It was highly dangerous work from first to last. Every few minutes shells and fire-balls from the Russian guns, which kept up a constant cannonade throughout the night, would fall in their midst, and unless these were promptly extinguished the havoc wrought was considerable. But through it all they plied their spades bravely and set their earth-filled gabions in position, Ross himself doing the greater part of this latter hazardous work.

His third notable exploit bears date September 8th, of the same year, 1855. The last assault on the Redan by the allied troops had been made, but with what results was not known. Ominous loud explosions startled the still night air every now and then, and the British and French troops held back uncertainly, waiting for the enemy’s next move.

The cessation of the Russian cannonade and musketry fire, however, led many to think that the greycoats had abandoned their position, even if only temporarily. Among those of this way of thinking was Corporal Ross. Leaving the trench of the 5th Parallel, where he was working, he set off alone across the intervening ground to see if his suspicions were correct. It was ticklish work, he knew, for the flashes of the explosions in the huge fortress lit up the plain vividly, and his figure showed up an easy mark for any Russian sharpshooter who remained on the watch. But he kept on until he reached the abattis, when clambering up to the nearest embrasure he wormed his way in.

The place was empty. Only a dismantled gun and the débris caused by a well-aimed shell greeted his eyes. Having made certain that he had not been deceived, Ross hastened back to the lines to spread the news. A party was at once formed to make another inspection of the Redan, Ross accompanying it and leading the way into the fortress, which was found absolutely deserted.

The Redan was forthwith occupied by our men, but the siege was now practically over. The Russians had retired to the north side of the harbour, evacuating the town.

So much for the “Royal Sappers and Miners”; we shall meet them later in a warmer clime, in India, doing their duty as faithfully and performing deeds every whit as heroic as any they did in the bleak wastes of the Crimea.

The heroes of the trenches and rifle-pits appeal especially to the imagination. The long vigil of the sentries as they paced to and fro while their comrades slept or worked in the trench at their back was an ordeal well calculated to try the nerves of even seasoned soldiers. A goodly proportion of the guardsmen, riflemen, and others who were detailed for this hazardous work were under fire in this campaign for the first time in their lives, but we never read that they flinched from the task imposed upon them.

However worn and weary the sentry might be, after a long day of digging and hauling sandbags, he knew he had to exert the utmost vigilance while on guard. Under cover of the darkness it was a favourite pastime with the Russians to make sorties in little parties of three and four from the fortress, in the hope of surprising the harassed sappers as they took a brief and well-earned rest.

So came three Russians one bitterly cold December night in 1854 to a small outlying picket of the 7th Royal Fusiliers. Private Norman, on single sentry-go, caught sight of the grey figures creeping stealthily towards him. Firing his rifle to sound the alarm, he rushed forward and leaped boldly into the trench where the enemy had taken cover. Two he seized and held prisoner, conducting them back to the British lines, but the third escaped. The plucky Fusilier got the Cross for this action when the time came to reckon up those who were most worthy of the honour.

But to narrate the several exploits of the heroes of the trenches is to tell much the same story over and over again. A score or more of gallant fellows—Moynihan, Coleman, Alexander, McWheeney (who was never absent for a single day from his duties throughout the war), and others—braved the Russian fire to dash out into the open and rescue from certain death some wounded officer or private who lay exposed on the field. The V.C. was often earned many times over by these.