Chapter 13
In This Chapter
● The Crimean War, 1854-1856
● The Battle of Alma
● The Battle of Balaklava
● The Battle of Inkerman
● The Fall of Sevastopol
One day in 1853 there was a terrific punch-up in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Bethlehem. It was between Roman Catholic and Greek Orthodox monks, and it was all about who was responsible for keys and who was allowed to place a silver star in the sanctuary. As a result, several of the Orthodox brethren received fatal injuries. The Turkish police, no doubt as puzzled as everyone else by the sight of holy men battering each other senseless, were unwilling to intervene in so sensitive an area, and simply stood by. Tsar Nicholas I of Russia, nominal protector of the Orthodox Christians within the crumbling Ottoman Empire, was delighted to have an excuse to start a war. His objective was to secure access to the Mediterranean through the Bosphorus and the Dardanelles, and if that meant destroying the Ottoman Empire in the process, so be it. He sent the Sultan an insulting series of demands that no self-respecting ruler could accept, then invaded Romania, which was a Turkish province at the time.
Napoleon III of France was anxious to be seen as a major figure in international affairs, and sided with Turkey. The British government didn’t have much time for Napoleon, whom it regarded as a slightly seedy adventurer, but its traditional policy had been to support Turkey as a check to Russian expansion, and it certainly had no intention of permitting a Russian presence to alter the naval balance in the Mediterranean. It was, in effect, playing an extension of the Great Game (find more on this in Chapter 12). British and French naval squadrons arrived off Constantinople. On 4 November, suitably encouraged, the Sultan declared war on Russia, followed on 28 March 1854 by Britain and France, now allies. They decided to teach the Tsar a lesson by destroying the Russian naval base of Sevastopol, on the south coast of the Crimea. The Allies assembled a 50,000-strong expeditionary force for the purpose. The British contingent consisted of one cavalry and five infantry divisions. The Crimean War had begun.
Armies with the following types of soldier fought the Crimean War:
● Infantrymen: Infantry still fought in close formations (as they had done during the Napoleonic Wars) in the Crimea, the exception being light infantry regiments who adopted a more flexible, open fashion. The new Enfield rifle gave British regiments a distinct advantage over their opponents.
● Heavy cavalry: Dragoons and dragoon guards were employed for shock action intended to shatter the enemy’s formation. The mounted infantry role had long since been abandoned by the British heavy cavalry regiments.
● Light cavalry: Hussars and lancers were employed in scouting, reconnaissance, and forming screens during advance or retreat, but were still capable of shock action.
Very clever - They call it technology, you know!
The advent of railways meant that troops could move from one place to another faster and in greater numbers than ever before; larger armies could take the field and trains could deliver everything they needed. Likewise, the steamer had an advantage over the sailing ship in that it did not depend on wind and tide to anything like the same degree. Consequently, steamers could transport troops to anywhere in the world in a fraction of the time previously needed. The electric telegraph enabled commanders in the field to inform their political masters of the current situation and request reinforcements or supplies as necessary. The telegraph, however, was a mixed blessing, as politicians were now able to badger generals who already had enough to think about, and war correspondents of the expanding popular press were able to file despatches illustrating the shortcomings of the military. The army regarded correspondents as a necessary evil, and tolerated rather than encouraged their presence.
Developments in armaments meant that infantry battles were about to undergo a radical change. Percussion caps, eliminating the need to prime a musket's touch hole, were adopted for general use in 1839. Of even greater importance was the invention of a French officer, Captain Claude Minie, who produced an elongated rifle bullet with a hollow base. When fired, the hollow base expanded to fit the grooves of the rifle, eliminating the loss of propellant gases that occurred with the old, loose-fitting balls. This not only increased the range of the weapon by a considerable margin, but also the penetrative power of the round itself. A new Royal Small Arms Factory established at Enfield in Middlesex manufactured this weapon, named the Enfield rifle-musket, which armed the infantry as a whole and not just the rifle regiments. Regiments received the first issues in 1854.
● Artillerymen: Field and horse artillery were employed in support of infantry and cavalry operations. Guns fired shot, shell, or canister ammunition as appropriate. Heavy artillery, armed with heavy guns and mortars, was extensively employed during the Siege of Sevastopol.
● Engineers: When it came to siege warfare, the engineers, including sappers and miners, were among the most important men in the army, as they were responsible for constructing the attackers’ siege works.
The British army had not fought a continental enemy for 40 years. At this stage, it was simply a collection of fine-quality regiments that had never worked together. As field days and reviews were the only occasions when the troops left barracks, some of their commanders had little idea of how much frontage their regiments needed in various situations. Warfare was moving on though - see the sidebar ‘Very clever - They call it technology, you know!’.
