by David Rooney
Harry decided it was imperative to reach Ludhiana and take Godby’s troops under command before he could deal with the current strength of the Sikhs. He therefore bypassed Budowal and reached Ludhiana by an indirect route, moving by night. Although subjected to sporadic attacks from the enemy, Harry’s troops reached Ludhiana utterly exhausted, with foot soldiers being carried on horses behind cavalrymen, or hanging onto their stirrup leathers. The baggage train was less fortunate as it had been attacked throughout the day – many of the sick and wounded were butchered as they lay in litters and the greater part of the baggage looted. The soldiers hoped the Sikhs would drink the medicines thinking that they were wines. The 16th Lancers lost much of their regimental silver. (Years later, a lost silver cup turned up in a pawnshop in York. It was thought that it had been picked up by a camp follower and subsequently reached England.) To his fury, Harry’s Waterloo medal was plundered and not replaced until 7 May that year (see plate section, photo 7). After a day’s rest, Harry returned to Budowal to deal with the Sikhs there, but finding the fortress abandoned, he garrisoned the town and consolidated his forces with further reinforcements sent by Gough. He then advanced north to meet Ranjodh Singh.
The Sikhs had now been reinforced, amongst others, by the Avitabile Regiment, a highly professional infantry unit trained by the Italian mercenary, General Avitabile. With this addition, Ranjodh Singh was poised to take the offensive from his fortified position between the villages of Aliwal and Bhundri, with his back to the Sutlej River. Harry formed up with the cavalry in the rear and the infantry of two brigades, Wheeler’s and Wilson’s, in the front line, supported by two further brigades, Godby’s and Hicks’s, in the second, and continued his advance. At a range of 600 yards the Sikh artillery opened a devastating fire all along the line. Harry directed Godby and Hicks to move out from the second line, storm Aliwal on the right and then attack the Sikh defences in enfilade. These two brigades successfully took Aliwal and turned towards the Sikh centre, whereupon Ranjodh Singh brought up a body of cavalry to restore his collapsing flank.
At this point, Harry’s cavalry brigade launched a series of charges against the Sikh horsemen, driving them back from Aliwal and leaving Godby free to advance beyond the Sikh line towards their camp on the bank of the Sutlej. Here the fords gave Ranjodh Singh’s army the only escape route across the river. Under the pressure of this attack the Sikh line swung back along the river bank, turning on the village of Bhundri. When a force of Sikh cavalry emerged into the plain beyond Bhundri to threaten the British and Bengali flank, a squadron of the 16th Lancers and the 3rd Bengal Light Cavalry were ordered to drive this force back. The Lancers charged the Sikh horsemen with great energy and pursued them to the bank of the Sutlej. Returning from their charge, the squadron encountered the Avatabile Regiment of infantry, which formed up to receive a cavalry attack in a triangle, rather than a square; they adopted this formation so that if their line was penetrated, they could turn inward and bring fire to bear even amongst their own troops. Again the squadron charged home, in spite of receiving a devastating volley, and broke up the Sikh infantry. Two horse artillery guns, acting in support of the Lancers, unlimbered and opened fire on the remains of the Sikh regiment, completing the destruction. Eventually, the whole Regiment of the 16th Lancers delivered a last devastating charge, capturing the village of Bhundri and driving the garrison to the riverbank, thus concluding a great victory. On the anniversary of the Battle of Aliwal, the Queen’s Royal Lancers, the descendants of the 16th Lancers, crimp the pennons on their lances in crimson to commemorate the dried blood sticking to them after the battle. The 53rd of Foot (later the King’s Shropshire Light Infantry) followed up behind the cavalry and cleared Bhundri of the remaining determined pockets of Sikhs.
While the cavalry were engaged on the flanks, the British and Bengali infantry regiments, supported by artillery, pressed on over the Sikh defences, forcing them back to the Sutlej. As the Sikhs waded through the fords to escape across the river, a battery of Sikh gunners unhitched their guns and brought them into action on the river bank to cover the retreat, but they fired only one salvo before being overrun by the pursuing British troops. Ranjodh Singh attempted to bring some of his guns back across the river, but only two reached the far bank, two more being abandoned in the water and a further two sank irretrievably in quicksand.
