by David Rooney
During the long and gruesome retreat from Madrid, the army lost several thousand to sickness and disease, but as they approached Ciudad Rodrigo their morale improved. They felt at home there and faced the agreeable prospect of living in proper winter quarters. The Smiths had a pleasant little house and Juana, ‘full of animation and happiness’, made it a warm and hospitable home, helped by the padre who proved to be an excellent cook. Harry went coursing, shooting or hunting nearly every afternoon, and usually returned with hares, duck or wild pig to augment the rations. Wellington himself, who ran a pack of foxhounds, often joined in the hunting and clearly enjoyed the company of his enthusiastic young officers.
Harry and Juana, able to converse easily with the local people, were drawn into many colourful social activities, including a local rustic wedding in which, traditionally, the guests gave valuable presents to the bride during a ritual dance. Juana learnt the dance and presented the bride with a doubloon, to the surprise and delight of the family. Harry spent many happy days hunting in the great cork, oak and chestnut forests. It is easy to forget how dependent officers were on their horses in those days because of course no other reasonable method of swift transport existed. Harry had started this particular part of the campaign with five ‘capital horses’, which one would have thought were enough, but only two of them turned out to be fit. Tiny, Juana’s good little Arab horse, had received a serious injury from a collapsing bullock-manger (an immensely heavy timber construction), when the sharp-pointed end fell on his off fore-hoof. He became so lame he could hardly walk and was a significant loss to Juana. General Vandeleur now and then provided a horse for Harry, or he would have been in real trouble. Trying to help out, James Stewart, an old friend of Harry, lent him a very sound English hunter. However, he picked up a nail in his hind foot and was not fit to ride for months. Such problems with horses were quite common but Harry had to admit that, in winter quarters, his fit horses, because they were so few, had no real rest.
Once again, he and Juana enjoyed their contacts with the local people and often took part in rural village customs. They shared one traditional activity when the locals drove their pigs out into the forest and then flogged the trees to provide them with a special diet of nuts and acorns. When the pigs were killed, celebrations and feasts continued for days, during which the meat was cured, and enough sausages and black puddings were made to last for months. A particular local delicacy, usually eaten at breakfast, was pork boiled with salt, red peppers and garlic.
Caesar’s Gallic War described hibernia when the legions went into winter quarters, and this tradition certainly continued into the Peninsula campaign. For officers, the winter meant a whirl of social activities and many days of hunting and coursing. Kincaid described how in winter quarters his unit took over a church for amateur theatricals, and he managed to make a comfortable bed from gorgeous clerical robes and trappings. Consequently, he was regularly cursed by the Bishop of Rodrigo. As usual the troops made the best of everything and kept up that well-known soldierly tradition that only a fool can be uncomfortable.
Harry’s exuberant personality colours his writing and he often gives the impression that the divisions were one big happy family – but there is a darker side. The Letters of Private Wheeler, who served in the 51st (later the King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry) in the campaign around Badajoz and Ciudad Rodrigo, paint a very different picture. Wheeler described the petty tyranny of autocratic and drunken colonels, who would set up drumhead courts martial for trivial offences and sentence men to 300 or even 500 lashes.
The army used the winter lull to overcome the ravages of the year’s campaign. The rudimentary medical provision actively helped the many wounded and sick. During the long campaign of 1812 from Ciudad Rodrigo to Madrid and back, uniforms were reduced to tatters and boots were quickly worn out. Lacking later refinements, there were not left- or right-foot boots, but just boots which would fit either foot – useful when a man lost a leg. During the winter, reinforcements arrived to replace the many casualties, long-awaited uniforms appeared and back pay was made up. Among the reinforcements were some units of the Household Cavalry in splendid uniforms. The Light Bobs, as the Light Division were nicknamed, teased the newcomers, and proudly wore their ragged, worn-out kit – an attitude cheerfully echoed later in the 1940s Desert Campaign, when new arrivals were told to get their knees brown. Harry, always a spendthrift, received his back pay, but it barely covered his debts. His family was not wealthy, but occasionally his father, the surgeon from Whittlesey, would help him out.