In the Red Corner: Commanding the British Army
No doubt the British government thought it was doing the right thing by appointing experienced officers to command four of the five infantry divisions. It was just unfortunate that their last experience had taken place during the Napoleonic Wars. Queen Victoria’s cousin, the 35-year-old Duke of Cambridge, who had no experience at all but at least was willing to learn, commanded the remaining infantry division.
In command of the British contingent was a very nice old gentleman, Lord Fitzroy Raglan, who had lost an arm at Waterloo. He had served under Wellington and had been his military secretary for 25 years. On Wellington’s death he was appointed Master General of the Ordnance. Now aged 67, he had never commanded so much as a company. To compound his difficulties, his staff were virtually untrained in their duties, and his cavalry commanders were little better:
● Lord Lucan, brave but none too quick on the uptake, commanded the cavalry division. This consisted of a Light Brigade, with lancer, hussar, and light dragoon regiments, and a Heavy Brigade, with dragoon and dragoon guard regiments.
● Lord Cardigan, that most dangerous of animals, the stupid man who thinks himself clever, commanded the Light Brigade. Cardigan shared a deep mutual antipathy with his divisional commander, Lucan.
● Brigadier General the Honourable James Scarlett commanded the Heavy Brigade, and he was refreshingly normal. Lacking practical experience, he was prepared to learn and in time produced excellent results.
The Battle of the Alma, 20 September 1854
On 13 September the Allies landed at the wryly named Calamita Bay on the west coast of the Crimea. They spent several days consolidating their position, then began marching south towards Sevastopol. On 19 September they reached the river Alma. On the high ground beyond the river the grey mass of the Russian army was drawn up, with General Prince Menshikov in command. Menshikov had constructed some earthworks, bristling with guns, that became known as the Great Redoubt, while a smaller earthwork, the Lesser Redoubt, covered another position. Field batteries punctuated the length of his line at intervals and skirmishers lined the bank of the river below. Some 37,000 men were available for the defence of the position. Considerately, Menshikov had built a viewing platform so that the ladies and gentlemen of Sevastopol society could watch the fun.
The battle took place the following day. The Allied plan was that on the right the guns of the fleet would support the French and Turkish attack and, once it had drawn off sufficient strength from the Russian centre, the British would deliver their assault on a two-division frontage. Raglan had 27,000 men available for this. The advance would be made with the 2nd Division on the right and the Light Division on the left, supported respectively by the 3rd and 1st Divisions. The Light Brigade would cover the open left flank. Problems arose during the initial deployment and early stages of the allied advance. The left-hand French division overlapped into the British 2nd Division’s area, causing the 2nd to overlap in turn into the Light Division’s area. The Light Division advancing obliquely to the right instead of straight ahead compounded the error, with the result that neighbouring regiments from both divisions became intermingled.
After some initial success, heavy fire pinned down the French and Turks. Raglan halted the British advance to await developments, instructing the men to lie down so that the fire of the Russian artillery passed over them. Ninety minutes later, at about 3 p.m., a hysterical French staff officer arrived. He gave a thoroughly overstated account of his countrymen’s losses and beseeched the British to commence their own attack. Raglan gave the necessary orders and the long scarlet ranks began approaching the river. The Alma itself varied widely in its depth, so that some men emerged almost dry shod on the far bank, while others had to wade chest deep, and some drowned in unsuspected potholes.
The British advance
The advance up the slope was in the teeth of the enemy’s artillery fire. The river crossing had aggravated the earlier deployment confusion, so that in places British officers vainly tried to separate their regiments. To make matters worse, Brigadier General George Buller, commanding the left-hand brigade of the Light Division, seems to have suffered a temporary brainstorm. The Light Brigade was already screening the left flank of the advance, but he ordered the 77th (2/The Middlesex Regiment) to wheel left and form a hard shoulder. If this may be considered odd, what came next stretches credulity to the limit, for he ordered his two remaining regiments to form square, as though cavalry was about to attack them. The fighting Irishmen of the 88th (1/The Connaught Rangers) did so with a very bad grace, but the 19th (1/The Green Howards) ignored the order, realising that it would simply make them a sitting target for the Russian guns, to which they were closest. Instead, they joined Brigadier General Sir William Codrington’s brigade, consisting of the 7th (1/Royal Fusiliers), the 33rd (1/The Duke of Wellington’s Regiment), and the 23rd (1/Royal Welch Fusiliers). In addition, thanks to the confusion caused by intermingling, a large part of the 95th (2/The Sherwood Foresters) had also attached themselves to the brigade.
