A Circassian and a Pig—A Call on Olivier Pain—His Photographs surprise me—A View of Sydney Harbour in Plevna—The Story of a French Journalist—A Lonely Death in the Soudan—"The Butter-making Prince"—Bulgarian Fleas—The Expedition to Poradim—Going to the Front—An Ambulance at Work—Capture of Russian Guns—A Diabolical Circassian—Attack on a Redoubt—A General Retreat—Wounded Men left in the Redoubt—I help them to escape—An Exciting Moment—My Horse has to carry Double—Death takes one of the Riders—Battle of Pelischat—The March to Lovtcha—A Scrimmage in a Wheat-field—Sleeping in a Wheat-stook—Weinberger and I are apprehensive—A Delightful Surprise—Drawing a Covert—Lovtcha in the Distance—A Council of War—An Appalling Sight—Our Mutilated Comrades—The Sergeant and his Cigarette—A Night Alarm—Ammunition Boxes blow up—A Disastrous Explosion—Lauri and Drew Gay.
My own Circassian servant, Ahmet, was an excellent attendant, and I seldom had any trouble with him. Once, however, an incident occurred through which I nearly lost him. It all arose through a pig. Next door to my quarters, and between them and the house occupied by Dr. Robert, was the residence of a Bulgarian, who was rather more affable than most of his compatriots, and who allowed me to use a right-of-way through his place to get to Dr. Robert's, so as to avoid the necessity of going a long way round. I often saw this Bulgarian as I went through his garden, and one day he told me that he was going to kill a pig, and that if I sent Ahmet in to him he would give him some fresh pork for me. When I conveyed my wishes to Ahmet, I was met by an unexpected obstacle. Ahmet was a good Mussulman, and hated pork as the devil hates holy water. He refused to touch the accursed thing, and it was in vain that by turns I bullied and entreated, threatened and cajoled him to fetch the material for an appetizing plateful of pork chops. He positively refused, and at last I told him that if he would not obey my orders I would have to send him back to his regiment. This was an unpleasant alternative, for with me he had light duties, comfortable quarters, plenty to eat and drink, and no fighting, whereas if he were sent back to his regiment he would have to spend long hours digging in the trenches, with the certainty of being sent under fire on the first reappearance of the Russians. In spite of all this he steadily refused to fetch the pork, and I admired his steadfastness so much that at last I went and fetched it myself. I took it over to Dr. Robert's, and we had a splendid dinner.
It was about this time that I first met that remarkable adventurer Olivier Pain, whose history forms one of the strangest pages in the book of political martyrs. Tewfik Bey told me one morning that a Frenchman had arrived in Plevna; and as I was extremely anxious for some news of the outside world, I determined to call on the visitor. He was established in the Bulgarian house which I had not long quitted, and was receiving the scant attention which the black-eyed daughter of the house found time to bestow upon him, and the conversational treat which her one remark "London" occasionally afforded. When I visited the stranger in my old well known quarters, I found a tall, sallow man, apparently about twenty-five years of age, with a small, pointed beard, and an air of intelligence and almost of distinction. He was arranging his few possessions in the room when I entered and introduced myself to him. As my eyes wandered round the room, I was thunderstruck to see this Frenchman pinning upon the wall a photograph of Sydney Harbour, and I asked him at once if he knew Sydney. He replied that he did; and when I told him that I was a native of Melbourne, he said that he had also been in Melbourne, and knew it well. He seemed somewhat troubled at my recognition of the photograph, and at last, speaking in very tolerable English, he said to me, "Sir, I have a very high idea of the honour of an English gentleman, and I take you to be one. If you will promise not to betray me, I will tell you who I am."
"Like yourself," I replied, "I am alone here, and it does not matter a straw to me who you are. You are evidently an intelligent and educated man, and that is quite enough for me." Then he told me that he was Olivier Pain, and that during the stormy days of 1871 in Paris he had embraced the cause of the Commune, and been deported for life to New Caledonia, in company with the fiery and intransigéant Henri Rochefort. He had escaped in 1874 with Rochefort to the Australian coast, and had reached Sydney in safety, afterwards making his way to Melbourne, and thence to America, where for some time he lay perdu. Venturing back to Europe, however, after many adventures he reached Geneva, and on the outbreak of the Russo-Turkish war was engaged as a war correspondent by one of the principal Geneva newspapers.
Now war correspondents were regarded with the utmost distrust in Turkey, while Osman Pasha positively hated them, and strict instructions were given that no stranger should be allowed into Plevna without a special firman from the Sultan. It was characteristic of the audacity of Olivier Pain that he should have made his way from Constantinople unprovided with the necessary firman, and should have "bluffed" himself into Plevna, in the belief that among the hundreds of departing wounded men and arriving reinforcements his presence would not at first be noticed. As a matter of fact, however, he was noted at once, and eventually had to leave the town temporarily; but for a fortnight he continued to inhabit my old quarters, and I saw a good deal of him.
Little skirmishes between our pickets and the Russian vedettes used to occur from day to day, and Pain began to exercise his métier as war correspondent at once, writing the most picturesque descriptive articles to his Geneva newspaper. I was shown afterwards a copy of that journal, in which a long account appeared written by him, and purporting to be a description of some heroic exploits performed by myself. Upon the slender foundation of my participation in one of the trifling cavalry skirmishes which were constantly taking place, he had built up a remarkable narrative, in which he portrayed me, I am afraid with more vividness than veracity, cutting down Russian troopers by the score. However, fortunately for himself, Pain was an enthusiastic admirer of everything Turkish, and he found in Osman Pasha a model of all the military virtues. It was fortunate for him that he adopted this view in his letters, for unknown to him they were all opened and read by Tewfik Bey before being despatched from Plevna. Of course Tewfik Bey apprised his superior officer of the contents of the letters, and the result was that Osman Pasha's antipathy to war correspondents was mollified in this particular case. War correspondents are not usually thin-skinned; and when at last it became necessary absolutely to turn Pain out of Plevna because he had no authority to be there, Osman Pasha himself gave him a letter to the executive in Constantinople recommending that the necessary permission should be given to him to return to Plevna. He was unable to return at once as the road was blocked; but Chefket Pasha, coming up in October with fresh troops, reopened it, and with him came back Olivier Pain. He survived all the horrors of the fall of Plevna, and lived to seek for new adventures in the service of the Mahdi in the Soudan. The quixotism of Pain's politics was well revealed in his conduct in going to the Soudan as a colleague of Rochefort's, with the idea that he could assist the Mahdi against England, and so injure the traditional antagonist of France. In that book of fascinating interest Fire and Sword in the Sudan, Slatin Bey tells the story of Olivier Pain's appearance in the Mahdi's camp while his troops were marching on Khartoum, and of his acceptance with suspicion both by the Mahdi and the Khalifa. A few days after Pain joined in the march he became ill with fever, and was placed on an angareb, or couch, slung upon a donkey. Growing weaker and weaker, he slipped at last from the donkey, fractured his skull, and died miserably when the column was within three days' march of Khartoum.
As I knew him at Plevna, Pain was capital company. He told us what Europe was thinking of us set there to repel the repeated assaults of the Russians; and he gave us many stories of wild life as a political convict in New Caledonia and a refugee ever since in half the countries of the world.
