THE CRIMEAN WAR // THE IMMORTAL CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE

"He wasn't a very great general,
but he was a very good man"

                    Florence Nightingale writing about Lord Raglan, British C-in-C

THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE

"Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!" -- Shakespeare.    

1.  

CRIMEA MEDAL NAMED TO: 842, Pte. W. Kirk. 17th. Lancers. THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.

Three clasps: Alma, Balaklava, Sebastopol.

Condition: GVF.

Pte. W. Kirk took part in the famed charge of the LIGHT BRIGADE in the Crimean War. This is a rare medal to a Lancer. Lancer Pte. Kirk is confirmed as a Charger and wounded and taken prisoner in the Charge 25.10.1854. Pte. Kirk is said to have died in hospital at Simpheropol in November 1854, believed poisoned because of violence against two Russians soldiers who spat on him.

Pte. Kirk appears on the Crimea Casualty Roll and from "Honor the Light Brigade" by Lummis and Wynn which also confirm him as a Charger.

From left to right: 17th Lancers, 1st Life Guards, 2nd Dragoons

Cornet Wilkin of the 11th Hussars, one of the five units which made up the Light Brigade

This hand coloured engraving from a portrait of Cornet Wombwell illustrates the uniform worn by officers of the 17th at the time of the Charge of the Light Brigade in 1854. It is very similar to the uniform shown in the 1845 portrait, but in 1853 officers were ordered to remove the gold embroidery from their collars and cuffs. The height of the collar was also reduced. The same order stipulated that the size of the czapka be reduced as well. These changes must have been very welcome at the time as campaigning in stiff high, heavily embroidered collars and heavy head-gear would have made things even worse than they were. His charger behind him shows the bridle with the motto on the cross straps, and a glimpse of the shabracque.
He looks the part of a proud victor with his foot on a Russian cannon. It is likely that this was painted in England on his return from the Crimea, and the debris of battle has been reconstructed, including the basket-weave trench re-enforcements on his left.
Sir George Orby Wombwell was 22 at the time of the Charge. He had joined the 17th in 1852 and was appointed ADC to Lord Cardigan for the campaign. When he reached the guns, his horse was killed under him. He mounted another, which, however was wounded and he was shortly after pulled off and taken prisoner, his sword and pistols being taken from him by some Russian Lancers. He managed to escape, catch another loose horse and ride, hell for leather back to the British lines, hotly pursued by Russians. In 1855, he succeeded his father to become Lord Wombwell of Wombwell, Yorkshire. His uniform still exists and can be seen at the regimental museum at Belvior Castle, Grantham.

The reasoning behind the move was in imitation of the Polish Lancers who had fought so well alongside Napoleon. It was the Duke of York, the Commander-in-Chief, who first proposed the idea in 1816. The first unit to be converted to Lancers was the 9th Light Dragoons, but this was deemed to have been sufficiently successful that another five regiments were chosen for conversion, the l7th Light Dragoons was one of those five. The Polish connection is not hard to miss: the uniforms, lances and pennants can all be traced in style to the Polish regiments that inspired them. Perhaps the biggest surprise was that the regiments were forced to abandon their carbines in order to make room for the Lances. It would be another sixty years before they realised that the Carbines really were intrinsically important to the effectiveness of Light Cavalry. It could be said that the graduation of the unit from Light Dragoons to Lancers was actually a step back in to time rather than a practical military advance in technology. It would take the Crimean war to demonstrate just how much more innovation was needed to make the British forces into an effective fighting force.