On the right of the Light Division’s advance, a two-column battalion of the Kazan regiment counter-attacked the 7th. A murderous fire fight ensued in which the new Minie bullet proved its worth (see the sidebar ‘Very clever - They call it technology, you know!’), penetrating to the depth of two or even three ranks of the dense Russian formations.
Despite enduring crippling losses, the Russians stood their ground and began to take a steady toll of the Fusiliers. Raked by cannon and musket fire, Codrington’s brigade closed in remorselessly on the summit. As the Russian gunners strove to get their weapons away, the 23rd swarmed over the breastwork of the Great Redoubt. Half-eaten picnics, top hats, fans, and other impedimenta belonging to Sevastopol’s recently departed gentry littered the area. Codrington’s brigade allowed themselves to relax while inspecting this debris. Menshikov, a good soldier, knew very well that attacking troops were at their most vulnerable just after they have taken an objective, and he launched the Vladimir regiment in a counter-attack.
Codrington’s men rallied quickly and were shooting away the head of the Vladimir column when a strange incident took place. An apparently desperate staff officer galloped along the line shouting, ‘Don’t fire! For God’s sake don’t fire! The column’s French!’ This was nonsense, of course, but the strange officer then ordered a bugler of the 19th to sound the cease fire. Other buglers along the line took up the call and firing died away. The officer then ordered another bugler to sound retire, which was also taken up. The troops looked round, expecting to see the 1st Division coming up to support them, but the slopes were bare of all but their own casualties. At that moment, the Vladimir opened fire. The British lost the Great Redoubt as the Russians pressed their line sullenly down the slope, exchanging fire as they retreated.
The Guards and Highlanders advance
The reason for the 1st Division’s absence (see the preceding section) was that while its commander, the Duke of Cambridge, may have been a nice enough chap, he didn’t know what to do. His division contained the Guards and the Highland Brigades, regarded as the best in the army, but he had hesitated until sharply ordered to move off by General Richard Airey, Raglan’s principal staff officer. The division crossed the river with the Guards on the right and the Highlanders on the left. Within the Guards Brigade, commanded by Major General H.J.W. Bentinck, the Grenadier Guards were on the right, the Scots Fusilier Guards in the centre, and the Coldstream Guards on the left. While ranks were being dressed after the crossing, Bentinck received a call for urgent assistance from Codrington. Foolishly, he addressed his next order to the Scots Fusilier Guards alone: ‘Forward! Forward, Fusiliers! What are you waiting for?’ With equal foolishness, the young officers carrying the Colours set off up the slope at a cracking pace, so that the companies on either side began to trail back into an irregular arrowhead.
The Russians were swarming over the breastworks of the recaptured redoubt, pressing the thinning line of the 23rd back down the slope. The British Guardsmen had reached a point just short of the 23rd when the unknown staff officer (see the previous section for his first appearance) put in another appearance, shouting ‘Retire! Fusiliers, retire!’ Whether he meant the 23rd or the Scots Fusilier Guards remains unknown. The 23rd, having lost more men to the fire of the Vladimir, took it to mean them and withdrew through the ranks of the guardsmen, several of whom were bowled over. It was now the turn of the Scots to receive the Russians’ fire. Simultaneously, the regiment’s senior officers came to the conclusion that the retire order applied to them, too. The withdrawal was hurried and disorderly.
The Grenadiers and the Coldstream now commenced their advance up the slope. Once more the strange staff officer put in an appearance, shouting warnings to retire and avoid firing on ‘the French’. This time, no one paid him the slightest attention. His identity remains a mystery to this day, though the possibility exists that he was a Russian whose task was to cause confusion. The two Guards regiments wheeled inwards against both flanks of the Vladimir’s column and opened a tremendous fire at only 90 metres’ (100 yards’) range. The deadly Minie rounds sent the Russians tumbling by the dozen. The Scots Fusilier Guards, despite having lost 171 men killed or wounded, including 11 officers, completed their rally quickly. They came up to take their place in the centre of the brigade’s line and fired devastating volleys into the head of the enemy column. The Vladimir gave ground and slowly the Guards pushed them up the hill. When the Guards had advanced to within 35 metres (40 yards) of the Great Redoubt, they received the order to charge. The French heard their cheer a mile away. They bundled the Vladimir out of the position, although the Russians rallied and continued to fire.
