Salamanca 1812- Wellington’s Year of Victories

by Peter Edwards

  The above exchanges were between troops of the French 7th Division (Thomières’) and those of the British 3rd Division (Pakenham’s). In a fortnight, fifty miles to the south, the latter were effectively to destroy the former.

  Kincaid and the 95th were at Rueda, half in the town, and half the battalion bivouacked towards the river. The Light Division obviously continued its light-hearted customs: the town

  Abounded in excellent wines, and our usual evening dances began there to be graced by a superior class of females to what they had hitherto been accustomed. I remember that, in passing the house of the sexton one evening, I saw his daughter baking a loaf of bread; and I fell desperately in love with both her and the loaf.

  The deadlock was blown open on 12 July with the late delivery to Marmont of a despatch from Madrid – albeit one which, thanks to the activities of the guerrillas around Segovia, had taken twelve days to travel 150 miles – and in which Jourdan urged Marmont to take the offensive. ‘His Majesty would like you to take advantage of the moment, when Wellington has not all his forces in hand,’ meaning Hill’s 18,000, last heard of advancing against Drouet D’Erlon. The same letter held out no hope of reinforcements, instead concentrating wrongly on reports that Wellington had only 18,000 British troops and ‘If this is so, you are strong enough to beat his army’. If Hill rejoined, that would be a different matter and if so ‘You must avoid an action as long as possible, in order to pick up the reinforcement that will certainly reach you in the end’. For by 9 July Madrid was suddenly more alert to the situation, and scrambling to create help. On the 13th Wellington had received a captured letter telling Marmont that Joseph was scraping together 14,000 men. This certainly was news he could do without, and apprehensions grew next day, with considerations of what might or might not come from Caffarelli, or from Drouet D’Erlon, or from Madrid, or from Suchet (having learned to his fury that Bentinck had changed his mind). Napier is right to suppose therefore the Peer’s head at this time ‘Was filled with care and mortification and all cross and evil circumstances seemed to combine against him.’

  Probably with some relief, then, he heard rumours, then positive reports, not only that repair work on the French bridge at Toro begun five days earlier still continued, but that there was growing troop movement towards that place. Foy and Bonnet were there late on 15 July; the divisions in the centre of the French line along the Douro, about the fords at Pollos, shifted towards Toro; and those on their left wing near Tordesillas likewise towards Pollos. Marmont was on the move and no mistake. Next morning Foy and Thomières crossed the river at Toro and set off south down the road towards Salamanca. Marmont was now arguably nearer to that place than his enemy, which meant the allied communications were naked. Wellington learned this about 7pm and promptly confirmed the warning order he had issued at 7am, to move west to a preplanned defensive line along the river Guarena centred on Canizal and Castrillo. Cotton with the Light, 4th and Anson, however, halted ten miles earlier around the river Trabancos, to act as rearguard in case some French had crossed higher up, at Tordesillas. The marching filled the anxious night hours of 16/17 July.

  The morning, however, brought confusing reports. First, that the enemy had halted. Then that they had re-crossed the river and broken the bridge behind them. Then – nothing, throughout the day, until late that evening came astonishing news, brought to Wellington now at Toros: Marmont and his army were four miles from the river Trabancos, Sir Stapleton Cotton and the Light and 4th Divisions! He was at Nava Del Rey, just ten miles south-west of Tordesillas! Lord Wellington had been humbugged!

  Forty miles had some French divisions marched in the night, counter-marching from Toros back to Tordesillas and re-crossing the Douro there, or taking a shortcut via the Pollos fords, pushing on to Rueda (which his Lordship’s headquarters had quit only fifteen hours earlier) and then sinking exhausted at Nava. It was a remarkable demonstration of French marching power, and nicely repaid Wellington for his own surprise crossing of the same river three years earlier, against Soult. Marmont now could easily cut off Cotton’s 5,200 foot and 1,000 horse and destroy them next day, almost at his leisure.

