INKERMANN, BATTLE OF.—One of the most brilliant achievements in the history of the British Army. Fought on the 5th of November, 1854. “Two days after the repulse of the enemy’s sortie, by Sir De Lacy Evans’ division, General Dannenberg, with a large Russian reinforcement, arrived at Baktchi-Serai from Odessa, which place he left on the 19th of October. In order that his men might reach the scene of action with the greatest practicable rapidity, and in good condition, every available cart and rustic conveyance was pressed into the service. They were thus comparatively fresh and vigorous after so rapid a march. On the 3rd of November, one division, under General Soimonoff, entered Sebastopol. The remainder, under General Pauloff, encamped at Tchorgoun, a short distance to the east.
Strengthened by this considerable reinforcement, the Russian Generals decided upon an attack upon the position of the Allies in such strength that it should be scarcely possible to make an effectual resistance. The Grand Dukes Michael and Nicholas, sons of the Emperor, had arrived at Sebastopol, with the purpose of encouraging the garrison by their presence, and witnessing the total defeat of the haughty invaders. On Sunday, the 4th of November, solemn religious services were held in the town. Patriarchs and Bishops of the Greek Church addressed the soldiery, urged upon them the importance of the trust which their good father the Czar had thought proper to impose upon them,—assured them that death in his service was only the road to a martyr’s crown, and that the English were monsters of cruelty, who committed the most atrocious barbarities upon all prisoners of war. Finally, they said the British camp abounded in treasure, one-third of which should be the property of the soldiery. Incited by these promises,—stimulated by extra rations of ardent spirits,—and fanatically believing that the destruction of the English heretics would be a work of acceptable piety, the Russian soldiers mingled shouts[158] of devotion to the Czar and death to the Allies, and prepared themselves for the encounter of the morrow.
The plan of attack, as decided upon by the enemy’s commanders, was shortly this:—The extreme right of the British position, near the bridge which crossed the Tchernaya at Inkermann, was notoriously our weak point. Sir De Lacy Evans, whose division occupied this position, had repeatedly called Lord Raglan’s attention to this vulnerable point; but so laborious were the duties devolving upon our men, and so extended the line of defence, that it was impossible to spare either men or guns for the establishment of works. The French, whose large numbers and secure position on the western plateau left them a far smaller share of the duty, had been early applied to for assistance, but had hitherto refused. Sir John Burgoyne had called the special attention of General Biot to the danger of leaving exposed such an avenue to the camp of the Allies; but the French commander seems to have been at this time but little disposed to relieve the English of any of the toil or danger they had so willingly undertaken, but which proved too much for their effectual performance. At length the English, by almost superhuman exertions, had erected a small work on the brow of the hill, intended to carry two guns, but they had not yet been mounted.
Towards this point, then,—of the unprotected nature of which the Russians were perfectly well aware, thanks to the newspaper correspondents, who, in their anxiety to satisfy the curiosity of the readers at home, contrived (unwittingly, we believe) to afford the enemy a very great deal of valuable information,—the attention of the Russians was naturally directed. It afforded a convenient access to the very centre of the English lines, and would, in all probability, offer but a feeble resistance. It was arranged that Gortschakoff should, at an early hour on the morning of the 5th, make a threatening demonstration in front of Balaklava, apparently renewing the attempt of the 25th of October. This would have the effect of drawing a considerable portion of the armies to the defence of that important position, thus leaving the front comparatively unprotected. On the extreme left of the line, General Timofeyer would also make a feigned attack, occupying the attention of the French. The actual assault was to be made by the recently-arrived army of General Dannenberg. The two divisions already named, according to the Russian computation (most probably understated), were of the following strength: General Soimonoff’s corps consisted of three regiments of the 10th division, three of the 16th, and one of the 17th, amounting altogether to[159] 16,200 bayonets, with twenty-two heavy and sixteen light guns; that of General Pauloff, numbering 13,200 bayonets, was composed of three regiments of the 10th division, two Chasseur regiments of the 18th, with twelve guns. The two corps thus numbered 29,400 bayonets, and fifty guns. Soimonoff was ordered to march from the Malakoff Tower in a westerly direction, until he reached the Kilen ravine, under cover of which he was to penetrate into the English centre on the western side of the ravine. Five o’clock in the morning was fixed as the time for the assault. Pauloff’s division was to cross the Tchernaya, force the English lines at the unprotected point, and cutting their way through the second division join Soimonoff in the main attack, when General Dannenberg, with the remainder of the army, would appear upon the scene, and, it was fondly imagined, give the coup de grace to the invaders. Such was the plan of the Russian Generals, carefully matured, and kept profoundly secret from the Allies. We shall see the result.
