Alfred, Lord Tennyson, then the Poet Laureate of England got it exactly and succinctly right when he wrote “Not tho’ the soldier knew, someone had blunder’d... Charging an army, while all the world wonder’d.” He dashed off what would become the recital piece of every English schoolboy within moments of laying down the Times with a correspondent’s account of a disastrous vainglorious charge by the British Light Cavalry into the teeth of Russian artillery that commanded a long, narrow valley from the heights on both sides as well as the head of the vale. The poem, The Charge of the Light Brigade was rushed to press and published on December 9, 1854, less than six full weeks after the debacle of October 25 that year.
One
could easily argue that not only was the charge itself an inexcusable blunder,
but so was the whole Crimean War of
which it became the most celebrated
moment of a wretched waste of lives and treasure. For arcane motives involving international imperial rivalries
particularly involving the Great Game
of Russian dreams of a deep water port on the Indian Ocean as the threat to British India and to support ambitions in Afghanistan, former enemies Britain
and France came to the defense of the Ottoman Empire over Russians demands for protection of Orthodox
minorities in the Balkans.
Both
the new allies had large armies
uniformed, armed, and drilled for a Napoleonic Era war of massed
formations and open country maneuver. Although the English had some experience
with colonial warfare, both main
armies were more than rusty after 35 years of European peace and the English were
commanded by inexperienced and largely incompetent noblemen and wealthy gentry capable of buying
commissions.
Moreover,
the nature of modern warfare had changed and no one
was less prepared than the Western
powers. Principle innovations were vastly improved heavy and field artillery mounted
in unprecedented numbers, rifled muskets that increased the accuracy of infantry fire, and especially the use
of railroads to supply and reinforce Russian
forces through interior lines while
the British and French had a long and unreliable sea connection.
After
inconclusive early action in the Balkans, the British and French decided to
attack the bastion Russian control
of the Black Sea, Sevastopol on the Crimean Peninsula. The Western armies had been rushed to the theater with only summer campaign uniforms, inadequate
tents and bedding, on short rations of barely edible bully beef. Moreover,
many were weakened by
sickness contracted on crowded troop
transports and once ashore were stricken
by dysentery and infectious diseases.
Despite this, the British and
French had early success against the
ill-trained Russians after landing
unopposed on the Peninsula north of Sevastopol. But the Russians quickly fortified the
city and erected complex earthwork defenses which concentrated artillery
fire against possible attack. The war
quickly settled into a siege and the
allies were forced into miserable, water filled trenches opposite Russian defenses. Staggering losses were soon felt from
Russian artillery pounding but especially from disease, exposure, and malnutrition.
To
break the situation open, the British launched a flanking amphibious maneuver, landing a substantial force east of Sevastopol at Balaklava. It should have been a masterful, war ending operation. Instead, a large Russian Army began a counterattack
on the English toehold beginning on October 23, 1853 which quickly routed Ottoman forces occupying outer defenses on the highlands
around the port while capturing substantial Turkish artillery and turning it against the
English. Although the English rallied
in their defensive interior trenches, the problem soon became how to re-capture or neutralize the former Ottoman guns.
The
British cavalry, which had missed earlier fighting as it was delayed at sea had arrived. It consisted of two divisions under the command of Lieutenant General George Bingham, 3rd Earl of Lucan, who was under the overall orders
of Field Marshal FitzRoy Somerset, 9th Earl of Raglin.
The Heavy Brigade was mounted on chargers, wore silver helmets
and armored breast plates, and were armed with heavy cavalry sabers. These
men consisting of the 4th Royal Irish
Dragoon Guards, the 5th Dragoon
Guards, the 6th Inniskilling
Dragoons, and the Scots Greys
were intended as shock troops especially
trained for frontal assaults of artillery positions and capable of overwhelming them.
The Light Brigade included the 4th and 13th Light Dragoons, 17th
Lancers, and the 8th and 11th Hussars, under the command of Major General James Brudenell,
7th Earl of Cardigan. Lucan and
Cardigan were brothers-in-law but
also bitter service rivals who personally detested each other. This
enmity would have fateful consequences.
Raglin
recognized that the key to the upcoming campaign was re-capturing the
Turkish guns, mostly heavy naval rifles on
the heights. He intended for the fast moving Light Brigade to sweep
around Russian flanks and attack the guns before the Russians could evacuate them and hopefully send the
gunners into a panicked flight in
which they could be hacked to
pieces. It was exactly the kind of
work the light cavalry was designed for.
Raglin’s
written order to Lucan, drafted by Brigadier
Richard Airey read “Lord Raglan wishes the cavalry to advance rapidly to
the front, follow the enemy, and try to prevent the enemy carrying away the
guns. Troop horse artillery may accompany. French cavalry is on your left.
Immediate.” This hasty and somewhat cryptic order
was carried to Lucan by Raglan’s favorite,
dashing young Captain Louis Edward
Nolan. Nolan was widely regarded
as the most outstanding and capable young officer in the Cavalry
with a great career and high command in his future.
