The Story of the British Army

by Charles Cooper King

Here, when the Spanish broke, was moved Colborne’s Division, one brigade of which had three of its regiments, the 3rd, 66th, and 48th, almost destroyed, and only the 31st had time to form square. There was bitter fighting, round the colours of the Buffs especially, and confusion reigned supreme for a moment in the right wing. But soon the 29th pressed into the fight, and on them the Spaniards somewhat rallied. As their colonel, Duckworth, fell, he cried, “Die hard, my men, die hard!” whence comes their honoured nickname of the “Die-hards.” Richly they deserved it, for out of 25 officers 22 fell, of 570 rank and file 425 were killed or wounded, and the king’s colour bore thirty bullet wounds.[41]

The battle was almost lost when Colonel Hardinge on his own responsibility called up Cole’s Brigades, one of which was composed of the 7th and 23rd Fusilier Regiments, and thrust him into the confused fight on the right, while Allen turned round to regain Albuhera, which had been abandoned. The fresh reinforcements were irresistible, though the fire was terrible. “The Fusilier Battalion, struck by the iron tempest, reeled and staggered like sinking ships; but, suddenly and sternly recovering, they closed on their terrible enemies, and then was seen with what a strength and majesty the British soldier fights. In vain did Soult with voice and gesture animate his Frenchmen, in vain did the hardiest veterans break from the crowded columns and sacrifice their lives to gain time for the mass to open out on such a fair field; in vain did the mass itself bear up, and, fiercely striving, fire indiscriminately upon friends and foes, while the horsemen, hovering on the flank, threatened to charge the advancing line. Nothing could stop that astonishing infantry. No sudden burst of undisciplined valour, no nervous enthusiasm weakened the stability of their order; their flashing eyes were bent on the dark columns on their front, their measured tread shook the ground, their dreadful volleys swept away the head of every formation, their deafening shouts overpowered the dissonant cries that broke from all parts of the tumultuous crowd, as, slowly, and with a horrid carnage, it was pushed by the incessant vigour of the attack to the farthest edge of the hill. In vain did the French reserves mix with the struggling multitude to sustain the fight, their efforts only increased the irremediable confusion; and the mighty mass, breaking off like a loosened cliff, went headlong down the steep.”

The losses of individual regiments were enormous. In the 23rd so many officers had fallen that Corporal Robinson brought his captain’s company out of action; and the 57th left on the field 23 officers and 400 men out of a total of 570. For this it bears the laurel wreath, only carried by the six Minden regiments.

So victory remained with the Allies, though little aid had been given by the Spaniards. The French retreated on Seville in fair order, having captured several colours, one gun, and some prisoners. Albuhera was essentially a soldiers’ battle. It was won by sheer hard fighting.

The army now turned to renew the siege of Badajoz, the capture of which, as well as Ciudad, was essential for further offensive operations. But though several daring efforts were made to storm the breaches made, the siege had to be raised on the approach of the combined forces of Marmont and Soult.

After much manœuvring, marching, and counter-marching on both sides, during which, at the brilliant little affair of El Bodon, the 5th charged the French cavalry with fire and bayonet; and at Arroyo des Molinos, where Girard was surprised by Hill, who, after a forced march, made a night attack, and the 92nd stormed the village to the somewhat appropriate tune of “Hey, Johnny Cope, are ye waukin’ yet.” The brilliant action resulted in the dispersal of the corps, with the loss of all its artillery, baggage, and military chest, at a cost of but a few killed and wounded; but though the 9th and 13th Light Dragoons, as well as the 92nd, 50th, 71st, and 34th took part in the action, only the standards of the last-named regiment bear the name of Arroyo des Molinos, the sole case of a battle not a general action being inscribed on the colours. For capturing the 34th Battalion of French infantry there, the 34th long wore a red and white pompon; and it is said, when the French battalion surrendered, the French officers embraced their English confrères with the words, “Ah, messieurs, nous sommes des frères, nous sommes du trente-quatrième régiment tous deux. Vous êtes des braves. Les Anglais se battent toujours avec loyauté et traitent bien leurs prisonniers.”

