On the 28th of July, Havelock’s army reached Mungulwar, a village situated six miles from the Ganges, on a ridge elevated about two hundred feet above the surrounding country, where they might have held their ground against all the rebels in Oude. But their only desire was to push on to Lucknow; they might still be in time to rescue the beleaguered garrison from the rebels, who were hemming them in on every side. This desire was strengthened by the arrival of a messenger, who contrived to elude the vigilance of the rebel army at Lucknow, and reached our camp in safety, bringing with him a plan of the town, and a valuable report from Brigadier Inglis, written partly in Greek characters as a measure of precaution. Havelock saw all the danger of the undertaking. “If the worst come to the worst,” he said to his son, “we can only die sword in hand.” Death to him had no terrors: the only question was whether he could fight his way to the Residency with 1500 men, and ten badly-equipped guns. The enemy were closing in upon him in front and rear; he must cross the bridge across the Sye at Bunnee, which the rebels had entrenched and covered with their guns; he must be prepared to repel the 3000 men which the Nana had collected to intercept his retreat. With their minds fresh from the horrors of Cawnpore, there was only one desire among our men—to go on, to conquer or to die. Havelock expressed the feeling of all, when writing to the Government, on the 28th July, he said, “The communications convince me of the extreme delicacy and difficulty of any operation to relieve Inglis; it shall be attempted, however, at every risk.” There spoke the spirit of a true soldier, of one in whose mind every other consideration was subordinate to a sense of duty.
The little army started at daybreak on the morning of the 29th of July, and, after advancing about three miles, reached the town of Oude, which was occupied by the enemy. Their position is thus described by the general, in the despatch which he wrote after the battle:—“The enemy’s right was protected by a swamp, which could neither be forced nor turned; his advance was drawn up in a garden enclosure, which, in this warlike district, had, purposely or accidentally, assumed the form of a bastion. The rest of his (advance) force was posted in and behind a village, the houses of which were loopholed. The passage between the village and the town of Oude is narrow. The town itself extended three quarters of a mile to our right. The flooded state of the country precluded the possibility of turning in this direction. The swamp shut us in on the left. Thus an attack in front became unavoidable.”
The general perceived that the enemy enjoyed every advantage of position, but he lost no time in commencing the attack. The passage between the village and the town of Oude was very narrow, but it was along this passage that our troops had to advance, as they were hemmed in by the swamp on one flank, and on the other by the floods which had swept over the adjoining country. There were two regiments in whose courage and steadiness under fire the general had the fullest confidence; to them was assigned the post of honour. On the 29th of July, about six o’clock in the morning, the 78th Highlanders and the 1st Madras Fusiliers advanced along the passage, supported by two guns, and met with a determined resistance. The bastioned enclosure was carried at the point of the bayonet, and the enemy fell back on the village, where they opened a destructive fire upon our men from the loopholed houses. On this the general ordered the 64th and 84th Regiments to attack a gateway on the left, and the 78th Highlanders to force an entrance by a narrow passage on the right. Private Patrick Cavanagh, of the 64th Regiment, was the first to clear the wall behind which the enemy were sheltered; he stood there alone, confronted by at least a dozen of troopers, but the intrepid Irishman never dreamed of turning his back on the foe. He stood there immovable as a rock, till he was literally cut to pieces before his comrades could come to his aid; by his side lay three of the enemy, whom he had killed with his own hand. Havelock was ever ready to distinguish merit wherever it appeared, and after the battle he thus alluded to this incident: “There were men among you whom I must laud to the skies. Private Patrick Cavanagh, of the 64th, died gloriously, hacked to pieces by the enemy, when setting a brilliant example to his comrades. Had he survived, he should have worn the Victoria Cross, which never could have glittered on a braver breast. But his name will be remembered as long as Ireland produces and loves gallant soldiers.”
