Battle Honours.—The Sphinx, superscribed Egypt. Mysore, Mangalore, Seringapatam, Corunna, Fuentes d'Onoro, Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula, Waterloo, S. Africa 1846-47, 1851-53, Alma, Sevastopol, Lucknow, Ashantee, Egypt 1882-84, Tel-el-Kebir, Nile 1884-85, Kirbekan, S. Africa 1899-1902, Paardeberg.
Uniform.—Regular and Reserve Batts., scarlet and blue facings.
[The 1st Battn. was first formed from the independent companies raised in 1729 from the Highland clans, and received the name of Black Watch from the hue of its tartan. The newly-formed regiment greatly distinguished itself at Fontenoy and against the French in N. America. At Ticonderoga it lost 25 officers, 19 sergeants, and 603 rank and file in killed and wounded, and received the title of Royal Highlanders in recognition of its bravery. The 2nd Battn., raised in 1780, became a separate regiment in 1786, and it was this Battn. a detachment of which was in the wreck of the Birkenhead. The Black Watch gained the red hackle during the campaign in Flanders (1794-95). The 42nd was one of the four regiments mentioned in dispatches after Waterloo. The 2nd Battn. was at Magersfontein in 1899, where it lost 19 officers and over 300 killed and wounded. This regiment has a record which is only equalled by one or two regiments in the British Army.]
THE MANCHESTER REGIMENT
("The Bloodsuckers")
"Shew me a well authenticated instance of the troops of any other nation gaining and holding an 'impossible' position against fearful odds, and I will shew you a wavering in, or, at least, a qualification of, our national faith that our allied British infantry is the best in the world."—French Daily Newspaper, August, 1914.
It was at Elandslaagte that the 1st Battalion of this gallant regiment, together with the Gordon Highlanders and the Light Horse, distinguished themselves in a terrible passage of arms. The following graphic account is taken down from the words of a soldier who went through that terrible affair:
"It was nearly five o'clock on that day," he said, "when it seemed to be growing curiously dark. And we soon saw the reason. As our men moved forward the heavens opened, and from the eastern sky swept a sheet of rain. With the first stabbing drops the horses turned their heads, and no whip or spur could bring them up to it. It drove through our mackintoshes as if they were blotting-paper; the air was filled with a hissing sound, and underfoot you could see the solid earth pounded into mud, and the mud flowing away in streams of slush. The rain blotted out hill and dale and enemy in one great curtain of swooping water. You would have said that the heavens had opened to drown the wrath of man.
"Through it the guns still thundered, and the khaki column pushed doggedly on. The infantry got among the boulders and began to open out. The supports and reserves followed. Then, in a twinkling, on the stone-pitted hill-face, burst loose another storm—a storm of lead and death. In the first line, down behind the rocks, the men were firing fast, and the bullets came pelting round them. The men stooped, and staggered, and dropped limply, as if a string that held them upright had been cut. The line pushed on, and the colonel fell, shot in the arm.
"The regiment pursued their way until they came to a rocky ledge twenty feet high. Here they clung to cover, firing, then rose, and were among the shrill bullets again. A major was left at the bottom of the ridge with a pipe in his mouth, and a Mauser bullet through his leg. His company rushed on. Onwards and upwards—down, fire again—up again, and on. Another ridge won and passed, and only one more hellish hail of bullets beyond. More men down. More men hurried forward into the firing line—more death-piping bullets than ever. The air was a sieve of them; they came with unceasing ping, and beat on the boulders like a million hammers; they ploughed the rocks and tore the turf like harrows. Another ridge crowned, another whistling gust of perdition. More men down; more men pushing into the firing line. Half the officers killed or wounded—the men panted and stumbled on—another ridge taken! God! would this cursed hill never end? It was sown with bleeding and dead behind us; it was edged with stinging fire before. 'Fix bayonets!' Staff officers rushed up, urging the men on. There was now no line, only a surging wave. Devonshires, Gordon Highlanders, Manchester, and Light Horse all mixed—subalterns commanding regiments, soldiers yelling advice, officers firing carbines—all stumbling, leaping, killing, falling—all drunk with battle. At length we gained the ridge, and saw the Boer camp below. The Boers were galloping out of it helter skelter, with Lancers and Dragoon Guards spearing and stamping them into the ground. Suddenly we heard the bugle call 'Cease fire!' and, wondering slightly at such an order at such a time, we began to retire. But we were soon met by a boy bugler rushing forward, who, in reply to our remarks about the order, yelled, 'Cease fire be damned!' And then we discovered that the Boers, who had learnt our bugle calls, had blown the blast. On this, we turned about, charged again, and so made good the battle of Elandslaagte."