  The French feint to Toros had been masterly. To cross there was entirely reasonable and believable, as was Wellington’s anticipated reaction, designed to block the Salamanca road and secure his rearward communications. Wellington could do no other. At the mild cost of worn boots Marmont had levered the British army from the river, creating space to make an unopposed crossing. And, as so often, fortune favoured the bold. For it also created an unplanned windfall opportunity to leap upon two isolated British divisions. If Marmont could move his stiff and footsore men early on 8 July, a great prize lay adjacent, just down the road.

  Wellington had to get Cotton back, away from his vulnerable position. As ever, he rode like the wind to get the business done in person. He sent Leith’s 5th Division three or so miles forward of his main line on the Guarena, to Torecilla. This was halfway to Castrejon, where lay Cotton on the Trabancos. He took with him the five heavy dragoon regiments, and the two light regiments – of Bock, Le Marchant and Victor Alten, arriving with Cotton at 7am. Cotton’s own cavalry, George Anson’s three (11th, 12th and 16th) light dragoon regiments, had already clashed with the first probing French patrols before Castrejon. Tomkinson of the 16th rode out with a six-man patrol:

  I had scarcely got beyond our picquets when I met a squadron of the enemy’s cavalry. More were coming up, and in half an hour the picquets were driven back on Castrejon, and from the number of squadrons shown by the enemy, it was evident they were in force, and advancing. I joined one of the 11th, and with them retired on the brigade. We were a good deal pressed, and once obliged to turn round and charge. The enemy’s cavalry all appeared on the plain in front of Castrejon, and on seeing the brigade, halted their guns and ammunition and commenced a cannonade. Our squadrons were fortunately dispersed over the ground, and at first did not suffer much. Major Bull’s and another troop came up and opened against the enemy. Captain Buchanan was absent, which gave me the centre squadron. I was sent with it to cover three guns of Major Bull’s troop, and with my own troop moved forward and drove some of the enemy’s skirmishers off a small hill, on which the guns were to act; leaving the other troops at the foot of the hill, covered from the enemy’s fire . . . On the left, two squadrons, one of the 11th and 12th, were supporting two guns from Major Ross’s troop. The squadrons were supporting one another, and on the advance of some of the enemy’s cavalry (inferior to the two squadrons), the one in front went about. Some of Marshal Beresford’s staff seeing this, conceived the guns were in danger, rode up to the retiring squadron, calling ‘Threes about!’ This of course put the other squadron about in the place of the fronting one already retiring. One person gave one word, one another, and the enemy’s cavalry came up to the guns.

  And what was Beresford and his staff doing, up the sharp end? The Light Division had picquets forward, beyond Castrejon. Kincaid commanded one of them and explains the reference to Beresford’s staff:

  There arose all at once behind the rising ground to my left a yell of the most terrific import; and, convinced that it would give instantaneous birth to as hideous a body, it made me look with an eye of lightning at the ground around me; and, seeing a broad deep ditch within a hundred yards, I lost not a moment in placing it between my picquet and the extraordinary sound. I had scarcely effected the movement when Lord Wellington, with his staff and a cloud of French and English dragoons and horse artillery intermixed, came over the hill at full cry, and all hammering at each others’ heads in one confused mass over the very ground I had that instant quitted. It appeared that his Lordship had gone there to reconnoitre, covered by two guns and two squadrons of cavalry, who by some accident were surprised and charged by a superior body of the enemy and sent tumbling in upon us in the manner described. A picquet of the forty-third had formed on our right, and we were obliged to remain passive spectators of such an extraordinary scene goin
g on within a few yards of us, as we could not fire without an equal chance of shooting some of our own side. Lord Wellington and his staff, with the two guns, took shelter for the moment behind us, while the cavalry went sweeping along our front, where, I suppose, they picked up some reinforcement, for they returned almost instantly in the same confused mass; but the French were now the flyers; and I must do them the justice to say that they got off in a manner highly creditable to themselves. I saw one in particular defending himself against two of ours, and he would have made his escape from both, but an officer of our dragoons came down the hill and took him in flank at full speed, sending man and horse rolling headlong on the plain.

