Arrival at fort.

A large body of cavalry-men were moving in front, parallel with us. Soon we made a sand-hill, and on going up it saw the Fort heavily mounted with cannon, thousands of bayonets glittering in the morning sun. This was Buddiwal, a village lying between us and it. We halted till the body of the regiment came up, when a battery opened on us. The 31st foot behind could scarcely travel up—the sand was so deep. Sir Harry rode to our colonel, telling him to keep ground with the artillery till all the infantry had passed on, as he did not intend to fight them that day, but would pass on to Loodianna. They were 20,000 strong, we only about 4,000. Here was evidently some error, or some order neglected, for the baggage was too far in rear instead of being well up behind the column. As soon as these flying columns of cavalry saw the unprotected state of the baggage, they who had been seen moving parallel with us, dashed like a thick cloud, cut off our camels with the tents, bedding, money-chests, capturing also the guard of the 31st regiment, a sergeant and twelve men. That night was one of debauch over the spoils. They cruelly treated their prisoners. The Sikh soldiers run a red-hot iron through the sergeant's body. This treatment they would all have received, but it came to the ears of their General who stopped it. We, pushing on, got to Loodianna, and found great havoc had been committed. The barracks and mess-house had been burned, after the 50th left to join the army. What few troops we found there were our native soldiers, and they were shut up in the fort. Here we remained till the 23rd, until some of our elephants with tents and baggage, who had escaped from the raid and gone a long way round, came up. On 23rd January, Sir Harry received intelligence; the enemy were in full retreat from the fort, and cavalry and horse artillery went off at a gallop to intercept them. Sir Harry was too late; when we got to the fort it was deserted—they had the start of us. Ordered to dismount and enter the fort, we found they had burnt the bedding, money-chests and tents, taking with them all of value, and it was quite apparent they hurried away, fearing we would come down on them from Loodianna. The town also bore the marks everywhere of a quick departure. On entering the palace, we found it undisturbed, profusely furnished with European furniture; and on going into one of the best rooms, my comrade and I heard some women scream. Rushing to where the sound proceeded from—an adjacent room—we saw some of our native cavalry ill-treating two women—Circassians—who had belonged to the Rajah's harem. They were forcing their jewellery off them. On seeing two white soldiers, they ran to us. By persuasion, and at times by threats, they showed us where some money was hid. Taking us into the Seraglio, they pointed out a black stone near a fire stove. The floor of this apartment was made of marble, chequered black and white. On lifting the stone pointed out, we discovered two bags containing rupees. Counting them in camp, one had three hundred, the other four hundred and fifty. The girls were beautiful Circassian slaves, and could not have cost less than one thousand rupees each. They were much obliged to us, saying, "Company Dewoy, thank you, thank you." We had great fun that night in camp, appropriating anything found of use. We killed cows and sheep, made cakes, had plenty of milk, and, besides, the two young Circassians attended on us.

Battle of Aliwal.

Reinforcements of infantry constantly arriving from Lord Gough, on the 26th we numbered 10,000 fighting men, and on the 28th we were to march to meet the enemy, who had re-crossed the Sutledge, and added to their number 4,000 men, making them 24,000 in all. We marched in solid square; cavalry in front, then infantry, artillery in centre, and cavalry in rear. The enemy were in sight, as reported by our advance picket, at eight o'clock. As we got near, they moved out of camp, and deployed into line. The 16th Lancers, with the 5th native cavalry and two troops of horse artillery, were ordered to the left. Two regiments of native cavalry, with horse artillery and 31st and 50th foot in centre, all flanked by four regiments of native infantry. The enemy commenced the action at half-past eight, opening a heavy cannonade from the village of Aliwal, their centre—their line reaching three miles from right to left. Very soon the 31st and 50th stormed the village. Colonel Cureton, of the 16th, Brigadier of Cavalry, turned the enemy's left by a rapid movement of cavalry and artillery. On the right a large body of choice Sikh troops were coming down through a wood to outflank us. On this being apparent, our left wing—the 16th Lancers and the 5th Native Cavalry—charged, putting them to the route. I was acting as orderly to Sir Harry, and just where we stood a shell from the enemy, as it flew above us, burst overhead, a piece falling and cutting his telescope in two, as he took it from his eye. This seemingly vexed Sir Harry, for he immediately despatched me to Major Smyth, commanding the right wing, with orders to take that battery. As I delivered the order I fell in with my troop. In front was a battalion of the Rajah's Guards in square. Major Smyth shouted, "Boys, three cheers for the Queen."—"Lancers charge." Away we went as fast as horses could gallop, right through the square, and away to the battery of guns, sabering the gunners, and captured and spiked the guns. An incident is here worthy of recording. The square was just broken by a corporal named Newsome, leaping his horse right into it. As he jumped he shouted, "Here goes, boys; death or a commission!" Unfortunately for the country, and the service, to which he was an ornament, he was killed, and when found, after the square was broken, he had nineteen bayonet stabs on his body, with the green standard of Mahomet in the grasp of his hand. My lieutenant was wounded, and the Cornet killed here, the Sergeant-Major severely wounded. We were separated from the wing. I gave the word "about," and as we came back, it was as bad as going to the front. The enemy were scattered, firing in every direction. Our Major fell from his horse wounded. Him we brought to the rear, when we met the General, who shouted: "Well done 16th, you have immortalized yourselves to-day." Missing so many officers, he added: "Where are your officers—all wounded or dead?"

