The fierce battle on the plateau of Inkerman, in the early morning of November 5th, 1854, was the most desperate engagement of the whole war. It has, indeed, been described as “the bloodiest struggle ever witnessed since war cursed the earth.” The sixty thousand Russians who made a sortie out of Sebastopol were able through the heavy mists that hung over the field to take the British force of eight thousand men by surprise, and the fight at once became a hand-to-hand encounter rather than a pitched battle.

To call Inkerman the “soldiers’ battle” is to give our brave fellows who fought that day no more than their due. There was scant time for any plan of operations to be formed; as the guardsmen—Grenadiers, Coldstreams, and Scots—turned out of their tents at the warning bugle call it was to face immediately an enemy already entrenched behind battery and redoubt which belched forth shell and grape-shot incessantly. With bayonets fixed they went forward at the charge to silence those terrible flame-mouthed cannon and drive the Russians from battery and rifle-pit, and once among the foe British pluck could be relied on to carry the day.

What deeds of daring were done in the mist-shrouded glades and dells of Inkerman, in the valley and on the heights that commanded the British position, can never be fully chronicled. We know, however, how some of our gallant soldiers bore themselves, for in that titanic struggle acts of signal bravery were performed that were remembered afterwards and deemed worthy of recognition.

Charles McDermond and Thomas Beach, privates, made themselves conspicuous in saving the lives of two officers who were lying on the ground wounded and at the mercy of Russians, who never hesitated to kill a disabled man. So, too, did Sergeant George Walters of the 49th Regiment, who was more than a match for half a dozen Russians when Brigadier-General Adams got cut off. All three won their V.C.’s that day.

Of Lieutenant Mark Walker, of the 30th (Cambridgeshire) Regiment, a striking story is told. From out of the fog his men saw a great mass of Russians, two battalions strong, advancing towards them. They were ordered to open fire, but their rifles were wet and useless. Seeing this, Walker called on his men to fix bayonets and follow him, and, running forward, leaped over the low wall behind which the regiment had been lying hidden. This was enough for the 30th. With a wild cheer, they followed his lead, and flinging themselves impetuously against the enemy, a mere handful as they were, they actually sent the greycoats flying.

For this dashing feat, which turned what must have been an inevitable defeat into a victory, the lieutenant was mentioned in despatches and awarded the Cross. In after years he wrote himself General Sir Mark Walker, K.C.B.

But it was at the Sandbag Battery, whence the Russians had directed a deadly fire upon our troops, that perhaps the most brilliant feat of arms was performed. The Sandbag had the distinction of being fought for more than any other battery at Inkerman, changing hands several times, until at last it was held by the Grenadiers.

After the seventh fight round its parapet, the Russians succeeded in driving back their besiegers, and, exulting over their achievement, danced and sang with joy. This exasperated the guardsmen to fresh fury, and when Sir Charles Russell, their Captain, called on his men to follow him, the Grenadiers, followed by some Coldstreams and Fusiliers, sprang forward to storm the position. This time they were successful, driving the Russians before them.

How fierce was the contest will be understood when I mention that the guardsmen’s ammunition having run short, the men seized hold of stones and rocks and hurled these at their foes. The Russians responded in like manner until, as Sir Charles said in a letter home to his mother, “the air was thick with huge stones.”

Although the British were once more in the Battery, the worst was not yet over. Many bold Russians still hung on the parapet wall, or clung to the embrasures, firing down on those inside. The guardsmen, indeed, found that they were in a kind of trap, and cries of “Charge them!” arose. Then a soldier standing by Sir Charles Russell spoke up.

“If any officer will lead us, we will charge,” he said.

Up sprang Sir Charles, revolver in hand. “Come on, my lads!” he cried. “Come on! Who will follow me?”

The first to respond to their gallant captain’s call were Sergeant Norman and Privates Palmer and Bailey. Into the face of the opposing Russians the four dashed. Sir Charles’ revolver missed fire the first time, but pulling the trigger again he shot his man. At that moment a hand fell on his shoulder and the private behind him said, “You were nearly done for, sir.”

