The Book of the V.C. A. L. Haydon
the débris caused by a well-aimed shell greeted his eyes. Having made certain that he had not been deceived, Ross hastened back to the lines to spread the news. A party was at once formed to make another inspection of the Redan, Ross accompanying it and leading the way into the fortress, which was found absolutely deserted.
The Redan was forthwith occupied by our men, but the siege was now practically over. The Russians had retired to the north side of the harbour, evacuating the town.
So much for the “Royal Sappers and Miners”; we shall meet them later in a warmer clime, in India, doing their duty as faithfully and performing deeds every whit as heroic as any they did in the bleak wastes of the Crimea.
The heroes of the trenches and rifle-pits appeal especially to the imagination. The long vigil of the sentries as they paced to and fro while their comrades slept or worked in the trench at their back was an ordeal well calculated to try the nerves of even seasoned soldiers. A goodly proportion of the guardsmen, riflemen, and others who were detailed for this hazardous work were under fire in this campaign for the first time in their lives, but we never read that they flinched from the task imposed upon them.
However worn and weary the sentry might be, after a long day of digging and hauling sandbags, he knew he had to exert the utmost vigilance while on guard. Under cover of the darkness it was a favourite pastime with the Russians to make sorties in little parties of three and four from the fortress, in the hope of surprising the harassed sappers as they took a brief and well-earned rest.
So came three Russians one bitterly cold December night in 1854 to a small outlying picket of the 7th Royal Fusiliers. Private Norman, on single sentry-go, caught sight of the grey figures creeping stealthily towards him. Firing his rifle to sound the alarm, he rushed forward and leaped boldly into the trench where the enemy had taken cover. Two he seized and held prisoner, conducting them back to the British lines, but the third escaped. The plucky Fusilier got the Cross for this action when the time came to reckon up those who were most worthy of the honour.
But to narrate the several exploits of the heroes of the trenches is to tell much the same story over and over again. A score or more of gallant fellows—Moynihan, Coleman, Alexander, McWheeney (who was never absent for a single day from his duties throughout the war), and others—braved the Russian fire to dash out into the open and rescue from certain death some wounded officer or private who lay exposed on the field. The V.C. was often earned many times over by these.
Only a few stand out from the rest by reason of some special feature, such as Private John Prosser of the 1st Regiment, who, seeing a rascally soldier wearing the Queen’s scarlet in the act of deserting to the Russian lines, jumped out of his trench and chasing the fugitive under a heavy cross fire collared him and brought him back to camp—and, let it be hoped, swift justice. For this, and for rescuing a wounded comrade later on, Prosser gained his V.C.
There were, too, the “heroes of the live shell” to whom I made reference some pages back. Sergeant Ablett, of the Grenadiers, with Privates Strong, Lyons, Coffey, McCorrie, and Wheatley, received the decoration for this act of valour. Plump into the trench in which each delved dropped a fizzing shell, and without a moment’s hesitation the plucky fellow lifted it up and flung it over the parapet, to burst more or less harmlessly outside.
Sergeant Ablett’s shell fell right among some ammunition cases and powder barrels, and but for his prompt action a terrible explosion would have taken place with much loss of life. In Wheatley’s case the stalwart private attempted first to knock out the burning fuse, but failing to do this he coolly dropped his rifle and disposed of the unwelcome intruder with his hands.
Of the dashing sorties upon the Russian rifle-pits pages might be written. I have only space to tell of one such. It may well serve as characteristic of all. Privates Robert Humpston, Joseph Bradshaw, and R. McGregor of the Rifle Brigade are my heroes.
Far out on the Woronzoff Road, near some formidable quarries that had served the Russians well, was a strongly protected rifle-pit whence sharpshooters directed a deadly fire against a battery in process of formation by our men. It was essential that this “wasps’ nest” should be silenced.
Humpston particularly chafed over the seeming impossibility of doing this, and at last proposed to two comrades (Bradshaw and McGregor) that they should “rush” the pit. The two agreed, being much enraged, it is said, by the recent sniping of a bandsman who was a special favourite.
Accordingly, without asking for the leave which they knew would be denied them, the three stole out of camp one morning before daybreak, and crept unobserved towards the death-dealing pit. When within a few yards of it they gave a wild cheer and charged straight at the surprised Russians.
It was bayonet work, stab and thrust wherever a greycoat showed. How many they killed between them is not recorded, but the rifle-pit was cleared once for all and its destruction accomplished.
All three privates were awarded the Victoria Cross, and Humpston, as the leader, received prompt promotion, together with the sum of £5.
Before closing this chapter and passing on to tell of the Crimean naval Crosses, I cannot refrain from noting just two daring deeds that gained the V.C. for two gallant gunners during the operations before Sebastopol. They are written large in the annals of the Order.
Gunner and Driver Arthur, of the Royal Artillery, was in an advanced battery at an engagement near the Quarries, when the 7th Fusiliers fighting near by him ran out of ammunition. Arthur promptly volunteered to supply them, and although he had to cross repeatedly an open space on which a hot fire was concentrated, he carried the ammunition stores to the waiting men. But for his assistance the Fusiliers must have had to abandon the position they had captured.
Equally dashing was Captain Dixon’s defence of his battery. The latter was wrecked by a shell which, bursting in the magazine, blew it up and destroyed five guns, besides killing nearly all the gunners. It was a great event for the Russians, who cheered and danced with joy at the result of the shot.
But they counted without Dixon. The sixth gun of the battery, although half buried in earth, was still workable. With some help he got the gun into position again, loaded and sent an answering shot hurtling into the enemy’s battery, much to their surprise and discomfiture.
And it is to Dixon’s lasting glory that he worked that single piece until darkness ended the duel. The chagrined enemy peppered him without cessation throughout the rest of that day, but he bore a charmed life. The artillery captain rose to be a Major-General in after years, with C.B. after his name besides the letters V.C., while France honoured him by creating him a Knight of the Legion of Honour.
CHAPTER VI.
THE CRIMEAN CROSSES OF THE NAVY.
The record of our Bluejackets afloat and ashore in the Crimean War is one of which the senior service has good reason to be proud. While the siege of Sebastopol was in its early stages a British fleet sailed up to the Baltic, but without achieving much result, though a second expedition succeeded (in 1855) in doing considerable damage to the fortress of Sveaborg. At the same time another fleet harassed the enemy in the Black Sea and the Sea of Azov. On land the Naval Brigade did yeoman service at Inkerman, and in the protracted fighting around Sebastopol.
“Handy Man Jack” has never missed an opportunity of going ashore to have “some shooting with them redcoats,” in our big and little wars. From the days of Nelson, when they slung their 24- and 18-pounders on to Diamond Rock, to the recent Boer War, he has proved himself a rare fighter, quite as efficient with rifle and bayonet as his brother-in-arms. And the way he handles his field-guns must be the envy of the artillery.
In the history of the V.C. the Navy not only figures very prominently but enjoys the proud distinction of having the first Cross for Valour placed to its credit. The senior winner of the decoration is Rear-Admiral C. D. Lucas, R.N., and the scene of his exploit was Bomarsund, in the Baltic.
While