Of the officer losses, 162 were killed or taken, and this roughly equates to the leadership of seven battalions, virtually a whole division. (For example, Maucune’s 5th Division had 165 officers, Taupin’s 6th Division had 179.) With a further 232 officers wounded – and let us suppose they were all taken to the rear – it is no exaggeration, therefore, to say that of Marmont’s seventy-two infantry battalions, he would lack all officers for the equivalent of eighteen of them. They would be entirely commanded by NCOs. Such figures allow us to understand Clausel’s major difficulties towards the end of the battle.
Compounding this cull to the regimental leadership, was the loss among his formation commanders. Thomières and Ferey were killed (the latter not instantly), Bonnet and Marmont himself were severely wounded, Clausel slightly, and Foy and Ferey both lost brigadiers. That is, half the Army of Portugal functioned under replacement divisional commanders, and the very top changed hands twice, with Bonnet standing in for Clausel until the latter, now wounded, was brought forward. That all occurred after Thomières had over-stepped his side-stepping, and Le Marchant’s hurricane was hovering. It is difficult to imagine a worse time for Marmont to be carried off the field, nor for poor Clausel to be elevated. His own division, far from being quietly in reserve, was coming up into the thick of it. In the event, Clausel surely added to his reputation, on both sides: there are indications that his repulse and pursuit of Cole and Pack in tandem with Bonnet, earned English admiration (if not from the Portuguese).
The French lost an astonishing number of prisoners, getting on for 6,000 (and more the next day), many of whom were unwounded, and there is little doubt the mass of these came once Le Marchant, with follow-up infantry, got on to the Monte de Azan amongst the now-unformed bodies belonging to Thomières, Maucune and Taupin. A thousand dragoons are simply too many to argue with, when you are unformed or in bunches. It is no surprise that their presence on Marmont’s left saw that part of his army suffer the heaviest losses: Thomières’s fifty per cent, Maucune’s thirty-four per cent and Taupin nearly that, but with two of his three 22nd battalions virtually destroyed. The worst regimental figures were both Thomières. The 101st Ligne, whose point battalion had to contend not only with being charged and dispersed by D’Urban’s 1st Dragoons, but later by Le Marchant’s, suffered eighty-two per cent casualties; while his 62nd suffered seventy-seven per cent (and their Eagle – or was it the 101st’s?).
Clausel, Bonnet and Ferey in the centre were all similar at twenty-six, twenty-three and seventeen per cent respectively, while Sarrut’s eight per cent was as noteworthy as Foy’s four per cent (Muir’s reasonable guess). Foy we can understand, but not Sarrut, which seems astonishingly low. Amongst his total loss of 384 all ranks, he had just five wounded officers – five out of 203! One really does wonder if his emergence from the woods to appear on the Monte de Azan simply coincided with that period following Le Marchant’s death, when the cavalry were blown, and when most infantry efforts were on gathering and escorting prisoners. This was before Clinton’s second push, at Ferey. It is certain that during this lengthy period Pakenham and Leith were not actively aggressive; and once Sarrut fell back behind the left of Ferey, of course, he was out of it. Marmont’s cavalry remained largely intact, with just over 400 casualties amongst the twenty-four squadrons – say seventeen men out of an average squadron strength around 150, or eleven per cent. Both Boyer and Curto were similar, being rather notably absent from the battle’s various phases, except for Boyer’s assistance to Bonnet. We should recall perhaps a quarter of Curto’s horses, and a fifth of Boyer’s, were unschooled hacks, taken from the infantry. Even so, the 53rd (Shropshires) certainly had cause to remember French dragoons.
A dozen guns were lost, according to Lamartinière, (eleven in Wellington’s Return of Ordnance) out of the seventy-eight deployed. His Despatch however says ‘It is believed 20 have fallen into our hands’, which would seem nearer the mark. For Bonnet’s battery was mostly man-packed onto the Greater Arapiles, and Colonel Bouthmy surely never got them down in time as he fled Campbell’s German skirmishers; and it is hard to see Thomières’ battery getting away. We can see why Lamartiniere might not wish to overstate to Napoleon the number of French guns lost, but not our own Ordnance Return. Apart from guns, the capture of which are always highly prized, other trophies included two Eagles and six battalion Colours or fannions. So much for Marmont’s force.
