To enumerate all the noble deeds that have been done by the aid of the weapon that King Charles II. introduced, in 1672, would be a matter of almost impossibility; all enemies have trembled before it when in the hands of Britons. It made the greatest General and Conqueror of Europe tremble on the field of Waterloo, when he saw his Old Guard[30] driven back by ours and the 52nd; they had been victorious in a hundred fights, but even they, grim-faced veterans as they were, had to bow before the British conquering bayonet.
Let us do justice, and give honour to whom honour is due. Some of the most desperate deeds have been performed in all ages by our thin red line, and the proudest and haughtiest of Adam’s race have had to give up the palm to our matchless Infantry. In the hour of need it has been repeatedly proved—whether in the midst of the raging billows of the fathomless ocean, or on land when opposed by mounted squadrons glittering in steel-clad armour, or when manning field guns or heavy ordnance, or storming the deadly breaches—that all, Europeans or Asiatics, have had to acknowledge the sons of Albion, side by side with the heroic sons of the Emerald Isle, the bravest of the brave.
The following will, perhaps, startle some of my readers; but facts are stubborn things, and stronger than fiction. During the battle of Fuentes de Oñoro, fought May 3rd and 5th, 1811, our Cavalry had to give way before the overwhelming steel-clad squadrons of France, and Captain Norman Ramsay’s battery of Horse Artillery was cut off, through not obeying his instructions. The French Cuirassiers were checked in mad career, and squadron after squadron rolled up by our Infantry, that had, to all appearance, taken root in the earth. But the gallant Norman Ramsay and the whole of his battery, were prisoners of war. To quote the fiery language of Napier, “Suddenly a great commotion was observed in the main body of the enemy. Men and horses were seen to close, with confusion and tumult, towards one point; there was a thick dust and loud cries, sparkling of sword-blades and flashing of pistols, indicating some extraordinary occurrence; when suddenly the multitude became violently agitated; an English shout of triumph pealed high and clear; the mass of the enemy was rent asunder, and lo, Captain Norman Ramsay burst forth, sword in hand, at the head of his battery, his horses breathing fire, stretched like greyhounds along the plain, the guns bounding behind them like things of no weight, and the mounted gunners following close, with heads bent low and pointed weapons, in desperate career.” This conduct of the gallant Ramsay, and his no less willing troopers, completely bewildered the enemy, as he dashed through them and at once brought his guns into action to support our hard-pressed Cavalry.
The conquering sword of Wellington was in the ascendant. The hitherto victorious legions of France had been taught some awkward lessons. On the fields of Roliça, Vimiera, Busaco, Corunna, at the Douro, at the lines of Torres Vedras, on the memorable fields of Talavera, grim Busaco’s iron ridge, and on the field of Fuentes de Oñoro, Napoleon’s maxim was again and again verified, viz., that moral strength in war is to physical strength as three to one. He that had subdued the whole continent of Europe proved, on the memorable field of Waterloo, the truth of his own maxim, for our Cavalry on that field rode through and through his veterans, though mounted and clad in glittering steel, and even the grim-faced Old Guards had to bow before our conquering swords and bayonets, directed by the master-mind of the conqueror of Assaye.