The Highland Brigade, with Major General Sir Colin Campbell in command, forded the Alma upstream of the Guards. Campbell had first seen action as a boy during the Napoleonic Wars. He was a tough, no-nonsense soldier, still vigorous despite his 61 years, and inclined to directness of speech. In Campbell’s world, there were only two sorts of people: Scots, and those who were not Scots.
The Duke of Cambridge, having ridden ahead, came across Buller, whose 77th had actually found some Russian infantry to fight out on the left, while the 88th still stood in their square, muttering angrily. It was at that precise moment that Codrington’s brigade finally gave way, taking the Scots Fusilier Guards with them. With men dying all around and the apparent failure of the British assault, the inexperienced Duke plaintively asked Buller what he was to do. As tactfully as he could, Buller advised him to continue with his advance. Unconvinced, the Duke trotted over to Campbell, who had just appeared at the head of his brigade, and suggested that a disaster would occur unless the 1st Division was withdrawn. Campbell replied bluntly that a disaster would occur if it was. He then outlined his plan for the capture of the eastern shoulder of the Russian position and the Lesser Redoubt. Having agreed to this with considerable misgiving, the Duke, who was far from lacking in courage, joined the Guards Brigade in their assault and was actually one of the first into the Great Redoubt. Campbell echeloned (stepped back) his brigade from the right with the 42nd (1/The Black Watch) leading, then the 93rd (2/The Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders), then the 79th (1/The Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders). As his regiments passed, the 88th shouted sarcastic remarks at Buller for leaving them to wait idly by. Campbell told them to stop standing about and get into line alongside the 77th.
The Russians counter-attack
The Russians launched four battalions of the as-yet-uncommitted Sousdal regiment in a counter-attack against the advancing Highlanders’ flank. The reason for Campbell’s deployment immediately became clear. The first two Russian battalions, hoping to enfilade (fire into the flank of) the Black Watch, were themselves enfiladed by the 93rd. The next pair of battalions, accompanied by some cavalry, tried to enfilade the 93rd, but were themselves enfiladed by the 79th. Firing and advancing steadily, the Highlanders were driving the Sousdal before them when Raglan sent up two horse artillery battles to complete its defeat. Seriously alarmed, the Russian artillerymen in the Lesser Redoubt withdrew their weapons and galloped to the rear. As the long line of feathered Highland bonnets appeared above the crest, Prince Menshikov accepted defeat and sanctioned a general withdrawal. Incredibly, Campbell’s losses were just 15 killed and 83 wounded.
On the far side of the British sector, the 7th and the Kazan regiment were still firing into each other at close quarters when the 2nd Division worked its way past and the 55th (2/The Border Regiment) came up on the fusiliers’ right, then wheeled onto the flank of the Kazan and destroyed it with a series of volleys. Only 35 minutes had passed since the British attack began. Raglan’s losses amounted to 362 killed and 1621 wounded. French and Turkish losses probably came to fewer than 500 killed or wounded. Russian casualties included 1800 killed and an estimated 3700 wounded.
Sauntering on to Sevastopol
The allies spent two days clearing the battlefield and then resumed their march on Sevastopol. Menshikov had left a garrison in the fortress and retired into the Crimea’s interior with his field army.
The Battle of Balaklava, 25 October 1854
For a short period after the Alma (see the previous section), it would have been possible for the allies to occupy the north side of Sevastopol roadstead, rendering the city vulnerable to direct artillery fire and untenable in the long term. However, the allies felt that they would require supply ports in the immediate future and therefore crossed the Tchernaya river and marched round to the heavily fortified south side, establishing siege lines. Astutely, the French laid claim to the small harbours of Kamiesch and Kazatch. That left the British with the port and harbour of Balaklava, unsuitable as a military harbour and a 11-kilometre (7-mile) trek away. Inevitably, a large portion of the army would have to be employed as carrying parties at any one time.
The Russians were not fools, and indeed anyone with half a head could see that if the British did not hold Balaklava the Allies would be in desperate trouble. That is exactly what Prince Menshikov planned. The area in which he wanted his troops to attack consisted of a plain extending northeast from Kadikoi to the Fedioukine Hills, subdivided into north and south valleys by a shallow ridge named Causeway Heights. Six redoubts had been built along the ridge, manned by Tunisian troops from the Turkish contingent. At the western end of the ridge the camp of the British Cavalry Division provided a link between the siege lines and Balaklava, as well as a base from which patrols could operate along the Tchernaya river. The immediate defence of Balaklava was the responsibility of Major General Sir Colin Campbell’s Highland Brigade, but on 25 October the need to provide carrying parties had reduced this to a single regiment, the 93rd. In support was an artillery battery based at Kadikoi and a second battery manned by Royal Marines on the hills above Balaklava to the east of the track.
