As it was, Clinton’s casualties were twice as heavy as anyone else’s, which is no surprise. The advance against Clausel, the pause under fire, the exchange of volleys, were all exposure enough to flying lead. Various brigade losses in the centre, expressed as percentages, are Hulse sixty per cent, Ellis twenty-eight per cent, Hinde twenty-four per cent, Stubbs and Rezende’s Portuguese both nineteen per cent and Pack’s Independent Portuguese fourteen per cent. Hulse was the big loser and we are fortunate that we have had several accounts of the severity of the fighting, involving the 1st/11th and the 1st/61st. The 2nd/53rd were left with just 199 men, say four companies worth, and did not take part in the second phase; the 1st/61st ended with 180 men and the 1st/11th with 176 – say each three companies worth. Indeed, if amalgamated they would still scarcely have formed a decent battalion. Their losses represented sixty-seven per cent and sixty-six per cent of their strength as at the State of 15 July – two in every three men were out of it. The 2nd/53rd’s were forty-two per cent, nearly half the battalion. Taken together, Hulse’s brigade had effectively become a composite battalion, and it was surely Hulse’s men that lay everywhere wounded, described by John Douglas of the 1st (Royal Scots) coming up behind:
near sunset, which appeared as red as sunset through the dense clouds of smoke ... the casualties so thick, while we passed on in pursuit, striving to avoid treading on the wounded, who were calling out for a little water for God’s sake . . . they pleaded ‘don’t trample on us’.
Ellis’s Fusiliers, to the left of Hulse, had of course already suffered in their abortive assault on Clausel. The right of the line was hit hardest, whether from the latter or from Ferey we don’t know. From left to right (lst/48th, 1st/23rd and 1st/7th) the losses were nineteen per cent, twenty-four per cent and forty per cent. (At Albuera they were sixty-six per cent, forty-six per cent and fifty-five per cent.) To the left of the 48th was Major Wackholtz’s Brunswickers, who reported little opposition from Ferey, so it would seem the allied line extended on the left beyond Ferey’s – hence the casualties being heavier to the right. This proposition is largely confirmed by the 4th Division’s AQMG (Charles Vere) who wrote:
The Fusilier brigade (commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Wilson, 48th) moved up the heights under a heavy fire, without returning a shot, and drove the enemy in its front from his ground. The brigade then brought up its left for the purpose of assisting General Hulse, by a flank and raking movement. But the formation was no sooner effected than the enemy gave way before the General and the defeat was completed.
While Claud-Francois Ferey, Baron de Rosengath, was himself mortally wounded, his Division’s casualties were surprisingly quite light. Lamartiniere’s return lists 1,001 men, which is a seventeen per cent rate. According to Ross-Lewin, as we have seen, the French chose to open fire ‘within 200 yards’, which effectively wasted the first and even the second volley. One must hope Clinton did not reply at that range. The onset of darkness as well as the usual smoke would certainly have much reduced marksmanship on both sides; the only other clue to the paucity of French losses is again something said by Ross-Lewin (not that it applied to battalions other than his own) ‘The fire of musketry began . . . Our men came down to the charging position, and commenced firing from that level.’ It is an odd phrase. Surely it is not credible that volleys would ever have been fired from the hip, but what else is meant? How does the rear rank fire?!
Putting Bonnet, Clausel and Ferey together, and Cole, Pack and Clinton together, on one side the losses were 4,299 and on the other 3,175. Some of the former of course occurred during the subsequent retreat. These figures for the five divisions involved which clashed in the centre of the field are much closer, as we shall see, than those for the entire field, and that says two things of note. Firstly, that the French commanders gave nearly as good as they got, shown by the repulse of Pack and Cole, the subsequent exploitation and Ferey’s dogged last stand. Secondly, that Pack’s losses were inevitable given Bonnet outnumbered him nearly three to one on and around the Greater Arapile, and he should never have been sent to capture it. The potential threat to Cole’s left flank by Bonnet’s 6,500 men required stronger protection, and that would have been the case even had Wellington sent Clinton rather than Cole, (whose men being largely under new management were especially vulnerable to pressure).
