The tale of those eleven months, from October 1854 to September 1855, is one of sorties, of sapping and mining, of desperate deeds done in the trenches in the dead of night, of the gradual reducing of the Sebastopol outworks. Great things were done by our men at the attacks on the Mamelon Tower and the Redan, and by the French at the storming of the Malakoff, the capture of the last-named giving the command of the fortress. On the night that the Malakoff fell the Russians evacuated the town, and Sebastopol was taken possession of by the Allies.
By the Peace of Paris, which was concluded on March 30th, 1856, the war came to an end, and our army, sadly reduced in numbers by cholera and other diseases, more than by the enemy’s shells and bullets, returned home.
In giving an outline of the Crimean campaign mention must not be omitted of the British fleet sent into the Baltic at an early stage in the hostilities. This fleet was unsuccessful in doing much damage to the Russian ships which sought refuge behind the strong fortresses of Cronstadt and Sveaborg, but it stormed and took Bomarsund and the Äland Islands. In the following year (1855) it renewed the attack, and after a determined bombardment succeeded in partially destroying Sveaborg.
It was in this naval campaign, and in the operations in the Black Sea and Sea of Azov, that our Bluejackets and Marines did such signal service, and that several of them won the right to put V.C. after their names.
Five of the Crosses won at the battle of the Alma were gained in defence of the colours.
In the advance on the Russian batteries which were posted on the heights, the 23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers formed one of the regiments on the left wing, the French attacking on the right. It was a perilous climb up the precipitous rocky slopes, and particularly so for a marked man like he who bore the colours. Young Lieutenant Anstruther, a mere lad of eighteen, who proudly carried the Queen’s colours, learnt this to his cost, for when he was within a few yards of the nearest Russian earthwork a bullet through the heart laid him low.
In a moment a private had caught up the silken banner now sadly stained with blood, but Sergeant Luke O’Connor, a young Irishman of twenty-four, who had followed close on poor Anstruther’s heels and had been himself struck down, regained his feet although badly wounded in the breast, and claimed the flag. “Come on, 23rd!” he shouted. “Follow me!”
It was in vain that the gallant sergeant was ordered to the rear to have his wound attended to; he refused to abandon the colours, and right through that fierce fight he accompanied the Fusiliers, bearing a charmed life, as was made evident later. When the flag was inspected at the close of the action it was found to be riddled with bullet holes, having been hit in at least twenty-six places.
O’Connor received a commission for his bravery on this occasion in addition to the Cross for Valour, but he did not exchange from the regiment. Loyal to the corps he loved, he remained in it, and in time rose to command it.
On the same day another Welsh Fusilier, Captain Bell, distinguished himself by capturing a Russian gun which was limbered up and being dragged from the redoubt. Leaving his company and dashing after it alone, he pointed his revolver at the head of the driver, who incontinently dismounted and bolted.