Chapter VII

CAPTURE OF THE MALAKHOFF AND REDAN--FALL OF SEBASTOPOL--PEACE PROCLAIMED--OUR RETURN TO ENGLAND.

The dawn of the 4th September arrived, and brought along with it the echo of a thousand cannon. Never, during my career as a soldier, have I witnessed anything like the opening of the bombardment on Sebastopol. We felt the very earth shaking underneath our feet at Kamara, a distance of eight miles. We continued this work for four days, and on the eighth an assault was found practicable. The Highland Brigade was ordered to march from Kamara to Sebastopol. We accordingly left Kamara at an early hour, and arrived on the heights about six o’clock A.M. After a hearty breakfast, we made all necessary arrangements, and were ready for the final attack. We could look upon Sebastopol from where we rested upon our arms, and as we saw regiment after regiment marching along to that assault, which in a few hours would decide the fate of Sebastopol, we took a last farewell of one another. We all knew what was before us, as we had already experienced it; but the die was cast, and we were resolved once more to brave every danger and win the victory. We felt confident under the watchful eye and experienced leadership of our gallant chief, Sir Colin. The hour for the assault approached, and we moved down to the advanced trenches. The cavalry were already mounted, and keeping back some stragglers who were anxious to see from a distance the result of the day’s fighting. The storming party of the French were already in position, the Malakhoff being their object of attack. The British storming party were also in readiness to attack the Redan, and the supports were hastily advancing to their places of trust. The day was beautiful, the sun shining in all his loveliness; not a whisper was heard; all was silent. The French were to fire a rocket at noon as a signal that the work of carnage was about to commence, and every one was watching for its ascent. The French are already scrambling up the steep and slippery sides of the Malakhoff; the tricolour is in an instant planted on its flagstaff; and the Russian Eagle is down; the enemy are taken by surprise. Overpowered in the Malakhoff they fly to the Redan. The conflict is desperate. The British can gain no footing in the Redan; their ranks are fast thinning; still, they fought as Britons always fight, and fought during the whole of that eventful day. The French kept possession of the Malakhoff. Great was the carnage on both sides. It was evident that by holding the Malakhoff, the key of Sebastopol was in our possession. The Russians were beginning to see that all was lost, that their once far-famed stronghold was in our possession, and they lost all hopes of winning back what was already in possession of the Allies. Horrid sights were now presented to my view! My comrades and companions in arms, with their pale and gory faces, and their mangled and bruised bodies, were lying around me. I could not help shedding a tear, and exclaiming with amazement, What am I that I have escaped untouched? Thoughts such as these arose within my beating heart, and I returned thanks to the Divine Preserver, who, by His providential care, brought me safely through the fight. Darkness came on, and all again was silent, except at times the dying moans of some brave fellow struggling with the King of Terrors. The night was very dark, and the Russians were deserting and leaving in our hands their once thought impregnable position. Fort after fort blew up into the air; the enemy retired to the north side; and the town of Sebastopol, after a siege of eleven months, was in possession of the Allied army.

The town was levelled to the ground;
The houses once so gay
In ruins lay; no shelter found
The heroes of that day.

The streets were sprinkled o’er with gore,
And there in thousands lay
Those who would trouble us no more:
Now stiff and lifeless clay.

In wandering through the town a few days afterwards, we observed there was scarcely a house but shewed the marks, and told plainly of the fatal effects of the siege. The streets were deserted, and none of the inhabitants were to be seen. We found a great deal of very heavy cannon, with large quantities of shot and shell, and all kinds of ammunition. The large military buildings alongside the docks were greatly damaged, and the shipping had suffered very severely. The Russians were in great force on the north side of Sebastopol, and appeared to be preparing their winter quarters. For our army huts were arriving daily from England, and stores of all descriptions were getting plentiful. We employed our time in erecting houses and making every preparation for the coming winter. The Highland Brigade was busy at Kamara building huts and cooking-houses; firewood was cut and stored away, and everything that was necessary for the coming winter was provided.

We now found plenty of time for amusements of all kinds--jumping, putting the stone, and racing. National games were, of course, the order of the day. Happy change! The whole of the army was also in a very good state of health, and, comparatively, there was very little sickness. We had abundance of food and good clothing. Winter came on, bringing snow and sleet with it, but we were prepared to meet it--thanks to Lord Panmure’s skilful and well-arranged plans for the comfort of the soldier. The second winter passed over, and everything went on smoothly. There was now some talk of a conference; an armistice was agreed on, and, of course, hostilities ceased for a time. The little stream of the Tchernaya separated us from the enemy, and we frequently went along the banks of that stream to have an exchange of civilities with the Russians. Such was the way we were spending our time when the intelligence arrived from England that peace was proclaimed, and that the troops were to evacuate the Crimea. We felt glad that we were again to see our native land; but, alas! how few were to return of the number that left in 1854. Of my own regiment there were upwards of five hundred lying mouldering in the dust on the plains of the Crimea.

Our gallant chief, Sir Colin, came to bid farewell to the Highland Brigade, and addressed it somewhat to the following effect:--“Soldiers of the 42d, 79th, and 93d old Highland Brigade! with whom I have spent the early and perilous part of the war, I now bid you a long farewell! I am now getting old, and may not be called any more to serve my country; but should another war arise, the Highland Brigade will prove themselves soldiers, as they have already done in this war. Your courage and daring on the battle-field shall be handed down from generation to generation; and your children’s children shall yet tell of how you fought and won the Alma. Soldiers! it is to your bravery and daring I now wear on my breast those laurels which you now see; and wherever I hear the sound of the pibroch the recollections of former days will arouse within me a feeling of admiration and pride. Brave soldiers! kind comrades! farewell!”

We embarked at Balaclava on board the steam-ship _Victoria_, and landed at Portsmouth early in July, after an absence of two years and two months.