by V. A. Stuart
“Later, Phillip told me, there had been a very ugly scene between Lord Lucan and Edward Nolan, in which the latter accused Lucan of neglecting his duty by his failure to attack the enemy. Everyone in the division is bitterly angry, not least Lord Cardigan who missed the affair—as he is sick and aboard one of the ships in the harbour. But he accused Lucan openly, saying he had mishandled the division and he has told the officers of the 11th, to their faces, that they are a set of old women for not having ignored Lucan and charged in spite of him!
“Alas, the poor cavalry, that they must suffer such a commander! Will their chance to show their true worth never come? I find myself wondering whether I should not be wiser to remain where I am, with a commander I can wholeheartedly respect, than attempt to rejoin General Scarlett’s staff and thus, perforce, come under Lucan’s command. Like Edward Nolan, it is quite heartbreaking to me to be compelled to witness our Cavalry Division being used only for defense and never being permitted to attack . . . although it is said that Lord Raglan is responsible for these instructions to Lucan. But William Beatson urges me to return’ where I belong,’as he puts it, and my loyalty to him binds me strongly, for we have been through much together, he and I . . . .”
The next part of the letter was dated 14 October:
“Today,” Alex wrote, “Lord Raglan gave the command of Balaclava and responsibility for its defense to Sir Colin Campbell, although Lord Lucan retains independent command of the cavalry.
“I am to ride with Sir Colin and Captain Shadwell to the village of Kadikoi this morning, so that he may inspect the positions. His command is very inadequate, or so it seems to me. It comprises the 93rd Highlanders, numbering under seven hundred men, a hundred or so invalids and convalescents newly returned from hospital in Scutari, Barker’s troop of Horse Artillery, two battalions of marines with artillery, and about fourteen hundred Turco-Tunisian auxiliaries, of whom I have heard little that is good. This force is disposed in a semicircle north and east of Kadikoi, and redoubts, with naval guns, have been constructed to command the Woronzoff Road. Not all the defense work is yet completed and Sir Colin is anxious to have it speeded up, lest there should be a sudden attack.
“Shadwell and I are going with him on his tour of inspection and no doubt, after this I shall be better able to assess the strength of our defenses . . . .”
Alex was compelled to cut short his letter in midsentence, for Sir Colin Campbell was impatient to begin his tour, after which—while he now had a clear picture of the position, he no longer had the heart to enlarge on the defensive strength it possessed in his letter to Emmy. Defensive weakness, he thought wryly, would have been a more apt description . . . .
The Woronzoff Road ran south-east out of Sebastopol and, crossing the Plain of Balaclava, it followed a narrow ridge of high ground, known as the Causeway Heights, finally dropping down to the Tchernaya River, which it crossed by a bridge below the village of Tchorgoun.
The Plain was some three miles long and two wide, enclosed on all sides by hills, and it was divided into two by the ridge which carried the road, the Causeway Heights. Two valleys ran on either side of the Causeway. The North was shut in on one side by the Causeway itself, on the other by an irregular range called the Fedioukine Hills. The South Valley, along which ran the three-mile-long track—for it was little more—from Balaclava to its junction with the Woronzoff Road, was also contained by hills. In this, at the head of a gorge a mile above the harbour, was Kadikoi, where the 93rd Highlanders were encamped, with the Cavalry Division camp to their front.
Strategically it was vital for the British army to retain possession of the Causeway Heights. Sir Colin Campbell at once realized this and, with the limited means at his disposal, he concentrated on its defense, for it was the key to Balaclava and to the army’s line of communication with the harbour and the ships. To lose the Causeway Heights would be to lose the only good road to the infantry divisions’ camps and the siege-works overlooking Sebastopol, which must be kept supplied with ammunition . . . whatever else they went without. The alternative to the Woronzoff Road was a number of rough mountain tracks, unworthy to be called roads, up which supplies could only be hauled with extreme difficulty.