In the spring of 1813, the armies waited expectantly for a new campaign to start, but presumably for security reasons little warning was ever given. On 21 May, the Light Division, after several months in winter quarters, received orders at midnight to leave at dawn the next day. The route to Palencia and thence to Vitoria, over 200 miles, took them over the same country they had trudged through in the grim retreat of the previous autumn, but the prospect of action created an atmosphere of joy and anticipation. Such was the pride and spirit in the Light Division that they were angry when another division was chosen to lead an assault, and units were overwhelmed with volunteers for the Forlorn Hope, many of whom expected to be killed, or in Kincaid’s vivid phrase ‘given a passport to eternity’.
The Division moved off in delightful weather and with plentiful supplies – ‘the mainspring of happiness in a soldier’s life’ – and with the total confidence in Wellington’s leadership. The French had destroyed a bridge over the Douro, a magnificent and fast-flowing river, but the veteran Light Division rapidly overcame such an obstacle – they considered it just a matter of fun and excitement. Juana’s horse, Tiny, was still lame and she had to ride another horse which Harry had bought for £140 (a huge sum in those days). During the march the horse slipped and fell on Juana, breaking a bone in her foot. Horrified at the prospect of being separated from her Enrique, she demanded a mule and a Spanish lady’s saddle. Officers combed the town for a suitable mule and for a well-cushioned saddle, and the problem was quickly resolved. The march continued and on 7 June 1813, from early morning until past six in the evening the whole army passed though Palencia – cavalry, artillery, infantry and baggage in a never-ending stream. At the end of the day’s march, many eager hands helped Juana descend from her quaint saddle.
As the Allies advanced, they once again approached Burgos where the Light Division, eager to fight the French in open country, hated the thought of a siege there, with the grim reminder from Badajoz of the number of their comrades killed on the bastions, embrasures, curtain walls and other defences – ‘and we wished Burgos to the devil’. Then, to their delight, there were several terrific explosions, and they realized that the French ‘had blown Burgos to where we wished it’, and then retreated.
To Harry’s relief Juana’s foot soon got better. His main concern at the prospect of leaving her behind was that the local people would punish her for being married to a heretic. Many other soldiers observed that they were welcomed by the locals when they drove out the French, but were still regarded as heretics.
As the Division approached Vitoria, on 18 June 1813, Harry looked back on a wonderful march, with the whole army in great fighting order, ‘with every man in better wind than a trained pugilist’. At the Battle of Vitoria, Wellington commanded about 70,000 men, including substantial numbers of Portuguese and Spanish regulars. The battle took place just west of the town and at midday a local peasant, trained by the remarkably effective Spanish guerrillas, informed Wellington that a key bridge over the River Zadorra was unguarded. Once again at the centre of action, he immediately gave orders for a brigade of the Light Division under Kempt – who had been wounded at Badajoz – to advance swiftly over the bridge. This action played a key role in the defeat of the French. In the middle of the battle Harry, renowned for his confidence and initiative, had been sent to Dalhousie, the notoriously hesitant commander of the 7th Division. When he rushed up to the General, asking for ord
ers for the brigade of the Light Division which was temporarily under his command, Harry heard him say, ‘Take the village.’ Knowing Dalhousie’s timidity, Harry deliberately misunderstood the order, galloped off, ignoring cries to come back, and passed the order to attack. Instantly, swarms of riflemen, keeping up a rate of fire none could resist, rushed at the village, drove out the French and captured twelve guns. Afterwards, Harry recorded the great pride he felt for his riflemen: ‘beautiful shots and undaunted as bulldogs’. Their loyalty and skill in supporting each other had defeated the French.
The brief and critical action of the Light Division – assisted by Harry’s deliberate misunderstanding – broke the initial French defences, and then the tough and aggressive Picton, leading the 3rd Division, drove through the gap ahead of the dilatory Dalhousie. While heavy fighting continued in the centre, Portuguese and Spanish units fought fiercely on the left flank, drove in the French defences and cut the road to Pamplona.
