It has been freezing extremely hard these two last nights, and this morning a man was found frozen in my tent. His name was George Murphin, he was a good soldier; he lay down, as we all did, and went to sleep—and never woke. When the orderly was rousing the men, this man was found frozen stiff in death. There has been over one hundred men admitted into hospital from the trenches these last twenty-four hours, seized with cramps and nearly frozen—all from the want of clothing. The cavalry division lost about fifty horses within the last three days, and I dread to think of the number of men who will die if this weather continues long. The commissariat mules and horses are dying off very fast, and the men seem likely to follow, if there is not something done soon to protect the army from the inclemency of the weather, of which we are more afraid than of the Russians. It is the wish of every officer and man in the camp that Lord Raglan would march the whole army against Sebastopol, and let us take it or die in the attempt—we had better die in battle than die with cold, starvation and sickness. We are of opinion that we would not lose so many men in taking it as we are now losing daily by sickness and the want of food and clothes. A new burial ground having been opened about two hundred yards to the right front of our regiment, on the side of the hill, frequently may be seen passing our tents, every day, four soldiers slowly winding their way towards this grave-yard, with a corpse sewed up in a blanket, carried on a stretcher on the men's shoulders—no person accompanying the solitary funeral—and buried without the ordinary military honours of three rounds of blank fired over him. The burials are too numerous to pay the usual honours, besides, we have not the men to spare; all available for duty are either in the trenches or carrying shot, shell or provisions. The men's spirits are broken down, and they march along with a load on their back, in solemn silence, regardless of anything, not even looking to the right or left, resigning themselves to death which they daily expect, who is following quickly in their footsteps, not by shot from the Russians, but by a slower and surer torture—starvation and cold. When I saw so many men freezing to death, I began to talk to myself thus, "Tom Faughnan, are you going to make no exertion to save yourself from being frozen to death, as some of your comrades have been, and are now buried yonder, on the hill-side? If you get shot by the enemy it is what you expected when you came out here, and is a soldier's death, fighting the battles for the honour and glory of your Queen and country." As I was walking round the tent-pole to keep my blood in circulation, the temperature being many degrees below zero, I held the above soliloquy. A happy thought struck me, and I carried it out, which I believe saved my life. I took a pick-axe and shovel and commenced to build a hut in rear of the company's tents. I worked at it every spare moment until I had a hole dug nine feet long by six wide, and four feet deep, cutting the inside walls straight down, and facing them with stones to a height of two feet above the ground, which left the inside of the hut six feet high, building a fireplace and chimney in the end. I then got my comrade, Dandy Russell, to accompany me to the old bridge at the Tchernaya River, where I climbed up a steep hill, close to a Russian battery, where we got wood on a former occasion, and there I got enough of wood to roof my hut. Having filled our straps with the best we could find, we started for our camp, escaping the Russians who were just above us on the hill. When we got to camp I commenced to roof the hut, cutting the rafters and tying them at the top with some gads made out of willows cut for that purpose. Having the rafters secured along the top, I stretched some small sticks along the sides of the roof, securing them also, and then laying branches over all. I then cut sods in a ravine, carried them to the hut, laid them on the top of the branches, and covered the whole with earth, smoothing it over with the back of the spade, as I would a potato pit in Ireland, to throw off the rain, cutting a trench round it to carry off the water. I made steps going down, and I got a flag to fit the door, so my Irish experience stood to me here. We frequently went to the old bridge for wood, but ran the risk of being shot by the Russians every time. By this means we managed to get wood enough to keep a fire in our hut, and were comfortable while the men were freezing to death in their tents. Dandy and I managed to get on trench duty alternately, so as to leave one of us to look after the hut, and prepare the meals for the other after coming off trench duty.
Having been served with green coffee by the commissariat, and having no means of roasting or grinding it, we had accumulated a large bagful. Now we procured the half of a large exploded shell, and with a nine pound shot we ground the coffee in the shell, after roasting it on a frying pan; most of the men threw their green coffee away, having no means of roasting or grinding. There has been a good deal of firing going on between the French and Russians on the right attack, and the Grenadier Guards had it very hot last night, from a new masked battery the Russians opened on the right near Canrobert's Redoubt. There are three large columns of Russians visible opposite Inkerman on the north side of the Tchernaya, and their movements are very mysterious. They have sent a large body of cavalry to the east of the valley of Balaklava, and at the same time a body of infantry moved off towards the north. The scenery of our camp-ground and the country has now assumed a truly wintry aspect. The lofty peaks and ridges which close up the valley of Balaklava are covered with snow, which gives them the appearance of great height; in the valley and plateau the snow is over three feet deep, and streaked by lines of men and horses carrying up provisions to the camp. The number of dead horses on the wayside increases daily, every slough across the path is marked by a dead horse or mule. At the present rate of mortality the whole division, which can only muster about 600 horses, will be almost extinct in one month more. I went over the camp of the 63rd Regiment, to see a first cousin of mine, named Philip McGurn. I was sorry to learn that he had been severely wounded in the thigh by a piece of a shell, and was sent down to Scutari hospital. The regiment could only muster twelve men for duty, the remainder were either killed or died from sickness in hospital. The 46th Regiment have only about fifty men fit for duty; the Scots Fusilier Guards have lost, since they came out, upwards of 1000 men, and can now only muster about three hundred on parade; and many other regiments in a like proportion.
