A Charming Cavalryman for Clementine_A Historical Romance Novel Based on True Events

by Hanna Hamilton

  Brian shrugged weakly. Clementine could see that she had already taxed him enough. Instinctively, the will to do her duty usurped the burning desire to know more about Stirling. She had waited so long already; there will be time to get more information later.

  “You’ll be heading back to England for Christmas shortly,” said Clementine moving on to something happier.

  Brian sighed with relief. “Yes, and you, will you be coming too?”

  “No, I’ve still got work to do here,” said Clementine with determination. “Come along let me take you to the cafeteria for some tea.”

  Brian nodded gratefully. “Yes, some tea would be nice.”

  After Clementine had left the captain in the midst of his fellow military men, she walked back to the operating theatre.

  “Clementine, a letter has arrived for you! It must be from Stirling!” yelled Sally running after her.

  Clementine’s hands flew to her mouth. It had been such a long time since she had any word from him. She knew that it was due to her passage from England. Finally, the mail had traced her to Constantinople.

  When she took the envelope from her friend, the first thing she did was to check the writing on the back of it. It was his – Stirling’s. She hopped about as she ripped open the seal with violent vigour.

  “Careful, you’ll destroy the letter inside,” chided Sally.

  Clementine did not answer. She started to read her beloved’s words that filled two pages of neatly scripted lettering.

  My dearest Clementine,

  It feels like an eternity since I last held you in my arms at the docks of Portsmouth. I can still feel your sweet embrace and the touch of your lips against mine. We had been engaged for merely a day and I had asked your father for your hand in marriage the day before after that magical afternoon by the Thames. Those are sweet memories that give me strength in these harsh times.

  It seems so long ago now after everything I have seen. I pray most days that I will be able to get a glimpse of your face to alleviate myself of the horrors of war. Just the sight of you would give me hope that this endless suffering and butchery will come to an end.

  I am sure you have seen some of it in your position as a nurse in the Scutari. Every day hundreds of men leave the battlefield on stretchers. Their cries of anguish fill my nights with the horror of their plight. I so hope that most of them make it to receive your tender and able ministrations. Thinking about you, I know that you will do everything it takes to save as many of them as you can. Your strength and loving nature is a tonic on its own. It is what I love about you, beloved Clementine.

  I do not have much time to write, for the officers are ordered to a briefing with the general staff. As I put these words to paper, I know that something big is in the offing. Some say that Lord Raglan plans a major offensive on the morrow. I hope so, anything to bring the retched war to an end.

  Royce and I have not seen much action since arriving in this accursed land. So far our duties have been reduced to scouting the lay of the land to chasing off the occasional Russian foe. It is something I feel in my bones will come to an end soon. The day of the Light Brigade will come and I beg for it. I know this will make you worry and I don’t want that, but if I can contribute in some way to the enemy’s defeat, I would gladly give my life.

  But do not despair, my love, for I will always be with you. No matter the distance that separates us, I have never left your side. It is this knowledge that gives me strength and it is with that I am certain I will survive the hard days to come.

  For ever your man in heart, body and soul, I affectionately remain yours dearest Clementine,

  Stirling

  Tears streamed down her face as she folded the letter and carefully placed it in her uniform. Next to her, Sally looked at her with a quizzical expression on her face. Clementine shook her head, indicating that all was well. The thought was short-lived when an orderly came rushing into the ward, racing past them shouting at the top of his lungs.

  “There has been another battle. The noble six hundred have charged into the valley of death.”

  Chapter 26

  A large Russian assault on the allied supply base to the southeast, at Balaclava was rebuffed in the early morning on the 25th of October. This action heralded the start of the battle of Balaclava. A large body of Russian cavalry had charged the 93rd Highlanders, who were posted north of the village of Kadikoi. Commanding them was Sir Colin Campbell.

  Rather than form a square, the traditional method of repelling cavalry, Campbell took the risky decision to have his Highlanders form a single line, two men deep. Campbell had seen the effectiveness of the new Minié rifles, with which his troops were armed, at the Battle of the Alma a month before, and was confident his men could beat back the Russians. His tactics succeeded.

  From up on the ridge to the west, the civilian spectators and general staff saw the Highlanders as a thin red streak of their red tunics topped with steel; this was a phrase that would soon become the term the “Thin Red Line”.

  Soon after, the Heavy Brigade charged and fought hand-to-hand until the Russians retreated. This brave action countered a Russian cavalry movement. It caused a more widespread Russian retreat, including a number of their artillery units. When the local commanders failed to take advantage of the retreat, Lord Raglan sent out orders to move up and attack some Russian guns located across the valley. Raglan could see these guns due to his position on the hill; however, when in the valley, this view was obstructed, leaving the wrong guns in sight.

  What Lord Raglan saw was the enemy attacking British artillery positions. Promptly the Russian soldiers started to remove the cannons from the redoubts and pull them back to their infantry lines.

