A CRIMEA VETERAN

Evening Star, Issue 17954, 27 April 1922, Page 5

A CRIMEA VETERAN

LIVING IN OTAGO. ENLISTED SEVENTY YEARS AGO, AND WOULD DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN. If you walk along tho Main North road for about a mile after leaving tbo Evansdalo railway station you will see a little cottage perched away up the hill on your loft and overlooking the Glen. In this secluded spot lives James Storey, who, as Gunner Storey, of the Royal Horse Artillery, served two years with tho British troops in the Crimea and took part in several of those famous battles which were fought in tho early fifties. A ‘ Star ’ representative took a special trip out yesterday to see Mr Storey, and found him in bed. where he has spent tho best part of the last four years. It was obvious that this old soldier of Queen Victoria, who had journeyed two decades past tho allotted span (“ ninety on the 14th of last February,” ho announced with pride), had been a fine .stamp of man, big-honed and strong, and well fitted to endure tho hardships of tho historic campaign ni which he tells. But, ho explained, he was not very strong on his legs now, and it was unsafe- for him to movo about. Otherwise he is wonderfully alert for one of his great ago, and his sight and hearing are yet quite good. TWELVE Y’IARS’ SERVICE. Framed and hanging on the wall at the foot of his bed is Gunner Storey's discharge (rom the Army; a little yellowed with age, but quite legible. It shows that he. a native of Belturbet, County Cavan, Ireland, enlisted in that town for the 27th Regiment of Foot on May 3, 1852 (afterwards lie was transferred to tho Artillery), and that he served for twelve years and ten days, two years of which with the expedition in the East. He was discharged on completion of his term on May 14, 1864, his conduct having been “very good.” An additional endorsement is to the effect that Gunner Storey was in possession of: A good conduct badge, A medal for the Crimea, with clasps for Alma, Balaklava, Inkerman, and Scbastapol, Tho Turkish medal. There w.as no difficulty about getting the veteran soldier to speak of his experiences, though these were so far distant that no connected narrative could be expected. For remember, the hero of ‘ My Old Shako,’ who related in that stirring song happenings of “ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty years ago,” was but a youngster compared with this man who fought against tho Russians in ’54. ROUGH TIMES AND HARD. “ They wore rough times," lie said, " rough and hard. And the life in the trendies was worse than the battles.” For it would appear that army organisation in those far-off days was not by any means perfect, and for tho first year at any rate the men were often half-starved and half-naked. Picture the young fighters, with healthy appetites, “ carrying on” in the severe winter badly clothed and with daily rations of a pound of mouldy biscuit, as much sugar as would go in the palm of your hand, and a few coffee beans which had to bo crushed between a tent polo and a gun wheel before they could ho .utilised. The second winter saw a great improvement, however, and Jib of moat and Jib of broad daily could be purchased from tho commissariat for 4jd, which camo out of the 6d per day field allowance by which tho regular pay of 16]d per day was augmented. As in these modern times, so in tho Crimea, Army “red tape” was all too prominent. “ Even when yon wont to get rations,” said Air Storey, “some form or other had to he complied with, and if it wasn’t yon had to go without.” And carelessness, or worse, on the part of Army contractors was not unknown then cither, for was it not discovered when one, consignment of boots came to hand that they were all “lefts” and no “ rights ” ! FUN WITH THE PIG. But tho “boys” then, as in the late Great War, did not allow hardships to “get them down.” They had their fnn. and the old veteran lying hero chuckled as he recalled how, when his company struck “APKenzie’s place, in the, middle of a thick bush—a place with crab apples all around it —the divils of men let a pig out of the pen and had great fnn. We weren’t allowed to take anything, of course. ” he added ; “ but I can tell yon there was some fine linen coals in that same place that fitted ns fine,.” THE GRIM SIDE. Questioned ns to the charge, of Balaclava, Mr Storey said that the artillery took little part'in it; the troops wore so mixed un on that occasion that the guns could not be served for fear of shooting their own men. He himself saw nothing of the actual charge, but heard tho cries arising from it. “We heard the story of that fine officer, Captain Nolan, afterwards,” he said. “Before going into the charge he waved his hand and called ‘Here goes the last of the Nolans!’ and so it was. Tlis wife, they say, wanted to ride in the charge with him, and they had a hard job to stop her.” _ “There were some cruel sights,” said the. old veteran, his eyes growing dim at the recollection. “Things come to my mind at night, and I see ’em as plain ns plain. Then they go suddenly out, and I forget. There’s one sight I’ll never forget, though,” he continued. “It was after Alma, and we were crossing a bridge from which the planks had been cut here ami there. 1 thought I saw somebody standing against the wall, and went over to speak to him. It was a young bugler; his head had been blown right off, and his finger's wore clutching at the wall. It made the tears come down my checks. “ Another time.” continued this old soldier, “ we wore marching along, and passed close by a man of tho 23rd Regiment of Foot. He had both legs blown off, and was fast bleeding to death. A T ct he was waving his cap and singing out loudly: ‘The English will win the day.’” And so he went on, lighting and puffing at a faithful old pipe, describing the pictures as they unfolded themselves from these brain cells in which they had so long ago been photographed. He remembered that the morning of the battle of Inkerman was very misty. He and tome others had been detailed to get water from the one available snot —an old mill at the foot of the hill. They line! just got there when the bugles rang nut, and everyone rushed to their places. What followed ho could not cleanly call to mind; hut ho remembered that when they went to get their horses they found that the dastardly Russians had crept up and stabbed all the poor beasts. “BUT I’D ENLIST AGAIN!” “ Yes.” said tho veteran in vigorous tones as tho memory of battle floated back to him. “Them that makes war should go and fight in it. Half of Big soldiers didn’t know what it was for. I didn't know —only what I was told. But,” he added, brightening, “ if I was young again I’d enlist. You sec a lot that way that you couldn’t any other way.” Which was very true As the pressman shook the old veteran’s hand in parting the latter said; “You won’t print anything that might bring trouble. I get the pension, you sec—ninepence a day. It isn’t much, but it helps. And nrivate soldiers have to keep dumb about what they see, you know.” Ho was assured that he need have no anxiety ; that the Imperial Government was not likely to cancel his pension at this time of day, even though he had dared to criticise its organisation. “Anyway,” said this gunner of seventy years ago, “I don’t care. I have only told the truth.” The pressman was not allowed to go before partaking of a dish of appetising kail made by the hands of Airs Storey, who. he ascertained, had, as young Alary Al’Gregor come from Scotland to New Zealand in the St. Vincent in 1863, Air

Storey had come by the previous boat, but they did not meet till later. They were married over fifty years syne, and have lived almost ns long at Evansdalc in this wee hoose, on the walls of which are displayed portraits of soldier relatives (a brother died of cholera in the Crimea, a cousin was in a Highland regiment, andi a nephew served in the Great War) and pictures of Royalty and of famous generals from Wellington to Haig.