The thin red line
As dawn broke on 25 October, a cavalry patrol galloped back along the south valley. Its commander informed Lord Lucan that three Russian infantry divisions had crossed the Tchernaya. One was climbing the Fedioukine hills, another was approaching Causeway Heights, and the third was attacking one of the Turkish redoubts. As the patrol commander spoke, the sound of gunfire came from the far end of the ridge. Lucan immediately sent word to Lord Raglan, who ordered the 1st and 4th Division to leave their camps and march immediately to the Balaklava plain. The French, also aware of the problem, had already despatched two infantry brigades and two cavalry regiments to the edge of Sapoune Heights. It was as well that the allied commanders had not underestimated the seriousness of the situation, as the Russian force consisted of 22,000 infantry, 3400 cavalry, and 78 guns.
By 8 a.m. the Russians had driven the Tunisians out of the first four redoubts. Russian lancer and hussar regiments entered the North Valley, while their artillery batteries prepared for action on Causeway Heights. Suddenly, four squadrons detached themselves from the main body of the Russian cavalry and headed directly for Kadikoi. At that moment they could not see the 93rd, who were lying in a fold in the ground to protect themselves from the fire of the guns on Causeway Heights. When the Russians were 800 metres (900 yards) distant, Campbell ordered the 93rd to stand in line, instead of forming square as was the usual defence of infantry against cavalry. Campbell’s reasons were:
● He had every confidence in the new Enfield rifle and wished to maximise his firepower.
● He had a low opinion of the Russian soldiers’ ability.
Tradition immortalises the scarlet, feather-bonneted ranks of the 93rd as ‘the thin red line’, although the phrase that William Howard Russell, the correspondent of The Times who was watching the drama unfold from Sapoune Heights, actually used was ‘that thin red streak tipped with steel’. At 550 metres (600 yards) the 93rd fired their first volley. It emptied few saddles, but provided time to reload. They fired a second volley at 300 metres (350 yards). More men and horses went down. The Russians reined in. By now the Highlanders’ blood was up. There was murmuring and a stirring in the ranks. Campbell understood his people well. He knew that in another minute there would be no holding them. They would break into a berserk charge and go for the enemy with the bayonet. He brought them up sharply: Ninety-Third! Ninety-Third! Damn all that eagerness! His interjection had the desired result, but he did allow the regiment’s grenadier company to move out and fire a third volley at which the Russians turned and rode back over Causeway Heights.
All of this has tended to obscure the part played by the Royal Marine gunners in the battery on the hills behind the regiment, who claimed that it was their accurately fused shellfire that made the Russians turn tail.
The charge of the Heavy Brigade
The second act of the battle was about to begin. The Cavalry Division, formed up at the head of the north valley, could see nothing of what had just taken place (see the preceding section for that action). Lord Lucan, the divisional commander, received an outdated order to detach eight squadrons from the Heavy Brigade and send them in the direction of Balaklava ‘in support of the Turks’. As the Turks (Tunisians) had already left the field the order made little sense, but as the defence of Balaklava did make sense, Lucan complied. Under the leadership of Brigadier General the Honourable James Scarlett, commander of the Heavy Brigade, the 5th Dragoon Guards started off, with the Royal Scots Greys, the 6th Inniskilling Dragoons, and the 4th Dragoon Guards following. Unknown to the allies, the main mass of the Russian cavalry was already crossing Causeway Heights into the south valley.
The first warning to the Heavies was a long line of lance points breaking the crest to their left. The Russians, who outnumbered the allies by a very wide margin, crossed the summit and halted at a dry ditch. Scarlett wheeled his regiments to their left and dressed their ranks. The Russians, correct in the belief that Scarlett was about to charge, pushed forward their outer wings so as to envelop their opponents. Scarlett ordered the charge with 350 metres (400 yards) to go, uphill, and they started slowly, increasing their pace as they went. With a cheer they smashed five ranks deep into the Russian mass. The Russian greatcoats were too thick to penetrate with swords, so the majority of the British cuts were at their opponents’ heads. Against this, the Russian sabres were blunt and inflicted bruises rather than cuts, while the lancers found their unwieldy weapons useless in this type of close combat. Nevertheless, while the British had the best of it for the moment, the Russians heavily outnumbered them and the issue of who would win remained in doubt.