Of the six redoubts in the course of construction, No. 1 was not on the Causeway Heights at all but on a hillock, known as Canrobert’s Hill, to the east. This was the strongest, with good entrenchments and earthworks, and its three naval twelve-pounder guns were manned by a battalion of the Tunisian auxiliaries. Of the remaining five, all positioned on the Causeway Heights and beside the Woronzoff Road, No. 4 occupied the best position, being immediately below a plateau on which General Bosquet was posted, with two French divisions, forming a corps d’observation, with which he could dominate both the road and part of the Plain below. Nos. 2 and 3 were about half a mile apart and 5 to 6 separated by nearly a mile, each containing one naval gun. In every redoubt, Sir Colin Campbell posted British artillery N.C.O.s to direct the Tunisians’ fire. “And,” as he remarked dryly to Alex, “also it is to be hoped, to steady them!”
He was reluctant to use the Tunisians for so vital a task as the guarding of the Causeway Heights, for he mistrusted them, but was left with little choice. Captain Barker’s guns, and the Royal Marines with their artillery, were posted on high ground to the rear of the 93rd, covering the gorge. With the battalion of convalescents, they formed the last line of defense but Sir Colin Campbell, aware that they were very ably commanded, had the highest confidence in their ability to hold Balaclava Harbour . . . and even if the Tunisians failed to repel an enemy attack, they could at least give warning of one. This, he knew, would come from the east, from the Tchernaya valley or over the Fedioukines, but so long as the Tunisians held their redoubts and kept a vigilant lookout, there was no danger of his being taken by surprise.
On 16 October, Alex—who had been working night and day on the defenses of Balaclava—received orders to report to General Scarlett, delivered in person by William Beatson. He bade farewell to Sir Colin with regret but, as he and Colonel Beatson rode into the cavalry camp at the foot of the Heights in the South Valley, he felt his heart lift, and Scarlett’s greeting of him was so flatteringly warm that his last regret vanished. To Emmy, he wrote that night:
“I am back ‘where I belong’ at last, Emmy my love . . . with the cavalry and William Beatson. I have not yet seen Phillip but intend to seek him out as soon as I can. The only news is that Lord Cardigan now has his private yacht, the Dryad, anchored in Balaclava Harbour—with a French chef and a civilian friend, Mr Hubert de Burgh, to minister to his comfort. He had obtained Lord Raglan’s permission to sleep aboard and his brigade does not see him until after he has enjoyed a late breakfast, we are told.
“Edward Nolan waxes bitterly cynical on the subject of ‘Lord Look-on’ and ‘The Noble Yachtsman’ and William Beatson tells me that they are called ‘the cautious ass’—Lucan—and ‘the dangerous ass’—Cardigan. But, thank heaven, General Scarlett is liked and trusted by all.”
The following morning the bombardment of Sebastopol was started by the Allied siege-guns, supported by a naval bombardment of the sea forts. This was to be, at long last, the prelude to an assault on the town . . . or so it was rumored. The naval bombardment did not, however, achieve the success that was hoped for it, although it went on for more than three hours. A heavy loss of life, together with a heavy toll of ships, caused Admiral Dundas to give the signal to the British fleet to haul off soon after 5:30 that evening. The French fleet did no better—wooden ships had been pitted against stone forts and the damage done to the latter was almost negligible, despite the fire-power of the combined fleets.
The Allied land batteries, by comparison, did well although they too suffered severe casualties. But the bombardment was ceaseless and it smashed the defenses of Sebastopol one by one. The garrison now considered an attack virtually certain but, despite Lord Raglan’s urging, the French held back. Their batteries on Mont Rodolphe, being nearer t
han the British to the Russian counter-fire, had sustained many more casualties and made much less impression on the opposing enemy position in the Flagstaff Bastion. A French magazine and an ammunition dump had received direct hits and exploded and General Canrobert insisted on a further 24-hour delay.
Next day, the British land-based guns kept up the bombardment alone; the French were silent and, during the hours of darkness, both sides worked frantically to repair the damage to their defenses. The following morning, the French guns were firing again and both sides continued the bombardment from dawn to dusk. But no orders were issued for the long-awaited assault and, as quickly as they were destroyed, the Russians rebuilt their earthworks and they also brought in more troops and more guns. It was now they, and not the Allies, who made plans to attack . . . .