Wellington’s decisive victory at Vitoria ended any major organized resistance by the French under King Joseph and Marshal Jourdan, although some very stiff fights still remained at Pamplona and San Sebastian. The victory also brought a fabulous amount of booty, looted by the French after six years of occupation. Jourdan even lost his marshal’s baton, which Wellington sent off to the Prince Regent – who returned the compliment and promoted Wellington to Field Marshal. The French soldiers fled from the field of Vitoria, but in addition there were large numbers of French civilians, mostly in carriages loaded with loot, who abandoned everything and fled for their lives. After Vitoria, the temptations of massive booty led to a serious breakdown in discipline. The troops looted crates and crates of wine and brandy, Renaissance pictures, jewellery, gold regalia and fine clothes from King Joseph’s entourage. The 14th Light Dragoons (later the King’s Royal Hussars) captured his solid silver chamber pot, a valuable artefact that is still treasured in the Regiment and is filled with champagne for toasts on dinner nights in the Officers’ Mess. Nearly all the troops were weighed down with legs of mutton and sausages, and many were too drunk to march – even Wellington, who was fuming with anger, could not get them to move off. His dispatch to Earl Bathurst in Whitehall grimly admitted that the troops had pocketed a million pounds sterling. By sheer chance, the whole of the French army’s pay had arrived in Vitoria just before the battle, only a fraction of which subsequently reached Wellington’s war chest!
During the Vitoria battle, Harry was getting on his horse to observe the action from a gun battery when the horse collapsed and lay as if dead. He managed to jump off and quickly looked for the wound. Finding none he gave the horse a sharp kick in the nose and to his surprise it jumped up unharmed. The gunners assured him its collapse was caused by the explosion from the cannon fire. In the meantime, rumours that Harry had been killed spread quickly and reached Juana, who was distraught. When he galloped up and assured her he was neither wounded nor dead, she collapsed in an ecstasy of joy.
That evening they found shelter in a large barn and in the morning, as they were getting ready to move off, Juana thought she heard some moaning from the hayloft above the barn. Harry climbed up and found that there were about twenty French officers, all severely wounded, and one, tended by a woman, close to death. All over Spain, French reprisals on the Spanish population had been brutal and savage, and the officers clearly expected to have their throats cut. To their surprise Harry’s Headquarters gave them what help they could and even provided some water and breakfast. The woman, who was Spanish, had a little thoroughbred pug dog and she begged Juana to accept it in return for their kindness. At first Harry was aghast at the idea, but Juana convinced him. They called it Vitoria, or Vitty, and for several years – even up to Waterloo – it became a favourite of the Division as ‘the most sensible little brute nature ever produced’.
The kindness Harry and Juana showed to the French officers was in stark contrast to the devastation the army encountered as it pursued the enemy. They found villages in flames, and corpses of men, women and children strewn about unburied. Harry said that the seat of war was hell upon earth, even when stripped of the atrocities committed by the French. He added that if the people at home had seen a twentieth part of the horrors that he had, they would grumble less at the war taxes ‘and the pinching saddle of the national debt’.
One evening during the advance, a stout Frenchman approached Harry’s position, saying he wanted to see the Duke. He was immediately taken to General Vandeleur. Although a thoroughly unpleasant and distasteful man, courtesy dictated that he dine with them. They initially thought he was a spy; he later told General Vandeleur that he was indeed and, moreover, was in the service of the Duke. He could not leave that night, as they did not know, specifically, where the Duke’s Headquarters was, and the night was pitch black anyway; so the Frenchman, whom Harry clearly despised, was given to him to look after. They subsequently heard it was in fact true and the man was of great use to the Duke, having been in King Joseph’s household.
