Sickness, Suffering, and the Sword

by Andrew Bamford

  Even without the additional distortion caused by the fact that far fewer of these men were ever recovered, the high rate of desertions by foreigners serves to considerably distort the data in this sample as a whole. Across the period as a whole, in all the theaters from which data was sampled, the average loss rate through desertion was two men in every thousand. However, the figures for foreigners in British pay comes out as seven men in every thousand and that for Canadian Provincial units as ten men in every thousand. When British troops are considered alone, the average figure comes out as 1.2 desertions per 1,000 men. These figures also indicate a distinction between arms of service, with a far greater incidence of desertion to be found in the infantry than in the cavalry and, in particular, in the Ordnance services. It may be suggested that the better levels of health in these two arms led to less straggling and absenteeism than in the infantry and therefore to less desertion as a result. That said, it is important not to overstress this point, as there is no obvious correlation between sickness and desertion rates when these are plotted together at a unit level.

  The far higher rate of desertion in Canadian Provincial units is understandable in light of the fact that these units were stationed in the same territories in which they had been raised and—with a few exceptions such as the Canadian Voltigeurs and Glengarry Light Infantry Fencibles, which took the pick of the manpower—were generally employed in garrison roles from which it was relatively easy to slip back into the civilian population.89 In effect, their circumstances were more akin to British units in the British Isles, where desertion was far more of a problem, than to those of British units on active service. For the foreign units proper, the dubious nature of much of the manpower utilized, particularly in later years, must chiefly account for the greater tendency to desert. If additional reinforcement for this assertion is needed, it should be noted that the two British units with the worst relative records in terms of desertions were the 33rd and 2/91st, both of which had recruited extensively amongst foreigners whilst in north Germany. On other occasions, what seem at first to be large-scale desertions from other British units turn out to be down to foreign recruits taking the opportunity to abscond; in October 1810, for example, the 1/3rd lost eight men, but “Seven of the men that deserted were Dutchmen who volunteered from Prisoners of War.”90 Whilst recruits of this description might remain with a unit if doing so represented the best alternative for the present, likewise, they were not averse either to taking a chance to desert when the opportunity arose. Thus, substantial numbers of Spaniards served with distinction in the Chasseurs Britanniques in various Mediterranean postings, but absconded en masse when posted to the peninsula.91 Similarly, there was a flood of deserters from the KGL units stationed in Flanders during 1814, although these were exceptional circumstances due to the fact that the Legion was in the process of being run down prior to its disbandment. Ordinarily, the KGL generally represented something of an exception to the rule that foreigners had no commitment to the service and were liable to desert, and it was only when the initial genuine volunteers began to be replaced by manpower from more dubious sources that the desertion rate in KGL units began to climb. Even then, a continued prioritization of the best foreign manpower for the KGL prevented circumstances in the Legion from becoming as bad as those in the other foreign corps.92

  Yet even allowing for a relatively low instance of desertion, a substantial return rate, and a distortion of the figures by an increased use of unreliable foreign manpower, there is still no escaping the fact that desertion rose sharply toward the end of our period. What was more, the closing months of the Napoleonic Wars, and the brief peace of 1814, saw several cases of mass desertion. Most extreme of all these cases was the 1/27th in Canada, which lost no less than seventy men in the single month of September 1814.93 The timing and location of that episode are in themselves significant, and will be returned to, but the same tendency occurred in all theaters, even whilst the fighting was still under way, and to an extent that was remarked upon at the time. When Major General John Byng inspected the 1/3rd in October 1813, for example, he noted that he had “endeavoured to ascertain the cause for so remarkable an occurrence as the desertion of twelve men in ten days—but without success. One man has since returned and surrendered himself. The others were bad characters and there is little doubt that they have gone over to the enemy.”94 As Wellington had done three years earlier in his letter to Liverpool, Byng expressed some surprise that desertions were occurring in such numbers, but writing off such occurrences as being down to “bad characters” seems somewhat naïve. Rather, these cases should be seen as indicative of a growing war-weariness, and a desire to escape from military life.

  This trend manifested itself in the high levels of desertion during the very final months of the peninsular army’s existence, after the announcement of peace, with 251 desertions in May 1814 and 377 in June.95 In part these desertions represented men who had built themselves a family during their years in the peninsula, and preferred to make a new life there, but there was also an understandable reluctance to be shipped across the Atlantic to fight a new war. William Grattan wrote eloquently of the fate of the “poor faithful Portuguese and Spanish women, hundreds of whom had married or attached themselves to our soldiers, and who had accompanied them through all their fatigues and dangers . . . had lived with our men for years, and had borne them children . . . had staunched their wounds with their tattered garments, or moistened their parched lips, when without such care death would have been certain; they had, when such aid was not required, devoted days and nights in rendering those attentions which only they who have witnessed them can justly appreciate.”96 The same restrictions that prevented many men taking their wives on campaign in the first instance now prevented many of the wives who had been acquired on campaign from continuing with their husbands; under such circumstances, and with France defeated, it is scarcely surprising that so many men preferred the tie of a family over the tie of a regiment, to the extent that they ran the risk of desertion in order to remain with their womenfolk and children.

