A Crimean Winter of Discontent: The Crimean War Letters of William John Rous

By Ian Fletcher

'As the snow fell on the face it froze, and my hair was matted with ice, and icicles formed on my eyelashes. So intense was the cold that whenever I was compelled in visiting the sentries or otherwise to face the blast, my nose burst out bleeding, which with the exposure exhausted one so much, that it was only the certainty of never rising again that prevented me throwing myself down in the snow.'

This is just one of many lurid passages from the letters of William John Rous, who arrived in the Crimea in December 1854 with his regiment, the 90th (Perthshire) Regiment. Throughout the following months Rous wrote a series of letters describing the ordeal of life in the trenches before Sevastopol in graphic detail. These letters have remained unpublished ever since. Now though Ian Fletcher, one of the leading authorities on the Crimean War, has edited and illustrated Rous’s work for republication.

The letters were written during what was the most controversial period of the Crimean War for the British army, for it was during this period that the shortcomings in the army were cruelly exposed during a bitter winter which saw more British soldiers die of cold, disease and overwork than were killed through enemy action.

Rous’s words bring home the terrible conditions in the trenches, the lack of sleep, the endless overwork, the constant fear and threat of a Russian sortie, not to mention the ever-present dangers posed by the Russian guns inside the city. Rous’s experience sheds new light on one of the most famous but tragic campaigns ever fought by the British army.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pen and Sword
• Release date: Jun 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781399062152

Ian Fletcher

Ian Fletcher has established a reputation as a Napoleonic historian of the first rank, particularly on the British army in the Peninsular. He has been widely published and among his several titles for Osprey are Elite 52 Wellington's Foot Guards and Campaign 59 Vittoria 1813.

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Introduction

Considering the immense hardships which British soldiers had to endure in the siege lines before Sevastopol during the Crimean War, it is remarkable that so many of them managed to write vivid, informative and enjoyable accounts of their experiences. Indeed, the war produced a rich vein of memoirs into which generations have tapped ever since. It is all the more remarkable when one actually considers just how difficult conditions were. Think of it; assuming a man’s camp was situated on the bare, windswept Sapoune heights, he had to march well over a mile, often carrying heavy kit, before beginning his shift in the trenches before Sevastopol. During this time, he faced continual dangers from both Russian sharpshooters and Russian artillery, in addition to which there was the ever constant threat of attack, particularly at night. Then, after the man’s shift – which usually involved much hard work – was completed, he would trudge wearily all the way back to camp where, if he was lucky, he would take a cup of hot chocolate or coffee and something to eat, before turning in for a few hours’ sleep before repeating the whole exercise once again. It was something which William Rous wrote of in January 1855:

If a man had to march the seven miles from Balaklava to the siege lines the trials were even greater. And yet, despite the tremendous hardships and fatigues many a man managed to keep a journal of their experiences in the Crimea and it is upon their memoirs that much of our information about the war has been gleaned. Letters and diaries written whilst on campaign in the Crimea was nothing new, of course. During the Peninsular War of 1808-14, scores of Wellington’s officers and men – mainly the former – kept diaries whilst on campaign or wrote letters home to their families, many of which found their way into print, whilst others wrote up their experiences after the war had ended. Some of these very same men, George Bell for example, managed to see service in both the Peninsular War and the Crimean War, thus bridging the gap between the two major wars fought by the British Army in the first half of the nineteenth century.

Like the memoirs and letters written in the Peninsula, Crimean War literature falls into two main categories; those written during the actual conflict and those written up during the years afterwards. It is an important distinction, for the two categories often reflect very different views and opinions. For example, those tired, cold and hungry souls who wrote up their journals after coming off duty in the trenches before Sevastopol often had little cause for optimism. Many were heartily sick of the war, they could never quite grasp the reason why they were there in the first place, and with the onset of the terrible winter of 1854-55 few could see a satisfactory end to the war. Their views change with the tide of the campaign. The Alma brought about optimism for a swift end to the campaign, something which was quickly dampened following the opening of the first bombardment, after which it soon became clear that Sevastopol was to be a very tough nut to crack. Balaklava followed, and with it the Charge of the Light Brigade, an event which would become one of the most famous episodes in military history, yet so few realised it at the time. Inkerman and the Great Storm of 14 November increased the pessimism in the British camp, whilst the winter and the almost total breakdown of the supply system only served to turn the officers and men against those in command and the government in England.

Two non-combatants, but two men who had a great impact on the public’s perception of the Crimean War both at the time and still today. William Howard Russell, of the Times, whose graphic reports of conditions in the Crimea played a significant role in the downfall of Aberdeen’s government and brought home the awful sufferings of British troops before Sevastopol.

The photographer Roger Fenton. His photographs from the Crimea largely documented the siege of Sevastopol, the British camps and the many portraits of officers and men. There are no photographs of the early battles nor are there any following the fall of Sevastopol. It was down to James Robertson to supply photos of Sevastopol after it was finally taken.

Today, war correspondents are accepted as a necessary evil, accompanying armed forces wherever and whenever they can in order to send reports home from the respective theatre of war. But in 1854 they were a very new thing indeed. William Howard Russell was allowed to accompany the British army to the Crimea in order to send back his reports to The Times in London. Indeed, he would emerge as the most famous of the many reporters that were present in the Crimea and is generally regarded as the first war correspondent. There were others, of course, and artists too, particularly those sent by the Illustrated London News, for in an age when photography was in its infancy the British public had to rely upon the skilfully drawn pictures by men like Constantin Guys whose pictures from the Crimea adorned many an issue between 1854 and 1856.

