The Story of the British Army

by Charles Cooper King

Sebastopol was neither to be invested nor reduced. The siege was merely a means to an end, that of draining the resources of the adversary, and the cost of doing so, both in lives and in suffering, was great in the extreme.

The siege itself is too complex to deal with in detail. The place was bombarded on the 17th October, and the fleet co-operated. The first sortie was made on the 26th; by January 1854 there were 14,000 men in hospital, and there were scarcely any horses; there was a second sortie in March; on the 9th April there was a second bombardment, but nothing came of it; on the 6th June there was a third bombardment and an assault, and the Mamelon was taken; the fourth bombardment on the 17th June was also followed by an assault, the cemetery at the foot of the Green Hill being taken; a fifth and sixth bombardment was carried out on the 17th August, and from the 5th to the 7th September; and then the final assault was made, when the Malakoff Tower was taken, and the attack on the Redan failed. This terminated the siege. The Russians, after a prolonged defence, of which they are justly proud, sank their ships, blew up the forts on the south side, and retreated to the north side of the harbour, leaving the bloodstained ruined city and fortifications to the victors. They had nothing to reproach themselves with. But, meanwhile, an expedition to Kinburn had cut off one of the arsenals on which the Russian commander in Sebastopol depended, and the exhaustion of Russia (she had lost 240,000 men up to the late Czar’s death, and 80,000 since) was evident. Otherwise the Russian position was still admirable, and the war might have been prolonged indefinitely. But the fall of the southern forts led the way to armistice and then peace.

But while the siege was thus dragging on its weary length, the Russian field army and the garrison had not been passive. There had been three efforts to raise the siege, namely, those which led to the battle of Balaklava on the 25th October 1853, when the relieving force numbered 22,000 infantry, 3400 cavalry, and 78 guns, and advanced from the Tchernaya by Kamara, across the Woronzoff road; the battle of Inkerman, on the 5th November 1854, when the garrison made a sortie with 19,000 infantry and 38 guns, aided by Pauloff with 16,000 infantry and 96 guns from the Inkerman heights, while Gortschakoff threatened the upland from the Balaklava valley; and the battle of the Tchernaya, on the 16th August 1864, in which our new Sardinian allies shared, and which was fought by them and the French only, with a Turkish reserve, but which does not enter into the story of the British army, except as an incident in the campaign.

But the two former battles are remarkable and noteworthy instances of the courage and fearlessness—one may almost add skill-lessness—of our army. Never did men fight better. Never were greater mistakes made in all the annals of war. The Crimean campaign teaches one thing, if it teaches no other. Battles are won, sometimes if apparently lost, by sheer hard fighting. When Marengo was lost, it was very soon won. So in these cases. The army ought to have been beaten according to all the canons of war, but it wasn’t! Perhaps a time will come when the man who does the real work—that “very strong man,” Thomas Atkins—has his due meed. Crosses and decorations are given often enough to those who have never seen a shot fired, but poor “Thomas” goes away bravely in peace, as he fought bravely in war, with his medal, and even that for “distinguished service in the field,” to sweep a London crossing. Balaklava is a clear instance of mere brilliant animal courage, a bravery that the Russians recognise as fully as we do, and would reward better than we do, who have allowed many a gallant man who rode in the “death ride” to sink to workhouse pay. They speak with feeling and admiration of both the action of the cavalry and the Highlanders, and wonder why we have a clasp for Balaklava! A Russian officer, many years ago, asking what clasp was on the Crimean medal an officer was wearing (he was dining in a naval mess), and being told it was for Balaklava, started, and said, “Do you English give clasps for your defeats as well as your victories, for we claim Balaklava as a success?” “How so?” was the Englishman’s natural response. “You did not hold the field, nor did you raise the siege.” “True,” replied the Russian, “but we won the Woronzoff road, and, practically, you never contested with us the right to it afterwards, and contented yourself with acting defensively behind the earthworks of Balaklava and the Upland.”

There are two sides to every question, therefore; but one thing is evident, that the British position based on Balaklava was in front line as regards the interior of the Crimea, while that of the French at Kamiesch was not, and could not be, molested. A glance at the map shows this, and shows also how a little further forethought on the part of the British would have shown the staff the advisability of keeping on the left, as we had done, and agreed to do, at Alma, and basing ourselves on Kamiesch, rather than taking Balaklava as our base, in opposition for a time to the French, and wilfully accepting, or rather asking for, the most exposed position. It is always easy to be wise after the event, but a wise staff gauges the possibility of the event before it occurs. No one can ascribe to the staff in the Crimea the virtue of prescience in the faintest degree.