This portrait of an officer of the 17th clearly shows the full dress uniform worn from 1840 to 1855. Three years after Queen Victoria came to the throne the red jackets imposed on certain regiments of the British Army by William IV were changed back to blue (with the exception of the 16th Lancers who kept theirs). The facings of the 17th were still white, but were not as obvious as in the 1820s when their jackets displayed a white plastron on the front. The collar was covered in gold lace except for a few inches round the back. This collar was three inches high and fasted with hooks and eyes. Underneath it would have been a stiff black stock: all in all a very uncomfortable experience, but designed to make the wearer appear more dignified. All the lace is gold, including the epaulettes which by this time had become quite large. They are very stiff items; the fringes do not move, they are stuck or sewn to a piece of curved leather. The pouch belt is on his left shoulder and it looks like he has another one over his right shoulder but this is a formalised bunching of the caplines which used to be wound around the body according to the whim of the Colonel at the time.

17th Lancers 'Charge of The Light'

St Mary's Barnard Castle and Whorlton

Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
"Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!"
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.

Copied from Poems of Alfred Tennyson,
J. E. Tilton and Company, Boston, 1870

      I have been requested to help in 'keeping green' the memory of the services of the distinguished Devonian, whose brilliant career, cut short in 1858, is commemorated by the handsome obelisk, subscribed for by the County, and erected in 1860 in his native parish of Hatherleigh on the most commanding site of its historic Moor.
    It gives me great pleasure to comply with the request, for although Colonel Morris was not living when I came to reside in this neighbourhood, I knew him well when we soldiered together at Newbridge in Ireland in 1850-51; and I am glad of an opportunity of testifying to the esteem with which I regarded him.
   The modesty of his character, combined with the prestige of his services in India made a lasting impression upon my mind, and it was a source of great satisfaction to me that my younger brother was then serving with him in the 17th Lancers. Indeed, they were together for more than four years, until the 25 October 1854, when, at Balaklava, my brother was killed, and Morris, who commanded the 17th on that day, was himself very seriously wounded.
       William Morris was born at Fishleigh, in the Parish of Hatherleigh, on December the 18th, 1820. He was the eldest son of William Cholmeley    Morris Esq., of Fishleigh and Inwardleigh (who matriculated Queens College, Oxford in 1812), by Jane, second daughter of James, fourth son of William Mallet Esq., of Ash, in the Parish of Iddesleigh. This James took the name of Veale on inheriting the Passaford property in Hatherleigh from his uncle James, brother of his wife Jane Veale.
        William Morris, our hero, was educated at home by his father, and matriculated at St. James College, Cambridge in 1839. 
        I believe there are still living in Hatherleigh and this neighbourhood some who remember him riding well to hounds as a small boy on his pony, and there is a tradition that he was one day discovered by his father astride of the weathercock on the steeple of Hatherleigh Church.    
        The following letter, which he wrote to one of his sisters, is characteristic of his reckless pluck and of his delight in sport, tempered, as will be seen, by a love of flowers:-

17th Light Dragoons (Lancers)

Victoria Crosses awarded to the regiments at Balaclava:
Royal Scots Greys: 2
6th Inniskilling Dragoons: 1
4th Light Dragoons: 1
11th Hussars: 1
13th Light Dragoons: 1
17th Lancers: 3

THE CHARGE!

After the charge of the Light Brigade, the Roll is shown being carried out.

General Airey's A.D.C., Captain Lewis Edward Nolan, was a remarkable young man. His Irish father was in the British Consular service, his mother was Italian. He was extremely intelligent, goodlooking and excitable. He had written books on cavalry tactics and was considered by his fellow-officers as something of a prig. 'He writes books,' Lord George Paget said with some distaste, 'and was a great man in his own estimation and had already been talking very loud against the cavalry.' His contempt for both Lucan and Cardigan, but particularly Lucan, was violently and frequently expressed. He was, however, a superbly skilful horseman and it was because of this that Lord Raglan had chosen him rather than a more respectful officer to take the order to Lord Lucan six hundred feet below. A.D.C.s with previous orders had taken their horses carefully down, picking their way cautiously. Nolan went diving down the hill by the straightest and quickest route.

