Part 8

your wish gratified." At this moment the whole of the village in our front burst into flames — the hay-ricks and wooden sheds about it causing the fire to run rapidly, fanned by a gentle breeze, which carried the smoke and sparks towards our line. Sir De Lacy rode towards the left to get rid of this annoyance, and to get to his men, and as he did so, the round shot came bounding among the men lying down just before us. From the groans and stifled cries it was too plain they left dead and dying in their course. The Rifles in advance of our left were sharply engaged with the enemy in the vineyard, and, anxious to see what wras going on, I rode over in that direction, and arrived at the place wrhere were stationed the staff of the Light Division. Sir George Brown was just at the time giving some orders to one of his Aides relative to the "Russian cavalry on our left front." I looked across the stream, and saw, indeed, some cavalry and guns slowly moving down towards the stream from the elevated ground over its banks; but my eye at the same time caught a most formidable-looking mass of burnished helmets, tipped with brass, just above the top of the hill on our left, at the other side of the river. One could plainly see through the glass that they were Russian infantry, but I believe the gallant old General thought at the time that they were cavalry, and that a similar error led to the serious mistake, later in the day, which deprived the Light Division of part of its regimental strength, and wasted it on " preparing to receive" an imaginary " cavalry." Sir George looked full of fight, clean shaven, neat and compact; I could not help thinking, however, there was a little pleasant malice in his salutation to me. As he rode past, he said, in a very jaunty, Hyde Park manner, " It's a very fine day, Mr. Russell." At this moment the whole of our light was almost obscured by the clouds of black smoke from the burning village on our right, and the front of the Russian line above us had burst into a volcano of flame and white smoke — the roar of the artillery became terrible — we could hear the heavy rush of the shot, those terrible dumps into the ground, and the crash of the trees, through which it tore with resistless fury and force; splinter and masses of stone flew out of the walls. It was rather provoking to be told so coolly it was a very fine day amid such circumstances; but at that very moment the men near us were ordered to advance, and they did so in quick time in open line towards the walls which bounded the vineyards before us. As I had no desire to lead my old friends of the Light Division into action, I rode towards the right to rejoin Sir De Lacy Evans, if possible; and as I got on the road I saw Lord Raglan's staff riding towards the river, and the shot came flinging close to me, one, indeed, killing one of two bandsmen who were carrying a litter close to my side, after passing over the head of my horse. It knocked away the side of his face, and he fell dead — a horrible sight. The G and B batteries of the Second Division were unlimbered in front, and were firing with great steadiness on the Russians; and now and then a rocket, Tnth a fiery tail and a huge waving mane of white smoke, rushed with a shrill shout against the enemy's massive batteries. Before me all was smoke — our men were lying down still; but the Rifles, led by Major Norcott, conspicuous on a black horse, were driving back the enemy's sharpshooters with signal gallantry, and clearing the orchards and vineyards in our front by a searching fire. When I reached the spot where I had last seen Sir De Lacy Evans, he was nowhere to be found, for he had, as I afterwards heard, ridden with his staff close to the river by the burning village. My position was becoming awkward. Far away in the rear was the baggage, from which one could see nothing; but where I was placed was very much exposed. A shell burst over my head, and one of the fragments tore past my face with an angry whir-r-r, and knocked up the earth at my poor pony's feet. Close at hand, and before me, was a tolerably good stone-house, one story high, with a large court-yard, in which were several stacks of hay that had not as yet caught fire. I rode into this yard, fastened up my pony to the rope binding one of the ricks, and entered the house, which was filled with fragments of furniture, torn paper, and books, and feathers, and cushion linings, and established myself at the window, from which I could see the Russian artillerymen serving their guns; their figures, now distinctly revealed against the hill side, and again lost in a spurting whirl of smoke. I was thinking what a terrible sort of field-day this was, and combating an uneasy longing to get to the front, when a tremendous crash, as though a thunderclap had burst over my head, took place right above me, and in the same instant I was struck and covered with pieces of broken tiles, mortar, and stones, the window out of which I was looking flew into pieces, parts of the roof fell down, and the room was filled with smoke.