The Charge Of The Light Brigade

The Crimean War, brief as was the interval it occupied in the annals of

time, was one replete with exciting events. And of these much the most

brilliant was that which took place on the 25th of October, 1854, the

famous "Charge of the Light Brigade," which Tennyson has immortalized in

song, and which stands among the most dramatic incidents in the history

of war. It was truthfully said by one of the French generals who

witnessed it, "It is magnificent, but it is not war." We give it for its

magnificence alone.






First let us depict the scene of that memorable event. The British and

French armies lay in front of Balaklava, their base of supplies, facing

towards Sebastopol. They occupied a mountain slope, which was strongly

intrenched. A valley lay before them, and some two miles distant rose

another mountain range, rocky and picturesque. In the valley between

were four rounded hillocks, each crowned by an earthwork defended by a

few hundred Turks. These outlying redoubts formed the central points of

the famous battle of October 25.



In the early morning of that day the Russians appeared in force,

debouching from the mountain passes in front of the allied army. Six

compact masses of infantry were seen, with a line of artillery in

front, and on each flank a powerful cavalry force, while a cloud of

mounted skirmishers filled the space between. Fronting the line of the

allies were the Zouaves, crouching behind low earthworks, on the right

the 93d Highlanders, and in front the British cavalry, composed of the

Heavy Brigade, under General Scarlett, and, more in advance, the Light

Brigade, under Lord Cardigan. Such were, in broad outline, the formation

of the ground and the position of the actors in the drama of battle

about to be played.



The scene opened with an attack on the advanced redoubts. No. 1 was

quickly taken, the Turks flying in haste before the fire of the Russian

guns. No. 2 was evacuated in similar panic haste, the Cossack

skirmishers riding among the fleeing Turks and cutting them mercilessly

down. The guns of No. 2 were at once turned upon No. 3, whose garrison

of Turks fired a few shots in return, and then, as in the previous

cases, broke into open flight. After them dashed the Cossack light

horsemen, flanking them to right and left, and many of the turbaned

fugitives paid for their panic with their lives. The Russians had won in

the first move of the game. They had taken three of the redoubts before

a movement could be made for their support.



Next a squadron of the Russian cavalry charged vigorously upon the

Highlanders. But a deadly rifle fire met them as they came, volley after

volley tearing gaps through their compact ranks, and in a moment more

they had wheeled, opened their files, and were in full flight. "Bravo,

Highlanders!" came up an exulting shout from the thousands of spectators

behind.



It was evident that Balaklava was the goal of the Russian movement, and

the heavy cavalry were ordered into position to protect the approaches.

As they moved towards the post indicated, a large body of the enemy's

cavalry appeared over the ridge in front. These were corps d'elite,

evidently, their jackets of light blue, embroidered with silver lace,

giving them a holiday appearance. Behind them, as they galloped at an

easy pace to the brow of the hill, appeared the keen glitter of

lance-tips, and in the rear of the lancers came several squadrons of

gray-coated dragoons as supports. As the serried ranks of horsemen

advanced, their pace declined from a gallop to an easy trot, and from

that almost to a halt. Their first line was double the length of the

British, and three times as deep. Behind it came a second line, equally

strong. They greatly outnumbered their foe.



It was evident that the shock of a cavalry battle was at hand. The

hearts of the spectators throbbed with excitement as they saw the Heavy

Brigade suddenly break into a full gallop and rush headlong upon the

enemy, making straight for the centre of the Russian line. On they went,

Grays and Enniskilleners, in serried array, while their cheers and

shouts rent the air as they struck the Russian line with an impetus

which carried them through the close-drawn ranks. For a moment there was

a glittering flash of sword-blades and a sharp clash of steel, and

then, in thinned numbers, the charging dragoons appeared in the rear of

the line, heading with unchecked speed towards the second Russian rank.



The gallant horsemen seemed buried amid the multitude of the enemy. "God

help them! they are lost!" came from more than one trembling lip and was

echoed in many a fearful heart. The onset was terrific: the second line

was broken like the first, and in its rear the red-coated riders

appeared. But the first line of Russians, which had been rolled back

upon its flanks by the impetuous rush, was closing up again, and the

much smaller force in their midst was in serious peril of being

swallowed up and crushed by sheer force of numbers.



The crisis was a terrible one. But at the moment when the danger seemed

greatest, two regiments of dragoons, the 4th and 5th, who had closely

followed their fellows in the charge, broke furiously upon the enemy,

dashing through and rending to fragments the already broken line. In a

moment all was over. Less than five minutes had passed since the first

shock, and already the Russian horse was in full flight, beaten by half

its force. Wild cheers burst from the whole army as the victors drew

back with almost intact ranks, their loss having been very small.