The gunfire could be heard at Sobraon, some 50 miles away, and Gough realized that it signified Harry’s triumph. The success at Aliwal was important for a number of reasons. Few battles are ever fought without mistakes being made, but this was one of them. Not only did it make Harry’s reputation as a general in the eyes of the troops he led, but it gave those troops an overwhelming degree of self-confidence. They had faced the best the Sikhs could produce and had beaten them. The Bengali soldiers in particular, who were rightly terrified of the Sikhs, now knew that the latter were not the Gods of War they professed to be. Cooperation and coordination between the cavalry, artillery and infantry worked effectively, unlike previous engagements which had been so heavily criticized by Harry. India now knew that the danger of invasion by the warlike and bloodthirsty Sikhs had been swept away, people restored their loyalty to the Crown and those in the cantonments could breathe again. In England, the news of the great victory at Aliwal caused widespread rejoicing, and accolades were heaped on Harry and his men. Awards for gallantry had not, of course, been created by then, although officers were presented with medals for distinguished service – the gold medals in the Peninsula for example. The Peninsula medal, for all ranks, was not awarded until 1847 (see plate section, photo 8). However, recognition for valuable service could be given by promotion to brevet rank and inclusion in orders of chivalry, notably the Order of the Bath, of which Harry was a Companion, a Knight and a holder of the Knight Grand Cross! After Aliwal, fourteen officers were made Companions of the Bath and thirty-two were promoted to brevet rank (see plate section, photo 12). Rank and file had to be content with their ‘General Service’ medals. Pubs were called the ‘Hero of Aliwal’, and one exists today in Whittlesey, although it is a rather pale successor to its original (see plate section, photo 24). Harry marched his triumphant troops back to rejoin Gough’s main army on 7 February, where they were received with great celebration. Harry wrote a dispatch, in his own, barely decipherable, handwriting, which exists today (see plate section, photo 11). But there was one battle still to fight: Sobraon.
The Sikh position at Sobraon consisted of a well-fortified, crescent-shaped bridgehead on the south side of the Sutlej, covered by guns on the higher north bank of the river. A reserve of mainly cavalry also remained on the far side. Gough was determined to close with the enemy in his usual robust way before the rainy and disease-laden season arrived. The Commander-in-Chief gave out his orders to his divisional commanders on 9 February for a full-blown, frontal, daylight attack, to be preceded by a heavy bombardment. Gough rejected Hardinge’s suggestion of a diversionary force crossing the river further up, by night, to attack the Sikhs in the rear flank, for fear this would significantly weaken his forces. Harry had severe misgivings about Gough’s plan. In his view, it completely failed to concentrate a maximum amount of force at a given point of weakness in the enemy’s defence. Instead, the whole army was evenly spread out. Nevertheless, he did what he was told and deployed his now depleted Division onto the right flank.
Gough decided to initiate the attack on the south-east of the Sikhs’ position with General Dick’s Division, while Gilbert’s Division and Harry’s kept the enemy occupied. Troops set off at 3.00am to be in position by first light and take advantage of the preliminary barrage. A thick mist, which did not evaporate until 6.00am prevented any action until then, at which point the guns opened up. There was then a disaster. The heavy batteries, short of gunners, had to borrow soldiers from the field batteries, many of whom had no experience of operating the larger guns. Due to the recent arrival of the siege train and the lack of time for preparation, insufficient ammun
ition had been brought up to the gun positions, which were too far back. By about 8.30am the gun ammunition had run out, with little damage inflicted on the Sikh positions, so it was not until about 9.00am, that Dick’s Division started their assault. The Sikhs held them well and Gough directed Gilbert and Harry to put in feint attacks to relieve the pressure on Dick, but to little effect. So much so that Gough then had no alternative but to order full-scale assaults. Harry’s division engaged in fierce and bloody hand-to-hand fighting which reminded him of Badajoz and Waterloo. For the whole Division, the outcome was in the balance during prolonged fierce fighting. Even his usual optimism was dented, but eventually his own and the other two divisions advanced steadily, pushing the Sikhs back to the river. During the night heavy rain had swollen the river level by 7 feet, all the fords were submerged and all the pontoon bridges were swept away. Many of the enemy drowned and others were killed by Gough’s, now effective, gunnery. The Sikhs lost about 9,000 men and all sixty-seven of their guns; the British lost 2,280 men including General Dick, who had lost an arm in the Peninsula, and two brigade commanders. Harry lost a higher percentage of his Division than at Aliwal, and nearly all his staff had been wounded, some more than once. Many had horses shot under them. Harry himself, with his charmed life as ever, was unscathed, but his ADC, Edward Hildich, was badly wounded in the arm and shoulder. He was evacuated to Ferozepore, which prevented Harry from going to visit him.