All night the bells of Sebastopol rang loudly. The heavy November mist obscured the sound; and most probably, the English soldiers, far from considering the clashing from the belfries as the signal for the gathering of troops, imagined that one of the multitudinous festivals of the Greek Church was being celebrated with unwonted ostentation. Towards morning the mist thickened, and it was impossible to discern any object at above a few yards’ distance. Taking advantage of the fog, the Russians conveyed their guns to the lofty eminences beyond the Tchernaya, facing the British position, and by almost incredible efforts, in a very brief time, had established a formidable battery in a most commanding situation. About four o’clock in the morning, intelligence arrived at head-quarters that Balaklava was again threatened. General Bosquet was immediately on the alert, with his French chasseurs, and the indomitable Sir Colin Campbell was fully prepared to meet any force which might be despatched against him. It was no part, however, of the enemy’s tactics seriously to attack this position. His purpose was fully served by the attention of the French being attracted to this point, and the English being diverted from the real point of assault. About five o’clock enormous bodies of Russian infantry, under cover of the heavy fog, silently passed the bridge across the Tchernaya, and stealthily crept up the hill towards the weak point of the English position at the newly-erected two-gun battery. The pickets of the 55th, on duty at this spot, suddenly found themselves in presence of an over-whelming force of the enemy. Desperately fighting, the courageous little band slowly yielded[160] ground, contesting every step, and retreating up the hill towards the redoubt. Their smart firing, in reply to the tremendous volleys of the enemy’s musketry, which were now poured into the handful of men, aroused the camp, and indicated the real nature of the enemy’s plans. General Pennefather, who commanded the Second Division, in the absence of Sir De Lacy Evans (who was compelled by the debilitated state of his health to leave his active duties, and retire on board one of the ships in the harbor), immediately hastened to the scene; and the men of his division, hastily shaking off their sleep, quickly responded to the alarm. In a few minutes all was bustle and activity. Officers and men, alike hurried forward, some half-dressed, all unbreakfasted, many suffering from sickness, and none free from the effects of privation and over-toil. From the Second Division the intelligence of the attack was quickly carried to the camps of the First, Fourth and Light Divisions, and the Duke of Cambridge, Sir George Cathcart, and Sir George Brown, instantly put themselves at the heads of their men, and lost no time in marching to the scene of action.