Nolan
rode hard to find Lucan and
excitedly handed the commander his orders.
Lucan was somewhat mystified by the orders and asked Nolan, “What guns
does he mean?” Nolan replied with a casual sweep of his hand including not just the hills, but
the concentration of artillery at the head of the Valley. Lucan assumed that he meant an assault
on those guns was the primary
objective.
Despite
the fact that such a charge was the purpose of the Heavy Cavalry under Major General James Yorke Scarlett, Lucan believed the order was
intended for Cardigan’s Light Brigade.
When
Cardigan received his orders to attack up the valley “without delay” he
recognized that his units would be riding into an unwinnable trap. He assumed
his brother-in-law had issued the order out of personal spite. But to uphold his honor he decided to
attack immediately without delaying for clarification of
the orders from Raglan.
With
Cardigan in the van, the 669 men of Light Brigade set off at a trot up the
long valley between Fedyukhin Heights and the Causeway Heights. As a staff
officer Nolan observed the maneuver and expected Cardigan to quickly split
his forces to the left and right to attack the heights. When instead they picked up the pace to a full
charge, a horrified Nolan rode around the troops and across their entire front
gesturing wildly and shouting “There’s been a mistake!” until he was shot out of the saddle and killed.
The
Heavy Brigade now under Lucan’s direct command, was held in reserve and was meant to follow the Light Brigade when it
breached the guns at valley’s head.
The Russian
forces commanded by Pavel Liprandi
included approximately 20 battalions
of infantry supported by over 50 artillery pieces deployed on both
sides and at the opposite end of the valley.
Enfilading fire soon ripped
the ranks of the troopers from the heights while the front was shredded by level fire heavy with grape.
Despite
the heavy carnage, troopers reached the guns and sent the Russian artillerymen
into flight. But they were not able to hold on. Lucan, observing
the disaster never launched his secondary attack with the Heavy
Cavalry. The Light Brigade was put to flight and the Russian crews returned to their guns to pour moved
devastating volleys into their backs.
The
Light Brigade suffered horrendous losses of officers and men—110 killed
outright, 161 wounded, 60 captured and 335 horses
killed in action, or were put down after because of their wounds.
The French light cavalry, the Chasseurs
d’Afrique under Armand-Octave-Marie d’Allonville,
did manage to clear the Fedyukhin Heights of two half batteries of guns, two infantry
battalions, and Cossacks and provided cover for the remaining elements of the Light Brigade
as they withdrew. The French Marshal Pierre Bosquet, famously observed of the Light Brigade sacrifice, “It is magnificent, but it
is not war, It is Madness!”
In
the end the soon to be world famous battle had no immediate tactical or long term strategic significance. The disorganized Russians, who had been
handed a gift beyond their expectations were unable to take advantage of it and dislodge the
British from Balaklava. The Siege of Sevastopol
settled into a long, nightmarish
endurance contest that was a preview
of the trench warfare on the Western
Front during World War I.
The yearlong siege of Sevastopol killed
and wounded 170,000 men, on both sides not including the tens of thousands the
British and French lost to disease and ended when the Russians pulled off a near-miraculous evacuation of their
battered remaining forces over a pontoon
bridge. It signaled an ultimate
Russian defeat but was delayed by some minor, face saving victories by the Tsar’s troops in the Balkans. An Austrian ultimatum to Russia brought the
parties to the negotiating table where the British and French were ready
to grant none-to-terrible terms to end the whole bloody affair
in March of 1856 with the Treaty of
Paris.
No
one got much out of the bloodbath except
the Ottomans. The famously ailing Sick Man of Europe was able to limp along as the edges of its Empire were nibbled away in rebellions and
small local wars until their
involvement in the Great War brought
down the ancient Sultanate.
When
word of the disaster reached London in November, public reaction mirrored Tennyson’s, if not so elegantly expressed. The
troops were lauded—even idolized—as gallant heroes whose devotion
to duty and country against impossible odds were inspiring and unquestionable. The Army and government did everything in their power to encourage and spread this sentiment. It was their armor against public outrage at the criminal
incompetence that led to the slaughter.
The
first report of the battle was printed in the The London Gazette in an
“Extraordinary Edition” on November
12 and contained the official dispatches
of senior officers as addressed
to the Secretary of State for
War and the Colonies Henry Pelham-Clinton, 5th Duke of Newcastle. Raglin put the blame almost completely on
Lucan:
…from some
misconception of the order to advance, the Lieutenant-General (Lucan)
considered that he was bound to attack at all hazards, and he accordingly
ordered Major-General the Earl of Cardigan to move forward with the Light
Brigade.
Raglin
essentially claimed that whatever the orders he received, Lucan on the ground
should have exercised his discretion.
When
he learned that the official reports had been publicly exposed, Lucan wrote a furious
reply saying that Raglin had bound
him strictly to absolute obedience to every order as issued. The War Ministry blocked publication as a breach of public decorum and disrespect
to a senior officer. Lucan was recalled from duty and arrived in
England in March 1854. But word of his objections became public knowledge, if
not the exact text of his defense.
