Salamanca 1812- Wellington’s Year of Victories

by Peter Edwards

  But Marmont did not attack. Foy, Thomières and a dragoon brigade were not yet up – they were expected during the 21st — and Marmont would need every man and gun he had. That evening he called his divisional generals (including Foy and Thomières, who were now present) to a Council of War, that time-honoured refuge for commanders in a dilemma. We are fortunate to have Foy’s Diary:

  At dusk on the 21st there was a grand discussion, on the problem as to whether we should or should not give battle to the English. The Marshal seemed to have a desire to do so, but a feeble and hesitating desire. Remembering Vimeiro, Corunna, and Bussaco, I thought that it would be difficult to beat the English, our superiors in number, on such a compact position as that which they were occupying. I had not the first word: I allowed Maucune, Ferey, and La Martinière to express their views, before I let them see what I thought. Then Clausel having protested strongly against fighting, I supported his opinion. Just because we had left a small garrison in the Salamanca forts, we were not bound to lose 6,000 killed and wounded, and risk the honour of the army, in order to deliver them. The troops were in good spirits, and that is excellent for the first assault: but here we should have a long tough struggle: I doubted whether we had breath enough to keep it up to the end. In short, I saw more chances of defeat than victory. I urged that we ought to keep close to the English, ‘contain’ them, and wait for our reinforcements; this could be done by manoeuvring along the left bank of the Tormes above and below Salamanca. Clausel and I set forth this policy from every aspect. The Marshal was displeased: he fancied that his generals were plotting to wreck his plan: he wanted to redeem the blunder which he saw that he had made in leaving a garrison in Salamanca: he dreads the Emperor and the public opinion of the army. He would have liked a battle, but he had not determination enough to persist in forcing it on.

  So even with a bare majority for attack, Marmont’s own inclination was not strongly enough held, and he very wisely held off. For who can doubt the outcome, had he pressed forward? The nature of the ground behind him and Wellington’s eleven cavalry regiments must surely have seen a complete rout develop.

  On the morning of the 22nd, Marmont spent some time on his left flank, reconnoitring the high ground beyond Aldea Rubia, to which he was thinking of withdrawing. He also moved close enough to the picquets for a brief but unsuccessful attempt at capture, by two squadrons. Wellington then sought to provoke him, once first light had passed without the anticipated action. He moved six howitzers (brought up from the town siege) and the 7th Division farther to the right, two KGL battalions pushing away the French picquets, and the 51st and 68th taking a feature 200 yards in front of Morisco village. Wheeler was with the 51st:

  As we advanced the shot whistled brisker, Sir Thomas was in front, he wheeled round his horse, and ordered us to deploy on the 1st Division. Sir Thomas sat with his back to the enemy shading his eyes with his cocked hat, watching the companies deploy. He expressed his satisfaction at the manner we had performed the movement. As our line passed him he said ‘my lads you shall give them a taste of your steel directly.’ We was soon within point blank distance of their line. Sir Thomas then gave the word double quick, in a moment thirty buglars was sounding the charge and off we dashed in double quick time with three cheers, and away went the enemy to the right about. We had now gained the ridge without discharging a single musket, our bugles sounded the ‘halt’ and ‘fire’. Two of our guns, on our right, opened on them, at the same time about a dozen of our Cavalry shewed themselves. The sight of the Cavalry induced the enemy to form square, what a glorious opportunity this gave us to pepper them. There they were about 150 yards from us in a cluster like bees descending the hill. What between our fire and the fire of our guns they were knocked about like nine pins. Having now gained our object Sir Thomas ordered us to fall back a few paces and lay down to cover ourselves from a battery of 14 guns they had opened on us. We were now comparatively safe. The square behaved very well under so sharp a fire, although their punishment was great they retired in good order.

  In this and the earlier confrontation, the 51st and 68th lost thirty-two men, and the KGL twenty-three. The 1st and Light Divisions were readied to act in support should Marmont take the bait, which he didn’t, and nor did he counter-attack, being content to await what he presumably expected would be Wellington’s own general attack. No doubt the preparatory movements of the 1st and Light supported this opinion.

