***
‘Quick, you two, over here, it’s our Tom.’ Mrs Betty Martin, her cheeks wet with tears, waved wildly to Mary and Mrs Polley.
It had all been over in minutes. From their position on the ridge the women had seen almost nothing as the Light Brigade had charged home. From the Brigade’s left, right and front artillery and riflemen had fired incessantly as Mrs Martin had rung her hands so anxiously. During lulls in the gunfire the trio had heard yelling and the clash of steel on steel. Just visible to them along the ridgeline were a regiment of the enemy’s Rifles who cheered even as they fired and loaded.
Then, as quickly as the noise reached a crescendo it died. The guns ceased as if they had nothing more to fire at.
‘Where has the Brigade gone, Mrs Martin?’ Mrs Polley asked Betty the v