  In similar fashion, late 1814 and early 1815 saw growing numbers of desertions in Canada, representing men not wanting to leave North America due either to a wish to settle or to an unwillingness to face yet another war in Europe; the mass exodus from the 1/27th forms part of this pattern. Desertions of this nature need to be read not as part of the ordinary wastage of campaigning, nor as the actions of disgruntled bad characters, but as a reaction to perceived rights and expectations being interfered with. In this regard, parallels may be identified with the situation in the closing years of the Seven Years’ War, in which men who were content to serve in the war that they had signed up for—in that case against France in North America—actively resisted attempts to send them on further service in the Caribbean or to withhold their discharges.97 Even when it did not develop into a resolve to desert the service, the feeling that hard-earned rights were being interfered with, and liberties taken with the terms under which men had enlisted, led to widespread disaffection. John Cooper had signed up for seven years’ service, and when he returned from the peninsula with the 1/7th—Sergeant Cooper, by now—he had only days to serve, and every hope of a discharge, when his battalion received orders to embark for the Americas. Even as the force lay at anchor off Portsmouth, seven-year men from the 1/43rd were discharged and sent ashore, but Cooper’s commanding officer was absent and could not sign the papers to release their counterparts from the 1/7th. By the time that the fusiliers were preparing to attack Major General Andrew Jackson’s breastworks outside New Orleans, the discharge date was long past, and Cooper was one of several who protested their case to their commanding officer Colonel Edward Blakeney, only to be told that “it could not be helped” and that they must join the attack. Only upon their return to England were the surviving seven-year men given their discharge, although news of Napoleon’s return led to speculation that they would be retained still longer. There is a decid
ed bitterness in Cooper’s telling of the conclusion of his service; he had fulfilled his part of the contract he had entered into, only for the British Army to fail to reciprocate. Cooper stuck it out, but it is easy to see why others saw themselves as within their rights to leave an army that had broken its promises to them.98

  Although the closing months of the period saw the most pronounced instances of desertion as a form of protest, the trend was not without some parallels earlier in the period. Unusually hard conditions also led to cases of desertion as a matter of individual protest and escape, as in the hard winter of 1811 when even so harsh a commander as Robert Craufurd was prepared to intervene with Wellington and present these circumstances as explanation, if not justification, for a spate of Light Division desertions. Wellington was not convinced, however, and when Private Joseph Almond of the 1/95th was recaptured the following year, his plea of hardship did not save him from the firing squad.99 But if some instances of desertion are to be understood in the context of protest, this seems to have been the case only at an abstract level. There is little or no correlation, for example, between units known for heavy punishments and units with a high incidence of desertion. Indeed, the 1/40th, commanded for much of the Peninsular War first by James Kemmis and then by Richard Archdall—the former portrayed by Lawrence as a flogger, and the latter removed for tyranny—has one of the lowest relative desertion rates, bettered only by the Foot Guards amongst long-serving peninsular battalions. Conversely, there does seem to be a more obvious correlation between units having a high reputation, and/or some pretension to elite status, and a low incidence of desertion. There was not only very little desertion from the Foot Guards on active service but none whatsoever from the three Household Cavalry regiments. Within the regular line, the general trend of desertion in light, rifle, highland, and fusilier battalions is generally better than the norm, serving yet again to reinforce the practical value of their strong sense of unit identity.

  If, then, we accept that, in addition to the caveats already noted, the desertion rate for British troops is to some extent further inflated by “protest” desertions stemming from the atypical circumstances in the last months of the Napoleonic Wars, the generally low rate for the era as a whole becomes even more remarkable and stands out in some contrast to the situation experienced amongst units serving at home. In contrast to the average rate of two desertions for every thousand men overseas between 1808 and 1815, the former year saw fifty-five desertions for every thousand men at home.100 This, however, is not entirely a fair comparison, since not only did home service make desertion a far more realistic possibility, with aid and concealment readily available, but additional motivations also existed with respect to the possibilities of deserting in order to reenlist for bounty.101 The tendency toward desertion by new recruits also helps explain the higher incidence at home.102 Over and above this, however, there is a strong psychological element to add to the practical; for many men who left accounts of their time in the ranks, their embarkation for service overseas seems to have represented a distinct cutoff between home service and the acceptance of active duty. Many memoir accounts place a particular significance on the first time the writer left Britain, causing a general reassessment of personal circumstances.103 For men being taken away from proximity to hearth and home, to a potentially distant and unfamiliar theater of war, the army, and more specifically the regiment, could readily change from an oppressive force to a place of security and refuge, to be left only under extreme circumstances.