He galloped up to Lord Lucan and handed him the order. Lucan read it slowly with that infuriating care which drove more patient men than Nolan to scarcely controllable irritation. He read it, in fact, as he himself later confessed, 'with much consideration -- perhaps consternation would be the better word -- at once seeing its impracticability for any useful purpose whatever'. He urged 'the uselessness of such an attack and the danger attending it'.

'Lord Raglan's orders are,' Captain Nolan said, already mad with anger, 'that the cavalry should attack immediately.'
'Attack, sir! Attack what? What guns, sir? Where and what to do?'
'There, my Lord!' Nolan flung out his arm in a gesture more of rage than of indication. 'There is your enemy! There are your guns!' And leaving Lord Lucan as muddled as before, he trotted away to ask Captain Morris if he might charge with the 17th Lancers.

Standing in the center of the Causeway height looking down its length toward Sapun Gor ridge. The Light Brigade charged down the north valley and passed through the Russian artillery line.

The trouble was that Lord Lucan had no idea what he was intended to do. He could not, on the plain, see nearly as far as Lord Raglan could on the hills above him. He could not see any redoubts. And he could not see any guns being carried away. Since the battle had begun he had taken no steps to find out what was happening beyond the mounds and hillocks and ridges which cut off his view of the ground that had fallen into the hands of the enemy. The only guns in sight were at the far end of the North Valley, where a mass of Russian cavalry was also stationed. Those must presumably be the ones Lord Raglan meant. Certainly Nolan's impertinent and flamboyant gesture had seemed to point at them. His mind now made up, Lord Lucan trotted over to Cardigan and passed on the Commander-in-Chief's order. Coldly polite, Lord Cardigan dropped his sword in salute.

Certainly, Sir,' he said in his loud but husky voice. 'But allow me to point out to you that the Russians have a battery in the valley in our front, and batteries and riflemen on each flank.'
I know it," replied Lucan. 'But Lord Raglan will have it. We have no choice but to obey.

Cardigan saluted again, turned his horse, murmuring loudly to himself as he did so, 'Well, here goes the last of the Brudenells!', and he rode up to Lord George Paget. On the way he passed some men of the 8th Hussars who were smoking pipes. Their colonel angrily told them to put them out as they were 'disgracing his regiment by smoking in the presence of the enemy'. Paget himself was smoking a 'remarkably good' cigar and was embarrassed by Colonel Shewell's comment and then annoyed with Cardigan, who, after telling him to take command of the second line, added, 'and I expect your best support -- mind, your best support', repeating the last sentence 'more than once'.

'Of course, my Lord. You shall have my best support,' Paget replied, obviously nettled. He decided to keep his cigar.

Cardigan galloped back to the front of the brigade and drew it up in two lines. The 13th Light Dragoons were placed on the right of the front line, the 17th Lancers in the centre, the 11th Hussars on the left but slightly behind the regiments to the right of them. The 4th Light Dragoons and the 8th Hussars formed the second line. At the last moment Lucan, without consulting Cardigan, told Colonel Douglas to withdraw the 11th Hussars, Cardigan's regiment, from the first line and to take up a position in support of it.

Cardigan himself rode forward to sit for a moment quite still and bolt upright in his saddle well in front not only of the first line but also of his staff. The spectators on the hills above excitedly leaned forward to watch what Camille Rousset afterwards referred to with cruel aptness as 'ce terrible et sanglant steeple-chase". They could see quite clearly the two white legs of Cardigan's chestnut charger.

They had, indeed, a magnificent view. They were on the Sapouné Ridge, which at this point overlooks the valley from its eastern end and falls down to the plain in a succession of grass-covered steps. On these steps those with no duties to perform sat in comfort and safety to watch the battle. Below them stretched the long and narrow North Valley; on their right the Causeway Heights; on their left the Fedioukine Hills. In front of them at the end of the valley, and facing the Light Brigade immediately below them, were the squadrons of Russian cavalry which had retreated over the Causeway Heights from the Heavy Brigade. Twelve guns had been unlimbered in front of them; three fresh squadrons of Lancers stood on each of their flanks; along the Fedioukine Heights were four additional squadrons of cavalry, eight battalions of infantry and fourteen guns. Opposite them, across the valley on the Causeway Heights, were the eleven battalions that had stormed upon the Turks and were now being gently prodded by Cathcart, and with them were a further thirty-two guns. Only a madman, as Lucan afterwards said, would expect men to charge into that open, mile-long jaw.

