Posts Tagged ‘Varna’

Sir James Scarlett's specially modified helmet

General Sir James Scarlett was placed in command of the entire Heavy Brigade of cavalry in the Crimean campaign.  English Army of the East landed at Kalamita Bay in the Crimea in September 1854, without the Heavy Cavalry Brigade (2^nd Cavalry Brigade), which was still at Varna, awaiting transport.  Brigadier General Scarlett began landing the Heavy Brigade along the Crimean coast on 24 September 1854, and completed the landing at Balaclava on 6 October 1854.  The Heavy Brigade battle honours include The Battle of Balaclava and the Siege of Sevastopol.

On 25 October 1854, in South Valley at the Battle of Balaclava, General Scarlett led his Heavy Brigade in a charge against a strong force of Russian cavalry, and succeeded in driving them off the field.  Unfortunately, not much is heard of this charge, as it was over-shadowed by the spectacular disaster that followed it.  This was when Lord Cardigan led his Light Cavalry Brigade against massed Russian artillery and cavalry down a gauntlet of enemy fire in the North Valley.  The Heavy Brigade followed in support of the Light into the Valley of Death, but stopped midway into the valley on orders from Lord Lucan, who commanded the entire cavalry division.

General Scarlett’s own regiment was the 5^th Dragoon Guards.  The helmet of the 5^th Dragoon Guards is brass, but the front peak is straight down over the eyes, and there is a regimental badge on the front.  Scarlett was nearsighted and designed the helmet in this photograph with the front peak extended forward, no doubt to lend a better view.  He substituted long elegant black feathers for the horsehair plum.  He also seems to have redesigned the 5^th Dragoon Guards helmet plate with a full silver garter surmounted by a crown, leaving out the dragoon badge in the center.  Altogether this makes the helmet and this photograph quite unique.

Ironically, in spite of the better view afforded by his modified helmet, the near-sighted Scarlett almost missed the on-coming Russian cavalry until a staff officer politely pointed them out to him.

This artifact was photographed courtesy of the Towneley Hall Art Gallery and Museum, Burnley, Lancashire, UK, where the Scarlett collection is maintained.

Sunny, before his winter coat

Today, I went to our stables, the wonderful Saw Horse Farm, run by Wendy Dutterer, in Hunterstown, Pennsylvania, to ride my horse, Sunny.  He is taken excellent care of there, and has grown his own lush winter coat.  It was a great ride, but a searing cold day.  When I ride and see the horses on brisk days like this, I am reminded of the plight of the horses in the Crimean War.

Numerous horses were required by a mid-19th century army.  Not merely for the cavalry and horse artillery, but for all the senior officers of infantry regiments, and the many staff officers.  Some wealthier officers brought several horses.  All of these animals had to be transported by water from England to the Crimea in sailing or steam-driven ships.  This could take anywhere from weeks to months, depending on the speed of the ships.

Over 150 horses of the Cavalry Division were lost during deployment to the Crimea.  In one bad storm, it was necessary to shoot injured horses, who became wild and uncontrollable below decks.

Many horses were rendered unserviceable by the rigors of the voyage.  These losses had a near crippling effect on the cavalry.  Those that made it intact, had to face severe climate changes, and one of the worst winters recorded in Crimean history.

It had been planned that remounts would be purchased from various local horse traders, but like so many plans for this badly mismanaged war, this one fell apart quickly and drastically.  Captain Louis Nolan, the famous staff officer who brought the order to Lord Lucan prompting the ill-fated “Charge of the Light Brigade,” was even tasked to travel across Syria and overland to the staging area at Varna on the Black Sea, with the mission of purchasing remounts and transport horses along the way.  He was only modestly successful.  There were insufficient horses for sale anywhere enroute, at the staging area, or in the Crimea.  Those horses that were available were smaller, often weak, and frequently unserviceable for cavalry, artillery, or even transport requirements.

Not long after landing on the Crimean coast, the savage winter set in and took its toll.  The horses brought from England were hardly used to the unbearable Crimean temperatures or conditions – colic and death were everywhere among these unfortunate animals.

By far the most disastrous loss of horses, however, was a direct result of that unhappy charge by the Light Brigade into a gauntlet of Russian guns.  The charge, in about 25 minutes, cost the British army over 100 men killed, but perhaps the most telling catastrophe was the loss of horses.  Around 400 were killed and many more put out of service.  It was the loss of horses which left the Light Brigade unfit for further action as a unit.

Two horses of particular note were in the Light Brigade’s charge: the mount of Captain Nolan, the first casualty of the affair, and, Ronald, Lord Cardigan’s horse.  I will tell their tale tomorrow.

