Our Generals could not see where to go. They could not tell where the enemy were. In darkness and rain they had to lead our lines through thick bushes and thorny brakes, which broke our ranks. Every pace was marked by a man down, wounded by an enemy whose position was only indicated by the rattle of musketry and the rush of ball.
Cathcart, advancing from the centre of our position, came to the hill where the Guards were engaged, and, after a few words with the Duke, led the 63rd Regiment down on the right of the Guards into a ravine filled with brushwood, towards the valley of the Tchernaya. He perceived, as he did so, that the Russians had gained possession of the hill in rear of his men, but his stout heart never failed him for a moment. A deadly volley was poured into our scattered companies. Sir George cheered and led them back up the hill, and Cathcart fell from his horse close to the Russian columns. He rode at the head of the leading company, encouraging them. A cry arose that ammunition was failing. "Have you not got your bayonets?" As he lead on his men, another body of the enemy had gained the top of the hill behind them on the right, but it was impossible to tell whether they were friends or foes. The 63rd halted and fired. They were met by a fierce volley. Seymour, who was wounded, got down from his horse to aid his chief, but the enemy rushed down on them, and when our men had driven them back, they lay dead side by side. The 63rd suffered fearfully. They were surrounded, and won their desperate way up the hill with the loss of nearly 500 men. Sir George Cathcart's body was recovered with a bullet wound in the head and three bayonet wounds in the body. In this attack where the Russians fought with the greatest ferocity, and bayoneted the wounded, Colonel Swyny, 63rd, Major Wynne, 68th, Lieutenant Dowling, 20th, and other officers, met their death. Goldie, who was engaged with his brigade on the left of the Inkerman road, received the wounds of which he afterwards died about the same time. The fight had not long commenced before it was evident that the Russians had received orders to fire at all mounted officers. The regiments did not take their{171} colours into the battle, but the officers, nevertheless, were picked off, and it did not require the colour to indicate their presence.
The conflict on the right was equally uncertain and equally bloody. The 88th in front were surrounded; but four companies of the 77th, under Major Straton, charged the Russians, and relieved their comrades. Further to the right, a fierce contest took place between the Guards and dense columns of Russians. The Guards twice charged them and drove the enemy out of the Sandbag Battery, when they perceived that the Russians had out-flanked them. They were out of ammunition. They had no reserve, and they were fighting against an enemy who stoutly contested every inch of ground, when another Russian column appeared in their rear. They had lost fourteen officers; one-half of their number were on the ground. The Guards retired. They were reinforced by a wing of the 20th under Major Crofton. Meanwhile the Second Division, in the centre of the line, was hardly pressed. The 41st Regiment was exposed to a terrible fire. The 95th only mustered sixty-four men when paraded at two o'clock, and the whole Division when assembled by Major Eman in rear of their camp after the fight was over numbered only 300 men.
At half-past nine o'clock, as Lord Raglan and his staff were on a knoll, a shell came and exploded on Captain Somerset's horse; a portion tore off the leather of Somerset's overalls. Gordon's horse was killed, and it then carried away General Strangeway's leg; it hung by a shred of flesh and bit of cloth from the skin. The old General never moved a muscle. He said in a quiet voice, "Will any one be kind enough to lift me off my horse?" He was laid on the ground, and at last carried to the rear. He had not strength to undergo an operation, and died in two hours.
At one time the Russians succeeded in getting up close to the guns of Captain Wodehouse's and Captain Turner's batteries in the gloom of the morning. Uncertain whether they were friends or foes, our artillerymen hesitated to fire. The Russians charged, bore down all resistance, drove away or bayoneted the gunners, and succeeded in spiking four of the guns.
The rolling of musketry, the pounding of the guns were deafening. The Russians, as they charged up the heights, yelled like demons. The regiments of the Fourth Division and the Marines, armed with the old and much-belauded Brown Bess, could do nothing against the Muscovite infantry, but the Minié smote them like the hand of the Destroying Angel. The disproportion of numbers was, however, too great — our men were exhausted — but at last came help. At last the French appeared on our right.