…Anglo-French Squadron in 1854.
(From the notes of an eyewitness and participant in this event.)
"In the December 1854 issue of Morskoi Sbornik there was published an article "The attack on Kamchatka by an Anglo-French squadron in August 1854," based on completely unreliable information regarding the repulse of the Anglo-French squadron's attack on the Petropavlovsk port. Thus, details of a famous defeat of a hostile attempt on our homeland's eastern limits was made known to Russia in an incomplete fashion, and mainly from the aforesaid article. As a participant in this event, I want to present it in a fuller and more accurate form, so I consider myself obliged to publish extracts from the notes I made at the time. I am an old seaman and soldier, and have no inclination to hone my ability to write a technical work. I am unacquainted with literary style, and I am not attracted by the author's fame. Yet I am accustomed to respect facts and honor the truth. That is what sets me to writing a few truthful words about an event of glorious honor for the Russian sailor and soldier—simply and accurately, without literary pretensions.
Highest Order to the fleet No. 1271, dated 16 December 1853, appointed me assistant to the military governor of Kamchatka, captain of the port of Petropavlovsk, and commander of the 47th Naval Équipage. Consequently I made a winter journey to my new posting and arrived at Irkutsk in March. At the beginning of April 1854 I was at the village of Lanchenovo on the Shilka River in the Nerchinsk District. Here I encountered 500 soldiers gathered from the 12th, 13th, and 14th Siberian Battalions under the direction of Ensign Glein, who had been assigned to Sitkha along with some of the soldiers. The first thing I did here was take measures to prevent the spread of springtime fevers in the force. Then I set to instructing newly drafted personnel in military movements that I myself learned from European instructors in Turkey in 1848. Among other things, I trained in quickly forming up and maneuvering by signal horn, fencing with the bayonet against hanging ball-shaped targets fashioned from straw and grass, which during rest periods also served as pillows. For the practical use of such pillows I am indebted to the example of Polish gymnasts serving as sailors on Black Sea ships. Fortunately, it was not necessary to have marksmenship training since over half of the soldiers were originally Siberian bear hunters and proved to be masters of this art. I also won't hide the original method by which I trained sailors to maneuver in extended order in broken terrain. I selected a hilly and woody spot, then invited village girls to stroll on over to where I had led my command. I then exercised the young soldiers in hiding behind trees, bushes, and rocks, and had them perform every kind of evolution for a soldier in extended order, thus quickly surrounding the "enemy" in a flash by signals. I had them change front in each of the extended formations and move to the attack so that not one of the "enemy" could flee and hide. With jokes and in good humor, as if in play, the wild soldiers became accustomed to fighting on land and skillfully using terrain. As for the "enemy," after the exercise they gathering in my yard and here shared songs, rattled a drum, blew through a comb, and did not stop dancing until late at night. All this helped maintain the most jolly spirits in my command, and no thoughts of privations and dangers soon to come clouded anyone's head.
On 3 May we began preparing a force afloat using rafts made from branches and tree trunks, six barges, twelve officer boats, and the steamship Argun. It was given to me to take the ship down the river from the Shilka factory to the upper Amur where the Shilka joined with the Argun. Not having any map or navigator, I could only undertake transporting the ship upon the commander-in-chief's assurance that I would not be held responsible for what events might occur or any damages from underwater rocks and trees. Even so, I depended on my experience sailing the Danube in 1828, '29, and '30, when I learned how to determine the channel by the currents, appearance of the shore, and the turns of the river. So, on 14 May, accompanied by the ringing of the bells of the blessed holy Orthodox church of the Transfiguration of Our Lord, our steamship let herself into the current at the head of our flotilla. Our force consisted of 52 parts comprising over 1000 soldiers, 100 mounted Cossacks, a light battery, a herd of cattle, provisions, and a choir with musicians. In three days the steamer reached her goal and stopped at our furthest outlying settlement, Ust-Streletskii. Continuing onward under the leadership of Nikolai Nikolaevich Murav'ev, on 17 May we descended into the Amur, a large river flowing between islands and high banks. On 12 June we stopped at Kizi Island, less than 80 miles from the river's mouth. After staying there for two days, I was sent to the port of de Castries with 400 soldiers by crossing Lake Kizi on the steamer Argun with boats in tow and then traversing marshes. We came there in three days and in that time covered 16 miles. During the march soldiers used stretchers to carry ammunition, provisions of rusk and groats, and the belongings of Captain-Lieutenant Karalov, Engineer Lieutenant Muravinskii, and myself. The way was very hard. In many places while crossing the marsh we had to cut down trees and branches to make bridges and crossways. In some places we had to jump from one small mound to another… The two reindeer we took with us for riding turned out to be of little use due to the ill fit of the saddles and an inability to ride, so we had to go on foot. The whole detachment was fed with salt beef, soup made from boiled wild greens, and ramson (bear's garlic) gathered along the way. We drank brick tea usually boiled in the soldiers' kettles. This tea is a lifesaving counter against marsh miasmas. In this manner, accompanied by a local inhabitant, a semi-savage Goldi who served as our guide, we came out onto the shores of the Tatar Strait. Although weary from the hard journey, the familiar sea atmosphere revived me, and a six-mile walk along the shore brought us to de Castries' port. We spent the night here waiting for Murav'ev, and the next day were carried away by the transport Dvina which had come for us from Petropavlovsk…"
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Amicalement
Armand
