Chapter IV: Battle of the Alma

On the night of the 19th, we were told that on the morrow we were to fight a severe engagement. We were aware that the Russians were strongly entrenched upon the Alma, and that we would have to carry that position or perish in the attempt. Many things arose in my mind as I thought on the morrow--that morrow which was to decide which should win the day. As I sat down to rest my weary limbs on this night before the battle, thought was busy within me--thoughts of friends and thoughts of home--of my childhood’s early days, when the frowns of the world did not darken my brow. This was indeed a time for reflection! But I was resolved; the die was cast; and the spirit of my forefathers aroused me from my reverie. All was silent as the grave. I slept soundly, and awoke early on the morning of the ever-memorable 20th of September. More than a thousand bugles sounded the rouse. We all stood to our arms; the sun in its splendour shining upon us, but shining, alas! upon some who were never more to behold it. Many a gallant fellow took that morning his farewell of that sun which he would never see setting.

We marched along for upwards of two hours without halting, and were by this time getting very close to the Alma, being distant from it only about four miles. We halted for a short time, killed some cattle, and gave an allowance to each man. Then the bugles sounded, “Stand to your arms,” and in an instant all were ready to advance. We could now see the enemy’s position in front of us, and the Russians in their dark solid squares ready to receive us. We put ourselves into order of battle, the French occupying a position on our right, and then advanced, with our bands playing, our colours flying, and our bayonets shining in the morning sun. A more beautiful sight I never beheld. When we got within range of the Russian guns, we got orders to “Halt; ball cartridge; load!” Now we were to be at it in right earnest. It was now close upon noon. The Russians having commenced a heavy fire, set a village right in front of us in a blaze. Still, we were nothing daunted, but took things very coolly.

At last, the word “Advance” was given. It was then that the Russian batteries opened a murderous fire upon us with their heavy guns, grape and cannister flying around us in all directions. Still we kept on, never flinching--“Onward to victory!” being our watchword. Our countrymen falling on our right and left roused us to daring; and

We scrambled through the clustering grapes,
Then came the battle’s brunt;
Our officers they cheered us on,
Our colours were in front;--
While fighting well, full many fell,
Alas! to rise no more,
On the battle-field of Alma,
Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.

Desperate was the struggle to obtain possession of the heights. At last, we heard our chief cry out, “Charge, Highlanders, charge!” and the war-note of the Camerons was heard high o’er the din of battle--

“Brave Cameron in his shock of steel
Dies like the offspring of Lochiel.”

The gallant Light Division, with their brave leader, General Sir George Brown, fought desperately: it was a hand-to-hand conflict for some time. The brave Guards, with their gallant leader, a Prince of the Royal blood, proved themselves worthy of the sons of Caledonia.

The French they took the right that day,
And flanked the Russian line;
While full upon their front they saw
The British bayonet shine.

We gave three cheers that dulled their ears
Amidst the cannon’s roar;
And we drove them off the Alma
In September fifty-four.

Thus was fought and won the ever-memorable battle of the Alma--a decided victory. The gallant Frenchmen shared along with us that day’s renown. In less than three hours we made the enemy fly. The Russians felt that they had men of a different stamp to contend with than the poor Turks. They continued their retreat until they reached the walls of their great stronghold, Sebastopol, and were themselves the bearers of their own defeat.

We felt much fatigued after our day’s work, and we felt hungry and thirsty. We found the Russians’ cooking utensils, and some firewood which they had left, very useful to us. We lighted great fires, and very soon satisfied our appetites, and quenched our thirst at the little river, which, a short time before, was coloured by the blood of the slain. Darkness came on; the weary were left alone to sleep, and the wounded to die. There we lay, side by side with the dead and dying!

The following day we had to remain and bury our dead; and I can assure my readers that I felt more upon this occasion than on the day of battle. The mind was calm and reflective now, when I looked upon the faces of those whom I knew so well when living--some of them the companions of my early days, and who only yesterday were alive and in the vigour of health; but ah! now I looked upon nothing but a piece of clay. Hundreds of my countrymen lay there weltering in their gore. I was on the working party, and counted one hundred bodies put into one grave; officers and privates there lay together; no coffin to enclose them, nor shroud to wind them into; they were buried in their regimentals. We had also to bury the Russians. After consigning all to their graves, we were ready to march at a moment’s notice. We bivouacked that night on the battle-field, and the next day, at an early hour, we marched on towards Sebastopol.