Arkadii Aleksandrovich Panaev’s account of the Battle of Eupatoria.

(From Russkaya Starina, Volume XIX, 1877, pages 300-323 of “Raskazy A. A. Panaeva” [“Memoirs of A. A. Panaev”]. Panaev was an officer of the St.-Petersburg Lancer Regiment, assigned as an aide to Prince Menshikov.)

Chapter XVI. The Eupatoria Affair

            I will now talk about the Eupatoria affair.

            It was as early as 18 December 1854 that aide-de-camp Colonel Petr Nikolaevich Volkov delivered to Prince Menshikov a letter from the Sovereign dated 10 December, and then immediately went to General Wrangel and his Eupatoria force. The contents of the letter were as follows:

     I was preparing to reply to your report of 1 December, my dear Menshikov, when yesterday evening I received a notice from Prince Gorchakov saying that he was making arrangements to send to the Crimea not only ten battalions from the 10th and 11th Divisions, but also, after them, the entire 8th Infantry Division and its artillery. As I completely approve these actions, it remains for me to demand that these significant and last[1] reinforcements find a useful purpose. If our information is correct that the enemy is preparing a landing at Eupatoria or Kacha, then his most dangerous actions may be in your rear. However, they may be delayed with cavalry, if General Wrangel understands his responsibility well. In this I have relayed my thoughts to aide-de-camp Volkov and desire that after transmitting these to you, he immediately goes to Wrangel and stays with him as long as this business remains unclear. An intention to go to Perekop appears to me to be less feasible due to its distance from Eupatoria as well as difficulties in making a landing near Perekop. But if this does come off, then the first infantry to arrive must be used to reinforce the cavalry. Hopefully, this would not happen before the arrival of the 8th Division, more combat capable then a reserve brigade. In any case, I want aide-de-camp Gerstenzweig to stay, so that if a landing is made, he can observe that proper actions are taken and that the arriving infantry is used effectively. If the enemy moves toward Perekop with large forces then it will no doubt be necessary to unite the reserve battalions with the 8th Division so that they are not defeated in detail, and then the enemy will be repulsed with all 26 battalions and 48 foot artillery pieces united with Wrangel’s cavalry, and communications with you, perhaps temporarily interrupted, will be restored.

     We hope that all of this does not happen, or at least not so soon. In such a case I suppose that the reserve battalions of the 10th and 11th Divisions will have to go to you in Sevastopol without stopping. There you will immediately use them to fill the active battalions of your regiments, and without delay separate out the reserve battalions’ cadres with their flags and battalion commanders and with at least half their complement of officers. These will be formed into combined battalions and sent as soon as possible back, at first, to Nikolaev. In regard to the 8th Division, I find that you must leave it in reserve at Perekop since in the future absolutely nothing more will be available, and without a significant force of infantry there all may be lost.

     According to information received through Vienna, I must suppose that the bombardment must have been restarted or that it will take place soon. May the merciful Lord be willing that you again so gloriously stand firm. Whether or not there will be an assault—they do not say. When everything written above about the infantry is done, then return Gerstenzweig to me—I need him.

     Concerning my sons, I know nothing since the 1st. May God allow that their departure has not made a bad impression on the troops. My wife is a little better, but is still very weak and in bed for most of the day. I will return my sons to you as soon as possible.

     I would suppose that the reserve battalions of the Minsk and Volhynia regiments should also be used to provide replacements for their regiments, with their cadres being sent back. This is all for now. I embrace you.

Always and sincerely wishing you well,

     N.

(Postscript in the tsar’s own handwriting.) I have just found out from the Moscow telegraph that my children arrived there today and should be here tomorrow, and that up to the 3rd everything was going well with you. Praise God!

Return A.d.C. Volkov to me if no landing occurs, or one is beaten off. I recommend these two A.d.C.’s to you as most excellent, capable, and reliable officers, whom I deeply love. I know them and do not willingly allow them to leave me, since I need them very much. But now matters are extremely important and you can fully[2] rely on them.”

            In the beginning of January, the task of drawing up a plan to attack Eupatoria was given to Lieutenant Colonel Batezatul, a very capable general-staff officer with Wrangel at that time.

            One morning a few days after the grand dukes had returned to St. Petersburg, Prince Menshikov summoned me. I went in to see him and found Volkov with him, just returned from Eupatoria. Due to illness, Menshikov had to receive him in his bedroom. Preoccupied, Volkov took his leave when I came in, but the prince, visibly agitated, raised himself up from his bed, stood on his feet with difficulty, and said in a halting voice, “The Sovereign fully insists on the capture and destruction of Eupatoria. He tasked Volkov to go with this expedition and allows me to deploy the 8th Division for this mission. The monarch’s will must be carried out. Even if we can destroy Eupatoria, we will not be able to hold it—it is completely open to the sea! Make ready a quick-witted courier,” concluded his excellency, “who will carry a message to Wrangel. I will have it ready soon. I am summoning Wrangel here.”

            Wrangel did not delay in coming to headquarters, and he went back right after being briefed by the commander-in-chief. After seeing him off that day, the prince came outside where I encountered him, and he said that Wrangel found the business of seizing Eupatoria too difficult and declined command of the expedition. For appearance’s sake, he had offered the excuse that as a cavalry general it would be dangerous for him to undertake a mission such as an attack on a fortified town, all the more so since in his last campaign Wrangel had still been only a squadron commander.

            “It’s a good thing he’s cautious,” concluded Menshikov, “but nonetheless I sent him right back to work out a plan of attack, judge its chances of success along with Batezatul, and then come back here with him.”

            Wrangel and Batezatul came to the commander-in-chief. Neither saw any chance of successfully taking Eupatoria and asked the prince to excuse them from any responsible part in the undertaking. The commander-in-chief then called on Stepan Aleksandrovich Khrulev to form his own opinion on attacking Eupatoria, independently of Wrangel’s views, and then as chief of staff of the artillery, help Wrangel in preparing the attack. Khrulev willingly agreed and left for Eupatoria.

            Menshikov was now assured that an attack would now take place, but still he sent me and Volkov to be present at this affair.

            In the meantime, I noticed that the commander-in-chief was using everything at his disposal to carry out the Sovereign’s directive, but inside himself he wanted the generals to refuse this Eupatoria business in spite of all his exhortations in favor of it. Giving authority to two commanders, one of whom was cautious, and the other optimistic, in a way reflected the prince’s own opinion that there was no advantage in taking Eupatoria, but in this way he could have something to satisfy the Sovereign’s concerns.

            Khrulev inspected the Eupatoria fortifications in detail through several close reconnaissances, one after the other. He then reported to the commander-in-chief that he expected he could take Eupatoria. Meanwhile, Wrangel, who did not at all share Khrulev’s hopes, wrote to the commander-in-chief that without a formal order he would not take on the responsibility of deciding whether or not to attack Eupatoria.

