CHAPTER XI.

COLONEL BELL AND THE VICTORIA CROSS.

In a previous chapter we traced the history of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers (23rd Regiment). We showed how they won their laurels in Egypt, in Spain, in the West Indies, in the Pyrenees, and at Waterloo. We described the act of humanity by which Corporal Shields and Dr. Sylvester earned the Victoria Cross, and the gallant deed by which Sergeant (now Captain) Luke O’Connor attained the same honourable distinction. But the roll of heroes among the Royal Welsh is not yet exhausted, and we are now about to show how Colonel (then Captain) Bell conducted himself with such gallantry as to justify his sovereign in bestowing on him the Cross of Valour. Mr. Desanges’ picture No. IX., which has been faithfully copied by our artist, introduces Captain Bell in the act of capturing one of the enemy’s guns at the battle of the Alma. In order to understand this event, it is necessary to glance briefly at the position which the Royal Welsh occupied during the battle. The soldiers of No. 1 company, under the command of Major Lysons, had the honour of being the first British troops that landed in the Crimea. As soon as they had disembarked, Brigadier Airey sent them to attack some arabas, or Russian waggons, which were seen in the distance; on coming up to the Cossack escort, they fired upon them and put them to flight. This was the commencement of the campaign. Fourteen arabas, full of firewood and fruit, with their drivers and bullocks, remained in the possession of the Royal Welsh, and were the first waggons used in the Land Transport of the army.

From the period of disembarkation till the battle of the Alma, the Royal Welsh had no opportunity of distinguishing themselves. In this engagement they formed part of Sir George Brown’s right brigade, which was under the command of General Codrington, an officer of the Guards, who, having visited the East from motives of curiosity, was induced to accept this important charge. The only orders he had received from Sir George were to advance with his brigade till he had passed the river which flowed through the valley at the foot of the heights where the Russians were drawn up. When a general has confidence in his subordinates, he does well to allow them a certain freedom of action, as it is impossible to anticipate all the eventualities which may occur on the day of battle. The left brigade of the Light Division was under the command of General Buller, who is said to have received the same instructions as Codrington. The two brigades advanced steadily in the direction of the river, the bank of which, on the Russian side, varied from eight to fifteen feet in height, but was not so steep as to prevent our men from obtaining a footing on it. The river itself was of no great depth, but the bank on the side of the allies was covered with gardens and vineyards, which our men could not cross without getting into disorder. As they advanced they became exposed to the fire of the enemy, who had erected on the opposite heights two batteries mounted with brass guns which swept the plain. When the Welsh Fusiliers and their companions of the right were brought within long range, they deployed and halted. It was a bright, sunny day—not a cloud in the sky, nor a breath of air stirring—and our men, suffering from thirst and fatigue, helped themselves to clusters of grapes, and lay down leisurely on the ground, careless of the balls which were whizzing past them and occasionally thinning their ranks. The vineyards afforded them a scant shelter from the fire of the enemy; but when the final order was given to advance, our men were thrown into some confusion, owing to the broken ground, overgrown with the tendrils of the vines, on which they had to form. Codrington’s brigade was the first to advance, carrying with them the 19th Regiment, who were only too glad to place themselves under the guidance of such an impetuous leader. The Russians poured on them the fire of all their batteries, and many fell before they could find cover beneath the steep bank on the opposite side. There they halted to reform, and at this moment three Russian regiments advanced, and poured down a vertical fire upon them from the summit of the bank. A leader less resolute than Codrington might have given orders to retreat; but it was his first battle, and the gallant guardsman was bent on winning his spurs. He rode his small Arab charger round to a spot where the bank was less precipitous, and with some difficulty contrived to reach the summit. It was unfortunate that, instead of the plumed hat of a general, he wore an officer’s foraging cap, and, being recently appointed to the command of the brigade, few of his men recognised him. Still, the sight of an officer forcing his way almost alone up the heights was enough to inspire his men with the desire of following, and Colonel Yea, of the 7th Fusiliers, rode his cob up the steep bank, encouraging the soldiers, by his voice and example, to come on.

