The first battle was now over, and as I wrote to my parents from the heights, I thanked God I was still in the land of the living, and what's more with a whole skin (except an abrasion on the head caused by a stone), which a few hours before had appeared impossible. The three regiments that led the way suffered fearfully, the 7th Royal Fusiliers on the right, the 23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers in the centre, and the 33rd on the left. Any one of these three Regiments suffered more than the whole brigade of Guards or Highlanders combined; not that I wish to speak disparagingly of the gallant Guards or the noble Highlanders, I only wish to show on whom the brunt of the fighting fell.
I saw the Heights of Alma on the 20th September, Then the maiden British army first faced the foe, Then the Russian bear, with all his ugly cubs, Was taught to use his heels, as fast as he could go.
Volumes could be written upon the Alma--the battle that opened the guns of France and England in unison, but I must confine my narrative to what actually passed under my own eyes, or in my own regiment. Canrobert, a French Marshal, might well in the excitement exclaim, "I should like to command an English Division for a campaign, and it would be the d----take the hindmost; I feel that I could then attain my highest ambition!" A Russian wounded General, in giving up his sword, as prisoner of war, stated that they were confident of holding their position for some days no matter what force the Allies could bring against them, adding that they came to fight men and not devils. Prince Menschikoff quitted the field in a hurry, for he left his carriage behind and all his state papers. He, poor man, had to eat a lot of humble pie, and we are told that he was furiously mad. He had been over confident that he could hold us in check for three weeks, and then put us all into the sea; he just held the heights for three hours after the attack commenced. Ladies even came out of Sebastopol to witness the destruction of the Allies; but I fancy their flight must have been most distressing, while their feelings were not to be envied.
The Russian officers were gentlemen, but their men were perfect fiends. The night after the battle and the following morning, this was proved in a number of cases, by their shooting down our men just after they had done all they could for them. Our comrades at once paid them for it either by shooting or bayoneting them on the spot; this was rough justice, but it was justice, nevertheless; none of them lived to boast of what they had done.