The Sebastopol Sketches Page 2
Not to mention the Danube, its islands and its banks, some occupied by us, others by the Turks, you could see the town, the fortress and the little forts of Silistria as though on the palm of your hand. You could hear the cannon fire and rifle shots which continued day and night, and with a field-glass you could make out the Turkish soldiers . . . The spectacle was truly beautiful, especially at night. At night our soldiers usually set about trench work and the Turks threw themselves upon them to stop them; then you should have seen and heard the rifle fire . . . I amused myself, watch in hand, counting the cannon shots that I heard, and I counted 100 explosions in the space of a minute. And yet, from nearby, all this wasn’t at all as frightening as might be supposed. At night, when you could see nothing, it was a question of who would burn the most powder, and at the very most 30 men were killed on both sides by these thousands of cannon shots . . . [5]
After the lifting of the siege, the Russian army entered Bucharest, and once more the round of theatre-going, gambling and dissipation began. It was at this time that Tolstoy received a flattering letter from Nekrasov, informing him that Boyhood had been accepted by the Contemporary. Suddenly he decided he had had enough of sitting on the sidelines: he wanted to experience warfare not as a spectator but as a participant. He petitioned Prince Gorchakov, the Russian general who had led the siege of Silistria, to send him anywhere where service was at its most active. Uppermost in his thoughts was the Crimea. Rumours of events there had been filtering through to the Russian forces on the Danube for some time. Tolstoy did not have long to wait: on 19 July the staff left Bucharest for the Russian frontier.
The reasons for the curiously unnecessary conflict that came to be known as the Crimean War lay in the refusal of Nicholas I to countenance the growth of French influence at Constantinople and his desire to restore the dominant position Russia had enjoyed there in 1833. The hostility of France was a foregone conclusion; Nicholas was, however, relying on the support of Prussia, the friendship of Austria and the neutrality of Britain—none of which were forthcoming. Thus instead of an easy war with Turkey alone, he had to fight a complex series of actions against a multiple enemy which included British, French and Sardinian as well as Turkish forces. The Crimean campaign, which followed the siege of Silistria, was the most important of these actions: it was initiated by the British and French forces who on 2 September 1854, after sailing in full view of the Russians, past Sebastopol, the only Russian naval base on the Black Sea, landed at Eupatoria. They met no opposition from the unprepared and disorganized Russians, whose naval commander, Admiral Menshikov, had repeatedly declared his belief that the landing would not take place until 1855.
Tolstoy reached the Russian frontier town of Kishinyov on 9 September, the day after the battle of the Alma, at which the disarray of Russian strategy had led to a costly defeat at the hands of the allies. The staff set up its headquarters at Kishinyov, and it was from there that Tolstoy was informed that he had been promoted to the rank of sub-lieutenant. The news of the landings and the defeat affected him profoundly. Now that the fighting was taking place on Russian soil, he felt directly involved. The town life of Kishinyov, with its balls, intrigues and entertainments, upset him more than the dissipations of Bucharest, and he at once threw himself into a project which he had contemplated even before arriving in Russia. This was the foundation of an army gazette—independent of the official army newspaper The Russian Veteran—which would publish articles by officers containing accurate accounts of battles, war stories, reports of heroic deeds, soldiers’ songs and articles on artillery and military engineering. The aim of the gazette was to be the improvement of the forces’ morale and the education of the common soldiery. Tolstoy intended to fund it from the proceeds of the sale of the large family house at Yasnaya Polyana, which he had recently instructed his brother-in-law to carry out. He wrote requesting the sum of 1,500 roubles to be sent to him. It would, of course, be necessary to obtain official permission to publish such a news-sheet, and Tolstoy prepared a specimen issue (composed largely of articles he had written himself) for presentation to Prince Gorchakov, who forwarded it to the War Minister. Tolstoy appears to have believed that the idea of a “spontaneous” military publication of this type would have some appeal to the military-minded Nicholas I; yet he must surely have known that the Tsar, who had succeeded to the throne amid the booming of cannon on the Senate Square and the bloody retribution that followed the Decembrist conspiracy of 1825, would never agree to let the officers in his army take matters into their own hands in the way Tolstoy was suggesting. At all events, Tolstoy’s request was refused, and when the 1,500 roubles eventually arrived from Yasnaya Polyana he gambled them away at cards in a single night.