Map of the "Valley of Death": the plain at Balaclava just before the Charge of the Light Brigade.

'The Brigade will advance,' Lord Cardigan said in a strangely quiet voice.

Lord Raglan and his staff did not immediately realise that anything had gone wrong. The direction of the advance was perhaps a little inclined to the left but not yet alarmingly so, and soon no doubt when the pace quickened the Light Brigade would swing to the right on to the Causeway Heights. This undoubtedly was what the Russians were expecting, for as the cavalry came slowly but determinedly towards them they withdrew from all but one of the captured redoubts and formed up in squares near the crest of the ridge. Here was Sir George Cathcart's opportunity, and some of his staff anxiously waited for him to take quick advantage of it. His division was still halted in the position it had taken up an hour or so previously, but he refused to move it, even though the redoubts he had been ordered to recapture were now no longer occupied. A staff officer urged him to advance. He said no, his mind was quite made up on the matter, and he would write to Lord Raglan.

For the first fifty yards the Light Brigade advanced at a steady trot. The guns were silent. Lord Cardigan in his splendid blue and cherry-coloured uniform with its pelisse of gold-trimmed fur swinging gently on his stiffly thin shoulders looked, as Lord Raglan afterwards said of him, as brave and proud as a lion. He never glanced over his shoulder, but kept his eyes on the guns in his front.

Suddenly the beautiful precision and symmetry of the advancing line was broken. Inexcusably galloping in front of the commander came that 'impertinent devil' Nolan. He was waving his sword above his head and shouting for all he was worth. He turned round in his saddle and seemed to be trying to warn the infuriated Lord Cardigan and the first line of his men that they were going the wrong way. But no one heard what words he was shouting, for now the Russians had opened fire and his voice was drowned by the boom and crash of their guns. A splinter from one of the first shells fired flew into Nolan's heart. The hand that had been so frantically waving his sword remained rigidly above his head, and his knees, as if even in death they could not forget the habits of a lifetime, still gripped the flanks of his horse. The horse turned round and, as his rider's sword slipped from the still raised hand, he galloped furiously back with his terrifying burden, which suddenly gave forth a cry so inhuman and piercingly grotesque that one who heard it described it as 'the shriek of a corpse'.

The pace began to quicken, and there could be no doubt now that most of these seven hundred horsemen were riding to their death. From three sides the round shot flew into the ranks and the shells burst between them, opening gaps which closed with so calm and unhurried a determination that men and women watched from the safety of the hills with tears streaming down their cheeks, and General Bosquet murmured, unconsciously delivering himself of a protest against such courage which was to be remembered for ever, 'C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre.' 'The tears ran down my cheeks,' General Buller's A.D.C. wrote, 'and the din of musketry pouring in their murderous fire on the brave gallant fellows rang in my ears.' 'Pauvre garçon!' said an old French general standing at his side, trying to comfort him, patting him on the shoulder. 'je suis vieux, j'ai vu des batailles, mais ceci est trop.'

Cardigan was still in front. An excited officer of the 17th Lancers rode up alongside him, and Cardigan held out his sword across his breast. 'Steady! Steady! the 17th Lancers,' Cardigan shouted above the roar of the guns.

Behind him could be heard the fragmented shouts of squadron commanders -- 'Close to your centre! "Do look to your dressing on the left!' 'Keep back, Johnson, back!' But more frequently than any other order -- 'Close in! Close in! Close in to the centre!' For men and horses were falling now in appalling numbers, and with every fifty yards the charging lines became narrower, more ragged, split and uneven, more confused. Wounded men stumbled back through the muddle of bleeding horses and their dead and dying friends. Terrified riderless horses thundered out of the smoke.

