Swallowing Portugal Will Settle My Spanish Bellyache

by Geoffrey Watson

  May I suggest that we foregather while we still have some daylight left and I shall arrange some entertainment before we sit down to eat?”

  Dai Evans arranged it all. He found a hundred yards clear space that rose gently towards a copse of trees that would serve as targets and stop stray balls from flying off into the distance, not that he intended that any should miss their target.

  Five trees were selected and marked so that the height of a standing soldier was seen on each. He had cheated slightly in that his temporary range faced west to east so that the targets would have the best light from the setting sun, which would be behind the marksmen. He was cynical enough to doubt that any of the guests would notice.

  The dinner guests were commendably prompt and before they could start talking among themselves, Graham led them all to where Evans and four very relaxed Hornets were standing with Welbeloved, who stepped forward and greeted them.

  “Good evening, Gentlemen. Sir Thomas has agreed to feed me this evening and in return I am to tell yew all about the strange, dirt-coloured creatures that I command.

  I feel that, without this little demonstration, anything that I say shall be merely words and the weapons we use just another firelock.” He glanced at his audience and could see only the faintest interest.

  “Please observe the trees at the top of the slope. Five of them as yew can see, have been marked to represent soldiers at a hundred yards. They are a little thinner than normal soldiers. You shall have to imagine that we are shooting at some of the Frenchmen presently in front of Lisbon.”

  That raised a genuine laugh and suddenly they were all listening.

  “My men have unloaded rifles and shall shoot for a timed minute only. Please observe the size of the target they themselves shall make if the trees were shooting back.

  Does anyone have a watch with a second hand?”

  An infantry colonel held out an open hunter and Welbeloved handed him his whistle. “Oblige me by blowing a sharp blast to start them and another after one minute, Colonel.”

  Almost to a man, the audience showed how doubtful they were. The only one showing keen interest was wearing the green uniform of the Rifles.

  The sharp blast of the whistle sent the five Hornets onto the ground without undue haste. They loaded, primed and cocked their rifles with practised expertise and the first five shots came in a sustained ker-r-ack. After a short pause, each shot took on a distinct character, a continuous chattering until the whistle blew again and every man cleared his weapon and started to clean it.

  The rifleman was the first to start up the slope. The rest followed him as he went from tree to tree, counting the hits and muttering to himself. Each tree had a group of shots that could be covered by a man’s hand, all at chest height. Three had four holes, two had five.

  Other than to ask them to turn and look at the five marksmen, who could easily have been mistaken for small boulders or tufts of grass, Welbeloved said nothing, merely listening to their comments.

  It was one of the brigade commanders who summed up the opinion of them all. “If this is the latest weapon that is going to be used, we shall have to change the way we make war."

  Welbeloved pounced. He handed his Ferguson over for inspection. “This particular ‘latest weapon’ is now forty years old, Gentlemen. It is too expensive and too much of a thoroughbred ever to be trusted to anyone without lengthy training and the skill to use it and maintain it. This is why you will only see my men taking part in what the Admiralty designate as ‘particular and special services’.”

  This seemed to reassure even the most hidebound and reactionary of those present and when he came to explain, over the dinner table, how the Hornets had evolved, he found that he was preaching to the converted in the majority of cases. There were even some very thoughtful interludes after they realised that even Lord Wellington was uncertain about how the Hornets could ever be employed as part of the army.

  Davison and Tonks, with C and D Companies, arrived in the morning to take up their role as extra reconnaissance troops. Welbeloved was happier now that the officers of the entire division were aware that the strange brown skirmishers were on their side and not to be mistaken for the enemy.

  Captain Davison led his company on foot, well north of the road that the army was following. Welbeloved, with Tonks and Evans rode parallel to the road but still outside the light infantry screen covering the marching battalions of the vanguard.

  This was one of the few occasions when the Hornets moved on foot through unfamiliar terrain, searching for an enemy that could be hidden in any of the valleys or behind any of the stands of trees. Normally, they were the ones lying in ambush and now they were searching for an army that Welbeloved was convinced was out there, waiting to pounce on the marching columns, stretched across their front.

  The five thousand men of the Anglo-Portuguese column were stretched out over three miles of road in spite of Graham’s orders to keep in close order and each unit practically treading on the heels of the one in front. The light infantry screen was well out to the right along the whole length, while the Hornets were farther out still and acting as an aggressive vanguard.

  On the coastal road there were twice as many men and they needed no protective screen of their own as the English were providing it for them. It enabled them to move more quickly on a wider and better road, but they still spread out along some five miles of it.

  General Graham’s division did in fact have a good view of the Spanish army for the first five miles of the march. The minor road that they were on climbed away from the coast and they could look down and follow the progress of their allies, only occasionally having small hills blocking the view.

  Then they were separated by an area of high ground above the small town of Barrosa, where the vanguards of the two armies disappeared from each other’s sight, as the roads wound round both sides of the heights.