The last few men, inevitably the wounded and the lame, disappeared into the darkness of the tree line around 8.30pm. They went as quick as they could through the last formed body of the 31st Léger. Its two battalions, perhaps 1,000 bayonets, stayed formed as an inadequate blocking force within the wood, enough anyway to stop Clinton. It is said he had been ordered to pursue, but he did not, his exhausted battalions going but a little way into the wood before lighting their fires. It did not really matter, of course, for was not the bridge at Alba blocked by 2,000 Spaniards of Espana’s? The pursuit was the other way, to the east then to the north-east, to the fords at Huerta and Encinas, already used by Marmont to cross the previous day. His Lordship had first to push Foy out of the way, who had pulled back to a ravine in front of the wood: ‘I arrived at the edge of the wood half an hour before sunset,’ said Foy.
The battle continued to be extremely bloody; one could hear nothing above the continuous musketry and cannon fire. The French took flight. I decided not to enter the wood but to take a position very nearby, behind a ravine, in order to cover the retreat of the army. There was time; the victorious enemy was advancing towards Alba de Tormes between Calvarrasa and the wood, with two strong bodies of infantry, six cannon and 1,500 cavalry. I sent my skirmishers to delay their advance and they engaged them with artillery and musketry. Night saved my division and those I was protecting; without it I would probably have been broken and the enemy would have arrived at Alba de Tormes before the remains of our seven broken divisions. For an hour after sunset the English cavalry continued its charges on my regiments formed alternately in line and en masse. I had the good fortune to have my division in hand at all times and maintain its good order, although many of the broken units coming onto our left threatened to carry disorder into our ranks. The enemy’s pursuit stopped near Utero de Maria Ascensio, and all our forces found their way to Alba de Tormes where the army was gathered about 10 at night.
So Wellington must seize the Huerta crossings, and he would then have the Army of Portugal trapped inside the Tormes. Well before dark, he sent orders to Major General Charles Alten, commanding the Light Division. This account is by Lieutenant John Cooke, 43rd:
At seven, one of the Duke’s aides-de-camp rode up and ordered our division to move on the left to attack. We moved towards the Table Mountain, right brigade in front, in open column; having passed it, we then closed to column of quarter distance. The enemy’s skirmishers soon advanced, and opened a brisk fire. The shades of evening now approached, and the flashes of cannon and small arms in the centre and on the heights were still vivid, while the enemy were making their last struggle for victory. An English officer of General Pack’s brigade passed us, covered with dust and perspiration; he complained of the rough usage of the French. They allowed the Portuguese to approach nearly to the summit of the point of attack, then charged them, and used the bayonet without remorse, taking that part of the field under their especial protection.
The enemy’s light infantry increased, and retired very deliberately; the ascent was gentle. The first brigade deployed, supported by the second; the first division was marching in reserve. Our skirmishers were obliged to give ground to the obstinacy of the enemy. The line of the 43rd was one of the finest specimens of discipline I ever saw – as steady as rocks, with Colonel William Napier twenty yards in front of the corps, alone; he was the point of direction. Our skirmishers ceased firing, and the line marched over them, dead and alive. I expected to see our chief unhorsed, and carried away in a blanket.
Appearances indicated a severe fight, for we were near the enemy’s reserves. The Duke of Wellington was within fifty yards of the f
ront, when the enemy’s lines commenced firing. I thought he was exposing himself unnecessarily, the more so, as I heard he had put every division into action that day. The Duke ordered us to halt within two hundred yards of the enemy. They gave us two volleys with cheers, while our cavalry galloped forward to threaten their right flank. At this time I heard that a musket-ball had perforated the Duke’s cloak, folded in front of his saddle. As we were about to charge, the enemy disappeared. This advance was beautifully executed. Night coming on, the firing died away. We bivouacked round a village.
The ability to change formation, depending upon the going and the enemy is well shown by George Hennell, 43rd:
By this time it was quite dark [and] our skirmishers [3rd Caçadores] opened upon them upon the brow of a hill and the French immediately returned it which passed mostly over our heads. We had express orders not to fire until ordered. Our regiment was well prepared to give them an excellent charge but they had received another lesson that afternoon that they will not forget in a twelvemonth. Had they stayed still till we came up twenty yards further they might have given us a most destructive volley but they rapidly fired a volley or two that passed mostly over our heads and they ran away.
