"After the intrepid rush of the Light Division up the hill, its wavering, its broken and unwilling halt, the bold advance of Pennefather's Brigade, and the billow-like march of the Guards, I pressed on immediately in the rear of the Light, and in front of the Third Division, and I was able to warn Colonel Waddy, as he approached at the head of the 50th, that he was moving right along the line of fire of the enemy's guns, and, as there was a very conclusive proof given of the correctness of the statement just as I spoke, that gallant officer moved off his men, who were in dense column, a little to the left, and got off the road to the fields. All these things and many more came back upon me as I looked{490} around. I could recall that narrow road filled with dead and dying — old friends jesting at scars and wounds, and exulting in victory, and awaiting with patience the arrival of men to carry them away to the surgeons — a white-haired field-officer (of the 55th), whose name I don't know, badly wounded through the body, who could only moan bitterly, 'Oh, my poor men! oh, my poor men! they hadn't a chance;' then the river stained here and there with blood, still flowing from the dead and dying who lay on the shallows and the banks, lined nevertheless by hundreds, who drank its waters eagerly; the horrid procession of the dripping litters going to the rear of the fight; the solid mass of Adams' brigade, halted by Lord Raglan's orders as it emerged from the smoke of Bourliouk: the Staff itself and the Commander-in-Chief, gathered on the rising ground close by; that ghastly battle-field where so many lay in so small a place putrescent with heat and wounds; the grey blocks of Russians melting away like clouds, and drifted off by the fierce breath of battle; the shriek and rush of the shells from the brass howitzers in the battery, the patter of the rifle, the rattling roll of the musketry, the frantic cheers of our men as they stood victors on the heights, drowning the groans and cries which for a moment succeeded the roar of battle; the shrill flourish of the French bugles, and the joyous clamour of their drums from the other side of the ravine — all came back upon the ear again, and the eye renewed its pleasure as it gazed from the ridge upon the plain where it had before seen the Russians flying in disorder, with their rear still covered by the threatening squadrons of their cavalry. Then one recalled the spot where one had seen some friend lying dead, or some one — friend or foe — whom it were no mercy to strive to keep alive. Watkin Wynn, stretched on the ground in front of the trench, with a smile on his face — Chester, with a scornful frown, and his sword clenched in the death grasp — Monck, with the anger of battle fixed on every feature — these and many another friend in the peaceful camp of Aladyn or Devno rose up as they lived in the memory. The scowling Russians who glared so fiercely on their conquerors and seemed to hate them even as they supplied their wants, then seen for the first time, left an impression respecting the type of the Muscovite character which has scarcely been effaced now that they have ceased to be enemies. I recalled the two days passed as no army ought to pass two days — on the field of battle amid the dead — the horrid labours of those hours of despondency and grief where all should have been triumph and rejoicing, and the awakened vigour with which the army broke from its bivouac on the Alma and set out with no certain aim, no fixed project, on its chance march which fate made successful.
"The intrenchment can be distinctly seen for a mile north of the river. It is placed half-way down the slope of the little hill-side. There were no other works, trenches, redoubts, or field-works of any description except one more epaulement and a few sods of earth turned up to afford cover to a few skirmishers; and all the accounts of such defences filled with riflemen and guns which have been{491} made public were erroneous. The enemy had very few riflemen, and the ground, except on the extreme left, was of such a nature that good cover for guns could be had for the seeking. For many years to come the battle-field is likely to remain as it is now, the only difference being that the vines which flourished on the 20th of September, 1854, and which are now destroyed, may be cultivated once more. On ascending from the river towards the intrenchment, you find yourself on the left completely covered by a rise of the hill in front from the parapet, so that men could form in this hollow for the attack, without being exposed to fire; but the Russians, aware of this, sent down on their extreme right large bodies of infantry, who fired at the Left Brigade of the Light Division as they were trying to get into order after crossing the river.