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From: Darakjian <ha...@av...> - 2009-08-27 15:36:22
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He was going with the task of building some wooden huts for the soldiers, and lumber was being shipped at the same time. But the soldiers for whom these shelters were intended were even then dying from exposure on the plains of Sebastopol. It was the first lesson of unpreparedness. Of this, however, the young engineer was then ignorant. He was in high spirits over the prospect of action and seeing the world. He arrived at Marseilles "very tired," as he writes to his mother, but not too tired to give her a detailed description of what he has seen thus far--"the pretty towns and villages, vineyards and rivers, with glimpses of snowy mountains beyond." On New Year's Day he reached his destination, Balaklava. It was the depth of winter, and disaster stared the British in the face. The Russians were having the best of it. They were out-generalling the enemy at every turn. The British could do little more than dig in and hang on, with the bull-dog stubbornness which has always marked them. At first, the young lieutenant heard little of this. His duties as construction engineer kept him busy six miles back of the battle line. "I have not ye |