Posts Tagged ‘Crimea’

Highland Officer's Doublet - 42nd Royal Highland Regiment of Foot

As a result of publishing an image of the Scottish Feathered Bonnet, I received an email from someone with an interest in the Black Watch in the Crimean War. Thus I thought I would publish this excellent example of the traditional highland military dress.

The 42nd Regiment of Foot, more commonly known today as The Black Watch, landed at Kalamita Bay in the Crimea in September 1854, as part of the Highland Brigade, 1^st Division, English Army of the East.  Their battle honours include Alma, and the Siege of Sevastopol.

The coat in this photograph is the scarlet doublet, introduced in 1855, and worn by Black Watch officers during the later part of the Crimean War, at least through 1856.  Although the facings on collar and slash cuffs appear black, this is a regiment designated as ‘Royal’, therefore, the facings are a very dark blue.

The doublet has two rows of nine each regimental pattern diamond-shaped highland buttons down the front.  Each button bears a crown over the number ‘42’.  There are two ‘Inverness’ style skirts on the lower front with three buttons each, and loops of gold braid.  There were short skirts on the rear as well.

The single row of braid and the crescent badge on both sides of the collar indicate that an Ensign wore this particular doublet. Ensigns were not only Second Lieutenants in the Crimean period, but often carried the colour or colours – the Ensign of the regiment and the Queen’s colour.

Although the doublet shows campaign wear, and a roughly hand-stitched mend under the left arm, there is no specific evidence it saw action in the Crimea.

This artifact was photographed courtesy of The Black Watch Museum, Perth, Scotland.

Nearly Complete Marching Order - Other Ranks - 19th Regt of Foot

Please excuse my not having blogged in a bit.  Life, as it often does, got in the way.  Since my response to publishing photographic images and descriptions from “Crimean Memories: Artefacts of the Crimean War, has met with positive responses, I shall continue to do so for a time.

The 19^th Regiment of Foot, better known today as the Green Howards, landed at Kalamita Bay in the Crimea in September 1854, as part of the Light Division of the English Army of the East.  Their battle honours include Alma, Inkerman, and the Siege of Sevastopol.

The artifacts in this photograph represent the only known museum presentation of a nearly Complete Marching Order uniform, with shako (1844-1855), enlisted soldier’s coatee, and nearly full accoutrements and equipment, as worn in the Crimea in 1854.  Based upon the shoulder epaulettes, the white over red shako plume, and the plain number 19 in the shako badge (without a grenade for grenadier company or a hunting horn for light company) we know that this is the uniform of a member of a ”battalion company” of a line regiment.

The red serge coatee has two tails in the back, which have white turn-backs.  The coatee has grass-coloured regimental facings on collar and cuffs.  There are ten rows of doubled white tape with square end loops across the front.  The coatee is fastened by a single row of pewter buttons bearing the regimental number 19.

You can see on the back a black Trotter style knapsack with white leather shoulder straps across the front.  The black waterproof cloth-covered mess tin set is  just visible strapped to the knapsack top. The leather cartridge box can just be seen peeking out from where it is suspended on the cross belt on the right side, under the right arm.

The manikin is wearing one plain white cross belt, and the then newly issued waist belt with locket buckle.  The outer ring of the buckle bears the name of the county the regiment is from:  York North Riding Regiment, today the North Yorkshire Regiment.  Inside the ring is, again, the number 19.  No bayonet is on this manikin, but would have been worn with the scabbard affixed to a leather frog on the left side of the waist belt.  Note the small white pouch slid onto the shoulder belt to contain percussion caps for igniting the powder in the barrel when firing the soldier’s rifle musket.

Originally the bayonet in its scabbard was worn on a second cross belt across the opposite shoulder, which also contained a brass belt plate with the regiment’s number on it.  Just before departing for the Crimea, the second cross belt was eliminated in some line regiments, and replaced by the waist belt.  The locket buckle at the waist, bearing the regimental number, replaced the brass shoulder belt plate.

The soldier represented by the manikin is wearing the British standard issue round canteen on a leather strap, painted a bluish colour.  The soldier does not have a linen haversack over his shoulder, normally used to carry rations.

This artifact was photographed courtesy of The Green Howards Museum, Richmond, UK.

French Zouave Officer's Kepi

A French Army of approximately 22,000 strong landed alongside the British Army (Approximately 18,000) at Kalamita Bay in the Crimea in September 1854.  The French infantry had three regiments of Zouaves.  Although the Zouaves when originally formed around 1830, and consisted of native Algerian tribesmen with French officers, by the Crimean War their uniform had become so popular that there were numerous Europeans in their ranks.  The uniform followed traditional Algerian tribal dress:  baggy red trousers stuffed in leather jambieres, a short blue jacket trimmed in their regimental colour, and a red fez with turban and tassel.  Their officers and non-commissioned officers dressed somewhat similarly, but wore a red  Chasseur-style kepi, as shown in this photograph.  The two rows of gilt braid designate the rank of lieutenant, and the wear indicates that this remarkable piece of headgear saw campaign use.