Thus ended the famous "Charge of the Heavy Brigade." Its glory was to be

eclipsed by that memorable "Charge of the Light Brigade" which became

the theme of Tennyson's stirring ode, and the recital of which still

causes many a heart to throb. We are indebted for our story of it to

the thrilling account of W.H. Russell, the Times correspondent, and a

spectator of the event.



As the Russian cavalry retired, their infantry fell back, leaving men in

three of the captured redoubts, but abandoning the other points gained.

They also had guns on the heights overlooking their position. About the

hour of eleven, while the two armies thus faced each other, resting for

an interval from the rush of conflict, there came to Lord Cardigan that

fatal order which caused him to hurl his men into "the jaws of death."

How it came to be given, how the misapprehension occurred, who was at

fault in the error, has never been made clear. Captain Nolan, who

brought the order, was one of the first to fall, and his story of the

event died with him. All we know is that he handed Lord Lucan a written

command to advance, and when asked, "Where are we to advance to?" he

pointed to the Russian line, and said, "There are the enemy, and there

are the guns," or words of similar meaning.



It is a maxim in war that "cavalry shall never act without a support,"

that "infantry should be close at hand when cavalry carry guns," and

that a line of cavalry should have some squadrons in column on its

flanks, to guard it against a flank attack. None of these rules was

carried out here, and Lord Lucan reluctantly gave the order to advance

upon the guns, which Lord Cardigan as reluctantly accepted, for to any

eye it was evident that it was an order to advance upon death. "Some one

had blundered," and wisdom would have dictated the demand for a

confirmation of the order. Valor suggested that it should be obeyed in

all its blank enormity. Dismissing wisdom and yielding to valor, Lord

Cardigan gave the word to advance, the brigade, scarcely a regiment in

total strength, broke into a sudden gallop, and within a minute the

devoted line was flying over the plain towards the enemy.



The movement struck Lord Raglan, from whom the order was supposed to

have emanated, with consternation. It struck the Russians with surprise.

Surely that handful of men was not going to attack an army in position?

Yet so it seemed as the Light Brigade dashed onward, the uplifted sabres

glittering in the morning sun, the horses galloping at full speed

towards the Russian guns, over a plain a mile and a half in width.



Not far had they gone when a hot fire of cannon, musketry, and rifles

belched from the Russian line. A flood of smoke and flame hid the

opposing ranks, and shot and shell tore through the charging troops.

Gaps were rent in their ranks, men and horses went down in rapid

succession, and riderless horses were seen rushing wildly across the

plain. The first line was broken. It was joined by the second. On went

the brigade in a single line with unchecked speed. Though torn by the

deadly fire of thirty guns, the brave riders rode steadily on into the

smoke of the batteries, with cheers which too often changed in a breath

to the cry of death.



Through the clouds of smoke the horsemen could be seen dashing up to and

between the guns, cutting down the gunners as they stood. Then,

wheeling, they broke through a line of Russian infantry which sought to

stay their advance, and scattered it to right and left. In a moment

more, to the relief of those who had watched their career in an agony of

emotion, they were seen riding back from the captured redoubt.



Scattered and broken they came, some mounted, some on foot, all

hastening towards the British lines. As they wheeled to retreat, a

regiment of lancers was hurled upon their flank. Colonel Shewell, of the

8th Hussars, saw the danger, and rushed at the foe, cutting a passage

through with great loss. The others had similarly to break their way

through the columns that sought to envelop them. As they emerged from

the cavalry fight, the gunners opened upon them again, cutting new lines

of carnage through their decimated ranks. The Heavy Brigade had ridden

to their relief, but could only cover the retreat of the slender remnant

of the gallant band. In twenty-five minutes from the start not a British

soldier, except the dead and dying, was left on the scene of this daring

but mad exploit.



Captain Nolan fell among the first; Lord Lucan was slightly wounded;

Lord Cardigan had his clothes pierced by a lance; Lord Fitzgibbon

received a fatal wound. Of the total brigade, some six hundred strong,

the killed, wounded, and missing numbered four hundred and twenty-six.



While this event was taking place, a body of French cavalry made a

brilliant charge on a battery at the left, which was firing upon the

devoted brigade, and cut down the gunners. But they could not get the

guns off without support, and fell back with a loss of one-fourth their

number. Thus ended that eventful day, in which the British cavalry had

covered itself with glory, though it had only glory to show in return

for its heavy loss.



Such is the story as it stands in prose. Here is Tennyson's poetic

version, which is full of the dash and daring of the wild ride.