The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1885-01-08

The Gallant ChargS a6 Balakisva = Al
Eye Wltnsss Describes the Bcens an
Kfoct az r 0roat Military Error.

On Oct. 20, 1904, our eyes turned TO
the heights of Balaklava, on the pos
session Of which depended the very ex-
istence Of the allied forces. On that
day the Russians made desperate at
tack on our lines, to be as desperately
repulsed. Word was sent to headquar-
tiers that the enemy, under cover Of q
heavy fire from the forts, had left Se-
bastopol in force and was massing him
self 30 as to threaten the safety Of the
heights. was at once sent with an
order for the cavalry and horse artil-
lery to move and be ready to assume
the offensive. They had not to wait
long. The Turkish lines were swept
as by a whilwind, and with our Mo-
hammedan allies the word was sauve
qui peut. The heavy cavalry on the
right aud the light brigade on the left
were advanced, with the artillery in the
center playing game Mt long bowls.
Meanwhile a Russian battery was os-
tentatiously moved forward, whose we'll
served guns promised to be embarrass-
ing.
Lord Raglan, who aid not know the
full strength of the foe, saw that this
obstacle must be removed; but whether
or not he also foresaw the necessity of
first looking before the leap was taken
must be forever mystery. The COM
manders of the cavalry brigades, Lords
Lucan and Cardigan, brothers-in-law,
between whom no love was lost, were
waiting the word to engage. Lord
Lucan being the senior officer. To
them sped Capt. Nolan, dashing
hussar. Saluting the General he said
he bore an order-unwritten-
Lord Raglan that the battery must be
silenced and the guns captured. Lord
Lucan, a man 80 cautious as to have
earned the nickname Lord Look-on,"
fearing to expose his small force to
any ambushed dangers, asked for more
definite orders With slightly con-
4emptuous turn of his handsome lip,
tho aid-de-camp pointed in the direc-
ton of the battery and said:
"You see your enemy, my lord"
Even the Earl of Cardigan, impetu-
Gus as he was, generally speaking,
looked at his commander in doubt as
to the words. But, owing to the I'M
happy enmity existing between them,
neither would speak his thoughts, and
once more Nolan, impatiently waving
his sword, which he had fiercely drawn
from its scabbard, and, pointing it to
the artillery, cried: take the guns !;
these are your orders.
The crisis has arrived. No recourse
is left but to do as he bids. A cold
nod of assent from Lord Lucan. A
profound bow follows from Lord Cardi-
gan. Light division, forward, charged
breaks from his lips. An echoing cheer
is the reply from COZ Threats, as with
clang of scabbard and rattle of bride
and bit, and the braying of the trumpet,
and the ringing cheer of the "Heavies, I"
the Fourth and Thirteenth Lights, the
Eighth and Eleventh Hussars, the lat
ter Lord Cardigan's own corps, con-
spicuous in their cherry-colored trous-
ers. and the Seventeenth Lancers, with
ranks closed up and squadrons dressed
as evenly as if at march past, trot
forward down the slight declivity. At
their head rides the gallant Nolan and
the dauntless Cardigan-even in this
supreme moment with reckless laugh
upon his face, as he argues some point
of war with his brother hussar.
The unmasked batteries are already
belching forth shot and shell. The trot
breaks into gallop, the gallop into a
furious, headlong charge. Already
Nolan has fallen, cut down by grape
shot, the secret of the fatal day dying
with him. The serried ranks show fire.
quent gaps as saddle after saddle is
emptied. "Close up! Close up
Chargew is the unceasing cry, and in
q shorter time than it takes to tell the
opening ranks of the foe disclosed to
the doomed but indomitable few, can
non to right of them. cannon to left OF
them, cannon in front of them-and
now cannon behind them. On through
the Russian line pressed the noble army
of martyrs, their oriflamme, their
brave leaders flashing saber, their sup
port.
With wild cheer and wilder leap,
the cherry-clad heroes fly over the guns
as lightly as they would over a five
barred gate on the hunting field, saber.
ing the gunners as they leap. A beard.
less boy, not yet II, holds fast to the
colors he has sworn to carry to death OF
victory, and falls with the cry, MY
mother will hear of thisw on his dy-
ing lips, still grasping that banner il
his hand.
Far away, clear in front, with his
aide-de-cam and few choice spirits
on his right hand and on his left -none
ahead ofhim, raging like lion, fights,
with forlorn hope, the leader and
commander of the Light Brigade. He
bears charmed life, and his brawny
arm is endowed with the power OF
slaughter that grows mightier every
moment from the meat it feeds on
Further and further he dashes on,
cleaving his way with his blood-staineG
sword till he reaches the last of the
guns.
Here, when he sees the end is not yet
but that rank upon rank of cavalry and
infantry, with heavy artillery in theil
rear, stretches out back of the city'i
utmost bastion, he recognizes how use
less il will be further to tempt the fates
and fight one against thousand
Coolly and calmly, as if in Hyde Park
he takes in the situation at glance
and gives the word to the trumpeter X
sound first the assembly" then the
retreat" A bullet crashes through the
u A