My friend Czetwertinski had come to stay in my quarters as his health was very delicate and he could not live under canvas; so he and Pain and myself generally dined together, and gathered for a smoke and a chat in the evenings. One night a slight contretemps occurred which came near depriving me of one of my friends, if not both. Czetwertinski conceived the brilliant idea of converting some of the milk which the Bulgarian boy used to bring me into butter, and with this object he extemporized a small churn and turned himself into an impromptu butter factory. The volatile Frenchman could not resist giving his communistic feelings expression, and he made some remark about "the butter-making prince" which grievously incensed the haughty Pole. An instant challenge to a duel followed, and I had the greatest difficulty in preventing my two friends from exchanging shots according to the recognized code. Finally I pacified them, and had the satisfaction of seeing them fall upon each other's necks in a cordial embrace. When Pain finally left us in response to a peremptory order from headquarters, he bequeathed his stock of firewood to me as an acknowledgment of the hospitality which he had received; and I secured possession of this coveted luxury in spite of the loud objections of Pain's Bulgarian landlord, who regarded the wood, which was now becoming a scarce commodity in Plevna, as his lawful perquisite.
A curious superstition on the part of the Turks came under my notice one night soon after Pain's departure. I was tossing about feverishly in bed, suffering agonies from the assaults of the domestic insects which in Bulgaria attain to stupendous proportions, when I heard a tremendous volley of guns, and for the moment I believed that a night attack was taking place. However, after a few minutes of independent firing, the noise died away, and I went to sleep again. Next morning it appeared that there had been an eclipse of the moon on the previous night, and the townspeople were acting in accordance with an ancient superstition when they fired off every available gun, believing that in doing so they would scare away the monstrous animal which was endeavouring to devour the silver queen of night. They were curiously alive to an empty superstition, yet curiously insensible to hard facts, for they appeared to tolerate the ever-present annoyance of the insects with equanimity. When I resorted to the device of putting the legs of my bed in vessels full of water, so that the fleas and other hopping and crawling visitors could not climb up to attack me, the pertinacious creatures thought out a way to circumvent me. They simply crawled up the wall and along the ceiling until they were in a position to drop down upon me, which they did. It was the most marked display of reasoning power in the lower creatures that ever forced itself upon my notice. The only way that I could baffle the voracious crowd was by moving my bed out into the open air, and this I did.
In the forenoon of August 31, while I was pottering about my hospital, I heard guns at a distance of about five miles, and jumping on my horse I galloped off to the headquarters camp, only to find it deserted. Information was obtainable, however, showing that Osman Pasha had suddenly moved off eastward in the direction of Poradim before daybreak with nineteen battalions of infantry, three batteries of artillery, and all the cavalry at his disposal. He had gone out really for the purpose of getting information and ascertaining the position of the Russians. It was a huge reconnaissance ending in a battle.
As I had received no orders to remain in camp, I rode off in the direction of the firing, and after going a couple of miles I saw three or four mounted officers. Fearing that I might be sent back, I went a little aside, and passed them, as I thought, unnoticed; but they speedily ordered me to halt, and when I went up to them I found that one was Hassib Bey, the principal medical officer.
"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" he said to me; "you are the very man we want."
I told him that I was anxious to see the fun, and he advised me, with a laugh, to curb my ardour, and ordered me to remain with him.
We rode on together for another couple of miles, when we came to an ambulance at work. It was the only ambulance that I ever saw in the field with the Turkish troops, and was a very simple affair, managed by four surgeons, who had brought tables, instruments, water, basins, and bandages with them. A number of wounded men were waiting to be treated, and a long stream of others were coming in from the direction of the fighting. Hassib Bey ordered me to assist the other surgeons working at the ambulance, and I took up my duties among the wounded forthwith. We were stationed on the lee side of a hill in comparative safety and out of the line of fire; but the battle was so close to us that we could hear the roar of the heavy guns, the sharp rattle of the breech-loaders, and the loud hurrahs of the troops engaged.
Presently a rumour reached us that our men had captured two Russian guns on the crest of the long ridge between Pelischat and Sgalevitcha and a few minutes later those field-pieces, which were made of bronze and were the first Russian guns that we had yet seen closely, were taken past us at a gallop by Turkish drivers heading for Plevna. When the wounded men who were lying all round us waiting for their turns saw the captured guns, they were excited to the wildest enthusiasm. Many of them rose to their feet in spite of their wounds, and many more propped themselves up painfully on their rifles as they cheered the capture that had been made.
I remained with the ambulance for several hours, and the record of work there shows how much can be accomplished in the way of surgery under active-service conditions. I had a small chamois-leather bag in my pocket which I used generally for carrying coffee; but I devoted it on this occasion to holding the bullets which I extracted from my patients. I was the only operator; and when the afternoon's work was done, I counted nineteen bullets in it—not a bad record of operations all performed within three hours.
If a wounded man came in with the bullet in anything like a handy place I whipped it out at once, and in no case did we give chloroform. Most of the men were walking back or crawling along as well as they could, and a few were being brought in on stretchers by their comrades.
Among the wounded arrivals was an infantry captain who was a nephew of Hassib Bey. He was shot through the calf of the leg, and he was able to give us some details of the fighting. He told us that the Turks had taken a Russian redoubt, or rather a small entrenchment fortified with sandbags, and that there were a good many wounded men there, but no doctor.
I saluted Hassib Bey, and asked him if I could go forward.
"All right," he replied, "you can go; but, for goodness' sake, take care of yourself."
I promised to do so, and galloped off towards the sound of the fighting. On my way I passed a long string of wounded men making their way back to the ambulance, and was able to stanch their bleeding in many cases, and place them in a better condition for continuing their journey. Presently I came across several dead men, and the shells began to fly about. As I advanced farther the numbers of the dead increased, and the bodies of several Russians among the Turks marked the spot where the fighting had been hand-to-hand. Soon I saw the Russian camp about a mile away. It consisted of a number of little wooden huts on a slight slope in front of the village of Pelischat, and there were a good many tents as well. I could see the Turkish troops engaged; but as I came up to them, they were beginning for the second time to fall back under a hot fire from the Russians.
The country was very open, and lightly timbered, with here and there a few beeches and walnut trees, under which little groups of wounded men were resting on their way to the rear. It was plain that the Russians had recently occupied the ground which our troops at this moment were holding, for lying on the plain were many wounded Russians who had been left behind when their regiments fell back, and those hapless creatures received short shrift from the irregular troops fighting under the Turkish flag.
One instance of the savagery with which the conflict was conducted I witnessed personally; and though it shows the Turkish irregulars in very lurid colours, I can vouch for the performance of similar and even worse atrocities on the part of the Cossacks a few days later.
As I was looking at the firing and wondering how much longer our men would be able to hold the advantage which they had gained, I saw a Circassian, with a most diabolical expression on his face, stooping down to pluck some of the long grass that grew there abundantly and wiping his camer, or short sharp sword, upon it. I rode up to see what he was doing, and found that he had just cut the head off an unfortunate wounded Russian. The headless trunk, still quivering with muscular contractions, lay on the ground at his feet, and he was holding up his horrid trophy by the hair.
