Cassell's History of England, Vol. 6 (of 8) / From the Death of Sir Robert Peel to the Illness of the Prince of Wales

by Anonymous

The French and British at once began to strengthen and arm their acquisitions, and to sap onward towards the enemy's lines. But this caused great losses day by day. Mortars from behind the Malakoff threw shells into the Mamelon, mortars from the Redan threw shells into the Quarries; guns and mortars from the north side threw their missiles into the White Works. On the left the French did little more to aid the siege. There was mining and counter-mining in plenty in front of the Flagstaff, and some new batteries were constructed and armed on the extreme left; but they did not now push the attack as they had done before. They had come at last to recognise the Malakoff as the true point of attack, and against this they turned all their energies. They worked out above a hundred and fifty yards from the Mamelon, formed a large sheltered place in which to assemble troops, and covered the front with a curving line of parapet. The British built up and armed a six-gun battery in the Quarries, which looked into the enemy's communications behind the Malakoff, and was destined to play an important part; and they also increased the armament in the two attacks until the 13-inch mortars alone amounted to thirty.

The Russians were not a whit less active. Their energies also were bent upon making more complete the formidable defences of the Malakoff. They were especially careful to close the gaps on its proper left towards the Careening Bay, to open new batteries sweeping the ground at the head of that bay, and to construct interior retrenchments and flanking batteries. Their line of works, beginning from the South Harbour and extending to the Great Harbour, was broken only at one point. About a quarter of a mile to the proper left of the Redan, the Karabelnaia, or Middle Ravine—that which ran between the British right attack and the French Malakoff attack—broke the line of the Russian works. On the opposite bank of the ravine, the outer defences of the Malakoff Redoubt began with a work called the Gervais Battery, connected by a curtain with the Malakoff. But in rear of this, as well as in rear of the Little Redan on the proper left of the Malakoff, and in rear of the connecting curtains, the enemy had thrown up retrenchments. In short, General Todleben developed his plan of defence to meet the plan of attack, and as he had plenty of men, and a boundless supply of guns and material, he could execute all his admirable designs. He was a worthy foe.

As usual, the plan of attack was debated at headquarters when it had been decided by superior generals that the guns should open on the 17th, and that the assault should take place the next day. How should this be carried out? It was arranged that the French on the west face of the town should attack its salient defences, the Flagstaff, Central, and Quarantine Bastions, in three columns, under General de Salles; and it was anticipated that if these attacks did not succeed, they would keep many thousands of the enemy employed, and might, if occasion offered, be converted into real attacks, pushed home. The British were to send a brigade down the South Ravine, to seize the cemetery lying at the bottom of its basin, and, in conjunction with a French force, threaten the enemy in that quarter. The main British assaults were to be made on the Redan. If the Redan was carried, then the column in the South Ravine was to climb up to the Barrack Battery, and join the Redan column in the rear. The French were to attack in three columns on the extreme right. One was to follow the Careening Ravine, and storm the Little Redan; a second was to rush upon the proper left of the Malakoff; while a third, issuing from the Middle Ravine, carried the Gervais Battery, and worked round thence to the rear of the Malakoff. The fleet was to send in steamers on the nights preceding the assault, to keep the enemy on the alert in his sea batteries. Immense reserves were to be provided along the whole line. Such was the original plan. It was settled on the 16th, but in the afternoon General Pélissier desired to make an important modification. General de Salles urged that, as the attacks on the left could not succeed, they had better not take place; and General Pélissier, much to the discontent of Lord Raglan, notified that this change had been made. Lord Raglan did not press his objections, and thus the French were merely to "demonstrate" on the left front. No other change was made, except that Lord Raglan decided to send a third column against the Redan, having for its object the salient angle of that work. Finally it was decided that the British should not attack until the French were in possession of the Malakoff. The reason for this was that the guns on the right face of the Malakoff commanded the Redan and the road to the Redan. The whole of the 1st British Division was brought up from Balaclava. The Imperial Guard was marched up to the open ground at the head of the Malakoff Ridge; and 10,000 Turks were posted on the field of Inkermann. There were in the British batteries 166 pieces of ordnance, and nearly 300 in the French.

The bombardment opened at daylight on the 17th with great effect. The Malakoff and the Redan were the objects of our gunners, and the torrent of shot and shell poured into these works had, by nine o'clock, reduced the fire of the Malakoff to an occasional gun. Throughout the day it was the same. The Redan, although it soon ceased to fire with any vigour, flung shells from small mortars with low charges into the Quarries. The Barrack and Garden Batteries were, as usual, conspicuous for their vivacity. But the fire of the Allies completely overpowered that of the eastern front. Its severity may be estimated by the fact that the ammunition consumed in the British batteries alone on the 17th and 18th was 22,684 projectiles, including 2,286 13-inch shells. It must have been nearly impossible for the Russians to work their guns, and quite impossible to work them without awful loss. When the sun went down on the 17th the mortars continued to hurl forth their monstrous missiles; and three or four of the steamers standing in opened a fire of shot, shell, and rockets on the town. It was on one of these occasions that Captain Lyons, fresh from his triumphs in the Sea of Azoff, was struck in the leg by a fragment of shell. The wound proved mortal, and death deprived the British navy of one of its most promising officers.

