The Battle of Balaclava.
1854.
Early on the morning of the 23rd September, 1854, the allied armies
left their camp on the battlefield of Alma, and marched northwards
towards Sebastopol. Traces of the haste in which the Russian army had
retreated were at hand on every side. Here a sword, there a pistol, a
belt, or even a tunic; the broad track, strewn with such relics, showed
clearly the path of the retreat.
At length the valley of the Katcha was reached, and the camp pitched
for the night. The advance was resumed early next morning, and about
mid-day, from the ridge of hills separating the valley of the Katcha
from that of the Baltic, the armies looked down upon their goal,
Sebastopol.
During a brief halt, Marshal St. Arnaud, whose bodily weakness was
increasing day by day, dismounted and lay upon the ground. Men noticed
that he looked sad and worn. He was, in fact, within a few days of his
death.
Here a council of war was held, and it was determined that the northern
side of Sebastopol was too strong to admit of an immediate assault, and
finally the decision was arrived at of executing a flank march inland
and attacking Sebastopol from the south. By the 26th September this
somewhat perilous movement was carried out with success, and the little
seaport of Balaclava surrendered to Lord Raglan without bloodshed. On
the same night, Marshal St. Arnaud resigned his command to General
Camobert, and three days later he died on board ship, whither he had
been carried for passage to France.
Balaclava was of vast importance to the allies, as its tiny harbour
gave them a means of communication with their fleets whilst these
were still out of the range of the guns of Sebastopol. Accordingly
the place was garrisoned by troops under Sir Colin Campbell, whilst
the main army moved northward a few miles to within a convenient
distance of Sebastopol, where they spent many days, some twenty in
all, disposing their forces, erecting batteries, and making all the
necessary preparations for a prolonged and persistent siege. Meanwhile,
the Russians busily fortified the place, glad of the unexpected delay,
since they had anticipated an immediate assault. Several of the finest
ships were sunk at the mouth of the harbour to keep the allied fleets
at bay, and works of counter-fortification went busily forward. Admiral
Korniloff and Colonel Todleben were the two chief officers in command,
Prince Mentschikoff having withdrawn the main portion of his army to
the Baltic, where he remained for a considerable period in a state of
extraordinary inactivity. By the 6th October, however, he was prevailed
upon to increase the garrison of Sebastopol to some 53,000 men.
On the 17th October, 1854, the allied armies opened fire upon
Sebastopol, and the deafening cannonade was maintained daily till
the evening of the 25th October. An account of the siege and final
surrender of Sebastopol is given in a later chapter.
In the meantime, on the 18th October, a Russian field army was observed
to be manœuvring on the allied flank and rear, and threatening the
somewhat isolated garrison of Balaclava. The defensive measures taken
for the defence of Balaclava consisted of inner and outer lines of
defence. The town and harbour themselves were protected by steep hills,
except at the gorge of Kadikoi, towards the north. Accordingly, these
hills were fortified by the marine artillery, and held by marines and
two companies of the 93rd regiment, while the gorge of Kadikoi itself
was defended by six companies of the 93rd Highlanders and a battalion
of Turks, with artillery, the whole constituting the inner line of
defence.
Now the gorge of Kadikoi opens out into a more or less level plain
known as the plain of Balaclava, a mile north of the town. It was here
that there was destined to be fought the great cavalry battle which
holds so glorious a place in annals of the British army. Right across
the centre of this plain, which is three miles long by two broad, and
hemmed in on all sides by hills from 300 to 400 feet high, is a low
continuous chain of hills or ridge dividing the plain of Balaclava
into two portions, called respectively the north and south valleys,
and carrying the main Woronzoff Road or Causeway. This ridge of hills
was known to our men as the Causeway heights, and constituted the
outer line of defence, by which the enemy might be hindered from even
penetrating to the south valley. A chain of redoubts were thrown up
along the Causeway heights by our engineers and manned by Turks. The
only supporting force available in the event of an attack was the
cavalry, under Lord Lucan, some 1500 strong, which was encamped in the
south valley within the outer line of defence.