We advanced in line ½ a mile over corn and ploughed land. Then [we] formed sections of a company, keeping our distance & marched 2 or 3 miles over bushes and ploughed lands. On passing a wood our skirmishers, who were always about 300 yards in advance, opened a fire. We were in a good line in 5 minutes (it was only a few cavalry in a wood) & advanced dressing by the Colours over horrid roads with numerous pebbles another league. We halted and slept.
Cooke’s reference to the 1st Division being in rear is confirmed by their commander Henry Campbell:
[The French] Right then formed on a Hill and made a last effort, where they were attacked, just as the Moon was rising, by the Light Division in two Lines supported by the 1st (Division). They kept up a smart fire as we ascended the Hill, but on some Guns opening from a Hill on our Left they turned and ran for it, and must have made very good play for we followed them in the same order, the Light Division in two Lines, and the first (Division) in two Columns, one on each of its Flanks to support it, till near 1 o‘clock in the Morning, going all the time at a rate of near 4 miles an hour, without overtaking more than a very few stragglers and wounded, but as a great deal of our way was thro’ a very thick wood, we must have passed a great many that were picked up by others in our Rear. It is the first time I suppose, that ever Troops marched in Line for four hours across Country in the night, and they were in a very good Line when they halted, and our Columns also were in order to have wheeled into Line directly. We halted about one near the Village of Calvarrasa de Abajo.
On the right of Campbell, Wellington positioned the Fusiliers and Anson’s brigades from Cole, whose assistance Clinton no longer needed. Campbell, of course, gets his details awry, since 4mph for four hours hardly equates to the seven miles a crow would fly to Calvarrasa de Abajo; but other sources put his Division in support, with the whole halting at midnight. During the advance, as the route converged on that assumed to be Marmont’s, the lack of stragglers and discarded baggage would have become apparent. Foy had quietly sidestepped sometime before. As John Mills, 1st Coldstream, put it, ‘We were for some time at their heels, but they desisted from firing, and the wood was so thick we could not see them so we lost them.’ Some encouragement that they were on the right road, however, came from incidents like Napier’s
Squadron of French dragoons bursting from the woods in front of the advancing troops soon after dark, firing their pistols and then [they] passed at full gallop towards the ford at Huerta, thus indicating great confusion in the defeated army, and confirming the notion that its final retreat would be in that direction.
To settle the nagging doubts, Cotton was sent forward to the ford (and on his return was badly wounded by a Portuguese sentry) and Arentschildt was sent to Alba. The latter returned with the unwelcome news that the Spanish had gone, and the French were busy passing the Tormes.
What a bitter blow to his Lordship! One can but poorly picture his anger, although he was later reported to have described Espana’s action as ‘a little misfortune’. Tomkinson says Espana had ordered his garrison out of Alba castle before the battle, but deigned not to tell Lord Wellington, and then:
Before the action Don Carlos asked if he should not take his troops out of Alba – after he had done it – hoping for an order. Lord Wellington said ‘Certainly not’; and the Don was afraid to tell what he had done. Lord Wellington of course acted as if it was in our possession.
From Ferey’s ridge to the bridge at Alba is nearly six miles for our crow, or probably three hours for most Frenchmen that night, some in small parties, mostly individuals, few in formed bodies, and naturally all convinced British and German dragoons would any moment burst upon them. Lemonnier-Delafosse noted:
A shapeless mass of soldiery rolling down the road like a torrent – infantry, cavalry, artillery, wagons, carts, baggage-mules, the reserve park of artillery drawn by oxen, all mixed up. The men shouting, swearing, running, were out of all order, each one looking after himself alone – a complete stampede. The panic was inexplicable to one who, coming from the extreme rear, knew that there was no pursuit by the enemy to justify the terror shown. But alas! I know well that if the French have boldness and extreme impetuosity in attack, if they fail they are then shameless and irresponsible in flight. It is the fear of being captured that gives our soldiers wings. I had to stand off far from the road, for if I had got near it, I should have been swept off by the torrent in spite of myself.