Wellington took the field with a force 51,937 strong, of whom 30,578 or fifty-nine per cent of the whole were British or KGL. That was 5,200 more than his opponent, say an extra ten per cent or the equivalent of another infantry division. Wellington lost 5,220, of whom 694 were killed, 4,270 were wounded and 256 missing – these figures from the Return. Both British and Portuguese lost similarly (ten and eleven per cent), the British 3,176 men from their 30,578 and the Portuguese 2,038 from their 17,999. The estimated 3,360 Spaniards, who were not used in any meaningful way, suffered just six men hit, two fatally (0.2 per cent). Thus the British paid sixty per cent of the price of victory, their Portuguese allies the other forty per cent, the Spanish nothing.
Henry Campbell’s 1st Division and John Hope’s 2nd Division were little involved in the battle proper, except at the end and the beginning, and their paltry casualties reflect a quiet day: 153 men and 142 men respectively, which are rates of two and three per cent. Bradford’s Portuguese brigade similarly were effectively unused, losing seventeen men out of 1,894. It is a measure, therefore, of his Lordship’s ‘spare capacity’ that he had therein some 13,500 men, in twenty-one battalions, untouched and available. Plus of course the Spaniards.
Edward Pakenham’s 3rd Division marched, volleyed and charged hard and received their just return of (relatively) light casualties, bearing in mind what they achieved. Their modest price was seventy-four killed and 460 men wounded. The 88th Connaught Rangers’ enthusiasm and the 5th Northumberlands’ tangle with the chasseurs accounted for 261 or half the bill. Pakenham’s Portuguese brigade under Power escaped lightly, with just seventy-six casualties or three per cent.
Lowry Cole’s 4th Division, of course, had a busy day attacking Clausel, retreating, attacking Clausel; attacking Ferey with Clinton; then on the right of Campbell attacking Foy in the dark. Perhaps the loss of one man in every five after all that is not too excessive? Among his five British battalions the extremes were just eight men lost to the 3rd/27th (one per cent) as the static garrison on the Lesser Arapile, to 195 men (forty per cent) for the 7th Royal Fusiliers, who as right of the line caught just about the worst of each phase. My own regiment, the 1st/48th (Northamptons) lost seventy-nine men or nineteen per cent, of whom ten were officers – half the leadership, and three of whom were still recovering from wounds collected at Badajoz! Cole’s Portuguese brigade under Stubbs lost a similar proportion of nineteen per cent.
In Leith’s 5th Division, the lead brigade (Greville’s) suffered nearly four times the casualties (400) of Pringle in the second line (105). This was in effect a spectacular large brigade attack by five battalions, of some 2,800 bayonets, and it broke Maucune’s nine battalions of 4,800 bayonets: sufficiently anyway for Le Marchant then to run through them. Leith was, of course, lucky to catch Maucune in half-formed squares and columns. Without the dragoons, however, Maucune would probably have reformed, and no doubt Pringle’s and Spry’s Portuguese would then have had to help Greville. Leith’s total casualties were 628 or nine per cent, a very cost-effective attack thanks partly to the proximity of Le Marchant, partly to Maucune’s unprepared formations, and partly to Leith’s aggressively quick assault.
Clinton’s 6th Division took on Bonnet, Clausel and Ferey, so not surprisingly was the most knocked-about division, with a total of 1,680 casualties, or nearly a third of his force. Hulse’s brigade of the 1st/11th, 2nd/53rd and 1st/61st between them accounting for 849 losses, the remainder being split between Hinde and Rezende’s Portuguese. Gunfire from Ferey’s ridge and the Greater Arapiles undoubtedly caused havoc in the
lull, but the puzzling business of a continuing exchange of volleys, rather than closing to charge, probably laid many men low. It was John Douglas, 3rd/1st, part of Leith’s follow-up division, who noted: ‘Our poor fellows [6th Division in front] having to bear up against the united fire of cannon or musketry, their ranks thinned ere they commenced to climb the hill... Never saw British casualties so thick, while we passed on in pursuit, striving to avoid treading upon the wounded.’
