Five Things You Need To Know: The Crimean War

That little spot south of Ukraine continues to fascinate people all around the world, and should Putin ever decide on a singing career, his version of Crimea River would surely rake in 140% of the top billboard spots. At the same time, I’m sure that no one’s interest in the previous events which made Crimea famous has been piqued. That’s all right, because as a history student I specialise in things that no one cares about.

So just what was the Crimean War? On the first level, you would say that it was a war which happened in Crimea. And you wouldn’t be wrong – but if you’re going to say this and pass yourself off as a military history expert, then you’ve got about as much chance as any given unnamed character in a Rambo movie. Here, therefore, are five things you need to know about the Crimean War:

1. The One Where Everyone Was Against Russia

History, like Keanu Reeves, doesn’t change, and predictably the whole thing began with Russia. First of all, Russia rushed through the Expandables 1, 2 and 3 in twenty years, and talks were in for a fourth. Second, they demanded the Ottoman Empire let them protect Eastern Orthodox people in Turkey. Obviously the Ottomans were having none of that.

So what did Russia do? Clue: it’s something they do all the time. 

Britain and France weren’t happy about this, of course. They generally aren’t happy about anything (read: each other) but this was particularly pissifying. The French in particular were annoyed, because they’d been trying to gain a religious upper hand in the Ottoman Empire. So what did they do?

They sent a fleet to the Dardenelles. Now anything France does Britain has to do too.

So they sent a fleet to the Dardenelles as well. All this happened without a formal declaration of war; so we have three European countries wondering around in Ottoman territory. Tired of having to figure out which red, blue and white flag was which, the Ottomans made it simpler for themselves by declaring war on Russia and promptly attacking them. And after Russia rejected a proposed treaty, so did Britain and France. Russia must have felt very proud of itself.

2. The Charge of the Light Brigade happened during the war.

I’m going to go out on a limb and assume it wasn’t quite like this.

The Charge of the Light Brigade is part of the Battle of Balaclava, which is not quite the same as the battle for balaclava (terrorists running around shooting each other in order to get the last ski mask on sale). Originally, the Light Brigade was going to handle something they were capable of handling, but someone made a massive mistake when his sweep of the arm to locate their targets included some pretty heavy duty guns. There are two lessons to be learnt from this: a) don’t sweep your arms and b) if you don’t want to get the blame, die. (The guy who swept his arms got killed later on.)

They rode horses into cannons. The leader, Lord Cardigan (the Battle of Balaclava was really the precursor of any given fashion week today), survived and went off to have champagne on his yacht.

3. Florence Nightingale was around.

For a war that not many people care about, it sure spawned a lot of famous names. The Lady with the Lamp went around with some 38 volunteeer nurses trying to fix up wounded British soldiers – most of whom were suffering from disease more than actual wounds. Whether she participated in the Charge of the Light Brigade was not known.

4. It gave the Americans Alaska.

You that little bit on the map that’s always the same colour as the USA even though there’s this big chunk of Canada in between? Yep – the Crimean War was the reason why. After the war ended, the Russians were so far in debt that they decided to sell off the land. Unfortunately, they didn’t know just how valuable it was going to be until 13 years later, when the USA discovered oil and shit.

Then again, the Russians were responsible for Sarah Palin, so we all know who the real winner is here.

5. The last surviving veteran of the Crimean War was a tortise.

Timothy was actually a girl (anyone who knows a Timothy, you might want to check) and served as a mascot on multiple Royal Navy ships. At her time of death she was around 165 years old and lived a long, fruitful life. After serving with the navy, she decided that enough was enough and took up residence in an Earl’s home, where she got the Earl’s motto etched onto her underbelly: “Where have I fallen? What have I done?”

Admittedly, this is not one of the best mottos around.

And thus concludes five things you need to know about the Crimean War. This article was written for no reason except to use the Crimea River joke.

That Day of Days

This is going to be an emotionally-charged piece which will probably not make sense and jump from here to there as I try to clear my thoughts, but it is still something I needed to write.

