I consider myself one of the most fortunate men in England to have
been one of those spared out of the 600 about whom so much has been
said and sung. Although my military career has been brief, I have seen
a great deal. I have seen war in all its horrors. It is said to be "an
ill wind that blows nobody good"; so it has been with me. I have
learned to doubly appreciate home and all its comforts. Before going
out to the Crimea I was accustomed to see, on these occasions, farmers
looking happy and contented, and I was in the habit of thinking what a
great nation England was, and how she flourished in all things; but
since the war commenced I have seen the other side of the picture. I
have seen an army march into an hostile country, and in the midst of
farms flowing with milk and honey, and teeming with corn and every
luxury--and there, in a few hours, all was desolation, one stone not
being left on another, and the people made slaves to the invaders. How
thankful we ought to be that we are not suffering at the hand of an
invading army. Now that my military career is at an end I am sure that
a great many of you will sympathise with my father, whose anxiety has
been very great. We were out during the most dreadful period of the
war, and it need not be wondered at that I yielded to the most earnest
entreaties of my father to relinquish my connection with the army lest
I should bring his grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. My father
thought that one such action as I have been in was sufficient to prove
the mettle of his son. I will not further enlarge on the horrors and
miseries of war. May you never see them as I have done, and may we
all meet at this festive board next year.
_Newport Agricultural Show,
December 18th, 1855._
I do not intend to say much about Balaclava to-day because you have
heard the old story over and over again, and I am too old now to
invent stories of Balaclava. On my way down here I stopped to receive
a telegram worded in these terms:--"Fifteen survivors of the Balaclava
Charge send your lordship hearty congratulations and affectionate
remembrances on this day, the 54th anniversary." Well, recollections
of a sad event are at any time, of course, unpleasant, but it is
particularly sad to think that there are now only 15 survivors
remaining out of the Light Brigade of 600. That attenuated number does
not include myself, and there are three other officers still alive.
You may be pretty confident that of these few survivors there were at
least two or three with whom I conversed within a few hours of the
Balaclava Charge. You can imagine those conversations. They were not
very lively ones. They referred probably to some comrade who had been
killed or to the difficulty of filling the place of some officer who
had fallen; because when we drew up after the Balaclava Charge I was
the officer in command of the decimated regiment. All my superior
officers had been either killed or wounded, and I was placed in the
difficult position to find men suddenly to fill the vacancies. So you
can imagine the recollections of those survivors. Since that time
there have been a number of gallant deeds on the part of the British
army, and I hope that those gallant deeds will be remembered, just as
the Balaclava Charge is remembered here. I hope the British nation
will never forget such events as Trafalgar and Waterloo, but will
always hoist a flag or do something else to commemorate them.
_Balaclava Dinner, Bassaleg,
October 25th, 1908._
My own courage in the memorable charge was small, but the deed of
daring conferred everlasting credit on the Senior Officers who took
part in it. I trust that you will keep your offspring fully acquainted
with the heroic deeds of the British Army, and induce them to display
similar courage in the hour of their country's danger.
_Balaclava Dinner, Castleton,
October 25th, 1890._
When a person gets beyond the allotted age of man there must, I think,
be in his mind a melancholy thought regarding the possibility of his
being present on a similar occasion twelve months hence. I am afraid
that some men of my age would have to limp into a room, probably
assisted by a crutch. Fortunately, however, I was able to walk into
the room without a crutch and without assistance, and I am thankful
for that to the Power above. The term "hero" is a term with which many
soldiers do not agree. The mention of the word recalls to my mind the
well-known lines of Rudyard Kipling:
"We aren't no thin red 'eroes,
An' we aren't no blackguards, too,
But single men in barracks,
Most remarkable like you."
I am sure the soldiers who fought with the Light Cavalry at Balaclava
did not think themselves greater heroes than others in the Crimea who
did their duty. Quite recently I read an article in a military
magazine, it dealt with the question of the advance of cavalry and the
arms which should be given them--the lance, the sword, and the rifle.
The article commenced with the statement that it was the business of
every soldier to go into action with the determination to try and kill
someone. I suppose that is right in its way, but it was hardly the
sentiment we went into action with. We went into action to try to
defeat the enemy, but the fewer we killed the better. I have to
confess that I tried to kill someone, but to this day I congratulate
myself on the fact that I do not know whether I succeeded or no. In
these days of long range guns our consciences are saved a great deal,
and so far as killing anyone goes I always give myself the benefit of
the doubt, so that the charge of murder cannot be brought against me.
_Balaclava Dinner, Bassaleg,
October 29th, 1910._