Battle of Balaklava 25th October 1854

Discussion in 'RAC' started by Ozgerbobble, Oct 25, 2006.

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  1. Don't forget to raise a glass or mug of gunfire tea to the poor feckers who turned up for first parade 152 years ago and didn't make it to the end of the day

  2. blue-sophist

    blue-sophist LE Good Egg (charities)

    My glass raised at this moment - poor sods.

    "'Tis wondrous what the British Army can, and will, do despite failures in the higher command."
  3. Respect to all who have gone before
    and hope that there will be no more
  4. My dad was an Irish Hussar and I was born on Balaclava Day so tonight I shall be raising many a glass.

    To all QRH who are still stuck in the sandpit have a good day and safe home.

    Edited to add: Today is also the anniversary of Agincourt - 591 years ago. Death to the French!

  5. Well, let's not forget the Heavy Brigade who won a glorious victory over the Russian cavalry that same day - no failures in command there.
  6. Many (Too many, Hic!) glasses raised to all of them!
  7. blue-sophist

    blue-sophist LE Good Egg (charities)

    ... and to so many, many others over the centuries. Bless 'em all.
  8. blue-sophist

    blue-sophist LE Good Egg (charities)

    Bit challenging, that one, if one regards 1066 as being the date when England became French. I think we recovered our equilibrium eventually, so broadly relate to your calumny!
  9. Here's to the Heavies, good men one and all. And to the Light Brigade a gallant band.
  10. In memory of Thomas Warr who died in Dorchester on the 20th June 1916, one of the last of the Light Brigade.

    The Last of the Light Brigade
    There were thirty million English who talked of England's might,
    There were twenty broken troopers who lacked a bed for the night.
    They had neither food nor money, they had neither service nor trade;
    They were only shiftless soldiers, the last of the Light Brigade.

    They felt that life was fleeting; they kuew not that art was long,
    That though they were dying of famine, they lived in deathless song.
    They asked for a little money to keep the wolf from the door;
    And the thirty million English sent twenty pounds and four!

    They laid their heads together that were scarred and lined and grey;
    Keen were the Russian sabres, but want was keener than they;
    And an old Troop-Sergeant muttered, "Let us go to the man who writes
    The things on Balaclava the kiddies at school recites."

    They went without bands or colours, a regiment ten-file strong,
    To look for the Master-singer who had crowned them all in his song;
    And, waiting his servant's order, by the garden gate they stayed,
    A desolate little cluster, the last of the Light Brigade.

    They strove to stand to attention, to straighen the toil-bowed back;
    They drilled on an empty stomach, the loose-knit files fell slack;
    With stooping of weary shoulders, in garments tattered and frayed,
    They shambled into his presence, the last of the Light Brigade.

    The old Troop-Sergeant was spokesman, and "Beggin' your pardon," he said,
    "You wrote o' the Light Brigade, sir. Here's all that isn't dead.
    An' it's all come true what you wrote, sir, regardin' the mouth of hell;
    For we're all of us nigh to the workhouse, an' we thought we'd call an' tell.

    "No, thank you, we don't want food, sir; but couldn't you take an' write
    A sort of 'to be conbnued' and 'see next page' o'the fight?
    We think that someone has blundered, an' couldn't you tell'em how?
    You wrote we were heroes once, sir. Please, write we are starving now."

    The poor little army departed, limping and lean and forlorn.
    And the heart of the Master-singer grew hot with "the sconrn of scorn."
    And he wrote for them wonderful verses that swept the land like flame,
    Till the fatted souls of the English were scourged with the thing called Shamme.

    O thirty million English that babble of England's might,
    Behold there are twenty heroes who lack their food to-night;
    Our children's children are lisping to "honour the charge they made --"
    And we leave to the streets and the workhouse the charge of the Light Brigade!
  11. I just caught the tail end of the item on southern news BBC TV about this ceremony held today:

    Edited to add: Have a happy birthday, Brewmeister. You will keep the noise down, won't you?
  12. blue-sophist

    blue-sophist LE Good Egg (charities)

  13. As I raise a glass (any excuse :oops: ) .....................
  15. Taken by my own fair hand.