  During the course of the period under analysis, the British Army, collectively and individually, benefited greatly from the practical experience of sustained campaigning, and this contributed to a reduced rate of strategic consumption. In this way, the connection between losses through sickness and losses through straggling and desertion is reinforced, since measures to improve the health of the army also rendered it more effective and, in conjunction with better logistical management, reduced the scope for the straggling and absenteeism that was frequently the precursor to desertion. However, on an individual level, an increase in experience also led to new sorts of problems. Thus, whilst greater experience of campaigning led to improved ratios of strategic consumption, it also led soldiers to develop a greater understanding of what they could get away with, how they could play the system, and what rights they perceived themselves as having. Whilst only a desperate or foolish man would completely abandon the security offered by the British Army on active service, the worst rigors of service could be circumvented by taking care to extend any opportunity to remain away from active duty. Such tendencies should not be thought of as universal by any means, as for the majority of the rank and file the key connection was with the regiment rather than the army as a whole, and it was deemed better to take one’s chances with one’s comrades than strike out alone. Nevertheless, enough men did take this approach to cause the marked discrepancies between the sickness rate as understood by the Medical Department on the one hand, and the sickness rate as understood by the regiments on the other: a discrepancy that can only be reconciled by allowing for the existence of the “Belem Rangers” and their like. Greater experience also brought with it a greater understanding of the perceived rights that had been earned through service; this understanding in turn could lead to feelings of grievance when these rights were infringed upon, culminating in the surge of desertions in 1814 and 1815. An experienced army was therefore a more effective army, but by no means a perfect one.

  CHAPTER 7

  Beasts of Burden

  The records of cases tried by Regimental Court Martial contained within many inspection returns are, for the most part, dry and sparse, giving little clue as to the details of the stories behind them. Nevertheless, there are some cases where a picture of the events leading to the trial can be guessed at. One such case is that of Private William McKean of the 5th Dragoon Guards, who was sentenced to two hundred lashes on November 4, 1812, “For ill treatment to the Camp Kettle Mule and disobedience of orders.”1 The date immediately conjures up a rain-sodden vignette from the early stages of the Burgos retreat, and we can be sure from the circumstances that the unfortunate McKean had already, for whatever reason, lost his own horse.2 For a cavalryman to be reduced to marching on foot was no doubt bad enough, but to be given charge of a mule—it being reasonable to assume that this animal was as contrary as the reputation of the breed suggests—no doubt added insult to injury. Add the fall in morale engendered by the weather conditions and the inevitable demoralization of a retreat, and it is all too easy to see the private taking out his frustrations first on his charge and then at whatever officer or sergeant attempted to intervene. Speculation perhaps, but if the above reconstruction approaches the truth, then it renders it abundantly clear how the suffering of the men in the ranks of the British Army was closely bound up with the suffering of the animals on which they relied, and emphasizes the vital role played by draught and pack animals in the force’s continued effectiveness on campaign.

  Quite apart from continual need for riding horses to maintain the mounted strength of the cavalry regiments, it is clear that without the services of thousands of horses, mules, and other draught animals, those campaigns could never have progressed beyond an initial landing. Inevitably, in a war where human lives were not infrequently lost as a direct or indirect result of famine and want, equine lives were often counted cheap; one of the few things more staggering than the number of animals needed to maintain the British forces in the peninsula is the number that died. However, the British Army—as distinct from the King’s German Legion, whose care for its horses is repeatedly lauded—has received a poor press over the years for the level of provision that the private soldier made for the animals in his charge. As we shall see, however, the real situation is far more complex, and the respective reputations of the British and KGL troopers have become increasingly distorted over the years. In fact, the statistical data with regard to strategic consumption of equine resources,
as with regard to manpower, suggests the existence of a distinct learning curve where, as with the manpower story, leadership and experience—not nationality—stand out as the true distinguishing factors between regiments.

  The Nature of the Beasts

  In addressing the general question of the British Army’s requirement for animals, two points need to be emphasized: on the one hand, the variety and on the other the numbers. As with all armies until well into the twentieth century, horses were essential to the British Army of the Napoleonic Wars. Nevertheless, one cannot take a general approach to horseflesh, since there was—and is—a world of difference between the animal best suited for heavy draught work and that best suited to riding. Within the latter distinction too, a far more substantial creature was ideally required for heavy cavalry service than the lighter, lither, mounts of the light dragoons and hussars, and a creature of a far better description than any troop horse was naturally de rigueur for all but the most impecunious of mounted officers.

  The range of requirements can be seen in a memorandum drawn up by Major General Herbert Taylor, intended for translation into Dutch so as to give advance notice of the animals required for purchase to facilitate the operations of Sir Thomas Graham’s forces then on their way to the Low Countries. As draught animals for the artillery, Taylor sought “Geldings or Mares, stout and active, with good bone, and in good order; having been broken to draught. Age from 5 years old to Eight Years and upwards. Size from 15 hands to 15 hands three inches. To be perfectly sound in Eye, Wind, and Limb, and free from any Blemish.”3 In order to prevent any confusion over the measurements, Taylor confirmed that “The Hand is four inches English measure.” Whilst that satisfied the formal military requirements, individual officers would need to purchase their own mounts, to which end Taylor went on to recommend that “it may be suggested to the Contractor or Contractors to provide 40 or 50 Riding Horses to be ready for delivery on approval by the Officers requiring them, at a price not exceeding from £30 to £40. Age from 5 to 8 years. Size from 14 [hands] 2 inches to 15 hands 2 inches.”4 As with many such attempts to obtain mounts locally, Taylor’s efforts would prove largely fruitless, but his specifications do provide some idea of the variety of horses that were needed.