While the Russians’ attempt to envelop the Heavy Brigade may have seemed full of menace, it was to prove their undoing. Scarlett brought up an Inniskilling
Dragoon squadron, which smashed into the Russian left wing from behind. Simultaneously, the 4th Dragoon Guards and the Royal Dragoons, brought up by Lord Lucan at the gallop, tore into the opposite flank. The Russian mass heaved, shredding away to the rear, and finally turned to bolt back over the crest into the north valley. For good measure, the Royal Marine battery sent several shells into the packed ranks. After a brief pursuit, Scarlett sounded the recall.
The Russians sustained an estimated 200 casualties, mostly wounded, while the British loss was a mere fraction of this. Feeling justifiably pleased with themselves, the members of the Heavy Brigade rallied and returned to their position at the end of Causeway Heights. Shortly after, the entire Cavalry Division could see the Russian cavalry sorting themselves out behind a battery of guns at the far end of the north valley. The two sides had now set the scene for the third phase of the battle, which involved one of the most famous episodes in British military history.
The charge of the Light Brigade
Lord Raglan observed the entire battlefield laid out beneath him. At the far end of Causeway Heights he could see Russian horse teams hauling away the Allied guns from the captured redoubts. He was acutely conscious that the Duke of Wellington (see Chapter 11) had never lost a gun, so what he saw troubled him. He issued an order for the Cavalry Division to recapture the guns, little understanding that when viewed from a height the contours of a rolling landscape become flattened, and that because of this Lucan could not see what was perfectly obvious to anyone on Sapoune Heights.
The pencilled order that General Airey drafted still exists. It 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.
The order was vague in the extreme and to make matters worse the messenger Airey chose to carry it was Captain Lewis Nolan, hot-tempered and barely subordinate, who despised Lucan. Under pressure, Lucan’s brain worked slowly, but as the rising ground prevented him seeing what was going on at the far end of Causeway Heights, he did ask Nolan for clarification as to which guns Lord Raglan meant. Nolan insolently flung out his arm in the general direction of the Russians, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice: ‘There, my lord, is your enemy! There are your guns!’ The only guns visible were those at the far end of the north valley, and it was quite contrary to tactical usage for cavalry to charge a battery from the front. Lucan could have declined the order until he received definite and unequivocal orders from Raglan himself, but Nolan had unsettled his judgement and he took the captain’s words at face value. His brigade commanders, Lord Cardigan and Brigadier General Scarlett, accepted the order philosophically, but knew they were making a death ride.
Within the Light Brigade, the leading rank consisted of the 13th Light Dragoons on the right and the 17th Lancers on the left, the second rank of the 11th Hussars behind the Lancers, and the third rank of the 8th Hussars and the 4th Light Dragoons. When all was ready, Lucan’s trumpeter sounded the advance and the Cavalry Division (both Heavies and Lights) entered the North Valley at a fast walk that soon became a trot. It had a run of a mile and a half to make. Unable to believe their eyes, Russian artillerymen ahead and on both flanks loaded their guns and waited for the slaughter to start. Soon the Heavy Brigade, its mounts tired from their earlier exertions (see the preceding section for ‘The charge of the Heavy Brigade’), began to fall steadily behind.
What happened next reflected a horribly grim justice. Nolan had decided to ride with the 17th Lancers. He suddenly realised where the attack was heading and desperately tried to change its direction. He galloped ahead, shouting to Lord Cardigan and pointing to the right. At that moment the Light Brigade entered the killing zone. A shell burst near Nolan, sending a splinter of steel into his chest. He gave an unearthly shriek and then his mount carried him back through the ranks.
Artillery fire began to tear the Light Brigade apart. Its pace rose to a canter and soon to a flat-out gallop. Onlookers found themselves unable to take their eyes off the spectacle. ‘It is magnificent, but it is not war!’ one French general commented. For Lucan, riding between his two brigades, the dreadful trail of dead and maimed men and horses was too much. He sounded the halt. Scarlett brought his regiments to a standstill, then retired them out of range, but the Light Brigade did not hear the call. Their order was now ragged but, driven to insane rage by their losses, the Light Brigade tore through the battery at the end of the valley, spearing or cutting down the Russian gunners, and setting about the already discomfited Russian cavalry standing stationary beyond. Then, when no more could be done, they turned for home, having to fight their way past Cossacks who tried half-heartedly to cut them off. Very few would have got through if it had not been for a brilliant charge by the French 4th Chasseurs d’Afrique along the slopes of the Fedioukine hills.
