The Battle of Inkerman.
1854.
By the first week of November enormous numbers of reinforcements
reached the Russian army in the Crimea, so that not only were some
120,000 troops under Prince Mentschikoff’s command, but a corresponding
enthusiasm was awakened amongst all Russian ranks by this large
addition to their numbers. Such warlike enthusiasm received a great
impetus at this time by the arrival in camp of two young Grand Dukes,
Michael and Nicholas, sons of the Czar.
The allied troops, on the other hand, had by this time an effective
strength of some 65,000 men, and with an extended line of nearly 20
miles to guard it was apparent to all that a severe struggle for
supremacy would shortly take place.
As is so often the case in war, those upon the spot, Lord Raglan and
General Camobert, though fully aware of a large accession to the
enemy’s strength, were not so well posted as to its precise extent as
were their fellow-countrymen in France and England. In both countries
intense anxiety prevailed as to the outcome of the next engagement of
the war.
They were not long kept in suspense. The Russian plan of attack
comprised a general advance, partly a feint, upon the allied right,
simultaneous with a sortie from the city of Sebastopol. Sunday, the 5th
November, was the day fixed upon.
On the eve of the battle--the night of the 4th November--and again
as early as four o’clock on the morning of the 5th, the bells of
Sebastopol were heard ringing, and it was afterwards ascertained that
the Russian Church was bestowing her blessing upon the soldiers of the
Czar. Moreover, the clangour of the great bells to some extent covered
the sound of the footsteps of the advancing hordes as they crept
forward to the attack some hours before sunrise.
The attack was admirably planned. The extreme southernmost portion of
the Russian army, under Prince Gortschakoff, was to feint an attack
against the Guards and the French under Bosquet, thereby hindering
them from marching to the assistance of our 2nd Division under General
Pennefather, in whose charge lay the district of Mount Inkerman. Mount
Inkerman itself, the real objective of the enemy, was to be assailed by
40,000 men under General Dannenburg. To the north again, the Sebastopol
garrison was to effect a further diversion, engaging the allied left.
Upon the 2nd Division then was to fall the brunt of the fight, for
the possession of the high ground of Mount Inkerman would enable the
Russians to overlook their besieging enemy, hamper their operations,
and, in all probability, compel them to abandon the siege.
On the afternoon of the 4th, General Pennefather, who commanded the
2nd Division, in the absence through illness of Sir de Lacy Evans,
going his rounds as usual, observed a somewhat increased activity on
the part of the enemy, but not of such a nature as to warrant other
than ordinary vigilance. Towards evening a thick mist and heavy
drizzle set in, and the outlying pickets on Mount Inkerman strained
their eyes through the mist and darkness for a possible glimpse of the
enemy. Captain Sargent, indeed, of the 95th, regarded the night as
being specially favourable to an attack by the enemy, and increased
the vigilance of the picket under his command, reloading some of the
wetted rifles with his own hands. Towards four o’clock there rang
out the pealing of the Sebastopol bells aforementioned, and several
men reported that they distinctly heard the rumbling of waggon or
gun-carriage wheels during the early hours of the morning.
With all these premonitions, however, the attack came suddenly, so
favoured were the enemy by mist and darkness.
Shortly after the changing of the pickets, and just as day was
breaking, a sentry of the outermost picket on Mount Inkerman stood
straining his eyes to pierce the mist that lay around him dim and
silent. Suddenly it seemed to him a part of it towards the Shell Hill
became darker than the rest, and then slowly began to move towards him.
The sentry rubbed his eyes, thinking he must be dreaming, but sure
enough the dark patch moved slowly up towards him out of the ravine,
making never a sound, so thick and deadening lay the mist. Instantly he
dashed off to his officer in command, Captain Rowlands, and reported
his suspicions, and together in the now rapidly-clearing mist they
beheld the approach of not one, but two Russian battalions in array
of battle. Bang! rang out the picket’s fire, and firing obstinately,
disputing every inch of the ground, it fell back before the now
rapidly-advancing foe. The Inkerman engagement had begun.
Quickly the sound of firing roused the camp, and a battery was at once
established on a shoulder known as Home Ridge, to check the enemy’s
advance by firing more or less at random into the mist. Shortly
afterwards, Lord Raglan and General Camobert appeared on the scene and
placed an increased battery at General Pennefather’s disposal.
By intermittent firing, stubborn resistance, and occasionally a bayonet
charge, the advancing Russian columns were thrown back behind their
guns, which were by this time posted on Shell Hill.