In the Crimea, the Zouaves came to the aid of the Guards Brigade during the desperate fighting in and around the Sandbag Battery.  It was said they advanced “like tigers,” and succeeded in driving the Russians out of the battery.

Interestingly, General George B. McClellan, who was an observer for a short time with the French in Sevastopol, fancied this type kepi.  He is said to have brought the design, with its low silhouette and countersunk round top, back from the Crimea to the United States.  Many officers in the American Civil War, especially those on his staff, adopted the style.  It became known as the ‘McClellan Kepi’.

This artifact was photographed courtesy of the Guards Museum, London, UK.

Captain Henry Thompson, commanding A Company, 6th Michigan Cavalry, I’m sure, felt that the charge General Custer ordered at Hunterstown was too brash a move.  Because of a bend in the road and a ridge behind the initial Confederate line, they had no idea how many of the enemy were in their front. Further, the road had a strong fence on both sides, which meant they could not deploy, but had to charge in a tight and vulnerable column.  Lastly, Custer’s artillery was plainly already deploying by the time the order was given, thus negating its purpose.

Whether Custer observed Thompson dragging his feet to obey the order, or saw that the men of A Company were skittish in their saddles, he sprang into action.  Telling his staff to remain behind, he rode in front of A Company, drew his saber, and said something like, “I’ll lead you today, boys!”  With that he was off, a Brigadier General leading Thompson and his 50 odd men into the unknown – talk about high-priced help.

Hunterstown Battle

It looked promising at first, with the enemy skirmish line broken and withdrawing as the cavalrymen charged on.  Things went rapidly wrong.  As they passed the Gilbert Farm on their right, and pressed deeper into the Confederates, they basically entered a kill zone.  They took severe fire from the farm buildings and fields on their right, as well as suffering sustained fire from their front.

Then it really went bad.  Almost instantaneously their entire officer command structure disappeared.  Custer was unhorsed, Thompson was wounded and unhorsed, and their third, and only other officer, was thrown to the ground by his mount.  Having now had time to react, other elements from the Confederate rear guard hidden from sight over the ridge came into view charging down on the now confusing melee.

Custer was saved only by the quick and gallant actions of one of the troopers, who carried him on the back of his horse through the Confederates to Federal lines.  Thompson was also carried back, but the third officer was apparently captured.

This incident was overshadowed by Custer’s heroic charge the very next day (3 July 1863) with the entire Michigan Wolverine Brigade, and very little has been mentioned of this debacle in basic history books.  It does, however, remind one of a similar futile and ill-fated charge under another flamboyant commander not so many years before in the Crimea – “The Charge of the Light Brigade.”

Custer’s actions, although not inconsistent with what I’ve read about him, were rash to say the least.  To this writer, he wasted his men’s lives.  On the other hand, although you might fault him for his judgement, you certainly can’t argue with his courage.

Sunny, before his winter coat

Today, I went to our stables, the wonderful Saw Horse Farm, run by Wendy Dutterer, in Hunterstown, Pennsylvania, to ride my horse, Sunny.  He is taken excellent care of there, and has grown his own lush winter coat.  It was a great ride, but a searing cold day.  When I ride and see the horses on brisk days like this, I am reminded of the plight of the horses in the Crimean War.

Numerous horses were required by a mid-19th century army.  Not merely for the cavalry and horse artillery, but for all the senior officers of infantry regiments, and the many staff officers.  Some wealthier officers brought several horses.  All of these animals had to be transported by water from England to the Crimea in sailing or steam-driven ships.  This could take anywhere from weeks to months, depending on the speed of the ships.

Over 150 horses of the Cavalry Division were lost during deployment to the Crimea.  In one bad storm, it was necessary to shoot injured horses, who became wild and uncontrollable below decks.

Many horses were rendered unserviceable by the rigors of the voyage.  These losses had a near crippling effect on the cavalry.  Those that made it intact, had to face severe climate changes, and one of the worst winters recorded in Crimean history.

It had been planned that remounts would be purchased from various local horse traders, but like so many plans for this badly mismanaged war, this one fell apart quickly and drastically.  Captain Louis Nolan, the famous staff officer who brought the order to Lord Lucan prompting the ill-fated “Charge of the Light Brigade,” was even tasked to travel across Syria and overland to the staging area at Varna on the Black Sea, with the mission of purchasing remounts and transport horses along the way.  He was only modestly successful.  There were insufficient horses for sale anywhere enroute, at the staging area, or in the Crimea.  Those horses that were available were smaller, often weak, and frequently unserviceable for cavalry, artillery, or even transport requirements.

Not long after landing on the Crimean coast, the savage winter set in and took its toll.  The horses brought from England were hardly used to the unbearable Crimean temperatures or conditions – colic and death were everywhere among these unfortunate animals.

