find cover beneath the steep bank on the opposite side. There they
halted to reform, and at this moment three Russian regiments advanced,
and poured down a vertical fire upon them from the summit of the bank. A
leader less resolute than Codrington might have given orders to retreat;
but it was his first battle, and the gallant guardsman was bent on
winning his spurs. He rode his small Arab charger round to a spot where
the bank was less precipitous, and with some difficulty contrived to
reach the summit. It was unfortunate that, instead of the plumed hat of a
general, he wore an officer’s foraging cap, and, being recently appointed
to the command of the brigade, few of his men recognised him. Still,
the sight of an officer forcing his way almost alone up the heights was
enough to inspire his men with the desire of following, and Colonel Yea,
of the 7th Fusiliers, rode his cob up the steep bank, encouraging the
soldiers, by his voice and example, to come on.
It was impossible for the regiments to form on the broken ground which
they occupied, but the whole of Codrington’s Light Division cleared the
bank, carrying with them the 19th and 95th Regiments, who were only too
eager for the fray. These brave fellows were the first to begin the
battle of the Alma. If the Russians had had the courage to charge them
as they appeared on the summit of the bank, broken and breathless, they
might have rolled them back into the river below; and the fate of battles
often depends on a first success. A column of the enemy descended the
hill with this intention, and advanced towards the ground occupied by the
19th Regiment and some of the left companies of the 23rd, who opened such
a smart fire upon them that they retreated, and found shelter in a hollow
near the Great Redoubt. Having thus got quit of their assailants, they
joined their comrades, who were pressing on towards the Great Redoubt in
broken columns and much disorder. As yet the Russian battery was silent,
but when our men had reached some three hundred yards from it, first one
gun and then another began to fire upon them with round shot, grape, and
canister. They were crowded so closely together that every round shot
which pierced their ranks cut its way through, leaving a long furrow of
dead behind. But the open space thus left was at once filled up, and our
men pressed forward as gallantly as before in the direction of the Great
Redoubt. The slaughter was fearful, and none suffered more than the 23rd,
who had twelve of their officers and half of their rank and file smitten
down before they reached the guns which were dealing death amongst them.
Their gallant leader with the foraging cap and the eye-glass was still
in front, and wherever he went they were prepared to follow. A sort of
half-cry rose from their lips as his horse fell and a cloud of dust
concealed him for a moment from their view; but it was only for a moment.
Mounting his horse, he turned gaily to his followers, and said, “I am all
right, lads. Twenty-third, be sure I’ll remember this day.”
It was such a day as can never fade from the memory of those who took
part in it; but the Welsh Fusiliers have special reason to remember it.
Their ranks were thinned, but they still pressed forward, and followed
their gallant leader as he leaped his horse into the midst of the enemy’s
works to show his men there was no danger. The Russians were seized with
a sort of panic; the artillerymen began to limber up their guns and to
fall back upon their reserves, which were posted in the rear. A sort of
cry of disappointment rose from our men at the thought that there was no
more fighting to be done—“The Russians are retreating; they are limbering
up. Stole away! stole away!”
But the fighting was not over; there was still bloody work to be done on
the heights of the Alma. The enemy’s artillery continued their fire as
they retreated, and many of our men were struck down as they approached
the empty embrasures. The first to mount them was young Anstruther,
who carried the colours of the Royal Welsh. Though an officer of that
regiment, he was a Scotchman by birth, and his conduct that day will
invest a name already distinguished in the annals of the North with
a halo of glory. He was a mere boy, fresh from school, but he was
determined to do some deathless deed on this the morning of his first
battle. Leaping and running are favourite pastimes in Fife, as in every
Scottish county, and none could run better than the light, boyish figure
that held aloft the colours of the Royal Welsh, and pressed forward
before all the others. He was the first who gained the redoubt, and,
planting the butt-end of the colours in the centre of the parapet, he
stood for a moment clutching it in his arms, breathless and silent, as
if surprised at his own audacity. There were hundreds of hearts beating
high with admiration as they saw the slim figure of the Scottish youth
on the summit of the parapet. Alas! it was seen there only for a moment.
A bullet passed through his body, and he fell, dragging with him the
flag-staff, as if he would not part with it even in death. The crimson
folds of the colours, which covered his body like a pall, were stained
with a deeper dye as his heart’s blood ebbed away. The soul of the young
hero was gone. But it was no time for tears; the colours were in danger,
and the colours must be saved. Butler, the other colour-officer, was
slain; but William Evans, a swift-footed Welshman, mounted the parapet,
drew the flag-staff gently from the hands of the dying boy, and held it
aloft, to show that the Royal Welsh were the first to mount the Great
Redoubt. He then, in accordance with military etiquette, handed the
colours to Corporal Luby, his superior officer, who, in turn, delivered
them up to Sergeant Luke O’Connor, with whom they remained during the
rest of the day. No wonder that young Anstruther fell: no less than
seventy-five bullets passed through the colours, and the pole of one of
them was shot in two, and had to be spliced with a cord.
