Brave British soldiers and the Victoria Cross / a general account of the regiments and men of the British Army, and stories of the brave deeds which won the prize "for valour"

by Unknown

It is a remarkable fact that Private Henry Ward and Sir H. M. Havelock, Bart., the officer whose life he saved, have both been decorated with the Cross of Valour. The career of Havelock, the avenger of Cawnpore, the deliverer of Lucknow, is matter of history; but the important services and distinguished bravery of his son, who owes his life to Private Ward, ought to be recorded for the admiration and imitation of all who wish to deserve well of their country. He was born at Chinsurah, in the Bengal Presidency, in the year 1830; his father, then a lieutenant in the 13th Regiment, had formed the acquaintance of the Baptist missionaries at Serampore, and was married on the 9th of February, 1829, to Hannah Shepherd, the youngest daughter of the Rev. Dr. Marshman, a distinguished member of that body. Henry Marshman Havelock was the first fruit of this marriage, and had to share from his earliest infancy in all the vicissitudes and dangers of a soldier’s child in India. While still an infant under twelve months of age, he had to accompany his parents on a voyage up the Ganges and was seized with a sudden attack of illness. On this occasion his father exhibited the same calm courage and presence of mind which he afterwards displayed on many a battle-field. “To render the case more disheartening,” he wrote, “we were entirely destitute of the only remedies which we believed likely to be effectual. We had no calomel, and no lancet, and no skilful hand to use it; and the young sufferer grew worse every hour. The danger seemed imminent, and our distress was not trifling. I therefore determined myself to try my skill as an operator, and with a very indifferent substitute for a lancet, and, I fear, not a very steady hand, succeeded in giving relief to my first patient. I should think this a very tedious story to write to one who did not know how the human heart, even the heart of one who has passed through many scenes of suffering and danger, attaches itself to these little ones in their years of helplessness. My clumsy attempts were certainly blessed beyond our hope, for the little sufferer soon became calmer and calmer, and his fever sensibly diminished.” We record this incident, because it proves that tenderness of heart is not incompatible with the sternest courage: the two qualities may, and often do co-exist.

It is unnecessary to dwell on the education or boyhood of young Havelock: from the earliest period he had expressed a desire to adopt his father’s profession, though, judging from his subordinate rank in the army, he had little reason to expect rapid promotion. He obtained his commission in 1847, and at the commencement of the Indian Mutiny held the rank of lieutenant in the 10th Regiment. When his father received the command of the moveable column which was to be formed at Allahabad, and to consist of the 64th Regiment and 78th Highlanders, he was appointed Deputy-Assistant Adjutant-General of this force, and accompanied them in their advance to Cawnpore. He had already held the appointment of adjutant in his own regiment, and acted for a time as aide-de-camp to his father on this his first campaign. He was present at the battle of Futtehpore, where his gallantry attracted the notice and excited the admiration of his father, who, in the original draft of the despatch he had written, thus alludes to his services:—“I shall incur risk of suspected partiality when I further record that the boldness, and activity, and quick perception of Lieutenant Havelock, 10th Foot, my son, and aide-de-camp, on this his first action on shore, inspired me with the hope that he will do his country good service long after I am in the grave.” No one can read these words without emotion, or fail to sympathize with the father of such a son and yet such was the tenderness of Havelock’s conscience, the almost morbid dread that paternal partiality might have led him to exaggerate the merits of his aide-de-camp, that the passage was omitted in the revised copy of the despatch. We question whether there be many officers in the service who would exhibit the same reticence, or practise the same self-denial under similar circumstances; but Havelock was one of a thousand. Though he had the Spartan self-denial to omit his son’s name in his published despatch, he speaks of “the boy H.” in admiring terms in his private letters, and circumstances soon occurred which led him to believe it to be his duty to recommend him for the distinction of the Victoria Cross.

