Salamanca, 1812

by Rory Muir

  Similar criticisms can be made of most descriptions in secondary accounts of the fighting between Clinton's and Bonnet's infantry. As we have seen in the narrative, the first-hand accounts of this episode are meagre and confusing. According to Oman, however, Clinton's men ‘fell upon, overlapped at both ends, and thoroughly discomfited in close musketry duel the nine battalions of Bonnet's division’. Fortescue follows Oman in substance, but adds his own rhetorical touches: ‘now the Sixth Division came striding over the plain to recover the ground that had been first won and then lost by Cole … the redcoats engaged the nine battalions of Bonnet in a bitter contest of musketry. As usual the British fire prevailed; and presently Bonnet's troops ran back discomfited to the hill in their rear.’35 Evidently, this is too tame and vague for Young and Lawford, who have their own ideas of what happened:

  As the British division drew near a ferocious combat developed. The French returned volley for volley; but their position was fast becoming untenable. … When the range had dwindled to little more than ten yards, the French wavered; their leading line began to disintegrate; the 6th Division went in with the bayonet and the French ranks broke up. As they went back through a vortex of fire, the 6th Division pressing mercilessly on their heels, all order was lost.36

  None of these accounts cites a source for its claims, but in the end they rest on just two facts: Clinton's division was responsible for Bonnet's defeat, and Bonnet's three regiments lost heavily. The rest is pure speculation. Some of this is highly plausible – there probably was some close musketry, for both sides seem to have lost heavily – but note the way the rhetoric escalates from Oman's ‘close musketry duel’, to Fortescue's ‘bitter contest of musketry’, to Young and Lawford's ‘returned volley for volley … the range had dwindled to little more than ten yards’.

  Perhaps we should not be too critical, for the authors are simply trying to maintain the flow of their narrative by papering over a gap in the evidence – something every historian has to do quite often. It would not have been appropriate for Oman or Fortescue to interrupt their works, which embrace a much larger subject than this single battle, with a lengthy digression every time the sources were less than perfectly full and explicit. Equally, Young and Lawford were writing for a popular audience. But even if this ‘making bricks without straw’ is understandable, it still has unfortunate consequences, especially if it is done carelessly. Young and Lawford write of the troops returning volley for volley at little more than ten yards, not because any source says it about this encounter, but because they believe that this was what often happened. But in fact very few first-hand accounts ever write of combat in these terms; rather, the idea gets copied from one secondary source to another, developing credibility simply through repetition. This in turn leads to further absurdities, such as overly bold calculations that X number of infantry fired Y number of shots, in this number of minutes at such-and-such a range, and inflicted that number of casualties, which means … absolutely nothing, for every step in such calculations is built on sand, because the sources are not that precise or reliable, even if, for once, two accounts agree on what happened.

  In fact, the accounts which we do have of the experiences of Hulse's brigade mention the normal British tactics of cheer, fire and charge, rather than a sustained exchange of musketry, while suggesting that the brigade's heavy losses were largely owing to periods of inactivity under heavy skirmisher and artillery fire.37 However, this may not be true of the rest of the division, and many questions remain unanswered about this part of the battle. The 61st Regiment source quoted in the narrative states quite clearly that the regiment – which apart from the 2/53rd was at the eastern end of the divisional line – passed through the village of Arapiles in its advance.38 This is extremely odd: it has always been believed that Clinton's division formed a second line behind Cole, occupying the space between the Lesser Arapile and the village, so that only the most westerly regiment should have passed among the houses. If the Sixth Division formed so far west, it was as much behind the Fifth as the Fourth Division, suggesting that the Seventh Division was even further west, while there would be many other implications for the deployment of the allied army. It also suggests that the fighting between Bonnet and Clinton may have been on a front running almost due north-west, with the French advance directed more towards the village than to the gap in the allied line. French claims to have advanced to the edge of the village at this time give this idea some credibility, although it is also possible that they are a muddled reference to Maucune's earlier attack.39 In the end, the evidence is simply too fragmentary and uncertain to reconstruct precisely what happened.