I rode on to the small earthwork which our men had captured. The regiment which had taken it still held possession, and the Russian troops were advancing in strong force to recapture it. I gathered that desperate fighting had gone on here, and that the redoubt had already been captured and recaptured two or three times. The men who were then holding it were the remnant of the attacking party, and when I was about a hundred yards from the fortified spot I passed an immense number of Turkish dead. They were the first company in the column of assault which perished to a man. The Russians in the redoubt must have reserved their fire, for nearly every man of the first company had five or six bullets through him. The redoubt itself was full of dead and dying men, and the Russians, having rallied, were already coming back beyond their foremost line, being within about five hundred yards of the redoubt. It was plain that if our men did not retire they would be annihilated, and they began to fall back in good order, taking as many of the wounded with them as possible.
One of the first men I saw was Czetwertinski, who was captain in a cavalry troop. He told me that a few minutes before I arrived his horse had been killed under him by a shell which ripped the animal's side open. So perished the magnificent black charger which no man in the squadron could ride but Czetwertinski; the horse to whom he really owed his commission. Czetwertinski had been left unmounted for a minute or two; but he speedily took the horse ridden by his servant Faizi, who had to find his way back as best he could.
The shells began to come pretty thickly among us, and the Russian gunners were making very fair practice. I saw a Turkish regiment lying down close by some trees, when a couple of shells exploded almost simultaneously among them, killing seven men and wounding many more, whom I attended on the spot.
Osman Pasha with Tewfik Bey and his staff were there in the thick of it. The commander-in-chief had had three horses shot under him that day. Presently our men began to retire in earnest, under a perfect storm of shot and shell from the returning Russians. All our wounded men had been got away except two who were left behind in the redoubt. I saw them there, and, realizing what their fate would be when the Russians should have retaken the redoubt, I decided to make an effort to save them. I got into the redoubt, and found that one of the men had been shot through the neck by a rifle-bullet. He was bleeding terribly, and was already blanched to the colour of death. The other man had been struck in the left thigh by a fragment of shell which had shattered the bone. I got them both out, and managed to get the man who was shot in the neck upon my horse. I placed him in the saddle, and I put the man with the shattered leg up behind him. I held the second man in position with my right hand, and led the horse by the bridle with the left. The man with the broken leg was suffering terrible agony, but he held up his comrade in front of him and prevented him from falling off. In this way we started to rejoin our troops, who were now nearly half a mile away, retreating slowly and firing as they went. The Russians were within about four hundred yards of the redoubt when I left it with the two wounded men and the horse.
The Russians were pouring in a hot fire on our retreating troops, and our men were answering at intervals, so that I was caught between two fires. I could hear the Russian shells screaming over my head as I made my way back. Our pace was necessarily slow, for I had to walk the horse all the way, and to take the utmost care lest the men should fall off. When we had got about half a mile from the redoubt, the man in front fell off the horse dead, and I left him there. I put the other man into the saddle; and after a period that seemed like a lifetime, I reached our foremost lines and went on through them, and out of the line of fire, without having received a scratch.
We saw several regiments of Russian cavalry detach themselves from the main body and come galloping down as if to cut off our retreat; so our officers ordered the field-guns into action, and we opened a destructive shell fire on them which stopped their pursuit. The main body of the Russians also drew back, and did not pursue us farther; so that without further misadventure we reached the site of the field ambulance, and I placed my man in one of the waggons after bandaging up his leg. When I took him off the saddle, I noticed a little pyramid of clotted blood, about three or four inches high, on the horse's wither. It had been caused by the slow drip-drip from the neck of the first man before he fell off dead.
I stopped at the field-ambulance depot attending to the wounded men until about six o'clock in the evening, when we all cleared off and went back to Plevna. This was the battle of Pelischat, otherwise named Sgalevitcha. We had about one thousand three hundred men killed and wounded, and we had gained absolutely nothing. I never could understand the exact object of this sortie from Plevna, since even if we had succeeded in capturing the Pelischat-Sgalevitcha position we could never have held it.
Early on the morning of September 4 an orderly came to my quarters before I was up, and said to me, "At eleven o'clock you will see some troops advancing by the Lovtcha road, and you will follow them."
I asked him where they were going, and he said that he did not know. I inquired how long we were likely to be away, and he said that he had no idea, adding that I had better take my instruments with me because I should probably want them.
After I had done my work at the hospital, I went up to the headquarters camp, and found that Osman Pasha and a number of officers, Hassan Labri Pasha, Emin Bey, Tahir Pasha, Tewfik Bey, Osman Bey, and Yalaat Bey, with sixteen battalions and three batteries, were marching out along the Lovtcha road, and I joined them at once. About a mile from Plevna on this road were some large vineyards laden with clusters of ripe grapes, which had attracted the attention of our troops some days before this. In fact, the Turkish soldiers, in their desire to get the ripe fruit, had been in the habit of stealing out by night past our vedettes into the vineyards, and several of them had been shot by the Russian outposts; strict orders had accordingly been given to the troops to refrain from indulging their appetite for grapes under the circumstances, and the Turkish sentries had been instructed to shoot any men who attempted to pass them during the night for the purpose of getting into the vineyards.
When, however, we were marching out towards Lovtcha in the daytime, it was impossible to keep the troops out of the vineyards; and many of the men who had not been too plentifully supplied with rations for some time past gorged themselves with fruit to such an extent that they became ill with dysentery, and I had to attend to them. On the outskirts of Plevna also I noticed many Turkish professional beggars who pestered the troops for money; and as it was considered lucky to give something in charity before going into action, the soldiers were very liberal, and the beggars reaped a rich harvest of piastres.
Almost as soon as we were well clear of Plevna and out into the open country, we fell in with some Russian cavalry vedettes, and began a period of intermittent fighting which continued all that day. When the vedettes saw that we were in strong force, they fell back upon a field where the corn had been cut and stood piled up at intervals in stooks. It was quite interesting to watch them dodging for cover from one stook to another, while our men tried to pick them off with their rifles. A good many of the Cossacks fell in the wheat-field, and the remainder were driven back without difficulty. Hardly had we got rid of those, however, when three or four Russian infantry regiments put in an appearance with a couple of batteries of artillery, and opened fire on us. We were drawn up in very open order, and Osman Pasha sent a couple of batteries up to the crest of some rising ground, and we started to shell the enemy, still continuing to push forward with the main body. There was a small creek to cross, and we had a hard task to get the guns over the bridge under a heavy fire from the Russians. It was very exciting work; and as Tewfik Bey was directing the passage of the bridge, his horse was killed under him by a shell. At last, however, we got safely over, just as it was growing dusk, and sending out skirmishers in front we continued to advance. The firing went on for some hours, sudden sheets of flame appearing on both sides in the twilight as the opposing troops discharged volley after volley; but our casualties were very few, and at last there was a cessation of hostilities.
