To War with Wellington

by Peter Snow

  At the beginning of that month Masséna was back. He crossed the frontier with 48,000 men. Wellington had 37,000 to face him. They met just inside the Portuguese frontier at the village of Fuentes d’Oñoro. What followed was one of the fiercest battles of the Peninsular War. Once again the Irish and Scottish regiments and Bob Craufurd’s Light Division played a decisive role. On the French side, Masséna had everything to lose. He had just received the news that he had been sacked by Napoleon, but his successor had not yet arrived to relieve him. He had a window of a few days in which to rescue his reputation. He seized it with his usual vigour in a last desperate attempt to throw Wellington back and rescue the French garrison in Almeida. It is astonishing that Napoleon, who now clearly recognised Wellington’s qualities, still failed to come and fight him in person. He was impressed by his opponent’s campaigns in the Peninsula. He said later he believed that only two people, he and Wellington, were able to display the kind of military genius that the British general had shown in his defensive campaign of 1810. But Napoleon still believed that the French armies in the Peninsula, which massively outnumbered Wellington’s forces, and marshals like Masséna and Soult should be sufficient to secure his position. Besides he was preoccupied with new, warlike rumblings in central Europe. Russia and Prussia were showing signs of recovering their spirits after the shattering defeats they had suffered in 1807–8. Wellington found it hard to believe his good luck. He told Alexander Gordon that he would ‘rather fight 50,000 men than Bonaparte himself’. But Wellington still believed that in Masséna he faced the ‘ablest’ of Napoleon’s marshals. Napoleon too had been a great admirer of Masséna: his only problem was that he ‘could not keep his hands from money … Had not his bright parts been soiled with the vice of avarice, he would have been a great man.’

  The Battle of Fuentes d’Oñoro (1)

  The decisive battle of 1811, which would decide the fate of Portugal, was fought in and around the village of Fuentes d’Oñoro just over the border in Spain. It was on the main road to the great fortress town of Ciudad Rodrigo held by the French eighteen miles to the east. The British were struck by how prosperous its people and houses looked compared with those in Portugal. Joseph Donaldson called the village ‘beautiful and romantic’. The ground sloped gently up westwards from a small river, called the Dos Casas, through the little cluttered houses of the village of Fuentes to a ridge 200 feet above it. Wellington had, as usual, chosen his ground well. He placed his men in the village and in an extended line northwards along the rising ground west of the river. If the French were to relieve their garrison in Almeida, eight miles off to the north-west, they would have to dislodge him. On the slopes behind the village Wellington placed Picton’s division with William Grattan’s Connaught Rangers and Donaldson’s 94th Scots Brigade. Thomas Todd’s 71st Highlanders were alongside them. A line of British guns were ranged along in front of them. In and around the village – at the front line – Wellington positioned an elite force of some 2,200 men made up of contingents from his best British and Portuguese light-infantry regiments, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Williams. Many were armed with rifles, whose longer range would allow them to thin the ranks of the advancing French columns before they could fire their muskets.

  The 3rd of May dawned a warm and cloudless day. Wellington was out early on the ridge. Through his telescope he watched the French gathering on the other side of the river, bugles blowing, drums beating, staff officers galloping from unit to unit as they shouted out orders. At 2 p.m. the French began to advance. As Williams’s sharpshooters selected their targets, British guns fired at long range over the heads of the men in the village. The river was only knee-deep and no obstacle. The French came on, six battalions of them, 4,000 men, outnumbering Williams’s troops. In a flash, in spite of the British rifle fire, they were in among the houses by the river. Williams sent in his men with bayonets fixed. Some of the French withdrew but another five battalions were sent in to reinforce them, and the British and Portuguese were forced slowly back through tight little streets. Williams was wounded. From the ridge behind, Wellington watched the 4,000 French beginning to overwhelm the 2,000 allied forces, and sent in 2,000 reinforcements from Spencer’s division, including two Highland battalions. One of them was Todd’s 71st. Together with Williams’s men, they fought from house to house. Todd noticed the contrast between the fiery French and the cool British: ‘[The French], each chafing each until they appear in a fury, shouting to the points of our bayonets. After the first Huzza, the British officers, restraining their men, still as death. “Steady, lads, steady” is all you hear; and that in an undertone.’