It was on this occasion that Colonel E. W. D. Bell, of the 2nd Battalion
of the Royal Welsh, gained the Victoria Cross. This decoration, so
coveted and prized, was devised by her whose name it bears in 1856,
and was intended to be a reward of valour for all who distinguished
themselves, whatever their rank might be. Its value is enhanced by the
fact that Victoria confers this Cross with her own hand whenever this is
practicable—an honour which cannot fail to be appreciated by the happy
recipient. Our readers have a good idea of its form from the initial
letter to our first chapter, but a brief description may not be out of
place. It is a Maltese cross of bronze, with the royal crest in the
centre, beneath which is an escroll bearing the words, “For Valour;” the
date of the act of bravery is inscribed on the centre of the reverse,
and the name and corps of the recipient are engraved on the bar to which
the ribbon is attached. A sprig of laurel is embossed on this bar, which
is attached to the cross by the letter V suspended on a red ribbon or a
blue one, as he who gains it happens to be a soldier or a sailor. This
decoration, however, is not confined to the army and the navy; civilians
who have distinguished themselves by their bravery have as good a claim
to it as those who belong to the profession of arms, and several of
this class nobly earned it during the Indian Mutiny. Every private or
non-commissioned officer thus decorated is entitled to a pension of
10_l._ a year; every fresh act of bravery equal to the first procures for
him an additional bar and a further pension of 5_l._ There is no danger,
therefore, of the wearers of the Victoria Cross being tempted to rest on
their laurels; they have an intelligible motive for striving to increase
them. Their names are published in the _London Gazette_, along with the
record of the deeds of bravery by which they earned the distinction.
“A king may make a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a’ that,”
but distinguished bravery alone can make a Victoria Cross man. A marquis
or a duke may have attained his rank by means that would not bear too
close inspection, but the Victoria Cross invites your inspection; its
wearer must always be _sans peur_, if not _sans reproche_.
[Illustration: Captain Bell, Royal Welsh Fusiliers, capturing a Russian
Gun at the Battle of the Alma.]
No one will grudge Colonel Bell the distinction which he earned at the
Great Redoubt on the heights of the Alma. He was charging at the head of
his company at the moment when the Russians were retreating with those
guns which had dealt such havoc among our men. All had been drawn away
by the artillery horses except a brass 24-pound howitzer, which still
remained in position, and gave rise to a singular contest among our
soldiery. Each was anxious to claim it as his own, so as to point to it
afterwards as a proof of his prowess, and an officer of the 33rd, named
Donovan, is said to have been the first who scratched his name upon it.
Bell, however, took no part in this contest; his thoughts were elsewhere.
Farther on, in the rear of the redoubt, he saw a Russian driver urging
on with whip and spur three horses which were dragging a brass 16-pounder
gun; in a moment he was alongside the driver, and held a revolver to
his head. The latter understood the significance of such an act, and,
slipping from his horse, took to his heels. Bell seized the bridle of one
of the horses, and, aided by a soldier of the 7th Fusiliers, named Pyle,
led them round the shoulder of the parapet to the rear of our line, where
he met Sir George Brown, the general in command of the Light Division.
Now, it is the duty of a captain to be at the head of his company, and
the general is said to have reminded him of this fact in language of
considerable emphasis. There was no help for it; Bell had to relinquish
his prize, and to return to his company, but the gun was safe; the
horses drew it down the hill, where it remained till after the battle.
The gun is now to be seen at Woolwich, and the horses were put into our
“Black Battery.” At the close of the war, Captain Bell’s heroism was not
forgotten; he was decorated with the Victoria Cross, and is now a colonel.
We have already alluded to Lieutenant Anstruther’s heroic death, after
he had planted the flag-staff of the Royal Welsh on the summit of the
parapet. When he fell, the Queen’s colour was picked up by a private, who
gave it to Corporal Luby; it was afterwards carried till the end of the
battle by Sergeant Luke O’Connor. The gallant sergeant was shot in the
breach, and fell at the same time as young Anstruther; but his wound was
not mortal; he soon recovered himself, and refused to go to the rear,
though urged to do so by Lieutenant Granville. He received the highest
praise from Major-General Codrington on the field, and was rewarded with
a commission in his own gallant regiment, in which he now holds the rank
of captain. He was also present at the assault on the Redan, on the 8th
of September, 1855, where he behaved with great gallantry, and was shot
through both thighs. At the close of the war he received the Victoria
Cross and the Sardinian war medal. The latter decoration was also
bestowed upon Corporal Luby, who was instrumental in saving the Queen’s
colour at the battle of the Alma.
The British casualties in this battle were 25 officers killed, and 81
wounded; 337 non-commissioned officers and men were killed, 1550 wounded,
and 19 missing. No regiment suffered more than the Royal Welsh Fusiliers.