A brief statement of these circumstances may not be out of place. On the 16th of July, 1857, Havelock was close upon Cawnpore, and after allowing his exhausted troops a few hours’ rest in a mango grove, until the fierce heat of the mid-day sun had abated, prepared for action. Nana Sahib, having completed his work of butchery in the town, had marched forth with his army, and taken up a strong position at Atherwas, the point where the road leading to the cantonment branches out from the main trunk-road to Cawnpore. He there commanded five villages, with numerous intrenchments, armed with seven guns; his infantry was stationed in the rear. Havelock perceived at once that the guns could not be silenced, or the intrenchments carried without sacrificing many valuable lives, and with his small army he had none to spare. He therefore quietly wheeled his force round to the left of the enemy’s position, behind a screen of clumps of mango. When the rebels detected this manœuvre, they endeavoured to strengthen their left flank by bringing up their cavalry, and opening fire in that direction with all their artillery. Then followed a series of operations which proved, in the most striking manner, the superiority of the British infantry to the recreant foe opposed to them; though inferior in numbers, and exhausted by their long march, they advanced under a heavy fire with as much coolness as if they had been on parade; and when the word was given, “Charge,” they rushed forward with a ringing cheer, and drove the enemy before them at the point of the bayonet. Four villages were thus taken in rapid succession, and seven guns fell into our hands. As a last effort the enemy planted a 24-pounder on the cantonment road, by which our men had to advance, and inflicted severe loss on the gallant little band. Our artillery cattle were so exhausted with heat and fatigue, that the guns could not be dragged forward to silence the 24-pounder, and the enemy, encouraged by their temporary success, began to rally with the evident intention of renewing the engagement. The moment was critical: all depended upon the capture of the enemy’s gun. This task was assigned to the 64th Regiment, who advanced along the road amid a shower of grape, under the command of Major Stirling. An officer commanding a regiment ought always to be mounted, especially in action: he is thus a conspicuous object to his men, and his presence inspires them with fresh courage. Unfortunately, Major Stirling’s horse had been wounded by the bursting of a shell, and he was obliged to lead on his men on foot. It does not appear that there was any hesitation or irresolution on the part of the 64th, anything, in short, to justify another officer in attempting to supersede the one already in command; on the contrary, their conduct throughout the day was rewarded with the highest praise in a public despatch. While they were in the act of advancing, young Havelock, perceiving no officer at their head, and knowing how much depended on the capture of the gun, yielded to an almost irresistible impulse by riding forward, and placing himself at the head of the regiment. Gallantly he advanced in front of them, amid a storm of grape, cheering them on by his voice and example, till he rode his horse to the very mouth of the cannon which had arrested our progress. It was seized by the 64th, and the enemy losing all heart fell back on Cawnpore, where they blew up the magazine, and then went on to Bithoor.

General Havelock, who had witnessed the gallantry of his son, resolved to recommend him for the Victoria Cross. We have already seen how on a previous occasion he had omitted his name from a public despatch lest he should be suspected of partiality: this circumstance, perhaps, rendered him more anxious to do justice to him now. There was no reason in the world why he should be debarred from this honour if he had fairly earned it, because his father happened to be the officer in command. It appears, however, that he himself wished the affair to be overlooked. It is not for us to specify the motive by which he was actuated: it may have been a tender regard for his father’s character of impartiality, or an apprehension of the storm of hostility which the bestowal of this honour would excite, or the consciousness that he was not justly entitled to it. Be this as it may, the fact is certain that he persuaded his father to suppress the telegram which he had prepared for the Commander-in-Chief. He was more anxious that his own merits should be overlooked than that his father’s good name should be impugned: he was willing to wait. On the return of the troops to Cawnpore after the battle of Bithoor, General Havelock having occasion to recommend another officer for the Victoria Cross, no longer felt himself justified in overlooking the claim of his own son. “I also recommend for the same decoration Lieutenant Havelock, 10th Foot. In the combat at Cawnpore he was my aide-de-camp. The 64th Regiment had been much under artillery fire, from which it had suffered severely. The whole of the infantry were lying down in line, when perceiving that the enemy had brought out their last reserved gun—a 24-pounder—and were rallying around it, I called up the regiment to rise and advance. Without any other word from me, Lieutenant Havelock placed himself on his horse in front of the centre of the 64th, opposite the muzzle of the gun. Major Stirling, commanding the regiment, was in front, dismounted; but the lieutenant continued to move steadily on in front of the regiment, at a foot pace, on his horse. The gun discharged shot till the troops were within a short distance, when they fired grape. In went the corps, led by the lieutenant, who steadily steered on to the gun’s muzzle, until it was mastered by a rush of the 64th.”