  Understanding the role of Clinton's other brigades in the fighting is also hampered by inadequate sources. Most accounts state that the two British brigades formed the front line of the division, with Rezende's brigade making the second; but it is possible that the Portuguese moved into the middle of the line and helped in the defeat of Bonnet, while Hinde's brigade may have been employed to watch Clausel and protect the flank and rear of the division. This is almost entirely speculation, but there is some slight support for it in Philip Bainbrigge's brief account: ‘I galloped to the 6th Division and met them coming up in columns, they, that is two brigades, the left British (General Hulse's) and the Portuguese soon passed the 4th Division, deployed into line, and opened a tremendous fire on the enemy, who, having contented themselves with checking the 4th Division, began to retreat.’40

  If the brunt of the fighting against Bonnet was borne by Hulse and Rezende, it would explain why the sources in Hinde's brigade – notably Captain Harry Ross-Lewin of the 32nd – do not make more of this part of the battle. It is notoriously dangerous to argue on the basis of what sources do not say, but Ross-Lewin's account does not suggest that his regiment was heavily engaged at this point:

  By this time the loss sustained by the enemy was considerable. One of their colonels lay immediately in front of the colours of my regiment; he was badly wounded, and begged hard to be removed from the field; and our commanding officer humanely directed the drummers to take care of him. I saw him afterwards perfectly recovered at Salamanca.

  Close to the wounded colonel one of his own men was seated with his leg broken; he had a large calabash of wine slung by his side, and as soon as some of our men caught a glimpse of it they determined to make free with its contents; but he understood what they said, and instantly raising the calabash to his head, endeavoured to empty it with all possible expedition. Two soldiers ran forward to stop him, but he sturdily resisted their efforts; and when they at length succeeded in wresting the calabash from him, they found to their disappointment that he had transferred all that made it valuable to his own interior.41

  Of Bonnet's regiments, the 118th and 119th both had colonels wounded, while the 122nd had a chef de bataillon who might easily have been taken for a ‘colonel’.

  Meanwhile Lieutenant Smith of the 11th makes a familiar claim:

  The advance of the brigade was so rapid, that very many of a body of riflemen, more numerous than the British, covering the retreat of the main body of the defeated enemy, had not time to get out of our way, threw themselves on the ground as dead, and were run over. It was known that many of them fired at the back of the advancing line. One, it is certain, drove his bayonet through the back of a grenadier of the Eleventh, and before he could withdraw it, he was cut down by Brigade-Major Cotton who was following the regiment on foot, his horse having been killed, and in that position both lay dead.42

  Whatever the truth of these individual tales, they are a useful reminder that a battlefield is much less neat and orderly than a simple narrative would suggest.

  Chapter Eight

  Pack's Attack on the Greater Arapile

  Cole's initial defeat was not the only setback suffered by the allies in the centre: Pack's independent Portuguese brigade had made a bold attack on the Greater Arapile and had been repulsed with heavy losses. Fortunately, we have an excellen
t account of this operation in a lively personal narrative by Captain Charles Synge, Pack's aide-de-camp, which also sheds much light on the experience of the battle.

  Pack's brigade consisted of the 1st and 16th Portuguese line regiments (two battalions each) and the 4th Caçador battalion: 2,607 officers and men on 15 July. It was the second strongest Portuguese brigade in the army, after Rezende's brigade in the Sixth Division. However, it also had much the lowest proportion of officers: only one officer to every twenty-nine men, compared to one to twenty or better in most of the other brigades. The composition and command of the brigade had been unchanged since August 1810, and two years' active service had presumably given its commander a sense of its abilities, and the troops some esprit de corps. Pack himself had seen much service and, according to Colville, ‘has the character of a more than ordinarily zealous and alert officer’. Some complained about his ‘fidgety and irascible temper’, but Charles Synge writes of him with real affection.1 His brigade had performed well at Busaco, repulsing the attack of Maucune's brigade of Marchand's division, and had been in the vanguard of the allied army in the pursuit of Masséna in the spring of 1811. It was entrusted with the blockade of Almeida, but had been relieved of this duty before Brennier made his escape. It played a creditable part in the storming of Ciudad Rodrigo, when its diversionary attack captured the outwork in front of the Santiago gate. In the months since then it had seen little action, so it is reasonable to regard it as a seasoned unit, experienced but far from jaded, and full of confidence.

