Sir Ian Hamilton's Despatches from the Dardanelles, etc.

General Sir Ian Hamilton.

What's brave, what's noble, let's do it.
I was serving in the Royal Navy when Lieutenant Lucas, H.M.S. Hecla , earned the first Victoria Cross that was gazetted, for having thrown overboard a live shell. I was in the 21-gun battery before Sevastopol sixty-one years ago when Captain Sir William Peel, R.N., picked up from amongst a number of powder cases, and carried resting on his chest, a 42-pounder live Russian shell, which burst as he threw it over the parapet; and having seen many extraordinarily gallant deeds performed by men of all ranks in both Services, I think that I am a fair judge of fighting values.
Just sixty-one years ago an Ordinary Seaman, H.M.S. Queen , was one of a detachment of a Petty Officer and six Bluejackets who had left our advanced trenches carrying a heavy scaling ladder, 18 feet long, to enable the soldiers to cross the ditch of the Great Redan at Sevastopol. When the only surviving ladder-party was close up to the abatis, three of the men under the Rear part of the ladder were shot down, and a young midshipman then put his shoulder under it. The boy was young, had already been wounded, and was moreover weak, being officially on the sick list, so doubtless was an inefficient carrier. The Bluejacket in front was unaffected by the storm of missiles of all sorts through which he had passed in crossing the 500 yards between our trenches and the Redan, although in his company of sixty men, nineteen sailors had been killed and twenty-nine wounded within twenty minutes.
The fire was vividly described by Field-Marshal Lord Raglan, who was looking on. He, with the experience of the Peninsular War, and having witnessed the assaults of Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajos, thus portrayed it: I never before witnessed such a continuous and heavy fire of grape and musketry ; and again: I had no conception of such a shower of grape. The Bluejacket had remained apparently unconcerned by the carnage, but he realised that the now one-surviving carrier at the Rear end of the ladder was not doing much to help, and thinking that he was addressing a messmate, exclaimed encouragingly, as he half turned his head: Come on, Bill, let's get our ladder up first, being shot dead as he finished the sentence.