  It is doubtful whether either road was apart by more than two miles at any one point, but after passing the hills above Barrosa, the armies only had a very brief sighting before the upper road plunged into an area of extensive pine woods. Here the reconnaissance expertise of the Hornets became both more difficult and of vastly greater importance, for this was the ideal place for an enemy army to hide itself until almost the moment of impact.

  In Welbeloved’s recollection, this was probably the point, with Graham’s division over a mile into the pine woods, that the fighting started. It wasn’t the onset that they had been expecting against their own flank and nothing could be seen because of the trees. Nevertheless, the sounds of combat came clearly from the direction that the vanguard of the Spanish army should now have reached. The French had a force in front, disputing the road to Leon Island.

  Welbeloved’s reaction was largely instinctive. He couldn’t tolerate being in a position where he didn’t know what was happening. “Captain Tonks!” Tonks drew his horse alongside. “Percy, I am in the wrong place. Send a platoon down through the trees to report on the fighting ahead. Send another to keep in closer touch with Davison. All intelligence is to come straight back to me. I shall be with General Graham and he shall have need of yor reports more than I. Keep yor wits about yew. Almost anything can happen now.” He cantered off back through the trees.

  Tonks was impressed. It shows that the old man can sometimes break away from his casual air of complete confidence, he thought. It was one of the few times he had actually given direct orders, rather than recommending a course of action. The result was the same, of course. Perhaps it happened a little more quickly? He grinned as he watched 3 Platoon disappear into the trees, going towards the sound of battle and 4 Platoon vanish in the other direction, looking for Davison and C Company.

  General Graham was no wiser than Welbeloved when he got back to him. He too had a very good view of a great many pine trees and very little else, but he had taken to heart the warnings of possible flank attacks and had sent half a brigade to occupy a long ridge on the right of
his advance.

  His aides were galloping along the column to halt the advance until he knew what they were marching into. The noise of combat intensified in front and then died away, to the sound of cheering. Half an hour later, Sergeant Brown of 3 Platoon arrived from Tonks with news that the Spanish vanguard had broken through the French resistance to meet with troops pouring across a pontoon bridge from the island. The French appeared to have withdrawn across the creek in the direction of Chiclana.

  Ten minutes later, an aide arrived from La Peña, proclaiming a huge success, asking why the English had not been in support and ordering Graham to march immediately to join him in time to have a small share in completing a magnificent victory.

  Welbeloved was able to act as interpreter for the haughty young man. Apart from the flowery language and extravagant claims, what he said tallied in general with what Brown had reported. Reluctantly, Graham assured the aide that the British advance would continue and ordered the column to start moving again. He withdrew the half brigade from the ridge, but prudently and with Welbeloved’s quiet approval, left a battalion of light troops in position.

  Half an hour later, everything took on a much faster pace. Welbeloved was astonished when Lieutenant Thomas Atkins, one of his original band, came cantering in with his platoon and reported a complete change of plan by Hamish MacKay.

  Two complete divisions of French troops were on the right flank of the British army. One was advancing through the pine woods, north of the road. The other was about to fall on the rear and baggage train of the British and Spanish beyond Barrosa.

  MacKay had brought A and B Companies back through the middle of the two divisions. He would try and occupy the heights above Barrosa and submitted that any support that Graham could spare, might help stop the French enveloping the rear of both columns.

  His words needed no corroboration, as the sound of combat now started from the direction the army had come. Atkins and his men galloped off as instructed, to support MacKay and his two companies against a complete French division.

  Welbeloved looked at Graham. “I smell stinking fish, Sir Thomas. If La Peña is not responsible for this, then he is criminally incompetent. If he has any knowing role in this attempt to sacrifice yor division, he is a traitor and should be shot.

  I don’t know how good our rearguard is, but the Spanish shall surely not be capable of standing and we have two companies of Hornets trying to delay five thousand French.

  Exactly the same situation seems to be happening to our north and I must rejoin my men to try and hold another five thousand Frogs.”

  “Thankyou, Sir Joshua. I shall send a battalion of light infantry to support both you and MacKay. Expect them between thirty and forty minutes. I shall need up to two hours to deploy heavier support. Pray buy me that time at not too great a cost.”

  “We shall do all we can. Just ask yor men not to shoot this colour uniform, if they attack through us.”

  “That I can do, Sir Joshua. Three hundred Portuguese wear brown and the four hundred of the 95th wear green jackets. They shall only look for the French blue.”

  ***

  D Company was not there when Welbeloved returned, only two hundred horses, half a dozen wagons and five uniformed girls of MacKay’s ‘harem’, helping a dozen Wasp wagoners herd the horses.

  He went on foot up through the pine woods, following the sound of firing that was telling him that the centre French division was now in touch and that his men were engaging the skirmishers; the light infantry, tirailleurs and voltigeurs, that moved in swarms ahead of the columns of infantry.

  The trees thinned out and there was, literally, an open field of battle. It was open, rising country with ground that was broken by bushes, rocks and hollows, almost ideal skirmishing country in fact.

