Sickness, Suffering, and the Sword

by Andrew Bamford

  Straggling, Absenteeism, and Desertion

  In marked contrast to the attention paid to sickness both by contemporaries and historians, very little has been written about desertion on campaign. Not only are personal accounts understandably scant, but there is also only limited coverage in official papers. Furthermore, for the most part such official correspondence as there is deals largely with the courts-martial of individual deserters; rarely is the problem discussed in any wider context. This lack of coverage stands in marked contrast to the situation for troops stationed in the British Isles, where desertion was a far more serious problem and one to which considerable effort was devoted by the authorities in an attempt either to stem the tide or, at least, recover the services of men who had absconded.72 In any case, desertion on active service generally represented a set of circumstances distinct from those encountered at home. Whereas a typical case of desertion in the British Isles can be broadly characterized as a desire to make a permanent break with military service, the situation on active service could be far more fluid with a sizeable grey area tending from the extreme of desertion, to absenteeism—deliberate or inadvertent—to simple straggling. Since, however, there was no category in the monthly returns akin to being absent without leave—at least, not for the rank and file—desertion covered the lot so far as the official record was concerned.73

  Working with averages, calculated in desertions per thousand, it is possible to make a comparison between the various theaters of war. However, whilst a ranking of the theaters in order of relative levels of desertion does produce some clear distinctions, the most obvious conclusion to be drawn from such figures is the relatively low instance of desertion as a contributor to strategic consumption for the British Army on service overseas. Within table 10, most trends are logical enough, particularly with respect to those theaters with the lowest rates of desertion. It would take a desperate man indeed to voluntarily remain on fever-ridden Walcheren, or to risk his lot along the coast of the United States when his uniform immediately identified him as one of those who had been engaged in attacking its citizens. The desirability of remaining in Cadiz or Gibraltar, with their exposure to periodic fever epidemics, is also questionable, but here there is also the issue of where one might desert to, particularly in Cadiz under siege. Short of being able to obtain a clandestine sea passage, the only alternative would be to go over to the enemy, which may be assumed to have been the recourse taken by the handful of men who ran whilst on Walcheren or in the United States.

  Table 10. Average Desertion Rates by Theater

  Source: Sources as per appendix 1. “Northern Europe” covers Germany, Flanders, and France, 1813–15.

  With regard to those theaters with the worst rates of desertion, an element of distortion is admittedly involved. This is in part due to the large numbers of foreign troops—justly noted at the time as being far more likely to desert—in both Flanders and Canada, which artificially raise the average for the theater. This distinction also helps explain why the force in eastern Spain, containing many Italian, German, and émigré units, has a higher incidence of desertion than the main peninsular army under Wellington. In the case of Canada, it should also be remembered that the English-speaking colonial population provided a society into which it would be far easier for a deserter to find a new life than in many of the other seats of war—a situation analogous to eighteenth-century experiences in North America.74 Data for Canada may also be further distorted by the fact that data for this theater is for the years 1812–15 and therefore reflects in part the general trend toward a higher incidence of desertion toward the end of the period, something that is also apparent in the data for northern Europe. The extent by which desertion levels increased toward the end of the war is emphasized by the data in table 11 where the numbers of troops deserting whilst on active service are given year by year.

  Table 11. Desertions on Active Service, 1808–1815

  Note: Sources as per appendix 1.

  Clearly, the increased number of desertions is in part due to the greater number of troops on active service, but, even so, it is clear that the rate of desertions did increase to a considerable degree in relative as well as absolute terms during the last third of the period. Yet even in the worst cases, five men in a thousand is by no means an immense drain, and this is reflected when one makes comparisons at a unit level with losses through other forms of wastage. We have seen, for example, that the 1/40th lost 1,378 men dead as a result of sickness or wounds during its peninsular service, and the 2/83rd lost 779; in comparison, the numbers lost through desertion total 14 and 53 respectively. Furthermore, desertion figures from the monthly returns give a deceptively high total, for they make no account of deserters who subsequently gave themselves up or were forcibly returned to their units; when these men are taken into account, the totals are reduced to a considerable degree.

  Unless aggravated by the deserter having taken service with the enemy, or compounded with other crimes—in which cases the death sentence usually resulted—recaptured deserters would generally end up back in the ranks.75 Many who were listed as deserters may well have never had any intention to permanently desert at all, but the absence of an intermediate “absent without leave” status caused all cases to be tried as desertion. This for example, was the fate of Private Thomas Jones of the 2/53rd, brought before a court-martial on August 26, 1811, but Jones was able to satisfy the court that he had had no intention to desert but, rather, had gone “absent from his regiment, without leave, in search of wine.” Jones thereby escaped the death penalty, which the court had already handed down once that day to a previous defendant facing the same charge, and was sentenced to the lesser punishment of four hundred lashes. Since Jones had already spent some months as a French prisoner as a result of his ill-judged efforts to quench his thirst, Wellington evidently deemed that he had suffered enough and granted a pardon that permitted Jones to return to his unit.76 Cases like Jones’s demonstrate that there was considerable flexibility and understanding within the British Army’s legal processes, but so far as the keeping of returns was concerned it led to men first being struck off as deserters and subsequently reentered onto their unit’s strength. Furthermore, particularly when a unit was split up or men were serving detached, it was relatively simple for error to creep in and for men who had legitimate reason to be away from their units to find themselves wrongly listed as deserters. A particularly extreme case of this occurred early in the Peninsular War, when the 5/60th was serving for some months as two independent wings attached to different brigades. When the battalion was reassembled in March 1809, it proved necessary to reenter onto the strength no less than 110 individuals wrongly assumed to have deserted.77