From the comparative silence of the Russian batteries, Lord Raglan and General Pélissier inferred that the enemy was at the end of his resources. They hoped that at length he had exhausted his stores of artillery. It was a vain delusion. In spite of the bombardment, which went on all night, the enemy managed to replace the pieces in his batteries, and at dawn, as will be seen, he was ready to begin anew. This advantage, indeed, might have been counteracted had the Allies remained faithful to their original plan. There was, in the French camp, a sort of passion for an assault at the very first flush of the dawn. Their officers, Pélissier excepted, had urged that the attack on the Mamelon should be given at daybreak. They were overruled. Now they came to the charge afresh. The whole scheme of the assault rested on the basis that the fire of the enemy had been crushed. To make sure, however, it was originally planned that the assault should be preceded by a three hours' violent cannonade. This would have searched every part of the enemy's works, and prevented him from massing his troops in them in large numbers. On this basis all the orders were given.

Literally at the eleventh hour, the French changed the whole plan. On the evening of the 17th, when all orders had been issued, General Pélissier informed Lord Raglan that his officers declared they could not place their infantry in the trenches without their being seen by the enemy, and that consequently he desired the time of the assault to be altered and fixed for daybreak. Lord Raglan was justly much annoyed, but he yielded. It was a fatal concession. But how could he oppose a colleague who commanded a force nearly double that under Lord Raglan's orders? Therefore, a few hours before the assault was to take place, the old orders were revoked, and fresh orders were issued. This occupied the British commander nearly all night, and left him but one hour for repose.

Throughout the night the troops appointed to storm and support the stormers and the reserves were moving to their appointed places. Down into the British trenches went the men of the Light 2nd and 4th Divisions, under Sir John Campbell, Colonel Lacy Yea, and Colonel Shadforth; while Eyre's Brigade of the 3rd Division moved deep into the South Ravine, and Barnard's Brigade of the same division was placed higher up in support. The right column was to attack the left face of the Redan, the left column the right face. If these succeeded, then the centre column was to charge in at the salient. Eyre was to move towards the works at the end of the South Ravine. The French, in addition to the ordinary guards, marched three entire divisions, about 16,000 men, into their trenches, and placed in reserve a part of the division of the Imperial Guard, bringing the force up to about 24,000 men. The right division, under the orders of General Mayran, marched into the Careening Ravine; the centre, under General Brunet, had one brigade in front of the right of the Mamelon, the other in the trenches behind; the left, under General d'Autemarre, placed one brigade on the left front of the Mamelon, the other in the trenches in the rear. The trenches and the ravines were choked up with troops, all silent and crouching in the dark. Some were sitting under the parapets, others lying flat in the ravines. But there was also a good deal of movement, for the troops had to be placed so that they could most easily and with slightest disorder move swiftly out of the trenches. Seen from the higher ground in the rear, the soldiers are said to have looked, in the deep obscurity, like the people of a world of shadows.

The allied generals had intended to surprise the place; to break into it when its defenders were the least prepared. Some suppose that the enemy was forewarned by spies and deserters of the coming assault, for, far from being taken unawares, the Russians were as much on the alert as the Allies. Behind those dark and silent entrenchments there were thousands of soldiers under arms, and waiting in silence to do their duty at the first tap of the drum or bray of the trumpet. It needed not spies or deserters to forewarn them. The custom of armies when near each other is to parade before break of day, and this is not less the custom of garrisons when besieged, or of an army, like that in Sebastopol, defending a mighty entrenched camp. So it was on the 18th. Behind the huge Malakoff and the Great Redan, in rear of the connecting parapets, and in the houses of the suburb, lay 16,000 men ready to clutch their arms and fall on. In front of the works were watchful sentries, and in the works the gunners stood by their pieces, prompt to fire. The steamers in the harbour, sheltered under the cliffs, had their fires lighted and their steam up, and were prepared to throw shell, and grape, and canister on the assaulting columns. But had Lord Raglan's plan of a three hours' bombardment been carried out, the fire could not have failed to disarrange the plan of defence, the chances of surprising the defenders would have been great, and the assailants, moving upon what they could see, would have stormed with greater unity and greater confidence.

It was still dark. General Regnault de Saint Jean d'Angely, with the Imperial Guard, was in the Lancaster Battery. Lord Raglan was at his post, watching for the signal. The unemployed spectators, officers and amateurs, were on the hills in groups here and there. General Pélissier was still on his way, and upwards of half a mile from his post. Hope, nay, confidence reigned in every breast. The British were cool, ready, and quiet. The French, to use their own expression, were quivering with eagerness, but their centre columns were not yet placed.

Suddenly, none knew why, flashes of fire, followed by a sullen uproar, were seen and heard on the extreme right. The flashes grew brighter and more frequent, the noise of exploding gunpowder grew louder. The roar of big guns rose above the crash of musketry, and the roll of drums and shrill notes of trumpets were heard in the transitory lulls of the larger tumult. What had happened? No signal rockets had climbed upwards from the Lancaster Battery to break into a bouquet of coloured fires. General Pélissier, hurrying through the dark over the plateau, was perplexed and furious. Still the combat raged about the head of the Careening Bay, and the fire of the place grew fiercer and more sustained. Ten minutes elapsed—minutes that seemed weeks to the wondering spectators. The French general entered the battery in a fury; demanding sharply who had given the signal, his wrath changed into astonishment when he was told no signal had been given, and his astonishment into vexation when he learned that General Mayran had mistaken a military rocket, fired from the Mamelon, for the signal to assault! The unity and suddenness of the assault were thus destroyed; but General Pélissier, without hesitation, ordered the rockets to be fired, and, at seven minutes past three, the clustering stars of fire hung for a moment up in the black sky, and then paled and vanished. The French troops dashed out in the gloom to the assault.