The cavalry force consisted of two brigades--the Heavy Brigade,
composed of the Scots Greys, Enniskillens, 1st Royal Dragoons, and 4th
and 5th Dragoon Guards, under General Hon. James Scarlett, and the
Light Brigade, under Lord Cardigan, consisting of the 4th and 13th
Light Dragoons, the 8th and 11th Hussars, and the 17th Lancers. The
whole garrison of Balaclava was, as before mentioned, under the chief
command of Sir Colin Campbell.
On the evening of the 24th October, the troops of all divisions turned
in for the night as usual, little conscious of the fact that a force
of 25,000 Russians was advancing stealthily towards them from three
different directions, their object being to seize the outer line of
defence. Arising an hour before daybreak, Lord Lucan and his staff,
mounted and moving slowly along in an easterly direction, perceived,
in the dim light, two ensigns flying from the easternmost redoubt!
Instantly all was activity, for the flying of two ensigns from the
fort was the signal prearranged with the Turks to announce the Russian
advance in force. The Light Cavalry Brigade was sent forward to support
the Turks, and an aide-de-camp was despatched at full speed to Lord
Raglan informing him at once of the turn of affairs.
Says a private soldier of the Black Watch:--“It so happened that all
our regiment was in camp, and we were expecting to get that day’s
rest, but the rations were scarcely served out when the words came,
‘Fall in! fall in at once!’ I need not say that the order was obeyed
in all haste by the whole division, and His Royal Highness (The Duke
of Cambridge) and Colonel Cameron marched us off in the direction of
Balaclava.” Thus the 1st and 4th Divisions with Bosquet’s forces were
promptly despatched to the scene of action, but meantime, in the plain
of Balaclava things were happening.
The Turkish defence had not lasted long. Contrary to popular opinion,
the historian of the war extols the bravery of the Turkish troops at
this juncture, who, if they were compelled to beat an ignominious
retreat, did so at least in the presence of overwhelming numbers of
the enemy, and practically without support from our troops. In a very
little while the outer line of defence was captured, the Russian
cavalry in the meantime proceeding down the north valley towards the
gorge of Kadikoi. Here, it will be remembered, Sir Colin Campbell stood
awaiting them in person with the 93rd Highlanders.
As the foremost Russian horsemen appeared heading towards the gorge,
the eager Highlanders began to spring forward, but the angry voice of
their veteran commander held them in check, and saved them from being
cut to pieces by the cavalry in the open plain. Meanwhile the Turkish
fugitives streaming down the south valley towards Kadikoi, had been
formed up into some sort of order by Sir Colin, and together with
the 93rd they stood awaiting the Russian cavalry charge. That charge
never came. But while the steady line of Highlanders poured a heavy
fire into the advancing force, without waiting for its effect, the
Osmanlis turned and fled, falling over each other in their haste. The
Highlanders alone confronted the foe. “Remember, there is no retreat,
men!” said Sir Colin, as he rode along the line; “you must die where
you stand!” “Ay, ay, Sir Colin,” came the quick reply, and a second
later the order rang out clear and sharp, and a second heavy volley met
the advancing enemy.
It proved too much for the dreaded horsemen of the Czar, and in a few
moments they turned and retreated in confusion, another volley helping
them on their way. The strain relaxed, the victorious Highlanders
turned their faces to watch the retreating soldiers of the Sultan, and
in a moment, where had been set, stern faces and lips drawn tight, were
seen countenances convulsed with laughter and powder-stained cheeks
furrowed by tears of uncontrollable merriment.
For in their retreat past the camp of the Highlanders some of the
Turkish soldiers had paused for a second with intent, it is supposed,
to pillage. Judge then of their amazement when from out of one of the
nearest tents emerged a stalwart and furious Scottish “wife,” who
seized the nearest of the Faithful by the ear and with stout stick and
sturdy arm belaboured his back and his red trousers till the blows
resounded far and wide. Not once, but again and again did this angry
lady (“she was a very powerful woman,” said an eye-witness) belabour
the soldiers of the Sultan, and long and loud was the laughter of the
93rd as Turk after Turk fled screaming from her fury, bawling, “Ship!
ship!” as he sought a safer refuge at the harbour of Balaclava. “Then,
if ever in history,” says Kinglake, “did the fortunes of Islam wane low
before the manifest ascendant of the Cross!”
In the meantime in the other part of the field events moved quickly.