  I was highly interested all this time in observing the distinguished characters which this unlooked-for turn-up had assembled around us. Marshal Beresford and the greater part of the staff remained with their swords drawn and the Duke himself did not look more than half-pleased, while he silently despatched some of them with orders. General Alten and his huge German orderly dragoon, with their swords drawn, cursed the whole time to a very large amount, but, as it was in German, I had not the full benefit of it. He had an opposition swearer in Captain Jenkinson of the artillery, who commanded the two guns and whose oaths were chiefly aimed at himself for his folly, as far as I could understand, in putting so much confidence in his covering party that he had not thought it necessary to unfix the catch which horse-artillerymen, I believe, had to prevent their swords quitting the scabbards when they are not wanted, and which, on this occasion, prevented their jumping forth when they were so unexpectedly called for.

  Not far from Kincaid’s riflemen were five companies of Napier’s 43rd, Lieutenant John Cooke (fortunately for us) being one of his officers. We have been much indebted to Cooke (as indeed was Napier, who used his Memoirs as a source) for his animated descriptions of the fighting at both Rodrigo and Badajoz. The following extract presents charming images not only of the Peer ‘straight sword drawn . . . crossed the ford at full speed . . . smiling . . . quite alone’, but also of Cooke’s men showing proper concern for their company mule, and their breakfast tea. More importantly, we get a clear picture of the confusion caused by Marmont’s advancing cavalry, and the collective efforts of the Light Division’s infantry, cavalry and artillery to stem the tide.

  At break of day on the 18th, a few shots were exchanged to our right. The firing increased, and as the sun rose above the horizon, the cheering might be distinctly heard at intervals. Our dragoons became visible while retiring before the enemy’s horse and light artillery, which at intervals were blazing away. The scene was sublime and beautiful. An officer said to me ‘There will be a row this day; we had better get our breakfast, as God knows when we shall have anything to eat.’

  The tea service was laid out and a stubble fire kindled to warm the bottom of the kettle. Suddenly we espied some squadrons of French heavy dragoons in a valley to our right. They were pushing for the main road at full trot. An absurd and ludicrous scene now took place. Into the hampers was thrown the crockery and also the kettle half filled with hot water.

  ‘God bless me!’ vociferated another officer, who had come from the rear to have breakfast with us. ‘You will not desert my mule and hampers, they are worth 400 dollars!’ To get off seemed impossible, but the company formed column of sections and fixed bayonets, fully determined to cover the old mule, who went off with a rare clatter and we after him in double-quick time. The enemy were within 200 yards of us, brandishing their swords and calling out, then they saw some of our cavalry hovering on their right flank and drew up.

  A rivulet with steep banks ran parallel with the road, but we soon found a ford where we halted, intending to dispute the passage. The Right [1] Brigade had moved forward and deployed to the succour of our dragoons first engaged, about half a mile to our right. Two squadrons of our light dragoons then formed on a rising ground 200 yards from us, with two pieces of horse artillery on their right. About an equal number of French heavy cavalry, handsomely dressed with large fur caps, made rapidly towards them while our guns threw round shot at them. Within 100 yards of our squadrons, they drew up to get wind; our dragoons remaining stationary.

  A French officer, the chef d’escadron, to beguile a few moments while his squadron obtained a little breathing time, advanced and invited our people to charge. Holding his sword on high, and crying ‘Vive l’Empereur! En avant, Francais!’ he rushed on, followed by his men, and overthrew our dragoons. Fortunately, the guns had limbered up, and the horse artillery fought round them with great spirit. The enemy tried to cut the traces, but the drivers held down their heads, and sticking their spurs into the horses’ sides, passed the ford under cover of our picquet.

  Our company was formed up fronting the right flank of our dragoons, so we had an admirable view of the space between the combatants. The soldiers of the company had made ready, holding their firelocks horizontally at the charging position, but to have fired would have been unchivalrous. It would have destroyed the valiant French officer who, though our enemy, was an honour to his country. The Earl of Wellington was in the thick of it, and escaped with difficulty. His straight sword drawn, he also crossed the ford at full speed, smiling. I did not see his lordship when the charge first took place. When he passed us, he had none of his staff near him; he was quite alone, with a ravine in his rear.