It was impossible for the regiments to form on the broken ground which they occupied, but the whole of Codrington’s Light Division cleared the bank, carrying with them the 19th and 95th Regiments, who were only too eager for the fray. These brave fellows were the first to begin the battle of the Alma. If the Russians had had the courage to charge them as they appeared on the summit of the bank, broken and breathless, they might have rolled them back into the river below; and the fate of battles often depends on a first success. A column of the enemy descended the hill with this intention, and advanced towards the ground occupied by the 19th Regiment and some of the left companies of the 23rd, who opened such a smart fire upon them that they retreated, and found shelter in a hollow near the Great Redoubt. Having thus got quit of their assailants, they joined their comrades, who were pressing on towards the Great Redoubt in broken columns and much disorder. As yet the Russian battery was silent, but when our men had reached some three hundred yards from it, first one gun and then another began to fire upon them with round shot, grape, and canister. They were crowded so closely together that every round shot which pierced their ranks cut its way through, leaving a long furrow of dead behind. But the open space thus left was at once filled up, and our men pressed forward as gallantly as before in the direction of the Great Redoubt. The slaughter was fearful, and none suffered more than the 23rd, who had twelve of their officers and half of their rank and file smitten down before they reached the guns which were dealing death amongst them. Their gallant leader with the foraging cap and the eye-glass was still in front, and wherever he went they were prepared to follow. A sort of half-cry rose from their lips as his horse fell and a cloud of dust concealed him for a moment from their view; but it was only for a moment. Mounting his horse, he turned gaily to his followers, and said, “I am all right, lads. Twenty-third, be sure I’ll remember this day.”

It was such a day as can never fade from the memory of those who took part in it; but the Welsh Fusiliers have special reason to remember it. Their ranks were thinned, but they still pressed forward, and followed their gallant leader as he leaped his horse into the midst of the enemy’s works to show his men there was no danger. The Russians were seized with a sort of panic; the artillerymen began to limber up their guns and to fall back upon their reserves, which were posted in the rear. A sort of cry of disappointment rose from our men at the thought that there was no more fighting to be done—“The Russians are retreating; they are limbering up. Stole away! stole away!”

But the fighting was not over; there was still bloody work to be done on the heights of the Alma. The enemy’s artillery continued their fire as they retreated, and many of our men were struck down as they approached the empty embrasures. The first to mount them was young Anstruther, who carried the colours of the Royal Welsh. Though an officer of that regiment, he was a Scotchman by birth, and his conduct that day will invest a name already distinguished in the annals of the North with a halo of glory. He was a mere boy, fresh from school, but he was determined to do some deathless deed on this the morning of his first battle. Leaping and running are favourite pastimes in Fife, as in every Scottish county, and none could run better than the light, boyish figure that held aloft the colours of the Royal Welsh, and pressed forward before all the others. He was the first who gained the redoubt, and, planting the butt-end of the colours in the centre of the parapet, he stood for a moment clutching it in his arms, breathless and silent, as if surprised at his own audacity. There were hundreds of hearts beating high with admiration as they saw the slim figure of the Scottish youth on the summit of the parapet. Alas! it was seen there only for a moment. A bullet passed through his body, and he fell, dragging with him the flag-staff, as if he would not part with it even in death. The crimson folds of the colours, which covered his body like a pall, were stained with a deeper dye as his heart’s blood ebbed away. The soul of the young hero was gone. But it was no time for tears; the colours were in danger, and the colours must be saved. Butler, the other colour-officer, was slain; but William Evans, a swift-footed Welshman, mounted the parapet, drew the flag-staff gently from the hands of the dying boy, and held it aloft, to show that the Royal Welsh were the first to mount the Great Redoubt. He then, in accordance with military etiquette, handed the colours to Corporal Luby, his superior officer, who, in turn, delivered them up to Sergeant Luke O’Connor, with whom they remained during the rest of the day. No wonder that young Anstruther fell: no less than seventy-five bullets passed through the colours, and the pole of one of them was shot in two, and had to be spliced with a cord.