            Appreciating Wrangel’s very well-founded opinion, the commander-in-chief had cancelled the undertaking, but on receiving Khrulev’s report, he decided to transfer command of the Eupatoria to him.

            I was a direct witness of the moment when command of the force was transferred from Wrangel to Khrulev, and I will never forget the outstanding impression that Stepan Aleksandrovich’s predecessor made on me. Wrangel sincerely wished Khrulev success and asked that he forget service seniority and consider him, Wrangel, as just the commander of the dragoons. In his turn, Khrulev displayed his most excellent side by the delicacy and respect with which he treated Wrangel. Let me say just a little about this: during preparations for the battle, and in the action itself, Wrangel not only faithfully carried out his duties, but he also anticipated them and did not bother Khrulev with his own pieces of advice. This conduct is worthy of praise and imitation! Khrulev already had his own glory forged in battle, so Menshikov had assigned the force to him along with Wrangel so they would make joint decisions, the prince keeping in mind that the initiative of one would balance the caution of the other. When Wrangel refused command responsibility, Menshikov was not left completely at ease, but this was uncalled for, as subsequent events showed.

            After dinner On 26 January 1855, Khrulev, Volkov, and I left headquarters. Beyond the Alma, in the village of Burlyuk, we stayed overnight with Martynov, our comrade in the artillery, and the next day we rode on horseback to the Eupatoria force. The road was very muddy and it was not easy progress for our horses. When we turned straight into the plowed fields to shorten our way, the mud and dirt clumped onto the horses’ legs so much that they hardly moved. The cossacks often slipped off their horses to scrape the mud from their legs, but we on our native horses went on without stopping since they possessed the dexterity to put their legs in the muddy ground so skillfully that it did not stick to them. Wanting to investigate the peculiarity of this gait, I let the smallest and lightest of my Crimean ponies go ahead of me as I observed its walk. The placing and raising of the pony’s leg appeared to be one movement: as soon as firm ground was touched, it immediately withdrew its leg from the mud in a short quick motion. At a quicker pace, the pony not only leaned its chest forward, but also came to extract its legs from the mud at an angle to the direction of movement, in this way making them somewhat drag along the ground, leaving angled tracks in its trail. In addition, in putting one leg in front of the other, it imprinted a path, as they say, like a string, as would a fox. Thanks to the skill of this pony, I was soon able to slip away from a Tatar piquet that was following me.

            On coming near to Eupatoria, we went past salt lakes and saw a large kurgan, or burial mound, opposite the town’s right flank, from which we would be able to see the outlines of Eupatoria’s fortifications. Khrulev sent me over to this kurgan. I switched to the pony mentioned above and rode up to the kurgan with Dmitrii Podpati. At its base, I gave my companion my horse to hold and began to clamber up the kurgan’s slippery slope. On reaching the top, I saw an enemy piquet not far from where I was, and its men became alarmed, threw themselves onto their horses, and set off toward me. I ran down the kurgan and jumped onto my horse and urged it on. Behind me several mounted Tatars slid down the kurgan slope after me in pursuit. Bu I was already gone; my pony went like an arrow over the swampy fields. The Tatars fell back, calling out after me in Russian, “It’s a good thing you have one of our horses, or else you wouldn’t get away!” They fired a few shots and returned to their original position. My Greek friend had gone off to one side to divide our pursuers’ attention and also escaped.

After setting himself up behind the slimy lake in the village of Tyup-Mamai, Khrulev went on a number of reconnaissances close to Eupatoria, taking several of the persons who had come here with him. In this he drew some firing from the town and was able to determine the number of guns established in the defensive lines. After he received the order to attack Eupatoria, he moved his headquarters to an Oraz farmstead which belonged to a landowner named Avgustinovich and was near the village of Khadzhi-Tarkhan. Here he started allocating troop positions and making other preparations. Oraz was five miles from Eupatoria and closer to the center of the troop deployment than was Tyup-Mamai.

Khrulev’s hard-working aides were his chief of staff Colonel Volkov (one of the Emperor’s aides-de-camp), chief of artillery Colonel Scheideman, staff duty-officer Captain Lindener, senior quartermaster Captain Tsitovich, senior adjutant Lieutenant Mikhalev of the lancers*, and artillery Staff-Captain Martynov, assigned for special duties.

Chapter XVII.

            While continuing his reconnaissances from Oraz, Khrulev tirelessly worked not only on troop dispositions, but also issued many written orders and directives to the force. He drew up detailed instructions for collecting wounded and delivering them to first-aid points.

            According to the deployment plan, the attack was to be carried out by three columns. The center column was to deliver the main blow while the flank columns were to divert the enemy’s attention from the center. The left column was to begin the action. Besides covering the order of battle, details were set forth regarding moving the troops up to the battlefield area; their deployment into the line of battle; preparatory actions; the attack, storming, and occupation of the town; instructions to the force in case of success of failure; conduct and actions of the troops in the occupied town, and so on and so forth. In summary, everything was considered and written about in detail in large numbers of copies for distribution to each troop unit. Since the force’s main strength, the 8th Division, had not yet arrived, additional orders were drawn up beforehand to prevent delays and to help 8th Division unit commanders. These commanders were to issue these orders to their units while carrying out the force’s general instructions.

            Khrulev’s level of activity was unusual. After returning from reconnoitering in the morning, he doffed his coat, spread it out to lay down on it and be completely at ease, and gave out orders, dictated, listened through what had been written, checked it, collated directives, received unit commanders and got acquainted with them, required them to read through orders in his presence and then quizzed them in order to make sure that they understood what would be required of them. Commanders who had assignments requiring coordinated battlefield actions were required to collate and compare orders in front of Khrulev, and he corrected anything found unsuitable. Khrulev summoned adjutants and orderlies to impress their duties upon them, and then tested their understanding. He did all this while moving from table to table, or from one person to another. When he finally became tired, he lay down on a couch face upward, put his hands behind his head and crossed his legs, and continued business, not losing a minute of time. If something caught his interest, he would stand up and interrogate the person in question, and then lie down again. This activity went at a boil for a space of some days, during which it may be said that Khrulev ate almost nothing, did not drink, and hardly slept. It would happen that we would sit down for dinner, but he would not even be thinking of it. He would pass by the table and take a piece of something, lie down on the couch, quickly chew, and resume dictating. He drank tea where he found it, not bothering about a glass of his own, but upon seeing a glass somewhere, he would sip and then walk off. If he met someone not busy, that person would without fail be set to work. His friendly and kind treatment of everyone made us all eager and we were imbued with his level of activity. Each one of us worked on what he thought himself best suited for. I was tasked by Khrulev to draft a map of Eupatoria which could familiarize unit commanders with the town. Since I had never been in Eupatoria, I was forced to make the map based on oral descriptions from persons well acquainted with the town’s layout. In this I was greatly helped by the landowner, Avgustinovich. I thus used a brush and bright colors to draw up twelve examples; Khrulev approved them and distributed them to the troops.

