Campaign in the Crimea

War against the Russians from a British infantry officer

When Peard undertook his recollections of his campaign in the Crimean War, he was motivated by the conviction that at that time there were no first hand accounts available to the public written by serving soldiers. Time may have rectified that impression, but this certainly means that Peard's was one of the earliest such accounts to be published. It is a riveting account by a front line officer and within it's pages the author takes us through the battle of the Alma, Balaclava, the siege of Sebastopol and Inkerman. Many interesting details of life on campaign and in the camp are included as well as eyewitness reports of the famous 'Charge' and the 'thin red line'.

The enemy, seeing that we intended to cut off their right, retired from No. 1 Redoubt, of which the left wing of the 20th Regiment took possession. Seeing the steady advance of the Allies, they abandoned No. 2 Redoubt, and they blew up and abandoned No. 3 also, but they unfortunately carried off seven out of nine guns of ours from the batteries. One gun was left in the ditch outside No. 1 Redoubt, which was afterwards dragged into the battery again. The Fourth Division Artillery was outside Redoubt No. 1, and we occupied the ditch; and they fired on Redoubt No. 2, which also sent shell over our heads, and a piece of one struck the staff of the Queen's colour which I carried.<br>
Their rifles were also very busy in that redoubt, and the conical bullets whizzed past us whenever we showed our heads. One bullet came so near me on this occasion, that I took the trouble to pick it up and keep it, in token of respect for its not becoming better acquainted with my head. From the position in which we were in the trench, we could plainly see the field of battle lying between us and the Russian cavalry. The infantry had retired amongst the brushwood on the heights, and they occupied the village to the south-east of Balaklava, in front of us.<br>
From our elevated situation I witnessed many heart-rending scenes through my glasses. Poor troopers were standing about all over the plain, wounded; others were to be seen galloping into camp at an earlier part of the day, by twos and threes, in regular order, as if in the ranks. One poor animal came cantering along with his hind-leg broken, and swinging round and round at every stride. Others would be seen with both hind-legs broken, endeavouring to rise from the place where they fell. I shall never forget one scene, so dreadful, and yet one which would have made a splendid study for an artist. It was a wounded Scots Grey, who passed us, his horse led by a companion. All looked so sad: even the poor horse, though not wounded, bowed his head, and appeared to sympathize in his master's sufferings. The poor fellow seemed to be in a dying state, and as he leant on the pommel of his saddle, his pale and agonized face could just be observed under his bear-skin; the horse's shoulder was covered with blood, and yet the poor creature seemed to know with what care he ought to carry his wounded master.<br>
We could plainly see the Cossacks on the field of battle, amongst the dead and wounded, and now and then their gory lance would be thrust through the body of some wretched sufferers, who had in vain lifted up their hands, expecting aid instead of destruction from these savages.<br>
The servant of an officer who was ill at Balaklava, walked up from the field of battle, where he had picked up a Cossack's sword, and shortly afterwards took a poor wounded officer on his back to Balaklava. On the way they were fired at by a wounded Russian. Upon this he deposited his load on the ground, and, walking up to the villain, lopped his head off, and proceeded on his way with his burden.<br>
We watched with the greatest interest a wounded dragoon, who was creeping on his belly from the battle-field, near the Russian horse, to us. Every now and then he would halt and hold up his sword. He was presently spied by the Russian sharpshooters in the redoubt near us, and they opened a sharp fire on the poor fellow. He still persevered, and was shortly seen by a sailor, who had a brass helmet on his head, and was walking about picking up trophies, with a friend, quite heedless of their rifles. They immediately went to his rescue, and carried him on their shoulders some little distance, when he was put on a horse, with great difficulty, and brought into our lines. I do not know when my heart felt more relieved. A brother officer, M——, was busy in shooting wounded horses which were near our redoubt; and Captain B—— and W—— were rendering all the assistance in their power to a wounded Russian officer, by sewing up and washing his wounds, but he died that night, chiefly from the intense cold.<br>
Some swords belonging to the Scots Greys were picked up; one I saw was broken off within six inches of the hilt, and another was complete, only the handle was covered with blood and brains, and a piece of a skull had adhered to it.