Surrender at New Orleans

by David Rooney

  Whitelocke was subsequently cashiered in March 1808 having been found guilty of six of the seven charges against him.

  On 12 July 1807, Harry sailed for England and, enduring the dangers and difficulties of sailing in those days, returned, aged still only nineteen, to his beloved family in Whittlesey.

  Harry had two months’ leave before rejoining the Regiment at Colchester where, to his delight, in the light of his combat experience in South America, he was given command of a company. By all accounts, this company was pretty rough, although probably typical of the times. There is however a mystery – why should soldiers who were recruited from the dregs of society, were far from patriotic, and who were neglected and badly treated by their government and population, fight so well under incredibly harsh conditions? There was no doubt that the British soldier was well up to any of his opposite numbers on the Continent, and there is no evidence that it was the fear of the lash or gibbet that sent him again and again into a breach or line of enemy. It has been suggested that one reason was the confidence the soldiers felt in Wellington’s personal leadership. While he strongly disapproved of senior officers exposing themselves to enemy fire by being too far forward, he obeyed no such stricture himself and, consequently, was relatively well known and recognized down to a very low level. Wellington himself said, ‘When I come myself, the soldiers think that what they have to do is the most important, since I am there, and all will depend on their exertions. Of course, these are increased in proportion, and they will do for me what, perhaps, no one else can make them do.’ However, for most, an additional important factor was the pride they felt in their regiment. In many ways, the Regiment represented all that they lacked as social outcasts: home, family and friends. It gave them the security and stability which was so lacking elsewhere in their lives. Additionally, the quality of the regiments depended on the relationship between the officers and their men. In Regulations for the Rifle Corps it was laid down that:

  Every inferior, whether officer or soldier, shall receive the lawful commands of his senior with deference and respect, and shall execute them to the best of his power. Every superior in his turn, whether he be an officer or non-commissioned officer, shall give his orders in the language of moderation and of regard to the feelings of the individual under his command; abuse, bad language and blows being positively forbidden in the Regiment.

  Most of the officers, in addition to courage, well understood the art of leadership.

  Harry’s generation had grown up knowing nothing but a state of war with France. Today our servicemen and women may be sent willy-nilly to the Balkans, Iraq or Afghanistan in support of supposed national or international policies; similarly, Harry found himself in a short space of time in Spain, in South America and in the Baltic. In 1807, just when he was returning from South America, Britain faced a very severe threat. Napoleon had defeated Russia and had dictated the Treaty of Tilsit, by which he intended to amalgamate the navies of Denmark, Sweden, Russia and France in a major challenge to Britain’s naval supremacy and its crucial trade with the Baltic. During the summer of 1807, within weeks of the Tilsit Treaty, Britain sent a powerful force of battleships and frigates, and 25,000 troops, to attack Copenhagen.

  Outrageously, the British demanded that the Danes hand over their fleet, a demand that was instantly rejected. Lord Cathcart, commanding the expedition, then landed the majority of the troops – many of them Germans from Hanover. While the warships faced Copenhagen from the sea, the army, with powerful reinforcements of artillery, surrounded the city from the land side. This totally illegal act against a neutral country caused serious concern to many of the commanders and officers involved. One naval captain deplored it as totally unjustifiable, while a doctor serving in a battleship said he felt for the disconsolate inhabitants while the army reduced the land around the city to a melancholy waste.