            Working day and night, Khrulev never rested. He would not tire, thanks to the inexhaustible reserves of energy of his heroic spirit. The detailed, exact, and most carefully tailored dispositions were ready; they answered all possible questions that could arise anytime during the course of the operation. The general character of the order of battle as well as of all the rest of the orders was such as to inspire the troops in the certainty of Eupatoria’s capture. A withdrawal was never mentioned. The troops were excited at the proximity of the enemy and the prospect of the loot which might be offered by a captured town doomed to destruction. Town squares were designated for collecting booty, a well-ordered evacuation of the town was demanded, and fires were absolutely forbidden. It was ordered that the very first task was to save the icons and church plate from the town church. Once the town was captured, excess troops would be ordered to return to their previous positions and a dinner prepared for them. “Nothing so baits soldiers onto the enemy as the promise of loot,” said Khrulev. “Allow a soldier to feather his nest at the enemy’s expense, and the devil knows where he’ll get into!”

            Truly, during the whole campaign I never saw such high morale among the troops, such zeal for action, as I noticed in the soldiers brought together for storming Eupatoria.

            The orderliness of the preparations for battle created full confidence in the force commander and certainty of success. We did not know for sure the current state of the Eupatoria garrison. We only saw fortifications as yet unfinished and equipped with a small number of guns. Our intentions had to be hidden from the enemy and of course all possible measures were taken for this. The infantry was still on the march and nothing had been officially told to the cavalry. In the meantime, the business was set for 4 February 1855, to begin immediately upon the arrival of the 8th Division. Scaling ladders needed to be prepared and this task was given to the squadrons of General Korf’s lancer division to carry out in secret. The squadron commanders arranged for the making of ladders in their headquarters yards and in closed barns, and did not allow workers out for fear of loose talk.

            At this time there was a private in the Yelisavetgrad Lancer Regiment’s 3rd Squadron, of many years service and a Pole by birth. He was assigned to the squadron courtyard with the horses of his commander, Captain Dobrovol’skii, and plotted to commit treason. He pretended to be offended that his comrades were on operational duties while he, as a messenger, was always deprived of this honor. “If only once,” he said, “I could be on duty in the forward observation posts.” Dobrovol’skii admired this praiseworthy zeal and that same evening ordered that the petitioner be assigned to the advance posts. Once placed on vedette duty, the traitor galloped off into Eupatoria and announced to the enemy our intentions and how assault ladders were being made ready. In Eupatoria, of course, very effective measures were taken to strengthen the garrison, put the fortifications in order, and add guns. The main thing was that the ditch was joined with the sea and filled with water.

            The main force, the 8th Division, was delayed on the march by deep mud on the roads. In the meantime, early on the morning of 2 February five companies of Greek volunteers came to us at Eupatoria. They marched light and thus outdistanced the other troops. The company commanders appeared before Khrulev all together. Cheerful and in good spirits, wearing their national costume, they went into the hall of the house occupied by Khrulev along with all his staff. The commander of the first company was Nikolai Karaisko, of the second—Stamati Karamodi, of the third—Aristido Christoveri, of the fourth—Mimiko Tayado-Lodi, and of the fifth, counted as a major—Antonii Gene Papa-Duka (i.e. a priest). He was dressed more colorfully than the others and was more handsome in appearance: blond with light-blue eyes and a fine beard. The first four captains, especially the commander of the first company, were athletic in body with long bronzed faces. None of them, we noted, liked Papa-Duka much, who so sharply differed from them. The wide light-yellow sashes which girded them were hung with—or had thrust into them—richly mounted weapons. Besides a Turkish saber at the thigh, each had several pistols, daggers, and yataghans poking out of his sash.

            Khrulev received them solicitously. When with the Southern Army on the Danube he had already met with these warriors. They knew Khrulev and were glad to be under his command. This battalion, as far as I recall, had been first directed to Sevastopol, but finding out on the way that an operation was being made ready at Eupatoria under Khrulev, the Greek volunteers turned off toward our force and appeared unexpectedly.

            Until their arrival, I had heard nothing about the Greeks, and the dispositions for battle had no place designated for them. Pleased with their arrival, Khrulev immediately found a use for them that suited their military characteristics developed through their unique experience. Advising the Greek company commanders of the planned assault, Khrulev told them that their assignment in the affair would be to be the first to rush at the fortifications on the town’s right flank, seize the nearest houses or install themselves in them, and fire on the batteries from behind in order to help ensure the success of the main assault.

            The brave captains showed no sign of trepidation regarding such a perilous assignment. On the contrary, they saw it as an honor to be the first to fight their way into Eupatoria and only asked Khrulev to indicate each company’s own place to attack. At this, Stepan Aleksandrovich suggested to these fine men that they select from among themselves a single captain of their own choice who could be a battalion commander. This commander could then lead the companies forward and assign on the spot each company’s point to attack. But the Greeks absolutely refused to subordinate themselves to one of their own comrades. “We are all equal,” they said, “and there is no seniority among us.”

            Khrulev pointed out the renowned Captain Christoveri, who had already distinguished himself on the Danube, but he himself declined, and his comrades would not let him be elevated over them. After this, Khrulev suggested they select Papa-Duka. “What could be better for you,” he said, “then Papa-Duka, your priest, who would go in front of you with cross and sword?”

            But they also unanimously rejected Papa-Duka, although he himself was not against the idea. Also unable to be elected was Karaisko, commander of the 1st Company, a real athlete and of stern visage. Without having been able to decide anything, Khrulev dismissed the Greeks, advising them to think it over. They returned in an hour and asked the general to name a battalion commander for them from among the Russian field-grade officers, promising to subordinate themselves to him unconditionally. Khrulev saw that the Greeks were not going to come to any agreement among themselves, so he named me as their commander. The Greeks knew that I was one of the commander-in-chief’s adjutants, so they were very satisfied. Captain Stepanov of the Aleksopol Regiment had escorted the Greeks from the Danube army to ours, and Khrulev had him stay with his companions to help me.

            The translator during Khrulev’s talks with the Greeks was Dmitrii Podpati, who was assigned to me. After the talks, each of the captains came up to me with Podpati to express a word of welcome. Standing around me, they began to tell of their operations on the Danube, and promised to show their loyalty and gratitude to the sovereign here with us, too. On this point they expressed their sorrow that only five Greek companies had managed to make it across the Danube during the Southern Army’s withdrawal across its bridge; many other companies of Greek volunteers were not so fortunate. They had planned on crossing the bridge in the army’s rear, when suddenly the crossings were halted, the bridge dismantled, and the Greeks left on the far bank to face the Turks alone, accompanied by a large number of Bulgarian families seeking refuge under the protection of our forces… Those Greeks and Bulgarians—abandoned by us—were cut to pieces by the Turks.

