Salamanca 1812- Wellington’s Year of Victories

by Peter Edwards

  The final straw came, however, from their left flank, where the Portuguese had begun to run first, for by now Pack had been chased away from the Greater Arapile, and Bonnet could safely erupt from its rear with the nine battalions of the 118th, 119th and 122nd Ligne – over 4,000 men – into Cole’s left. The 500 men of the 7th Caçadores were simply overwhelmed. Next to be charged was the Portuguese 23rd Line. Captain Philip Bainbrigge, DAQMG of the Division wrote:

  A column of French Grenadiers with hairy caps from the right of their line came on at a run with drums beating, and charged the left of the Portuguese, taking them obliquely in the flank. Nothing could be better done on the part of the French. The Portuguese gave way like a wave of the sea, first on their left, then by degrees all the way to the right. It then became a question of whether the Fusiliers would stand it, but, finding their friends on the left gone, a tremendous fire directed upon them in front, and the victorious French column coming on with shouts on their left flank, taking them also in flank, and perceiving that their own fire did not bear upon these fellows close to them, they, in like manner, gave way.

  Help, however, was on its way. The speed with which Clinton’s 6th Division got up can only be accounted for by Wellington’s ordering him forward before the disasters of Cole and Pack became visible. This is confirmed in the 61st’s Digest of Service. Rather like his anticipatory genius at Talavera, when the 48th were ordered down off the Medellin to plug the gap about to be left by the over-keen Guards, this gift of near-second sight was priceless. For Clausel, now of course commanding the French army, was suddenly presented with an opportunity. It would not even the score, still less could it turn a partial defeat into an overall victory, but limited glory of a splendidly Napoleonic nature beckoned. Not for him the careful extraction of his mauled divisions during this pause, with 6,000 red and brown coats turning their backs on him, he was not going to slip away into the woods. He was like the boxer whose left arm, having been shattered, hangs loose. Yet his right flashes an upper cut of precise accuracy, and forces his opponent to step back. Does he take the opportunity to seek his corner, and a breather? Or does he follow the upper cut with more right arm jabs, and hope for the best? He is a French General! He goes forward!

  So he calls for Sarrut to shield the broken divisions of Thomières and Maucune; he calls forward Ferey to his own support in rear; he calls forward Boyer’s Dragoons to support the right of Bonnet, and he and Bonnet set off down the slopes in pursuit of Pack and Cole, 11,000 men and 1,200 horse.

  Colonel Delancey said to me ‘For God’s sake bring up the 6th Division as fast as possible’, then dashed in amongst the Portuguese, seized the colour of one of the regiments and endeavoured to rally them. I galloped off to the rear, as to restoring order and reforming the regiment it required some time and the work of regimental officers.

  Phillip Bainbrigge and the acting QMG were behind the 4th Division when they ran: ‘They gave way like a wave of the sea; I can compare it to nothing else. My heart was in my mouth, and they all came down into the hollow in the rear, where they halted.’ A thousand or more troopers of Boyer’s 6th, 11th and 25th Dragoons quickly got in among the tail end of Cole’s men, those slow to reach the advancing 6th Division, and were ahead of Bonnet’s 118th, 119th and 122nd Ligne. Going in the other direction, the 6th Division passed through in two lines of columns, Hinde’s Brigade of the 2nd (Queen’s Royals), 1st/32nd (Cornwall) and 1st/36th (Herefords) on the right, with Hulse’s Brigade of the 1st/11th (Devons), 2nd/53rd (Shropshires) and 1st/61st (Gloucesters) on the left, with the 2nd/53rd the flank battalion. The Portuguese Brigade under Rezende were in rear. The Division was in the process of forming line from their columns when the fugitives, mixed up with their pursuers, arrived. Major Frederick Newman of the 11th:

  Our brigade advanced in contiguous columns ascending a rising ground, you may recollect that, just before we reached the top, the 4th Division came over in a state of disorder, the enemy close upon them, the French officers in advance, and actually making use of their swords against our retreating men: our brigade was immediately halted and began to deploy. By the time three companies had formed, the portion of the 4th Division opposite to the 11th passed round the right flank; these companies at once opened their fire and swept away nearly the whole of those officers; this checked them, and after some firing they turned about and fled . . . The brigade now advanced in line, and when we rose the hill a body of French cavalry was coming up at a hand canter, either to cover their retreating infantry, or to put a finishing hand to the 4th Division; we at once halted and gave them a volley which sent these cavaliers to the rightabout in much quicker time than they came, leaving several horses and men on the ground.