It was on this occasion that Colonel E. W. D. Bell, of the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Welsh, gained the Victoria Cross. This decoration, so coveted and prized, was devised by her whose name it bears in 1856, and was intended to be a reward of valour for all who distinguished themselves, whatever their rank might be. Its value is enhanced by the fact that Victoria confers this Cross with her own hand whenever this is practicable—an honour which cannot fail to be appreciated by the happy recipient. Our readers have a good idea of its form from the initial letter to our first chapter, but a brief description may not be out of place. It is a Maltese cross of bronze, with the royal crest in the centre, beneath which is an escroll bearing the words, “For Valour;” the date of the act of bravery is inscribed on the centre of the reverse, and the name and corps of the recipient are engraved on the bar to which the ribbon is attached. A sprig of laurel is embossed on this bar, which is attached to the cross by the letter V suspended on a red ribbon or a blue one, as he who gains it happens to be a soldier or a sailor. This decoration, however, is not confined to the army and the navy; civilians who have distinguished themselves by their bravery have as good a claim to it as those who belong to the profession of arms, and several of this class nobly earned it during the Indian Mutiny. Every private or non-commissioned officer thus decorated is entitled to a pension of 10_l._ a year; every fresh act of bravery equal to the first procures for him an additional bar and a further pension of 5_l._ There is no danger, therefore, of the wearers of the Victoria Cross being tempted to rest on their laurels; they have an intelligible motive for striving to increase them. Their names are published in the _London Gazette_, along with the record of the deeds of bravery by which they earned the distinction.

“A king may make a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a’ that,”

but distinguished bravery alone can make a Victoria Cross man. A marquis or a duke may have attained his rank by means that would not bear too close inspection, but the Victoria Cross invites your inspection; its wearer must always be _sans peur_, if not _sans reproche_.

No one will grudge Colonel Bell the distinction which he earned at the Great Redoubt on the heights of the Alma. He was charging at the head of his company at the moment when the Russians were retreating with those guns which had dealt such havoc among our men. All had been drawn away by the artillery horses except a brass 24-pound howitzer, which still remained in position, and gave rise to a singular contest among our soldiery. Each was anxious to claim it as his own, so as to point to it afterwards as a proof of his prowess, and an officer of the 33rd, named Donovan, is said to have been the first who scratched his name upon it. Bell, however, took no part in this contest; his thoughts were elsewhere. Farther on, in the rear of the redoubt, he saw a Russian driver urging on with whip and spur three horses which were dragging a brass 16-pounder gun; in a moment he was alongside the driver, and held a revolver to his head. The latter understood the significance of such an act, and, slipping from his horse, took to his heels. Bell seized the bridle of one of the horses, and, aided by a soldier of the 7th Fusiliers, named Pyle, led them round the shoulder of the parapet to the rear of our line, where he met Sir George Brown, the general in command of the Light Division. Now, it is the duty of a captain to be at the head of his company, and the general is said to have reminded him of this fact in language of considerable emphasis. There was no help for it; Bell had to relinquish his prize, and to return to his company, but the gun was safe; the horses drew it down the hill, where it remained till after the battle. The gun is now to be seen at Woolwich, and the horses were put into our “Black Battery.” At the close of the war, Captain Bell’s heroism was not forgotten; he was decorated with the Victoria Cross, and is now a colonel.

We have already alluded to Lieutenant Anstruther’s heroic death, after he had planted the flag-staff of the Royal Welsh on the summit of the parapet. When he fell, the Queen’s colour was picked up by a private, who gave it to Corporal Luby; it was afterwards carried till the end of the battle by Sergeant Luke O’Connor. The gallant sergeant was shot in the breach, and fell at the same time as young Anstruther; but his wound was not mortal; he soon recovered himself, and refused to go to the rear, though urged to do so by Lieutenant Granville. He received the highest praise from Major-General Codrington on the field, and was rewarded with a commission in his own gallant regiment, in which he now holds the rank of captain. He was also present at the assault on the Redan, on the 8th of September, 1855, where he behaved with great gallantry, and was shot through both thighs. At the close of the war he received the Victoria Cross and the Sardinian war medal. The latter decoration was also bestowed upon Corporal Luby, who was instrumental in saving the Queen’s colour at the battle of the Alma.