  A sergeant in Donaldson’s regiment had a lucky escape. With the French close on his heels he darted into a house and jumped into a large chest. He lay there ‘sweating and half smothered’, while the French broke the place up looking for plunder: ‘they were in the act of opening the lid on his hiding place when the noise of our men cheering … forced them to take flight’. Wellington threw in fresh troops, gradually pressing the French back to the river. Todd received a bayonet thrust which went through between his side and his knapsack which stopped it. The Frenchman who had stabbed at him with the bayonet was shot dead by a Scottish soldier in the rank behind Todd. But then another musket ball ‘took off part of my right shoulder, and killed my rear-rank man, who fell upon me’. The 71st actually managed to cross the river. But Masséna attacked again, with four fresh battalions, around 2,000 men, and regained the ground east of the river. The front lines ended that evening where they had started: the French had lost 650 men, more than twice as many as the British and their Portuguese allies. As Todd retreated with his Highlanders, he found himself standing by some wounded men. One ‘pierced my heart with his cries to be lifted out of the way of the cavalry’. While his heart ‘bled for them’, he had no choice but to keep moving to save himself. When a wounded man’s unit is in action, Kincaid observed, ‘he is obliged to be left to the tender mercies of those who follow after, and they generally pay him the attention due to a mad dog … giving him as wide a berth as they possibly can’.

  The following day, 4 May, Masséna took stock. He had hurled a very large force directly at the village without success. He sent his cavalry out in all directions to scout for any sign of exposed British flanks. They reported that Wellington appeared to have overextended his army to the south. He had only a small detachment at the village of Poço Velho three miles south of Fuentes d’Oñoro. There was a group of Spanish guerrillas even further away. Masséna saw an opportunity. He would throw a large force against these weaker outposts in an effort to turn Wellington’s right flank. More than 20,000 would attack Poço Velho, another 14,000 would again assault the village of Fuentes d’Oñoro in order to prevent Wellington detaching reinforcements to his right. The French units would begin their movements under cover of dark.

  Wellington’s intelligence-gathering units were busy too. In the late afternoon of 4 May they noticed stirrings on the other side. Wellington was aware of his weakness on the right, and sent his newly formed 7th Division of 4,500 men to hold the line at Poço Velho and 1,500 cavalry to support them and the Spanish guerrillas.

  The evening closed in on a day which had seen no action. There was an exchange of wounded and, as the sun set, the French were seen dancing to music and playing football on a flat piece of ground between the two armies. On the British side some dragoons managed to get their hands on a stock of rum, wine and other delicacies. There was soon a party in progress with revellers trying unsuccessfully to keep the merriment down in order not to alert a senior officer. But Ned Costello says a General Slade was awakened and ‘with lungs that roused the camp, as though a thirteen inch shell had exploded amongst them, called for the Regimental Sergeant-Major Sharpe, who on making his appearance was discovered to have partaken too freely of the … strong waters and was immediately placed under arrest’. The unfortunate RSM was stripped of his rank.

  Dawn on 5 May was foggy, but one
of Wellington’s cavalry officers patrolling near the Spanish position at the far end of the allied line spotted signs of movement. Could it be Spanish sentries? There were too many of them. He realised with a shock that he was watching French cavalry mounting their horses for a general attack. Within minutes an overwhelming force of French horsemen and infantry was rolling up Wellington’s right. The Spanish retired immediately; the British cavalry had no choice but to pull back, and the 7th Division soon felt the full weight of Masséna’s onslaught. They were seriously outnumbered.