            I return to my story. The business with the Greeks was settled. In the evening of that same day, there arrived the commander of the 8th Infantry Division, Prince Urusov, who we had long and impatiently waited for. Not losing any time, Khrulev hurried to initiate him into all the arrangements that had been made for the troop units. On his part, Urusov cooled Khrulev’s ardor, pointing out the operation would have to be postponed since the 8th Division’s troops were still struggling on the march and would not arrive until the following day. Khrulev did not immediately agree to put off the date designated for battle (4 February), but asked Urusov to first hear the plans made, telling him that the enemy had been forewarned by the traitorous lancer in regard to our intentions and therefore it was imperative to hurry the business.

            Prince Urusov sat down and we all gathered around him to begin reading the orders and arrangements for the battle. After the first few lines the prince stopped the reader and took the notebook from him. He carefully read the introductory orders and said, “Hold on, brother Stepan Aleksandrovich. You’re writing to me in the form of an order. You’re forgetting that I’m your senior. Take it away to be rewritten.”

            “Yes, that’s so. It slipped my mind,” announced Khrulev, “but I didn’t mean anything by it! Listen further…”

            “I won’t think of it!” answered Urusov. “Rewrite this, and then I’ll listen.”

            “Please, we don’t have the time for rewriting! What a formality! …We would need the whole night for it. We’ll rewrite afterwards… “

            “No, take it way for rewrite now, otherwise I have no wish to listen!”

            Nothing Khrulev could say would sway Prince Urusov, who stood rigidly on his principle. To us it did not seem to be the time to be so sensitive. We thought the prince did not know what it would take to write what he wanted. There were no clerks; we had all done our own writing at Khrulev’s dictation.

            There was nothing else to be done. Urusov’s demand had to be met. Staff-Captain Tsitovich had already taken up his pen when the prince calmed down, picked up the notebook again, leafed through its pages, became convinced that due to the volume of the orders a rewrite would take a long time, and agreed to rewriting only the introductory page.

            We did not leave, but sat silently in a circle while Tsitovich wrote. Stepan Aleksandrovich was sunk in thought. Prince Urusov, satisfied with his insistence on his principle, talked cheerfully about something. He comforted us by saying that while the orders were being rewritten, we could drink some tea.

            The first page was rewritten and the orders read. Prince Urusov approved everything, but said in conclusion that as long as a single gun in the enemy fortifications had not been put out of action, he would not order his troops into the assault. Khrulev reassured him. Everyone dispersed and were all able to go to sleep, but in the morning we were set to “correcting” the remaining documents which were directly addressed to Prince Urusov.

            The advance on Eupatoria was postponed to 5 February. Before dawn, the troops deployed near Oraz were gathered together next to the village of Khadzhi-Takhan. Khrulev and Urusov went out to them and a prayer service was held. All five of the Greek volunteer companies were here in their national costume with a whole arsenal of weapons thrust in the sash of each volunteer.

            As they had earlier asked be to additionally supplied with our infantry muskets and bayonets for the assault, I here told them of the arrangements among our troops which had been made in this regard.

            In the meantime, because two main points had been designated specifically for the Greeks during the attack on the fortifications covering Eupatoria’s right flank, Khrulev considered it more suitable to divide the five companies into two half-battalions. I was to lead the first three companies into the assault, and Stepanov was to lead the other two. Irregardless, I would retain general command over the Greeks. My adjutants were Dmitrii Nikolaidi for the first half of my force and Liodas Vul’garis for the second.

            In the evening, around 5 o’clock, when the Greeks formed up again to go and take up their position, a murmur rose up in the ranks. Suspicions were being expressed that they were being sent into the assault with just their own muskets, which did not have bayonets. The Greeks were not convinced that muskets would be distributed to them when all the troops had arrived in position that same night. Podpati relayed the volunteers’ turbulent talk to me and expressed his concern that they would not think their commanders worth two kopecks. “If I were in your place, I would refuse to be associated with these hotheads, your honor!” he concluded. “Don’t think of getting involved with their childish games, they’ll throw you aside!”

            The troops moved along. The Greeks marched at the head of the column along with Khrulev. Along the way, he told me of the tactics which had to be resorted to during the storming and occupation of buildings, and repeated more than once that the Greeks were fine fellows for this.

            As we went along we were hidden from enemy observation by the evening darkness and the valley we were in. Moving almost parallel to Eupatoria, we kept a course toward a certain well that we knew of next to a bridge across an arm of the salt lake, two miles from Eupatoria. It was already completely dark when Khrulev halted next to a hillock near the well and indicated it to be the last point of our infantry force’s left flank. With my Greeks, I went over the hillock and deployed the battalion in a hollow along a slope on the side closest to the arm of the lake.

            For his own overnight position, Khrulev chose the column’s left flank because these units were designated to make the first advance, and Stepan Aleksandrovich wanted to be close by to direct the attack.

Chapter XVIII.

            Night set in, cold enough to harden the ground, which made it easier for the troops to move. The soil firmed up, held solid, but did not make a sound when trod upon, which was exactly as we needed. When it was reckoned time for men to be in place to build battery epaulements and pits for riflemen, Khrulev himself rode to inspect this work. The night was so dark that he had to ride by feel, so to speak, but Colonel Scheideman of the artillery, accompanying him, did not lose the way and moved along the line of work without a misstep. These covering works were being constructed because the plan was for our cannonade to open up very close to the fortifications and thus our guns had to be sheltered from enemy riflemen. Scheideman was responsible for distributing and positioning the workers and then directing them. The darkness and close distance to the town made it very difficult for this careful colonel. Nevertheless, he accomplished this work quite successfully, having maintained a deep silence and concealed the activity from enemy observation. The vigilance of a line of cossack advance posts and riflemen, positioned in front of the line of workers, was also successful in keeping our preparations for the attack secret.

            The movement of our troops, as well as their bivouacking, was done with great care. Among other things, our force was strictly forbidden to have any sign of fires. Therefor there was not only no thought of samovars, but even of smoking tobacco.

            Cold and shivering, tortured by thirst and a tempting dream for a forbidden fruit (in the form of a glass of tea), I tramped back and forth next to the battalion while details brought up muskets and cartridge pouches that had been sent to the Greeks from other units. I sent stretcher bearers to the battalion. In the darkness I suddenly saw a shadow move—one, another, a third. And yet another one making its way, all to the same point and then returning with a kind of satisfied smacking of lips and furtiveness. “What’s going on?” I thought, and went over to where I saw—a crowd surrounding a vendor secretly pouring out tea. “Aha! Caught!” I thought, and stretched out my hand to seize the server by the collar, but without spilling a drop, he nimbly slipped a glass of tea into my outstretched hand. I was instantly mollified, and whispered into the ear of this doer of good to save a glass of tea for Khrulev. I could not help being amazed at the unusual cleverness of this entrepreneur who was able to hide the big hot samovar from all eyes and thus earn everyone’s gratitude instead of rebuke.