But there was no cavalry, nor any immediate fit infantry, to catch the French. It was all very well for his Lordship, in a letter to Graham of 25 July, to say, ‘When I lost sight of them in the dark I marched upon Huerta and Encinas, and they went by Alba. If I had known there had been no garrison in Alba, I should have marched there and should probably have had the whole.’ That was wishful thinking. Several thousand more prisoners, maybe, certainly all the slow-moving wounded, but the light-travelling mass had too great a start by the time the 7th Division or Espana could have been brought forward. Indeed, even if Alba had not been abandoned, it is arguable that some part of the Army of Portugal would then have turned north up the road to the ford at Encinas: the Light and 1st Divisions, from midnight, were sleeping four miles away at Calvarrasa de Albajo.
We quit this chapter, and the narrative of the battle, with a French account of the final crossing of the Tormes, at dawn on 23 July. It is by Colonel Girard, Chief of Staff to Maucune:
We ourselves were almost completely hors de combat and in a most critical situation for our only line of retreat was across the Tormes a little below Alba. The enemy might easily have seized the bridge. Fortunately he spent the night collecting his forces and preparing to pursue on the following day. General Clausel took advantage of this to get his troops across the river, and in order to ensure that this was achieved without confusion, he placed General Maucune at the head of the bridge until the army was assembled on the further bank.
In order to protect the passage, General Maucune and I – the only senior officers remaining! – had with great effort collected a thousand or 1,200 men and Blanzat’s battery, now reduced to ten guns. Our advanced posts were so close to the enemy that we heard their voices. Wellington might, in the course of the night, have got some of his cavalry across the Tormes and attacked us simultaneously at both ends of the bridge. But fortunately he did nothing. It was dawn before his advance guard prepared to attack us. Our army was safely across the river, but it had not had enough time to reform and be ready for battle. General Maucune told me to cross the river and help rally the bulk of our troops. I asked to leave this until we had halted the enemy’s advance by our volleys and artillery fire, and so forced him to deploy. We would still have time to disengage and retreat across the bridge, while our cannonade would alert the general that the enemy had begun their ad
vance. Maucune accepted all my suggestions, and it turned out as I predicted.
CHAPTER 14
Salamanca Casualties and Comment
Earlier chapters covering the different divisional actions have given most of the detailed casualty figures and, so far as these have been helpful, we have attempted to draw deductions as to the intensity of the fighting and what happened generally. It is, of course, impossible to venture far down this road since, on both sides, such figures cover a timescale where some of the brigades or divisions took part in more than one action. For example, what did Cole suffer at the hands of Clausel, or Bonnet and Boyer, and what next, helping Leith against Ferey? On the French side, what of Thomières’s overall losses were down to Ned Pakenham’s muskets and what to Le Marchant’s sabres? Such unknowns, however, need not discourage healthy speculation!
As to the provenance of the figures, your author has taken the Morning States of 15 July for both Armies as set out by Charles Oman. The losses are those shown in the Return annexed to Wellington’s despatch, and the official Return of French casualties made out by Marmont’s Chief of Staff, General Lamartiniere. Unfortunately, these latter cover the period 18 July to 8 August i.e. including the fighting on the Guarena and (see later chapter) at Garcia Hernandez. A great many pertinent observations on both these sources are included in Rory Muir’s excellent Salamanca, whose tireless efforts in this regard seem quite definitive and surely cannot be surpassed. I pay him the compliment of following his calculations, rather than Oman’s, and certainly not of attempting any of my own.
Marmont took the field with 46,700 all ranks, of whom a quarter were returned killed or captured, wounded or missing. The importance of the first category is that these men were lost to the Army for all purposes, unlike those wounded who recuperated, or the missing, many of whom straggled in eventually. Killed and captured totalled 7,691 all ranks, wounded 4,099 and missing 645: a total of 12,435 all ranks, of whom 394 were officers. These figures are Lamartiniere’s which, of course, can be endlessly argued over as variously ‘fudged’ or distorted; but Oman (and Muir) come to fairly similar figures, by alternative calculations.
Salamanca 1812- Wellington’s Year of Victories Page 38