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Every year on the 6th of June, I turn on the TV, start up the DVD player, and watch the first and second episodes of Band of Brothers. And every year as I see their faces, the word runs through my head again and again: dead, dead, dead. Some of them had the good grace and fortune to die peacefully in their old age; others would die just fifteen minutes later. The list is always growing longer. My brother’s favourite soldier, Bill Guaranere, died March 8 this year. My own, Richard Winters, died three years ago. There are an estimated 1200 Normandy veterans still alive, most if not all older than ninety, and soon they too will pass beyond the field of living memory. Already people forget them; before I came along I’m fairly certain none of my friends even understood what D-Day was, let alone when it happened.

Personally, I have no connection whatsoever to those men who stormed those beaches. I don’t know any veterans, and I will probably never know any. But when I watch those sweeping shots of C-47s heading towards France, those clouds lit up with what is certainly not lightning, I always start crying, because it has everything to do with me, and you, and them. The significance of D-Day is often overstated, but it was important nonetheless, the opening up of the second front that Stalin had demanded for so long and that signaled the beginning of the end that Churchill had once spoken of. If D-Day had not succeeded, who’s to say what might have happened? but the one thing for sure is that even more millions of people would have died, and the war would have dragged on. If those boys – some no older than me – hadn’t fought their hearts out I, many other people, possibly a whole race, might not even be here today.

You’ll often hear people deriding the need for history. What’s the point of remembering, they’ll ask, something that happened seventy years ago? What’s the point of all these memorials and ceremonies and thinking? The past is the past and there’s no point looking back. We’ve got to focus on the future. And they’re right; the future is important. But anyone who thinks that the past isn’t needs to watch the veterans, streaming back to Normandy for what might possibly be their last time. Kneeling down at friends’ graves, bowing their heads in front of the pristine white crosses. Needs to see the sacrifices that both they and the people no longer there have made. Needs to realise how important remembering is, if only to tell us how we came here. Because that’s what history’s about, isn’t it; it’s our story, the chronicle of humanity, and respecting those who guided us.

It’s impossible to truly imagine what those wee hours of the morning were like. The silence of the shots of the paratroopers pre-take off, the pushing and pulling into the planes, the droning of the engines. They must have known that they were going to their doom, or at least that they’d never see some of their friends again. The steady rocking of the boats, the tension gnawing at their hearts. The waiting, more than anything, is the most horrifying thing about D-Day. The repeated stops and starts, never knowing when you’re going to go into battle, never quite knowing when that red light is going to flick on or when you’re going to land. Just sitting in that boat or in that plane and having to go towards death bravely, having to – one might say – soldier on.

What Band of Brothers did so well was juxtapose the silent nighttime, with sudden flashes of terror and bursts of machine gun fire cutting deep into what could have been any peaceful French countryside. And doing all of this fighting without knowing where any of your friends are (90% of the unit still not found, paratroopers scattered all across Normandy) – just you and your gun and that ridiculous cricket. Creeping around in the darkness stiffening every time you hear boots crunching on ground. Whispering ‘flash’ and dreading no reply. Sitting here in a comfortable chair with nothing but the hum of the electronic fan and the ticking of the clock I couldn’t imagine how it really was, but those men who fought I have nothing but respect and love for them.

As I mentioned before, this post is just one big emotional wreck while I try to find a proper way to express my gratitude and my emotions for D-Day, and everything that came after. I talked a lot about the paratroopers because they were the point from which I was thrown fully into my love for the arts. But the same is true of the men down on the beaches running directly into the line of fire, not only because they had nowhere else to go, but in a sense because they were brave enough to. I know that these men would never think of themselves as heroes, only boys sent to fight and die whether it was a cause they believed in or not. But I count each and every single one of them as my inspirations and as my heroes.

I watch Day of Days every year because it was the first thing I ever saw that fully rammed home the weight and the importance of 6 June 1944. It’s a little tribute, paltry as compared to what they gave, and it doesn’t really do anything, but it’s my tribute nevertheless. My way of remembering things as best as I can. On June 6, 2044, I hope to be one of the people able to stand at the graves of the soldiers, thanking them for all they have done. But for now, I will be content watching that last shot of Currahee: the hundreds of planes in the sky, the dozens of boats in the waters, the new world stepping forth to the rescue and liberation of the old.