  Because of the detailed nature of the notes accompanying the army-level monthly returns for the peninsula, it is possible to track the number of deserters who did return to their units. Details of the data sample are shown in appendix 3. By looking at return rates for the years of 1810 and 1812, it is possible not only to calculate a representative average that can be applied to the whole conflict but also to identify changes between the early and late period of the war. In 1810, 296 British troops deserted along with 126 foreigners; over the same period, 127 Britons and 29 foreigners came back. This gives a return rate of 43 percent for British deserters and 23 percent for foreign deserters. In 1812, 546 Britons deserted and 128 came back, in comparison with 458 foreigners of whom 46 came back. These figures produce lower return rates than those for 1810: 23 percent of Britons and 10 percent of foreigners. To some extent, the lower return rates for 1812 may be accounted for by the far more rigorous nature of campaigning in that year as opposed to the conditions of 1810, but the deterioration of manpower quality, particularly in the foreign units, also plays a part. Taking an average of both years, the return rates come out as 30 percent for British deserters and 13 percent for deserters from foreign units. Extrapolation from this would therefore suggest that, in terms of men permanently los
t to the service, the total figure of British desertions during the Peninsular War should be corrected from 2,719 to ca. 1,900, and that for foreigners from 2,052 to ca. 1,800. Regrettably, data for other major theaters is less readily available due to the far less detailed nature of the notes accompanying the returns; information for Canada, in particular, is practically nonexistent. The 30 percent return rate for British deserters may be considered as representative, at least for continental Europe, but the wide fluctuation in the nature and quality of foreign manpower in the various theaters prevents any meaningful application of the peninsular figures elsewhere. The primary point remains, however, not only that desertion on active service was low for the bulk of our period but that this low incidence was further reduced by the sizable number of men who came back. This then begs the question of why this was so.

  One key point, already mentioned, is the blurred distinction between straggling, absenteeism, and desertion. The taxing effects of sustained active service have already been analyzed with respect to their effect on health, and under such circumstances straggling could then become a serious issue. However, whilst becoming detached from one’s unit in this way provided the means and opportunity for desertion, it should not be taken as implying the presence of motive. The breakdown of unit integrity during the great retreats to Corunna and from Burgos is well noted, but similar problems were encountered when the army had to be force-marched during an advance. This was particularly apparent during the attempt to cut Soult’s corps off after Oporto, which represented the first sustained active service for many of the men involved. Conditions for Beresford’s flanking column, pushing into the mountains through heavy weather and on poor roads, took a particularly heavy toll on the battalions of Tilson’s Third Brigade. The ordeal was related by Hugh Gough, then a major and in command of the 2/87th: “In the dark many men lost the column, several fell into pits excavated by the falling water: many lay down in the road from fatigue and hunger, and the greater part lost their shoes. . . . We pursued our melancholy march at five o’clock, the men nearly fainting with hunger: about twelve we fell in with some carts of bread belonging to a Portuguese division, which General Tilson pressed for the men; this (with some wine) enabled us to proceed. . . . Part of the officers and nearly all the men had their feet cut to the bone for want of shoes.”78 Gough further notes that the brigade was on the march in these conditions for three days, with only twelve hours’ rest, by the end of which its other battalion, the 1/88th, had only 150 men still present with the colors. Yet, despite this disintegration, the men who had fallen out were nearly all able to rejoin, and the 1/88th recorded only one desertion during the whole of May, with none at all in Gough’s own battalion.79 Under ordinary circumstances, steps were taken to prevent straggling either through extreme disciplinary measures, as practiced in particular by Robert Craufurd, or—more typically and humanely—by making provision for men who fell out to be brought along after the column.80 Rank-and-file memoirs also give the impression that whilst falling out during combat was bad form, it was considered acceptable to be absent without leave on the march, or even when in billets; Lawrence, as we have seen, certainly felt extremely aggrieved to have been sentenced to four hundred lashes for a twenty-four-hour absence.

