found a long line of vultures on the battle-ground; these ill-omened birds stand quite erect, and might be mistaken by a distant spectator for a regiment drawn up in a single rank. Here was a fine field for them; the bodies of men and horses, which an attempt had been made to burn, lay everywhere in heaps, only half-consumed. After the action, wherever the carcase of a horse was found, such human bodies as had fallen near were collected and thrown over it, and these again were covered with branches of trees, which, being quite green, made too weak a fire to reduce them to ashes; consequently the air had become very offensive, and the whole scene was extremely revolting. A vast number of pigs, which had been driven hither by their owners, also roamed the field, and shared the loathsome feast with the vultures.
Modern readers, now well accustomed to the new system of repatriation of bodies back to Britain, with all the respect and ceremony rightly due, may raise an eyebrow at pyramids of massed half-burnt bodies, men and horses intermingled, littering yet another Spanish plain. It says much for the common view two centuries ago, essentially practical and unsentimental, to leave affairs to what has been called the Spanish national undertaker – the vulture. It is also perhaps relevant, in wondering whether the grateful Spanish citizens of Salamanca might themselves have done the decent thing by their allies, with picks and shovels, to recall that twenty years later 6,000 Spanish troops were quartered in the town for two months, yet ‘Not one man or officer had ever been to visit the battlefield.’ (Richard Ford, 1832) It will be interesting to discover how the civic authorities of Salamanca in 2012 propose to mark the 200th anniversary of the battle, if at all.
CHAPTER 16
Salamanca Garcia Hernandez 23 July 1812
The most dashing and successful attack made by any of Wellington‘s
cavalry during the whole war.
Oman
The name of Garcia Hernandez will always be included amongst the
great achievements of cavalry in the history of the world.
Fortescue
I have never witnessed a more gallant charge.
Wellington
Major-General Eberhard, Baron Bock commanded the 1st and 2nd Dragoons KGL. We do not know quite how many sabres he took forward next morning as part of Wellington’s advance guard – Tomkinson tells us Bock and Anson combined ‘did not amount to 800, being so weakened by detaching squadrons during the night’. Bock’s troopers had had a dismally quiet Wednesday on the Salamanca plain. With such good going underfoot it had been doubly frustrating to hear of Le Marchant’s glorious afternoon. His own men were equally eager to even things up, given half a chance. With not a single man or horse returned killed or wounded in the whole of the great battle of the 22nd, it is unlikely they were even involved, later that evening, in the obligatory charges which pushed back Foy’s rearguard. The Germans almost certainly were out to the left, not really in harm’s way, and then were finally on the road to the fords at Huerta, searching in vain for the Army of Portugal.
Next morning, it was five miles from the bivouac at Pelabravo to the fords south of Encinos; crossing there after first light they were brought down to join Wellington and Anson’s dragoon squadrons, who had crossed at Alba. The quantities of abandoned baggage and wounded, and the limping stragglers, clearly indicated the Army had used the road through Garcia Hernandez east towards Penaranda. Wellington, Anson and Bock converged on the former village around 2pm. The 1st and Light Divisions were some miles behind, the bulk of the army resting still.
Anson’s patrols reported French water parties at the village wells, a battery of horse artillery, a chasseur brigade, and various battalions both in the village and formed on the Penaranda road in rear. This was Foy’s division, the rearguard, and at the appearance of the horsemen, Foy clearly not proposing to argue, a general movement commenced to continue the withdrawal. The chasseurs moved to a covering position on slightly higher ground behind the village. They blocked Wellington’s line of sight, for in their rear were two of Foy’s four regiments, the 6th Léger and the 76th Ligne, drawn up a little to the flank on higher slopes – a rearguard to the rearguard – while the 39th and 69th Ligne legged it for all they were worth. Wellington immediately ordered Anson to charge the chasseurs with what was to hand, Bock’s dragoons being across to the left. Anson had four squadrons, two each of the 11th and 16th Light Dragoons, and went straight at the chasseurs, most of whom promptly turned tail on the spot, and in panic and confusion withdrew; but with two squadrons – doing the decent thing – moving a little up the slopes, as some protection to the 76th Ligne’s square.