But it was Russell who left the most vivid descriptions of the war, and although a picture may indeed tell a thousand words Russell’s graphic and beautiful passages perhaps illuminated the war more effectively than any pictures ever did. Indeed, his lurid reports from the Crimea were largely responsible for the various government inquiries into conditions at the front. In fact, Russell proved to be a great barometer of feeling within the British camp, his lurid despatches from the Crimea not only succeeding in inflaming an increasingly despondent British population, but helping to bring about the downfall of Aberdeen’s government.

The war continued through the winter and into the spring of 1855, with Anglo-French relations becoming strained, particularly following the abortive expedition to Kerch in May 1855 and the disastrous failure of the assault on Sevastopol on 18 June. Even the onset of warmer summer weather could do little do raise the spirits of the army and when the British failed so disastrously for a second time, on 8 September, their anger and frustration spilled out into the pages of the letters and diaries, their exasperation increased by the fact that the French succeeded in their attack on the important Malakhov, which effectively signalled the end for Sevastopol.

Each entry in every contemporary diary was written with the correspondent not knowing whether he would survive the campaign. Contrast these writings with those written up in the years afterwards. True, they still reflect a degree of anger against those who had brought about their miserable existence on the Sapoune, but their feelings were tempered by the knowledge that, even as they wrote about the traumas of the first winter and the various other negative aspects of the campaign, they could write knowing that there was always going to be a ‘successful’ end to the campaign as far as the allies were concerned. More significant, they could write about their experiences, no matter how horrendous, safe in the knowledge that they would survive and live long enough to see their reminiscences published. It is an important distinction.

It is also interesting to compare the reminiscences written by the allied participants of the Crimean War with those written by the defenders inside Sevastopol itself. It may appear to be an obvious comparison but it is interesting to see just how often the Russians complained of the very same things that their enemies did. The food was poor and in short supply, the medical services were overworked and sickness rife, and there was certainly a feeling amongst many inside Sevastopol that those in positions of authority had abandoned them, much in the same way that the British soldiers felt badly let down by the government at home in England. Death was never far away either, with allied shells crashing into the town with frightening regularity. In fact, the officers and men on all sides were brothers in arms, complaining of the same things, enjoying much the same of what little comforts they could find, and looking forward to a satisfactory end to the fighting. The problem was, of course, that only one side could lay claim to this at Sevastopol. Indeed, the men on all sides may well have been brothers in arms but they had very differing outlooks when it came to the sharp end of business in the Crimea. On one side, the British and French,along with their Turkish and Sardinian allies, looked longingly for the day when they could finally enter the great prize, Sevastopol, to destroy the docks and to return home afterwards. The Russians, on the other hand, were defending their homeland, and they defended Sevastopol with a gritty determination that was to carry them through 349 days of the siege inflicting great misery upon the allies whilst suffering horrendous losses themselves, including thousands of civilians, men, women and children. Perhaps the similarity between the respective British and Russian letters is not that surprising after all, for the letters written by British and French soldiers during the Napoleonic Wars also cover the very same things; they complain about the lack of food, pay, of the hardship of campaign life, of the weather and the endless marches.

The Crimean War produced many fine eye-witness accounts on both sides. Perhaps the most famous writer was Leo Tolstoy. The young Tolstoy was a lieutenant in the Russian artillery, serving mainly in the Flagstaff Bastion, or No.4 Bastion as the Russians called it, and his experiences throughout the defence of Sevastopol provided him with much inspiration for his great work on the Napoleonic Wars. War and Peace On the British side, William Russell remains perhaps the most famous journalist, although as a war correspondent his observations can never really be considered in the same vein as the fighting man who lived with death every day throughout the siege. Men like Henry Clifford, C.T. Wilson, and George Paget, were the men who found themselves at the sharp end of things at the front, although Russell remains one of the most vivid and enjoyable of all British writers in the Crimea.

Over 160 years have passed since the Crimean War, a war which has been well documented in countless volumes over the years. But although we are afforded a far-off glimpse of the Crimea thanks to the photographers of the day the Crimean War remains as distant as ever. Therefore, the story of the war – and of any war – can only really be told through the writings of the participants, those Russians, British and French who lived, fought and even died there. Only they really knew what it waslike to storm the Great Redoubt at the Alma, to charge with the Light Brigade at Balaklava, to surprise the allies at Inkerman, and to defend the Redan and the Malakhov heroically for 349 memorable days.

The origins of this particular book and memoir go back to 1991 when I was researching a book on the Foot Guards during the Peninsular War and Waterloo campaigns. I was going through the various records at the Regimental Headquarters of the Coldstream Guards when I cam across a set of unpublished letters written between 1812 and 1814 by John Edward Cornwallis Rous, an ensign in the Coldstream Guards. A quicklook through the pages of Who’s Who led me to Lieutenant General the Honourable Sir William Rous, KCB, OBE, who very kindly showed me more papers and artefacts relating to his great-grandfather, who later became 2nd Earl of Stradbroke. The letters were subsequently published in 1992 under the title A Guards Officer in the Peninsula. Sir William, who is sadly no longer with us, was justifiably proud of seeing his forebear’s letters in print and a short time after their publication he sent me a second set of letters, written by John Rous’s nephew, William John Rous, who served in the Crimea with the 90th Light Infantry before transferring to the Scots Fusilier Guards. When Sir William sent the Crimean War letters to me he added a note saying that although he would like to see the letters in print they were probably not a viable financial proposition for a publisher, given that Rous’s regiment did not arrive in the Crimea until after the battles of the Alma, Balaklava and Inkerman.And so nothing was done and the letters have subsequently remained sitting on a shelf ever since.

Although William John Rous, whose own father, William Rufus Rous, had served during the latter stages of the Peninsular War along with his brother, John, had missed the three most famous battles of the Crimean War his letters are, in my opinion, worthy of publication. Not only are they entertaining in their own way, but they paint a vivid picture