“Oh no,” answered the captain; “he was some way from me.”

The soldier indicated another Russian who had come up at Russell’s back. “His bayonet was all but in you when I clouted him over the head,” he said grimly.

Sir Charles saw how close he had been to death’s door. “What is your name?” he asked.

“Anthony Palmer, sir,” was the reply.

“Well, if I live through this you shall not be forgotten,” said Sir Charles; and he duly kept his promise, Palmer being made a corporal the next morning. He received the Victoria Cross for this act later on, when the Order was instituted, his name being among the first to be submitted.

Side by side Sir Charles Russell and Palmer (poor Bailey had already been killed, and of Norman there is no further mention) fought their way to a part of the ledge on the right, where they joined a small company of Grenadiers under Captain Burnaby. Here the fight waged more fiercely than ever, Burnaby especially distinguishing himself and winning the V.C. time and time again, though he never received it. The rush of the guardsmen was not to be withstood, and the Russians were eventually forced back.

Sir Charles was awarded the V.C. for this exploit at the Sandbag Battery, receiving it at the hands of his Queen in Hyde Park, three years later. He might have treasured another souvenir of the fight, also, in the shape of a long, black-stocked Russian rifle, which he tore from the hands of a soldier and kept until the end of the day.

Another officer of the Grenadiers who won similar distinction at the Sandbag Battery was Lieutenant-Colonel the Honourable Henry Percy (afterwards, Lord Percy). A number of his men at one time charged too far and became surrounded by the enemy. To add to their peril, they were without ammunition. Colonel Percy, coming to their assistance, successfully extricated them from this dangerous position and led them to where they could obtain cartridges. Just before this he had charged alone into the battery, only being repulsed by a great stone that struck him senseless to the ground.

Other eyes than those of his own men were upon him, the Duke of Cambridge himself noting the action and having some warm words of commendation to say afterwards.

There are one or two other Inkerman Crosses the stories of which remain to be told.

Lieutenant Henry Hugh Clifford won the right to add V.C. to his name by a deed of unusual daring. While in charge of a company of the Rifle Brigade he saw that a strong body of Russians was deploying to take one of our regiments in the rear. Without waiting to obtain an order to move from his position, he called to his men to follow him, and charged boldly into the midst of the Russians.

Clifford outdistanced his men by several yards, being mounted while they were on foot, and the consequence was that he found himself alone in the enemy’s ranks. The fierceness of his onslaught, and the belief on the Russians’ part that a troop of cavalry was behind him, gave him momentary advantage. The enemy wavered, and the Rifle Brigade men coming up at the charge, they soon after surrendered.

It was cut and thrust for Clifford while he was engaged on all hands at once, but in the thick of the fight he managed to save the life of a private in addition to protecting his own.

The exploit of Lieutenant Miller of the Royal Artillery bears some resemblance to the foregoing. An advancing body of Russian infantry bore down upon his gun battery when he was without any support. One last round was fired, and then bidding his men “Draw swords and charge!” he rode out under the hail of bullets straight into the enemy’s midst. The gunners followed to a man; some armed with swords, others with ramrods, and one of them—a famous boxer—relying only on his fists, with which he was seen to lay many a Russian low!

The greycoats got possession of the guns, for desperately as the artillerymen fought they could not stay the enemy’s advance, but it is satisfactory to know that the battery was retaken not long after and fought again by Miller and his gallant men.

Yet another hard fight at the guns took place at a battery where Sergeant-Major Henry was in charge. When the Russians were upon them, he and a private named Taylor drew their swords and made a desperate defence. Taylor was soon slain, however, together with nearly all the other gunners, and Henry badly wounded. A bayonet pierced his chest, another pinned him in the back, and he sank to the ground.

As was their wont, the Russians continued to strike at the helpless man as he lay at their mercy, the result being that when some time later Henry was rescued and found to be alive he had no fewer than twelve terrible wounds! He lived, however, to wear his Cross for Valour with his fellow-artilleryman, Miller, and to rise to the rank of captain.