Baron Bock now thundered onto the scene, doubtless squinting at the possibilities for glory (he was said to be very shortsighted). He was at the head of Captain Haltorff’s squadron, the first of three of the 1st Dragoons, crashing in column through a defile along the Caballero brook on the outskirts of the village. Emerging into open ground and seeing the two French squadrons, he went straight for them, forming line as they went, only to be hammered in the left flank by a volley from the unseen 76th. The two chasseur squadrons turned to join their fellows, pursued by Haltorff and Bock, whose second and third squadrons were similarly greeted with musketry from their left. Captain Gustavus von der Decken, commanding the third squadron, in a twinkling wheeled left and charged the battalion square. At eighty yards von Decken and others were hit by the first volley. His knee was shattered, his balance gone, and over he went (and died of the wound six weeks later) but, the lead passing to Captain von Usslar Gleichen, the squadron tore on into a second volley at close range.
There now occurred a stroke of luck, and a mischance for the poor 76th; the impetus of one horse, brought down in that final volley, carried him onto the kneeling front rank of the square. Rolling on over, the flailing legs and hooves cleared a passageway to the inside. Instantly seizing their chance, troopers dashed through and began hacking away at the inside of the breaking square. Resistance could not have been lengthy, for afterwards many of the 76th’s muskets were found lying in neat rows. Most surrendered, and quickly at that. This was an astonishing collapse of some 500 formed men, facing not more than 100 horsemen, and brought about solely by the battering effect of a falling horse. Charles Oman has found the names of twenty-two officers of this battalion (surely the full complement), only seven of whom were wounded, but with fourteen taken prisoner unwounded. It is his reckoning that not above fifty men escaped.
Now such figures surely indicate a lack of serious resistance. This is all the stranger – or is it just a case of experienced men knowing when resistance is useless? — for the 76th were an immensely veteran regiment who had fought at Ulm, Jena, Eylau, Friedland, Essling, Wagram and, in the Peninsula, at Busaco and Fuentes. So too had Foy’s 39th and 69th. But Colonel Molard’s 6th had not a single battle to their credit, virgins to the slaughter indeed. It is widely known that three or four ranks of men – whether with bayonets or not – will stop any horse, not so much that they recognise and fear danger in the bayonet itself, rather that by nature a horse will not risk its vulnerable legs in treading on moving bodies. No cavalryman charges expecting to force his way past solidly massed bodies. Indeed, since a horse, no matter how fast it is ridden at a square, will swerve or put in a ‘stop’ at the very last, there is always a high chance of the rider being ejected – on to the bayonets! Hence he rides a moderate pace where he can sit tight, especially in the last few strides. Now, of course, what he hopes for and why he charges at all, is an ill-formed square comprising poorly spirited defenders, perhaps not shoulder to shoulder, with a chance of frightening some to waver and draw back. Decken’s squadron was presented with the best of all: an open door.
In full view of this catastrophe, and of Bock’s other squadrons threateningly below them, Colonel Molard of the 6th ordered his two battalions, who were in column, not to form square. He made the astonishing decision, instead, to make for the higher ground – the heights are indeed fairly precipitous in places, and effectively immune to
cavalry. But first you have got to get there. The voices of the officers were heard shouting ‘Allongez le pas, gagnons la hauteur’ and one cannot but feel sympathy, given the broiling heat of the afternoon sun, for these two columns, each 500 men, struggling to keep their tight formations as they doubled upwards, knowing the next order would be to form square – if they could get high enough, quickly enough. Below them the approaching thuds and jingling equipment of several hundred horses closed rapidly. The squadron under Captain von Reizenstein was almost upon the rear battalion when the last two companies under Captain Philippe halted and, facing about, fired a ragged and no doubt ill-aimed volley. Two subalterns and several troopers were hit, but the dragoons simply rode through them – 100 on foot, 100 on horse – so each dragoon could pick his man, who either dropped his musket and raised his hands, or was cut down. Philippe, however, had gained a little time, enough for some of the leading files of the other four companies to climb the hill and join the square now nearly formed by their sister battalion on the crest. The lagging files were cut down. Next to the new square stood one of the chasseur squadrons, fugitives from Anson’s earlier charge.
