The Crimean War would later be called “incompetent, international butchery“. The men on the front lines knew it to be such already. 

The British troops were located just outside of Sevastopol, Crimea. A position which had taken nearly a year to attain. In a year they had advanced a mere thirty miles! No one knew how much more it would cost, in both time and lives, to gain the remaining five miles and, finally, the city of Sevastopol.

 General Gordon had run out of words to encourage his troops. What could he say? The war had no great goal to inspire, no victim to rescue, and no end in sight.

Even the honour and camaraderie which had, at first, animated the troops were beginning to erode. Within the British lines, each man fought only to save himself. The soldiers were at war with each other as well as the enemy. 

The general tried to put these troubles out of his mind, but it was of little use. All his strategy seemed to be hindered by a single thought: How can we win when we’re fighting against ourselves? 

They had already lost.

 A sudden crash interrupted General Gordon’s thoughts. He hurried around a bend in the trench to find its cause. Yet another sad sight – cannon fire had destroyed part of the gabion, sending a cascade of stones and concrete into the trench below. A man lay dead on the ground, a large chunk of rock by his bleeding head. Three others were badly injured and the damaged gabion loomed over them, threatening to drop more rock as soon as the next blast shook the embankment. 

The corporal in charge of the area looked to one of the privates. “Repair the cage!” He shouted, pointing to a nearby ladder.

The private, a boy still in his teens, stepped back at the command. The enemy fire was heavy upon the embankment and the task would more than likely cost his life.

 The corporal looked up at the stones resting above, no longer secured by the thick metal wires which had held them. The crowded trench left little room to dodge falling debris. He looked back at the private. “Get up there!”

All colour had drained from the boy’s face. His fists clenched, he moved toward the nearest ladder.

The general, unnoticed by either party, watched with interest. He knew the inward struggle the young soldier was facing. A mere boy trying to make up his mind to die. It was a battle of will versus instinct.

The private was shaking as he took hold of the ladder and put his foot on the first rung. He climbed no further. “I can’t!” 

The corporal’s face showed no compassion. “You can and you will!” 

The boy shook his head. “Would you do it, Sir?” 

The corporal looked equally surprised and enraged at the question. He grabbed the youth by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the opposite wall of earth. “It’s not my job to do it, Private! What, are you afraid to die?” He stepped back and lifted his rifle to the boy’s chest. “Well, you can die up there or you can die down here. You choose!”

General Charles Gordon had seen enough! He picked up a coil of wire and silently ascended the ladder.

The men gasped in astonishment and the attention even of the enraged corporal was drawn upwards. Up to the general as he climbed to repair the gabion.

 The enemy fire was nearly continuous. Each explosion shook the embankment beneath Gordon, generating so much heat that the air itself burned his face. The enemy line soon spotted him and numerous bullets, narrowly missing their mark, sent chips of rock flying in all directions.

Repairing a cage of wire was a slow and tedious task. It seemed like an eternity before the work was finished. Finally, covered in blood, sweat, and debris, the general descended into the trench. 

As soon as his feet met with solid ground, his eyes found the corporal’s. “Never,” he shouted, “never tell another man to do that which you are afraid to do yourself!”

Let’s Talk About The Corporal

Martin Luther King Junior said, “The true measure of a man is not where he stands in the moments of comfort and convenience but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”

In the face of difficulty and danger, the corporal prioritized himself. He viewed the position of leadership as one of privilege and used his rank to delegated the dangerous, difficult, and unpleasant tasks to those beneath him.

I wish I could say I’ve never done that. Of all the characters in this story, the corporal is not the one I’d want to be.

I’d love to be able to look back on all the times I’ve faced challenge or controversy and see a response like General Gordon’s.

I’d like to say, I’ve at least been the private – struggling to do the right thing.

But the truth is, I have been the corporal.

I’ve never stepped into the spotlight of a stage so dramatic and desperate as the trenches of the Crimean War. I’ve never held a gun to someone’s chest in order to save myself. But I too have put myself before others. I too have viewed the position of authority as one of personal advantage. I, like the corporal, have told other men to do that which I was afraid to do myself.

Have you?

The Need For A Leader

I once had the opportunity to share the gospel with a complete stranger. I was sitting in an airport with a gospel track in my hand and, shortly before we started to board the plane, I managed to work up the courage to reach out and give it to her.

As I had feared she might, she became furious and began loudly listing off all the problems which had been caused by ‘organized religion’. Somehow, I managed to redirect the conversation onto God Himself only to discover another point of objection there.

She said, “I don’t appreciate you referring to God as ‘he’. That’s patriarchal oppression. I won’t be subject to any man!”

Like the corporal, the lady I met in the airport didn’t understand what leadership was supposed to look like.

With a silent prayer for the right words, I replied. “It is oppressive for someone to exert authority in order to force others to serve them and I agree that men can and have done that. But I don’t think that’s just because they’re men. I think it’s because those men didn’t know how to lead. A true leader takes the lowest place and seeks to serve and protect those under his authority.”

Looking surprised instead of mad, she said. “No one leads like that!”

The General

The general viewed leadership as a place of privilege – but not in the same way as the corporal had.

If anyone could have avoided the dangerous, unpleasant job of repairing the cage of the gabion it was him. If anyone had a claim on the safety of the trenches, it was him. Instead, General Gordon willingly climbed up the ladder and into the heat of enemy fire.

In a time of challenge and controversy, he knew it was the leader, not the private, who should take the lowest place. He knew the privilege of authority is found, not in the benefits to oneself, but in the opportunity to serve those under your charge.

General Charles Gordon led like that.

But I didn’t tell the lady at the airport the story of General Gordon. I didn’t say, “Some men do. Here’s one example…” Rather, when she said, “No one leads like that!” I said, “God does!” and explained to her that Jesus took the lowest place and washed his disciple’s feet. That He died to save us from our sins.

Jesus was the first General to selflessly lead his troops. General Charles Gordon was simply following in His footsteps.

In Conclusion

I, like the British troops, am too easily pitted against my fellow soldiers. I am often tempted to misuse the opportunity to lead. But thankfully, my General isn’t like me. He shows me by example that true leaders seek the good of those under their authority, not their own good at the expense of those around them.

My eyes are on the gabion watching my General repair the cage.

The lowest position has already been taken by Jesus Christ. Yet He has said, “You call Me Teacher and Lord, and you say well, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.” (John xiii. 13-14, NKJV)

His action, like General Gordon’s, was meant to be an example.

In Christ

Quiana