We camped in a wheat-field which had just been reaped, and Weinberger and I sat all night in one of the stooks, holding our horses. We had no rations with us; but I had had a good feed of grapes in the morning, and with some cobs of maize that I had put in my pocket before starting we managed to satisfy our hunger. As we squatted in the stook together, Weinberger and I discussed the situation seriously, and came to the conclusion that it was by no means reassuring. In point of fact we made up our minds that our last hour was all but come, for we made sure that before morning the Russians would bring up their troops and we should have to be struck by a flank attack. Our communication with Plevna would no doubt be cut off during the night, and we apprehended that when the morning came our force would probably be annihilated. When day broke, however, we looked out of our stook, and found to our intense relief that there was not a Russian in sight anywhere. It was the most beautiful morning that I remember to have ever seen; and after the bare hills round Plevna and the narrow streets of the town, the well timbered, undulating country was a delightful sight.
The march was resumed soon after daybreak, and it must have been midday before we halted in the doghole Bulgarian village of Kakrinka, a little distance eastward of Lovtcha. A number of pigs belonging to the fugitive villagers were roaming about among the empty cottages, and the Circassians, who, like all good Mussulmen, regard the pig as a filthy and abominable creature, showed their religious zeal by shooting several of them. On the outskirts of the village we met a Bulgarian woman with two children, and from her we learnt the fatal news that Lovtcha had fallen two days before. Our march from Plevna had been with the object of relieving Rifaat Pasha, who commanded the garrison at Lovtcha; but we had arrived too late, for he had been attacked by an overwhelming Russian force, and the Turkish troops in Lovtcha had been cut to pieces.
What had happened was this. Skobeleff had advanced upon Lovtcha on September 1, with about twenty-one thousand men and eighty-four guns, exclusive of the Cossacks and their batteries. Aware that he was vastly outnumbered, Rifaat Pasha had sent an urgent request to Osman Pasha in Plevna for immediate assistance; but the commander-in-chief apparently considered that the Lovtcha position could hold out for a few days, and delayed to send reinforcements at once.
During the night of September 1, Skobeleff had thrown up entrenchments and established batteries on a hill two miles from Lovtcha, and opened fire early on the morning of the 2nd upon the position. Later in the day the main Russian body had come up, and thrown up entrenchments to prepare for the general attack, which took place on September 3. After three hours of desperate fighting, the position was carried, and the Turks withdrew their left wing across the river Osma. The attack on the second Turkish position was then commenced, and the citadel of Lovtcha was at last carried by Skobeleff and his Russians, after a general rush from all sides late in the evening.
Most of the Turkish fugitives had already fled towards Mikren, twelve miles south-west of Lovtcha, hotly pursued by Cossacks and artillery. Cut down by the Cossacks or killed by Russian shells, the Turkish force was practically wiped out. Ignorant of the details, however, and knowing only the bare fact that Lovtcha was in the hands of the Russians, we pressed on towards the position; and when we were about five miles from Lovtcha, we saw a couple of regiments of cavalry and a regiment of infantry drawn up on the bank of the Osma. They advanced over the plain to meet us; and as we were well posted on a fairly high eminence, we opened fire on them with artillery. I saw one of the shells drop right in the middle of a squadron of cavalry, and five or six men with their horses were all down on the ground together.
Under the stress of the artillery fire the cavalry scattered and retired, some remaining to pick up their wounded. We continued to fire upon these, and killed about twenty-five or thirty more of them. Below the eminence upon which our troops were drawn up was a wood of dwarf oaks, walnuts, and beeches running down into the plain which form the valley of the Osma; and Osman Pasha, believing that a Russian force was concealed in the wood, sent down a couple of battalions to clear it.
I sat on my horse on the top of the hill, and watched this interesting operation. There were little open spaces here and there in the wood, and I could see the red fezzes of the soldiers bobbing about among the trees as they worked the cover exactly like a pack of foxhounds. There was a great deal of shouting and indiscriminate firing, and we all expected to see the Russians bolting out of the wood on the other side. It was intensely exciting; but at last we saw the fezzes emerging on the far side of the wood, and we realized that they had drawn it blank. There was not a Russian in the place; but I had three wounded Turks to attend to who had been shot by their own comrades when the promiscuous firing was going on in the wood.
As we looked over upon Lovtcha from the hill where we were halted, the town appeared as if it was on the stage of a vast theatre, while we were in the dress circle. Below us was a long green plain with the silver thread of the river Osma meandering through it, and farther away was the town of Lovtcha nestling in the ranges. On the banks of the river were two Bulgarian villages, and we could see Russian troops in both of them.
Osman Pasha held a council of war on the top of the hill, and all the principal officers attended, the question debated being whether an attempt should be made to recapture Lovtcha or not. The general opinion was that it was inadvisable to make the attempt, and Hassan Labri Pasha alone was in favour of an attack. At last, after discussing all the arguments for and against, it was decided not to attack such a strong position occupied by an immensely superior force; and Osman Pasha, much against his will, was obliged to order a return to Plevna.
Meanwhile our cavalry and Circassians were sent down the hill to make a reconnaissance, and I went with them. After going some little distance, we came across a ghastly evidence of the ferocity of the fighting, for we counted nearly four hundred Turks all lying dead together. They had apparently tried to break away when Lovtcha fell, and had been cut down by the Cossacks when making a last stand under the walnut trees. Every corpse was fearfully disfigured. The faces had been slashed with sabres even after death, and the corpses had been subjected to the horrible indignities which are usually supposed to be practised only by the hill tribes of Afghanistan. Whether those atrocities were committed by the Russians or by the Bulgarians I could not definitely determine; but the sight enraged the Circassians to an appalling extent, and their threats boded ill for any Russians who might fall into their hands alive.
It was impossible for the column to return to Plevna by the same way that it had come, because we knew that the Russians had seized some important positions on the road, fortified them with earthworks, and brought up their artillery. Consequently Osman Pasha decided to make a détour; and as Lovtcha was about due south of Plevna, we headed at first in a westerly direction and gradually worked round to the north.
It was an intensely hot day, and we all suffered severely from thirst, having been without water for several hours. I managed to find a pool of dirty water, however, and I drank as much as I could, not knowing when the next opportunity for a drink might arrive. As for food, all that we had consisted of the cobs of maize that we gathered in the fields as we passed.
Later in the afternoon, however, we had another meal with a different menu. As I passed through a Bulgarian village with an advance party of Circassians, we came to a farmhouse on the top of a ridge well timbered with walnut trees. The Circassians made a hurried investigation of the premises, and then set fire to some outbuildings which were thatched with straw. They had found a hive of bees in the shed, and calmly burnt the place down to smoke them out, so that we secured an excellent meal of walnuts and honey.
Osman Pasha was very strict in putting down pillaging, and an instance occurred on the same afternoon of the severity with which he punished any infraction of orders in that respect. As the column passed through one of the small Bulgarian villages which were sprinkled at frequent intervals along the line of route, a small field of tobacco enclosed by a brushwood fence was espied, and a Turkish sergeant who was pining for a cigarette could not resist the temptation, but climbed through the fence and filled his pockets with the dry leaf. Osman Pasha happened to see the incident; and, putting his horse at the fence, he jumped over into the tobacco-field, seized the sergeant and tore the stripes from his shoulder, degrading him to the ranks for his insubordination.