The defeated squadron of Russian horse rejoined the main body in the
north valley, and under General Ryjoff moved up to the crest of the
Causeway heights, between the captured redoubts, with the intention of
falling upon our troops in the south valley. By this time Lord Raglan
had arrived upon the scene, and from a position where he could view the
whole field observed the Turkish flight at Kadikoi. Quick as thought he
directed the Heavy Brigade under General Scarlett to proceed to their
support. As the brigade rode along the south valley in execution of
this order, they were suddenly aware of a squadron of Russian cavalry
gazing down upon them from the Causeway heights upon their left, and
about to hurl itself upon their flank. To face about was the work of an
instant, though the odds were about ten to one, and for a few seconds
our cavalry awaited the Russian charge. At a well-governed speed and in
splendid order the Russians rode down the slopes of the hill, gradually
gathering impetus to press the charge, when, from some unexplained
cause, their trumpets sounded, the pace gradually slackened, and the
whole squadron came to a standstill within some four hundred yards of
our troops, and slowly opened out their front as if to envelope our
forces.
Scarlett was quick to seize this advantage accorded to him as if by a
miracle. Turning to his trumpeter, he called out, “Sound the charge!”
and in an instant, with their gallant General several paces in advance,
the Heavy Brigade hurled themselves up the hill straight at the halted
Russian line.
The front of our “three hundred” was composed of the Scots Greys and
Enniskillens, regiments long associated with each other in battle, and
old comrades in arms. Side by side they dashed up the gently-sloping
ground, and “the Greys with a low eager moan of outbursting desire, the
Enniskillens with a cheer,” met the enemy with a terrific shock.
Well was it for the gallant General Scarlett that he had ridden
several paces in advance of his men, and, hacking and hewing his way
single-handed, had cut deeply into the mass of Russian horsemen. For
their very numbers became a source of safety instead of danger to him,
so that he was enabled completely to escape the shock of the charge of
his own devoted troops, which completely crushed the first few ranks
of the Russians. After the first fierce shock, the fighting became
individual. Here a single scarlet horseman engaged with three or
four of the enemy, preserving his life solely by the strength of his
sword-arm. There a little knot of three or four cut a pathway through
overwhelming odds. “I never felt less fear in my life,” wrote one of
the Scots Greys after the fight; “I felt more like a devil than a man.
I escaped without a scratch, though I was covered with blood.”
General Scarlett himself received five wounds, none of which was he
conscious of at the time, while Lieutenant Elliot, his aide-de-camp,
had no fewer than fourteen sabre cuts, through which he not only lived,
but lived to be returned as “slightly wounded”!
The Russians suffered heavily, as our frenzied men cut their way
through and through their overwhelming mass. Spectators have described
the awe with which they watched this devoted body of scarlet-clad
men merge themselves into the sea of Russian grey, and many thought
they must be lost indeed. But the keen and practised eye of the
commander-in-chief saw that, far from being overwhelmed, our men,
though scattered, were more than holding their own. It was indeed the
first step to victory if it could be pushed home without delay. The joy
with which the order to support “the three hundred” was received may
be well judged from the spirit of Lord Cardigan, who, with the soon to
be famous Light Brigade, was halted watching the combat, and eagerly
awaiting the order to “go in.”
“Damn those Heavies!” cried the Earl many times, as in sheer rage at
the enforced inaction, he cantered furiously up and down the lines of
his squadron; “Damn those Heavies; they’ll have the laugh of us this
day!” A spirit shared, it may be stated, by every British trooper on
the scene. But it was not to the Light Brigade that Lord Raglan sent
the order “to support,” but to the comrades of the three hundred--the
Heavy Dragoons and Royals.
With wild cheers, and a charge which developed in many places into
a neck-and-neck race, these drove in upon the flanks of the Russian
horse, and beset the sorely-pressed Cossacks at many different points.
Till at length attacked both from within, where the acting-adjutant of
the Greys, Alexander Miller, towering on his enormous horse and holding
aloft his reeking sword, was collecting his regiment with a stentorian,
“Rally, the Greys!”--attacked from without by the Royals and Dragoons,
and again charged from within by the Enniskillens--the Russian horsemen
began to back, their ranks loosened, and soon they galloped up the hill
for dear life in full retreat.