The respite was not for long. A force of more than 10,000 Russians
under General Sornionoff in person next swarmed up in front of
Pennefather’s devoted troops now slightly augmented by General Adams
and the 41st regiment. Again and again did overwhelming masses of
Russians pit themselves, with hoarse cries, against numerically
insignificant bodies of our troops. Reports have it that the Russian
soldiers had been sent into battle inflamed by large quantities of raw
spirit, and certainly the extraordinary violence and pertinacity of
their attack tends to support this belief. Be this as it may, their
most determined onslaughts proved unavailing. With sword, bayonet, and,
where the brushwood was too thick to admit of hand-to-hand fighting,
with rifle ball, did our brave fellows drive them back, and many a
Victoria Cross was won in the detached, but none the less effective
fighting of this the first stage of the long Inkerman fight.
Here was Townsend’s battery lost and recaptured. Here Lieutenant Hugh
Clifford won his cross “for valour,” leading some seventy men right
into the heart of a column which threatened to turn his flank. Here
Nicholson and many another gallant officer was killed; whilst, in this
part of the field, Colonel Egerton, with some 260 men, totally routed
and relentlessly pursued 1500 of the famous Tomsk regiment.
Kinglake tells the story briefly:--“‘There are the Russians, General,’
said Egerton to General Buller, as the great grey mass loomed before
them in the mist; ‘what shall we do?’ ‘Charge them!’ retorted Buller
tersely. And charge them he did with a will, hurling them down the
hillside with loud hurrahs, and following their confused and broken
ranks with sword and bayonet.”
Thus again were the Russians beaten back from the slopes of Inkerman,
and in the melee General Sornionoff himself was killed.
The next attack came from another quarter, but still the brunt of the
fighting fell on Pennefather’s troops.
Meanwhile, in other parts of the field, the Russians had carried out
their admirable and well-laid plan of attack. Gortschakoff’s forces had
threatened Bosquet and the Guards who were opposing him. The Duke of
Cambridge, however, who commanded in that part of the field, was not
long deceived by the feints of the enemy. Leaving only the Coldstreams
to face Gortschakoff (and withdrawing even these before long), he
hurried the Grenadiers and Scots Fusiliers to Pennefather’s assistance.
Bosquet also perceived Inkerman to be the real point of attack, and
while still facing Gortschakoff with his troops, held them in readiness
to march thither should the need arise, as it very soon did.
Sir Colin Campbell’s forces, however, were detained near Balaclava in
a state of inaction, to protect that important port; as it happened an
unnecessary, but very wise, provision.
Says one of the garrison under Sir Colin:--“We remained in the trenches
under arms for three or four hours. The whole Balaclava force was
under arms in the same manner, while Sir Colin was riding along the
line of trenches and keeping an eye on the enemy in front, which (sic)
appeared to be threatening an attack on us. We heard a heavy musketry
fire from the front, and it was well on in the day before it slackened,
and the enemy were seen to move backwards, out of sight--all but their
sentries. We remained the same, however, not knowing what was up.”
On the Sebastopol front, on the other hand, nothing of importance
happened till, between nine and ten o’clock, a resolute sortie under
General Timovieff took place, and the attention of Prince Napoleon was
so occupied with this attack, which at one time met with some measure
of success, that his troops were unable to reach Mount Inkerman in time
to take part in the main fight.
Thus it will be seen that in this part of the field the enemy attained
his object and made a successful division. All other troops available
were despatched with speed to the scene of the main action on Inkerman.
Of Mount Inkerman itself it may be said that it is in the shape of
a long narrow triangle, with base towards the Russians and joined
towards the Chersonese by its apex to the high ground of the British
camps--this narrow neck being known as the Isthmus. Shell Hill forms
its highest point, whilst on either hand, but nearer the allied camp,
are lesser heights or shoulders called respectively Home Ridge and
English Heights, and lying north and south of the central peak of Shell
Hill, and separated from it by a ravine. A lower ridge between these
two was called the Fore Ridge, upon which at either end were the slight
defences of the Barrier and Sandbag Battery, both destined ere long to
become famous--“the scene of one of the bloodiest combats in history.”
For now once more the Russians swarmed up in front of our already
hard-pressed outposts, the clearer atmosphere revealing their true and
overwhelming numbers.
By this time the Grenadiers and Scots Fusiliers, under the Duke of
Cambridge, were rapidly approaching. And now began that terrific
struggle over the Sandbag Battery which resulted in that comparatively
worthless entrenchment, situated as it was some yards in advance of
the British position, being taken and retaken many times with awful
slaughter on both sides.