Seeing the Light Cavalry massacred in front of him, Lord Lucan turned to Lord William Paulet and said to him, 'They have sacrificed the Light Brigade, they shall not have the Heavy, if I can help it.' And he ordered the halt to be sounded, withdrawing the brigade to a position where he might be able to prevent the light cavalry being pursued on its return. Wounded in his leg, he had shown complete indifference under fire and earned the grudging admission of one of his most violent critics that 'Yes, he is brave, damn him.' It took courage of another sort to withdraw the Heavy Brigade at such a time and give his enemies further opportunity to misunderstand his reason for doing so.

The Light Brigade was almost on the guns now. The officers had lost control of their men, who rushed on furiously, forcing Cardigan to increase his pace. Still so angry with Nolan that the only other thing he could think of was what it would be like to be cut in half by a cannon-ball, he picked out the smoke-filled space between the red flashes of two guns and rode straight for it. He was less than a hundred yards from the guns when all twelve of them simultaneously exploded in his face, rocking the earth and filling the air with thick smoke and flying metal. The Russian gunners had fired their last salvo before crawling under the guns. Cardigan was almost blown off his horse, but steadied himself and charged on into the battery at a speed, so he calculated with careful concern for accuracy, of seventeen miles an hour.

Only fifty men of the front line remained alive to follow him. But in they rushed, slashing at several brave Russian gunners who had not dived after their comrades under the guns but were pulling at the wheels in their efforts to drag them away. About eighty yards behind the guns were ranged the unmoving ranks of Russian cavalry. Cardigan looked at them with distaste. They all appeared to be gnashing their teeth. He took this to be a sign of greed at the sight of the rich fur and gold lace of his uniform. But other men had noticed before these 'numberless cages of teeth' in the pale, wide faces, and it was believed to signify not greed, nor even ferocity, but annoyance and impatience due to a thwarted wish to charge.

As Cardigan looked at them disdainfully, one of their officers, Prince Radzivill, looked back and remembered having met him at a party in London. He ordered some Cossacks to capture him alive. The Cossacks came forward, encircled him, and prodded him with their lances, cutting his leg. Cardigan glared scornfully at their wretched-looking nags, keeping his sword at the slope, as he considered it 'no part of a general's duty to fight the enemy among private soldiers', and then galloped away. He left his private soldiers to continue the fight while he trotted back up the valley to lodge a complaint about the infamous conduct of Captain Nolan.

Behind him the struggle continued unabated. Officers and men hacked at the Russian gunners, who hunched their heads between their shoulders as they tried to drag off their guns; while beyond the guns Captain Morris with what remained of the 17th Lancers charged at a mass of Russian cavalry and drove them back in disorder. He pursued them for some way until an enormous number of Cossacks forced his men back again.

Another body of Cossacks rode down on the men still fighting in the battery. Colonel Mayow, the Brigade Major, led the men out and drove the Russians off, as Lord George Paget galloped up and charged into the battery with the second line. The 4th Light Dragoons fell upon the gunners with a frightening savagery and massacred them with the ferocious excitement of Samurai. One British officer, maddened by the smell and sight of blood, clawed frenziedly at them with his bare hands, another swung his word in the air screaming hysterically.

When all the Russian gunners were dead, the Dragoons charged on towards the cavalry beyond. But as they galloped through the still thick smoke, they ran into the 11th Hussars retreating before a vastly superior force of Russian lancers.

'Halt, boys!' Lord George shouted. 'Halt front. If you don't halt front, my boys, we're done.'

And so the two regiments, numbering between them less than forty men, stood at bay to face the advancing enemy. Suddenly a man shouted, 'They are attacking us, my Lord, in our rear.' It was true. Their retreat was cut off.