Then, as our Heavy Brigade, slowly and laboriously reformed, there
went up such a cheer from the 93rd and all who had witnessed the fight
as could be heard afar and all across the plain. A French General
exclaimed generously, “The victory of the Heavy Brigade was the finest
thing I ever saw.” Sir Colin Campbell, galloping up to where the Greys
were reforming, uncovered and spoke to the regiment. “Greys! gallant
Greys!” he said, according to one version, “I am sixty-one years old,
and if I were young again I should be proud to be in your ranks.” Nor
was this all. As General Scarlett, blood-stained from head to foot,
having cut his way from one end of the Russian cavalry to the other,
emerged upon the scene, an aide-de-camp tore up to him from Lord
Raglan, and nearly throwing his horse upon its haunches, with hand at
the salute, delivered in the ears of the regiment the chief’s gracious
message of “Well done!” which caused the hearts of all to swell with
pride and eyes to gleam with joy.
But Lord Raglan was not the man to waste precious time, and instantly
comprehending that now at once was the occasion to push home the
cavalry victory, sent two successive orders to Sir George Cathcart,
whose 4th Division was by this time approaching the scene, to at once
press on and recapture the redoubts. These orders for some reason
were somewhat sluggishly obeyed, and so great was the delay that Lord
Raglan, growing impatient, determined to use his swifter cavalry arm.
An aide-de-camp with written instructions was despatched post haste
to Lord Lucan, to order that the cavalry should advance and recover
the heights. Here again the order was misunderstood, Lord Lucan being
indisposed to move too far forward without supports, and a delay of
half an hour occurred.
Minute after minute passed by as Lord Raglan and his staff from the
higher ground swept the field with their glasses, and still no cavalry
appeared. Then all at once it was perceived that the enemy with ropes
and horses, was preparing to drag off the captured British guns.
Instantly Lord Raglan despatched the world-renowned “fourth order,” the
text of which was clear and unmistakable. It ran as follows:--“Lord
Raglan wishes the cavalry to advance rapidly to the front, and try to
prevent the enemy carrying away the guns. Troops of horse artillery may
accompany. French cavalry is on your left. Immediate.”
To Captain Nolan--“the impetuous Nolan”--was entrusted the carrying
of this message, and many have recorded the dangerous and breakneck
speed at which he set off upon his errand, riding straight down the
steep face of the hill, turning his horse’s head neither to right nor
left, on his urgent journey to Lord Lucan. As one who had been with
Lord Raglan watching and waiting for the appearance of the cavalry who
never came, it may be readily imagined that Nolan was in a temper, and
briefly and uncompromisingly he thrust the order into the hands of his
superior officer.
Once again Lord Lucan conceived the enterprise a dangerous one, and
ventured unwisely to say so. Nolan, by this time thoroughly roused,
blurted out, “Lord Raglan’s orders are that the cavalry should advance
immediately,” and, says Lord Lucan in his narrative, pointed to the
north valley, where the Russian guns were dimly seen in battery. It is
probable, nay, almost certain, that Nolan merely waved his hand in a
general forward direction, but Lord Lucan conceived him to indicate the
north valley.
Stung by the implied reproach of his inferior, Lord Lucan resolved
to carry out the order at once, as he conceived it, and straightway
commanded Lord Cardigan that the cavalry were to advance, not, as Lord
Raglan had intended, up the Causeway heights, to recapture our own lost
guns, but up the deadly north valley, where the enemy’s guns were in
position on every side.
Well did the Earl of Cardigan know the awful danger of the task thus
erroneously allotted to him, but to Lord Lucan’s order he returned a
cheerful “Certainly sir!” and, placing himself at the head of his men,
quietly gave the order, “The Brigade will advance!”
Again and again poets and historians have placed on record the fearless
devotion to duty thus called into play, and if the advance of the Light
Brigade was one of the gravest military errors ever made, yet its
achievement forms one of the noblest pages of the national military
history.
“Gallop!” came the order, short and sharp, and as one man the 673 of
all ranks bent to the saddle, and, with Lord Cardigan at their head,
swept over the grassy sward straight to where the Russian guns stood,
backed by five and twenty thousand horse and foot.
For a moment the foe were paralysed at the awe-inspiring folly of the
British. They gasped to see the small body of cavalry, with faces set,
their chargers with manes and tails streaming in the wind, galloping
down the deadly valley to their death. Then their wonder gave place to
rage. From right and left and straight in front burst forth a sheet of
flame, and with a deafening crash the hail of lead tore through the
devoted ranks.