            Upon returning to my previous position, I heard some kind of disturbance in the battalion. I rushed over and met Podpati running toward me in the greatest fright.

            “There’s a revolt in the battalion, your honor,” he was barely able to say between breaths. “They demand to see you!”

            I started to run to the Greeks, but behind me Podpati grabbed the skirt of my coat. “Don’t go,” he insisted. “They’re furious. I told you, they’re a dangerous people!”

            What had happened? The Greeks, acquainted with danger in their home life, well knew the value of well-maintained arms. As soon as the muskets and cartridge pouches had been distributed to them after being brought by corporals from various companies, the volunteers, as true experts on firearms, began inspecting them, feeling them in the dark, fixing and unfixing the bayonet, pulling the trigger, drawing and reinserting the ramrod, counting and inspecting the cartridges, examining the pouches… in a word, they were doing everything that one of our own soldiers does not always remember to do when necessary. However, even when our soldier notices some deficiency in his weapon, he would not worry, since he does not properly value his firearm. Also, for a smart and fancy performance of the manual of arms, our soldiers’ habit at the time was to purposely shake loose the bayonet and ramrod and loosen the fastenings so that the musket—to use the soldiers’ expression—“had more tempo” [“po-tempistee”]. And it was with such weapons that we went to war. When the infantry was ordered to supply the Greek volunteers with muskets and cartridge pouches, the corporals very calculatedly thought to use this “favorable event” to get rid of defective muskets, torn pouches, and half-empty cartridges. When the Greeks examined the weapons and accouterments brought to them, it turned out that most of the muskets had hammers that did not cock or no triggers at all; bayonets were missing or did not stay fixed on the barrel; many of the muskets had lost their ramrods; there was not a full quantity of cartridges, the powder had leaked out of some, and—what was even more frightening, for who would ever have checked?—some of the rounds were not filled with gunpowder, but with millet!

            Not suspecting anything, I ran over to the battalion. The Greeks gathered around me with shouts, invectives, and curses, each one trying to show me a deficiency he had found and crying, “Betrayed! Betrayed!” They’ve decided to have us killed, like on the Danube!”… After showing me the defective muskets, the Greeks broke them over rocks and threw them in a pile, as well as the cartridge pouches. I had no regrets over the muskets: away with them! But when the volunteers started pouring grains of millet from the cartridges into the palm of my hand, I was definitely stupefied. I looked but could not believe my eyes. I put some in my mouth, chewed—and could not believe what I tasted…

            Podpati barely managed to translate what the Greeks were saying to me, which was enraged discontent. “We came to help you,” they said, “not sparing our lives, but you give us broken muskets and send us into the assault first! Take your idiotic clubs back. We’ll do our business without bayonets, with our yataghan swords. Our muskets don’t stab, but they do shoot when needed. You don’t deceive us all the time! How many died on the Danube from your deceit!”

            With curses they here reminded me of the massacre at the crossing of the Danube. I tried to calm them down as best I could. With the help of the translator, I explained to them that their suspicions were entirely out of place here, that the guilty party was the corporals who accepted the muskets without inspecting them. I said that the soldiers had not known that these muskets were to be given to the Greeks, and so had turned over their defective ones. I finished by advising the volunteers to keep serviceable items and collect the rest and leave them under guard so that afterwards those responsible could be found and punished. Now, though, was no time to kick up a row, since we were close to the enemy and he could hear our shouts, so that the Greeks themselves might be the cause for a failure of our perilous storming of the town.

            The last point had more effect on them than the rest. They quieted down and got busy selecting muskets and sorting cartridges, and I noticed that they did not thrown away the cartridges with millet, but instead carefully put them away. Later, when the Greek volunteers went to join the Sevastopol garrison, on the north side of the harbor they did not miss the opportunity to show Prince Menshikov the cartridges with millet. Warned ahead of time by me, the prince had earlier taken appropriate steps through his chief of staff.

            The noise raised by the Greek battalion was not heard by Eupatoria’s forward posts, no doubt thanks to the deep hollow in which this altercation took place. After calming the Greeks down, I went up out of the ravine and met with Khrulev appearing out of the darkness. He was returning from an inspection of the positions and was very satisfied with Scheideman’s arrangements. My report on the disturbance did not greatly surprise him. He obviously was familiar with the Greeks. After giving me some last instructions for the coming day, Khrulev went down to that well we knew of, and I sat down on a rock, dozing until dawn.

            It had hardly begun to get light when the bivouac began to stir. Khrulev sat on a stately white horse which he had chosen with the intent of being visible in battle. He wanted to greet the dawn of the clear and cheerful morning, and galloped to the point designated for the first advance. The Greeks got up and followed Khrulev. Their company commanders were on horseback, dexterously showing off in front of their units and boldly waving their swords. Each wanted to outshine the other in skill and thus stimulate pride within his command. The privates in their turn assumed a dignified air and gibed the other companies and their captains. It raised one’s spirits to see the battalion move. The Greeks did not march in column, but rather with an extended front, each of them appearing as an independent warrior. They did not keep elbow to elbow, nor did they march in step. They moved out in a line, each soldier distinctly visible and not masked as in a mass formation. Each man strove forward, which produced an extended front. Each Greek private peered curiously ahead, wanting to know where he was being led, what was along the way, to the sides, and to the front. The volunteers’ stride was light and quick; turning their heads to all sides, keeping them uplifted, they sought to see into the distance. It was a new experience for me to see such a military unit and I watched them as they went.

            When we drew abreast of the kurgan on which I had met with a Tatar piquet the day I first came to Eupatoria, Khrulev galloped ahead with me and the five captains of the volunteers and halted close to the enemy defenses to show them the best places for the attack. A Tatar piquet was again on the kurgan now, but this time we frightened them off and they galloped away into the town.

            The alarm was raised in Eupatoria. The troops stood to arms, the gun crews to their cannons… Here a cannon shot burst forth, after it another, and a cannonade ensued from both sides. Khrulev was aflame, his eyes flashed, and his cheeks glowed bright red. He turned his horse to half face Eupatoria and waited for the Greeks. In the meanwhile he sent me, voiskovoi starshina [Cossack major] Savel’ev, and Christoveri to ride from the lakeside closer to Eupatoria’s walls and examine the front of the ditch. After galloping back along the line of fortifications to the kurgan on which Khrulev was waiting for us I barely had time to report to him when the Greeks appeared. They were hurrying, but in the meantime Khrulev held his chest out, straightened up in the saddle, turned his head to one side and then the other, and in expectation of battle hungrily breathed in what to him was the delicious smell of gun smoke.

