active 1835-1883 Thomas Faughnan

BOMBARDMENT—THE ASSAULT—GREAT REDAN—THE BATTLE—BALAKLAVA—HOSPITAL—MISS NIGHTINGALE—NURSES—PROMOTED—DISCHARGED FROM HOSPITAL—DEATH OF LORD RAGLAN.

After the contest for the rifle pits and Mamelon, on the 8th and 9th, a temporary lull took place in the siege operations, which was necessary, in order to make preparations for a yet more formidable assault on the Malakoff and Redan, of which the Mamelon and Quarries were mere advanced works. Therefore, on the morning of the 17th of June, 1855, the batteries of the allied armies before Sebastopol opened fire from the whole line of trenches, from left to right. The tremendous roar of big guns and mortars was terrible. What a pity that this bombardment had not been kept up until the general assault took place next morning, which Lord Raglan had intended; but in order to suit the wishes of General Pellisier, it was most unfortunate that his Lordship was induced to abandon his intention, instead of which the Russians were allowed to strengthen their batteries and reinforce them with troops owing to the lull in the firing. By the time the assault was made, they were well prepared to meet us.

June 18th. At 2 o'clock in the morning, the 4th division, under General Wyndham and Sir John Campbell, consisting of the 17th, 20th, 21st, 57th and 63rd Regiments, were marched down to the twenty-one gun battery; thence by files through zigzags to the Quarries, under a galling fire of shot and shell from the Redan, the 17th Regiment leading. As we reached the Quarries, the men got packed closely together in such a small space; and the Russians, having the exact range threw the shell right amongst our men, tearing them to pieces, throwing their legs and arms high in the air, as we stood there a target for the Russians waiting for the two rockets which was the signal from the French, when they got into the Malakoff. A shell struck Sergeant Connell of the Grenadier Company, tearing him to shreds, and throwing one of his legs fifty yards off, which was found afterwards and known by the regimental number on the sock. That leg was all of him that could ever be seen afterwards. Paddy Belton, the third man from me, got struck with a shell and torn to pieces, and several others. We had much better have tried to get into the Redan, than to stand there in suspense, a target for shell and shot. The sailors and 20th Regiment were told off to carry scaling ladders and wool packs; the latter were placed on the field, as cover for the riflemen, who were told off to cover the advance of the storming party, firing at the Russian gunners, through the embrasures. As the ladder party advanced toward the ditch of the Redan, a storm of grape, canister, rifle bullets and pieces of old nails and iron, was discharged from the big guns of the Redan, besides a cross fire from the curtains of the little Redan and Malakoff, causing great slaughter to the small party of sailors and 20th Regiment. I saw one of the ladder carriers knocked down from one end with a shot, when the weight of the ladder devolved on the other man who dragged it along the best way he could, till he was also knocked over. After hard tugging several had got as far as the abatis, where they had another delay; for during the night the Russians had repaired and strengthened it. This obstructed the advance of the ladder party, who used the greatest exertions to remove that barrier; all who were not shot worked through and deposited their ladders in the ditch of the Redan. Of those who fell, their ladders lay on the ground between the Quarries and Redan. The ladders were barely deposited in the ditch, when Lord Raglan gave the order for the advance of the storming parties, which consisted of the 17th, 21st, 57th and 63rd Regiments. This small party, led by Sir John Campbell, were to attack the left side of that immense and formidable stronghold, the great Redan.

The light division, led by the gallant Colonel Yea, consisted of the 7th, 23rd, 33rd, 34th, 77th and 88th Regiments, the right side, and the 2nd division the centre or apex. On the signal being given, Captain John Croker sang out at the top of his voice, "Grenadiers of the 17th, advance," when the company bounded over the parapet, like one man, led by their captain, followed by the other companies. When the Russians saw us advancing, they opened such a terrific fire of grape, canister and musketry, that it was almost impossible for any man to escape being hit. As we advanced up to the abatis, Sir John Campbell was shot, also my noble captain, John Croker, who was struck with a grape shot in the head, and fell.

LINES ON THE DEATH OF SIR JOHN CAMPBELL AND CAPTAIN JOHN CROKER.

Who fell leading the assault on the Great Redan, June 18th, 1855.