Soldiers helped themselves to a considerable amount of booty from the Sikh camp and, indeed, Harry received a large slice of prize money, enabling him to pay off debts and briefly reinstate his finances. Ever thoughtful of the worry he continued to cause Juana, who was recovering from a tropical fever in Simla, Harry now had time to write her a loving letter, full of all their secret code words. Harry himself remained immensely popular with his soldiers – he talked their language, swore like they did and instinctively knew what worried or upset them. He led from the front and, while tough on them, he was equally tough on himself. He looked after them as well as conditions allowed and reduced risk as far as possible. Particular favourites of his were the 50th of Foot, who were known as the ‘Dirty Half Hundred’, which of course they loved. Sobraon ended the war – for the moment – against the Sikhs. The Khalsa, the tough and highly disciplined army, and a major factor in the Sikh ruling dynasty, was effectively destroyed and the rulers in Lahore eagerly negotiated a peace.
Harry and Juana were soon reunited in Simla and happily read together the numerous letters of congratulation that flooded in, including one from Harry’s beloved Duke. Harry, characteristically, brushed aside the loss of baggage at Budowal and the perception that he had failed to attack the Sikhs there. He turned it to his advantage, saying that, had he done so, Ranjodh Singh would have been less bold and less likely, therefore, to have faced Harry at Aliwal. A baronetcy was conferred on Harry and, unusually, ‘of Aliwal’ was to go after his name. ‘Supporters’ for his coat of arms would be a rifleman from the Rifle Brigade and another from the 52nd of Foot (later the Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry – indeed, even later, with the Rifle Brigade, 60th and 43rd, to become the famous Greenjackets). Sadly the baronetcy, unlike the viscountcies and baronies to Hardinge and Gough, carried no pension. Nevertheless, Harry had been raised to Knight Grand Cross of the Order of the Bath (GCB) and promoted substantive Major General. The latter, however, meant he was now appointed District Commander in Cawnpore. This was not an enviable posting, situated as it was in land that was either excruciatingly hot or pouring with rain. Juana, against Harry’s protests, as ever, determined to join him, even though it meant a 500-mile journey. Harry’s health by now, after non-stop action, was deteriorating and he needed Juana’s love and companionship. Additionally, they both longed for home and, with some clever arrangements by the Headquarters staff, they left India on sick leave, arriving in England on 29 April 1847 after an absence of eighteen years.
Harry and Juana had enjoyed the well-earned praise they had received in India after the Battle of Aliwal, but this was nothing to their enthusiastic welcome when their ship docked at Southampton. The General Officer Commanding the area made the formal welcome in front of cheering crowds – to be followed by the civic leaders of Southampton. Harry replied to the address of welcome at the civic banquet by saying that if he had rendered good service to his country it was to the fine soldiers he commanded that he was indebted. He is rarely mentioned in history books, but for the summer of 1847 he was the national hero, and with Juana by his side they were feted wherever they went.
They had returned from Bombay in a steamer, and to their surprise and delight – in contrast to Harry’s frantic rides with coach and horses from Portsmouth years before – they travelled up to London in their own private train, pulled by a steam engine. When they arrived in London, they were inundated with invitations, notable among them from Queen Victoria, the Duke of Wellington, the Lord Mayor of London and Sir Robert Peel. One of their first engagements was to dine with the young Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. She recorded that Harry ‘was a fine old man’ who seemed pleased at her praises, said that he would always serve her and hoped that all her subjects would do so too. On 20 May, with Juana by his side, he received the Freedom of the City of London at the Guildhall. He replied, again paying tribute to the British soldier, and concluded that ‘as long as England is true to herself and loyal to her sovereign she will stand as the paramount power in the world.’ Perhaps even more moving for them was a dinner the same evening when they were guests of honour for the veterans of the Light Division, including John Colborne (Lord Seaton) whom Juana warmly embraced, Sir John Bell, Sir Andrew Barnard, Johnny Kincaid – still passionate about Juana – and Harry’s brother Tom. The Times recorded this famous occasion in great detail, saying a hundred famous soldiers dined in London, and no capital could reproduce so memorable a reunion. On all sides, Sir Harry Smith received the congratulations of his countrymen, and for once the metropolitan season ‘is supplied with a reasonable object of admiration’. It noted that Harry’s coat of arms for his baronetcy was based on the achievements of his youth – Ciudad Rodrigo, the Pyrenees and the Rifles, and concluded that the previous rendezvous for this fine group of veterans of the Light Division would have been at Vitoria or the walls of Toulouse.