It is worthy of remark, that this recommendation was concealed from his son, and only communicated to him after his father’s death by Lieutenant Hargood, General Havelock’s aide-de-camp. This circumstance is to be regretted on many grounds: if the telegram had been submitted to young Havelock before it was forwarded to the Commander-in-Chief, we are certain, from our personal knowledge of his character, that he would have so modified certain expressions it contains as to have avoided wounding the tender sensibilities of those who felt aggrieved by them. Without doing any injustice to himself he might have done more justice to Major Stirling, and the officers of the 64th; but the responsibility rests not with him but with his father, who, before the storm excited by the publication of this telegram had burst forth, had already gone the way of all living, and was indifferent to popular praise or blame. The Cross of Valour was awarded to Lieutenant Havelock in March, 1858, and on reading it in the Gazette, the officers of the 64th Regiment, considering that they had just cause of complaint against both father and son, addressed a letter of expostulation to Sir Colin Campbell, the Commander-in-Chief in India. There is no reason to believe that the gallant old chief was actuated by any personal feeling in the matter, but he felt it to be his duty to forward the letter of expostulation to His Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge, accompanying it with certain strictures implying grave censure on father and son.

Men who have spent so many years in the service as Lord Clyde are naturally opposed to innovations. There is a certain period in life when we all become conservative in principle. Old men, since the days of Homer, have ever been prone to exalt the past at the expense of the present; and Lord Clyde was no exception to this rule. He regarded the Victoria Cross with the same distrust with which he regarded every other innovation. In his own hot youth he had exhibited the most daring courage at Badajoz, and elsewhere, when there was no Victoria Cross to be earned; and he held that courage, like virtue, was its own reward. Devotion to duty, without regard to after consequences, was the principle by which he himself was guided during his long career; the soldier who was animated by a sense of duty required no outward stimulus. The promise or expectation of some badge of distinction as a reward for heroism or gallantry in the field was sufficient, in his opinion, to incite young officers ambitious of honour and reckless of their own lives to rush into rash enterprises without consulting their superiors. Discipline, or, in other words, subjection to lawful authority, he esteemed the highest ornament in every young soldier; no heroic action could atone for any violation of this primary duty.

It is not necessary here to expose the fallacy of such reasoning. Our soldiers were quite as brave when there was no Victoria Cross at all as they are at the present moment: that Cross was intended not to create, but to reward valour. The British soldier requires no outward stimulus, no promised reward, to incite him to do his duty: a true hero will prove himself to be a hero, because it is his nature to be so, and he cannot help it. Nelson never thought of ribbons or peerages when he was fighting our battles at sea; his only ambition was to conquer or to die. The soldier or sailor who distinguishes himself in action never dreams of reward: he is a hero, and he does heroic deeds almost without knowing it. Of all the men who wear the Victoria Cross upon their breasts, there is not one, we believe, who ever thought of that badge of distinction at the moment he earned it. It was innate heroism or tender humanity that placed him at the head of the forlorn hope, or led him to risk his own life to rescue a wounded comrade. The man who would do such deeds from such a purely mercenary motive as the love of applause, would be unworthy of the name of soldier; his selfishness would be even more remarkable than his courage. The Queen’s own Cross was not intended to encourage such selfishness, or to reward such courage; nor has it ever done so. Many of those who wear it were surprised at its being awarded to them, so humble was their estimate of the value of the deeds by which they obtained it; no one ever performed those deeds for the purpose of being awarded the Victoria Cross. It is the expression of our national admiration for deeds which demand some public recognition, and cannot be adequately rewarded in any other way.

These remarks have been elicited by the strictures with which Sir Colin Campbell accompanied the letter of expostulation from the officers of the 64th Regiment, which he forwarded to His Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge. In that letter they complained, with much appearance of reason, that their own honour and that of the regiment had been compromised by an officer of the staff usurping the place of Major Stirling, the officer in command, when there was nothing to justify him in doing so. Major Stirling was at the head of his regiment, and the 64th were discharging the duty assigned to them. If he was not mounted, there was a sufficient reason for this: his horse had been wounded by the bursting of a shell, and was unable to carry him. If the regiment had betrayed any irresolution, or hesitated to advance, the occasion might have justified young Havelock’s interference; but they positively denied that such was the case, and requested that some steps might be taken to vindicate their honour, which had been impugned by awarding the Victoria Cross to one whose conduct was more deserving of censure than of praise.

It is difficult to take a cool, dispassionate view of this affair; our sympathies are naturally with the young lieutenant, but we must endeavour to be just. No one can find fault with the officers of the 64th for writing such a letter: to a soldier reputation is everything; and the fair fame of a regiment, like that of a woman, if once lost can never be regained. Every regiment in the service has its distinctive character, as much as every soldier who belongs to it; it was clearly, therefore, the duty of the officers of the 64th to protest against a measure which reflected on them and the soldiers under their command. Their silence would have been a tacit admission that there was ground for such reflections; their protest was a natural appeal against them.