The British Expedition to the CrimeaRussell, William Howard, Sir
History
The British Expedition to the Crimea
Russell, William Howard, Sir
Crimean War, 1853-1856
Sir De Lacy Evans met with an accident on the 29th, which compelled him
to resign the command to Brigadier-General Pennefather. His horse fell
with him as he was going at a sharp trot; and the shock so weakened him
that he was obliged to go on board the _Simoom_.
The Turks, or, as they were called, the "Bono Johnnies," except by the
sailors, who called them "_No_ bono Johnnies," were employed in working
in the trenches. The first night in Captain Chapman's attack they worked
till ten o'clock at night, when a Russian shell came over. They ran
away, carrying a portion of our working and covering parties; they were
re-formed and worked till eleven o'clock, when they declared it was "the
will of Heaven they should labour no more that night," and, as they had
exerted themselves, it was considered advisable to let them go. They
were decimated by dysentery and diarrhoea, and died in swarms. They
had no medical officers, and our surgeons were not sufficient in number
for our army. Nothing could exceed their kindness to their own sick. It
was common to see strings of them on the road to Balaklava carrying men
on their backs down to the miserable shed which served them as a
hospital, or rather as a "dead-house."
A deserter from the Russian cavalry on the 30th said the Russians were
without tents or cover; their fare was scanty and miserable, and their
sufferings great.
The French batteries opened on the 1st of November. For an hour they
fired with vivacity and effect; one battery which enfiladed them on the
right was plied with energy, but the remainder, with the exception of
the Flagstaff redoubt, were silent. The Russians had about 240 guns in
their new works, reckoning those which had been subject to our fire. The
French had 64 guns in position, most of them brass twenty-fours, the
others thirty-twos and forty-eights, some ship's eighty-fours not
mounted. The French might be seen like patches of moss on the rocks, and
the incessant puffs of smoke with constant "pop!" rose along our front
from morning to night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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