I have always been a sucker for history stories, and Scotland is full of them. The story of “Bonnie Prince Charlie” and his attempt to restore the throne to his father in 1745 is one of the most famous in Scotland. His “rising” had an immense impact on the nation’s history, and just about every image you see of Scotland is influenced by his story–or at least the way it has been told.

The entire story is rather epic, and it is no wonder that the tale has captured the imagination of historians, novelists, and kings. It eventually narrows down to two princes fighting one another on behalf of each father’s claim to the same crown. It has moments of desperation, heroism, self-sacrifice, courage, duplicity, honor and brutality. It’s both tragic and triumphant, and there’s no way I would attempt to cover the whole thing in a single blog post. But tucked away in a small part of the grand, sweeping epic, I stumbled across a piece in particular that caught my attention, and in order to share this lesser-known piece, I need to share at least a bit of background for those of you who haven’t encountered the wider tale. So here goes (and please forgive the broad strokes):

Prince Charles Edward Stuart arrived in Scotland in 1745, anxious to unseat the current British government and return his father, James, to the throne. From the islands to the highlands, the prince gathered soldiers. Not everyone was enthusiastic about his “Jacobite” cause. They’d seen attempts like this before. But when his small force crushed the redcoat army of Sir John Cope in a mere 20 minutes, his ranks began to swell.

Still, many were unconvinced that Prince Charles presented any sort of real threat. One victory over the vaunted British army might have been a fluke, after all. However, when his forces won again at Falkirk and the British army fled the field in disarray, panic and fear spread among those who opposed him and his Jacobites. Adding to his mystique, newspapers told of the terror of facing a “Highland charge.” Scottish Highland soldiers would advance quickly toward the enemy, fire their muskets in a devastating volley, then charge through the resulting wall of smoke with sword and Targe (a round shield), pushing aside defenses and hacking their enemies to pieces with brutal ease and terrifying speed.

Britain recalled soldiers from overseas and placed Prince William, Duke of Cumberland, in charge of putting together an army to defeat Prince Charles Stuart. But how could the twice defeated redcoat infantrymen hope to hold against the charge that had undone two previous armies? How could they keep from meeting the same fate? The Duke of Cumberland gathered his forces in Aberdeen. He would have nine weeks to prepare his British army before marching out to meet the Jacobites on Culloden moor.

After the battle of Culloden in 1746, the Westminster Journal published an article explaining how the British army drilled to fight against the Highland charge. Since a Jacobite soldier could deflect a bayonet with his Targe and then easily cut down the British infantryman, a radical new defense was practiced. According to the article, British infantrymen were told to ignore the Jacobite in front of them. Instead of thrusting at the person attacking from the front, the infantryman was to attack the enemy to his right–the one swinging a sword at his neighbor. This would bypass that enemy’s Targe and put the tip of the bayonet under his upraised sword arm, theoretically killing him before he could complete his attack. In this way, each infantryman was responsible for the life of the man next to him. Again and again this tactic was practiced with the Grenadiers (usually the biggest men in the British army) standing in for Jacobite Highlanders.

On the morning of the 16th of April 1745, Prince Charles Stuart and his Jacobite force stood across Culloden moor from Prince William, Duke of of Cumberland and his force. After an exchange of artillery fire, Prince Charles gave the order to attack. After marching all through the night, the Highland charge was slowed by boggy terrain, and many of the tired and hungry Jacobites had discarded their shields to lighten their load. The British line buckled but held, and Prince Charles Stuart’s Jacobite army was crushed in a single hour of vicious fighting.

It would be inappropriate to say that the 9 weeks of practice made the difference for the British army at Culloden. In fact, there is question about whether the drill mentioned in the Westminster Journal ever actually happened. But in his book Culloden: Battle & Aftermath, author Paul O’Keeffe argues that the psychological impact of such drilling would still have been significant. In addition to offering hope that the Highland charge could be defeated, “it would have instilled trust in the individual soldier for his comrades in the line, especially the one to his left.”

The idea that someone is looking out for you is powerful. When you or I face moments of terrible distress and imminent threat, it is much more bearable if we have someone to stand beside us. The wise man of Ecclesiastes says, “Two are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. If one person falls, the other can reach out and help.” I am filled with a sort of wonder and awe at those who have stood next to me–either trusting me or guarding me–and I am grateful for them.

But guarding one another in times of difficulty takes practice. It requires we be diligent and alert. Like the infantryman in the story, it also means that we ourselves become vulnerable. It means that our well-being is in another person’s hands. This, of course, leads to moments when we feel abandoned and forgotten, when we feel that there is no one looking out for our left side! Ironically, we aren’t alone in this isolation–David felt this way when his friends turned on him in the ruins of Ziklag, and Samson felt this way after his people tied him up and handed him over to his enemies. Christ himself called out, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”

Yet Jesus also made this promise in John 10: “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me…No one can snatch them away from me, for my Father has given them to me, and he is more powerful than anyone else. No one can snatch them from the Father’s hand.” As alone as you or I feel, we cannot be snatched from the loving hand of God. The Divine itself stands in the final place to our left, the cornerstone of our line.