With the Connaught Rangers

by Edward Herbert Maxwell

‘What are you burning?’ asked the rider. ‘I see you have a fire by the smoke.’

‘Roots,’ answered Nat.

‘Remember, do not burn charcoal; an officer of the 97th Regiment has lost his life by doing so,’ said Lord Raglan, for he it was, who, bent on deeds of kindly care, rode, unlike the French generals, unattended by any staff, his visits to the camp thus remaining unknown.

After the battle of the Alma I was ordered to take my company on outlying picquet. The night was pitch dark, and my instructions were to communicate with the 19th and 77th, the other two regiments of our brigade. I could see nothing in front, and in our rear were the bivouac fires of the light division, and I heard no sound but the murmur of the voices of the men. At length I was aware that some one mounted was approaching, and a voice said, ‘Who is in command here?’ I advanced and explained my position. The owner of the voice gave me several instructions, one of which was to light a fire, ‘and, if anyone asks you who gave you these orders, say General Pennefather,’ and he rode away.

The men of my picquet lit a fire, and very soon after the picquets of the 19th and 77th approached, attracted by the light, for they also had been puzzled what to do. We had not been long settled when a clatter of cavalry sounded coming towards us, and an English voice made the same observation the general had done! ‘Who is in command here?’ I made myself known, and great was my surprise to find Thompson of the 17th Lancers, with a detachment of his regiment, roaming about. For a moment or two we recalled old scenes in Paris; for he had formed one of that merry party. We shook hands, and he rode away. I never saw him again. He was killed in the charge of the light brigade at Balaclava.

Archdeacon Wright told a good story of a Connaught Ranger, after the battle of the Alma. When we moved on, and came to the river Katcha, where we halted for the night, there was near our bivouac a country house, which had been deserted by its inhabitants a very short time before our arrival. The property was a valuable one, and there were extensive cellars, in which were many large casks of wine. The archdeacon was roaming among them, when all of a sudden he came on a soldier of the Connaught Rangers, who, on being discovered, began to tap the big barrels with a stick, and appeared to listen attentively to the sound he made.

‘What are you doing there, my friend?’ said the archdeacon.

‘May it plase yer riverence,’ replied the man, ‘I was looking for the well, and thought perhaps these barrels moight howld water.’

Some of the men of my company had also been looking for water, for they brought me a huge can full of the best red wine I ever tasted, and just in time; for an order was issued soon after forbidding the men to stray away from the lines of their regiments.

After the flank march through the woods—a most fatiguing performance—and having come to Mackenzie Farm, and the rear of Menschikoff’s army, where his carriage was taken, in which was a drunken aide-de-camp, we continued on to Traktir Bridge, and next day advanced on Balaclava, which was easily captured. What a pretty smiling little harbour it was then! approached through vineyards laden with the most magnificent grapes.