by David Rooney
General Amand Phillippon, a very brave and resourceful soldier who had risen through the ranks, with substantial campaign experience at Austerlitz, Talavera and Cadiz, commanded the French garrison of Badajoz. He was, however, a realist and knew that he could not hold out indefinitely, but he hoped Marshal Marmont, concentrating at Salamanca, or Soult in the south, would relieve him within three or four weeks. He and his chief engineer, Colonel Lamare, set out to make Badajoz, with its natural defensive position and man-made obstacles, a very much tougher nut to crack than Ciudad Rodrigo.
The fortification of Badajoz was typical of the style of the brilliant military architect, Vauban, with its nine bastions, mutually supporting, and connected by huge walls. The river Guadiana to the north, and the smaller river Rivellas to the east, gave added protection and created problems for the attackers. Man-made defences of ditches and palisades, with mines and accurately sited angles of fire support, would seriously worry a soldier of today, let alone Wellington’s troops, unassisted by twenty-first-century technology. The chevaux-de-frise, large pieces of wood embedded with spikes, sword blades, bayonets and long nails, which could be bolted into position or pulled across a gap at the last moment, make today’s barbed-wire entanglements look comparatively tame. Wellington’s men knew it but, being well aware of the time-frame and a desire to finish a thoroughly unpleasant job, coupled with a grudge against the inhabitants and thoughts of plunder, were keen to press on.
In simple terms, siege operations amounted to trenches or parallels being dug, along which guns could be brought up to battery positions from where they could engage the enemy and pound the defences. This would, hopefully, produce a breach through which the infantry could assault. An alternative, more medieval way was to climb the walls by ladder, or ‘escalade’. This was easier said than done against strong outposts. Well-led cavalry sallies from the garrison against those digging the trenches and battery positions, and accurate defensive fire, caused delay and heavy casualties.
Wellington had available the 3rd, 4th and 5th Divisions, each of two brigades, a brigade consisting of three or four infantry battalions. He also had the famed Light Division which included two battalions of Harry Smith’s 95th Rifles (later to become the Rifle Brigade). Thus, twenty-three British infantry battalions and nine Portuguese faced Phillippon’s 5,000 Frenchmen. However, the significance of the old military maxim that the defender has a three-to-one advantage over the attacker would not have been lost on either side.
Wellington decided to make his main assault on the south-east side of the town, first taking out Fort Picurina which lay on the eastern bank of the River Rivellas covering this approach. Twelve gun battery positions gave fire support to pound the defensive works and to provide covering fire for the assaulting troops. The Allies invested Badajoz on 16 March and launched their attack on Fort Picurina on 25 March; 500 men of the 3rd and Light Divisions led the assault. The bombardment had made a small breach in the defences, but the ladders were too short to reach the top of the walls. This and the withering French defensive fire caused heavy casualties – 300 killed or wounded.
Eleven days of bombardment and the frantic and dangerous digging of trenches continued until the main attack on the east side of the city on 6 April. The 4th and Light Divisions formed the left flank of the attack, with the 5th Division in the centre, and Picton’s 3rd Division on the right flank. At the same time, two brigades from the 5th Division and the Portuguese made a diversionary attack on the north-west sector of the city. But, as seasoned soldiers know, no plan survives contact. The attacks, led by the aptly named Forlorn Hope – the assault party always oversubscribed by eager volunteers – were thrown back time and time again. Again the ladders were too short. Again the ditches filled up with the dead and dying. In the melee, command and control became impossible. Harry Smith, in the forefront of the Light Division attack, described the chaotic and lurid scenes as they tried to climb the escalades:
When the head of the Light Division arrived at the ditch of the place it was a beautiful moonlight night. Old Alister Cameron was in command of four Companies of the 95th Regiment, extended along the counterscape to attract the enemy’s fire, while the column planted their ladders. He came up to Barnard and said, ‘Now my men are ready; shall I begin?’ ‘No, certainly not,’ says Barnard. The breach and the works were full of the enemy, looking quietly at us, but not fifty yards off and most prepared, although not firing a shot. So soon as our ladders were all ready posted, and the column in the very act to move and rush down the ladders, Barnard called out, ‘Now, Cameron!’ and the first shot from us brought down such a hail of fire as I shall never forget, nor ever saw before or since. It was most murderous. We flew down the ladders and rushed at the breach, but we were broken, and carried no weight with us, although every soldier was a hero. The breach was covered by a breastwork from behind, and ably defended on the top by chevaux-de-frises of sword-blades, sharp as razors, chained to the ground; while the ascent to the top of the breach was covered with planks with sharp nails in them. However, devil a one did I feel at this moment. One of the officers of the forlorn hope, Lieut. Taggart of the 43rd, was hanging on my arm – a mode we adopted to help each other up, for the ascent was most difficult and steep. A Rifleman stood among the sword-blades on the top of one of the chevaux-de-frises. We made a glorious rush to follow, but, alas! in vain. He was knocked over. My old captain, O’Hare, who commanded the storming party, was killed. All were awfully wounded except, I do believe, myself and little Freer of the 43rd. I had been some seconds at the revêtement of the bastion near the breach, and my red-coat pockets were literally filled with chips of stones splintered by musket-balls. Those not knocked down were driven back by this hail of mortality to the ladders. At the foot of them I saw poor Colonel Macleod with his hands on his breast – the man who lent me his horse when wounded at the bridge on the Coa. He said, ‘Oh, Smith, I am mortally wounded. Help me up the ladder.’ I said, ‘Oh no, dear fellow!’ ‘I am,’ he said; ‘be quick!’ I did so, and came back again. Little Freer and I said, ‘Let us throw down the ladders; the fellows shan’t go out.’ Some soldiers behind said, ‘D— your eyes, if you do we will bayonet you!’ and we were literally forced up with the crowd … So soon as we got on the glacis [the brickwork sloping defensive plate], up came a fresh Brigade of the Portuguese of the 4th Division. I never saw any soldiers behave with more pluck. Down into the ditch we all went again, but the more we tried to get up, the more we were destroyed. The 4th Division followed us in marching up to the breach, and they made a most uncommon noise. Both Divisions were fairly beaten back; we never carried either breach.
By midnight not a single British or Portuguese soldier had penetrated the defences, and the ditches overflowed with the dead and dying. Even the ebullient Smith was close to despair. Then to their amazement, they heard Allied bugle calls from within the city. Ironically, having spent weeks on creating breaches in the town walls, the successful assaults were actually made by escalade. Picton’s 3rd Division in the north-east had crossed the River Rivellas and, despite fierce French opposition, managed to scale the walls, but not to gain an entrance. The ladders were too short in many cases and men had to stand on each other’s shoulders to reach the top of the walls. Colonel Ridge of the 5th Foot (later the Northumberland Fusiliers) led the charge which broke the enemy’s resolve but cost him his life. (He was reputed to be the first of Wellington’s men into Badajoz.) In contrast to the repulse of the earlier attacks, the diversionary attack on the north-west sector by the brigades from the 5th and Portuguese Divisions, in spite of initially losing their way, broke in and effectively turned the French defences. Their success galvanized the other attackers to a final desperate and ultimately successful effort, but such was the strength of the defences that the 4th and Light Divisions were still unable to penetrate the walls until first light. Then the breaches were carried and there followed several hours of murderous hand-to-hand fighting. As the Allies broke in, General Phillippon rapidly wit
hdrew his troops to the San Christobal fortress on the north bank of the River Guadiana, and at 7.00am on 7 April 1812 surrendered the city. Then the mayhem began.
Chapter 2
Early Life
June 1787 to February 1812
I will make you a Rifleman, a Green Jacket,’ said General William Stewart to the seventeen-year-old Harry Smith who was on duty at a review held by the General in the spring of 1805. Thus Harry started his military career: no physical or academic tests, no interview and, importantly, no expensive purchase. Under the stresses of the Napoleonic Wars almost any young man who wished to serve and could read and write properly would have had little difficulty in obtaining a Commission. Not wealth nor land but literacy was the key, before education had extended to the whole population. This was the great social divide. However, to obtain a Commission in a particular regiment, purchase might well have been necessary. The General, to whom Harry, then in the local Whittlesey Yeomanry as his temporary orderly, clearly identified his potential.