On 21 October a false report from a Turkish spy caused preparations to be made to meet a Russian attack. The 4th Division, under Sir George Cathcart, was brought down from its position on the heights overlooking Sebastopol, and the Cavalry Division stood-to throughout the night . . . but to no avail. The Russians did not attack. To Sir George Cathcart’s fury, his division was in a state of extreme exhaustion when, after an arduous march up steep slopes, it regained its camp, and the cavalry endured a miserably cold night, losing an officer of the 17th Lancers from exposure.
In consequence, when a second and very similar report reached Lord Raglan on the evening of 24th, it was taken seriously by no one except Sir Colin Campbell and the Turkish commander, Rustem Pasha, from one of whose spies it had originated. This report stated that a force of twenty thousand Russian infantry, with artillery and five thousand cavalry in support, under General Liprandi, was about to launch an attack on Balaclava. Lord Raglan, remembering the previous false alarm, having read it, made no acknowledgement of his message to the anxiously waiting Sir Colin . . . and he issued no orders, beyond the request that he should be informed if “anything new came in.”
Sir Colin, on his own initiative, informed Lord Lucan of the report, doubled his pickets, ordered the 93rd to sleep in line, armed and with their greatcoats on, and kept the Tunisians at their guns throughout the night. It was all he could do, and when Lucan’s request for more Horse Artillery was refused by Lord Raglan, he released Barker’s troop from his own command.
The morning of 25th October—the anniversary of Agin-court—dawned obscurely. The mists of the Crimean autumn hung over the heights and uplands and rested over the beleaguered city of Sebastopol like a pall. Under its cover, Cossack vedettes from the Tchernaya valley reconnoitered the positions of Lord Lucan, General Bosquet and finally that of Sir Colin Campbell. They reported an “ostentatious weakness” in the latter and also the fact that the high ground at Kamara, which overlooked Canrobert’s Hill, was destitute both of guns and pickets.
Prince Menschikoff ordered General Liprandi to attack the British flank and rear, in an attempt to capture Balaclava and destroy its ships and stores.
The battle of Balaclava started at half past six that morning, with an attack on the Turkish redoubt on Canrobert’s Hill.
CHAPTER NINE
THE CAVALRY DIVISION turned out, as usual, an hour before daybreak, in accordance with Lord Lucan’s practice of inspecting them at this hour. Alex, attending General Scarlett, joined the small cavalcade which followed the divisional commander on his early morning tour of inspection.
It was still dark and cold and the mist swirled and eddied about them as they left the Heavy Brigade lines and trotted on to the Light Brigade camp, where Lord George Paget was waiting for them. Lord Cardigan, on the plea of an attack of dysentery, slept late on board his yacht and, in his absence, command of the Light Brigade devolved on Lord George, who had his men” standing at their horses.” The inspection over, they started to lead their animals out to water, grumbling a little in low voices, for this early morning stand-to was unpopular with the entire division.
It was just like any other morning since he had rejoined General Scarlett’s staff, and Alex had no sense of impending disaster as the cavalcade approached the most easterly of the Turkish redoubts on Canrobert’s Hill. But, as they did so, the first grey light of dawn brightened the misty eastern sky and, with a sudden quickening of his pulses, he saw that something unusual was afoot. Two flags, instead of the single crescent and star, flew from the flagstaff behind the redoubt and, aware of what this signified, he was about to draw attention to it when Lord George Paget also observed the strange signal. Reining in his horse, he gestured in the direction of the flagstaff and said, in a puzzled voice, “Hullo—there are two flags flying, are there not? What does that mean?”
One of Lord Lucan’s aides replied, “Surely, my lord, it means that the enemy is approaching?”
“Are you sure—” Lord George began, only to break off as his question was dramatically answered when a gun in the redoubt opened fire. It was met with a thunderous cannonade from the high ground to the right and a round shot came hurtling down toward the little group, scattering some of the staff officers and passing between the legs of Lord George Paget’s horse.
Lord Lucan took in the situation and started to issue orders. An aide was sent galloping back to warn Sir Colin Campbell, and a second despatched to Lord Raglan’s farmhouse headquarters, six miles away, urgently requesting infantry support. As the mist cleared, a very large body of Russian infantry could be seen, advancing in two columns south of the Woronzoff Road. They were preceded by skirmishers, with cavalry on both flanks, escorting their guns.