"Immortalized 16th."

On being informed, he desired me to take the remnant of the troop and join the squadron going over the hill there, pointing them out. I had 45 men out of 87. We joined the other squadron just in time; it was commanded by Major Beer, and was just about charging another square, enfiladed by artillery; having done so, a retreat of the whole enemy was the result. We followed in pursuit to the river; our guns cut their bridge of boats; the flying enemy took to the water—and such a sight!—men, horses, camels, artillery all swamping together. Our gunners, in addition, shelling them from the shores. This was the last of glorious Aliwal.

We formed on the bank, cavalry and artillery. Sir Harry passed along our front as we gave a ringing cheer, his hat in hand. "Men," said he, "it is I should cheer you, for you did the work. Your Queen and country shall know of it." Then another ringer. And now for the melancholy part of the work.

Wounded to the village.

We had not tasted meat or drink since six o'clock in the morning; it was now evening. We had five miles to go over to collect the wounded, and bury the dead. The carnage was fearful; horses, dead and mutilated most fearfully, as they plunge very much when wounded. Several were trying to get about on three legs; we killed these outright. Where the fighting was close, as in square, men's bodies were thickest; wounded in all conceivable ways; jaws shot away; often heads; some disemboweled. But enough—it is not pleasant to remember, particularly some who were near comrades; we lost in all seventy-six officers and men killed, seventy-seven wounded, and one hundred and sixty horses. Five thousand of the enemy had been killed, besides a number drowned in the river on the retreat. We captured fifty pieces of artillery and all their camp. It was laughable to see a man of the 31st lugging to his camp an elephant, by a piece of rope tied to his trunk, and another with three camels tied together. In the evening I was ordered to take some wounded to the hospital at the village, two miles back. On getting there, the wounded were laid out on straw down the centre street, the surgeons busy in their shirt sleeves amputating arms and legs by the light of torches. Riding back in the dark we could plainly hear the groans of the wounded and dying Sikhs; we could not help them, and even if we attempted, they have been known, even when almost dead, stretching out their hand and stabbing a Sepoy or one of our own, who may have been near them. However, all of ours were collected; when we got back the army was preparing to bivouac for the night on the field. The following day was spent in preparing lists of wounded and killed, and seeing the former as comfortable as possible under cover of tents. On the 30th the wounded and the guns captured were sent to Loodianna.

During the charge of the 16th Lancers through the squares of the Imperial Guards, a sergeant of my troop received a musket shot in the left side, and his horse also was shot dead. Then he was attacked by four Sikhs; he defended himself bravely with his sword, having cut down three. The fourth was about to finish him when a little Ghoorka at a distance levelled his rifle and shot the foe, thus saving the sergeant. Yet he died a few days after. These Ghoorkas are small hill-tribe men. Under the Company there are three battalions, officered by British officers, and good soldiers they are, loyal and brave. They carry three formidable knives in the shape of a sickle, and they have been known to kill a bear or tiger single-handed. They are recruited from the tribes in the Himalaya Mountains beyond Simla and Nina Tal. The officers and merchants, who reside on the hills during the hot season, keep a number of these small hill men as servants to carry the jompam, or fetch wood and water, each family dressing them in Highland costume. They are very honest and industrious. Numbers of them come in from the valleys with walnuts and other fruits for sale.