This setback did not, however, lessen Tolstoy’s desire to put his literary gift to service in the patriotic Russian cause. As news of the Russian victory at Balaclava began to come through, followed by accounts of the defeat at Inkerman on 24 October, the conviction grew within him that he must gain some experience of the fighting at first hand. After Inkerman, at which the Russian force was driven back with a loss of some 10,000 killed and wounded, Tolstoy’s diary began to register with clarity the twin strands of his attitude to the war—a fierce and aggressive patriotism, and an equally fierce and aggressive desire that the military authorities and the Russian people as a whole should be apprised of the truth concerning the glaring deficiencies of the Russian military machine. His diary entry for 2 November, written at Odessa, reflected this:
Since the time the Anglo-French forces landed, we have had three battles with [the enemy] . . . The first, the action fought along the Alma on 8 September, in which the enemy attacked and routed us; the second, Liprandi’s[6] action of 13 September, in which we were the attackers and the eventual victors, and the third, the terrible action led by Dannenberg,[7] in which we were again the attackers and were once more put to rout. A treasonable, an outrageous action. 10th and 11th divisions attacked the enemy’s left flank, turned it and spiked 37 pieces. Then the enemy brought up 6,000 carbines,[8] only 6,000 against our 30 [thousand] strong force. And we retreated, losing some 6,000 brave men. We were compelled to retreat, for because of the impassable state of the roads half of our troops had no artillery at all and, God knows why, there were no sharpshooters either. Terrible slaughter. It will weigh upon the souls of many! Lord, forgive them. The news of this action has made an impact. I have seen old men weeping and sobbing, and young men swearing to kill Dannenberg. Great is the moral strength of the Russian people. Many political truths will come to the surface and develop in this house of tribulation for Russia. The sense of ardent love for the fatherland that is arising and flowing from Russia’s misfortunes will long leave its trace on her.
After Inkerman, the Russian forces withdrew to Sebastopol, where they were based, and the winter siege began. The tales of the heroic defence of Sebastopol that reached Tolstoy in Kishinyov impelled him to apply at once for a transfer to the besieged town, where he arrived on 7 November 1854.
The most accurate and comprehensive account of the siege area was given by a member of the British force, Captain H. C. Elphinstone, RE, and was published in 1859 as the Journal of the Operations Conducted by the Corps of Royal Engineers. Although the topography employed by the British differed in some respects from that used by the Russians, Elphinstone’s account still makes the best introduction to the layout of the siege. I have inserted Russian topography where it differs from the British:
An extensive inlet of the sea, called the harbour of Sebastopol, which runs inland to a distance of nearly four miles, divides this fortress into two distinct parts, a north and a south side perfectly separated from each other. The only means of communication between either is “by boat” across this harbour, or else by making on land a circuit of many miles. This separation of the two sides is not limited to the harbour only, but extends to the ground beyond, for several miles to the eastward; where the wide and swampy valley of the Tchernaya, bounded
on each side by lofty and precipitous rocks, renders communication from one side to the other extremely difficult at all times and during the rainy seasons quite impracticable, excepting in one or two places where roads and bridges have been established.
The separation of the two sides is so complete that the force investing the one side would find it impossible to render ready assistance to a force besieging the other; and they would be utterly unable to supply each other with provisions and ammunition. Each would have to act independently and trust exclusively to its own resources.
A complete investment was therefore impracticable without the employment of two separate armies, each having its own base of operations, and each of sufficient strength to compete by itself with the total force of the Russians in the Crimea. Again, the capture of either side by no means necessitated the fall of the other; for neither can be said to have any command over the other, on account of the great distance between them; and in the event of either side falling to the possession of the attacking party, the great basin would still form an almost insurmountable barrier to the further advance of the besiegers; so that to obtain entire possession of Sebastopol two independent attacks, one against the south, the other against the north front, would be requisite . . . [9]
The principal defences faced the sea, and on that front were of permanent character, very extensive, and armed with powerful batteries. At the entrance to the harbour, on the south side, stood the two forts of the Quarantine Bastion [Quarantine battery] and Alexander [Alexander battery], mounting 60 to 90 guns respectively; the former a closed earthen redoubt, with its guns mounted en barbette, commanding the Quarantine Harbour; the latter a permanent work of masonry, casemated, and likewise closed at the gorge by a crenellated wall . . . All these defences towards the sea were of so formidable a character as to nullify one of the great advantages which the possession of a most powerful fleet gave the allies over the Russians; so much so that the co-operation of the fleet in a joint attack with the land forces could not produce any decisive effect upon works of such strength and magnitude . . .
On the land side the works of defence to the south of Sebastopol were at this time [1854] comparatively trifling, but they occupied very commanding positions and were placed on ground which nature had strongly fortified.
A single stone wall (about twelve feet high and six feet thick), crenellated, but quite exposed, surrounded part of the town, and extended partly as a “bastion trace” and partly as an “indented line” from the Artillery Bay to the Central Bastion [5th bastion]. A wide and steep ravine, answering the purpose of a huge ditch, ran in front of the line, from the Quarantine to the Central Bastion, and so completely separated it from the ground beyond that all approaches by trenches on that side were subsequently found to be quite impracticable. The wall, along its whole extent, was lined with numerous pieces of artillery, of which those in the most prominent position were of heavy metal. Exclusive of the 56 guns in the Artillery Fort [7th bastion], about 42 pieces of ordnance of various calibres were then in position in the rear of the crenellated wall.
To the south-east of the Central Bastion, but separated from it by a deep ravine, across which a dry stone wall had been hastily constructed, and armed with about 24 field pieces, was an earthen battery, nearly completed, called the Flagstaff Bastion [4th bastion], occupying a very commanding site, and finished with 12 heavy guns.