One of the first to fall was Nolan, who had joined the charge, a
volunteer, and right in front of the division rode with uplifted sword,
to the intense fury of Lord Cardigan, who claimed that proud position
for himself. There is little doubt that Nolan intended to change the
direction of the charge, seeing at last the full extent of the error
which had been made, but this was not to be. A fragment of a Russian
shell tore Nolan’s gallant breast, and, says Kinglake, “from what had
been Nolan there burst forth a cry so strange and so appalling that
the hussar who rode nearest him has always called it unearthly. And in
truth I imagine that the sound resulted from no human will, but rather
from those spasmodic forces which may act upon the form when life has
ceased.... The shriek men heard rending the air was the shriek of a
corpse.”
On into the pen of fire rode the Light Brigade. Saddles emptied fast,
and riderless horses, as is the manner of the poor brutes, ranged
themselves on either side of the gallant leader, Lord Cardigan, and
their hoofs thundered with the rest. Shrieks, curses, groans, and
cheers were mingled as onward, ever onward, at racing speed, rode the
brave band. Never once did Lord Cardigan turn in his saddle, but,
erect and straight, flew over the grass, and, with eyes riveted on the
crimson tunic of their leader, the gallant men followed him to death.
Down went man and horse, with shriek, with prayer, and some without a
sound, but never a pause in the devoted ranks.
“Now, my brave lads, for old England!” roared Sir George Paget, as they
dashed towards the guns; onward, ever onward, till at length the guns
were reached, and those who were left rode in behind them cutting and
thrusting at the gunners with a maniacal fury.
Lord Cardigan has described the dull wonder with which he found
himself unhit by the discharge of a twelve-pounder almost in his face,
and the next instant cutting and slashing at the men who fired it.
Eye-witnesses have described the awful sights seen after the charge; of
the charge itself few can speak with accuracy.
Says a private soldier of the Black Watch, who by this time had arrived
upon the scene:--“A Russian gunner was holding his head together. It
had been struck with a cavalry sword. He was alive, and was walking to
the front, when my comrade called out, ‘Don’t take him to the front,
take him to the rear; our doctors may make something of him.’ He was
sent to the rear holding his head together. It was often spoken of
years afterwards in our regiment.”
“I saw one of the Greys,” says the same man, Alexander Robb of Dundee,
“holding his arm that was nearly cut through. He also was able to walk.
As he was passing us he said, ‘They say the Russians are not good at
the sword, but I never gave a point but I got a parry,’ and he made his
way, laughing, to the surgeons.”
Thus were the guns taken at Balaclava. “It was magnificent, but it was
not war,” said General Bosquet. The position was untenable, and after a
few brief instants the order came “Threes about, retire!” and back rode
the shattered force--195 mounted men in all. Once more the Russian fire
broke out, and that the carnage on the return journey down the north
valley was not heavier was due entirely to the French cavalry, the
gallant Chasseurs d’Afrique. Realising the urgent danger of the Light
Brigade, they diverted the attention of the right-hand Russian battery
upon themselves, and thus doubtless preserved many lives in the ranks
of the sadly thinned six hundred.
That the whole charge of the Light Brigade was a grievous error none
could deny, least of all Lord Raglan, who angrily demanded of Lord
Cardigan, as the scattered remnant of the cavalry reformed--“What did
you mean, sir, by attacking a battery in front, contrary to all the
usages of war?” It is, however, not unpleasing to learn that, writing
privately of the charge, Lord Raglan has described it as “perhaps the
finest thing ever attempted!”
With the charge of the Light Brigade, which lasted some twenty minutes,
the battle practically ended, and about four o’clock the firing ceased.
The Russians still held the captured redoubts, and had indeed succeeded
in severing Balaclava from the main allied camps before Sebastopol, but
no strategical advantage could dim the lustre and the glorious prestige
of the hare-brained charge of Lord Cardigan and the Light Cavalry.
Lord Lucan was removed from the command of the cavalry of the “army of
the East,” and his request to be tried by court-martial was refused.
The allied and Russian losses at Balaclava were nearly equal in
number--between 600 and 700 on either side.