Lord George turned to Major Low. 'We are in a desperate scrape. What the devil shall we do? Where is Lord Cardigan?

But Lord Cardigan had trotted away, and there was only one thing that could be done.

'You must go about,' he called to the men, 'and do the best you can.'

The men rode hard and straight up the valley at the Russian lancers formed up across their line of retreat as fast as their 'poor tired horses would carry' them. The Russian lancers backed away as if they were preparing to fall on the flank of the retreating horsemen when they galloped past. But they did not do so. Restrained perhaps by that curiously indecisive leadership which was becoming a feature of Russian cavalry tactics, the lancers allowed Lord George's men to graze past them, half-heartedly pushing at them with their lances. Or perhaps it was that they were moved to compassion by the sight of these tattered remains of the most splendid-looking cavalry in the world.

For the men of the Light Brigade presented a pitiable sight. Their gorgeous uniforms were torn and smeared with blood, their horses as damp and bedraggled as water-rats. And they were the fortunate ones. Others went past on foot, alone or in pairs or dragging loved horses limping and bleeding to death behind them.

The ground was 'strewn with the dead and dying'. Horses in every position of agony struggled to get up, then floundered back again on their mutilated riders.

Even now the guns still fired at them. But only from the Causeway Heights. On the Fedioukine Hills the Russian artillery had been driven from their positions by a spectacular charge of the 4th Chasseurs d'Afrique, who had shown what brave horsemen can do when well directed and skilfully led.

The leader of the Light Brigade was already home. He, at least, felt clear of blame for the unskilful manner in which the brigade had been directed. 'It is a mad-brained trick,' he said to a group of survivors. 'But it is no fault of mine.'

He rode up to Lord Raglan to offer the same excuse.

'What did you mean, sir?' Raglan asked him, more angry than his staff had ever seen him before, shaking his head from side to side, the stump of his arm jumping convulsively in its empty sleeve. 'What do you mean by attacking a battery in front, contrary to all the usages of warfare and the customs of the service?'

'My Lord,' Cardigan said, confident of his blamelessness, 'I hope you will not blame me, for I received the order to attack from my superior officer in front of the troops.'

It was, after all, a soldier's complete indemnification. Lord Cardigan rode back to his yacht with a clear conscience. And when his anger had cooled Lord Raglan had to admit that the brigade commander was not to blame. He had 'acted throughout', he wrote in a letter typical of many generous comments on Cardigan's part in the disaster, 'with the greatest steadiness and gallantry, as well as perseverance'.

With Lucan, Lord Raglan was not so forgiving. Soon after his conversation with Cardigan, who had naturally put the entire blame on his brother-in-law, Raglan said to Lucan sadly, 'You have lost the Light Brigade.'

Lucan vehemently denied it. He had, he said, merely carried out an order given to him both in writing and verbally by an A.D.C. from Headquarters. Lord Raglan, according to Lucan, now made a curious reply.

'Lord Lucan,' he said, 'You were a lieutenant-general and should, therefore, have exercised your discretion and, not approving the charge, should not have caused it to be made.'

****

Under flags of truce the dead and wounded were brought back from the now silent valley, while patrols trotted slowly across the space separating the two armies. Horses streaming with blood and unable to get to their feet bit at the short grass with froth-covered teeth. And every now and then men winced at the sharp, melancholy sound of the farriers' pistols. Nearly five hundred horses were lost.

Of the 673 men who had charged down the valley less than two hundred had returned. The Russians, as well as the allies, were deeply moved by such heroism. General Liprandi could not at first believe that the English cavalry had not all been drunk. 'You are noble fellows,' he told a group of prisoners, 'and I am sincerely sorry for you.'

The allies had need of sympathy. The engagement could not, whatever feats of courage had been displayed, be considered a victory. Balaclava admittedly had not been taken, but the Russian armies now straddled the Causeway Heights. And the road, which ran along the top of them and which might have saved the army from some of the horrors of the coming winter, was lost.