  The French squadron commander who so nearly re-arranged the allied command structure, by the way, was warmly admired not only by Cooke, but also by his fellow officers James Fergusson and George Hennell. None of their soldiers would fire either on this French officer or his troopers. ‘Our men . . . were anxious that these few gallant fellows should escape . . . a brave soldier always admires dashing and bold conduct in his opponent.’

  If we assume Cotton, as local commander, attended his superior on his flying visit, we can conjure here a nightmare scenario, wherein Wellington, Beresford and Cotton were all killed or taken by the rampaging French squadron. Which prompts the question, just who was the next senior general after Cotton?

  Whoever in such chaos took over, the word would have been the same the Peer himself gave: withdraw. Cooke of the 43rd describes the march:

  Our Division was obliquely to the rear, in column of quarter distance, with fixed bayonets ready to form square, surrounded by large bodies of our cavalry. Six companies of the 2nd battalion of Rifles, just arrived from England, joined us on the retreat. To avoid an action seemed impossible. The enemy’s infantry were almost on the run, and we were marching away from them as hard as we could. While the round shot from a flank fire flew over us, a French division came running to engage and detain us until others came up. They obliged us to abandon the road and trample down a tract of wheat. The heavy German cavalry drew close around us.

  The country was open, and a vast sheet of corn enveloped us for many miles. The men became much distressed owing to the rapidity of the movements and the heat of the day. Owing to our numerical superiority of cavalry, which made a curve down a gentle descent, we were able to regain the road. Near Castrillo, the men descried, at a short distance, a dirty meandering stream called the Guarena. A buzz ran through the ranks that water was at hand, and the soldiers were impelled forward, their eyes staring, their mouths open. Within 50 yards of the stream, a general rush was made. I never saw the troops so thirsty. This took place under a cannonade which had continued, at intervals, for more than ten miles.

  Napier was commanding the 43rd:

  The cavalry were on the flanks and rear, the air was extremely sultry, the dust rose in clouds, and the close order of the troops rendered it very oppressive, but the military spectacle was exceedingly strange and grand. For then were sent the hostile columns of infantry, only half musket-shot from each other, marching impetuously towards a common goal, the officers on each side pointing forwards with their swords, or touching their caps, and waving their hands in courtesy, while the German cavalry, huge men, on huge horses, rode between in a close compact body
as if to prevent a collision. At times the loud tones of command, to hasten the march, were heard passing from the front to the rear, and now and then the rushing sound of bullets came sweeping over the columns whose violent pace was continually accelerated.

  Thus moving for ten miles, yet keeping the most perfect order, both parties approached the Guarena, and the enemy seeing that the light division, although more in their power than the others, were yet outstripping them in the march, increased the fire of their guns and menaced an attack with infantry. But the German cavalry instantly drew close round, the column plunged suddenly into a hollow dip of ground on the left which offered the means of baffling the enemy’s aim, and ten minutes after the head of the division was in the stream of the Guarena between Osmo and Castrillo. The fifth division entered the river at the same time but higher up on the left, and the fourth division passed it on the right. The soldiers of the light division, tormented with thirst, yet long used to their enemy’s mode of warfare, drunk as they marched, and the soldiers of the fifth division stopped in the river for only a few moments, but on the instant forty French guns gathered on the heights above sent a tempest of bullets amongst them. So nicely timed was the operation.

  The Light and 5th had joined the main army on the heights of Canizal, the 1st and 7th were above the ford at Olmo as the right wing, and the 4th extended the left near Castrillo. The 4th Division was closely followed by Marmont’s northern column under Clausel, who tried to bump Cole’s men off the hill whilst they were still settling positions. He sent General Carrie with two dragoon regiments (the 15th and 25th) right handed, to cross the Guarena by fords, but which were overseen by Victor Alten’s brigade; the French 6th Division under Brigadier Taupin at the same time crossed at Castrillo and put in a frontal attack. The allied infantry were directed personally by his Lordship, as ever on the spot. Faced by three regimental columns, each two companies wide i.e. battalion behind battalion, the 27th and 40th formed one line, each having a Portuguese battalion in close column on their open flank; the allied line being some four times wider than the French, their fire lapped around the deploying columns. In this typical line versus column affair, the exhausted blue coats quickly went about.