When the pickets were driven in, they retreated to the little two-gun battery, and fired through the embrasures at the masses of the enemy, now advancing in dense columns to the attack. The Russian batteries on the opposite hills opened a tremendous fire upon them, and the guns of the town and the ships in the harbor threw enormous volleys of shell and shot right into the camp of the Second Division, tearing up the ground, and destroying the tents. For a few moments the gallant fellows of the 51st held their ground, but no courage could long contend against such fearful odds. In spite of their fire, much too feeble to stay the advance of such massive columns, the Russians advanced at a rapid pace up the hill, the few shots of the undaunted defenders of the redoubt telling fatally in their ranks. Almost before the English could reload, the Russians were swarming around the battery, and leaping over the embrasure. Many were hurled back again by the bayonets of the undaunted picket, who at length, borne down by the weight of the attack, were driven from the work, and retreated down the hill. The 41st and 49th now came into the action, and forming into line, charged the advancing Russians, and drove them back to the redoubt. Again was this little work the scene of a tremendous contest. The two regiments discharging a brisk volley from their Minié rifles, levelled their bayonets, and driving the enemy pell-mell before them, hurled them out of the battery, and once more the English were masters of the position. The retreating Russians[161] were speedily met and reinforced by other columns of infantry, and then doubled in numbers, again advanced to the attack. The fire, too, from their batteries, poured unceasing destruction into the thin ranks of the English regiments. Already the dead and dying were lying thick around, and many of the bravest and best among them had fallen beneath the intense fire of the enemy. The Russian masses literally surged up the hill, and hurled themselves once more at the devoted little band. A fearful struggle followed. Hand to hand was the combat waged, the bayonet doing deadly havoc upon friend and foe. In vain the brave defenders of their post struggled against the unequal odds; in vain the officers heroically exposed themselves and encouraged their men to the desperate encounter; and in vain the men themselves emulated their leaders’ undaunted courage—the enemy, so immensely superior in numbers, drove them, after a sanguinary defence, from the work, and pursued them, desperately fighting in their retreat, towards the camp of their division.
The alarm had now spread throughout the entire camp, and even reached Balaklava, rousing the sleepers on board the ships in the harbour. The heavy booming of the cannon told how fierce was the contest. Sir De Lacy Evans forgot his sickness, and leaving the bed to which for many days he had been confined, insisted on being rowed ashore; and mounting a horse, which he was almost too weak to guide, started for the field of battle. Lord Raglan, with his staff, had by this time reached the spot, and at once saw the critical position of the Allies; and saw, too, the blunder which the enemy had committed. General Soimonoff, who should, upon issuing from the ravine near Careening Bay, have turned to the right and attacked the centre of the English line, weakened by the tremendous assault on the extreme left of the position, mistook the direction and marched to the left, thus reaching the ground occupied by the Second Division, and embarrassing General Pauloff’s operations by permitting the concentration of the English forces to repel his assault, instead of diverting their attention by an attack at a comparatively remote point. For a General of Raglan’s experience to take advantage of this blunder was an easy task. He immediately made such arrangements of the small means at his command as would enable him to present two fronts of resistance on the threatened points, while preserving the solidity of his position.
The 20th and 47th regiments now arrived to the assistance of the gallant 49th and 41st, driven with such dreadful slaughter from the two-gun[162] battery. The brave Colonel Carpenter, of the 41st, had fallen pierced with many bullets; and the blood-thirsty Russians, with that tiger-like ferocity which has made the day of Inkermann so fearfully memorable, mutilated the senseless form of the grey-headed old warrior, clubbing their muskets, and beating him on the face till it was almost impossible to distinguish his features. Covered with blood, frightfully mangled, and recognised only by his uniform, the colonel was at length, when the enemy retreated, found by his men, and borne, still breathing, from the field, to linger for a few days in acute agonies, and then to breathe his last. Amidst a hurricane of bullets from the Russian troops, and exposed to a deadly storm of missiles from the enemies’ batteries, the 20th and 47th fearlessly charged the opposing masses, and endeavoured to take the redoubt. They were successful in the attempt. The Russian lines trembled before their impetuous onset. The levelled bayonets, borne onwards by the resistless vigour of Englishmen, now maddened by the excitement of battle, cheered by their officers, and with the memory of Alma, swept down the hordes of irresolute Muscovites, and with a ringing cheer, the victorious Britons were once again in the earthwork. There, indeed, was a sight to rouse their hearts—if, indeed, further stimulant were needed—to deeds of vengeance. Not one of those who in the previous attacks had fallen wounded was now alive. The remorseless Russians—assassins rather than soldiers—had bayonetted every one who showed signs of life. The little battery was choked with heaps of dead. Englishmen and Russians lay as they fell stiff in their blood, and disfigured by the agonies of death. Not one was left to tell his victorious comrades, who leaped shouting into the redoubt, how bravely their companions in arms had disputed its possession, how dearly the enemy had purchased a temporary success, or how basely that success had been consummated by the most brutal murder of wounded and unarmed men. But the Russians were not disposed to submit to the loss of this important position which they had made so many efforts to retain. Fresh legions were launched against the two regiments who had been thus far successful; and in irresistible strength, still another attempt was made to regain the post. Against such numbers it was impossible to contend successfully. The brave holders of the redoubt fought desperately, with that unyielding pertinacity for which the British infantry, beyond any soldiery in the world, is distinguished. But the shot from the batteries on the hills beyond the river swept through their lines; on every hand brave fellows fell pierced with bullets, or mangled by exploding shells.[163] The enemy was tenfold their number, and swept on like a torrent against their feeble defence. After a brief but most heroic struggle, the noble remnant of the gallant 20th and 47th yielded to a force they could no longer withstand, and retreated to the main body, leaving the Russians for the third time the masters of the two-gun battery.