  The French dragoons were much luckier to the left of the 11th, with the 2nd/53rd, whose adjutant Lieutenant John Carss wrote three days later that they were:

  A little from the division, to support a pass in order to prevent the enemy from flanking us. We had fired about 10 rounds . . . when about two or three hundred of the enemy’s cavalry supported by infantry made a charge and totally surrounded us. They called out ‘Surrender’. We answered ‘No’. Our brave fellows kept up such a blaze on them that in about five minutes we drove them off after killing and wounding nearly one half; in this charge we had about five officers wounded and about 40 rank and file killed and wounded. We formed line and advanced.

  One does not, from this brief description of what is, after all, an exceedingly rare event – that of being surrounded – quite grasp the near disaster he experienced.

  Carss’ commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel George Bingham, paints a more chaotic picture, including his own heroic if extremely desperate attempt to rally part of his battalion. It seemed to involve riding through Boyer’s dragoons while carrying his Regimental Colour:

  We were attacked by the enemy’s Heavy Dragoons; we retired in good order, in line, and twice stopped their advance by halting and firing. At last a circular rocky hill, about two hundred yards in the rear, offered an advantage; I determined to profit by it; the Dragoons being too near, and the ranks too much thinned to attempt a square, we made a dash for the hill. The Dragoons came thundering on the rear, and reached the hill just as our people faced about. The fire checked them and it was soon obvious that they would make no impression. At this moment I saw a part of the Regiment which had not reached the rock, running down the hill in great confusion, without however being pursued by the Dragoons. Giving the charge of the hill to Mansell, I dashed through the Dragoons, who made way for me, and succeeded in rallying the men round the Regimental Colour that I had with me. The several attacks of the Dragoons on the mass failed, although at one time they seized the end of the King’s Colour, and there was a struggle who should have it; when a sergeant of grenadiers wrested it from the Dragoon who held it, or rather tore the silk from the pole, while I rather think remained with the enemy; at the same time our people gained ground on the right, and the Dragoons retired in confusion.

  Bingham chose the Regimental Colour to take so hazardously to his stragglers since, (apart from the small Union flag in the corner and a wreath with the regimental number) it comprised just their facing colour, that is a large six feet by six and a half feet of solid red. There was no other red Regimental Colour in the 6th Division, so his men would know it from afar, and close upon it. There would be no point his taking the King’s Colour which, of course, was the Union flag common to all regiments. If Bingham did indeed use the Regimental Colour in this way, and had first to take it to his men through the enemy, it was a remarkable and surely unique return to the medieval purpose of coloured standards. Bingham presumably succeeded in concentrating his battalion on the rocky hill, and that would be where the pole and some silk of the King’s Colour was lost. Surrounded by cavalry, it really does sound a bit like Custer’s Last Stand. His regiment suffered forty per cent casualties. The Shropshires would remember Salamanca.

  Another battalion which seemed semi-indepe
ndent in the chaos on the left was William Anson’s 1st/40th. Kept back originally to assist its fellow battalion 3rd/27th in holding the Lesser Arapile, like the 7th Caçadores it was apparently sent forward into the space between Pack and Cole, possibly to extricate the former. Isolated, it was caught by Bonnet. John Scott Lillie of the Caçadores wrote:

  I happened to be at the time with some companies of the Caçadores and the 40th Regiment . . . This was one of the few occasions on which I saw the bayonet used; the 40th under the late Colonel Archdall, having come into close contact with Bonnet’s French brigade in consequence of this movement, which was directed by General William Anson in person; he was moving on with the 40th, leaving the [Greater Arapiles] on his left and in his rear, on which a corps moved from behind the hill in rear of the 40th for the purpose of attacking it, the regiment being at the time engaged in front. I happened to be between the 40th and the enemy, and rode after the former to tell Colonel Archdall of his situation, on which he wheeled round and charged the enemy’s column with the bayonet and this terminated the contest at that point.

