THE VICTORIOUS CHARGE OF THE HEAVY BRIGADE--THE
SCOTCH WIFE AND THE TURKS--THE LIGHT BRIGADE,
AND THEIR AWFUL CHARGE.
Meanwhile, where was Menschikoff?
That question may well begin a fresh chapter. He had gone north, as
I have said, to keep the communications open, and he did so most
effectually. Not only did he get 12,000 troops around him that had
not yet been in action, but soon received reinforcements from Russia,
in addition to these, till his army swelled to 22,000, besides 3,500
horsemen and 78 guns.
He thought it was time to return now and see what we were about.
He was careful not to show his great resources. This might have
frightened us into action sooner than was desirable.
Spies were very busy; nor was there much difficulty in such
espionage, and it was soon found out that, bar the somewhat weak
works manned by Turks on the range of heights I have already
mentioned as stretching from Kamara Hills to the Upland across the
valley of Balaklava, there was nothing much to fear between them and
our camp. The 93rd were certainly something, but they could easily
crush them by sheer force of numbers; and as for the Turks and
marines round the harbour of Balaklava, well, they were too far away
to take into account.
The height nearest to Kamara was called Canrobert's Hill. That was
speedily taken, and so was the next one to it. The Turks with their
twelve-pounders had done all they could, and artillery had also been
hurried up to help them, supported by the Scots Greys.
These had soon, however, to retreat for want of ammunition.
The Turks were beaten back, and fled, after a stubborn resistance,
towards Balaklava.
At first Lord Raglan--it was early on the morning of the twenty-fifth
of October--was not fully apprised of the real nature of the
onslaught. I do not think the allies expected that the Russians
would assume the offensive. But now the Fourth and First British
Divisions were speedily turned out, and with them two brigades of the
French.
And then a mistake was made on our part; for instead of the First
Division being taken down to the plain by the Woronzoff Road, where
they could have hurled the Russians back, they were marched along the
Upland edge to the more southerly road leading down to Kadikoi.
In the valley next the Tchernaya was the Light Cavalry Brigade,
commanded by Lord Cardigan, and on the other side of the ridge and
captured heights was the Heavy Brigade. This, which had lately
joined our forces, was commanded by General Scarlett. It was made up
of the 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards, with the Scots Greys, Royals, and
Inniskillings.
The Light Brigade was, at the time of the terrible attack made by the
Russians on the Heavy, remaining on the defensive on the other side
of the captured ridge; and the whole was commanded by Lord Lucan.
Lord Raglan on the heights, among his marching divisions, saw the
advance of the Russian army _en masse_ on the Heavy Brigade. As they
came on they threw out a line on each flank with artillery to play on
our troops on the Upland. Their shot, however, fell short.
The Heavy Brigade were at first, in a measure, taken by surprise,
and, moreover, embarrassed somewhat by their own lines, and so were a
little time in getting clear.
Meanwhile, some Turkish guns on the edge of the Upland began to play
on the Russian cavalry, which soon galloped off.
But clear now, the Heavy Brigade charged in earnest.
And such a charge!
It was a scene that Lord Raglan could not have forgotten till his
dying day. Here was in reality the very romance of war itself.
Nothing was wanting in effect or colour--our prancing horses, the
splendid uniforms of the troopers, the lightning glitter of sabres,
and the thunder of the charging feet. On and on they dash; and now
foe meets foe, and every horseman becomes the single centre of crowds
of the enemy. But, apart from this front and terrible pell-mell
charge, behold the 4th Dragoons--held back for a time--gallop
thundering up now and attack the enemy's flank.
What Russian force can stand it? What can the enemy do but turn and
fly? And in less time than it takes me to tell it, they have swept
back over the slope whence they had come, leaving the ground flecked
with their bleeding dead and wounded.
* * * * *
In the next tableau of this eventful battle Llewellyn's regiment took
part; for during the charge of the Heavy Brigade, some squadrons of
the Russian cavalry made straight for the entrance to the harbour.
They reckoned without their host for once in a way. That host was
Sir Colin himself, with the 93rd Highlanders, who were lying down
concealed behind a slope.
"Ah! it is one thing," said Grant, "for these grey-backs to send a
parcel of slatternly old Turks down from their heights harbour-way
here; let them come down this way themselves."
"Look, then," cried Llewellyn; "here they come!"
Nearer and nearer thundered the Russian horse. Then at the word of
command up sprang the wild Highlanders and showed their tartans and
plumes on the hillock.
Next moment the whole regiment would have charged, and probably been
cut up. But the shout from their leader quelled them at once.
