The British Expedition to the Crimea

by Sir William Howard Russell

I WENT carefully over the position on the 6th, and as I examined it, I was amazed at the noble tenacity of our men. The tents of the Second Division were pitched on the verge of the plateau which we occupied, and from the right flank of the camp the ground rises gently for two or three hundred yards to a ridge covered with scrubby brushwood, so thick that it was sometimes difficult to force a horse through it. The bushes grew in tufts, and were about four feet high. On gaining the ridge you saw below you the valley of the Tchernaya, a green tranquil slip of meadow, with a few white houses dotting it at intervals, some farm enclosures, and tufts of green trees. From the ridge the hill-side descended rapidly in a slope of at least 600 feet. The brushwood was very thick upon it, and at times almost impervious. At the base of this slope the road wound to Inkerman, and thence to Sebastopol. The sluggish stream stole quietly through it towards the head of the harbour, which was shut out from view by the projections of the ridge to the north. At the distance of a quarter of a mile across the valley the sides of the mountains opposite to the ridge of the plateau on which our camp stood rose abruptly in sheer walls of rock, slab after slab, to the height of several hundred feet. A road wound among those massive precipices up to the ruins of Inkerman—a city of the dead and gone and unknown—where houses, and pillared mansions, and temples, were hewn out of the face of the solid rock by a generation whose very name the most daring antiquaries have not guessed at. This road passed along the heights, and dipped into the valley of Inkerman, at the neck of the harbour. The Russians planted guns along it to cover the retreat of their troops, and at night the lights of their fires were seen glimmering through the window and door places from the chambers carved out from the sides of the precipice.

Looking down from the ridge, these ruins were, of course, to one's left hand. To the right the eye followed the sweep of the valley till it was closed in from view by the walls of the ridge, and by the mountains which hemmed in the valley of Balaklava, and one could just catch, on the side of the ridge, the corner of the nearest French earthwork, thrown up to defend our rear, and cover the position towards Balaklava. Below, to the right of the ridge, at the distance of 200 feet from the top towards the valley, was the Sandbag, or two-gun battery, intended for two guns, which had been withdrawn a few days before, after silencing a Russian battery at Inkerman, because Sir De Lacy Evans conceived that they would only invite attack, and would certainly be taken, unconnected as they would have been with any line of defence. On the left hand, overlooking this battery, was a road from Balaklava right across our camp through the Second Division's tents on their front, which ran over the ridge and joined the upper road to Inkerman. Some of the Russian columns had climbed up by the ground along this road; others had ascended on the left, in front and to the right of the Sandbag Battery.

Litter-bearers, French and English, dotted the hillside, hunting through the bushes for the dead or dying, toiling painfully up with a burden for the grave, or some object for the doctor's care. Our men had acquired a shocking facility in their diagnosis. A body was before you; there was a shout, "Come here, boys, I see a Russian!" (or "a Frenchman," or "one of our fellows!") One of the party advances, raises the eyelid, peers into the eye, shrugs his shoulders, says "He's dead, he'll wait," and moves back to the litter; some pull the feet, and arrive at equally correct conclusions by that process. The dead were generally stripped of all but their coats. The camp followers and blackguards from Balaklava, and seamen from the ships, anxious for trophies, carried off all they could take from the field.

Parties of men busy at work. Groups along the hill-side forty or fifty yards apart. You find them around a yawning trench, thirty feet in length by twenty feet in breadth, and six feet in depth. At the bottom lie packed with exceeding art some thirty or forty corpses. The grave-diggers stand chatting, waiting for arrivals to complete the number. They speculate on the appearance of the body which is being borne towards them. "It's Corporal——, of the—th, I think," says one. "No! it's my rear rank man, I can see his red hair plain enough," and so on. They discuss the merits or demerits of dead sergeants or comrades. "Well, he was a hard man: many's the time I was belled through him!" or "Poor Mick! he had fifteen years' service—a better fellow never stepped." At last the number in the trench is completed. The bodies are packed as closely as possible. Some have still upraised arms, in the attitude of taking aim; their legs stick up through the mould; others are bent and twisted like fantoccini. Inch after inch the earth rises upon them, and they are left "alone in their glory." No, not alone; for the hopes and affections of hundreds of human hearts lie buried with them!

For about one mile and a half in length by half a mile in depth the hill-side offered such sights as these. Upwards of 2,000 Russians were buried there.

WATCHING A TREACHEROUS ENEMY.

As I was standing at the Sandbag Battery, talking to some officers of the Guards, who were describing their terrible losses, Colonel Cunynghame and Lieutenant-Colonel Wilbraham of the Quarter-Master-General's staff rode up to superintend the burial operations. The instant their cocked hats were seen above the ridge a burst of smoke from the head of the harbour, and a shell right over us, crashed into the hill-side, where our men were burying the Russian dead! Colonel Cunynghame told me Lord Raglan had sent in a flag of truce that morning to inform the Russians that the parties on the hill-side were burying the dead. As he was speaking a second shell came close and broke up our party. It is quite evident that the society of two officers in cocked hats, on horseback, is not the safest in the world. We all three retired.

During the battle of Inkerman the French were drawn up in three bodies of about 2,000 men each on the ridge of the hills over Balaklava, watching the movements of the Russian cavalry in the plain below. As I came up the enemy were visible, drawn out into six divisions, with the artillery and infantry ready to act, and horses saddled and bridled. It was evident they were waiting for the signal to dash up the hills in our rear and sabre our flying regiments. They had a long time to wait! The French lines below us were lined by Zouaves; the gunners in the redoubts, with matches lighted, were prepared to send their iron messengers through the ranks of the horse the moment they came within range. Behind the French 5,000 "Bono Johnnies" were drawn up in columns as a reserve, and several Turkish regiments were also stationed under the heights on the right, in a position to act in support should their services be required. The French were on their march from the sea to our assistance, and the black lines of their regiments streaked the grey plain as they marched double-quick towards the scene of action. The Chasseurs d'Afrique on their grey Arabs swept about the slopes of the hills to watch an opportunity for a dash. Our own cavalry were drawn up by their encampments, the Heavy Brigade on the left, the Light Brigade in the centre of our position. The latter were out of fire for some time, but an advance to the right exposed them to shot and shell. Mr. Cleveland received a mortal wound, and several men and horses were injured later in the day. The Heavy Cavalry were employed in protecting our left and rear.

The column on the extreme Russian right, which came on our position at the nearest point to Sebastopol, was mainly resisted by the Fourth Division and the Marines. The Russian centre was opposed by the Second Division and the Light Division. The Guards were opposed to the third or left column of the Russians. The Fourth Division in a short time lost all its generals—Cathcart, Goldie and Torrens—killed or mortally wounded, and 700, or more than one quarter of its strength, put hors de combat. The Second Division came out of action with six field officers and twelve captains; Major Farrer, of the 47th Regiment, was senior, and took command of the Division.

Sir De Lacy Evans was unwell on board ship when the fight began, but he managed to ride up to the front, and I saw him on the battle-field in the thick of the fight. Captain Allix, one of his aides-de-camp, was killed; Captain Gubbins, another, was wounded.