Lord Cardigan, riding well ahead of the brigade, was first through the battery, and was the first survivor to reach his own lines. Undoubtedly courageous, he saw his duty as being to lead his men into their attack, and that he had done. An appalling snob, he did not see his task extending to hand-to-hand fighting, like a common trooper.
From start to finish, the charge of the Light Brigade had taken just 20 minutes. Of the 678 men who had taken part, 247 were killed, wounded, or were prisoners in Russian hands. In addition, some 500 horses had been killed or were so severely injured that they had to be put down. In practical terms, the Light Brigade had ceased to exist. The courage, discipline, and determination of its members was to pass into legend, but the fact remained that an enormous blunder had been committed. Lucan, as divisional commander, was at fault for not using his discretion and for failing to obtain confirmation of Raglan’s intentions. Airey must also take a share of the blame for his ambiguous drafting of the written order, as must Captain Nolan for the manner of its delivery. Cardigan returned home to a hero’s welcome.
Allied casualties at Balaklava amounted to 615 and those of the Russians to 627. As soon as the British infantry appeared, the Russians withdrew the way they had come.
The Battle of Inkerman, 5 November 1854
On the morning of 5 November the Russians made a second attempt to break the siege of Sevastopol (the first being Balaklava - see the previous section) with a joint attack by the fortress’s garrison and the Russian field army in the Crimea. Most of the fighting took place on Inkerman ridge at the head of Sevastopol harbour. A heavy autumn mist not only helped the Russians to surprise the British picquets, but also prevented them from seeing how few troops opposed them during the early stages of the battle, while for their part the British were unaware that overwhelming odds confronted them. The mist also prevented senior officers on both sides from exercising effective control, so that the fighting resolved itself into a prolonged series of brutal hand-to-hand conflicts, often led by junior officers and NCOs. For this reason, Inkerman became known as ‘the soldiers’ battle’.
As the mist began to clear, no fewer than 100 Russian guns were visible on Shell Hill, at the northern end of the plateau. These soon began to silence the British field batteries. However, the British hauled two long 18-pounder guns, each requiring teams of 150 men on the drag ropes, up from the siege park. These outranged the Russian batteries and soon began knocking guns and limbers (ready-use ammunition trailers) about, as well as blowing up an ammunition wagon.
A British and French counter-attack on Shell Hill, supported by the fire of 50 guns, commenced at about noon. At 1 p.m. the Russians began pulling back and within two hours the whole of Inkerman ridge was once more in Allied hands. The British had lost 635 killed and 1938 wounded, and the French 175 killed and 1568 wounded. Of the 35,000 Russians actually engaged in the fighting on Inkerman ridge, no fewer than one-third became casualties: 4400, including six generals, were killed, and 7559 were wounded.
Bungling Beyond Belief
The autumn gales played havoc with the British encampments and as the weather continued to deteriorate further the troops began to suffer severely. They were still wearing the uniforms in which they landed, which were hopelessly inadequate for a Crimean winter. Nor were their rations adequate and they had no fuel to cook the little food they did receive. The unending cycle of trench duty and carrying parties exhausted them. They lived in leaking tents, slept in damp blankets, and had nowhere to dry their clothes when they were wet. Sentries froze to death overnight in the depths of the winter. Other men died from cholera, dysentery, pneumonia, influenza, and exposure. For those who remained, the burdens were proportionately heavier. The medical services simply could not cope with the droves of men reporting sick. The field hospitals became places to die and the base hospital at Scutari, opposite Constantinople, was almost overwhelmed, until Miss Florence Nightingale and her nurses imposed order on it. The Cavalry Division’s remaining horses stood hock deep in frozen mud, gnawing hungrily at each other’s manes and tails, and finally died from starvation.
Yet none of this was necessary. Food, fuel, clothing, and fodder aplenty was present in Balaklava, just a few miles away. A ship reached there loaded with left boots and a lighter (barge) of brand new greatcoats was left uncovered so that they became soaked and rotted. Ships came in and discharged their cargoes onto the mountains of stores already on the quayside. The trouble was that the army’s purchasing, ordnance, supply, transport, and medical services were under the control of incompetent bureaucrats.
William Howard Russell in his despatches to The Times reported all of this faithfully, as did other journalists. The general public was furious. People may not have liked the company of soldiers at close quarters, but Mr Russell’s earlier reports had made it clear that they had fought like heroes and now the manner of their treatment was a national disgrace. Such was the uproar that it brought the government down. By the spring of 1855 the new government shipped thousands of pack animals from all over the world into the Crimea, ripped the bureaucratic tangle apart, sent navvies to improve the track, built huts to replace the tattered tents, and made a start on a railway. The burden on the troops eased, many returned from hospital, reinforcements arrived, and it became possible to concentrate on the capture of Sevastopol once more.