            It was impossible to not admire and be proud of such a military leader. Looking at Khrulev, I understood the powerful sway of this commander over his troops. Having become acquainted with Khrulev while he was making his preparatory arrangements before battle, and during the battle itself, I was not surprised that the soldiers so willingly and trustingly followed him anywhere. He would have been the Suvorov of our times if he had been fated to meet circumstances fully worthy of his military abilities. When he was with the troops, they did not think of danger and were truly “ready to try.” (And two years after this, in peacetime, I happened to see this same military leader, now a modest manufacturer of kvas [sour rye beer]—under the enticing brand label of “Sevastopol.”)

            And so, the Greeks did not allow themselves to wait: they crowded around Khrulev and listened to a few short directions from him and some encouraging words. Then in an instant, they dispersed at the command of their captains to form a large number of skirmish lines. They moved forward so skillfully that every marksman, even in the rear lines, had a clear space before him in which to shoot. They pressed forward quickly, with each line successively running in front of the others, so that the rear lines alternately became the front ones. When we were close to the ditch surrounding Eupatoria, the Turks from behind their breastworks fired “dice” (bullets cut into four pieces), which hit us like a wall of boiling water, and the Greeks all dove to the ground as one man. They concealed themselves behind various folds in the ground and lay motionless, making use of stones, gullies, hillocks, eroded embankments, and other similar protective features, not scorning anything that could hide them from enemy fire.

            I did not understand this maneuver right away. Left visible and alone out in the open, I was not altogether pleased and was all set to get the men up when after a minute of complete quiet I suddenly saw that the Greeks were beginning to move. They would carefully sight their muskets, fire a well-aimed shot, and, running forward, change their places. Again they would lay concealed for a minute, then repeat the same thing, doing this several times to finally almost reach the ditch. The front marksmen were already not pressing forward anymore, so the rear men gradually closed up to the front. With me were the first three companies. The 4th and 5th were detached with Captain Stepanov and in exactly the same way had run up on the left towards a cemetery. To the left of Stepanov moved four sotnias of dismounted cossacks under Voiskovoi Starshina Savel’ev. Eventually we were all lying close to the ditch, everyone taking cover as best he could. We were firing slowly and deliberately with our muskets, waiting for the moment to assault. The Turks never grew silent, and fired their muskets at us, mostly with dice and round bullets; there were few riflemen. The Greeks were skillfully concealed and suffered little from the enemy fire. Following their example, I hid myself and my horse in a pit, jumped out of the saddle, and pressed up against the pit’s front edge. Like handfuls of peas flung across the pit, dice flew over me. Towards me crawled the severely wounded Captain Stamati Karamodi of the 2nd Company, with Christoveri behind him. The latter examined his own wounded leg and carelessly sat at the rear side of the pit, and at that moment was wounded a second time, in the stomach. A few more wounded men crawled toward me or ran over from behind cover. Time went by, but there was no sign of the assault. The cannonade did not grow silent, sometimes explosions rumbled… finally the roar of the guns became louder, making us suppose that the batteries had moved up to close range, then the firing quieted down… Assault!

            The Greeks jumped up and at once ran up to the ledge, ready to jump into the ditch, but—what was this? The ditch was filled with water! They ran back and forth, but there was nothing to be done about it. They grabbed the ladders, let them down, and started swimming, but now everything was being fired at them from the breastworks—canister, bullets, dice. The Greeks went back and hid themselves again. At this time dismounted dragoons of the Moscow Regiment came hurrying up to support the Greeks.

            “What do you say, you?”

            “Nothing. We’re lying down.”

            “How is that? What about the assault?”

            “We were there.”

            “What was there?”

            “Nothing. Go, look, you’ll see.”

            Such could have been the mimed conversation of the Greeks with the dragoons who had just come up.

When I saw the dragoons cheerfully marching up in a column with a solid front, I jumped out of the pit and ran to meet them. I warned them of what would happen to them if they presented the Turkish marksmen with such a dense target. In this I pointed out to them the practical way of approaching in skirmish order, and advised using terrain for cover and to follow the example of the Greeks and maneuver in a similar fashion. But the dragoons, inexperienced in battle, proudly rejected my warning and began to jeer at the way the Greeks were hiding behind rocks. I remember one brave officer in the column shouting a witty couplet to me: 

      We won’t lie down, a la grecque.  
      Our duty we won’t neglect.   

It was a pleasure—but at the same time a sad thing—to see these fine men going to certain and completely useless deaths. At this time they came up to the area occupied by the Greeks and were shouting at them. The Greeks understood that it was the dragoons’ turn and yielded their cover to them, jumping out all at once. My horse, which I was holding by the reins, was startled by their sudden appearance and lunged, stepping heavily on my foot. I began to limp, and in our force it was supposed that I was wounded. This was all the more likely since at that same moment field guns in the fortifications hit the dragoons and exposed Greeks with a hail of canister from which the Greeks suffered more losses than at the ditch. For this they were angry with the dragoons for a long time, having been made to needlessly leave cover at the wrong time, cover which the dragoons themselves did not use as they hurried on to the ditch. It hurt to see them die for nothing and soon be forced to turn around, of course in disorder and with much loss.

With Stepanov, I gathered our five Greek companies at the cemetery under the cover of a wall. During the advance to the general assault, Stepanov’s companies, just as mine, penetrated to the ditch and came up against the same water, but he had more casualties. He had two men killed whose bodies could not be recovered, to the grief of the their comrades. In total, the Greek force had about 25 casualties. True, that is not a great percentage of something over 600 men, but for the Greeks it was appreciable because of the uselessness of the losses—we had not captured anything. The Greeks valued every shot they fired, and avoided all circumstances in which they could be hurt without gain, preserving themselves for the moment of a decisive blow.

The Azov Regiment, being already experienced thanks to its storming of the redoubt in the Balaklava affair, had for this reason been sent by the commander-in-chief to Khrulev and his force. This regiment’s 3rd and 4th Battalions went magnificently into the assault to the right of the volunteers, at a point more difficult than ours, and besides musket fire they came under deadly canister fire and suffered accordingly. The water stopped them exactly as it had the Greeks and dragoons and thus after unsuccessful attempts to use ladders they were forced to retreat to their places.

Recognizing our unexpectedly encountered obstacle as impassable, Khrulev quickly stopped further attempts to storm the town and galloped towards me. I saw him from afar so I set off to meet him. We met near the far corner of the cemetery behind which now stood the Podolia Regiment’s 5th and 6th Battalions.

“Eupatoria can’t be taken!” Khrulev said to me loudly. “Don’t do anything. Withdraw your comrades, retreat!” Then he commanded the reserve battalions of the Podolia Regiment, “Wheel left around!” [“Na levo krugom!”] but they did not move and said in one voice:

“Your excellency! Allow us, we will take it… Just give us the order!…”

Khrulev stopped. The fine young soldiers were asking so plaintively, heedless of losses, and were looking him in the eye with such hopeful smiles that he clearly wavered. His face turned aflame, his heroic blood boiled, his agreement rose from the depth of his heart and would burst from his mouth… but rational thinking took the upper hand. Taking a deep breath, Khrulev took control of his emotion.

