"I have been in four general engagements of the most formidable kind ever known in India. On the 10th, on our usual quiet march we were surprised by being joined by an additional regiment, and by an order for all non-soldiers to return to Umbala."
Then comes the description of forced marches, and battles which one feels were won,—and that was all. The same story everywhere as to the Sepoys; at Moodkee,
"Our Sepoys could not be got to face the tremendous fire of the Sikh artillery, and as usual, the more they quailed the more the English officers exposed themselves in vain efforts to bring them on.... At Ferozeshah on the evening of the 21st, as we rushed towards the guns in the most dense dust and smoke, and under an unprecedented fire of grape, our Sepoys again gave way and broke. It was a fearful crisis, but the bravery of the English regiments saved us. A ball struck my leg below the knee, but happily spared the bone. I was also knocked down twice,—once by a shell bursting so close to me as to kill the men behind me, and once by the explosion of a magazine. The wound in my leg is nothing, as you may judge when I tell you that I was on foot or horseback the whole of the two following days.... No efforts could bring the Sepoys forward, or half the loss might have been spared, had they rushed on with the bayonet.... Just as we were going into action, I stumbled on poor Carey, whom you may remember to have heard of at Price's at Rugby. On going over the field on the 30th, I found the body actually cut to pieces by the keen swords of the Sikhs, and but for his clothes could not have recognized him. I had him carried into camp for burial, poor fellow, extremely shocked at the sudden termination of our renewed acquaintance.... I enjoyed all, and entered into it with great zest, till we came to actual blows, or rather, I am (now) half ashamed to say, till the blows were over, and I saw the horrible scenes which ensue on war. I have had quite enough of such sights now, and hope it may not be my lot to be exposed to them again.... We are resting comfortably in our tents, and had a turkey for our Christmas dinner." (pp. 66, 67, 68, 69.)
In the next letter the fight at Sobraon is described:—
"On we went as usual in the teeth of a dreadful fire of guns and musketry, and after a desperate struggle we got within their triple and quadruple intrenchments; and then their day of reckoning came indeed. Driven from trench to trench, and surrounded on all sides, they retired, fighting most bravely, to the river, into which they were driven pellmell, a tremendous fire of musketry pouring on them from our bank, and the Horse Artillery finishing their destruction with grape. I had the pleasure myself of spiking two guns which were turned on us."
A rough baptism of war, this, for a young soldier! No wonder that when the excitement is over, for the moment he thinks he "has had enough of such sights." But the poetry of battle has entered into him, witness this glorious sketch of a deed done by the 80th Queen's (Staffordshire).
"I lay between them and my present regiment (1st E. B. Fusiliers) on the night of the 21st of December, at Ferozeshah, when Lord Hardinge called out '80th! that gun must be silenced.' They jumped up, formed into line, and advanced through the black darkness silently and firmly; gradually we lost the sound of their tread, and anxiously listened for the slightest intimation of their progress;—all was still for five minutes, while they gradually gained the front of the battery whose fire had caused us so much loss. Suddenly we heard a dropping fire,—a blaze of the Sikh cannon followed, then a thrilling cheer from the 80th, accompanied by a rattling and murderous volley as they sprang upon the battery and spiked the monster gun. In a few more minutes they moved back quietly, and lay down as before on the cold sand; but they had left forty-five of their number and two captains to mark the scene of their exploit by their graves."
And so in another month, when the war is over and the army on its return, he "catches himself wishing and asking for more."
"Is it not marvellous, as if one had not had a surfeit of killing? But the truth is that is not the motive, but a sort of undefined ambition.... I remember bursting into tears in sheer rage in the midst of the fight at Sobraon at seeing our soldiers lying killed and wounded."
His first campaign is over, and he goes into cantonments. The chief impression left on his mind is extreme disappointment with the state of the Sepoy regiments, which he expresses to Mr. Thomason:—