  On the morning of the battle, the 4th Caçadores had taken part in the skirmishing around Nuestra Señora de la Peña. There is no evidence of the casualties they suffered, but it seems unlikely that they were heavy, and the men had plenty of time to regain their composure before advancing into action again. The rest of the brigade had suffered only from the effects of the French artillery bombardment. It occupied a position in the allied line between the Lesser Arapile and Stubbs's brigade of the Fourth Division. As the Lesser Arapile is somewhat to the west, as well as to the north, of the Greater Arapile, and as Pack's troops were to its west, it was not directly opposite the French battery on the larger hill, which probably concentrated most of its fire on Anson's infantry and Dyneley's guns on the allied height. Pack's brigade was opposite the gap between the Greater Arapile and the beginning of the plateau – the position occupied by the 122nd Regiment of Bonnet's division.

  There is some doubt over the nature of the orders Pack received. In his official dispatch, Wellington implies that he gave the order for Pack to attack the French position: ‘I ordered … and Brig. Gen. Pack should support the left of the 4th division, by attacking that of the Dos Arapiles which the enemy held.’ Pack's own later account agrees with this: ‘My “cacadores” stood well at Bussaco and Ciudad Rodrigo, much to my wonderment, but my mind misgave me somewhat when I received the order to attack the hill at Hermanito [the Greater Arapile], the strongest part of the enemy's position; it is the duty of a soldier to obey and not to question, hence we advanced up the hill.’ And: ‘No one admires Lord Wellington more than myself, but I fear he expected overmuch from my “Hidalgos”, whose courage is of a vastly changeable nature.’ This is quite clear and unequivocal, but it is directly contradicted by Charles Synge's account. Synge was writing years later and his memory may have led him astray, but he liked and admired Pack, and would certainly not have consciously distorted the record to Pack's discredit, while as Pack's aide-de-camp he would surely have known the gist of the orders even if he did not hear them from Wellington. Yet he says: ‘The orders Sir Denis Pack had received were discretionary. He was to watch and mark the Arapiles, and not to let any of the enemy come down from it to molest the flank or rear of our left Division (Cole's). He was to exercise his own judgment, and if he saw a favourable opportunity, he was authorized to try and carry the Hill of the Arapiles.’2

  There is also some doubt over when Pack's attack was launched. Wellington and a well-informed Fourth Division source say that Bonnet only attacked Cole's flank after Pack's attack had been repulsed, while Synge states that Pack's assault only began when he saw that the Fourth Division was in difficulties and received an appeal for help from Cole.3 This is not a problem which can be resolved definitively, although it seems rather unlikely that Pack would attempt such a difficult and dangerous operation as an assault on the Greater Arapile when he could see that the nearest allied troops were struggling. It is easier to imagine that the attack was launched in a spirit of confidence, when Cole's advance was progressing well, and that, on this point at least, Synge is mistaken. The decision to attack, while always ambitious, is certainly easier to justify if Cole's advance was succeeding. If the Fourth Division was already faltering, it was an extremely risky and uncertain way of attempting to help it, when it would have been much simpler and more effective to have advanced to cover its retreat.