“Nothing could stop the astonishing Infantry!” I feel a soldier’s pride in again jotting down this line, as the words have reference to the headlong charge of the Royal Fusiliers and the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, in chasing the whole French army off the blood-stained Heights of Albuera, with the bayonet. But all the brave sons of Albion were not in those two noble regiments—the 3rd Buffs, the 31st, and the 57th, nobly stood forth; while the 3rd and 57th died almost to a man, so to speak, and then would not yield. It was on this field that the 57th gained their present nickname (the “die-hards”). Their Colonel, noticing the overwhelming numbers of the enemy all around them, called out in a voice of thunder, “Fifty-seventh, let us die hard;” and so they did. The battle only lasted four hours, but out of 580 that they went into action with, they left upon the field, 22 officers and 430 men. The Buffs were almost annihilated, but they would not give in.[31] Fifteen thousand poor fellows lay upon that dreadful field, and nearly all had fallen by the bayonet. It was the thin red line that decided the battle. Again, the bayonet decided the field of Barrosa, the 87th Royal Irish Fusiliers ending it in a very summary way, with a headlong charge, led on by Colonel Gough (afterwards Field-Marshal Lord Gough). Almost every battle that Lord Wellington fought, in India, Spain, Portugal, France, and the Netherlands, was decided by that nasty little bit of cold steel. At Inkermann, if the enemy had not fired a shot, but simply marched on, they would have walked over us—weight of numbers would have done it; but there again the ugly cold steel stood in the way. Not all the persuading of their princes or officers, high and low, could induce them to come on and finish us off; they wanted to stand and fire at us, but did not like to have any closer acquaintance with us. But that would not do; they would have shot down every man of us; so we kept going at them, and giving them hints that we did not require them in our camp. At length, with a desperate charge, a very great number (from 2,000 to 4,000) were hurled over a precipice, almost perpendicular, and perished. It was the Zouaves, side by side with our people, who put them over this nasty place; or they must have been mobbed over by their own comrades in trying to avoid our conquering bayonets. After peace was proclaimed, I went into the Valley of the Tchernaya, and, true enough, there they lay in hundreds—they had never been buried. Some of our men found medals still hanging to their clothing. The bones of many of them had been bleached, but still lay there—evidences of the horrors of war. Sebastopol, after 1,600,000 shot and shell had been fired at it, had to be carried by the bayonet, and it was done with a terrible slaughter. Lucknow, after having been twice relieved, was finally taken by that never-failing weapon. The supremacy of Old England has frequently been left in the hands of a few desperate men. Our power in the far East has in more than one or two instances trembled in the balance. This was the case on the memorable field of Ferozeshah, December 21-2, 1845; but it was in the hands of men who knew how to die. Lord Gough commanded, well supported by the hero of Albuera—Lord Hardinge, and that Christian hero, Havelock, was there encouraging his men. All had to be left to the bayonet to shift the Sikhs from their formidable intrenchments. Again the supremacy of Old England hung in the balance on the heights in front of Delhi. But at the deadly breach, at the Cashmere Gate, that ugly piece of cold steel again settled all. It was too much for the black-hearted murderers of defenceless women and children, although they knew they had no mercy to expect. At Tel-el-Kebir, the Egyptians were soon shifted by the same means, and the trenches and batteries that they had thrown up with so much labour were made a little too hot for them. In fact it is as I have repeatedly called it, the “queen of weapons,” and will be so as long as we have an enemy to face.
COURAGE DOES NOT COURT DANGER NEEDLESSLY.
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A valiant man Ought not to undergo or court a danger, But worthily, and by selected ways, He undertakes by reason, not by chance. His valour is the salt t’his other virtues They’re all unseasoned without it. Johnson. |
This chapter could be extended to the dimensions of a large volume. Our forefathers have repeatedly stood as conquerors on many a hard-fought field. Battles have been lost by bad generalship or by reason of the overwhelming numbers of the enemy, and then won back by determined pluck. And surely it could be said of those who fought on the memorable fields of Alma, Balaclava, and Inkermann, that they had not degenerated from those who fought and conquered under the great dukes of Marlborough and Wellington! The same may be said of those who upheld England’s honour, under Nelson, Gough, Brown, Picton, Crawford, Campbell, Raglan, Evans, Burgoyne, Graham, Jones, Havelock, Lake, Baird, Olpherts, Windham, Hodson, and Hills. And, reader, we have now as good men to lead us as ever our forefathers had; a number of them have already shown to the world the metal they are made of, and—
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That nothing could daunt, nothing dismay, These island warriors of this day Through all the changes of the fray, No matter how the battle sped, Unbroken stands that line of red, Majestically firm. That conquering thin line, Yea, that line of red that never yields! Victorious on two hundred fields. |