  “My Lord, the enemy is taking our guns. We must send in the cavalry,” said Captain Louis Nolan of the fifteenth King’s Hussars.

  Lord Raglan peered down at his horse contingent that had not moved despite his previous order to advance. He sighed irritably.

  “My Lord, this is too much. They are dragging off the guns - our guns,” reminded Captain Nolan.

  “Yes, they are, aren’t they,” responded general Airey to his aide-de-camp.

  Lord Raglan ignored them as he conversed with another member of his staff. “You see, Sir George, they are on them; they are indeed.” He was indecisive as he looked to Airey. “I shall tell you, I need an aid, Airey. Something has to be done about this.”

  The Quarter-master-general bade one of the younger officers to approach. Once he was in position with pen and paper to hand, Lord Raglan began to dictate his order.

  “Lord Lucan, cavalry to advance on the French…” Lord Raglan chuckled. “It is all so confusing you know. I still mistake the French for our enemies and yet they are our allies.” He cleared his throat as he prepared his next words more carefully lest the French general, St Arnaud hear him. “Lord Lucan, cavalry to advance on the Russians and take advantage of any opportunity to recover the Heights. They will be supported by infantry, which have been ordered to advance on two fronts.”

  The orderly wrote quickly and handed the order to a horseman nearby.

  A short while later, down in the valley, Lord Lucan read the missive. “Infantry? I see no infantry.” The men around him looked about in search of the infantry, but to no avail. “We must wait,” concluded Lucan.

  Back up on the hill, Captain Nolan approached Lords Raglan and Airey who were both studying a map rather than watch the enemy stealing their guns.

  “Do you see the Russian army, My Lord? Do you? For a full fifty minutes Lord Lucan has stood and watched this – this is no way, My Lord – there sit the finest cavalry in the world. Men who will follow their officers to the ends of life, men who take it for granted that their officers know best. The mere sight of the brigade moving would be enough,” he shouted as he shook the telescope in his hand.

  “Good morning, sir,” said Raglan, completely put out by Nolan’s tone. He turned to Airey. “Send another orde
r to Lord Lucan and kindly take it down in your clearest handwriting.”

  “Of course, sir,” said Airey, ignoring a nervous Nolan hovering behind them.

  “The cavalry is to advance rapidly to the front - follow the enemy and try to prevent them carrying away the guns - Troop Horse Artillery may accompany - French cavalry is on your left – Immediate,” dictated Raglan.

  Airey signed the document. “Someone to take this to Lord Lucan,” he said, lifting up the piece of paper.

  “Allow me, My Lord,” said Nolan, snatching it form him.

  Watching him mount his horse and ride down the hill, Raglan turned to Airey. “That young man, Nolan. I don’t really like him. He rides too well, you know. He has no heart. It will be a sad day when men who know too well what they are doing lead Britain’s armies. It smacks of murder.”

  The other man grunted something incomprehensible.

  In the meantime, in the valley…

  “I am waiting, Sir,” said Lord Cardigan imperiously to Lord Lucan. He had been late that morning in his arrival from his yacht moored off the coast near the town of Balaclava.

  “You will wait until I have clear orders to tell you to do otherwise – I wait,” snapped Lord Lucan who was in charge of the cavalry in the British expeditionary force.

  Lord Cardigan scoffed in disgust. His gaze was arrogant as he stared ahead at the sweep of the valley. He was looking for Russians but he couldn’t see any of them. “Clear! Normally there are clear orders for cavalry to attack anything and everything.”

  “Damn it, Cardigan, I would attack; I am constrained.”

  “Hussar, hussar,” shouted Stirling enthusiastically. He sat on his horse next to Lord Cardigan as he peered up the incline of the ravine.

  The man riding the white charger towards the assembled cavalry was Captain Nolan. He galloped forward, diving down the hill by the straightest and quickest route. He came on at great speed, while he waved a piece of paper above his head and shouted, “The Russians, the Russians they’re taking the guns.” Reaching the commanding officers and their staff, he came to an abrupt halt leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

  “Orders from Lord Raglan, My Lord,” said Nolan handing the message to Lord Lucan.

  For a moment, one could only hear the neighing of the horses and the clinking of the equipment as Lord Lucan read the order far too carefully. When he’d finished, with a grunt, he handed the paper to Lord Cardigan who was next to him. He in turn cleared his throat and read in silence. It took Cardigan even longer than his superior.

  It was all taking far too long. “Will you execute Lord Raglan’s order, My Lord? I am waiting,” said Nolan too loudly.

  His insubordinate tone irritated Lord Lucan and for once his brother-in-law shared in his irritation. They both glowered at Nolan as if he was an irritating insect.

  “I’m still waiting, My Lord,” repeated Nolan, getting more and more agitated. “Lord Raglan orders the cavalry to advance rapidly to the front, to follow the enemy and try to prevent them from carrying away the guns,” shouted Nolan.

  Lucan arched his eyebrows and coughed. “Mm, Captain Nolan, is it?”