Lucan conferred with his two brigade commanders and Alex, waiting expectantly, saw General Scarlett motion to him. As he drew level, he heard Lucan say, above the now continuous roar of gunfire, his tone resentful and bitter,” Since Lord Raglan failed to act upon the communication sent to him yesterday by Sir Colin Campbell and myself, and since he has left us here altogether without support, I consider it our first duty to defend the approach to the town of Balaclava. The Turks will have to do the best they can—we are in no position to help them. The defense of the harbour will, of course, depend chiefly on my cavalry, so that I shall be compelled to reserve them for that purpose.” When Scarlett muttered a protest, he shrugged. “I will see whether I can accomplish anything by a feint—we may, at least, delay them. Lord George, I am placing the Light Brigade in reserve. General Scarlett, you will mount your brigade, if you please, at once. I shall require one regiment to escort two troops of the Horse Artillery—Maude’s and Barker’s—as soon as you can get them mounted.”
General Scarlett met Alex’s inquiring glance with a brief nod and, saluting Lord Lucan, he set spurs to his horse. Alex, his fellow A.D.C., Lieutenant Elliott, the brigade trumpeter Thomas Monks and Scarlett’s tall orderly, Trooper Shegog, fell in behind him. As they galloped back toward the Heavy Brigade camp, the general glanced from one to the other of his aides and said, a wry smile curving his lips beneath the windblown white moustache, “You heard what his lordship said, Alex, I’ve no doubt.”
“Yes, sir, I did.” Alex drew level with his commander.
“I am not one to question the orders I receive from my superior officers,” Scarlett observed, his voice ominously level. “But if the cavalry is to defend Balaclava, then I do not understand how it can possibly do so if kept in reserve. And do you, from your previous experience of them, Alex, imagine that the Russians—in their present strength—will be delayed by feints and can- nonading by one of our regiments and two troops of Horse Artillery?”
“Since you ask my opinion, sir . . .” Alex’s smile was also wry, “I do not expect them to be.” At his back, Elliott’s raised brows signified his bewilderment, but he said nothing. He, too, was an Indian army veteran, who had served throughout the Gwalior Campaign and at Ferozeshah with the Bengal Light Cavalry.
“Frankly, no more do I,” General Scarlett stated grimly. He turned in his saddle. “When we reach our lines, I shall order out the Scots Greys to escort the artillery. And I shall want Colonel Beatson at my side
throughout the day, so find him, will you please, Alex, and ask him to attend me? I had entrusted him with a mission, of a confidential nature, to Sir Colin Campbell at Kadikoi. Ride after him and both of you join us as soon as you are able.”
Alex saluted and set off in the direction of Kadikoi. He recognized William Beatson riding towards him when he had covered about half the distance to the village and hailed him with relief. The colonel reined in. “I heard the firing,” he said, “and I was with Sir Colin when Lord Lucan’s aide arrived with news of the attack. Where is General Scarlett?”
Alex told him and saw his heavy brows meet in a frown.
“They’re attacking the redoubt on Canrobert’s Hill, you say? That may well mean disaster, unless the Turks hold. You’ve been with them, Alex—do you suppose they will?”
Kneeing his horse to a canter, in order to keep pace with his companion, Alex sighed. “They are Tunisian auxiliaries, unaccustomed to war and, I should judge, badly officered, sir. They are not likely to hold for long if they are not supported. The odds against them are overwhelming . . . from the sound of the firing and the little I was able to glimpse through the mist, I should imagine that at least eighteen or twenty guns are ranged against their three. And there are perhaps two divisions of infantry, with strong cavalry support—both Cossacks and Lancers.”
Beatson’s frown deepened. “Are the Tunisians to be abandoned, then? If they’re not supported, we could lose the Causeway Heights!”
Alex repeated Lord Lucan’s words, his voice expressionless.
“Lucan has asked for the 1st and 4th Divisions to be brought down—he despatched an urgent request to Lord Raglan whilst I was there. But inevitably there must be a considerable delay before either division is able to make the descent from the plateau.” He hesitated. “How is Sir Colin faring, sir?”