"Ninety-third! Ninety-third!" cried Sir Colin; "hang all such
eagerness! Stand fast! Fire!"
There was a rattling volley. The Russian squadron was checked, but
attempted now to outflank Sir Colin.
But that hero quickly placed his grenadiers round, and again the
squadron paused, and finally fled.
It takes greater bravery and pluck to wait inactive on hillside or in
wood for the advance of a foe than it does to repel a charge. If
ever soldiers are really frightened, it is while waiting thus. But
in the 93rd Regiment there was none of this excessive nervousness.
In their broad Doric they laughed and chaffed, as they used to at
night when safe in camp. And when the Turks came flying harbourwards
in despair, and a few of them rushed into the camp of the
Highlanders, a scene took place that caused every officer and man in
this gallant regiment to laugh aloud. For, thinking that these men
were about to pillage the camp, out from one of the tents,
porridge-stick in hand, rushed a tall and powerful Highlander's wife.
She laid about her right and left. Like Roderick Dhu, she
"Showered her blows like wintry rain."
Whack, whack, whack rang the blows; and the woman's tongue was by no
means idle the while. Whack, whack. "De'il rot ye, for a lot o'
rievin' rascals. You'll no come here to steal while oor gudemen's
awa."
"Kokona! kokona!"* cried the Turks. "Mercy, mercy!"
* Lady, lady.
"Bravo, Betty!" shouted a soldier. "Let them tak that, as they can
tak no snuff."
The 93rd were indeed glorious soldiers, but just a trifle wild and
impetuous.
* * * * *
But a charge more terrible than that of the good Scot's wife was soon
to be made. This was the world-famous charge of the 600--the charge
of the Light Brigade.
This brigade, it will be remembered, consisted of the 4th and 13th
Light Dragoons, the 17th Lancers, and 8th and 11th Hussars, and was
commanded by Lord Cardigan. I have already told you where it was
stationed.
The terrible charge, through two flanking fires, to capture guns at
the other end of the valley, was the result of a mistake.
For a full and detailed account of it--and it reads like a romance of
the olden time--I must refer the reader to the great Crimean
historian Kinglake.
The mistake seems to have been made by Lord Raglan, who thought the
enemy were in full retreat, and that they were about to carry away
the guns from the heights they had first captured.
Twice he sent orders in writing to Lord Lucan to advance the cavalry
rapidly to the front, and prevent the enemy from carrying away these
guns.
Captain Nolan took this order to Lord Lucan. Lord Lucan, as the
enemy was not retreating, naturally asked Nolan, "What guns?"
Nolan answered, almost disrespectfully and tauntingly, "There, my
lord, is the enemy," pointing towards the valley; "there are your
guns."
Lord Lucan rode off to Cardigan.
"You are to charge right down the valley with your brigade. The
Heavies will follow in support."
He looked at Lucan. His very look seemed to imply that there must be
some mistake.
"This means death--annihilation," he thought; "but it is Lord
Raglan's orders. A soldier's first duty is obedience."
"The brigade will advance!" shouted Cardigan, and in a loud voice.
And right down that valley of death they charged upon the twelve guns
in front. A splinter from the very first shell killed Captain Nolan,
who was waving his sword and riding obliquely across the front of
this mad attack. Why he was there or what he meant may never be
guessed. Back through the ranks of the 13th flew his startled horse,
bearing the body of his master--lifeless.
In a very short time Cardigan and his brave brigade were in the thick
of it--death on every side, death in front, shattering shells,
roaring shot overhead, and saddles emptied every second; horses and
riders falling together, horses galloping riderless into the still
more awful fire that poured upon them when they neared the twelve
guns. The valley was strewed with the dead and the wounded--the
latter, whether horses or men, sometimes rising, but to fall dead
next moment.
The Russians themselves must have thought them mad.
Yet that brave brigade knew no fear, no faltering; straight into the
ranks of the foe rode they, and smoke and fire for a time swallowed
them up. The Russian gunners were cut down where they stood, or
driven from their guns, and our men even charged the enemy's cavalry.
They had done their duty!
They had obeyed orders as they had been understood. But alas, and
yet alas! when the brigade returned the whole numbered but 195!
The Russians were certainly beaten at Balaklava, and no clasp
glitters with greater honour on the Crimean medal that adorns the
breasts of our sturdy veterans; but we lost ground by it.
It might have been well for us had we chosen as our base the bay of
Kamiesch, in conjunction with the French.
But a greater battle than all was soon to follow Balaklava.