Small in stature but an excellent horseman, Harry had been educated as well as his father, the local surgeon, could afford, together with his ten brothers and sisters. Harry’s birthplace in St Mary’s Street, Whittlesey, is now called Aliwal House (photo 2). Although pretty unprepossessing, it does have a plaque on the wall with the incorrect year of his birth, 1788 (photo 3). It is said that he was uncertain of this, but it is quite clear from a copy of the parish register in the Whittlesey Museum, Harry was born in 1787 (photo 1). In Harry’s time, the east end of the south aisle of St Mary’s Church was partitioned off and used as a schoolroom. It was here that he was educated by the Reverend George Burgess, then curate, who survived to welcome him back to Whittlesey in 1847 on his triumphant return after the Battle of Aliwal. This part of the church, having been restored in 1862 as a memorial to him, is known even today as ‘Sir Harry’s Chapel’. It is now in a fairly neglected state and used mainly, it would seem, for storage. However, there is a significant memorial to Harry there, including a sword hanging underneath, which would seem anything but decorative. Also in the church are memorials to his parents, a nephew and the family vault. Harry’s education and his standing as a gentleman were enough for the 95th Rifles and he joined the Regiment at Brabourne Lees on 18 August 1805. It has been said that Harry had difficulties in the Regiment as his brother officers were more aristocratic and had more money than he did, although there is no evidence of this. In fact, when Harry joined there were fifty-three fellow subaltern officers in the Regiment, none of whom had a title. In 1809 there were 140 peers or sons of peers among 10,000 officers on full pay, excluding the foreign regiments and veteran battalions. The fact that Eton, Harrow, Westminster, Rugby and Winchester provided only 283 officers between them suggests it was not the rich and privileged who dominated the officer corps. One officer in twenty was commissioned through the ranks. Harry – ever a spendthrift – did have financial problems for the rest of his life but, given the thoroughly inadequate rates of pay and haphazard administration of the Army, so did many of his friends.
Promotion, in those days, was often by purchase into vacancies or through exemplary behaviour in battle. Patronage also existed but was gradually going out of favour. There were no awards for gallantry but combat was eagerly sought for professional advancement into the gaps caused by casualties or the chance of promotion through distinguishing oneself. For these reasons, there was never a shortage of volunteers for the Forlorn Hope (the leading assault troops through any breach in enemy defences, or those out in front of a defensive line to take the first impact of the attack and identify the main enemy thrust). If you survived that, and few did, promotion was a certainty. However, luck was on Harry’s side as a vacancy occurred in the next rank up when the Regiment formed a 2nd Battalion in the summer of 1805. The 95th was very popular and recruited easily from the Militia. The Ballot Act of 1802 stipulated that all men between the ages of eighteen and forty were liable to be drafted into the Militia, and some felt that rather than remain endlessly training in England to repel an invasion which, after Trafalgar, was unlikely to happen, they might as well join the Regular Army. In 1805, when the Regiment required fresh recruits after the Corunna campaign, 1,282 from the Militia volunteered. With a loan from his father, Harry was gazetted Lieutenant on 15 September 1805. As Harry put it in his autobiography: ‘twenty-seven steps were obtained by £100,’ i.e. by purchase, he had jumped his fellow second lieutenants. He was even more pleased when he was quickly appointed Adjutant of a detachment of three companies of the 2nd Battalion which, in the summer of 1806, was ordered to depart for South America.
The South American operation was a hare-brained, ill-thought-out scheme instigated by the early success of the maverick Admiral Home Popham who, in early 1806, had taken it upon himself to seize Buenos Aires from the Spaniards. This incident really smacked of little more than a privateering affair to wrest gold, territory and influence from the Spanish. It was ill-coordinated and no attention had been paid to its follow-up or long-term aims. However, a small British army of occupation was subsequently imposed on Buenos Aires under Colonel Beresford.
To compound this military frolic, in October 1806, Brigadier General ‘Black Bob’ Craufurd of the 95th was given orders from 10 Downing Street to take four battalions of Infantry of the Line and five companies of the 95th to gain a footing on the west coast of South America, with a view to opening commercial opportunities with the interior. The aim of the expedition was to capture the seaports and fortresses, and to reduce the Province of Chile. The orders inferred that, from the success at Buenos Aires, his force was ‘probably adequate’ for the job. He was warned, however, not to go beyond Chile or to attack Peru and Lima. It was suggested that having sailed with Admiral Murray’s fleet either eastwards via New South Wales or westwards via Cape Horn, he should attack Valparaiso, a key town in Chile. The orders continued: ‘On your arrival at the West Coast of South America, much must be left to your joint discretion in respect to the precise plan of operations which you are to pursue.’ Having subdued Chile, he was instructed to treat the inhabitants rather better than their previous Spanish overlords did and establish communications 900 miles across the Andes Mountains with Beresford in Buenos Aires.