“Thank you. Thank you, fine fellows!” he said in a shaky voice. “We’ll go do it, just not now! We’ve spent a lot of cartridges and need to replenish again. For now we go to dinner!” Then with a wave of his hand to signal a retreat, he rode back, smiling cheerfully. After ordering that the Greeks, dismounted cossacks, and others be withdrawn from the firing line, I followed after Khrulev. After going a short distance, we ran into Prince Urusov, galloping over from the center column.

“How? What! You’re ordering a retreat?” he began. “If you please, dear brother, why? We were going so gloriously… All for nothing, nothing! We couldn’t have failed to take Eupatoria…”

“The game’s not worth the candle, brother. You know it well enough yourself!” answered Khrulev dryly.

“The soldiers are enthusiastic! I’ll lead them. How can this be—to retreat at such a favorable moment?”

But instead of answering, Stepan Aleksandrovich rode up onto a hillock next to where the center column was deployed and commanded loudly, “Retreat in chessboard fashion, first battalions, begin!” [“Otstuplenie v shakhmatnom poryadke, pervye bataliony, nachinai!”] He brought his saber up, waited for the command to be echoed by the battalion commanders, and brought it down with a shout of “March!”

The retreat began as orderly as if we were training on the parade ground. When the first battalions had withdrawn the regulation distance, Khrulev repeated the command for the second battalions, and so on. We marched right back to where we had spent the night. At the beginning of the withdrawal, aide-de-camp Volkov galloped up to Khrulev and reported that some of the Turkish cavalry and infantry had sallied forth from Eupatoria with the intent of pursuing us, but were frightened by two battalions of the Azov Regiment with an artillery battery and turned around on their heels. During this, though, the Turks had been daring enough to gallop up rather close to our square. As we were leaving, we were fired on from steamships as well as from the Eupatoria fortifications, but soon we went down behind a rise, and all grew quiet.

Having withdrawn from Eupatoria, Khrulev finished the force’s march and ordered that the troops be given dinner and that expended cartridges be replenished. He slid off his horse at the same rock on which he had spent the night and fell into a deep sleep.

I went to the Greek battalion to check their losses and visit the wounded. The privates were at the first-aid point while the captains were with their companies. Christoveri was sitting in a covered wagon. He thanked me for my participation and cheerfully reassured me in regard to his wounds. Karaisko, lying on a cart, was suffering terribly; he did not survive his wounds.

From the first reports on the battlefield, it was reckoned we had something over 500 wounded men. For the most part, the wounds were not serious, having been inflicted by round bullets or dice. Many soldiers did not even leave their formations. But the heaviest casualties were incurred by the Azov Regiment. In addition to many officers and lower ranks, the regimental commander, the brave General Krüdener, was rather seriously wounded in the shinbone.

An outstanding result of Khrulev’s preparatory arrangements was the model efficiency with which the wounded were collected from the field and had their wounds dressed. When they were delivered to the Simferopol hospital, the senior doctor was quick to report to the commander-in-chief on the exemplary bandaging that he found on the wounded brought from the Eupatoria battlefield. He also added that even in the hospital at that time it would be difficult to redress the bandages so well. All credit and honor for this belonged to the Eupatoria force’s surgeon, Court Councilor Raiskii, and credit and glory to Khrulev’s well thought-out preparations!

At Eupatoria the commanders of artillery units distinguished themselves by their efficiency both before and during the fighting. The artillery was handled gloriously and struck down many of our enemies in Eupatoria. Our riflemen also operated skillfully. The infantry and cavalry of the right and center columns did not happen to have to demonstrate their readiness for battle (see appended order of battle). They withdrew with the hope that they would renew the fight after dinner.

We ate, replenished cartridges and ammunition as much as possible, refitted ourselves, and waited for orders. No one knew what Khrulev had decided; he was in a deep sleep and it was impossible to rouse him. This sleep was like some kind of lethargy. After so many sleepless nights and hungry days, under the greatest stress to his whole nervous system, after his excitement during the time spent in battle, accompanied by a whole swarm of the most wide-ranging sensations—Khrulev, under the weight of exhaustion, collapsed into complete unconsciousness.

Returning from the battalion, I found Volkov and Scheideman next to Khrulev. “Stepan Aleksandrovich! Stepan Aleksandrovich!!” they were saying to wake him. “Father, excuse us... what should we do with the troops? They’re ready, all in order again!...” Seeing that their efforts were in vain, Volkov and Scheideman went to the troops, discussed the matter, and returned to Khrulev. They tried and tried to wake him... finally, he opened his eyes.

“Homeward!” he pronounced. “Give me my horse!” And again he collapsed into the same sleep.

The horse was brought. Khrulev slept sitting on the rock. We put him into the horse’s saddle with difficulty, he remaining half asleep, and started off. I was on the right side and Volkov was on the left, keeping as close to his stirrups as we could. Stepan Aleksandrovich held the reins automatically and was dreaming deeply.

As we overtook the Azov men, Volkov and I noticed that many lightly wounded were marching in formation as if nothing had happened. We talked about the brave fellows, and Volkov encouraged them in a subdued voice. Khrulev heard us talking and opened his eyes. “The Azovtsy? Ah, brave fellows, thank you, thank you!” he intoned as we passed by the battalions.

“When do we go again, your excellency?” asked the Azov soldiers impatiently.

“For that, wait. Give it a while. We’ll get ourselves in order!” answered Khrulev. Having passed the regiment, he again fell asleep.

Volkov and I rode without speaking, looking at each other and guarding Khrulev from falling. But Stepan Aleksandrovich, with the ability acquired by horsemen, stayed firmly in the saddle even when sleeping.

The exemplary discipline in the battle and the orderly retreat of the troops, picturesquely lit by the sun’s rays, left an impression on us of the battle at Eupatoria that was not only not depressing, but was instead—one could say—agreeable. We all knew we had done right, regardless that we were retreating. Every man felt that he had done everything he could and understood that the natural barrier we had encountered could not have been overcome. Where was that foolhardy fury which Khrulev has been accused of? Here he had a chance to display it: after accepting the mission at his own risk, Stepan Aleksandrovich developed and fostered the idea to take Eupatoria and please the sovereign. He prepared the business as well as possible, inspiring the soldiers and concentrating their minds, taking them into the advance, and when they were pressing for loot—he turned them aside from that with one word: “Withdraw!” The troops were pressing eagerly for battle, but Khrulev led them to dinner, sacrificing his personal courage to the demands of rational judgement.

Having reached Tyuk-Mamai, to where the headquarters train had been directed to move previously, Khrulev let himself down off his horse like an automaton and, supported by us, went up onto the porch. In his room he went to a wide ottoman couch, lay down on it, and began to snore.