Another gallant soldier, who equally distinguished himself on this occasion, met with a better fate. When the 78th Highlanders advanced along the narrow passage to the right, they found the end of it barricaded by a wall breast high, with the houses loopholed on either side. The enemy were thus enabled to bring a cross fire to bear upon our men as they approached the wall, and it was necessary to dislodge them. This task was assigned to the Light Company of the 78th Highlanders, who swarmed around the gateway, and strove in vain to effect an entrance. Crowded together in a narrow space, the men were exposed to the enemy’s cross fire without being able to retaliate, and several of them were struck down. They tried the wall on every side, like bees rushing against a hive the door of which has been closed, but it resisted all their efforts. A gun was sent for to enlarge the opening and break down the barricade, but the gunners, being exposed to the enemy’s fire, were soon either killed or wounded. Little impression can be made on a mud wall by artillery, and the enemy, emboldened by their temporary success, began to believe their position to be impregnable. But the sequel proved that it was not so. Andrew Cathcart Bogle, a young lieutenant of the 78th, saw before him an opportunity of distinction, by which he did not fail to profit; he knew that by forcing that gateway he was holding his life in his hand, but he was prepared for such a sacrifice if his country required it. Collecting a few men of his own regiment, whom he knew and could trust, he gave the word of command, and charged in at their head through the narrow opening in the gateway. A shower of bullets descended on the devoted little band, but on they went, driving the enemy before them and clearing the way for their comrades, who could not refuse to follow such an example. The gallant leader of this forlorn hope was struck down with the cheer of victory on his lips, but strong arms raised him gently from the ground, and bore him to a place of safety. He was severely wounded, but he thought little of his wounds when, on the following day, he received a visit from the general, who esteemed it his duty to thank him personally for the daring courage he had displayed, and the noble example he had set before his men. Nor did Havelock’s appreciation of his conduct end here; he was resolved that his courage should meet with a more signal and permanent form of reward than any language, however complimentary, could convey, and drew up a special report of his gallantry, which was forwarded to His Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief. In consequence of this report, the young lieutenant, who soon recovered from his wounds, and has done good service to his country elsewhere, was decorated with the Victoria Cross, which he still continues to wear on his manly breast. Over the gateway at Oude might well have been inscribed the words which Dante read over another gateway, and has bequeathed to us in his “Inferno”—
“Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’ entrate”—
but true courage rises superior to every difficulty, and the gleaming sword can arrest hope in her flight.
The greatest results often bring on the smallest events, and it is the work of the historian to trace the connexion between effects and their causes. The charge through the gateway at Oude was not an isolated act of bravery, important only to the immediate actors; it was one of those daring deeds which tell upon armies, and inspire them with confidence in their own courage. The smallest reverse may lead to a panic, and strip a regiment or an army of that prestige which it has already acquired; while one daring deed thrills with electric force through officers and men, and produces the conviction that they are invincible. Such a conviction was a needful element of power in such an army as Havelock’s, where every man had to confront ten of the enemy, and to fight as if the rescue of Lucknow depended on his single arm. Regarded in this light, the entrance through the gateway at Oude may be regarded as one of the most important events in the Indian campaign, and the young Highlander who led the forlorn hope on that occasion was well entitled to the Cross of Valour, and deserves to live in the annals of the Indian campaign. He now belongs to a different regiment, but his heart still warms at the sight of the tartan, and he is not likely ever to forget how his trusty Highlanders stood by him on that day.