There were skirmishes elsewhere, as at Tarifa, where the 47th, 87th, and 95th Regiments successively defended the breach, and where the 13th Light Dragoons, the 28th, 34th, 50th, 71st, and 92nd Regiments were engaged; but this was only preparatory to the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz, both of which were stormed, and fell. Their capture, with the seizure of the bridge of Alcantara (which improved the communications) and the destruction of that of Almanza (which severed the direct communication between Marmont and Soult), finally opened the doorway into Spain. In the attack on Ciudad the 5th, 43rd, 45th, 52nd, 60th, 74th, 77th, 83rd, 88th, 94th, and Rifle Brigade shared, and the men plunged into wild excesses in the sack which followed, and which the officers seemed powerless to check. It cost the Allies a total loss of 1702, including Crawford of the Light Division, who was killed, while Colborne, Gurwood (who afterwards edited the Wellington Despatches), and Major George Napier, all of the 52nd, were wounded. But Marmont’s siege train was captured.

At Badajoz, whither Wellington had proceeded after Fuentes, curiously enough the garrison was never summoned to surrender—an omission for which many French writers unreservedly blame him, as being an act contrary to the usages of war, and savouring of a feeling of revenge. Be that as it may, the place was invested on the 17th March, while Hill covered the siege against Soult, and on the 7th April was stormed, with the terrible loss of nearly 5000 men. The defence was most gallant and desperate. For two hours the storming column tried in vain to mount the principal breach, defended by mines, chevaux de frise of sword-blades, and a close fire of musketry, grape, and hand-grenades, and then fell back sullenly to re-form. But, as in other cases, though this the “real attack” had failed, the “false attack” had succeeded, and the 4th, followed by other regiments, penetrated into the town by escalade. So the place surrendered, and its fall was succeeded by a butchery more dreadful than that of Ciudad. Men were “literally drowned in brandy.” Soldiers and camp—followers behaved equally disgracefully. For two days and nights there seems to have been no check to the horrors. There was nothing but “shameless rapacity, brutal intemperance, savage lust, cruelty and murder. Shrieks and piteous lamentations, groans, shouts, imprecations, the hissing of fires bursting from the houses, the crashing of doors and windows, and the reports of muskets used in violence, resounded through the town.”

The plan of the siege itself was by no means a brilliant effort of genius, and the cost in human life serious. But for the fortunate action of the 4th, the storming column must have retired with a loss of 3500 men, having effected nothing. The only excuse for the storm of so strong a place after so brief and imperfect a siege was the necessity for breaking open this doorway into Spain. The end was believed at the time to have justified the means, no matter how horrible. The best excuse is, that the British army was too weak to mask it, dared not delay for a prolonged siege, which might have led to a French concentration in overwhelming numbers, and could not pass it by. It was the old argument of necessity. The regiments who shared in the honours and dishonours of Badajoz were the 4th, 5th, 7th, 23rd, 27th, 30th, 38th, 40th, 43rd, 44th, 45th, 48th, 52nd, 60th, 74th, 77th, 83rd, 88th, 94th, and Rifle Brigade.

The affairs of Almanza and Alcantara have been already referred to, and other means were now taken to distract the attention of the French. The guerillas, more and more exasperated, renewed their efforts at annoyance, and never were they more successful. It is even said it took some thousands of men to escort a simple despatch! Under cover of all this, Wellington moved on Salamanca, and after a brief delay captured the forts the French had erected to guard the town, and pushed forward to the Douro, behind which Marmont had retired, holding all the passages. Then came a series of brilliant manœuvres, in which the French general once marched fifty miles without a check, and finally sought to turn the Allied right, so as to seize the road to Ciudad Rodrigo. Both armies for many hours marched parallel to, and within sight of, one another, and so marked was the early success of the French in this manœuvring, that on the 21st, Wellington had more than half decided to retreat. But the next day fortune favoured him. Marmont, in his anxiety to close the Ciudad road, overreached himself, the left wing got separated from the right, and Wellington, seizing the opportunity, poured in at the gap, and in forty minutes the French left wing was badly beaten; and but that the Spanish had abandoned the guard of the Alba ford, the whole army must have been to all intents and purposes destroyed. Many regiments, both of horse and foot, shared in the glories of the battle of Salamanca. It was the most skilful of any of Wellington’s victories, as showing a tactical appreciation of the situation, which is often not so apparent elsewhere. He understood the selection of a good position, and how to encourage the fighting power of his men, to which, in most cases, the success of his battle may be chiefly attributed. At Salamanca, though he behaved with skill, the adversaries’ mistake was so glaring as to be apparent to a general of far meaner capacity.