Harry’s frenetic energy throughout his life ensured that the image of him is of a young man. An interesting comment, therefore, came from Lord Malmesbury who dined with Harry, now sixty, and Juana, aged forty-nine, on another May evening. He wrote: ‘General Sir Harry Smith was the great lion of the evening. He is a little old man, very clever looking. She is a Spanish woman who has been very handsome.’
On 30 June 1847, Harry and Juana, as befitted the nation’s celebrities, left London on another special steam train bound for Whittlesey, which stopped first at Ely. Their welcome there was described by Professor Sedgwick, the Master of Trinity, who had known Harry as a boy: ‘The entry into Ely was triumphant. Thousands were assembled, with flags, branches of laurel and joyful anxious faces.’ The Dean of Ely lent Sedgwick a horse so that he could join the triumphal procession led by a mounted trumpeter, together with the Chief Constable, the band with drums and fifes of the Scots Fusilier Guards, then Harry mounted on his favourite horse, Aliwal, and Juana riding in a coach. The Dean, the Reverend Peacock, presided at a magnificent lunch. He spoke of Harry as a valiant leader in the field, and as someone ‘who was able to conciliate a foe and turn the enemies of the British Empire into its friends’.
After the celebrations in Ely, Harry and Juana and many other notables travelled the 20 miles to Whittlesey, where they faced another enthusiastic welcome. Professor Sedgwick again described the occasion. ‘The procession moved through the town, with a guard of honour of the Whittlesey Yeomanry, commanded by Harry’s brother, Captain Charles Smith, who had also fought at Waterloo.’ Sedgwick noted that when they passed the old family home, Harry was deeply affected and ‘the tears rolled down his weather beat
en but fine face’. He and Juana attended a ball that evening and the next day were honoured by a formal dinner. Lord Hardwicke proposed the toast to Lady Smith and Harry replied, using the occasion to confirm his continuing love for Juana. He said he would have been less than a man if he had not sought the hand of the helpless but heroic girl at the siege of Badajoz. She had followed him, often in sanguinary circumstances, to every quarter of the globe with a devotion he found difficult to describe. She had watched him on the field of battle and had tended him in moments of pain and suffering. On the rare occasions when they were parted, he always felt her presence as his guardian angel. Finally, he thanked them again for their tributes to Juana and he knew she deserved them all. They stayed for a few days in Whittlesey with his brother Charles, Harry responding emotionally to the tributes of ‘his playmates, schoolmates and townsmen’. Then, with Juana, he travelled to other fenland towns and villages, including Wisbech, where he opened a museum.
Their reception in Ely and Whittlesey had been moving occasions, but the climax was still to come. In early July, Harry was again the celebrity guest at a major function in Cambridge. He was due to receive an honorary degree from Cambridge University, but Sedgwick, knowing that Queen Victoria, Prince Albert and the Duke of Wellington would be present, invited Harry to come early and stay in Trinity College, where he was Master. On Monday, 5 July, Harry received his degree, and there was a luncheon for sixty people, including the Queen and Prince Albert. Later Sedgwick hosted a dinner in Trinity for 300, ‘and we had more numbers and more fun’. There were cheers for the Duke when he left the Senate House, but he calmed the cheering and, putting his arm around Harry’s shoulder, called, ‘This is the man you should cheer, he is the hero of the day.’ Harry burst into tears and said, ‘I little thought I should live to hear such kind words from my old chief.’ Harry’s admiration for the Duke is well known, but this incident illustrates the Duke’s affection for Harry. Sedgwick added, ‘Indeed, he is more like the Duke’s son.’