The Fall of Sevastopol, 8 September 1855
The key to ending the Crimean War was the fall of Sevastopol. The events leading up to this major event were as follows:
● 17 February: The Russian field army, under the command of Prince Mikhail Gorchakov, made a half-hearted attempt to break the siege of Sevastopol, but the Turks at Eupatoria repulsed them.
● 8-18 April: A major Allied bombardment of the defences took place, causing over 6000 Russian casualties. The Allies did not assault and under the expert direction of the Russian fortress engineer, Colonel Frants Todleben, physical damage was quickly repaired.
● May: A squadron of Royal Navy gunboats penetrated the Sea of Azov, severing sea communications between the Russian interior and the Crimea. As the Sevastopol garrison and the Russian field army received most of their supplies along this route, in the long term this was to have a decisive effect.
● 17-18 June: The Russians successfully repulsed Allied attacks on two major fortifications, the Malakoff and the Redan, with heavy casualties. Lord Raglan died 10 days later and General Sir James Simpson succeeded him.
● 16 August: Gorchakov made one final attempt to break the siege. Using two corps, he tried to smash his way through the French and Sardinian lines on Traktir ridge, above the Tchernaya river. After a battle lasting five hours, he withdrew, having sustained 3229 killed and over 5000 wounded, as opposed to the total allied loss of 1700.
● 8 September: The Allies renewed their assaults on the Malakoff and the Redan. The French took the Malakoff in a model operation, but the British assault failed with heavy loss. However, the loss of the Malakoff and its ability to command the interior of the Redan with gunfire meant Sevastopol was no longer defensible. That night the Russians blew up their remaining fortifications and retired across the harbour. The following day the Allies entered the city and set about destroying the Russian naval base.
Hostilities were still taking place in the Baltic and the Caucasus, but the fall of Sevastopol really ended the war. Under the terms of a peace treaty signed in February 1856, the Allies agreed to evacuate the Crimea and guaranteed Turkish security. Approximately a quarter of a million Russians and the same number of Allies died in the war, the majority from disease; the British also introduced the famous Victoria Cross as a result of this war (see the sidebar of the same name). But what about the monks whose unholy bout of fisticuffs started the whole thing off? Everyone had forgotten about them.
The Victoria Cross
On learning of the many deeds of gallantry and self-sacrifice that her seamen and soldiers performed during the Crimean War, Queen Victoria provided the encouragement for an award for acts of supreme courage. A Royal Warrant created the award, which took her name, on 29 January 1856, applying retrospectively to the Crimean War. Only members of the Royal Navy and the British Army who, in the presence of the enemy, had performed a signal act of valour or devotion to their country were eligible to receive the Victoria Cross. Only the merit of conspicuous bravery could establish a claim for the award, and in this context everyone was equally eligible.
The Victoria Cross was, and still is, made from the metal of cannon captured at Sevastopol. It takes the form of a simple Maltese Cross embossed with a crown surmounted by a lion and the legend 'FOR VALOUR'. In total, only 1356 Victoria Crosses have ever been awarded, of which 295 were posthumous. As its founder intended, its recipients come from every conceivable walk of life, making it the rarest and most democratic gallantry award in the world. Great care is exercised in selecting those considered eligible. Written statements are required from three witnesses to the deed. In circumstances where an entire unit has distinguished itself in a heroic manner, a number of Victoria Crosses in proportion to its size are awarded, the actual recipients being chosen by ballot among its members. The final decision always rests with the sovereign, who personally presents the award at an investiture.
The terms of the original Royal Warrant have been modified over the years. During the Indian Mutiny (see Chapter 14) the Victoria Cross was granted to civilians working under military command. In 1858 its provisions were extended to include 'circumstances of extreme danger', but reverted to 'in the presence of the enemy' in 1881. In 1867 colonial forces throughout the Empire became eligible. The one exception was the Indian Army, whose supreme award for valour remained for the time being the Indian Order of Merit, instituted by the Honourable East India Company in 1837. At first, no provision was made for posthumous awards, but this changed during the Second Boer War (see Chapter 16) and a number of awards were conferred retrospectively. In 1911 officers and men of the Indian Army became eligible, and in 1920 eligibility was further extended to the newly formed Royal Air Force, as well as matrons, nursing sisters, and nurses serving under military command. Initially, those awarded it could forfeit the award through disgraceful conduct. Only eight such forfeitures took place and King George V abandoned the forfeiture clause.