  He watched for a while from the edge of the pines and noted the pattern of the clouds of powder smoke. His Hornets had established a claim to all the ground up to a hundred yards from the edge of the woods over a front of half a mile. They were shooting as and when targets presented themselves and they were shooting mostly without reply, as all the French skirmishers that he could see were too far away to use their muskets effectively.

  He moved his telescope up and discovered a scattered line of bodies four or five hundred yards away. The situation became clearer. He could imagine a line of skirmishers moving down towards the pine woods. They would see open ground as far as the trees and they would not see the Hornets concealed in the cover that each man had found.

  Davison and Tonks, very sensibly, had had their men open fire at the maximum effective range of their riflemen. The long advancing line of French light infantry, suddenly and quite unexpectedly, had lost fifty or sixty of their number and been shocked into going into full skirmishing order, much farther out than they had dreamed was necessary.

  It had to be frustrating for them. As with the Hornets, they worked in pairs. The drill was that one man fired his musket to keep down the enemy heads or distract them from his partner, who was up and running forward to fresh cover.

  They were keeping to this drill, even though they couldn’t see their target and must know by now that the puffs of smoke that they could see were well out of range of their weapons.

  Every time they fired their muskets, the cloud of smoke told the Hornets that a French soldier close by, would be jumping to his feet and running towards them. It was better than a day on the firing range, with the added spice that if they missed their target, it would soon be close enough to start shooting back.

  It was also very difficult for the French to reload their muskets through the muzzle, without exposing quite large areas of their bodies. Naturally, these were legitimate targets and the Hornets and the Hornets were not inclined to be merciful when they could see the heavy main columns of the enemy coming onto the field and deploying into line, thoughtfully short of the line of dead and wounded skirmishers, stretched across in front of them.

  Firing slackened. The skirmishers had seen their heavier comrades deploying behind them. They had decided with remarkable unanimity, to lie quietly in cover until the line started to advance. Once those horribly accurate skirmishers in front of them were occupied with the advancing line, they should be able to raise their heads without the near certainty of having them blown off.

  Welbeloved focused his glass on the area from which the French were coming and swore mildly to himself. Not content with spreading themselves all over the field, they were advancing in mixed order; line and column both. Two columns, each about a dozen men across, were forming up at the point from which the line had deployed.

  He looked curiously at the small party standing between them, realising with mild astonishment that the totem they appeared to be carrying was in fact one of the famous Imperial Eagles that Napoleon presented in person to each of his regiments. Those two columns had to be a complete regiment with its eagle and guard party.

  He loped along the edge of the wood until he found Tonks. “Carry on as yew are, Percy, but concentrate on those two columns when they come into range. Point out that eagle to Dai Evans. I want him to ensure that anyone carrying it dies. It should do wonders to ruin their morale.”

  He moved farther along and found Davison. Giving him the same instructions about the columns, he moved back somewhat anxiously, looking for any sign of the riflemen and Portuguese that Graham had promised.

  They were there, filtering up through the trees, led by Barnard and Bushe, who had both been at his demonstration yesterday. The men spread out along the tree line and waited for the order to move out.

  “Welcome, Gentlemen. We have been keeping the enemy amused, but only to the extent of suppressing their skirmishers so far. I have just asked my lads to destroy the head of that double column, which leaves you to play with the whole of that line and four or five hundred skirmishers, whenever they get within range.”

  Both men nodded happily and gave orders to their buglers. Both bugles sounded and to Welbeloved’s
utter astonishment, the 95th and the Portuguese erupted from the trees and trotted out to meet the French line. They had moved forward by now, almost to within range of the Hornets.

  Afterwards, he understood that both units were trained in skirmishing and that skirmishers had to be within range to skirmish. Losses had to be accepted. This devil-may-care attitude wasn’t exactly what he had in mind at the time and he watched carefully for the reaction of the nearest French troops; the light infantry.

  They had all been lying frustrated for so long, that the sight of so many of their enemy suddenly in front of them, brought them up from cover to reap this unexpected harvest. The Hornets all thought that Christmas had come again, although it wasn’t the season of goodwill that they were thinking of. Every visible skirmisher was an immediate target. Their tall shakos ensured that everyone that moved was visible and their threat to the advancing 95th and Portuguese was extinguished.

  Unfortunately, the same could not be said of the French line and particularly the twin columns. They had moved forward at the same time as the British skirmishers and their steady pace down the gentle slope had brought them to within killing range of the rifles. Even Roberto’s converted muskets were lethal under three hundred yards.

  The four hundred riflemen of the 95th preferred to be within two hundred yards and the Portuguese with their muskets were not very effective over a hundred yards.

  The result was that they all rushed past the Hornets, making for cover one to two hundred yards closer to the enemy. While they trotted forward, they quite spoiled the aim of most of the Hornets, except for the broad corridor in front of the regimental column that they had been ordered to avoid.

  It was the French revolutionary wars of ten years ago that had seen the perfecting of the ‘soften up with swarms of skirmishers and punch through with massed columns’ tactics. It had worked well for them, but they hated it when skirmishers were used against their own formations.