Passing through the carnage next came two squadrons of the 2nd Dragoons (Marschalak’s and Furnetty’s), spurring up the slope to the second square. Once again the chasseurs turned and moved away, but no fallen horse was needed this time to bring success: the 6th’s square just disintegrated. Its rapid formation was said to be disturbed by the fugitives from the broken battalion coming up behind and, in truth, even without them the formation was hurried and therefore slipshod. Many men surrendered and others ran off down the slopes for the safety of the other regiments on the road. These were the 39th and 69th Ligne, which Foy had now got into squares, unlimbering guns, and just in time. For the Germans made for their third square of the day, that of the 69th, cutting at the fugitives of the 6th as they roared past, the horsemen in some disorder now and a mixture of the KGL squadrons. The square fired competent volleys, killing Captain von Uslar who, with Marschalak, had led this charge, and enough troopers for the dragoons to shear off. Foy was allowed to go his way, there being neither allied infantry nor artillery to hand. And that was that.
In this splendid cavalry action, the French lost in entirety the battalion of the 76th first set upon, some twenty-two officers and about 600 other ranks killed, wounded or taken, leaving perhaps five officers and fifty men – a small company, if that. The 6th Léger of two battalions lost Colonel Molard (who subsequently died of his wounds), six other officers captured and eight more wounded, with about 500 men lost one way or the other. Add some chasseurs, and Foy had thus been blooded to the extent of about 1,100 men – a fifth of his division.
It was not a cheap victory. Bock lost 127 men, of whom fifty-two were killed. Taken as a squadron level action, which it truly was, the Germans showed excellent leadership: seizing opportunities, acting instantly, yet acting in concert of squadrons, and clearly manoeuvring swiftly. This was not an action of premeditation at regimental level. There was no forming up on a start line, no planned supports, no marked axis of advance. It was a pure encounter battle of the sort a later generation of German cavalrymen would dub blitzkrieg (the battle honour ‘Garcia Hernandez’ was still, quite rightly, emblazoned on the guidons of two Hanoverian cavalry regiments in 1914). Wellington had nothing to do with it, and neither did Bock, neither did the Colonels of the 1st and 2nd Dragoons. It was the work of four captains and their 400 men, and especially of von Decken, whose instant success spread shock, panic and despair amongst the French and inspired emulation in Von Reizenstein, Marschalak and Furnetty. Yet, if that horse had not fallen as it did, none of this might have happened and, as usual, cavalry would again have failed against the experienced 76th’s square. Yet perhaps Colonel Molard might still have tried to run for it, and Von Reizenstein and Marschalak might still have overcome him?
Your author, whose life has happily combined much foot soldiering and much hunting, has always found difficulty in knowing which to admire more on 22/23 July 1812 – his old 48th on their feet (even if we were in a fusilier brigade), or the swifter dragoons, whether British or German. But Le Marchant, surely, had he lived, would have given the Salamanca cavalry honours to Baron Bock. For while he himself had charged troops not in square, and who were already devastated and beaten by British infantry, Bock’s men beat two formed squares and rode down a column, overcoming three times their own strength, in the face of (what should not be forgotten) a chasseur brigade hovering nearby some 800 strong. Shame on that brigade, and of whom we also saw very little the previous day. It was all over in forty minutes, they say, much as it took to determine the previous day’s work. Taken together, the British and German cavalry had made a truly memorable contribution to his Lordship’s trouncing of Marmont’s Army of Portugal.
CHAPTER 17
Madrid and Burgos 12 August – 21 October 1812
Immediately after the drubbing on Salamanca field, Clausel said he was down to 22,000 men, half of Marmont’s original army, although thousands more were straggling in, despite the attentions of lurking Spanish peasants. Naturally the men’s morale was entirely – for the moment – as low as could be. That did not prevent them marching with their usual unencumbered vigour. When on 24 July the British vanguard reached Penaranda, twenty-five miles from Alba, they had disappeared up the Valladolid road. Wellington followed sedately, which did not please all his supporters, reaching that place on the 30th, another sixty miles in easy marches with one rest day. In Valladolid he captured 1,000 sick in the hospital, seventeen guns and much ammunition. During this movement some cavalry prisoners were brought in from Joseph Bonaparte’s small Army of the Centre who, in ignorance of the situation, had marched to help Marmont and had so very nearly fallen under Wellington’s hand. With 14,000 men Joseph had left Madrid the day before the great battle; then learning the news on the night of the 24th, not far from Penaranda, he about-turned post haste to Madrid.
