Part 2 of 2
From the Memoirs of a Prussian Royal Uhlan, pub. 1856 by Kapitan Franziske Grzybowski (continued...)
In August, after having defeated three armies, our scouts reported no more large formations, so the time had come to move on our next target – Aqaba. One of King Solomon’s ancient cities, Aqaba is home to a centuries-old fortress. But we are told by local guides that its defenses are primarily oriented toward the ocean. The Kronprinz believes we can take the city by storm if we cross the desert.
We mounted our expedition, leaving the Sachsen Uhlans behind to protect Sinai. The route was long, hot, dry and treacherous. We lost many camels, and not a few men in the effort. But when we arrived to overlook Aqaba, we knew that we would be successful. The defenders were some of the same we had met in earlier battles in the Sinai, and they were weak. We fell upon them, and approached the ramparts of the fort with the sweeping, loping glide peculiar to camelback cavalry.
I was riding at the side of His Majesty, Kronprinz Friedrich, when suddenly my right foot lost its hold of its stirrup. At the speed we were charging, I had to frantically grapple to avoid being unbalanced, felled, and trampled underfoot. It wasn’t until after I’d regained my safety that I realized I’d been hit by a bullet.
I’d slowed, and the Kronprinz peered back at me with concern. Blood spattered my pantleg, and the camel’s side, though the blood was all mine. I had no control of movement in my foot, my lower leg being apparently shattered. And then the pain seized me, and I cried out. The Kronprinz quickly ordered someone to attend to me, with the clear tone of a magisterial directive in his voice. And then he raced ahead with the rest of the regiment as they stormed the gates.
Soon, I came to be able to handle the pain. My attendant wrapped the wound, strapping two bayonets in parallel to stiffen my leg. This was all without my dismounting, as I felt I was in too much pain to do so – I have always been a stubborn patient. The sound of muskets and rifles was beginning to die down. And I felt I had missed my chance at fame.
Completely to my surprise, I found the Kronprinz at my side. He asked if I were able to ride. I put all else aside, and told him I was. He and I rode, slowly, side by side through the narrow gate into the captured fortress.
Once all was quiet and still, and once I had been taken to the infirmary to be looked at, it was discovered that the bullet (the Egyptians used bullets of massive caliber!) had lodged itself in my lower legbone, splintering it and forcing its pieces apart.
The war was very soon over, as was my military service to the Prussian Crown. Ultimately, I was able to walk ably, but I will always have the limp of a war veteran. So it was, in September 1854, that my 20-year career as a Prussian cavalry soldier and officer came to an end.
Thinking back, I am almost sure that during the battle, I had watched the Kronprinz – unmistakable, in his brilliant white uniform, silver breastplate, and plumed white charger (his was the only horse in the assault) – enter the fortress with the advance party. But ever since, he has had the enormous grace to introduce me to dignitaries as the man who, side by side with him, stormed the fortress at Aqaba.
From the Memoirs of a Prussian Royal Uhlan, pub. 1856 by Kapitan Franziske Grzybowski (continued...)
In August, after having defeated three armies, our scouts reported no more large formations, so the time had come to move on our next target – Aqaba. One of King Solomon’s ancient cities, Aqaba is home to a centuries-old fortress. But we are told by local guides that its defenses are primarily oriented toward the ocean. The Kronprinz believes we can take the city by storm if we cross the desert.
We mounted our expedition, leaving the Sachsen Uhlans behind to protect Sinai. The route was long, hot, dry and treacherous. We lost many camels, and not a few men in the effort. But when we arrived to overlook Aqaba, we knew that we would be successful. The defenders were some of the same we had met in earlier battles in the Sinai, and they were weak. We fell upon them, and approached the ramparts of the fort with the sweeping, loping glide peculiar to camelback cavalry.
I was riding at the side of His Majesty, Kronprinz Friedrich, when suddenly my right foot lost its hold of its stirrup. At the speed we were charging, I had to frantically grapple to avoid being unbalanced, felled, and trampled underfoot. It wasn’t until after I’d regained my safety that I realized I’d been hit by a bullet.
I’d slowed, and the Kronprinz peered back at me with concern. Blood spattered my pantleg, and the camel’s side, though the blood was all mine. I had no control of movement in my foot, my lower leg being apparently shattered. And then the pain seized me, and I cried out. The Kronprinz quickly ordered someone to attend to me, with the clear tone of a magisterial directive in his voice. And then he raced ahead with the rest of the regiment as they stormed the gates.
Soon, I came to be able to handle the pain. My attendant wrapped the wound, strapping two bayonets in parallel to stiffen my leg. This was all without my dismounting, as I felt I was in too much pain to do so – I have always been a stubborn patient. The sound of muskets and rifles was beginning to die down. And I felt I had missed my chance at fame.
Completely to my surprise, I found the Kronprinz at my side. He asked if I were able to ride. I put all else aside, and told him I was. He and I rode, slowly, side by side through the narrow gate into the captured fortress.
Once all was quiet and still, and once I had been taken to the infirmary to be looked at, it was discovered that the bullet (the Egyptians used bullets of massive caliber!) had lodged itself in my lower legbone, splintering it and forcing its pieces apart.
The war was very soon over, as was my military service to the Prussian Crown. Ultimately, I was able to walk ably, but I will always have the limp of a war veteran. So it was, in September 1854, that my 20-year career as a Prussian cavalry soldier and officer came to an end.
Thinking back, I am almost sure that during the battle, I had watched the Kronprinz – unmistakable, in his brilliant white uniform, silver breastplate, and plumed white charger (his was the only horse in the assault) – enter the fortress with the advance party. But ever since, he has had the enormous grace to introduce me to dignitaries as the man who, side by side with him, stormed the fortress at Aqaba.