  This is a snapshot, typical of a confused situation, in seemingly describing a battalion ‘being . . . engaged in front’ which yet successfully charged to its rear. Another source later has the 40th back with the 27th, having suffered 132 casualties.

  Quite who threw back Bonnet’s nine battalions and Boyer’s dragoons remains unclear. It can scarcely have been just Hinde and Hulse’s five British battalions (the 2nd/53rd were effectively out of action). One possibility is that Coles’s remnants rallied and reformed, once Clinton had passed through. John Burgogne certainly thinks so:

  No sooner had they arrived at the bottom, than they came to their senses, and were furious with themselves for having allowed the enemy to gain the advantage. In about five minutes, they were formed in perfect order at a short distance below, and they then re-ascended the hill most gallantly, and drove the French down the other side as quickly as they themselves had been driven before.

  But as we shall see it was again Clausel that they returned, not against Bonnet. Another officer with the 7th confirms that ‘When we reached the valley, the shouting of the officers began to have an effect, particularly as everyone was out of breath.’ They were mixed up, different regiments, red and brown coats, and hastily formed joint squares as the dragoons swept down towards them – that’s when, the 6th Division passing forward, they were taunted with cries of ‘Be ashamed, Fusiliers!’ But while Bonnet’s supporting dragoons, like Le Marchant’s, had a clear run at retreating infantry, largely unformed, they had nothing like the same effectiveness. Perhaps this should be no surprise, considering the number of ill-drilled riding horses so recently pressed into service as chargers.

  William Grattan’s pen as ever catches the scene.

  It was nearly dark; and the great glare of light caused by the thunder of the artillery, the continued blaze of the musketry, and the burning grass, gave to the face of the hill a novel and terrific appearance: it was one vast sheet of flame, and Clinton’s men looked as if they were attacking a burning mountain, the crater of which was defended by a barrier of shining steel. But nothing could stop the intrepid valour of the 6th Division, as they advanced with a desperate resolution to carry the ill. The troops posted on the face of it to arrest their advance were trampled down and destroyed at the first charge, and each reserve sent forward to extricate them met with the same fate. Still Bonnet’s reserves, having attained their place in the fight, and the fugitives from Thomières’s division, joining them at the moment, prolonged the battle until dark. Those men, besmeared with blood, dust, and clay, half-naked, and some carrying only broken weapons, fought with a fury not to be surpassed; but their impetuosity was at length calmed by the bayonets of Clinton’s troops, and they no longer fought for victory but for safety. After a frightful struggle, they were driven from their last hold in confusion; and a general and overwhelming charge, which the nature of the ground enabled Clinton to make, carried this ill-formed mass of desperate soldiers before him, as a shattered wreck borne along by the force of some mighty current.

  Bonnet’s casualties were heavy, perhaps a third of his force or some 2,200 men, and in themselves easily enough for their commander to feel he had done his duty. He would see his neighbour – and now commander – Clausel had not seemingly kept pace on his left, having been headed by Marshal Beresford, who was fortuitously in rear of Leith’s 5th Division, and seized Spry’s Portuguese from the second line, turning them to face east and putting them at Clausel. Two oblique references, however, exist of what we might call difficulties, in inspiring an aggressive spirit in the Portuguese, possibly proven by their minimal casualties for the day’s work (6.7 per cent). It does not seem likely that it was the Portuguese who drove Clausel off. First, William Warre:

  It was near sunset, and in endeavouring to make a Portuguese Brigade charge the enemy, (who were driving the 4th Division back to 5 Battalions) in flank, that our excellent Marshal was wounded, while exerting himself, as he always does with the greatest zeal and gallantry, and by his noble example, to cover the 4th Division by this flank charge. But they soon rallied and regained the ground they had lost by the sudden attack of the enemy, and the heights were retaken just as the Marshal was hit.

