Charge of the light brigade

Imagine two armies, both heavily armed, camped on either side of a narrow hill pass.  Neither one can rout the other, because it would be suicide, but they engage in repeated skirmishes, attacking and retreating.  One day, the Russian army captures some guns from the British army. The next day, the British commander orders the Cavalry to harrass the Russians, to prevent them from removing the guns. However, a simple miscommunication meant that the cavalary went after the wrong guns...and straight into the pass, surrounded on three sides by Russian artillery.

The Light Brigade went first, with the Heavy Brigade behind, but the Lieutenant-General quickly realized the situation and halted the Heavy Brigade.  The Light Brigade, despite heavy casualties, miraculously made it through the valley pass and actually forced the Russians into a brief retreat.  However, realising they had no support, they tried to retreat themselves.  The Russians returned to their guns and opened fire, decimating the Light Brigade.  Only half of the original 600 survived, and most of those were injured or captured.

Although it was a significant failure, the bravery of the British captured the imagination of the public.  Even the French Marshal commented, "C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre. C'est de la folie." ("It is magnificent, but it is not war. It is madness.")  Alfred, Lord Tennyson, of course penned the most famous tribute:

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 dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldiers knew
  Some one had blunder'd:
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 the right of them,
Cannon to the left of them,
Cannon in front of them
  Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
  Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turned in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army while
  All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
  Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' 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 wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
  Noble six hundred!