At this time, if the commander had supported us, we would have taken the Redan; but the few men who were sent out were shot down. Scarcely a man advanced as far as the Redan but got either killed or wounded. I got shot through the right arm, fracturing the bone. As I was coming back, covered with blood, for the wound was severe, I saw a man named John Dwyer, who got struck with a grape shot in the thigh. He said to me, "Oh, Faughnan, I am kilt entirely." He had scarcely spoken, when a round shot struck him again and put an end to his sufferings. I was conducted to the ravine, at the Woronzoff road, by a drummer, where the doctors and hospital orderlies were in their shirt-sleeves, hard at work, amputating legs and arms, and binding up wounds; it was fearful to see all the legs and arms lying around. After the doctor stopped the blood with a patent bandage, he dressed my wound, and sent me to hospital on an ambulance waggon with twelve other wounded men. During the assault on the Redan and Malakoff, the third division, under General Eyre, consisting of the 9th, 18th, 28th, 38th, and 44th Regiments, with a company of picked marksmen, under Major Felden, of the 44th Regiment, were pushed forward to feel the way, and cover the advance. At the signal for the general assault, the 18th Royal Irish, being the storming party, rushed at the cemetery, and got possession, dislodging the Russians with a small loss; but the moment the Russians retired, the batteries opened a heavy fire on them, from the Barrack and Garden batteries.

The 18th at once rushed out of the cemetery towards the town, and succeeded in getting into some houses; Captain Hayman was gallantly leading his company when he was shot. Once in the houses, they prepared to defend themselves. Meantime the enemy did their utmost to blow down the houses with shot, shell, grape and canister, but the men kept close, though they lost many men. They entered these houses about six o'clock in the morning, and could not leave them until eight o'clock in the evening. The enemy at last blew up many of the houses, and set fire to others. When our men rushed out of them the fire was now spreading all over. The 9th also effected a lodgment in some houses, and held their possession as well as the 18th. Why were these men not supported by large bodies of troops, so as to take the enemy on the flank, and round behind the Redan? Whose fault was it? Not the men's! Whose fault was it that the Redan was not breeched by round shot, and the abatis swept away before the assault was made? Not the men's. Whose fault was it that large supports were not pushed forward to the Redan, on the assault being made? Not the men's. Nothing can be compared to the bravery, daring and courage of the officers and soldiers of the British army, when they are brought properly into action; but when a handful of men are sent to take a stronghold like the Redan, armed as it was with all sorts of destructive missiles, and manned by an immense force, it could not be expected that men could do impossibilities. An armistice to bury the dead was granted by the Russians, and at 4 o'clock in the afternoon of the 19th, white flags were hoisted on the Redan and Malakoff, and in an instant afterwards burying parties of the French and English emerged from the trenches and commenced to carry off their dead and bury them in rear of the trenches, all in one grave, and in their clothes as they lay, except the officers who were taken to camp, and buried at Cathcart's Hill. Many wounded men were found close to the abatis, who were lying there thirty-six hours in their blood-stained clothes, in the scorching sun, without a drop of water to quench their thirst. Several had crawled away during the night, and hundreds had died of their wounds as they lay. After the burial was over, the white flags were lowered and firing commenced again once more. As the ambulance waggons moved along the Woronzoff road towards the hospitals, I could not help regretting our loss in officers and men, more especially Captain John Croker. He was a very strict officer, but a very kind gentleman; that is, he expected every man to do his duty faithfully and zealously, and beyond that, he was indulgent, generous, and always anxious for the comfort, happiness, and amusement of his company. A better, braver, or more dignified and gentlemanly officer, a kinder friend than Captain John Croker was not in the service, nor one more precise, more exacting, more awake to the slightest professional neglect of duty and his loss to the grenadier company, I am sure, will be deeply and sorely felt; he was a native of the County Limerick. On arrival at the hospital the doctor examined my wound, and found that the bone was fractured. He then set it, after taking out three splinters, dressed it, put it in a splint, gave me a glass of brandy, and put me to bed. The hospital was getting so crowded I was one of a party of wounded men who were sent down to Balaklava hospital on mules, next day at ten o'clock. The number sent down from the division was two hundred; each mule carried two patients; we sat back to back. On arrival at Balaklava hospital, we were told off to comfortable huts, each containing beds or cots. The wounded men were separate from the others; those very severely wounded were put to bed, and at dinner time one of Miss Nightingale's ladies came round, and spoke kindly to us, and examined our wounds, which we appreciated very much; and at tea time the same lady brought us arrowroot and port wine. Next morning the doctor dressed our wounds, and the lady brought us all sorts of delicacies. How different to the camp rations of salt junk and hard tack; and now we had a real lady to nurse us and attend to our wants. I thought that it was worth getting wounded to have such attendance. Nothing could surpass the kindness and attention which these ladies showed the wounded men; each of them has a certain number of patients under her care; and truly their kindness and unremitting exertions did more good to alleviate the pain and suffering of the wounded men than all the doctor's medicine. The weather was so very hot that my arm began to swell, so that the doctor got alarmed and consulted another doctor, when they decided to amputate my arm. I did not like the idea of losing my arm, but the doctors thought the swelling would get into my body; so when the nurse came round with the arrowroot in the evening, after she had washed and dressed my wound, she advised me not to have my arm taken off, but go down to a spring that gushed from a rock at the foot of the hill and there hold the wound under the stream as long as I could bear it, every day. I did as she told me. I then told the doctor that I would not have my arm taken off. I sat at the spring all day, except at meal times, and held my arm under the cold water that rushed out of the rock, and at the end of a week the swelling reduced. From that time it began to get better; I was in good health and was allowed to walk round the hills during the day. The head surgeon, Dr. Jephson, allowed us every privilege, and our nurse brought us note paper, envelopes and postage stamps, so that we could write home to our friends. The invalids were allowed to roam round the rocks all day between meal times. The hospital, which has been recently established, affords great comfort to our sick and wounded men, who will be saved the evils of a sea voyage to Scutari. It already presents the appearance of a little village with small patches of gardens in front of the huts; and its position on those heights, among the rocks, overhanging the sea and steep crags, which wind up past the old Genoese tower that stands at the entrance of Balaklava harbour, to the height of our camp over the sea, is strikingly picturesque. The judicious surgical treatment of my arm, and the careful manner in which the doctor's directions were carried out by our nurse, together with holding it under the stream of cold spring water, soon restored it to use again; several other men whose wounds were very severe were fast improving under this lady's care. Her assiduity and skill as a nurse, as well as the gentle kindness of her manner, fully warranted the greatest respect from her patients, who almost idolized her, whose presence in the hut stilled the pain of the wounded men. We often wondered whether she ever slept, as she seemed to be always attending one or another of her charge. Miss Nightingale had left Balaklava for Scutari a few days ago, so I had not the gratification of seeing that heroic lady, whose honoured name is often mentioned among the soldiers of the British Army with the most profound respect—that high born lady Florence Nightingale, the sick and wounded soldier's friend, whose name will be handed down to future generations, as the greatest heroine of her sex, who left her happy home with all the genial associations, comforts and social attractions which her birth, education and accomplishments so well enable her to appreciate; going out to a country wherein every turn spoke of war and slaughter; taking up her abode in an hospital containing none of her own sex save those noble ladies who accompanied her as nurses; watching and tending the sick from morning till night, among hundreds of wounded, sick, emaciated and hungry soldiers. All these things considered, there has indeed rarely, if ever, been such an example of heroic daring combined with feminine gentleness. Although there is a heroism in charging the enemy on the heights of Inkerman, in defiance of death and all mortal opposition, worthy of all praise and honour, yet the quiet sympathy, the largeness of her religious heart, and her wondrous powers of consolation, will ever be remembered with the love, thankfulness and affection of the soldiers of the British Army, and by no one more than T. Faughnan.

