“My brigade had carried all before it”—Painful return to camp—General Gray’s dispatch

I NOW felt much refreshed, and was more pleased with my wound and my good luck than if I had altogether escaped, and, finally, I began to calculate on the honour and glory which must follow our victory, for I was told before I left the field of battle that my brigade had carried all before it. The new moon soon failed, and my escort and I were suddenly left in utter darkness, in a rough and undulating country, without a path or any other means to guide us. It was a bitter cold night, and I soon became alarmed lest we should lose our way and perhaps get into the enemy’s lines, and I was not less afraid that my doolie-bearers might bolt and leave me to my sufferings for the night. In this critical situation I called to Sergeant Quick to halt for a moment, and then told him and his men to keep a sharp look out on the bearers, and if they attempted to run, to fire upon them, and, if possible, to try and explain this to them. I then told him that if he heard or saw any suspicious-looking men to let me know at once, but not to attempt to fire until I ordered. I still retained my sword in my hand, and had perfect possession of my faculties, and, if attacked, my mind was fully made up to fight for my life.

We wandered and wandered for nearly an hour without any signs of our camp, or meeting any one, or knowing where we were going. I felt the piercing cold more and more, for there was a sharp frost, and I was sensible of losing blood fast through my bandages, for my doolie was well saturated with it. I confess I felt uneasy and alarmed, and in this state I now ordered Sergeant Quick to put me down so as to rest the bearers, and himself to go a little in front and to lie down and listen for any sounds which might reach him. He soon returned and said he could hear nothing, and proposed that we should go on to the top of a rising ground not far from us. We did so, and again I was put down, and the sergeant went out in front again to listen, returning soon with the joyful news that he heard the noise of wheels, as if of artillery or wagons. I then directed them to take me up and to make for that direction. My teeth were now chattering with the cold, and I felt weaker and weaker, but we managed to get over another half-mile or more of ground, and then I was put down once more, and the sergeant, as before, went to listen. He now returned in all haste, saying he could see numerous lights and was sure it was our own camp! This truly revived and cheered us all, and off we started almost at a trot, and, sure enough, in half an hour more we entered our camp, and soon after I was in my own tent and my own bed.

I was indeed thankful, but so cold and shivering that I asked a native hospital assistant, who soon found me, if a glass of hot brandy and water would do me any harm. He said not the least, so I immediately sent my kitmutgar to our mess-man to get one for me; it was brought, and I did enjoy it, and was just finishing the last drop, when in came our surgeon, Dr. Davidson, and on being told what I had done he instantly pitched into his hospital assistant, and in real anger threatened to destroy him, for giving me the means of causing inflammation and fever! When he got a little cool he removed my bandages, dressed my wounds, and again wrapped me up securely for the night, and put me to bed, leaving strict orders with my bearer and kitmutgar to remain with me, to give me nothing but barley-water if I wanted a drink, and to call him if necessary. I soon became warm and composed, and upon the whole had a good and quiet night, and slept at intervals soundly. Next morning Dr. Davidson examined and dressed my wound, and told me I had had a narrow escape, and that I was now doing well. He also informed me that poor Cobbam was dead; he had received no less than five grape-shot, three in his body and two in his arm, and died in a doolie soon after I saw him.

My wound was about three inches above the left groin, close to the hip, and happily without touching the bone; had it been one inch more to the right it would have been fatal, and instant death, but it pleased God to order otherwise, and I was then, and continue to this day, truly thankful. I said before, I was knocked clean over, and thought it was by a round shot. It struck me on the waist-belt, carrying parts of my belt, trousers, drawers, shirt, and flannel in with it, and the getting rid of these fragments day after day in threads and small particles afterwards caused me more pain than any sufferings from my wound. These grape-shots were made up in a canvas bag as large as the body of a bottle, with wooden bottoms, and tied at the top with strong cord. They contained from eighty to a hundred jagged balls, nearly twice the size of an ordinary musket-ball, and they were secured by cords wound crossways and about an inch apart on the bag. When discharged or fired the bag is burst at once, and the balls carry death and destruction, broadcast, wherever they fall. My belt being shot through, it dropped off, and with it I lost my scabbard, which I regretted then, and do to this day.

So ended in victory the battle of Punniar, on the night of the 29th of December, 1843. All the enemy’s guns were taken, and the survivors of their army fled in utter confusion and disorder, leaving all their baggage and stores and many arms behind. Strange to say, on the same day the main body of the Mahratta army was similarly defeated by Sir Hugh Gough and our headquarters forces at Maharajpore. This was the distant cannonade and firing which we heard before going into action.

For a day or two the doctor would not allow any one to see me, but soon after I had many visits from my brother-officers, and all to congratulate me on my escape, and, above all, on what they were pleased to call my “daring, dashing charge across the valley.” Every one spoke of this, and said it had decidedly crowned the success of the day.

At last General Gray’s dispatch appeared in the public papers, and after detailing at length the operations of the day, he concluded by saying that “the 2nd Infantry Brigade, under Brigadier Anderson, of H.M. 50th Regiment, by an able and judicious movement turned the enemy’s position, charged and took his guns, and so contributed to the final success of the day.” My officers were not even satisfied with this, and maintained that much more should have been said, and all blamed Captain Tudor, the A.D.C., who was known to have great influence with the general and to have had much to say and to do in writing the official report of the battle. In short, Tudor was everything with the general, even to the management of his household, and for this he was familiarly and privately called “the chief butler,” and during an angry discussion of this dispatch, our paymaster, Captain Dodd (who was a witty fellow), summed up by saying, “Yes, yes; the chief butler forgot Joseph!” It was also urged and maintained that, supposing I had failed in my dash into the valley and lost my brigade or been defeated, General Gray would then have blamed me for attempting to move without his orders, and perhaps brought me to a general court-martial. But all is well that ends well, and so I am satisfied, although I do confess I was, like my friends, a little disappointed at the time.

We remained some days in our encampment at Punniar, and then marched for Gwalior, where we found the rest of our field forces encamped under the Commander-in-Chief, Sir Hugh Gough. The Governor-General, Lord Ellenborough, and his numerous staff were also encamped with our army. Here we continued for nearly three weeks, during which time the most happy and social intercourse took place between the different regiments and corps. We all had our splendid mess marquees and full establishments, wines and luxuries of every kind, and nothing wanting, and public dinners every day followed as a matter of course. The Governor-General and Sir Hugh Gough had also their magnificent establishments, and had their tables crowded every day with guests from each of the regiments. I and many others were confined to our tents and to our beds from our wounds, and could not share in these festivities, but whatever was ordered and good for us we received regularly from our respective messes.

I had another advantage: my tent was pitched so near our mess marquee that I could almost distinctly hear every word that was spoken, and frequently my own name and health drunk with much cheering and applause. This acknowledgment may sound to others like vanity, but I still confess I was well pleased and proud of the good opinion of my brother-warriors.