  These problems may cast a slight shadow over Synge's credibility, but he is the only witness who gives us the details of Pack's attack, while the outline of his account is amply confirmed by all the other relevant sources. According to Synge, Pack deployed his troops as if he was going to attack a fortress. They were led by a storming party of one hundred men of the 4th Caçadores under Major Fearon who, before the assault was launched, ‘were ordered to gain as much ground up the Hill as the enemy would let them, and then lie down’. The remaining caçadores were to advance on either side in open order, taking advantage of any cover they could find; presumably, their role was to provide covering fire for the attack, although Synge does not actually say so. The storming party was supported by the four grenadier companies (one from each battalion) under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Neil Campbell. Rather oddly, these were deployed in line. The remainder of the brigade followed in two columns: the two battalions of the 1st Regiment under Lieutenant-Colonel Noel Hill on the right; the two battalions of the 16th under Colonel Pizarro on the left.

  Because the only hope of success lay in a determined charge which might carry the hill in a rush, Pack ordered that all the troops should advance with unloaded muskets, for ‘once such troops as we had began firing they would never get to the top’. If the momentum of the attack was lost the assault would fail, and nothing could be gained by having the men stand on the open hillside blazing away against the French, who would remain secure on the summit. All but the boldest and best-disciplined infantry rapidly lost their forward impetus once they began firing, so that it was often the task of the officers and NCOs in an attack to keep their men moving forward and prevent them from opening fire. Nonetheless, it was rare to make an attack in the open field with unloaded muskets, although it might be done in storming fortifications. The reasons are obvious: with unloaded muskets the infantry were vulnerable to any sudden change of fortune, the unexpected appearance of cavalry on their flank or determined resistance from their immediate opponents. More importantly, it is likely that they felt vulnerable and defenceless. All might go well so long as the attack prospered; but if it was checked, the men would struggle to load their muskets under pressure and were likely to panic. Still, attacking the Greater Arapile at all was highly risky, and Pack evidently felt that it was worth increasing the danger of defeat if it minimized the chance of the attack stalling halfway up the hill.

  Formation of Pack's brigade attacking the Greater Arapile.

  The French held the Greater Arapile with three battalions of the 120th Ligne – some 1,800 officers and men – and a battery of probably no more than eight guns, which they had hauled to the summit. The flat table-top of the hill facing north made it easy for the guns and infantry to deploy, and the sweeping views in all directions ensured that they could not be taken by surprise.

  Charles Synge describes the attack so graphically that it would be a shame not to quote him at length. The order to advance has just been given:

  In a moment all the commanding officers were under weigh [sic]. As the General and I were riding to Major Fearon's sto
rming party, he remarked that both on the right and left of the point of direction which the storming party were taking there appeared better openings to get to the top, and he added, ‘I wish I had divided Fearon's party into two and sent half towards each of the openings, but it is too late now.’ I said, ‘Not if you choose to let me gallop at once and give him the order, and allow me to take command of one.’ He hesitated for a second, but on my repeating the offer and urging the necessity of my being off or it would be too late, he consented. I was soon up with Major Fearon. He took fifty to the left, and I the same number (not that we stopped to count) to the right. Immediately after this change my direction led through a patch of standing rye, where several of my little party fell, at first I supposed killed, for the enemy opened their guns as soon as they saw what we were about; but one man near my horse fell in such a manner that it struck me it was sham, and as he lay on his face I gave him rather a sharp prod with my sword – there was no time for any other appeal to his ‘honour’ – on which he turned up perfectly unhurt! What became of him afterwards I know not; I had other matters to think of … While I was appealing to feelings of all sorts and had just got through the last of the rye, Pack overtook me, and said in a whisper, ‘Synge! I think those fellows won't carry it for you.’ I said ‘Oh! yes, they will, we are over the worst of it.’ I meant the ground. The roar of the enemy's guns was tremendous as we approached the top, and somewhat unusual in its sound, for they tried to depress the muzzles of their guns as much as possible, and though they could not do so much harm, so steep was it, it sounded as if all but touched the top of our heads. I have never heard the like before. Those following in support fared worse.