LINES TO MISS FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.

After it was ascertained at the regiment that I was not killed, as was reported, but only wounded, and in hospital at Balaklava, the commanding officer had me promoted to full corporal, and my promotion dated back from the first of April previous, which left me three months' back pay to draw. This news reached me a few days before I was discharged from hospital. On the 20th of August, I was discharged from hospital, and once more proceeded to join my regiment in camp. After thanking the Sisters for all their kindness and attention to me while under their charge, I bid them all good-bye, and started for the front with six others. On arrival at camp, the first I met was Major Gordon, who was very glad to see me. He said to me, "Faughnan, we all thought you were killed that morning. I am sorry I did not know that you were only wounded before I sent off the returns; I would have recommended you for the Victoria Cross—but it cannot be helped now, as I have recommended Corporal John Smith for it." I thanked him very kindly, and joined my company, who were all well pleased to see me.

There is a sad feeling among the officers and soldiers in camp, and deep regret evinced, at the loss of Lord Raglan, who departed this life at nine o'clock, p.m., the 28th June, 1855. His death appears to have at once stilled every feeling but that of respect for his memory; and the remembrance of the many long years he faithfully and untiringly served his country; and his frequent cheering visits among the men in camp, had endeared him to the army now before Sebastopol. A military procession was formed at four o'clock in the afternoon of the 3rd of July to escort the body to Kazatch Bay. As many as could be spared from duty in the trenches and, with safety to the camp, from every infantry regiment, formed an avenue from the British to the French headquarters, and from thence to Kazatch Bay, where the "Caradoc" was ready to receive her melancholy freight. The French troops formed a similar avenue. The cavalry and batteries of artillery were formed up behind the lines of infantry, and bands were stationed at intervals, and played the Dead March as the procession moved slowly along the route marked out by the lines of infantry. The coffin was carried on a gun carriage—the soldier's hearse. At each side rode the four commanders of the allied armies; then followed all the generals and officers who could be spared from trench duty. As the solemn procession moved along, minute guns were fired by the field artillery of the French. At Kazatch Bay, marines and sailors were formed up on the wharf; the naval officers were in attendance; and the body of Lord Raglan was placed on board of Her Majesty's Ship "Caradoc," and removed from that battle-field where both his body and mind had suffered for the last nine months, and where many hundreds of gallant officers lie, in their gore and glory, waiting for the sound of the last trumpet.