  At the end of August 1807, Sir Arthur Wellesley, commanding a division surrounding Copenhagen, and already showing those skills which came to fruition in the Peninsula, decisively defeated the main Danish forces at Kiogo, just south of the city, and took 1,000 prisoners. In the aftermath of that victory Wellesley’s troops desecrated the neatly kept cemeteries, and – with shades of Badajoz – grabbed jewels and tore earrings from the local women. Wellesley’s victory prompted another demand for the Danes to surrender their fleet and when this was refused on 2 September, the British started a major bombardment of the city – one of the finest in northern Europe. The bombardment started with salvoes of shells and red-hot cannon balls from the battleships, as well as the new-fangled Congreve rockets, which continued for three days and nights. In the end the city was almost completely destroyed, including the cathedral, famous churches, the royal palace and all the major buildings in the capital. An observer wrote: ‘We used to sit up at night watching shells and rockets flying through the air like so many blazing comets.’ On 7 September, the Danes gave in. The city had suffered about 2,000 casualties, mostly civilians including women and children. Many eyewitnesses among the British soldiers graphically described the appalling suffering of the people. The people of Copenhagen were dignified in defeat, but when the British seized over fifty ships and naval stores enough to fill ninety transports, they were absolutely outraged.

  The attack on Copenhagen proved to be a valuable taste of war for the military and naval forces which took part, including the 28th and 75th of Foot (later the Gloucester Regiment and Gordon Highlanders respectively) and many artillery units, but for Denmark it was an undeserved and total disaster, with the destruction of their thriving overseas trade and the loss of Norway, over which they held sway, to Sweden in war reparation. In England the Government came under strong criticism from both Houses of Parliament. Wilberforce, at the height of his power from the anti-slavery issue at this time, claimed that our national reputation was besmirched, while many of the commanders who took part deplored what they had been forced to do. One stated, ‘There is no shame left.’ Harry’s unit only took part in what was an ineffective follow-up to the main action and was positioned further north along the Swedish coast near Gothenburg. Active as ever, when his troops were briefly landed, he organized an athletics contest and managed to win the long jump with a leap of 19 feet. The whole of the Copenhagen expedition remains a good early example of the forces’ reaction to an unjust war. For many commanders and troops alike, though, this operation provided a dress rehearsal for what was to come in Spain.

  By 1808, Spanish guerrillas – in contrast to the regular Spanish forces – operating across the whole of the Peninsula from Aragon to Portugal, had inflicted serious damage on the French armies. This was a major factor in the British decision to mount an expedition to Portugal. Thus Harry arrived there in August 1808, just as Sir Arthur Wellesley – before he became the Duke of Wellington – won the Battle of Vimiero. Despite this British victory, the French were given an absurdly generous settlement under the Convention of Cintra, including the repatriation of 20,000 French troops in British ships. This caused an outcry at home, but fortunately it was arranged by the second-rate General Dalrymple and did not harm the career of Wellesley.

  After this debacle, Harry was attached to the forces of Sir John Moore as they advanced northwards. Because of his good knowledge of Spanish, Harry was much in demand, obtaining local rations and acquiring billets, in addition to reconnoitring river crossings and possible objectives. However, during November, the Spanish resistance to the French collapsed and Moore was driven from Spain in December 1808. Though he heroically evacuated all but a few thousand stragglers from his army, and saved both Cadiz and Lisbon, he was killed at Corunna on 16 January 1809. Harry was heavily involved in rearguard actions covering the retreat of demoralized and disorganized soldiers. He was appalled by the behaviour of many of them, despite the fact that they had only just thrashed the French at Corunna. Harry wrote: ‘The army embarked the following day … oh the filthy state we were all in; we lost our baggage at Calcavellos; for three week
s we had no clothes but those on our backs; we were literally covered and almost eaten up with vermin, most of us suffering from ague and dysentery, every man a living still active skeleton.’ He himself was no exception and when his Commanding Officer, Colonel Beckwith, saw him disembarking at Portsmouth, he ordered him ‘with a warmth of heat equalling the thunder of his voice’ to return home and take leave of absence. Thus, once again, Harry was nurtured and rejuvenated in the loving care of his family.