The battle of Balaklava, therefore, is peculiar. The only regiments in the Army List who carry that name “on their colours” are the 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards, the 1st, 2nd, and 6th Dragoons, the 4th, 8th, 11th, and 13th Hussars, and the 17th Lancers among the cavalry, and the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, the second battalion of which was the 93rd, who formed “the thin red line” to meet the Russian cavalry, which was looked upon, and rightly in the days of muzzle-loaders, as peculiarly gallant. But even these brave men might look back on the equal gallantry of the Fusiliers who at El Bodon did much the same thing.

But a battle must be “peculiar” when only one regiment of the line can claim a clasp for Balaklava. It only shows how purely defensive the action was. Against the Russian host of all arms, only the cavalry and one regiment of the line were exposed to fire. The artillery, of course, were engaged, but to enumerate all the actions they have been in would be to explain the meaning of their motto “Ubique.” The Russians from the Traktir Bridge advanced then straight on the poor forts situated on the Woronzoff Road, held by the Turks, and heading towards Kamiesch and Balaklava. Expanding into skirmishing order, says an eyewitness, they easily carried them, and the Turks fled into Balaklava village, to be blasphemed by some old soldier’s wife who hated running men. Her language, so it is said, was emphasised with a broomstick. The retreating Turks were pursued by cavalry; but, met by the guns of the Marine Artillery outside the castle and the “thin red line” of the 93rd, the Russians fell back. The base of operations, at least, was safe; but it could never have been carried by cavalry alone. British cavalry alone had prevented the advance of the Russian army elsewhere. The actual loss inflicted by this arm could not have been much, and they probably suffered more than they inflicted; but the moral force and value of cavalry was never more clearly shown.

There were two cavalry charges that made the battle noteworthy. There is nothing else, except the pluck of the Highlanders, that needs comment.

On the sound of the firing, the First and Fourth Divisions moved down towards Balaklava, and moving parallel with them were the Light and Heavy Brigades, separated by a wide interval, the latter leading on the south side of the road towards Balaklava, the other on the north side nearer the Tchernaya. The scene of the two charges is therefore divided by the road, which runs along a low ridge. Just as the Heavy Brigade, 900 sabres strong, marching in a very irregular column without scouts, was nearing Kadikoi, a huge column of Russian cavalry, estimated at 3000 men, suddenly appeared on their left crossing the ridge. Scarlett did not hesitate: forming up the first troops (some 300) as they arrived, he dashed with the Greys and Inniskillings full at the centre of the mass, which, irresolute, halted to receive the shock; and the 4th and 5th coming up successively and taking the unwieldy column in flank, the Russians gave way in complete disorder, and fled headlong back to the head of the valley. The charge had cost the Heavy Brigade comparatively few men.

Meanwhile, there had been an apparent intention on the part of the Russians to remove the guns captured in the Turkish redoubts. To prevent this, Lord Raglan sent his aide-de-camp, Captain Nolan, with directions to Lord Lucan to advance. Through misconception of his instructions, Captain Nolan, instead of indicating the intended objective, pointed to the heavy battery of guns a mile away, supported by masses of cavalry and infantry and other batteries on either flank. Lord Cardigan was to charge the whole of the Russian army. But there was as little hesitation with him as with Scarlett. Into the semicircle of fire the Light Brigade dashed on their “death ride.” They returned broken and in groups, having left 247 men killed and wounded, and with a mounted strength of but 195 men. The Heavy Brigade had moved in support, but was not employed; on the other side the Chasseurs d’Afrique gave timely aid by driving off the guns on the left of the advance. Nolan, the author of a misfortune the remembrance of which is still so glorious, was struck by a piece of shell in the breast, and though already lifeless, was carried through the ranks of the 13th before he fell from the saddle. Never was there recorded a more daring ride against dreadful odds, and all so practically useless. Well might the French officer looking down from the plateau on the battle panorama below, exclaim, “C’est magnifique, mais ce n’est pas la guerre.”