  And that was that. Next morning the French were gone, the wheat slopes denied a bloody fertiliser. The bait of rescuing the forts’ garrisons had proved marginally inadequate, thanks to Foy and Clausel, and who no doubt were much relieved. The Peer on the other hand was much disappointed, and thus correspondingly impatient to finish with the forts. That night the 6th Division was ordered to assault them. And – probably — also that night the Duke of Ragusa was mulling over the Englishman’s caution. Was it not encouraging that his opposite number – winner of so many set-piece defensive battles with his predecessors – that day had not risked an attacking battle? What was wrong with the man? Some say Marmont did not himself realise just how vulnerable he had been, for those hours under the San Cristoval ridge. If that were so, allied to his coming success in out-manoeuvring this hesitant Wellington up on the Duoro, there may be an over-confident foot hovering over a banana skin.

  The episode of the three forts inside Salamanca city was frustratingly painful, in time and casualties. Both would have benefited had adequate artillery been available – it goes without saying adequate sappers and miners would never have been available, whatever the fore-knowledge. It is odd that his Lordship ‘was mistaken in my estimate of the extent of the means which would be necessary to subdue these forts’, for two reasons: firstly, according to Jones, the enemy ‘had been employed for nearly three years in constructing these works, but with increased activity for the last eight or nine months’; and secondly that in this period Father Patrick Curtis, surely his most diligent spymaster, had been sending his intelligence gatherings from the Irish College not 500 steps from the three Catholic convents concerned, all the buildings around which having been demolished, to provide proper fields of fire, and the builders with ready-shaped masonry. Something like twenty acres had been flattened — it was said to be a quarter of the city. Yet Jones tells that prior to the first reconnaissance, the information regarding them had been limited ‘to the extent that some convents had been fortified (together with) a confused sketch of the buildings by a Spaniard, not a military man.’ There is reference in a letter from Edward Pakenham (26 June) to ‘the under-estimating of the works by those who made the secret report, which was some months since.’ The picture, therefore, in Wellington’s mind no doubt was of shaky medieval structures, possibly with walls having windows stopped up, some loop-holed, with embrasures knocked into the upper storeys etc. – but not overall presenting much of a defensive obstacle. Perhaps Curtis could not see the import of what lay under his nose.

  Instead, using stone blocks and timbers readily available, walls had been doubled in thickness, protected by proper perpendicular masonry scarps, casemated counterscarps, deep ditches, palisades, bomb-proofs, bastions, and covered ways. The largest fort, San Vincente, abutted a steep cliff above the Tormes and stood on dominating ground. The two smaller, San Cayetano and La Merced, also on elevated ground, were separated by 250 yards of open ground and a deep ravine, the fire of each helping to protect the other. The smaller forts mounted six guns, two in La Merced which commanded the Roman bridge into the city, and thirty more guns with the better part of a company of artillery, in San Vincente. The three garrisons totalled some 800 men in six companies. These were not mere converted convents. An unidentified officer of I Troop, Royal Horse Artillery, (31st July) wrote, ‘The Forts . . . were very much superior in point of strength to the Fortress of Ciudad Rodrigo, and when we went through them [afterwards] we congratulated ourselves on getting them so cheaply.’

  Wellington’s ‘Means . . . to subd
ue these forts’ comprised a measly four iron 18-pounders and three 24-pounder howitzers, with 100, and 200 rounds for each piece respectively; three engineer officers; nine artificers; and entrenching tools for 400 men. This pitiful arsenal had one redeeming feature: the howitzers were (according to Jac Weller) not the brass field piece but iron siege howitzers which could fire solid shot. Which meant, as we shall see, they could fire heated or hot shots, with turf wads placed between the heated balls and the powder.