The next day Harry’s Light Division bypassed Pamplona and was cantoned in the village of Offala. However, it was necessary to establish observation posts to cover Pamplona, and General Vandeleur and Harry rode out to reconnoitre suitable positions. They had a very athletic and active guide with them who was overtalkative and full of the battle of Vitoria. When he asked the General’s name, Harry told him, then heard him muttering the name over to himself several times before running up to the General and entering into conversation. The General quickly called Harry over to him, for he could not speak a word of Spanish. ‘What’s the fellow say?’ ‘He is telling all he heard from the Frenchmen who were billeted in his house in the retreat. He is full of anecdote.’ The Spaniard then looked Vandeleur full in the face and said, ‘Yes, they say the English fought well, but had it not been for one General Bandelo, the French would have gained the day.’ ‘How the devil did this fellow know?’ said Vandeleur, secretly rather pleased. Harry did not tell the General anything different, so he happily thought his Brigade being sent to assist the 7th Division was the cause of the Frenchmen’s remark. The guide, just like a ‘cute Irishman or American’, gave Harry a knowing wink.
There was a more sinister follow-up to this incident. Harry and Juana were billeted in this man’s house. Before dinner he invited Harry to go down and see his cellar of fine wine. He guided Harry down narrow stone steps, opened a door, and with a maniacal cry pointed to four bodies lying on the floor, grunting, ‘There lie four of the devils who thought to subjugate Spain.’ Harry realized he was alone in a dark, narrow cellar with a homicidal maniac, and his instinct of self-preservation prompted him to admire the deed. He added, ‘My blood was frozen, to see the noble science of war and the honour and chivalry of arms reduced to the practices of midnight assassins.’ Continuing to humour the man, Harry asked how he had overpowered four strong-looking soldiers. The maniac laughed and explained that he had invited them down to the cellar, plied them with wine until they collapsed in a drunken stupor, then killed them with his stiletto, which he was again holding in his hand. When Harry returned from the cellar, Juana thought he looked a bit pale, but he did not explain.
In contrast to the horrors of that night, the next day, a Sunday, they reached a beautiful small town after a short march, and in the afternoon, affected by the peace and serenity of the place, Harry reminisced about the Sundays of his youth in Whittlesey: ‘The very pew in church, the old peasants in the aisle; the friendly neighbours’ happy faces … in short, the joys of home, for amidst the eventful scenes of such a life, recollection will bring the past in view and compare the blessings of peace with the cruel horror of war!’ Juana noticed his pensiveness, but he felt he could not mention home because of the trauma she had suffered in her home in Badajoz.
The army quickly adapted from the horrors of battle to the relative calm of a victorious advance. The irrepressible Johnny Kincaid, who fell in love with remarkable frequency but remained a bachelor all his life, de
scribed the social life when their units occupied a pleasant town, in his book Adventures in the Rifle Brigade. For their ‘usual evening dances’ officers collected as many women as possible, ‘whether countesses or sextonesses’, and entertained them generously with food and drink. On one such occasion, in a masked ball, Juana thought that Harry was flirting with a Spanish woman, so she went over and boxed his ears. They both had fiery tempers and Harry, enraged, called Juana a fiery little varmint. This led to a monumental row, but like all their rows, ended up with tears, kisses and passionate embraces.
Soldiers in every age know how dramatically the change of a commander can affect their lives. In the campaign up to Vitoria, General Vandeleur had commanded the Brigade of the Light Division. He was liked and respected as a sound military leader, who was careful with the lives of his men. Both officers and men were sorry when he was posted off to command a cavalry brigade. Harry and Juana were particularly upset because they enjoyed a delightful and relaxed relationship with him, and they frequently shared his accommodation and ate together. Harry was thunderstruck when General Skerrett, who succeeded Vandeleur, made it clear that Harry was only to go to the General’s quarters when asked. As the Division advanced towards the Pyrenees, Harry and his colleagues became more and more concerned because Skerrett, whom Harry considered ‘a bilious fellow’, appeared ignorant of the true role both of the Greenjackets and of the Light Division. At the same time as the unfortunate change, Napoleon recalled Marshal Soult to command the remaining French forces in northern Spain, and where necessary to overrule the weak and vacillating King Joseph, Napoleon’s brother. Soult, known to the British as ‘Old Salt’, the ablest French commander in Spain, quickly restored morale in his forces as they withdrew and fought many effective defensive actions in the foothills of the Pyrenees.