After we had marched about five miles beyond the farmhouse where we had got the honey, we camped for the night, and a very unpleasant night it was. The bivouac was pitched in the middle of a wide expanse of swampy ground, which was so moist that the water oozed through as one sat on the grass. I procured a plank, and lay on it all night, snatching a few minutes of fitful slumber at intervals.
At about eleven o'clock I was roused by a terrific rattle of infantry fire, and we all leaped to our feet firmly convinced that the long expected Russian attack had come at last. All was confusion as the men hastily threw themselves into formation and rammed the cartridges into their rifles; but the firing stopped as unexpectedly as it had begun, and we were left staring into the darkness in anxious suspense. Soon we discovered that it was a false alarm. A white horse which had been wounded in the fighting round Lovtcha had dragged himself painfully all the way from that vicinage after our column, recognizing the bugle calls of the army to which he belonged. But the poor brute paid the penalty of devotion, for our sentries mistook him in the darkness for a Russian vedette, and an alarm was sounded which brought about a volley of musketry fire that put him out of his pain at once.
Next morning the column started very early, and marched through beautifully timbered, undulating country. We saw a couple of Russian vedettes galloping away from one of the Bulgarian villages, and guessed that the enemy were in the neighbourhood. But they kept out of our way, and did not provoke an engagement.
At about two o'clock in the afternoon, as I was riding with the Circassians in front of a battery of field artillery, I heard a terrific explosion, and, looking round, saw a column of smoke behind me fully a hundred feet in height. There were a number of small black fragments falling through the smoke, and I found that an explosion had taken place in one of the gun carriages. The ammunition had gone off in some mysterious way, and the black fragments falling through the air were all that was left of the two unfortunate gunners who had been sitting on the ammunition box. Both the wheel horses were killed on the spot, and one of the drivers was badly injured. No one ever knew how that mysterious explosion occurred. That night we camped in the open again, and at eleven o'clock next morning we arrived at Plevna. I went to my quarters, had a wash, and then resumed my work at the hospital. But there was not much to do, and at two o'clock I was free to take a walk through the town.
To my intense surprise I saw a man who looked like an Englishman; and as I had not seen an Englishman for several months, I shouted to him, half in Turkish and half in English, to ask him who he was. He proved to be a man called Drew Gay, the correspondent of the London Daily Telegraph, and he wore an extraordinary nondescript get-up, including a little forage cap, patent leather riding-boots, and an enormous cavalry sword. He was on his way to pay a visit to the kaimakan, and was accompanied by a German artist named Lauri.
This little Lauri was a charming fellow, and full of the spirit of adventure. He was a great friend of Hamdi Bey, who was the son of Edim Pasha, the grand vizier, and in this way he was able to exercise sufficient influence to secure a firman authorizing him to visit Plevna. Lauri had lived in Cairo for some time, and had earned some notoriety by painting a portrait of the Khedive.
Next day occurred the third and greatest battle of Plevna—a battle in which the enormous value of the breech-loader when backed by entrenchments was fully demonstrated, as were also the magnificent pluck and endurance of the Turkish troops.
The Third Battle of Plevna—Turkish Genius for Fortification—How the Redoubts were built—Description of an Earthwork—Sleeping Underground—Living Men in Holes in the Clay—The Triple Tier of Fire—Commencement of the Battle—The "Mammoth Battery"—Lauri and the Live Shell—Radishevo on Fire—The General Assault—Turkish Civilians join in the Fight—Attack on the Grivitza Redoubt—The Brushwood Shelter takes Fire—I visit the Redoubt—The Sight from the Parapet—A Word to Sadik Pasha—I ride towards Krishin—Turkish Fugitives from our Redoubt—A Compliment from a Civilian—Panic among the Troops—Fall of the Grivitza Redoubt and Capture of Two Krishin Redoubts by Skobeleff—The Counter-attacks—Parapets of Dead Bodies—Tewfik Bey Invincible—The Krishin Redoubts recaptured—A Glorious Victory—Delirious Excitement—Russian Sortie from the Grivitza Redoubt—Repulsed with Terrible Slaughter—Hospital Work heavy once more—Some Stoical Sufferers—Russian Bravery—Osman Pasha and the Wounded—Departure of Drew Gay to run the Gauntlet—A War Correspondent and his News—Perilous Ride from Plevna.
Those two factors in the Turkish defence, viz. rapid rifle fire and complete field fortification, were justly regarded by the Russian general, Todleben, the principal defender of Sevastopol, to have been the chief causes of the overwhelming defeat of the Russians in the third battle of Plevna.
During the six weeks which had elapsed since we entered Plevna from Widdin, I had plenty of opportunities of watching the natural genius of the Turks for fortification unfold itself. The pick and the spade were never idle night or day since our tired troops first camped on the Janik Bair; and now on the eve of the great battle the splendid result of their labours was apparent.
Plevna was defended by a line of earthworks of tremendous strength, drawing a ring of fire almost completely round the town. The chain of redoubts extended in the form of a horseshoe, the toe of which, pointing due east, was formed by the Grivitza redoubt, while one heel was at Opanetz in the north, and the other at Krishin in the south. Plevna itself lay, as it were, in the "frog" of the foot, the nearest earthworks on either side being the Bukova redoubts on the north, and a double redoubt facing the "Green Hills" and dominating a long stretch of sloping vineyard on the south. It was round the Grivitza redoubt in the toe of the horseshoe, and this double redoubt close into Plevna in the heel, that the fiercest fighting of the whole protracted series of engagements was centred.
In six weeks the Turkish troops, under the direction of Tewfik Bey, had constructed the most elaborate and perfect system of field fortification that the world had ever seen—a system which utterly routed the old military idea that a bold and well reinforced attack must always succeed against a defended position. It may be as well to briefly describe the main features in the construction of these works as they appeared to an untechnical observer.
The usual type of redoubt was a large quadrangular fort, the walls of which were about seven feet high on the outside, and about twenty feet in thickness, the earth of which the walls were formed being a stiff loam, admirably suited for the work. Field-pieces were mounted inside the fort and fired through embrasures protected by bonnettes. The troops fired over the top of the parapet from a banquette reached by steps from the floor which was excavated below the level of the ground outside. The Grivitza redoubt, which was one of the largest, was a perfect square, each side of which was about fifty yards in length. Inside, the redoubt was divided into four compartments by a huge traverse of earth about eight feet thick, which was designed to protect the defenders from reverse fire. Communication between the four compartments was afforded by narrow passages left open between the cross-walls and the exterior wall. The ammunition magazine was stored in a great subterranean chamber excavated underneath the massive cross-walls; and so efficacious was this mode of storing the cartridges, that during the four days' bombardment only two explosions occurred, although it is computed that the Russians fired at least three hundred thousand shells into the redoubts. In the Ibrahim Bey redoubt a segment of a shell found its way into the magazine, which blew up during the height of the attack, killing forty of the defenders, Colonel Ibrahim Bey himself falling at the head of his men soon afterwards. In the Yunuz Bey redoubt in the extreme south-west there was also a disastrous explosion. Yunuz Bey, who commanded all the Krishin redoubts, survived the assault of Skobeleff and was decorated for personal bravery, together with Tewfik Bey, after the battle.