The rebels fought on this occasion with a courage worthy of a better cause; when the village was set on fire, they continued to occupy the loopholed houses, and offered the most determined resistance. But nothing could withstand the ardour of our troops; they forced their way through the village, drove the enemy before them, and captured their guns. At length our little army was enabled to debouch between the village and the town of Oude, where they saw the rebels drawn up in great strength in an open plain—infantry, cavalry, and artillery. Havelock perceived at once that their object was to obtain possession of the town, and thus arrest him on his first day’s march. Without a moment’s hesitation he pushed forward his troops, already elated with success, till they reached a patch of dry ground, about half-a-mile in extent, surrounded on every side by swamps. Having thus obtained a position between Oude and Lucknow, he drew up his force in line, with four guns in the centre and two on each wing, all bearing on the high road in front, along which the enemy were rapidly advancing. The latter were vastly superior in numbers, but Havelock, unencumbered with native troops, could count on the fidelity and courage of his men, and calmly awaited the approach of the rebels, till they halted in front of our line, and commenced the action. Our artillery then opened fire upon them, and tore through their dense columns massed together on the narrow highway; every discharge left an open passage in their ranks, and told how well our gunners had done their work. In vain they attempted to deploy their force and escape our murderous fire; their guns were engulphed in the swamp; the bullets from our Enfield rifles emptied the saddles of their cavalry; all discipline was at an end; the enemy fled before us in confusion. Then arose the cry, “Remember Cawnpore!” and hundreds of our soldiers, thirsting for vengeance, leaped into the swamp, wading up to the knee and sometimes to the waist, in pursuit of the fugitives, who met with all the mercy they deserved. As the high road was crowded with them, two guns were rapidly moved forward, and their heavy fire prevented them from rallying, and completed their discomfiture. The enemy’s artillerymen fought with desperate courage; when their companions in guilt thought only of consulting their safety by flight, they stood by their guns to the last, and scorned to retreat. If all the rebels had fought with the same spirit the result might have been different; as it was, our victory was complete; fifteen guns fell into our hands; the high road was covered with heaps of dead and wounded; and the enemy’s loss would have been still greater, if we had had cavalry to follow up the pursuit.
Thus ended the action at Oude, with a loss of 300 men to the enemy. Havelock, acting on the principle of the ancient Roman, who thought that nothing was done so long as anything remained to be done, took immediate steps for following up his success; after a halt of three hours for refreshment, the bugle sounded, the men fell into their ranks, and marched forward to Busherutgunge. This was a walled town, intersected by the Lucknow road, with wet ditches and a gate defended by a round tower, four pieces of cannon, and loopholed buildings within the walls; on the other side was a deep broad pond, or sheet of water, crossed by a causeway. It was a position of such strength, that a few brave men might have defended it for days against a whole army; but the rebels, discouraged by their recent reverses, were unable to withstand the impetuosity of our attack. To the Highlanders and Fusiliers, in whom he could always trust, Havelock gave orders to advance, under cover of the guns, to capture the earthworks and enter the town, while the 64th Regiment made a flank movement to the left, so as to cut off all communication with the town by the chaussée which crossed the lake. The attacking party, being exposed to a heavy fire, were ordered to lie down for a little, till our artillery had weakened the enemy’s defences, and caused their fire to slacken; then, on receiving the order to advance, they sprung to their feet, rushed to the trench, cleared it at a bound, and passed through the gate with that wild cheer at which the enemy had already learned to tremble. At the same time the 64th appeared in their rear, and the discomfiture of the enemy was complete; abandoning their guns, they fled in confusion through the town and over the causeway, pursued by the victors. If the 64th had executed the orders they received, and taken possession of the causeway, the whole body of the rebels, intercepted in their flight, might have been put to the sword or taken prisoners; but that regiment for some unknown reason lagged behind, and failed to reach their destination in sufficient time to cut off the enemy’s retreat. In vain the general despatched his aide-de-camp, and urged them to advance; it was too late; the golden moment was past, and night closed in on our weary soldiers, who had been on the move from sunrise to sunset. The general rode on some distance, and then returned by the causeway, which was crowded by the Highlanders and Fusiliers leaning on their arms. All were glad to see the brave old man who had twice led them to victory in one day, and from the ranks rose the enthusiastic cry, “Clear the way for the general!” “My lads,” he replied, with that ready wit which wins the hearts of soldiers, “you have done that to-day already.” Such praise was neither unmerited nor unappreciated by those on whom it was bestowed. “God bless the general!” burst from a hundred lips; they were but a handful of men, but under such a leader they were prepared to withstand a host, and already counted on victory.
Thus, on the 29th of July, 1857, Andrew Cathcart Bogle won the Victoria Cross, and General Havelock two battles. Our loss amounted to twelve killed and seventy-six wounded, while the enemy are supposed to have lost half as many men as our whole army. The value of such actions is not to be calculated by their immediate results so much as by the moral influence they exercise; they did not enable Havelock to advance at once to the relief of Lucknow, but they inspired the men with confidence in their general themselves, and produced the conviction that they would yet subdue the flames of rebellion which were burning so fiercely around them.