  Fire on the walls of San Vincente opened early on 19 June from two hastily built battery positions, but to little effect apart from consuming half the available ammunition. Next day two more howitzers arrived and part of the convent roof was brought down, but with only a dozen rounds left for each 18-pounder and thirty rounds each for the howitzers, the attack was suspended. This was the day Marmont moved forward to the San Cristobal ridge. On the 21st, when Ferey and Thomières had joined, Wellington had the five howitzers in the town taken forward to join the army on the ridge, and the iron 18-pounders were withdrawn from the city for safety, returning on the 23rd when Marmont marched away. They were placed in a new battery position and fire opened on the rear of Fort Cayetano. That night, without a breach but with a damaged parapet and palisades, it was stormed by escalade. Six light companies of Bowes’ and Hulse’s brigades in Clinton’s 6th Division — new to sieges – ran into withering crossfire. Only two of the twenty ladders were placed. Neither was climbed, ‘The undertaking was difficult, and the men seemed to feel it,’ as Jones said. The prevailing view was summed up by Lieutenant Ross-Lewin, 32nd, who wrote that ‘The result was precisely such as most of the officers anticipated – a failure attended with severe loss of life.’ General Bowes was killed whilst encouraging his men, and another five officers and 120 men (a third of the assault party) were killed and wounded. Altogether it was a bloody shambles.

  All the round shot having been expended, the next day (24 June) the guns and howitzers were again withdrawn from the batteries until, hearing an ammunition convoy was imminent, they were replaced the following day. Further saps were developed, including one on the 26th which approached along the side of the ravine; fire recommenced that afternoon, the howitzers lobbing hot shot; by sunset the tower of San Vincente and parts of the roof were ablaze. The garrison, however, managed to extinguish every outbreak. The hot shot fire continued during the night, so too the sapping, which approached the rear of Cayetano with a view to laying a mine, should the breaching not progress; and another sap from the side of the bridge came within twenty yards of the cliff, beneath La Merced, also to install a mine.

  However, after another four hours hard artillery work during the morning of 27 June, the hot shot eventually created an inferno in San Vincente; at the same time the second storm attempt was ready, lined up in the ravine, to go at the now-practicable breach in the gorge behind Cayetano. The whole area swirling with smoke, the fire spread to the fort’s immense store of timbers and gabions, and threatened the powder magazine. A white flag was hoisted on Cayetano’s breach, the captain in command requesting a two-hour truce, during which he wished to confer with his colonel in San Vincente. He promised he ‘Would anyway surrender at the end of the truce’. Sniffing prevarication, Wellington offered just five minutes to get his men out, or he would send in his stormers which, further haggling ensuing, he did. The garrison threw down their muskets. A similar process of white flag and warnings from and to San Vincente’s garrison, saw its capture, with a total of nearly 600 unwounded prisoners (from the three forts).

  Since this second attack was almost entirely bloodless, the 6th Division’s loss over these ten days, which Oman puts at 430, was not excessive. Add on the fifty-five casualties in the bickering with Marmont around Morisco, and for the equivalent cost of one of his forty-six battalions, Wellington had taken a battalion’s worth from Marmont, a major Spanish city and all that that entailed: a massive blow to French morale, delight for the Spanish, cheers in England and plenty of booty – engineers’ stores, clothing, rations, powder, three dozen guns etc.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Affairs at Castrejon and Castillo and Parallel Marching 1—21 July 1812

  Once the news of the surrender of the forts reached Marmont, he promptly withdrew north beyond the Douro. This clearance of the French from the whole of southern Leon – for the price of 500 men – could not last. What happened next was that Auguste, Duke of Ragusa, outfoxed Arthur, Earl of Wellington. Both men, however, had much to consider in the meantime.

  On his Lordship’s side it was all to do with numbers. That is, the chances of Marmont becoming stronger. On the latter’s side, it was all to do with reinforcements, if and when and how many. For Marmont sought to spill English blood and the sooner the better. He wrote to King Joseph in Madrid on 1 July ‘If only the necessary reinforcements, 1,500 horse and 7,000 foot, come to hand, the army of Portugal could take the offensive and with a certainty of success ... and Salamanca recovered.’ He knew Bonnet was on route, but would be a week or more – and then he would have his numbers up to parity with Wellington – unless, that is, Hill joined; but if only more would come! If men could march in from Caffarelli’s army of the North, or from Madrid, or from Soult, or from Suchet he could take the offensive with superiority. For the moment he held a twenty-mile line of the Douro, controlling the fords and bridges between Pollos in the west, Tordesillas in the centre and Simancas to the east. The fords near Pollos belonged to him. Wellington sat opposite with the 3rd Division, Pack’s and Bradford’s Portuguese brigades, Espana’s 3,000 Spanish, and the heavy brigades of Le Marchant and Bock on the left around Pollos. The Light, 4th, 5th and 6th Divisions held from opposite Tordesillas to Puente Duoro opposite Simancas. Alton’s cavalry were up on the river line, and Anson’s were across to the right. The 1st and 7th Divisions were the reserve, ten miles back around Medina del Campo.