  Then Lieutenant Thomas Browne, 23rd, who also confirms his Division had got back into the action, keen no doubt to make amends:

  The Portuguese Brigade of the 5th Division from being on the left took these Battalions of the enemy completely in flank; but there was so much hallooing that instead of charging they began firing which was as dangerous to the British as to the French. Marshal Beresford & his staff put a stop to this firing, and he was making a disposition to charge the enemy in flank, which these Regiments, the 3rd and 15th Portuguese were not very willing to try – a few companies made a sort of shabby charge which these French troops would scarcely have regarded but that the 4th Division again attacked & the 5th took them in rear. They then moved off & the greater part were killed or taken prisoners.

  Yet it is hard to see how the 2,000 or so British and 2,000 Portuguese of the 4th Division, having been chased three quarters of a mile back to their starting point, could then return up a hill, re-engage and beat nearly 5,000 Frenchmen, unassailed other than by another 2,000 apparently rather shy Portuguese on their flank. There is, however, a French description of British cavalry being involved and which, if true, provides the answer. Unfortunately, no other source confirms their presence. Yet why should old General Marquis Alphonse d’Hautpoul, ex-captain of the 59th Ligne fabricate?

  General Clausel, who was pursuing General Hill, [sic – Cole] seeing that his left was outflanked by numerous cavalry, halted his line and tried to form it in squares, but he lacked time, and his regiments, taken by surprise, were broken. General Hill, reinforced by a corps of Portuguese, resumed the offensives and a frightful melee ensued. At this moment I received from a Scottish sergeant – whom I’d just dealt a sabre blow – a musket ball in the hip and at the same time a bayonet which pierced my right arm. I fell covered in blood. A few moments after I received my two wounds the English cavalry rode over our line, taking it in the rear. Monsieur de Loverdo, my colonel, who had succeeded Colonel Caste, saved the regiment’s Eagle by carrying it at a gallop into the squares of Ferey’s division, behind which the debris of Clausel’s division tried to rally. Stretched on the ground I lay at the mercy of the enemy. During the charge, two squadrons passed over but the horses instinctively leapt over me. I saw their feet almost crush me: my position was critical, but I was powerless to do anything and had to resign myself.

  Never has the Peninsular historian lacked eyewitness accounts more painfully in this, the repulse of Bonnet and Clausel’s counter-attacks, the failure of which leads us to the closing stages of this remarkable battle, with a sense of frustration that all is not quite understood. The previous phases of Pakenham, Leith and Le Marchant, and indeed the earlier phases of Pack and Cole, are all rea
sonably intelligible; not so the French retrograde movements and what caused them. Yet maybe there was no one cause, any more than the counter-attack itself had a cause: commanders sometimes do just go with the flow of events. Opportunities present themselves, local commanders seize them. Bonnet and Boyer were not even necessarily ordered by Clausel to take the offensive movements that they made – we assume they were acting under orders, but perhaps they just did what seemed obvious. Similarly, there need not have been any one tactical success by the Allies on the lower slopes, whether occasioned by the 4th Division or the 6th or Beresford’s Portuguese or the British cavalry. Just the rising French casualty levels might have been sufficient message: we’ve had a go, done our best, it hasn’t worked, there’s chaos to our left, it’ll be dark soon, let’s call it a day.

  As to casualty figures, Bonnet’s and Clausel’s casualties were researched by Sir Charles Oman with the greatest care, but with a partially incomplete result: the following can best be described as his considered opinion, and the nearest anyone will ever get. Bonnet’s three regiments which sallied forth from the Greater Arapile each lost more than 500 men – a third of their strength. The 120th Ligne lost a similar proportion during their sojourn on the hill itself. Presumably the majority of their casualties were caused by allied gunfire, for apart from the brief trouncing of Pack’s Portuguese they are not thought to have stood in line musket-to-musket elsewhere; although when chasing the Portuguese down the northern slope they were engaged by Dyneley’s canister. Oman comments on the unusually low officer casualty figure for the 120th Ligne (eight out of sixty-three) which he describes as inexplicable disproportion’ to the 580 other ranks. Possibly the unusual feature was not being required to stand in the open in front of their men. He put Bonnet’s total loss at 2,200 men out of a starting strength of 238 officers and 6,283 other ranks. Clausel he thought totalled over 1,200 men, which is around nineteen per cent of his original 200 officers and 6,362 men.