  The Battle of Fuentes d’Oñoro (2)

  Wellington, peering through the thinning fog from the top of the ridge, realised he had extended his flank too far. He was quick to rectify his mistake. Craufurd, who had returned from leave only the night before, was ordered to race his Light Division to rescue the 7th. The energetic 95th Rifles in their dark-green uniforms were the first to get there. They found the 7th Division under severe pressure, particularly the 85th Regiment who were fighting their first action in the Peninsula. ‘Opposed, with their conspicuous red dresses, to the old trained French tirailleurs,’ reported Ned Costello, ‘it is no wonder that the gallant 85th should have suffered so severely … When we came up, however, our practised fellows, in their dark clothing, from the murderous nature of our arms, soon turned back the advancing French …’ As John Kincaid ran forward, he was struck by a musket ball on his chest, ‘which made me stagger a yard or two backward, and, as I felt no pain, I concluded that I was dangerously wounded; but it turned out to be owing to my not being hurt’.

  While Ned Costello and his comrades were struggling to blunt the impact of Masséna’s left hook, Wellington rapidly reshaped his battlefront. This reactive stroke of genius transformed the contest. His units had been stretched in a long straight line north and south, centred on the village of Fuentes d’Oñoro. He now folded back the southern part of his line to form a right angle at the village. From the point of the angle his forces would extend north as before, but the other half of his line would stretch due west from the village instead of south. But first he had to retrieve what he could of the Light Division, which was now covering the 7th’s retreat to the new line. Craufurd and his men were excelling themselves. Some officers such as Simmons and Leach may have shuddered at Craufurd’s return but most of the ordinary soldiers, like Costello, welcomed him back from his leave with enthusiasm: ‘although a strict disciplinarian, the men knew his value in the field too well not to testify their satisfaction at his return’. Harry Smith, whom Craufurd had appointed his ADC, agreed. ‘The soldiers received him with every demonstration of joy. The officers at that time execrated him … He was always most kind and hospitable to me.’

  The Light Division consisted of fewer than 4,000 men supported by a battery of Royal Horse Artillery and 1,500 cavalry facing three or four times their number. But these men now demonstrated a mastery of fire and movement. Supported by the small force of cavalry, who charged again and again at the advancing French, they formed mobile squares to protect themselves from the massed French cavalry attacks. All the time they edged backwards towards Wellington’s new line, somehow keeping at bay the continual onslaughts from French infantry and cavalry. William Napier, a Light Division officer, described in his history of the campaign how the French had attacked the squares: ‘Although [the squares] were too formidable to be meddled with, there was not, during the war, a more dangerous hour for England.’ Private William Wheeler was one of the 7th Division soldiers grateful for the Light Division’s cover for their withdrawal. He was lucky to have a commanding officer who coolly led his men back as if they were on the drill square. ‘He took advantage of the ground and led us out of a scrape without loss. I shall never forget him, he dismounted off his horse, faced us and frequently called the time “Right, Left” as he was accustomed to when drilling the regiment … he would now and then call out “That fellow is out of step. Keep step and they cannot hurt us.”’

  The guns retired at the same time, sheltering, when they could, in the squares or hoping for protection from the cavalry; otherwise they risked being captured. One section of two Royal Horse Artillery guns under Captain Norman Ramsay appeared lost in a mêlée of triumphant French soldiers. Napier was not far away:

  Men and horses there closed with confusion and tumult towards one point. A thick dust arose, and loud cries, and the sparkling of blades and the flashing of pistols indicated some extraordinary occurrence. Suddenly the multitude became violently agitated, an English shout pealed high and clear, the mass was rent asunder, and Norman Ramsay burst forth at the head of his battery, his horses breathing fire, stretched like greyhounds along the plain, the guns bounded behind them like things of no weight, and the mounted gunners followed in close career.

  Moments after their flamboyant breakout Ramsay and his gunners were safely absorbed into Spencer’s infantry division back at the village of Fuentes. All the retreating units including Houston’s hard-pressed 7th Division rapidly consolidated on Wellington’s new defence line and the French could make little impact on it. It was a triumphant end to a perilous episode in the battle: Wellington could have suffered disastrous losses but for the skill and bravery of Craufurd’s men and the hard-pressed cavalry. They had allowed Wellington to extricate his right wing almost intact. Masséna now turned his attention back to the village of Fuentes d’Oñoro itself. He threw several waves of infantry into a battle that grew in intensity and butchery as more and more units were committed by each side. The Highlanders fought to hold the village. Thomas Todd noted how different French soldiers looked from the British. ‘Their hats set round with feathers, their beards long and black, gave them a fierce look. Their stature was superior to ours: most of us were young. We all looked like boys, they like savages.’