It was the beginning of round-after-round of finger pointing and blame
shifting.
Meanwhile
William Russell of the Times,
the man who practically invented the roll of a professional war correspondent and would later notably cover major
campaigns in the American Civil War,
published his two lengthy accounts in December—the reports that inspired
Tennyson’s poem. None of the senior
command escaped his blame except for Cardigan who dutifully
and valiantly executed his fateful
orders and did not receive the promised support of the Heavy Brigade. Cardigan was able to return home a hero and
was elevated over his superiors to Inspector
General of the Cavalry.
When
Lucan arrived in London in March he immediately launched what would today be
called a public relations offensive. He began with an exchange of letters the Times he reiterated his criticism of Raglin but also turned his sights on
Captain Nolan for delivering a garbled
message with unseemly,
agitated excitement. Nolan
was the perfect target. He may have been a promising officer, but he was a junior one without as yet a wide
web of kin and supporters at the
upper levels of the Army and government.
He was an Irishman with no aristocratic connections. Best yet, he was dead and unable to mount a defense.
Lucan
repeated his defense in a speech to a friendly
House of Lords. It worked like a charm. Lucan escaped
further investigation or any formal charges against him. Although he never returned to active command,
he was awarded the prestigious Order of
the Bath that summer, made a full General in 1865 and a superannuated
Field Marshal in 1887, the year before his death at age 88.
As
for Raglin, he remained in command in the Crimea overseeing the fruitless
stalemate. A botched piecemeal allied
assault on Sevastopol on June 18, 1855 was a complete failure. The accounts of Florence Nightingale and others held him responsible for the
wretched condition of his troops and their suffering. His own health declined rapidly, accelerated
by what is now recognized as clinical
depression. He died, like so many of
his men, of dysentery, just ten days
after his final blunder. His body was
returned to England to a solemn welcome and
suitably grand funeral.
When
the survivors of the Light Brigade finally arrived home with the rest of the
battered Crimean army, their ranks further
thinned by subsequent actions and mostly by disease and exposure, they were
lionized. There were a number of reunions
over the years, most notably one in In October 1875 at the Alexandra Palace in London to celebrate its 21st anniversary of the
battle. It was the largest event of its
kind. The elderly Lucan, probably unsure
of his welcome, declined to attend but dined the same night with some of his
former officers.
In
1890 Rudyard Kipling wrote his own
piece about the Light Brigade portraying an apocryphal visit to Tennyson
by the “twenty last survivors” begging him to write a new poem to shame the British public into offering
financial assistance to the elderly and
neglected veterans.
Some
observers credit the glory bestowed on the Light Brigade for the mindset of sacrificial devotion to
duty the led a generation of
young Britons to their doom in fruitless over-the-top bayonet charges into No Man’s Land in the teeth of German machine guns and artillery in the Great War. And as in the Crimea, incompetent but
aristocratic commanders usually escaped blame for the slaughter.
The
American Civil War helped popularize Tennyson’s poem in this country as an ode to battlefield gallantry. It was popular with troops on both sides, but
especially cherished by the plumed
knights of J.E.B.
Stuart’s Confederate Cavalry. In
the post-war years it became nearly as popular a school recital piece here as
it did in Britain.
Most
Americans are only familiar with the battle through fragmentary memories of the
poem or from the highly inaccurate 1936
Warner Bros. historical romance,
The Charge of the Light Brigade starring
Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland. The
movie portrayed the charge as revenge for
a massacre of Lancers at the hands of a Russian
influenced religious fanatic on the Northwest
Frontier of India. In the film Flynn
and his Indian Army troops are miraculously posted to the Light Brigade and the
villainous Surat Khan and his men are
manning the Russian guns. Flynn thus portrayed
heroic figures in two of the most famous military disasters of the 19th Century including They Died With Their Boots On about
George Armstrong Custer in 1941.
Tony Richardson’s 1968 British film, The Charge of the Light Brigade, a savage indictment of the stupidity of war and the British class system made at the height of the Vietnam War era, was epic in scale, but contained elements of bitter satire. It got the facts of the debacle mostly straight. Little seen in the U.S. it had a stellar cast of British film and theater notables including John Gielgud as Lord Raglin, Harry Andrews as Lord Lucan, Trevor Howard as Lord Cardigan, and Richardson’s wife, Vanessa Redgrave. David Hemming played Captain Nolan as both a sympathetic naïve young man and a vainglorious twit, the perfect scapegoat for the disaster. It was the most expensive British film at the time it was shot but was a box office failure when Richardson refused to screen the film for critics and went out of his way to insult and alienate them. In retrospect the neglected film has been listed as one of the 100 Best War Films of All Time in a 2004 British public opinion poll.
It has been 55 years
since that last film. Many futile wars later, perhaps a new
version is in order. Too bad it would probably be too
expensive to make and historical epics are out
of fashion.
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