The Charge of the Light Brigade

Sixty Minutes tonight carried a great story on the Australian Light Horse and their famous battle at Beersheba. On October 31, 1917 they went on the attack against the Turks. Eight hundred daring horseman charging into immortality.It was a massive gamble, but it paid off and changed the course of the war in the Middle East. 90 years on and the children and grandchildren of the Light Horsemen have returned to the Holy Land to pay their respects and remember the bravery of their fathers, and grandfathers.
In 1854, 673 soldiers charged into the North Valley above Balaclava in the Crimea inspiring the poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson, 'The Charge of the Light Brigade'. I love this poem - not because it glorifies war - but because it shows the tenacity of the human spirit against all the odds. Most of us understand that war is futile; but despite the impossible situation these men found themselves in, they determinedly followed their orders, and rode together alongside their mates into battle. Out of the Australians, amazingly only 33 were killed. Of the British at the Crimea, 113 were killed, many more were injured or missing, presumed captured.

'Half a league, half a league,
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 dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew
Someone had blundered.
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs 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
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flashed all their sabres bare,
Flashed as they turned in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wondered.
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right through the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reeled from the sabre-stroke
Shattered and sundered.
Then they rode back, but not,
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell.
They that had fought so well
Came through 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!