Access to each redoubt was gained from the rear, and in some cases one side was also left open, as Skobeleff's troops found to their cost in the work of which they held temporary possession. Sleeping accommodation for the artillerymen was provided inside the redoubts, while the infantrymen were lodged outside in the trenches. There was something weirdly dramatic in the sight of those Turkish gunners, black and weary and smoke-begrimed with battle, sleeping, as I have often seen them, in their narrow resting-places scooped out of the stiff loam in the inner side of the great wall of the redoubt. The Russian shells came crashing into the exterior face of the earth wall; but the gunners slept on calmly in their subterranean clay beds, and after a brief slumber mounted to relieve their comrades again, often indeed only to exchange their narrow beds in the thickness of the earth wall for couches in the cold, wet earth outside and the sleep that knew no waking. Immediately in front of the redoubt in every case was a ditch about fifteen feet wide and ten feet deep as a first line of defence. Farther in advance was a line of trenches, in many cases connecting with an adjacent redoubt; and a second line farther on down the slope of the hill provided another line of fire. The trenches had breastworks about three feet high, pierced with loopholes for rifles at intervals of one foot six inches. Covered passages effectually connected the trenches, and a network of similar passages afforded ample living accommodation for the troops. The scale upon which all these works were carried out may be imagined when it is mentioned that one of the redoubts contained in interior area more than ten thousand seven hundred square yards, and was provided with subterranean chambers affording lodgment for troops and staff as well as ample storage room and stabling for horses.
Of course the redoubts were not all uniform in exact pattern, some of them being designed for artillery and infantry, while others were defended by infantry only. In many of the works a second line of rifle fire was obtained from a covered way leading outside, so that when all the resources of a redoubt and trenches were at work an unremitting fire of three and in some cases four successive tiers was obtained. The supply of ammunition was practically unlimited; and it is not difficult to recognize that, under such conditions, an assaulting force could not but be terribly scourged both by infantry and artillery.
During the night of September 6 the Russians brought up their artillery under cover of the darkness, and threw up cover for the guns with their entrenching tools. When the morning of September 7 broke in cold and drizzling rain, the Russians had surrounded us, the Roumanian divisions being placed in the north and north-east, while the Russian divisions lay in the south-east and south. All the west side was occupied by cavalry, who commanded the valley of the Vid and the Orkhanieh road, so as to cut off the Turkish fugitives who were expected to fly in that direction.
The Russians had about eighty thousand infantry, twelve thousand cavalry, and four hundred and forty guns; while the Turkish forces numbered about thirty thousand infantry with seventy-two guns and an inappreciable number of cavalry.[3]
Every precaution had been taken by the Russians to avoid a repetition of the previous disasters which had attended their attempts to force Plevna by assault, and they relied for success upon their vast preponderance in numbers and upon a prolonged artillery preparation which was intended to demoralize the defence.
At six o'clock in the morning of September 7 I heard the roar of the commencing bombardment from Opanetz in the north, and it quickly worked round, until the two Grivitza redoubts due east of Plevna were involved. Across the Bulgarian road, Ibrahim Bey's redoubt and three or four others connected with it sustained a fierce bombardment, and the line of guns extending southwards across the Tutchenitza ravine and the Lovtcha road added their voices to the general roar as far as the village of Brestovitz, where a heavy fire from siege-guns was concentrated on the Krishin redoubt. A short experience of the bombardment, however, showed our troops that they had little to fear from the Russian artillery, and casualties were few and far between in the redoubts.
What was called the "mammoth battery," consisting of a tremendous group of fifty heavy Russian siege-guns, was placed in position due east of Plevna, and bombarded Ibrahim Bey's redoubt all day, the guns of the redoubt replying with spirit. The garrison of the redoubt were so well covered that they lost only forty men in killed and wounded after the whole day's firing, and the damage which was done to the earthworks during the day was repaired at night.
Soon after the commencement of the action I rode over towards Ibrahim Bey's redoubt, taking Lauri, the newly arrived German artist, with me. As we rode along together a Russian shell struck the ground about a hundred yards in front of us, and, ricochetting, flew over our heads and lodged in the ground behind us. Lauri was tremendously excited. He rushed off and picked up the shell, which he held in his arms as if it was a baby, exclaiming at the same time in his broken English, "I am forty-three years of age, and this is the first time that I haf seen a gun fired. Ah, what would my wife say if she could now see me!" With some difficulty I induced him to moderate his transports and drop the shell, which I was afraid every moment would explode and dissipate poor Lauri into space. By keeping on the lee side of the hill and dodging up at intervals we could catch glimpses of the "mammoth battery" scarcely a mile away, and could see the spirts of flame enveloped in white smoke as the guns were fired in a tremendous volley. Sometimes the shells struck the redoubt, and clouds of earth flew up; while at other times the projectiles went screaming over the crest of the hill, and fell in the low ground near the town.
I occupied myself in my hospital for the next few days, riding out at intervals to watch the progress of the bombardment, which was being prosecuted with terrific force. On the 10th the village of Radishevo, where the Russian batteries were in position, caught fire, and the conflagration lit up the wet grey sky in the east. Little damage was done to our redoubts, and the artillery preparation was so far a failure.
On the 11th the general assault took place. I was working away in the hospital all the morning, as the wounded were beginning to come into Plevna in considerable numbers, when I saw a Turkish sergeant who had been slightly wounded by a splinter from a shell. He announced that he was going back to the fight, and I said that I would go with him. I rode out, while the sergeant followed on foot, and passing our farthest redoubt I found myself among some trees, with the shells flying about in all directions. When I looked round for the sergeant, I found that he had disappeared, and that I was there by myself about two hundred yards in the rear of our foremost fighting line in the trenches. The troops were almost hidden from me by smoke, and a few wounded men were crawling back towards the redoubt for shelter. I formed a little field ambulance behind the trees, and proceeded to give first aid to the wounded; but the firing began to get so hot that I was obliged to abandon the position and ride back. As I crossed the Lovtcha road in the direction of the Krishin redoubts, I came across three or four isolated rifle pits in which a few old Turkish civilians, armed with antiquated rifles, were busily firing upon the Russian lines. They had evidently not been observed by the Russians, and the old fellows, showing nothing but a pair of gleaming eyes and the long brown barrels of the rifles above the level of the ground, were knocking over their men at long range. How on earth they got there I could not conjecture; but they soon saw me, and resented my appearance strongly. They called out to me in most forcible language to take myself and my horse away, as they were afraid that I should draw the Russian fire upon them. I left them still diligently potting the unconscious enemy, and at about four o'clock in the afternoon I heard a terrific musketry fire back towards Grivitza. After crossing the headquarters camp I could see dense masses of troops advancing from the village of Grivitza, and a black cloud of men already in the valley, about five hundred yards in front of the Grivitza redoubt.
Meanwhile the Russian artillerymen were shelling the redoubt, which was evidently in imminent danger. The stables at the rear of the redoubt, which were roofed with boards and hurdles, caught fire from an exploding shell, and blazed up as I was watching. I could hear the Russians cheering when they saw the fire.