Pennefather’s brave fellows, General Adams and his brigade, the Guards,
and some of the French infantry waged in turn a fierce war round the
comparatively worthless position, and soon its shallow trench was
heaped with dead and dying. Time and again the Russians would sweep
into the battery, with murder in their eyes and brain, and bayonet any
hapless wounded left behind perforce by our outnumbered men. A few
brief moments would elapse, our gallant fellows would re-form, and,
tooth and nail, with cold steel and even fist to face they would drive
out the invader and hunt the Russians down the slope, thence only to
return with dogged pertinacity again and again to the assault.
The 56th Westmoreland, the 41st Welsh, the 49th Herefordshire, the 20th
and 95th, the Grenadiers, Scots Fusiliers and Grenadiers again--each
in turn occupied for varying intervals of time the worthless battery,
and then were either forced by weight of numbers to retire or else
abandoned the battery themselves, having discovered its incapacity for
shelter. Seven times in all was the battery captured by the Russians,
and seven times retaken by our men.
Says the great historian of the war:--“The parapet of the Sandbag
Battery--it stands to this day--(1869) is a monument of heroic devotion
and soldierly prowess, yet showing, as preachers might say, the vanity
of human desires. Supposed, although wrongly, to be a part of the
British defences, and fought for, accordingly, with infinite passion
and at a great cost of life by numbers and numbers of valiant infantry,
the work was no sooner taken than its worthlessness became evident,
not indeed to the bulk of the soldiery, but to those particular troops
which chanced to be posted within it.”
And so the mistaken fight raged on, and heavy indeed were the losses
around the fateful battery. The dead lay around in heaps.
Here General Adams died, his ankle shattered by a Russian bullet, and
General Torrens was here so grievously wounded that he died later. As
he lay upon the ground, General Sir George Cathcart rode down to him,
crying, “Well and gallantly done, Torrens!” only to fall himself within
the hour, a bullet through his heart.
Many are the gallant deeds and hairbreadth escapes recounted from this
quarter of the field. The Duke of Cambridge only escaped being cut off
by the Russians through dint of hard riding, a horse being killed under
him and a bullet grazing his arm. Here Burnaby and his brave little
party were some moments surrounded on every side, and only rescued
by the French 7th battalion of the line; and here and there “General
Pennefather’s favourite oaths could be heard roaring cheerily down
through the smoke” as he galloped from point to point, encouraging
his men wherever the stress was greatest. It was at this time a horse
was killed under him, throwing him to the ground in its fall, and men
smiled amid the slaughter as they heard the old General “damning” the
Russian gunners with all the fervour of his years!
On both sides reinforcements were hurried up continually, and regiment
after regiment distinguished itself. “Men! remember Albuera!” rang out
the voice of young Captain Stanley of the 57th, as a bullet tore its
way into his heart, and his devoted company sprang forward over his
body, upholding to the last the splendid tradition of the “Die Hards.”
At length, about 8.30, the vast hordes of General Dannenburg were
pressed back, and something of a lull occurred. The British still held
their ground, but with a frightful loss of nearly 1500 men.
From this time forward the Russian attack was mainly directed at the
Home Ridge, and for a while it prospered. In this part of the field the
allied forces consisted of some 2000 British, with a regiment of French
and a small body of Zouaves, who had joined the Inkerman fight without
orders, and for pure love of fighting. Most opportune was the moment of
the arrival of this little body of troops, for without hesitation they
hurled themselves at a Russian force which in the first brief moments
of the onslaught had captured three British guns in advance of the
position, and triumphantly restored them to their owners. Kinglake has
declared his belief that they were led by Sir George Brown in person,
who had discovered them wandering leaderless in a remote portion of the
field.
Meanwhile the main body of the Russians advanced, covered by the heavy
fire of their artillery on Shell Hill. So heavy indeed was this fire
that Lord Raglan and the headquarters staff were in serious danger by
reason of it. As Lord Raglan was directing the movements of the troops
from the rear of the British lines, a round shot tore the leg off
General Strangeways, with whom he was conversing. Without a cry the old
man begged to be assisted from his horse, for he did not lose his grip
of the saddle, and was led tenderly to the back of the fight, where he
died--a veteran soldier of Wellington’s. At the same instant a shell
burst, blowing the horses of two more staff officers to pieces, and
splashing the headquarters staff with blood.
Lord Raglan had been too often under fire to be in any way perturbed
by these events, and never for an instant did he relax his grip upon
the battle. It was well indeed that he did not, for the Russians were
making headway, and at this critical juncture, the 7th Léger, a young
French battalion, showed signs of weakening. The French officers,
however, never lacking in bravery, beat their men back into line, and,
mingled with the remnant of the 56th, literally shoulder to shoulder,
the French and British faced, and ere long worsted, the foe.