Officers, 39th Regiment, with a horse not unlike Sunny

Captain Halford, 5th Dragoon Guards

Captain Heneage, Coldstream Guards

Captain Wilkinson, 9th Regiment

Lieutenant Yates, 11th Hussars

Officers, 39th Regiment

There were many dogs with the British in the Crimea, including this one with officers of the 57th Regiment of Foot.

[This is a fictional tale by Will Hutchison, based on a very real story]

The war had begun.  Britain and France, unlikely bedfellows, were joined, with the help of Sardinia, against Russia – ostensibly to protect “poor, invaded, Turkey.”  As the 1st Battalion, Scots Fusilier Guards marched to the ships, they were led by a proud, prancing Sticks, his black and brown coat shining in the sun.

The marching troops passed by the amazed butcher along the way.  Private Gorman, marching near the head of the column, noticed Sticks’ back stiffen, his head tilt slightly higher, and he could have sworn he heard Sticks sniff loudly as he marched past his former master.

The sea journey was uneventful, except in choppy waters – Sticks being one of the few who did not tear his insides out retching over the rail.  Varna, along the western coast of the Black Sea was the army’s staging area.  It was also where cholera hit the British and French forces – hard – sometimes killing a hundred men in a day.  Sticks watched over his brothers in arms, adding joy to the last few moments of their lives when the sickness consumed them.  He was saddened by the losses, which cut his new friends down within hours of showing the first signs of illness.

“I think I have it, Sticks, heaven help me,” Sean Gorman pronounced one morning, when a grey pallor appeared on his face.  Sticks whined, remained with his friend … but he seemed to know that Sean would not succumb … or perhaps he willed it.  By the third day, it was determined that Sean had serious diarrhea, but not the cholera.  In time he recovered and was back with the regiment.

The real Sticks, whose name was actually "Bob" - This wonderful sketch is courtesy of an unknown artist

The regiment finally moved across the Black Sea to the Crimea, and a confrontation with the Russians.  Sticks first saw action at the Alma River, where the Scots Fusilier Guards were in the thick of a frontal assault on a Russian position fortified with cannon.  While they waited to assault, solid shot and shell rained down upon them perilously.

“What the divil is he aboot, Private Gorman?” asked the Sergeant Major, looking behind his line of soldiers, who were hugging the ground as close as possible.  He was watching Sticks cavorting about the field to their rear like he was playing with toy balls on a London green.

“He’s…he’s chasin’ after them cannon balls, Sar’nt Major.  He’s been doin’ it fer the longest time.”  They had been under intense cannon fire for over an hour.  The men’s nerves were frayed, stretched to the limit.  Watching this tiny dog scampering about was giving them a calming hope of survival.

“Ach, he is a charmer, that one,” said the Sergeant Major, laughing.  “You lads take heed now,” he bellowed.  “If the wee Sticks can stand this hell, then I’m damned sure we kin stand it.”  There were shouts of “Aye, that’s the God’s truth!” and “Charge on, Sticks, lad!”

The attack soon began in earnest.  First they crossed the Alma … where Sticks found he could swim, and Private Gorman went flat on his face in the water.  As the regiment moved up a gradual slope toward the enemy, men began to fall from the ranks.

Sticks would run to each, sniffing, prodding.  If the man lay still, he’d go on to the next.  If the man moved, he’d bark loudly until other soldiers or one of the bandmen, who were used to carry wounded to the rear, came up to aid the fallen man.  Sticks was utterly fearless and relentless. There were times when he ran so fast he outstretched the moving line of guardsmen, and had to be called back – bullets kicking up ground around him.

An officer went down, hit once in the leg.  It was the young lieutenant who had been Officer of the Day when Sean found Sticks in the snow. The ground where he lay was exposed except for a pile of rocks nearby.  The officer was hit again in the arm while lying on the ground. Sticks ran to his side and began dancing around, barking.  Sean heard the bark and recognized the wounded officer.  He moved quickly, grabbing the officer by his shoulder belt and coatee collar, dragging him behind the rocks.

“Good work, Sticks, lad,” he said, “but ya better bide here behind these rocks.  It’s no a safe place out there.”

Two bandsmen with an improvised stretcher came up.  Sean ran on to catch the regimental line moving ever closer to the Russians.  He looked back over his shoulder. “Stay – boy!  Stay!”

There was, of course, little or no chance of Sticks “staying.”

[The Conclusion, Part VI, will be along tomorrow with more of the real story behind the fictional tale.]

{Photograph at top taken by Roger Fenton}