The British Expedition to the Crimea

by Sir William Howard Russell

A second Christmas in the Crimea—Festivities—Strength of the Russian Army in the Crimea—Exhaustion—Camp Followers—Stirring Incidents—Harbour Discipline—Russian Fire—Order of Merit—Destruction of the Docks—Plan of Proceeding—Grand Review of English Troops—Splendid Appearance of the Men.

THE SECOND CHRISTMAS.

The monotony of life in the huge military colony before Sebastopol was broken slightly by the appearance of the Russians on the heights of Ourkousta, and by some demonstrations of an intention on their part to try the strength of the French positions in the Baidar Valley. As the French retired in the presence of winter, the enemy threw forward their advanced posts at Koluluz and Markul to the north-east, and from Aitodor and Ozembash to the north of Baidar. On Sunday morning, the 9th of December, the Russians, with their feline aptitude for surprises, crept round the little village of Baga in the dark, and just at the dawn rushed in upon the small party of the French which occupied it. For a time the surprise was complete; but our gallant allies soon got together, and after a smart fusillade, drove out the enemy at the point of the bayonet. The Russians had many horsemen with them. In the pursuit of the Cossacks our Allies managed to capture some forty horses, for the former gentry fled by a road which in old times was good enough for a run, but they were astonished to find themselves stopped by a deep scarp at a pretty spot, where a wall of rock closed the road at the right-hand side, and a precipice formed the left-hand boundary, so they had nothing for it but to dismount and scramble across, leaving the horses, accoutrements and all, to their fate. In this affair the French had 1 officer mortally wounded, 7 men killed, and 13 wounded, and the Russians left 70 dead on the ground, and 20 men prisoners in the hands of the French.

On Monday, December 10, a High Mass, at which many English officers attended, was performed on board the French flagship for the soul of Admiral Bruat. The decease of the Admiral was heard of by our navy with sincere regret.

About the same time we heard of the fall of Kars. Criticism on military matters by civilians is worthless when the questions agitated relate to the details of manœuvres or to pure strategy, but military men cannot expect to be exempted from the criticism of civilians on general questions relative to the conduct of the war. Captain Smith may have his Grenadier company in perfect order and discipline, and may lead them with the greatest gallantry; but the civilian who from some eminence sees Captain Smith taking his men into broken ground, filled with riflemen or swept with grape, where their order and discipline are of little service to them, is entitled to exclaim, "What a fool that fellow is!" When Kars had fallen, every one said, "What the deuce were Omar Pasha and his Turks doing so long at Baidar, or encamped on the tumuli overlooking the plains of Balaklava and the English head-quarters? Of what use were they perpetually in transitu between Eupatoria and the Col of Balaklava, or on the tramp between Kamara and Phoros? Why was Kars allowed to fall, and why was Omar Pasha sent to Asia Minor so late in the year?" The defence of Kars was honourable, but so was the defence of Sebastopol, and Kars was not less Russian because it was won by so much of their best blood. The Turks, indeed (according to the testimony of all acquainted with them), were most miserably mismanaged and badly handled, and no use was made of them except to garrison Eupatoria, which they would have been able to do with at most half of their army. Thus the remaining half might have been set free for active operations. Although the fate of Kars could not materially influence the result of the struggle in the Crimea, active operations directed against the enemy from Kars might, in the opinion of most excellent judges, have produced very considerable results on the calculations of the next campaign, and on the prospects of the war. But the fall of Kars produced no surprise—the wonder rather seemed to be that it held out so long, and every one admitted that he had a secret presentiment that the city must, sooner or later, fall into the hands of the Russians. Every one who knew the country felt persuaded that Omar Pasha's expedition set out too late, and yet we all fell into ecstasies at the passage of the Ingour, and talked of the march on Kutais as if these things could save Kars, and no one cared to look at the map or consider the chances of such a result.

The winter at last set in, but cold and frost had lost their terrors for the army then. There is an old saying, that "a green Christmas makes a full churchyard," and it might have been realized, inasmuch as the cholera appeared in the Highland regiments—notable sufferers in epidemics of the kind—and some cases occurred in other regiments, before the thermometer fell below freezing-point. On Tuesday forenoon (Dec. 11th) the thermometer was at 55°; on Wednesday (Dec. 12th) it was 50°; on Thursday (Dec. 13th) it fell to 28°; on Friday (Dec. 14th) it was 22°; on the 15th it marked 20° Fahrenheit. With moderate exercise, hard ground, good footing, good feeding, warm clothing, and occupation, there was little reason to entertain any apprehension for the troops during the winter. It must be stated, however, that the complaints against the new huts were numerous and well founded, and during the wet weather it was seriously proposed to remove the men, and put them into double tents. They never were intended, I presume, to keep out water without some felt or waterproof covering, and none had been provided: not even the tar and pitch in one of the vessels at Balaklava could be landed. Still this promised to be a joyous Christmas. Solitary subalterns rode out to Miskomia, and gazed gloomily on the beautiful mistletoe which grows on all the wild pear and apple trees in these lovely valleys. Their contentment returned when they thought of the fat goose, which, tied by the leg, was waiting his doom by the kitchen tent or bakehouse, or of the tender pig, which had been reared up from his childhood for the sole object of doing honour to the coming feast, and was "just fit to be killed."