  Two months later, he rejoined the 95th and embarked for Portugal on 25 May. By now, Wellesley had landed again at Lisbon, which had never been abandoned by its British defence force. Together with Portuguese and Spanish allies, and, hopefully, favourable conditions, he planned to go on the offensive and clear the Peninsula of the French. General Craufurd was now commanding the Light Division with vigour and strong discipline. Long marches ensued – for instance, Harry quotes one of 56 miles achieved in twenty-eight hours. Modern soldiers are, rightly, proud of the weights they carry over long distances, but the Peninsula men also carried 70 to 80 lb. A knapsack might contain two shirts, two pairs of stockings, one pair of shoes, three brushes, box of blacking, razor, soap box and strap, an extra pair of trousers, a mess tin, centre tin and lid, haversack and canteen, greatcoat and blanket, a filled powder flask, a ball bag containing thirty loose balls, a small wooden mallet used to hammer the ball into the rifle muzzle; in addition, they wore a belt and pouch, the latter containing fifty rounds of ammunition and sword belt, and carried a rifle. There was also equipment to be divided up among the section of eight men, such as four billhooks weighing 6 lb each – thus every second day a man would have to carry one of these. All this was in poorly fitted packs, uncomfortable clothing not designed for the Spanish summer and boots which did not have a left and right and probably did not fit properly anyway. Tents were not issued until 1813.

  While the Light Division made its forced marches, Wellesley’s main force was advancing up the valley of the River Tagus and in July 1809 reached Talavera. Here, with a strong Spanish contingent, they faced an almost equal number of French, under King Joseph and Jourdan. The battle, from the 27th to the 29th, was one of the bloodiest of the Peninsula War, with both sides losing over 5,000 casualties, but was properly seen as a British and Spanish victory at home, where public relations were as important then as they are now. In recognition of his achievements, Wellesley was awarded a well-earned Viscountcy.

  On the battlefield, bodies quickly putrefied in the heat and produced a gagging stench. An effort was made to collect the dead and burn them but this proved so unacceptable to those carrying out the task that mass graves were dug for both sides (these were unearthed in 1990 when a bypass was built round the north of Talavera). The Light Division reached Talavera the day after the battle and was welcomed by the exhausted survivors. Relying on what they could scrounge from the countryside, Harry and his men did not live well but, again, thanks to his Spanish, he was able to barter and buy exorbitantly priced bread from the Spanish soldiers. Sickness, mainly dysentery, was rife but Harry managed, somehow, to obtain some hounds and went coursing, which added meat to the pot, but, even better, kept him fit and well through exercise and fresh air.

  Once, when out of camp, Harry’s group came across some local bandits who they initially scared off with a lot of noise, pretending to be part of a larger force, and, since they had no ball ammunition, by firing buttons pulled off their coats. The bandits, not fooled for very long, soon put Harry and the rest to flight. Characteristically, however, Harry was not going to put up with this, so he made some enquiries and, discovering that this was a band of about twenty, led by a notorious Catalan, decided to deal with them. He assembled a motley bunch of about ten soldiers and set out after the brigands. They found them in a stable attached to a small Roman Catholic chapel and, after a quick reconnaissance, Harry and his men carried out a silent attack. Catching the enemy by surprise, they captured all the bandits, including their captain, a number of horses and the leader’s fine dagger, which Harry sent home to his father as a present. As the adrenaline wore off, Harry became nervous that his little private expedition – entirely on his own initiative – would incur the wrath of General ‘Black Bob’ Craufurd. However, all was well: some of the bandits, being well-known offenders were sentenced to life on the galleys, the sale of captured horses provided forty Spanish dollars for each of his men and Harry kept the leader’s fine horse, as well as being given credit for ridding the countryside of these marauders.