Eight of their officers were killed, and 5 wounded (one of them
mortally); 3 sergeants and 40 rank and file were killed, or died of their
wounds; 9 sergeants and 143 rank and file were wounded; 2 were missing.
The slaughter among the senior officers was so great that the command of
the regiment devolved on Captain Bell, who brought it out of action. The
regimental colour was carried by Sergeant Honey Smith after Lieutenant
Butler fell; it was intrusted to him by Major-General Codrington, as
no officer could be spared from his company. In a letter written from
the seat of war, Corporal Harwood gave a graphic description of the
circumstances under which the Royal Welsh were so fearfully cut up:—“The
23rd was in the Light Division, and on we went, covered by two companies
of the Rifle Brigade. We crossed a vineyard, and were led by Colonel
Chester through the river, the opposite bank of which was very steep. The
colonel went through with us—we all shared alike—and, as we clambered
out, the enemy gave us a fierce fire, the cannons belching forth
murderous volleys of grape and round shot, and musket-balls fell as thick
as hail. The men fell dead and wounded before me and at my side. They
fell in every direction, and mechanically I still pressed on, untouched.
Up the hill we went with the Rifle Brigade, and half-way up the heights
we reached the cannons’ mouths which were planted on the embankments. Our
regiment was about to cross the stockade in the enemy’s position, when
the word was given, ‘Cease firing, and retire!’ because we were in danger
of firing on the French. Our colonel rushed in front of us, shouting,
‘No, no; on, lads!’ He fell with the word on his lips; he never spoke or
raised his head again. We _did_ retire then, and an unfortunate mistake
it was; for the enemy returned to the guns we had once silenced, and gave
us some terrific volleys; but we soon rallied, and, supported by the 7th,
33rd, a portion of the Guards, and the Highlanders, we rushed up the hill
again, and the enemy fled in every direction.” This and other letters
written by our soldiers during the Crimean War took the nation by
surprise; they proved that there were men, unknown to fame, in the ranks
of the British Army who could use the pen or the sword with equal skill.
There are certain acts of courage which compel our admiration without
obtaining the unqualified approval of our cooler judgment. Colonel Bell’s
daring in capturing the Russian gun must be placed in this category.
No one will question his courage, or dispute his right to the Cross of
Valour; no one will wish his deed undone, or desire that he had acted
otherwise. And yet it must be admitted that in leaving his own men he
was guilty of a breach of discipline which is more worthy of admiration
than imitation. It was his duty to have remained with his company;
and if every officer were to yield in battle to the same impulsive
bravery, all discipline would be at end and the results would be most
disastrous. The first duty of all soldiers is implicit obedience to the
commands of superior authority; to this rule there is no exception, save
in the case of officers of high rank, who on the field of battle must
always be guided partly by circumstances in executing the orders they
have received. We are not, therefore, to condemn Sir George Brown for
expressing his emphatic disapproval of Captain Bell’s conduct in leaving
his company to seize the Russian gun. Sir George, doubtless, admired his
courage, but he must have felt that courage ought in every case to be
subordinate to discipline. Such was the opinion of Sir Colin Campbell
at the storming of the Secunder Bagh at Lucknow. We shall describe in a
future chapter the fearful scene of carnage which took place there in
consequence of the massacre at Cawnpore. The tumult was at its height
when a Highland officer rushed up to the spot where Sir Colin, mounted
on his grey horse, stood in the centre of his staff. The Highlander was
wild with excitement, and bore on his person traces of the bloody work
in which he had taken part. One word of praise from those stern lips
was the richest reward his heart could covet. Extending the red banner
which he held in his hand towards the general, he joyfully exclaimed, “I
have killed the last four of the enemy with my own hand, and here, sir,
are their colours.” A Highlander himself, Sir Colin could appreciate
the impetuous courage of his countryman, but his duty as a general
was imperative; he could not applaud an act which was a violation of
discipline. “Confound the colours, sir! where’s your regiment? Go back
to your regiment, sir! I thank you for your zeal and gallantry, but go
back to your regiment.” The excited and impulsive Highlander obeyed
this command, and, doubtless, felt at the moment that the reproof,
though grave, was not unmerited. Such also must have been the feelings
of Captain Bell when he received the stern command to return to his
company and relinquish the Russian gun. If that gun had not remained
in our possession after the battle, we doubt whether Colonel Bell’s
undisciplined valour would have met with the same recognition from his
grateful country. Success may sometimes justify such a step, but we
repeat that such deeds of impulsive bravery are more to be admired than
imitated. It must be borne in mind, however, that Colonel Bell received
the Victoria Cross, not only for capturing the Russian gun at the Alma,
but also for bringing the regiment out of action when his superior
officers had fallen, and exhibiting the same daring spirit on many
subsequent occasions. It is a pleasure to see his manly figure among the
other heroes in the Victoria Cross Gallery, and we hope he will long
continue to wear the badge of distinction which his sovereign conferred
upon him.
[Illustration]
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