Back and forwards raged the fight at the Barrier. Now the Russians were
in retreat; now for want of fresh troops to press the victory home the
pursuit weakened, and they rallied and returned; now they were driving
our men back, and all the while their artillery from Shell Hill poured
down a pitiless rain of lead upon our wearied troops, and sometimes
even on their own front ranks, so close and intermingled was the
fighting at this point.
Lord Raglan, ever upon the alert, beheld the weakening of our tired-out
forces, and sent a staff officer post haste to Bosquet, bidding him at
once bring up supports in force. Meanwhile, as at the Alma, here Raglan
changed the whole aspect of the fight by the sudden bringing into
action of two guns.
“Bring up two 18-pounders!” came the order, and with crack of whip
and mingled oaths and cheers, two of these, our most powerful pieces
of ordnance, under the command of Colonel Collingwood Dickson, were
placed in position on the ridge, and soon the thunderous fire of nearly
a hundred of the enemy’s cannon became intermittently punctuated with
the deep roar of the 18-pounders. Shot after shot from these massive
guns tore whistling across the intervening valley and ploughed their
deadly way through flesh and blood, here wiping out a group of Russian
gunners, here dismounting a gun, there blowing up an ammunition waggon,
till in a brief half-hour the formidable artillery on Shell Hill began
to slacken fire.
Many a British gunner was killed in this artillery duel, for the
Russian fire was of course drawn against their new assailants, but
eager volunteers pressed forward, and the guns were well and nobly
served. So good in fact was their practice, and so great the havoc
they wrought amongst the Russians, that Colonel Dickson’s battery was
specially mentioned in the official records of the battle “for its
distinguished and splendid service.”
After the distress put upon the Russians by the “18-pounder”
battery--one shot of which narrowly missed Prince Mentschikoff and
the two young Grand Dukes, who were watching the fight from the rear
of the Russian position--the end was not long in coming. Led by their
“vivandière, gaily moving in her pretty costume, fit alike for dance or
battle,” the Zouaves made a dash forward, and hurled themselves upon
the enemy with the bayonet. At this moment a number of the Coldstreams
joined the Zouaves, and together rushed into the fray. The luckless
Russians turned to flee, but soon found themselves hemmed in by the
dead-strewn parapet of the Sandbag Battery. The victorious French and
British drove them back as sheep are driven to a pen, and slaughtered
all they could lay hands on. The Zouave standard was planted above the
embrasure, heaped about with bodies.
From now onwards the war was carried into the enemy’s lines. Finding
the Russian artillery fire dwindling, our troops at the Barrier pressed
forward. Step by step, in little knots and companies, our men pressed
up the hill, and many a gallant deed was done in this the final stage.
Lieutenant Acton of the 77th rushed forward for some few moments with
only one private soldier of his company, to the capture of a Russian
battery. An instant later, the whole body followed their brave and
impetuous leader, and pressing up the hill reached the battery only in
time to see the last gun limbered up.
Here a knot of British would fling themselves upon a company of
Russians with the bayonet, and heavy slaughter on both sides would
result, but ever upward and forward pressed the victorious advance,
the men faint with hunger but vigorous in pursuit, while the French
engaged the Russian forces in the flank. Suddenly it was observed
that the Russian batteries were being withdrawn in haste, and General
Codrington, watching the fight from the far side of Careenage Ravine,
glanced at his watch and found the time to be a quarter to one.
By one o’clock, in fact, the battle was practically over, for there was
no pursuit worth mentioning, General Camobert, himself wounded in the
arm, declining to throw French troops too far forward unsupported--an
omission which he afterwards deeply regretted. Prince Mentschikoff was
furious when he beheld the soldiers of the Czar in full retreat, and
angrily asked General Dannenburg by whose orders the retreat was taking
place. The General’s answer was short and sharp--retreat was necessary
to avert disaster! Long and bravely had the Russian soldiers fought,
but more than that they could not do.
By three o’clock Mount Inkerman was freed from Russian troops, and Lord
Raglan and General Camobert rode side by side over the bloodstained
field, strewn with the dead and dying of three nations; and Kinglake
tells how the British commander-in-chief himself held up, with his one
hand, the head of a wounded Russian soldier, parched with thirst, and
begged water from his staff for the unhappy foeman. But there was no
water on Mount Inkerman, and the poor wretch had to endure for many
hours ere succour came.
Nearly 11,000 Russians lay dead upon the slopes of Inkerman--256
officers being amongst the killed; 2357 British were put out of
action--597 being killed, 39 of the number being officers. Indeed, the
ten British Generals on the field were either killed, wounded, or had
their horses shot under them in action--Lord Raglan alone escaping
unscathed. Days were spent in burying the dead.