Crimea, by Jove. War was war in those days, and men were men. No room for weaklings....

General Burroughs: Crimea, by Jove. War was war in those days, and men were men. No room for weaklings. Balaclava for instance. Here, you fellows remember the positions. Now, here, these nuts were the Russians - guns, guns, guns. On the right, the British infantry - the thin red line. There was the commander-in-chief and here was I, at the head of the old 68th. The right was impossible, the left was blocked, behind us was the commander-in-chief. I realised the position in a flash. I said, "The 68th will move forward." Immediately one of my subalterns came to me, shaking. Absolutely shaking. I said, "What's wrong Carruthers?" "I'm afraid to face those guns, sir". I said, "Would you rather face me?" Hmm. He took one look at my face and off he went. Ten minutes later he was shot to pieces at the head of his men, as a soldier should be, eh?