Cotton’s cavalry generally were little troubled in their work, which was largely that of cutting at men on the ground, not those in a saddle. The 5th Dragoon Guards came off worst, probably at the hands of Maucune’s 15th Ligne on the left, losing a troop’s worth of fifty-six men out of their six troops (seventeen per cent); the 3rd and 4th Dragoons, roughly half a troop each, a total of 105 men for Le Marchant’s brigade, of whom twenty-three were killed. Anson’s Light Dragoons lost only three dead and two wounded; Victor Alten three dead and twenty-eight wounded; and D’Urban seven dead and thirty wounded and missing. Bock’s KGL dragoons and Julian Sanchez’s two Spanish lancer regiments got off scot-free. While one can understand the need for Bock to cover the left flank of the army, especially in the early stages, the addition to Le Marchant of 1,000 vengeful Spanish Lancers might have been interesting. It would also have been a diplomatic act of inclusion towards our otherwise disregarded ally; one doubts however that his Lordship ever over-concerned himself with such considerations. The British cavalry losses overall have been put at 178, a paltry four per cent.
What was not so paltry were the injuries both permanent and temporary to his commanders: Le Marchant dead, Beresford, Cole, Cotton, Leith and Alten carried away with severe wounds, so, too, two commanders of Portuguese brigades (Collins and Rezende). Wellington himself was mildly bruised late in the day by a spent ball; had he been taken off the scene earlier, presumably Beresford would have assumed the command. He in turn was carted away during Cole’s embarrassing movement, then Cotton was next in line. He being wounded that evening, the pursuit next day would subsequently have fallen upon Henry Clinton. (The prospect of which would no doubt have seen gallopers urgently despatched to fetch up Hill from Estremadure.) That none of this was to happen is little short of amazing, considering the constant exposure our ’Atty seemed to embrace. Not for him a snug post on a hill, telescope positioned ready, a queue of mounted ADCs waiting to relay orders. He was reportedly everywhere, and for once here is a battle when his movements can be reasonably well traced. Their main feature was their appropriateness to the action; for while a general commanding in a defensive position can indeed put himself under a prominent tree, and largely stay there, in attack he must be wherever the shifting pressure points occur, preferably five minutes before they do.
We know he rushed three miles to Pakenham and there delivered a personalised instruction, the exact words have been variously reported but the manner appeared firm, clear and decisive; we know he had first caught up with Brigadier D‘Urban, and briefed him; we know he then went to speak near Las Torres with Le Marchant; and then onto Leith; and then with Cole. So all the major opening phases of the action were personally generated by Lord Wellington. Earlier, having lost the race for the Greater Arapile, and aware of the pivotal importance of the Lesser, he impressed upon Colonel MacLean, 3rd/27th, ‘You must defend this position so long as you have a man’. Then later he was said to ride behind Leith’s first line, and then to be present with (or close behind) the dragoons, allowing him to make the anecdotal remark to Cotton ‘By God, Cotton, I never saw anything more beautiful in my life! The day is yours!’; and again towards the end ‘The Duke of Wellington was within 50 yards of the front, when the enemy’s lines commenced firing . . . He ordered us to halt ... etc.’ (John Cooke, 43rd) And ‘when we came under the hill the enemy were upon, Lord Wellington passed us and said “Come fix your bayonets, my brave fellows”.’ (George Hennell)
This manner of personal presence at critical points can be criticised. It was always a fine conceit of Montgomery that he went to bed once he had issued his orders. Certainly too close a contact with events can take the mind off the bigger picture. However, who would argue that the 4th Division and Pack’s Portuguese were saved by the 6th Division marching through, to take up the burden of the day? That was possible because Wellington had ordered Clinton forward before the repulse, as he read the developing situation, and which he was only able to do because he was on the spot. It also helped that Wellington’s dispositions were based on his interior lines, while Marmont suffered from exterior: that is, the theoretical concentration from one decisive spot on the enemy’s front, to another, involved a shorter period of time than that taken by the enemy’s reserves, between the same two points. Now, of course, it is true our scenario does not precisely fit that definition, but the 6th and 7th Divisions could undoubtedly be brought forward to assist Cole or Leith quicker than Marmont could bring forward Foy, Ferey or Sarrut.