A. A. Panaev.

**************

Note by A.A. Panaev:

Units that took part in the Battle of Eupatoria were:

In the right column:

8th Division, 1st Brigade, Major General Zamarin
    Trans-Balkan Regiment, Colonel Timashev
     Poltava Regiment, Major General Golvachesvskii

Reserve Lancer Division, Major General Bobylev
     Archduke Leopold of Austria’s Regiment, Major General Terpelevskii
     Novoarkhangelsk Regiment, Colonel Roslovlev

Two sotnias of cossacks

Light Foot Battery No. 3, 3rd Brigade, Colonel Thedyukhin
Horse-Artillery Battery No. 21, Colonel Kolobov
Light Battery No. 20, Eiler
Light Battery No. 19, Staff-Captain Kolmykov

In the center column:

8th Division, 2nd Brigade, Major General Teterevnikov
     Aleksopol Regiment, Major General von Buse
     Kremenchug Regiment, Baron Mengden

One sotnia of cossacks

Foot Battery No. 3, 2nd Brigade, Colonel Alekseev
Light Battery No. 4, Lieutenant Colonel Lalenevich
Light Battery No. 5, Minin

In the left column:

12th Division, Azov Infantry Regiment, Major General Krüdiner

5th and 6th Reserve Battalions, Podolia Regiment; Greek Volunteer Battalion;dismounted Moscow Dragoons - Major General Kronik

Three sotnias of Zhirov’s No. 61 Cossack Regiment
One sotnia of Filipov’s No. 55 Cossack Regiment

Light Foot Battery No. 3, 11th Brigade, Captain Savich
Light Foot Battery No. 4, Staff-Captain Korenitskii
Light Foot Battery No. 4, 12th Brigade, Lieutenant Veierlok
Light Foot Battery No. 3, 14th Brigade, Captain Yel’chaninov
Light Foot Battery No. 4, Captain Nedosekin
Light Horse Battery No. 23, Lieutenant Kuzen

The combined brigade of the Azov and Podolia regiments was commanded by Major General Ogarev 3rd. The overall commander of all infantry was Lieutenant General Urusov. Major General Bobylev commanded the right column; Major General Teterevnikov - the center column; and Major General Ogarev 3rd - the left column. The overall commander of all artillery was Colonel Scheideman. The artillery commander in the right column was Colonel Kolobov, in the center column - Colonel Segerkrants, and in the left column - Colonel Pushchin.

-----------------------------------------

From Col. Zaionchkovskii, “Oborona Sevastopolya - Podvigi Zashchitniki”, St. Petersburg, 1899 (sponsored by the Committee for Erecting the Museum of the Defense of Sevastopol).

Page 417. “To carry out such plans by the commander-in-chief [Menshikov], the following regiments and batteries were designated [for Khrulev]:”

8th Inf. Division
    Diebitsch of the Trans-Balkans’ Regt - 4 battalions, 64 officers, 290 non-commissioned officers, 122 musicians, 2511 privates, 29 noncombatants, total 3016, Kart-Bii village.
    Poltava Inf. Regt - 4 battalions, 55 officers, 273 non-commissioned officers, 133 musicians, 2502 privates, 28 noncombatants, total 2991, Aisabai village.
    Aleksopol Regt 3 battalions, 47 officers, 189 non-commissioned officers, 108 musicians, 1468 privates, 32 noncombatants, total 1844, Gadzhi-Tarkhan.
    Kremenchugi Regt 4 battalions, 58 officers, 311 non-commissioned officers, 138 musicians, 2539 privates, 112 noncombatants, total 3158, Dzheilav and Bogai.    

12th Inf. Division
    Azov Inf. Regt - 4 battalions, 81 officers, 366 non-commissioned officers, 141 musicians, 2791 privates, 25 noncombatants, total 3404, Tyup-Mamai village. 

5th and 6th reserve battalions of the Podolia Jäger Regt - 2 battalions, 16 officers, 109 non-commissioned officers, 34 musicians, 1396 privates, -- noncombatants, total 1555, Ort-Mamai village. 

Battalion of Greek Volunteers - 1 battalion, 6 officers, 634 privates, total 640 - arrived at Oraz just before the assault.

Totals - 22 battalions, 327 officers, 1538 non-commissioned officers, 676 musicians, 13841 privates, 226 noncombatants, Grand Total - 16608.

CAVALRY

    Reserve Lancer Division
        Archduke Leopold of Austria’s Lancer Regt - 8 squadrons, 51 officers, 156 non-commissioned officers, 24 musicians, 984 privates, total 1215 - Kabach village.
        Novoarkhangelsk Lancer Regt - 6 squadrons, 47 officers, 163 non-commissioned officers, 26 musicians, 1044 privates, total 1280 - Kurulu Kenegel village.

    1st Dragoon Division
        The Heir and Tsesarevich’s Regt - 10 squadrons, 43 officers, 115 non-commissioned officers, 39 musicians, 721 men, total 918 - Tyumen village.

    Don Cossack No. 61 Regt - 4 sotnias, 16 officers, 24 non-commissioned officers, 247 privates, total 287 - at posts.
    Don Cossack No. 55 Regt - 1 sotnia, 2 off, 2 non-commissioned officers, 52 privates, total 56 - at posts.

Totals - 24 squadrons, 5 sotnias, 159 officers, 460 non-commissioned officers, 89 musicians, 3048 privates, Grand Total 3756.

ARTILLERY

    8th Artillery Brigade
        Heavy No. 3 battery - 12 guns - Dzheilav.
        Light No. 3 battery - 12 guns - Aisabai.
        Light No. 4 battery - 12 guns - ditto.
        Light No. 5 battery - 12 guns - Dzheilav.

    11th Artillery Brigade
        Light No. 4 battery - 8 guns - Oraz.

    14th Artillery Brigade
        Light No. 3 battery - 8 guns - Orta Mamai.
        Light No. 4 battery - 8 guns - ditto.

    Four heavy guns of the 11th and 12th Artillery Brigades - 4 guns – Orta Mamai.

Total - 76 guns.

    Horse batteries
        Light No. 19 battery - 8 guns - Tashke.
        Light No. 20 battery - 8 guns - Alchin.
        Light No. 23 battery - 8 guns - Tashke.
        Heavy No. 21 battery - 8 guns - Aisabai.

Total - 32 guns.

Grand total 108 guns.

Sources:
    Strengths and units report, 5 February 1855. [O.S.] [Stroevoi report.]
    Deployment and location report of the Eupatoria force. [Dislokatsiya report.]

[I notice in Panaev’s order-of-battle some of the batteries are written as from “2nd” or “3rd” brigades. This may be shorthand for saying they are from the second or third artillery brigade of such-and-such corps, with the real number of the artillery brigade being 12th or 14th, or some other number. (Each corps came with three artillery brigades, nominally united in an artillery division, but also nominally distributed one brigade to each of the corps’ three infantry divisions.) – M. C.]

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Translated by Mark Conrad, 2001.