It was open to Wellington to continue to follow Clausel. He was after all now astride one of the four main roads between Madrid and France; could he but reach Burgos, another eighty miles, then he would also be astride the direct second road from Madrid, which place then could rely only on the third via Zaragoza, or the fourth, impossibly lengthy, via Valencia. However, that extra eighty miles to Burgos would so lengthen the allied line of communication back to Ciudad Rodrigo that even Joseph might descend upon it. The more cautious course of action was therefore to capture Madrid, 100 miles away, which had much in its favour politically, and possibly meet up with Hill’s 18,000 men when, combined, they could cope with Joseph and Soult, should the latter join.
So leaving Anson’s light brigade and two divisions of the Spanish under Santocildes at Valladolid and along the line of the Douro, to watch for Clausel, Wellington himself moved to Cuellar, thirty miles to the east. There he left Clinton’s 6th Division and a stores depot. In addition, Clinton was given five battalions badly in need of rest and acclimatisation, all being new in theatre and all with Walcheren in their blood, the 2nd/4th, 1st/5th, 1st/38th, 1st/42nd and 1st/82nd (the latter had missed the battle at Salamanca).
But there was more than Clausel and Joseph to consider, and Wellington halted for a few days at Cuellar, to consider further the options open to him. He knew Marshal Soult had been ordered, with his Army of the South, to reinforce the king, though whether he would obey was the question; and there was Suchet’s Army of Valencia. It was therefore a pleasure to hear from an intercepted despatch that the latter now seemed fully concerned with Lord William Bentinck’s expedition on the Spanish coast, long delayed. So his Lordship set out for Madrid on 7 August. Behind him, on one road through the mountains of the Guadarrama, threaded 36,000 men in six infantry divisions, two independent Portuguese brigades, three cavalry brigades, Espana’s Spanish and Julian Sanchez’s lancers, and it all made for an exceptionally long column and a tiresomely slow passage. Any complacency, however, was shattered on 11 Aug
ust, seven miles from Madrid at a place called Majalahonda, when D‘Urban’s seven vanguard squadrons – some 700 men – were rudely awakened at their 4pm siesta by three French dragoon regiments and one of lancers, three times their strength. Fortunately for the Portuguese, KGL cavalry and a KGL light battalion was in close support. A fierce fight developed, both sides losing about 200 men, with the Portuguese twice turning and running, and leaving their officers unsupported in the French ranks. It was a bad to-do, and Wellington afterwards wrote, ‘I shall not place Portuguese dragoons again in situations in which, by their misconduct, they can influence the safety of other troops.’
Joseph Bonaparte quit Madrid with a huge convoy of 2,000 carts and, it was said, 10,000 civilian fugitives who, for various reasons, feared for their lives. A dreadful 250 mile journey in appalling conditions ensued, to Valencia, on the coast. It was to take three weeks. Many of the so-called Afrancesados – the collaborators and hangers-on – sought shelter wherever they could en route, hoping no doubt to be able to return to Madrid before too long, given a change of fortune (and which indeed turned out to be the case).
Madrid welcomed Lord Wellington and his men in properly hearty fashion. Three years before at Talavera, he had approached to within sixty miles of the Spanish capital but, of course, with no prospect of reaching it. The welcome was everything the army and its commanders could wish for – and indeed quite rightly expected, given the blood, sweat and tears expended since 1808 to remove the French yoke. The liberation of an ally’s capital city is a military milestone in any campaign, a sign of success, reward, hope and encouragement, and the reverse of all these things to the ejected occupiers; in addition (with a bit of luck) there will be vast stocks of food, clothing, shoes, guns, muskets, powder, saddlery, workshops, armouries and barracks, not all of which in a hurry can be carted off or destroyed by the rightful owners.
Salamanca 1812- Wellington’s Year of Victories Page 42