The British casualties in this battle were 25 officers killed, and 81 wounded; 337 non-commissioned officers and men were killed, 1550 wounded, and 19 missing. No regiment suffered more than the Royal Welsh Fusiliers. Eight of their officers were killed, and 5 wounded (one of them mortally); 3 sergeants and 40 rank and file were killed, or died of their wounds; 9 sergeants and 143 rank and file were wounded; 2 were missing. The slaughter among the senior officers was so great that the command of the regiment devolved on Captain Bell, who brought it out of action. The regimental colour was carried by Sergeant Honey Smith after Lieutenant Butler fell; it was intrusted to him by Major-General Codrington, as no officer could be spared from his company. In a letter written from the seat of war, Corporal Harwood gave a graphic description of the circumstances under which the Royal Welsh were so fearfully cut up:—“The 23rd was in the Light Division, and on we went, covered by two companies of the Rifle Brigade. We crossed a vineyard, and were led by Colonel Chester through the river, the opposite bank of which was very steep. The colonel went through with us—we all shared alike—and, as we clambered out, the enemy gave us a fierce fire, the cannons belching forth murderous volleys of grape and round shot, and musket-balls fell as thick as hail. The men fell dead and wounded before me and at my side. They fell in every direction, and mechanically I still pressed on, untouched. Up the hill we went with the Rifle Brigade, and half-way up the heights we reached the cannons’ mouths which were planted on the embankments. Our regiment was about to cross the stockade in the enemy’s position, when the word was given, ‘Cease firing, and retire!’ because we were in danger of firing on the French. Our colonel rushed in front of us, shouting, ‘No, no; on, lads!’ He fell with the word on his lips; he never spoke or raised his head again. We _did_ retire then, and an unfortunate mistake it was; for the enemy returned to the guns we had once silenced, and gave us some terrific volleys; but we soon rallied, and, supported by the 7th, 33rd, a portion of the Guards, and the Highlanders, we rushed up the hill again, and the enemy fled in every direction.” This and other letters written by our soldiers during the Crimean War took the nation by surprise; they proved that there were men, unknown to fame, in the ranks of the British Army who could use the pen or the sword with equal skill.

There are certain acts of courage which compel our admiration without obtaining the unqualified approval of our cooler judgment. Colonel Bell’s daring in capturing the Russian gun must be placed in this category. No one will question his courage, or dispute his right to the Cross of Valour; no one will wish his deed undone, or desire that he had acted otherwise. And yet it must be admitted that in leaving his own men he was guilty of a breach of discipline which is more worthy of admiration than imitation. It was his duty to have remained with his company; and if every officer were to yield in battle to the same impulsive bravery, all discipline would be at end and the results would be most disastrous. The first duty of all soldiers is implicit obedience to the commands of superior authority; to this rule there is no exception, save in the case of officers of high rank, who on the field of battle must always be guided partly by circumstances in executing the orders they have received. We are not, therefore, to condemn Sir George Brown for expressing his emphatic disapproval of Captain Bell’s conduct in leaving his company to seize the Russian gun. Sir George, doubtless, admired his courage, but he must have felt that courage ought in every case to be subordinate to discipline. Such was the opinion of Sir Colin Campbell at the storming of the Secunder Bagh at Lucknow. We shall describe in a future chapter the fearful scene of carnage which took place there in consequence of the massacre at Cawnpore. The tumult was at its height when a Highland officer rushed up to the spot where Sir Colin, mounted on his grey horse, stood in the centre of his staff. The Highlander was wild with excitement, and bore on his person traces of the bloody work in which he had taken part. One word of praise from those stern lips was the richest reward his heart could covet. Extending the red banner which he held in his hand towards the general, he joyfully exclaimed, “I have killed the last four of the enemy with my own hand, and here, sir, are their colours.” A Highlander himself, Sir Colin could appreciate the impetuous courage of his countryman, but his duty as a general was imperative; he could not applaud an act which was a violation of discipline. “Confound the colours, sir! where’s your regiment? Go back to your regiment, sir! I thank you for your zeal and gallantry, but go back to your regiment.” The excited and impulsive Highlander obeyed this command, and, doubtless, felt at the moment that the reproof, though grave, was not unmerited. Such also must have been the feelings of Captain Bell when he received the stern command to return to his company and relinquish the Russian gun. If that gun had not remained in our possession after the battle, we doubt whether Colonel Bell’s undisciplined valour would have met with the same recognition from his grateful country. Success may sometimes justify such a step, but we repeat that such deeds of impulsive bravery are more to be admired than imitated. It must be borne in mind, however, that Colonel Bell received the Victoria Cross, not only for capturing the Russian gun at the Alma, but also for bringing the regiment out of action when his superior officers had fallen, and exhibiting the same daring spirit on many subsequent occasions. It is a pleasure to see his manly figure among the other heroes in the Victoria Cross Gallery, and we hope he will long continue to wear the badge of distinction which his sovereign conferred upon him.