Such were the works of defence on the west side of Sebastopol. Of these the Flagstaff Bastion formed the key, for it took in reverse all the works to the west of it. But although the possession of this battery might have led to the fall of the town side of the place, it would have been difficult to hold it without at the same time obtaining a footing on the eastern side as the ground and works to the east of the Dockyard Creek in their turn commanded this battery, and took it in reverse.
On the eastern side, which was perfectly separated from the western by deep and precipitous ravines at the head of the Dockyard Creek, were the following works:
1st An earthen battery called from its shape the “Redan” [“tooth”—the Russians called this the 3rd bastion] which was armed with 17 heavy guns, and at which large working parties were still busily engaged. Immediately in its rear, a dry stone wall, skirting the brow of the hill, branched off in a westerly direction to a place subsequently called the Barrack Battery where at present 10 field pieces were in position to flank the Redan and the ground to the west of it, and in the valley just beneath it, at the head of the Dockyard Creek, about a dozen field pieces, protected by a low stone wall, fully commanded all approaches to the town from the valleys beyond.
2nd The semicircular masonry tower of the Malakoff, mounting 5 heavy guns en barbette around which was a circular entrenchment, with a short flank at each end, nearly completed and armed with 10 heavy guns.
3rd A battery called the Little Redan, still incomplete but most probably armed.
4th Adjoining the harbour a considerable-sized stone building in the shape of a cross, which had been converted into a defensible barrack.
Of all these defensive works the Malakoff had the most commanding position, and formed the key of the whole of the south side of the place. It took in reverse all the works on the eastern side, and from its position on an independent high knoll afforded a good site from which to repel assaults at any time. The enemy appeared fully aware of the importance of this site and employed large working parties in strengthening it, and he had even commenced in its rear a dry stone wall, which surrounded part of the Karabelnaja suburb, and answered the purpose of an inner or second line of entrenchment . . .
The centre of the position was occupied by the three main batteries, the Flagstaff [4th bastion], Redan [3rd bastion] and Malakoff [8th bastion], powerfully armed, nearly all equally salient, and on commanding positions at the extremity of three leading spurs, by which alone an enemy could approach, and over which the garrison had full view for a distance of more than 2,000 yards to their front. The ravines between these ridges, although winding, run directly towards the batteries, and were consequently enfiladed throughout, and commanded by the enemy’s guns. Men of war likewise were moored in the dockyard and careening creeks, and at the head of the harbour, with their broadsides bearing on such of the lines of approach as might be taken by the storming parties . . .
An important feature of the defences was the complex and sophisticated system of earthworks devised by the Russian engineer General E. I. Totleben. R. Chodasiewicz, a Pole who was serving with the Russian army, noted:
This war has proved that the best kind of defence against a regular attack consists of earthworks, that can so easily be changed, altered and increased to meet the attacks. The batteries at Sebastopol were at first nothing but earth, loosely thrown up with the shovel, the embrasures were plastered with moistened clay; but when it was discovered that this was not enough, they were faced with stout wicker work. Then fascines were introduced, and finally gabions[10] were employed. The batteries were frequently found not to bear upon the required point, or the embrasures were not made so as to enable the guns to be pointed in the right direction. Whenever a discovery of this sort was made the whole was changed during the night. If no changes were required, new and more formidable works were added. In this respect Sebastopol offered unexampled advantages in the arsenal, so that there were always guns to mount in these new works. If one of the bastions of Sebastopol were to be taken, and a section made, suppose for instance of the Malakoff, it could then be traced through its different periods of existence, till it became the mass of sandbags and gabions it is at present, with the enormous embrasures firmly revetted with two or three rows of gabions. Then were added the casemates, holes dug in the ground, and covered with enormous ship-timber that was again covered with earth to the thickness of eight or ten feet, and perfectly proof to the heaviest bomb. In these the garrison, and a part of the gunners, could always find shelter; though these casemates eventually caused the loss of the Malakoff, and conseque
ntly the whole town. By this means of defence it was possible to concentrate a tremendous fire upon any given point of the trenches. The commander of every bastion and every battery had his orders in which direction he was to fire, and what guns. All these arrangements emanated from Totleben.[11]
Nicholas I had played an important personal role in the development of Russian engineering, and many of the bold and innovative advances in military technology that were successfully tested at Sebastopol were evolved under his patronage and with his encouragement. During the extensive mining operations during the siege, for example, the Russians exploded all their mines by means of electricity, using the Volta galvanic apparatus. Another of Nicholas’s interests was artillery, and here too the Russians were certainly equal or even possibly superior to their British and French adversaries. J. S. Curtiss, the author of a study of the Russian army under Nicholas I, writes:
The Russian artillery had both foot and horse batteries. Somewhat less than half of the foot batteries were field or heavy artillery, with four twelve-pound cannon, of 4.8 inch calibre, and four half-pud (18 lb.) howitzers with six-inch bore. The howitzers, with shorter barrels, were for lobbing shells at the enemy and for firing grapeshot at short range. The cannon fired roundshot, shell, and grapeshot at short range. The light batteries, including most of the horse artillery, had 6 lb. cannon (3.76 inch bore) and quarter-pud (9 lb.) howitzers. The heavier guns had an extreme range of almost twelve hundred yards, while the lighter ones carried as far as nine hundred yards.[12]