  The lengths to which some men went to get back to their units emphasize that such behavior did not inevitably imply an intention to desert. This was seen on a wide scale during the Corunna retreat, although in this instance the unthinkable nature of any of the alternatives must have played some part in motivating the groups of men left behind to keep moving. It was quite one thing to fall behind during an advance, when the opportunity existed to rejoin, but quite another to do so during a retreat when death or capture were the only likely outcomes. Men who fell out on the road to Corunna and Vigo were men who were too exhausted, mentally and physically, to keep moving.81 But even if the Corunna retreat is discounted as an exceptional circumstance, there are numerous other accounts of individuals making stringent efforts to get back to their units, or, failing that, to another British outpost. In February 1811, for example, an amendment had to be made to the strength of the KGL Garrison Company, then stationed at Lisbon, as explained in an accompanying note: “1 Rank and File was in former Returns struck off the strength as deserted, but however it appears that on the 1st Oct when on the Retreat from Coimbra, he was taken Prisoner from which he Effected his Escape and Joined the Company.”82 Yet if the experiences of this unnamed KGL private were remarkable enough, they nevertheless pale somewhat in comparison with another instance recorded the same month. When Brigadier General Daniel Hoghton was inspecting the rifle detachments at Cadiz, he uncovered a story that hints at a quite remarkable adventure: “Bugler Bryan McGrath of the 1st Battn. 95th was taken prisoner in Spain on the 3rd of Jan. 1809, on the retreat of the British Army to Corunna, he made his escape and joined at Gibraltar on the 1st of March 1810 from whence he was sent to Cadiz and joined this Detachment on the 2nd of May.”83 No further details are provided of McGrath’s journey, but even the bare-bones account sounds like something from the pages of C. S. Forester.

  Even in northern Europe, men turned up from surprising locations. Of seventeen detached personnel temporarily attached to the 2/91st at Stralsund in November 1813, two were escaped prisoners of war. Private Bennett of the 20th could conceivably have been taken during the Walcheren expedition, but Private Cunningham of the 87th could only have come from Spain.84 On the other hand, confusion could also ensue from such cases, as seems to have been the case judging from a rather bizarre note accompanying the June 1810 monthly return for the 2/53rd, stating that “the man returned Discharged is a man that was supposed to belong to the Regt. who had made his escape from a French Prison, but it appears that he does not either belong to this nor to any other Regt. and is therefore struck off the strength in consequence.”85 Sadly, no further clue is given as to the man’s true identity, or his subsequent fate.

  In many cases of this nature, there is no way of knowing if the individual concerned had truly been taken prisoner, or whether he had taken service with the French. The practice of joining the enemy with a view to getting back to one’s own side was common enough during the period, most notably in the case of the Portuguese garrison of Almeida, but whilst Wellington condoned that example he was less happy about the potential result of British troops who had made this recourse subsequently rejoining their regiments.86 In early 1811, perceiving an increase in desertion, he aired his views on the matter to Lord Liverpool, producing some startling conclusions:

  It is difficult to account for the prevalence of this crime, particularly in this army lately. The British Soldiers . . . know and feel that they are suffering no hardship and distress; that there is not an Article of food or clothing which can contribute to their health and comfort, that is not provided for them; that they are well lodged and taken care of in every respect, & not fatigued by work or duty, and having every prospect of success.

  The deserters from the British Regts. are primarily Irishmen; and I attribute the prevalence of the Crime very much to the bad description of Men in all the Regiments which are drafted from the Irish Militia; and also to the irregular habits which many Soldiers had acquired and had communicated to others in the Retreat of the Army through the North of Spain in the Winter 1808–9, and in their subsequent service in the French Army and in their wandering through the Country back again into Portugal.87

  Lack of suitable data renders difficult a judgment of the truth of Wellington’s assertions about Irishmen, but coming from a member of the Protestant ascendancy there is clearly a strong streak of prejudice implicit in them. Yet more remarkable, however, is the insistence that conditions were such that no man ought be dissatisfied with them and desert as a result; to say the least, this portrayal of life in the ranks is decidedly rose tinted. Nevertheless, Wellington’s expression of surprise that men would have any cause to desert from the British service is a recurring theme on those occasions when t
he issue comes up in official correspondence.

  Wellington’s concerns reflect an understandable fear of his army being contaminated with the ethos that led men to accept service in the pay of any nation as an alternative to an existence as a prisoner. Two months before he had written to Liverpool, Wellington had explicitly expressed this concern in a General Order relating to the courts-martial of Private Henry Davy of the 52nd and Henry Vandebruck of the 97th, which took place on the same day as that of Jones of the 2/53rd. Like Jones, Davy and Vandebruck had been taken prisoner whilst absent from their units looking for wine; unlike Jones, they had elected to take service with the enemy, as the court-martial recorded it, “in order, if possible, to make their escape.” This they managed to do, but having been recaptured in enemy uniform they clearly had a lot of explaining to do. It eventually took a pardon by Wellington himself to save the two men from the firing squad. In the General Order outlining the case, Wellington made it clear that theirs was not an expedient to be recommended, not least because it was “very possible that those who attempt it may find themselves engaged with their countrymen and comrades before they can carry this design into execution.”88

  It is telling that one of the men involved in this case can be assumed—bearing in mind his name and regiment—to have been a foreigner. Although Wellington’s assertions with regard to the tendency of British troops to happily seek service with the enemy, as expressed in his letter to Liverpool, seem to be an exaggeration, he was certainly aware of the high desertion rates in the foreign units under his command, and it is hardly to be wondered at that men like Vandebruck cared little which army’s coat they wore.