One reason Wellington did seem constantly adjacent to his advancing troops was his fear they would get carried away, and become vulnerable to counter-attack. ‘Lord Wellington . . . Had always expressed himself as afraid of the impetuosity of the British troops in attack, carrying them forward in disorder after the first driving of the enemy, and giving them the only chance they can possibly have of defeating us.’ (John Burgoyne) This fear, based on little actual precedent in the infantry, but fuelled by the mounted arm, proved groundless apart from a certain enthusiasm on the Monte by Wallis and the 88th ‘whose impetuosity was found most difficult to restrain.’ Had Leith’s 5th Division felt so inclined, of course, they were largely prevented by the sudden arrival of Le Marchant’s dragoons, so we shall never know; neither did such opportunity arise for Cole’s 4th Division, or for Pack’s Portuguese; and Clinton’s 6th were hardly likely to go blundering off in ill-disciplined pursuit, into a dark wood, after what they had been through.
In this regard only a part of the allied army was tested. Maybe if the 1st, 7th and Light Divisions (and Bradford’s Portuguese) had had an opportunity to show ‘impetuosity’, they might have obliged? For in truth the battle was fought between forty-one battalions (twenty-six British and fifteen Portuguese) – some 26,000 men, and sixty-four French battalions or 38,000. The negligible losses amongst Wellington’s three unused divisions gave him some 15,000 spare men – three times what Clausel could similarly claim in Foy’s division. This raises two thoughts: firstly, with that numerical advantage remaining at the end of the day, could not Wellington have done even better? Did he under-use his resources? Especially having chosen not to use the 1st or 7th rather than Cole’s 4th and Pack to take on Clausel and Bonnet; or to assist Clinton against Ferey: it is as if having carefully saved them, he then forgot them.
The answer lies at Alba, surely. They were not forgotten, they remained out of action precisely because Wellington wished to have fresh troops for the pursuit he hoped he could engineer. He led them himself, the Light and 1st Divisions, supposing that (round the next corner) he would surely come upon his limping prey. But this final flourish was denied him by Espana.
The second deduction from the disparity of troops actually engaged must be that his soldiers fought better than Marmont’s. That is not to belittle the French in any particular, who saw off Cole and a ridiculously outnumbered Pack in easy fashion, and much reduced Clinton; while Ferey and Foy were instrumental in the final holding action, showing fine discipline when many would have joined the sauve-qui-peut. Even Thomières’s rout on the Pico we can blame on him, not his soldiers, for never was a division caught misformed so inappropriately for the terrain. And along a similar fault line, Maucune’s men also may be absolved from responsibility, which lay rather with their commanders, for more inappropriate misformations. If we are correct, that is, to assume Maucune was preparing to meet Leith in columns. He must have had twenty minutes warning. Perhaps he planned a downhill charge in columns? But then, as John Douglas noted, coming up over the crest the ‘French seem to
be taken by surprise as (British cavalry) advanced with us on our right . . . The enemy seemed to be rather in confusion ... The cavalry were to them a puzzle. [They] seem to have formed parts of squares and parts of lines.’ No wonder Leith’s volley, in response to Maucune’s, delivered a far harder punch, and in the confusion of muddled, misformed ranks the approaching charge was never going to be held. Once out of formation, there is no hope against 1,000 sabres. But it was hardly the fault of the poor poilu.
The morale of infantry – their spirit – makes or breaks opportunities, overcomes or buckles beneath difficulties, and owes everything to their immediate leaders. Confidence in the subaltern, respect for the sergeant, perhaps a certain pride in the company commander’s eccentricities, enough food and certainly drink, spare flints and a settled comradeship with their long-term mates – and yes, that includes the few female mates allowed to tag along – all are ingredients for a good spirit. The Fusilier Brigade showed they had it, in the way they bounced back from trouble: ‘[They] were furious with themselves for having allowed the enemy to gain the advantage. In about five minutes they were formed in perfect order at a short distance below, and they then re-ascended the hill most gallantly.’ (John Burgoyne) The fact that the overtaking 6th Division might have shouted out ‘Be ashamed, Fusiliers!’ would no doubt have stiffened their resolve; but with the largely second-eleven leadership touched on earlier, a major problem shared only by the Light Division, it says much for the underlying spirit of Cole’s troops. Morale, like individual courage, has been likened to a bank deposit account, which can be added to, and drawn upon. This day’s work unquestionably saw a substantial British cheque paid in, to both the infantry and cavalry sub-accounts.
Salamanca 1812- Wellington’s Year of Victories Page 39