  Nolan nodded his head hopefully.

  “Such an order is ridiculous. If you look before you, you will see neither the enemy nor guns, Sir. The usefulness of such an order eludes me,” he said imperiously.

  “From where Lord Raglan sits, I can assure you, My Lord, that there are Russians over there and they are taking the guns, My Lord. You have been ordered to attack now!” shouted Nolan.

  “I see no Russians, Nolan. Where are the Russians?” shouted Cardigan coming to Lucan’s support.

  Lucan exchanged a look with Cardigan. “Yes, Nolan, where are the Russians? There is no one to attack,” screamed Lucan.

  “Yes, attack what, you insolent fool?” shouted Cardigan in support of his superior.

  “There is your enemy, Sir, there, there, there!” screamed Nolan stretching his arm down the valley.

  “He is right, My Lord,” chimed in Stirling, at last seeing the happenings further down the valley. “We must attack at once.”

  Finally, seeing a troop of Russians moving the guns in the distance, Lucan and Cardigan exchanged embarrassed looks. Stirling and Royce who had witnessed the entire spectacle felt sorry for Nolan who was considered a fine officer and a gentleman.

  “I suggest Lord Cardigan, you advance steadily. Keep your men close at hand and if the brigade is handled with control, there will not be a too greater loss of life,” said Lord Lucan finally.

  “Certainly, Sir. But allow me to point out to you that the Russians have guns in the valley and infantry on each flank. It is contrary to all practices of war for cavalry to charge artillery head on,” said Cardigan calmly.

  “You’re quite right, sir, but what choice do we have?” said Lucan agreeing.

  “Major Whit Whittaker, please give the order to mount up,” ordered Lord Cardigan.

  “Certainly, My Lord,” said Stirling with excitement trailing off his voice.

  He spun his horse around and cantered to the men stationed close by. He ordered the men who were sitting and standing about their horses to mount up. He acknowledged Rory briefly before riding off back to his position next to his general. He nodded at him when he reached his side.

  “The men are ready for your command, My Lord,” said Stirling. He gave his friend Royce a look that was returned with nervous trepidation.

  “Draw sabres,” shouted Cardigan.

  The sound of six hundred and seventy swords rasped as the weapons left their scabbards. With parade ground precision, the blades came to a rest against the men’s shoulders.

  “The brigade will advance, bugler!” shouted Cardigan from the front.

  The sound of the trumpet echoed down the valley. The brave men started to move as one. Their glinting sabres making them look like an impenetrable wall of steel. Royce and Stirling exchanged excited glances. This was the moment they had been waiting for. For the glory of the empire they would ride into the jaws of death. There were cannons to the front of them, cannons to the left and cannons to the right.

  Stirling thought of Clementine. Sitting on his horse that trotted forward on the dry and dusty plain and surrounded by his comrades, Stirling could see Clementine’s beautiful face clearly in front of him.

  He could remember every contour of her face with minute perfection. Stirling knew that he would do his duty for queen and country, but what he did, was also for her. He believed in fighting for a safer and more just world, a place where the woman he loved could live in harmony and with the rule of British law.

  He had written her a two-page letter the previous evening, telling her about the life he and Royce shared at the front. Despite not wanting to, he had been far too graphic in his narration. Stirling prayed that he had not frightened her all that much. It was bad enough being separated from her embrace, but having her worry about his wellbeing was not something he wanted.

  Stirling looked ahead. The enemy position was still relatively obscured from view. There was no way of telling how many of them there were or the disposition of the troops and their placement. The Light Brigade was riding blind into what could be great glory or a bloody and gory death.

  It did not take long for the first shell to burst in the air about one hundred yards in front of the advancing Light Brigade.

  “Noooo, nooo,” shouted Nolan galloping forward from the rear and riding in front of Lord Cardigan, Stirling, Royce and the remainder of the lead party.

  “The insolence of that man,” grunted Cardigan who was insulted by the captain’s impudence of charging ahead of him.

  The next artillery shell dropped right in front of Nolan's horse and exploded violently on touching the ground. Almost at once, with his arms extended, Nolan let off a high-pitched keening sound that emanated from the depth of his lungs. Not holding the reigns of his horse, Nolan trotted a few yards toward the advancing brigade and dropped dead off his horse. />
  It was too late; Nolan’s effort at warning Cardigan that the charge was aimed at the wrong valley had failed. Nobody except the front rank of horsemen had seen Nolan who had bravely forfeited his life in his attempt to save his comrades.

  “What was that all about?” shouted Stirling to Royce

  As ignorant as the rest of them, he shrugged his shoulders. “He was shouting no. But I know not why.”

  “Incoming,” shouted Stirling suddenly when he heard the violent whoosh of another shell approaching their position.

  There was a loud thud. The cavalryman riding next to Stirling was no longer there. The round shot had taken him. Stirling said a silent prayer. He asked God to let him survive. He wanted to be with Clementine. His life could not end here; there was still so much to do.