In the meantime, the Spaniards had easily retaken Buenos Aires and sent Beresford on his way, which meant that Craufurd’s orders, luckily for all, were rescinded. He was instructed instead to join Sir Samuel Auchmuty off the east coast of South America and come under command of the inept General Whitelocke, who was later to be court-martialled, and his second-in-command, Lieutenant General Leveson-Gower, who certainly should have been. Sensibly, Auchmuty decided to establish a bridgehead in Monte Video before moving south into Buenos Aires. The assault on the well-defended Monte Video was Harry’s first experience of battle. He wrote:
Upon the 20th [January 1807] the Spanish garrison made a most vigorous sortie in three columns, and drove in our outposts, a heavy and general attack lasted for near two hours, when the enemy were driven to the very walls of the place. The Riflemen were particularly distinguished on this occasion. The siege of Monte Video was immediately commenced and upon the morning of the 3rd of February, the breach being considered practicable, a general assault was ordered in two columns, the one upon the breach, the other an escalade. Both ultimately succeeded … The breach was only wide enough for three men to enter abreast, and when upon the top of the breach there was a descent into the city of twelve feet. Most of the men fell, and many were wounded by each other’s bayonets. When the head of the column entered the breach, the main body lost its communications or was checked by the tremendous fire. Perceiving the delay, I went back and conducted the column to the breach, when the place was immediately taken. The slaughter in the breach was enormous owing to the defence being perfect, and its not being really practicable. The surrender of this fortress put the English in the possession of this part of the country.
Harry was not to enjoy the euphoria
of surviving his first exposure to hostile fire for long, as he was immediately struck low by fever and dysentery. He was cared for, curiously, by a Spanish family from whom he learned his rudimentary Spanish, which was later to stand him in such good stead. He clearly loved the family and they him, urging him to marry one of their daughters, with a substantial dowry of as many oxen as he wished and a house in the country. He politely declined and rejoined, still as Adjutant, Craufurd’s force of the five rifle companies of the 1st Battalion of the 95th and the original three companies of the 2nd Battalion with whom he had embarked.
Initially the attack on Buenos Aires, led by Craufurd’s light troops, began well and the Spaniards were driven into the centre of the city. Then, instead of being allowed to press home his advantage, Craufurd was inexplicably halted by General Leveson-Gower and his force weakly withdrawn, while General Whitelocke could not be found. Encouraged by this, the citizens of Buenos Aires took to their flat rooftops to fire down on the subsequent attacking waves and enfiladed the British from well-sited fire positions along the streets, which were built on a right-angled grid pattern. Unaccountably, General Whitelocke forbade his soldiers to load their weapons for the assault – one of the charges at his subsequent court-martial. The attack began to crumble and Craufurd’s men, including Harry, were outnumbered and surrounded at the San Domingo Convent (photo 23). Craufurd had no option but to surrender. It was said that, while no blame attached to him for this debacle, he never forgave himself, let alone Whitelocke, at whose court-martial he was a witness. Crauford was evermore a ‘driven’ man, dying heroically leading his men at Ciudad Rodrigo in 1812. Harry’s views were understandable:
Thus terminated one of the most sanguinary conflicts Britons were ever engaged in, and all owing to the stupidity of the General-in-Chief and General Leveson-Gower. Liniers, a Frenchman by birth, who commanded the defence, treated us prisoners tolerably well, but he had little to give us to eat, his citadel not being provisioned for a siege. We were three or four days in his hands, when, in consequence of the disgraceful convention entered into by General Whitelocke, who agreed to evacuate the territory altogether and to give up the fortress of Monte Video, we were released. The army re-embarked with all dispatch and sailed to Monte Video. Our wounded suffered dreadfully, many dying from slight wounds in the extremity of lockjaw.