  Meanwhile Wellington, aware that the French were closing in, and totally disillusioned with Spanish promises of aid, fell back into Portugal and ordered the secret construction of the celebrated Lines of Torres Vedras. Harry was far from idle and, while continuing to go coursing, was put in charge of what we would now call a close reconnaissance team, by General Craufurd. This was just up his street. He was given a sergeant and twelve troopers of the 1st German Hussars to penetrate the French defences and gather information. Never two nights in the same place, Harry’s small team had many skirmishes. One night, when observing a ford over the River Agueda, two of his Polish sentries deserted to the French. Fearing that their position was now compromised and that they were therefore very vulnerable, Harry’s sergeant roused him from his half-sleep. They immediately pulled back to the rear of a small village, remaining in the saddle for the rest of the night. When, at dawn, they saw about fifty French dragoons wending their way down to the ford on the other side of the river, Harry ordered the village headman, the alcalde, to assemble about a hundred of his villagers, armed with their bullock-driving whips and long sticks. Splitting them into two groups in the lee of the hills, with only the tops of their sticks showing so that they looked as though they were bayonets, Harry and his men rode up and down furiously, creating dust and noise to create the impression of a large force. Having tentatively sent half their men over the ford, the French then thought the better of it and rapidly withdrew. Harry instantly became the hero of the village, which he had saved from a ransacking.

  A small incident then took place that very much endeared his German Hussars to Harry. He was manning one of the vedettes, or forward observation posts, well out in front of the Division. He had been there all day without any sustenance, only being allowed to take his horse and telescope with him and, by evening, was vainly looking for the arrival of his orderly bringing him something to eat and drink. One of the Hussars noticed his anxiety and asked him what was wrong. Harry explained that it was all right for the troopers who were relieved every two hours, but he had been there since daybreak with nothing to eat or drink all day. With that the trooper dismounted and told Harry to get on his horse and keep watch, while he undid the valise behind the saddle, and took out some bacon, coffee and sugar which he promptly brewed up. He then laid out a tin cup, knife and fork on a clean towel and invited Harry to eat. Harry fell to with relish while the Hussar, having remounted, watched him with a smile. When Harry’s soldier servant, who had got lost, eventually arrived with the food and half a bottle of wine, this was immediately handed over to Harry’s benefactor whose conduct he never forgot.

  However, what was to come was very different from these minor skirmishes. In the spring of 1810, Wellington faced the very real possibility of losing Portugal to Marshal Massena, one of Napoleon’s best generals. The elite troops of Craufurd’s Light Division were heavily involved in actions which, although relatively minor, nevertheless were vital to the protection of the main Army. This was no more so than during the month’s skirmishing on the line of the River Coa. While Wellington depended on the competence of his generals, Craufurd’s impetuosity must have tried him. Having been ordered to remain as long as possible on the enemy side of a bridge over the Coa, to impose delay and then withdraw when the enemy arrived in force, Craufurd rashly positioned his men further out where they fell prey to a heavy French force. But for the distinguished leadership of Colonel Beckwith of the 95th, this could have turned into a real disaster. />
  During this incident Harry was in the rearguard, protecting the bridge crossing, and in constant contact with the enemy. Luckily the bridge was stoutly held by the 95th, but Harry and his brother, Tom, were severely wounded. With a ball in his ankle joint, severing his Achilles tendon, for Harry the war was over, temporarily at least. He managed to hitch a relatively comfortable lift to the rear in a sedan chair. Nonetheless, although clearly in much pain, he had no intention of remaining ‘walking wounded’ for long and, when he heard of the withdrawal of his Regiment to the Lines of Torres Vedras, he determined to rejoin them as soon as possible. This was not as easy as he thought and while he was allowed to leave, he was put in command of some 600 ‘sick, lame and lazy’ who were being sent up to the front as reinforcements. As soon as he could, he palmed them off onto other officers and rejoined his Colonel, Sidney Beckwith. The latter, seeing Harry was in no real state to fight, made him his ADC, which did not, however, prevent General Craufurd from detailing him, as he knew the roads so well, to take a dispatch to the Duke. However, the documents took so long to draft that the General told him not to hang around waiting for them any longer and he would send a Dragoon orderly in due course. It was just as well, as Harry heard later that the poor fellow was subsequently ambushed by the enemy.