  French reinforcements kept advancing as the tight little streets filled with dead and wounded. After an hour and a half’s fighting the struggle was going against the Highlanders. ‘We were overpowered, and forced through the streets, contesting every inch.’ William Grattan of the Connaught Rangers looked down from the slope above: ‘Our Highlanders lay dead in heaps … the French grenadiers with their immense caps and gaudy plumes in piles of twenty or thirty together, some dead, others wounded with barely strength sufficient to move.’ Wellington threw in more troops, and the fierce French tide ebbed a little.

  But then Masséna ordered in another 10,000 French troops in an effort to push the British and Portuguese out of the village altogether. If they could reach the church at the top of the hill and consolidate in the streets and houses around it, Fuentes would be in French hands and he would be able to claim a victory. The French soldiers fought their way to a spot by the church, just short of where the Connaught Rangers and two other battalions were being held in reserve by Wellington. Grattan watched Wellington’s brother-in-law Sir Edward Pakenham gallop up to the Rangers’ commanding officer, Colonel Wallace, and say: ‘Do you see that, Wallace?’ ‘I do,’ replied the colonel, and he went on to say he believed he could drive the French out of the town. ‘Will you?’ said Pakenham. ‘I shall go and tell Lord Wellington so: see, here he comes.’ Wellington didn’t need persuading: the time had come for a decisive stroke. In a moment Pakenham was back; waving his hat, he called out, ‘He says you may go – come along, Wallace.’ Off went Pakenham and Wallace leading the Irish charge down towards the church. ‘The men stepped together at a smart trot, as if on a parade …’ They had fixed bayonets. ‘It so happened’, wrote Grattan, ‘that the command of the company which led this attack devolved upon me. When we came within sight of the French … I turned round to look at the men of my company: they gave me a cheer that the lapse of many years has not made me forget, and I thought that moment was the proudest of my life …’ The struggle that followed was the most bitterly fought of the whole battle.

  Every man who could lift a weapon – even the battered Highlanders – dragged himself into the struggle. Inch by inch they pressed the French out of the vil
lage and back into the river. At one stage Wallace disappeared beneath a pile of rubble when a French shell blew up a wall in the village, but he emerged unscathed. Thomas Picton, the Connaught Rangers’ divisional commander, who had lambasted them in the past, exclaimed, ‘Well done the brave 88th.’ ‘Some of them, stung by his former reproaches, cried out: “Are we the greatest blackguards in the army now?” … “No, No. You are brave and gallant soldiers: this day has redeemed your character.”’

  By 2 p.m. Masséna knew he was beaten. The French had lost nearly 2,200, the British and Portuguese fewer than 1,500. Wellington had orchestrated a masterly victory after recognising the risk he had taken in over-stretching his line, when he was faced with a superior force. He admitted later that he had made a blunder in extending his right too far. If the French had taken advantage of it, he confessed, there might have been dire consequences. ‘If Boney had been there,’ he remarked, ‘we should have been beaten.’ There were few sceptics left in Wellington’s army now. Here was a general who won battles and who did his best to preserve his men’s lives. Kincaid spoke for most of the army when he observed after Fuentes d’Oñoro: ‘We would rather see his long nose in the fight than a reinforcement of ten thousand men any day.’

  Fuentes provided Picton with another chance to criticise the man he saw as an awkward rival. He later wrote: ‘The Light Division, under General Craufurd, was rather roughly handled by the enemy’s cavalry, and had that arm of the French been as daring and active upon this occasion as they were when following us to the lines of Torres Vedras, they would doubtless have cut off the Light Division to a man.’