THE BALACLAVA GROUP. (From a Photograph taken the day after the Battle)

KEY TO BALACLAVA GROUP

Lieutenant Percy Smith, who, by the way, was the only officer who rode through the charge and came back on his original horse, states that when he formed up the remains of the regiment, after the charge, he "could only get hold of fourteen mounted men; and one of them was on a Russian horse which he caught after losing his own. Possibly a few horses had got back before me, and had attached themselves to other regiments, but for the moment the effective [?] strength of the 13th was one officer [myself] and fourteen rank and file."

The Light Brigade had 195 mounted survivors, leaving 113 dead and 134 wounded with 231 unhorsed men.

STATE OF THE REGIMENT ON OCTOBER 25, 1854.

Lieutenant Percy Smith, who was acting adjutant, in a letter, writes, "the number of horses on parade was 108, exclusive of officers."

The Regimental Record gives the strength of the regiment, including officers, as 128.

The History of the 11th Hussars gives the parade state of the 13th on that day as 130.

Trumpeter Powell, on the authority of Corporal Nagle (both of the 13th), places the strength as low as 103.

From a letter to Colonel Anstruther-Thomson, written by Captain Jenyns, we get yet another figure: "We had 110 horses and eight officers when we went into action (young Goad's horse, the one he jumped the timber on, was knocked over by a round-shot early in the day, and the young 'un hurt in the fall)."

The total strength of the Light Brigade when it started on the charge is usually accepted as 673.

Of the officers of the 13th, the following were present at Balaclava:—

Captains Oldham, Goad, Jenyns, and Tremayne; Lieutenants Jervis and Smith; Cornets Montgomery and Chamberlayne.

Lieut.-Colonel Charles Edmund Doherty was not present. Major Richard Ormsby Gore (afterwards Lord Harlech) was invalided, as also were Lieutenants Purcell and King. Cornet G. Maxwell Goad was injured early in the battle. Of Cornet Maclean there is no information, but he belonged to B Troop. It is, however, certain that he was not in the charge.

Hart's Army List states that Captain Jenyns commanded the regiment in the battle of Balaclava. But he was junior both to Captain Oldham and Captain Goad.

The History of the 11th Hussars states that the 13th Light Dragoons were commanded at Balaclava by "Colonel" Oldham, which is obviously incorrect. The fact is that Captain Jenyns succeeded to the command after the deaths of Captains Oldham and Goad. From the Regimental Records of the 13th no information on this point is to be obtained, nor even is an accurate or any list indeed of the officers at Balaclava given. It is only by sifting evidence that the above names have been arrived at. Lieutenant Percy Smith happened to be acting adjutant because no successor had yet been appointed to the late adjutant, Lieutenant Irwin. Eventually, the Regimental Sergeant-Major George Gardner was gazetted cornet and adjutant.

The officers with the depot troops in England were Captains Holden and the Hon. John Hely Hutchinson; Lieutenants Clayton and Davis; and Cornets Dearden and Fielden.

These troops were lettered C and F. Consequently at Balaclava the A, B, D, and E troops were engaged, and were officered as follows:—

A Troop—Captain Oldham and Cornet Montgomery.
B Troop—Captain Jenyns and Lieutenant Jervis.
D Troop—Captain Goad and (for a time) Cornet Goad.
E Troop—Captain Tremayne, Lieutenant Percy Smith, and Cornet Chamberlayne.

The A and B troops formed one squadron, the A troop being on the extreme right of the line.

The D and E troops formed the other, E troop being on the left of the other squadron.

From the above it will be understood that any attempt to fix with accuracy the exact number of officers and men of the 13th who were actually engaged in the charge of the Light Brigade is not likely to succeed. We know that there were eight officers, but no amount of consideration will enable us to reconcile the other numbers.

Crimea

17th. Lancer.