By far the most disastrous loss of horses, however, was a direct result of that unhappy charge by the Light Brigade into a gauntlet of Russian guns.  The charge, in about 25 minutes, cost the British army over 100 men killed, but perhaps the most telling catastrophe was the loss of horses.  Around 400 were killed and many more put out of service.  It was the loss of horses which left the Light Brigade unfit for further action as a unit.

Two horses of particular note were in the Light Brigade’s charge: the mount of Captain Nolan, the first casualty of the affair, and, Ronald, Lord Cardigan’s horse.  I will tell their tale tomorrow.

Officers, 39th Regiment, with a horse not unlike Sunny

Captain Halford, 5th Dragoon Guards

Captain Heneage, Coldstream Guards

Captain Wilkinson, 9th Regiment

Lieutenant Yates, 11th Hussars

Officers, 39th Regiment

There were many dogs with the British in the Crimea, including this one with officers of the 57th Regiment of Foot.

[This is a fictional tale by Will Hutchison, based on a very real story]

The war had begun.  Britain and France, unlikely bedfellows, were joined, with the help of Sardinia, against Russia – ostensibly to protect “poor, invaded, Turkey.”  As the 1st Battalion, Scots Fusilier Guards marched to the ships, they were led by a proud, prancing Sticks, his black and brown coat shining in the sun.

The marching troops passed by the amazed butcher along the way.  Private Gorman, marching near the head of the column, noticed Sticks’ back stiffen, his head tilt slightly higher, and he could have sworn he heard Sticks sniff loudly as he marched past his former master.

The sea journey was uneventful, except in choppy waters – Sticks being one of the few who did not tear his insides out retching over the rail.  Varna, along the western coast of the Black Sea was the army’s staging area.  It was also where cholera hit the British and French forces – hard – sometimes killing a hundred men in a day.  Sticks watched over his brothers in arms, adding joy to the last few moments of their lives when the sickness consumed them.  He was saddened by the losses, which cut his new friends down within hours of showing the first signs of illness.

“I think I have it, Sticks, heaven help me,” Sean Gorman pronounced one morning, when a grey pallor appeared on his face.  Sticks whined, remained with his friend … but he seemed to know that Sean would not succumb … or perhaps he willed it.  By the third day, it was determined that Sean had serious diarrhea, but not the cholera.  In time he recovered and was back with the regiment.

The real Sticks, whose name was actually "Bob" - This wonderful sketch is courtesy of an unknown artist

The regiment finally moved across the Black Sea to the Crimea, and a confrontation with the Russians.  Sticks first saw action at the Alma River, where the Scots Fusilier Guards were in the thick of a frontal assault on a Russian position fortified with cannon.  While they waited to assault, solid shot and shell rained down upon them perilously.

“What the divil is he aboot, Private Gorman?” asked the Sergeant Major, looking behind his line of soldiers, who were hugging the ground as close as possible.  He was watching Sticks cavorting about the field to their rear like he was playing with toy balls on a London green.

“He’s…he’s chasin’ after them cannon balls, Sar’nt Major.  He’s been doin’ it fer the longest time.”  They had been under intense cannon fire for over an hour.  The men’s nerves were frayed, stretched to the limit.  Watching this tiny dog scampering about was giving them a calming hope of survival.

“Ach, he is a charmer, that one,” said the Sergeant Major, laughing.  “You lads take heed now,” he bellowed.  “If the wee Sticks can stand this hell, then I’m damned sure we kin stand it.”  There were shouts of “Aye, that’s the God’s truth!” and “Charge on, Sticks, lad!”

The attack soon began in earnest.  First they crossed the Alma … where Sticks found he could swim, and Private Gorman went flat on his face in the water.  As the regiment moved up a gradual slope toward the enemy, men began to fall from the ranks.

Sticks would run to each, sniffing, prodding.  If the man lay still, he’d go on to the next.  If the man moved, he’d bark loudly until other soldiers or one of the bandmen, who were used to carry wounded to the rear, came up to aid the fallen man.  Sticks was utterly fearless and relentless. There were times when he ran so fast he outstretched the moving line of guardsmen, and had to be called back – bullets kicking up ground around him.

An officer went down, hit once in the leg.  It was the young lieutenant who had been Officer of the Day when Sean found Sticks in the snow. The ground where he lay was exposed except for a pile of rocks nearby.  The officer was hit again in the arm while lying on the ground. Sticks ran to his side and began dancing around, barking.  Sean heard the bark and recognized the wounded officer.  He moved quickly, grabbing the officer by his shoulder belt and coatee collar, dragging him behind the rocks.

“Good work, Sticks, lad,” he said, “but ya better bide here behind these rocks.  It’s no a safe place out there.”

Two bandsmen with an improvised stretcher came up.  Sean ran on to catch the regimental line moving ever closer to the Russians.  He looked back over his shoulder. “Stay – boy!  Stay!”

There was, of course, little or no chance of Sticks “staying.”

[The Conclusion, Part VI, will be along tomorrow with more of the real story behind the fictional tale.]

{Photograph at top taken by Roger Fenton}