Seeing the Russians in the valley, I galloped on the lee side of the hill, where I was under cover, to the Grivitza redoubt. I went into the redoubt which was being shelled, and, climbing upon the banquette where the men were firing, I could see large bodies of Roumanians attacking us on the north, while a detachment of Russians were advancing from the east. I found Sadik Pasha, who was in command of the redoubt, and told him that I had seen a strong body of troops in the valley below us and invisible from the redoubt. A shell exploded in the redoubt while I was there, and I was glad to clear out as quickly as I could.
Jumping on my horse again, I galloped off to the south, where Skobeleff was attacking the Krishin redoubts and the neighbouring works. As I rode across the Lovtcha road the firing was something terrific. Skobeleff's troops had taken the second crest of the Green Hills on the previous day, and this morning they had taken the third crest and driven our men back from the trenches into the two redoubts described afterwards by Skobeleff as the Number 1 and Number 2 Plevna redoubts. In spite of a furious counter-attack by the Turks, the Russian regiments remained in possession of the height, having thus carried each successive ridge of the Green Hills and driven our men back into the redoubts.
It was now about half-past two in the afternoon, and as I approached the rear of the two redoubts which were the objective of the main assault the intensity of the fire redoubled. The Turks were running out of the back of the redoubts in hundreds, and I tried in vain to rally them and get them to return. I saw a Turkish lieutenant, who was one of the fugitives, endeavouring to climb over a paling fence at the back of one of the redoubts and get away to Plevna. I upbraided him, and thumped him in vain with the flat of my sword. As he was getting over the fence he was struck by a rifle-ball, and fell with his back broken.
As I was shouting, entreating, threatening, and striking the fugitives to try and get them to rally, I saw two old Turkish civilians in long beards and caftans. They came up and caught me by both hands, saying, "Sen choki adam," which means, "You are a noble fellow," or words to that effect. I remember this incident because it was one of the highest compliments I have ever received. Troops were flying pell-mell for Plevna, and shells were exploding at the rate of twenty or thirty per minute on the side of the hill. The roar of the artillery, the rattle of the musketry, the explosion of the shells, the loud hurrahs of the Russians, and the cries of the wounded made up a perfect hell. I met Czetwertinski near the redoubts, and he and I made renewed efforts to rally the men; but we were powerless to stop the mad tide of fugitives. Czetwertinski drove the point of his sword into a man's leg without being able to stop him; and at last, as it was getting hotter and hotter, he said to me that it was hopeless stopping there, and we had better be off.
As I returned to Plevna the men were flying like wild animals. It was a regular panic. They were like sheep before a bush-fire. When I got into the town there was a panic among the townspeople. A universal cry of, "The Russians are coming! the Russians are coming!" went up on all sides; and wounded men, old, bed-ridden, half-naked women, and screaming children were all crowding towards the headquarters camp. I learnt then that Skobeleff had taken the two redoubts within half a mile of the town, and that the Grivitza redoubt was also in the hands of the Russians.
Skobeleff, it seems, had given the order to attack at three o'clock; and the Vladimir and Souzdal Regiments, supported by chasseurs, rose and rushed forward with bands playing and drums beating. They had to descend the wooded slopes covered with vines from the third ridge, to enter the valley, cross the stream at the bottom, and climb a stiff slope, completely bare for about seven hundred yards, on the summit of which the redoubt was placed. The attacking force received a terrible fire from the artillery and infantry in the redoubt attacked, as well as an enfilading fire from the Krishin redoubt; but when reinforced by the Revel Regiment, they pushed on doggedly under the hail of bullets, which had already killed nearly half of their number, flung themselves into the trenches, and finally climbed the parapet and took the redoubt. The second redoubt, which was connected with the first, also fell immediately afterwards after a desperate struggle.
Raked by the guns of the Krishin redoubts and by the fire of the Turkish infantry, who sallied out from the camp at the rear of these redoubts, Skobeleff's troops had a fearful night in the defences which they had captured.
Successive assaults were delivered upon them all through the night by the Turks; but time after time our men were driven back by the murderous fire of the Krenke and Berdan rifles. On the exposed side of the Number 1 redoubt the Russians had built up a parapet of the dead bodies of friend and foe alike; and sheltered behind this dreadful barrier, they poured a hail of bullets into the Turkish ranks. When morning broke I could still hear the rattle of the rifles; and working away in my shirt sleeves in the hospital, I could hear the rifle-bullets pattering on the red tiles of the houses in the town. At daybreak I went back to my quarters for a sleep. The Russian batteries had advanced to closer range, and two shells exploded in my garden. A bullet came through the door of the room where I was lying, and buried itself in the wall just before I fell asleep.
When I awoke and went out the firing was still going on, and there were about one thousand five hundred wounded men lying out in the open square. We started to dress them at once. All the wounded men who had been in the hospital were removed for greater safety to the south end of the town, so as to be as far away as possible from the scene of action. We cleared out a number of small Bulgarian hovels belonging to people of the poorest class, and installed the wounded in them.
I had not been at the hospital long before my Circassian servant came down and informed me that the firing at my house was getting very hot, and he wanted to know what he should do. He said that he thought the town was on the point of being taken. I told him to go back, pack up my things, and put them on my horse. I said, "If you see the Russians coming over the crest of the hill, come down here at once with my horse, but not otherwise." My horse had not come out of it scatheless, for a bullet had gone through the muscles of his neck; but he was still full of pluck and able to carry me well.
Meanwhile let us see what had been happening at the redoubts. Attack after attack was delivered through the night without success; and at last, at half-past ten a.m., a vigorous assault, backed up with a telling shell fire, shook the defence, and the Russians began to pour out of Number 1 redoubt, their example being followed by those in the adjoining work. Some of the foremost Turks had already penetrated into the redoubts; but they were sacrificed in vain, for Skobeleff, with his extraordinary personal magnetism and great courage, rallied his men again, and staved off the inevitable moment a little longer. I got away from the hospital at three o'clock in the afternoon, and rode out towards the redoubts where the Russians were sustaining a last furious assault by our troops under Tewfik Bey. As I neared the redoubts this assault was at its height, and this time the Turkish troops would not be denied. The columns deployed under fire and formed lines of skirmishers, who received continuous support from fresh accessions of men behind, carrying the assault forward in successive waves. Soon the Turks were over the parapet once more, cutting down the Russian defenders, and driving the remainder out on the other side and down the slope again towards their own trenches on the Green Hills.
Thus the third battle of Plevna ended, after five days' fighting, in the complete defeat of the Russians, who lost nearly twenty thousand men in the long bloody struggle, and gained nothing but the Grivitza redoubt, which was absolutely no use to them, and which fell mainly through the instrumentality of the Roumanian, not the Russian, troops.
It is amusing to observe how the Russian official documents describe the result. "The points chosen for attack," we read, "were the following: the redoubt of Grivitza, the works in the centre opposite the heights of Radishevo, and the third crest of the Montagnes Vertes. After superhuman efforts and enormous losses, our troops carried the first and last of these points. The Grivitza redoubt and two of the redoubts south of Plevna were in our possession; as to the central works, our troops, notwithstanding that they showed a bravery beyond all praise, could not carry them. Consequently we had obtained some partial successes; but fresh troops were necessary to profit by our gains, and these were not forthcoming. It was decided, therefore, to keep the Grivitza redoubt, and to abandon the Montagnes Vertes."
