At the time of the Charge Berryman was Troop-Sergeant-Major in the 17th Lancers, well known as “the Duke of Cambridge’s Own” and “the Death or Glory Boys.” In the last mad leap at the guns, the mare he was riding was badly hit, and he dismounted, when he found that he too had been wounded in the leg. As he stood debating in his mind whether or not to shoot the mare, Captain Webb, on horseback, came up. He also had been struck in the leg, and to his query as to what he had better do, Berryman replied, “Keep to your horse, sir, and get back as far as you can.”
Webb thereupon turned and rode back, while the sergeant-major, catching a loose horse, attempted to follow suit. But his new steed had its breastplate driven into its chest, and hardly had he mounted ere it fell to the ground. Giving up the idea of rejoining his regiment in the mêlée, he was making his way back on foot when he caught sight of Captain Webb, who had halted a little distance off, the acute pain of his wound preventing him riding farther.
“Lieutenant George Smith, of my own regiment,” says Berryman in his account, “coming by, I got him to stand at the horse’s head whilst I lifted the captain off. Having accomplished this, I assisted Smith to mount Webb’s horse and ride for a stretcher, taking notice where we were. By this time the Russians had got back to their guns and reopened fire. I saw six men of my own regiment get together to recount to each other their escapes. Seeing their danger, I called to them to separate, but too late, for a shell dropped amongst them, and I don’t think one escaped alive.”
Hearing him call to the lancers, Captain Webb asked Berryman what he thought the Russians would do. Berryman answered that they were sure to pursue, unless the Heavy Brigade came to the rescue.
“Then you had better consult your own safety, and leave,” said the captain.
Berryman shook his head. “I shall not leave you now, sir,” he replied, adding that if they were made prisoners they would go together.
Just at this moment Sergeant Farrell hove in sight, and at Berryman’s call he came over. The retreat of the Light Brigade from the guns was already beginning, and the confusion and danger was augmented by the onslaught of the Russian lancers, who had now ridden down upon the devoted remnant.
“I GOT HIM TO STAND AT THE HORSE’S HEAD WHILST I LIFTED THE CAPTAIN OFF.”—[Page 22.]
The position of the wounded officer and his helpers was indeed precarious. Bullets and shells were flying by them, and at any moment a Cossack lance might have laid them low. But neither Berryman nor Farrell hesitated or thought of saving his own skin. Making a chair of their hands, they raised the captain from the ground and carried him in this way for some two hundred yards, until Webb’s leg again became very painful. A private of the 13th Dragoons, named Malone, was requisitioned to support the officer’s legs, and another start was made.