Contrasts were drawn between dinners in the trenches, on dreary outposts, on remote guards and pickets the year before, and the luxuries which were then forthcoming for the grand English festival. Men remembered "that tough old turkey, which cost 40s., and that turned the edge of the carver like plate glass," and laughed over the fate which seemed somehow to attend most efforts to be jolly that Christmas, and then turned and looked round their huts, which generally, it must be confessed, were very like retail grocers' establishments, backwood stores, or canteen-men's magazines. The shelves placed along the walls in layers, the cupboards made of packing-cases or powder boxes, filled with pâtés in Strasburgh ware, hams, tins of soups and preserves, made dishes, vegetables, long-necked bottles of French manufacture, and the stumpier sturdier work of the English glass-blower. There was a stove or some substitute for a fireplace in each hut, which always enjoyed the advantage of a famous draught from the door and walls. As to the latter, the embellishments upon them whiled away many an idle hour, and afforded opportunities for the exercise of taste, good and bad, the monuments of which perished with the spring. They consisted chiefly of illustrations from the pictorial papers and Punch, transposed ingeniously by the introduction of faces, figures, and bits of different engravings, with the view of giving them a ludicrous or whimsical character, and the result was often very amusing. The walls were covered with them; a pastepot, a pair of scissors, some old papers, and a little fancy—these were materials of which a man could make wonderful use in enlivening and decorating the wooden walls of his temporary residence.

NEW BALAKLAVA.

On the night of the 12th of December, the storm howled and raged fearfully over the camp, and brought a deluge of rain, which it discharged in water-spouts, driving it through huts and tents, and forcing it in streams through the minutest interstices. The gusts were extremely violent, and the beating of the rain kept many a one awake with only one topic of consolation, namely, that there was "No trench guard to-night." Until four o'clock the wind seemed to come from the south-west, but at that hour it veered round towards the north, and became bitterly cold. All at once the rain was converted into hail and snow; the wet ground began to freeze; and at eight o'clock, by one of those magical changes which can only be equalled by the chymical landscapes of our childhood, the whole camp, which, at sundown the night before, was an expanse of blackish mud, dotted with white tents and huts, became a sheet of dazzling white, marked with lines of dusky, greyish habitations of canvas and wood. The wind was exceedingly cold and penetrating. The unfortunate natives of Southern Europe or of Asia, employed in such myriads in the service of the army, suffered greatly on such occasions, and perished like flies in frost. The huge swarm of camp-followers, who, to the number of some ten thousand, hovered about the canteens and round Balaklava, Kadikoi, and the fairs, also felt the effects of this weather.

There were not less than 25,000 camp followers, including those of the French, Sardinians, and English, belonging to the Allied army, or hanging on their skirts. In the pursuit of gain, most of these people exposed themselves to considerable hardships and privations. How they provided fodder for the beasts they drove was one of the secrets of their peculiar existence, and the variety of vehicles belonging to these Bashi-Bazouks of trade and commerce constituted a curious detail of the wonders of the camp. One might witness the incidents of the scenes of the last year repeated in the winter of '55. I saw an old Turk in a moribund state carried into Balaklava on the back of a native almost as wretched-looking as himself; and riding on to the Land Transport camp, between Kadikoi and the Col, I beheld a native bearing in the same way a living skeleton from one tent into another. These men were provided by Government with long Turkish gregos, but, somehow or other, exposure to bad weather produced disastrous results upon them, although their frames seemed very vigorous. I am afraid the Temperance Society won't forgive me if I express a private opinion that a little stimulant might have been "exhibited" on these poor fellows, who ate largely of vegetables, and were saturated with onions, garlic, and leeks; and that, under the circumstances, they might, without injury, have partaken of a moderate quantity of spirits. If I am not mistaken, Sir Philip Crampton is of opinion that so long as the Irish are a potatophagous race, a predilection for whisky will be found among them, in obedience to a secret sympathy of nature, which seeks an ally in alcohol against the effects of her esculent enemy. I do not know for certain that the gallant Surgeon-General ever expressed that opinion, nor would I invoke teetotal wrath and water on his head by saying so; and I beg to disclaim, also, the smallest intention of theorizing, for I think of the Hindoos and rice, of Yankee whalers and hot coffee, and I tremble and am silent. Sometimes a very pretty little rebellion sprang up among the native drivers of the Land Transport Corps of the Fourth Division. They would not stir, in spite of eloquent exhortations in the best Hindostanee addressed to them by Captain Dick, who, standing knee-deep in snow and mud, harangued them as they lay inside their tents. They "sahibbed" away and shrugged their shoulders, and plaintively expressed a decided desire to be flogged, accompanied by suggestions also that they should be at once executed; but they one and all declared that work they would not on such a raw and gusty day.