When I think of that last tremendous charge of the Turkish infantry, when the cry of "La ilaha illallah Mohammed Rasul Allah!" rent the air and rang from one redoubt to the other, as it went like the flame in a train of gunpowder round the whole circuit of the defences, I cannot help smiling at the polite official statement, "It was decided to abandon the Montagnes Vertes."
I was inside the Number 1 redoubt two minutes after the men of the front firing line, and I shall never forget the scene of carnage that I saw there. The redoubt was literally choked up with dead and dying men, and the ground was ankle deep in blood, brains, and mutilated fragments of humanity. The Turks became almost delirious with the excitement of the victory. Everywhere men were shouting, praying, and giving thanks to Allah. About three hundred of them got drag-ropes, and took the captured Russian guns off in triumph to the headquarters camp; and inside the redoubt the soldiers fell on each other's necks, danced, and sang in a perfect frenzy of delight. The excitement of the five minutes following the recapture of the redoubts was worth a lifetime of common-place existence; but all the while in the Grivitza redoubt, three miles away, the enemy stood watching with cannons ready—a silent warning of the conflicts yet in store for us.
After the battle, the Russians withdrew from their positions and retired on Radishevo.
The Turkish army was mad with joy. We attached but little importance to the capture of the Grivitza redoubt by the Russians, because the Turkish garrison simply fell back upon the sister redoubt, which was only one hundred and eighty yards distant from the other in a north-westerly direction, and really commanded it. The unimportance of the loss of this redoubt was proved by the fact that, though the enemy occupied it during the whole of the remainder of the siege, they did little or no damage from it.
On the night after the battle, the Russian troops in the Grivitza redoubt Number 1, or the Kanli Tabiya, made a desperate sortie with the object of capturing the Number 2 redoubt, or, as we called it, the Bash Tabiya.
It is strange how the sleeping brain adjusts itself to circumstances—sleeps with one eye open, as it were. I could always sleep soundly under the fire of the heavy guns, even in a redoubt, because my brain recognized that they were practically harmless when we were under cover; but as soon as the rattle of the rifles began, I invariably awoke at once with an instinctive knowledge that the fight was approaching a crisis. So it was on the night after the battle. The Russian cannon continued to boom sullenly at intervals, and, worn out with fatigue as I was, they only lulled me to a deeper slumber in my quarters in the town. Presently, however, a rifle volley rang out, quickly answered by another and another. In a second I was out of my sheepskin rug and on my verandah, from which I could see the night attack three miles away. The night was dark and drizzling; but looking in a north-easterly direction towards the line of the Janik Bair redoubts, I could see the flash of the volleys and the spirting flame of the artillery as the Russians leaped from their redoubt upon the Bash Tabiya, only one hundred and eighty yards distant from them. The Bash Tabiya was strongly garrisoned. Its heavy guns swept every yard of the ground between it and the newly captured forts; and its defenders poured an incessant hail of bullets from a triple line of rifle-barrels upon the attacking troops. To succeed under such circumstances was well nigh impossible, and after a few minutes of this awful fire the Russian remnant broke and fled back to the protection of the redoubt.
It was only on the morrow that we realized what a complete victory we had won in the battle of the previous day, because we could then see plainly that the Russians had suffered terrible losses and had achieved absolutely nothing. We began to feel more secure of our position; and the wounded, who had all been sent away to the lower end of the town, were brought back again and placed in temporary hospitals near our central depot. In the previous battles we had been accustomed to send the wounded away to Sofia at once, and the wisdom of Osman Pasha's decision in this matter was now made apparent. Insufficient as was our hospital accommodation, it was doubly fortunate that we were not encumbered with the wounded from the previous battles as well, because we now had about four thousand patients to deal with, and there was no chance of sending them away because we realized at last that we were in a state of siege. The Russians were all round Plevna, and they barred the Orkhanieh road.
We of the medical staff had four days of real hard work after the battle. There were an immense number of operations to perform; and as Osman Effendi and myself had to perform the greater number of them, our energies were taxed to the utmost. There were about forty doctors all told in Plevna, to deal with four thousand cases or thereabouts. Owing to the continuous nature of the work, I never went back to my quarters during the week after the battle, but used to sleep at the hospital. My Circassian servant cooked my food, such as it was, at my house, and brought it down to me while I was at work. As on the previous occasions, Osman Effendi and myself performed all operations in the open air under a big willow tree on the bank of the Tutchenitza, and in the shadow of an old Turkish mosque, where every evening at sundown an ancient priest, mounting a minaret, called the faithful to prayer.
Although we were greatly assisted by the magnificent physique of the patients, still their extraordinary reluctance to undergo operations perceptibly increased the average mortality. Three days after the battle, I saw a Turkish soldier crawling slowly along the street and stopping every minute. He was holding some object in his hand, and his appearance was so strange that I went over and had a look at him. I found that he had been shot in the abdomen, and about two feet of the small intestine had prolapsed, and was protruding through the wound. It was so altered in appearance by exposure that it looked exactly like a bit of tarred rope. Two of this man's comrades had been wounded, and had died in the hospital—a fact which had made him believe that the hospital treatment was responsible for the fatal termination of their wounds, and he resolutely refused to allow me to touch him with an instrument. The intestine was not strangulated; and if he had allowed me to open up the wound, wash it, and replace the intestine, he would probably have recovered. As it was, he lived for fifteen days in that pitiable condition.
The stoicism of the men was truly remarkable. A soldier was brought to me to be examined one day, and I found that he had been skylarking with a comrade, who had "jobbed" him in the stomach with his bayonet. The surgeon who first saw him could detect only a very small wound in the stomach, and he put a bit of plaster over the place and sent the man away. In a few hours' time the patient became very bad, and I was asked to see him. I asked him at once if he had vomited any blood; and when he replied in the affirmative, I knew that the wall of the abdomen had been perforated, and that his fate was sealed. He was quite cheerful, but he died at the end of twenty-four hours.
As the greater part of the fighting had been done from behind parapets or breastworks, the majority of the wounded were shot through the head or chest, and a large percentage of these wounds necessarily proved fatal. There was an infinite variety in the nature of the wounds. One man came under my hands who received six wounds from one bullet. The ball struck him on the outside of the right arm between the elbow and the shoulder, passed through the arm, through the fleshy portions of the chest, and through the left arm as well, leaving six distinct bullet-holes, all of which I washed and plugged. He made a rapid recovery, and after a few weeks in the hospital went back to the trenches.
Not a single wounded Russian came into my hands after the battle. The Russians always carried their wounded with them when they retired; and after the crowning episode of the battle, when I reached the Kavanlik redoubt as soon as Tewfik Bey had recaptured it, there was not a single living Russian left there. When the final assault was delivered, a Russian captain and eighteen men elected to see it out to the bitter end. Those brave men continued fighting to the last, and were all bayoneted by the Turkish troops who poured, victorious at last, over the parapet. It can readily be imagined that fighting of this sanguinary character left few wounded Russians for us to deal with.