The masters, it is true; but not the undisputed masters. A yet bloodier contest was to be waged for its possession—a contest which should make that small unfinished work, on which as yet no gun had been mounted, renowned throughout Europe. By the time that the 20th and 41st had been driven back, as we have just recorded, the Duke of Cambridge had reached the scene of action with the brigade of Guards—those renowned soldiers whose bayonets had carried the heights of Alma, and whose prowess was a theme of terror in the Russian camps. No soldier who had shared in or witnessed that tremendous fight could forget the terrible onslaught of those bear-skinned warriors, when the choicest troops of the Czar were trampled under foot, or scattered like chaff before their irresistible charge. The Coldstreams, no longer the magnificent battalion which a few months before left the shores of England, but reduced by the casualties of war and sickness to a few hundred badly fed and miserably-clothed men, though retaining all the ancient courage, heightened, indeed, by the hardships they had endured and the memory of their former achievements,—advanced in close ranks, at a rapid pace and with fixed bayonets, against the living wall of the Russians, who held the crown of the hill. Though the enemy were as ten to one, they yielded and broke before that matchless onset. Scattering the foe before them, the valiant Guardsmen swept like a hurricane into the battery, and the defeated Russians were precipitated, a flying and disordered mass, down the hill. The Coldstreams had well avenged their comrades’ fall, but they had not yet gained an undisputed success. On came fresh battalions of the Russians. The flying regiments were mingled with, or sought refuge behind the advancing legions. Again the dense mass struggled up the hill, and again did it devolve upon English valour to defend the post which had been so dearly won. Not less than 6000 Russians advanced in a compact mass towards the two-gun battery. The defenders did not muster more than as many hundreds. Nothing daunted, they fired through the embrasures and from the brow of the hill smart volleys; and when their ammunition failed, as at length it did, many hurled stones at the enemy. But moment by moment the advancing host drew nearer and nearer. The summit of the hill is reached,[164] they surround the fort, leap over the earthworks, and in an instant there is a hand to hand struggle, such as, perhaps, was never excelled in modern warfare. They are repulsed—literally dashed down the hill. Twice the assault renewed; the second time they are again defeated; the third time they are once more in the battery. Bayonet crosses bayonet in rapid thrusts, fearful shrieks of agony are mingled with the shouts and curses of infuriated men, the floor is cumbered with the fallen and slippery with blood; the gallant Coldstreams are alone and unaided, and every moment fresh foemen rush into the deadly mêlée. Hundreds fall before the fatal bayonets of the dauntless Guards—their places are supplied by hundreds more, fresh and unwounded. In front, on either side, they swarm around, ferocious and malignant. Back to back, the English heroes meet their tremendous charge. In all the horrors of that scene, amid all the carnage which su............