The duty of carrying provisions and rum from Balaklava to the front is very trying on the men; every two men carry a beaker of rum, biscuit or pork, slung from a pole between them; they march about six miles in this manner, from Balaklava to Head Quarters; horses cannot do this trying work, for they cannot keep their legs, and almost every hundred yards along the way is marked by the carcase of one of these animals. I passed through the French Camp, on my way foraging for wood, and went into several of the men's tents, and was surprised to see the misery they were in. It must not be inferred that the French soldiers are healthy, whilst we are all sickly. I was astonished to see so many lying sick in their tents, and dying with dysentery, diarrhœa, scurvy, and pulmonary complaints. Their men were allowed to lie sick in their tents, which differ from us very much; when our men get sick, they are sent to hospital at once, and there attended by a doctor.
January 14th.—It is thawing fast to-day, and the roads are resuming their former sloppy state, which has increased the difficulties of supplying the men considerably.
The cavalry are getting up sheds for their horses, and sheep-skin coats have been distributed to some of the men. I wonder when the 17th Regiment are going to get any warm clothing, or sheep-skin coats? Some officers it is true, have got some warm jackets, and not before they wanted them. This week large quantities of clothing were served to some of the regiments. It must not, however, be imagined that the supplies sent up are equal to the demand; several regiments have not received a stitch yet, although large quantities have been sent out from England. Whose fault is it? The sick in the hospitals, on the hill tops, suffer severely from cold, and the snow blows into their very blankets. However, such supplies as the men have had prove of the greatest service, and have saved many lives. Consider what men suffer with snow three feet deep about the tents. The men scarcely know what fuel is in many regiments; they break up empty pork barrels and anything that will burn to cook their meals, or grub into the earth for roots and stumps to make a fire. This is enough to make the poor, worn-out, exhausted soldier despair before he sinks to rest; sigh that he cannot share the sure triumph and certain honour and glories of the day when our flag shall wave from the citadel of Sebastopol! Although our patience is sorely tried, yet there is no deep despair here among the troops; no one for an instant feels the slightest doubt of ultimate success.
If British courage, daring, bravery and a strong arm in the fight, contempt of death and love for our Most Gracious Sovereign Lady the Queen and our country; if honour and glory could have won Sebastopol, it had been ours long ago, and may be ours at any time. We are prepared for a dreadful sacrifice, and not one of us for an instant has the least misgiving as to the result. But let our country at least feel that the soldiers now lying on the wet ground before Sebastopol, starving and in rags, deserve at her hands the greenest and the brightest laurels and rewards, and we trust that she may be prepared to reward those gallant, noble officers and soldiers, who in such a position deserve the highest honour she can confer upon them. Let England know them, as the descendants of that glorious army (led by their illustrious chief His Grace the Duke of Wellington) who thwarted the great Buonaparte in Spain and Portugal, who fought at Quatre-Bras, Ligny, and Waterloo; and let England recollect that in fighting her battles against a powerful enemy at that time, we have now to maintain a struggle with foes still more stubborn and barbarous, with a terrible climate, and if they triumphed over the one she may rest assured, as we are, that she will triumph over the other.
With regard to the prospects of the Russians, there can be no doubt that means of communication exist between Inkerman and Sebastopol along the south banks of the estuary of the Tchernaya. It is necessary that more decisive steps be taken to intercept supplies for their garrison, or to harass them more in their attempts to bring provisions to the city. After we seized the Woronzoff road, it was thought that no other means of approach, except by a mountain path, existed between Simpheropol and Sebastopol, on the south side. There can be no doubt that another road has been found out, which enables them to go from Inkerman along the base of the heights on the southern side, and traverse the ravines which lead along the banks of the river into the city.
Waggons can be seen every day coming down from the heights over the Tchernaya river toward Sebastopol, and large bodies of the enemy are visible, passing frequently and disappearing mysteriously into a subterranean passage leading to the citadel.