  With no way to cross the river bar at Pollos, and hearing on 4 July that Bonnet was but two long marches from Valladolid, Wellington was determined not to fight an action in any disadvantageous situation, especially at a time when he also was catching rumours that Marmont was expecting a division from Caffarelli. On 9 July he learnt of Bonnet’s arrival a couple of days earlier, and four days later that ‘The King [is] collecting a large force at Madrid, especially cavalry . . . [I am] apprehensive that after all the enemy will be too strong for me’.

  On 13 July he wrote to Bathurst:

  It is obvious that we could not cross the Duoro without sustaining great loss, and could not fight a general action under circumstance of greater disadvantage . . . The enemy’s numbers are equal, if not superior, to ours: they have in their position thrice the amount of artillery that we have, and we are superior in cavalry alone – which arm (it is probable) could not be used in the sort of attack we should have to make.

  It was all rather disappointing. He had worked hard to galvanise his Spanish ally into actions which, had they worked in time and with proper effort, would have meant neither Foy nor Bonnet would have marched. The so-called siege of Astorga by the Spanish Army of Galicia under Santocildes, a place held only by three of Thomières’ battalions, was conducted in a leisurely way by some 11,000 men and no siege guns, whilst only a detachment of 3,800 had exploited the absence of the French to reach the line of the Esla, and towards Benevente to the south and east. Wellington had hoped for a much greater weight to flood across the northern Leon plain, to force Marmont to guard this flank and his rear. Astorga was to remain intact until the middle of August!

  This lack of pressure was in contrast to the 800 Portuguese cavalry under D’Urban, free-running north of the Douro, west and above Toro. Sadly, the Portuguese militia under Silveira, with whom they were meant to be cooperating, was not applying the agreed force against the garrison of Zamora. Only half the militia had even mobilised by 8 June, with little transport.

  So when Wellington wrote to London on 9 June, in part explaining why he had not crossed the Douro to challenge Marmon
t, he said ‘It would not answer to cross the river at all in its present [swollen] state, unless we should be certain of having the co-operation of the Galician troops.’ He had assumed by the time the river was practicable, Astorga would have been taken and Santoclides would have been well advanced. Well, not for a month and a half yet, your Lordship.

  The deadlock continued. On the ground life north of the Douro was altered for the worse for hundreds of French junior infantry officers, doctors, commissaries, sutlers and anyone with a riding horse: they were requisitioned, to mount horseless cavalry troopers. In this move Marmont increased his sabre strength from 2,200 to 3,200. But the price, apart from disgruntling so many junior officers, was that maybe one in four or five of Marmont’s cavalry thus would be largely untrained to squadron and regimental drills, and individual close combat.

  Also at this time of inaction, with the river Douro drawing small watering parties from both sides, as well as vedettes and picquets, there had developed a degree of fraternisation. William Grattan’s 88th participated:

  The French and British lived upon the most amicable terms. If we wanted wood for the construction of huts, our men were allowed to pass without molestation to the French side of the river to cut it. Each day the soldiers of both armies used to bathe together in the same stream, and an exchange of rations, such as biscuit and rum, between the French and our men was by no means uncommon. A stop was, however, soon to be put to this friendly intercourse; and it having been known in both armies that something was about to be attempted by Marmont, on the evening of the 12th of July, we shook hands with our vis-à-vis neighbours and parted the best friends. The French officers said to us on parting, ‘We have met, and have been for some time friends. We are about to separate, and may meet as enemies. As “friends” we received each other warmly – as “enemies” we shall do the same.’