Forward into Battle Read online

  Walker immediately advanced his gallant 50th to the crest of the hill, where he gave the words, ‘Ready, present! and let every man fire when he has taken his aim.’ This order was most strictly obeyed, and produced a commencement of destruction and carnage which the enemy had not anticipated. Then Walker called out, raising his drawn sword and waving it high over his head, ‘Three cheers and charge, my fine fellows!’ and away went this gallant regiment, huzzaing all the time of their charge down the hill, before the French recovered from their astonishment at discovering that the guns were not unprotected by infantry.

  This rush forward was awfully grand; the enemy remained firm and almost motionless, until our men were within ten to twenty yards from them; then discharged a confused and ill-directed fire from some of their front ranks, for the line had not yet been formed to its full extent, and the rear were already breaking up and partially running off. The whole now turned round and started off, every man throwing away his arms and accoutrements.…8

  The above account offers many points of interest. It shows that very considerable fire had been put into the French formation by skirmishers and artillery before ever the two main infantry lines saw each other. It also suggests that the firm countenance of the gunners, still without the appearance of the British infantry, was enough to persuade the French to halt, and even to deploy into line at fairly close range from their intended target. Finally, it shows that the action of the British infantry line itself consisted of a movement in three parts: first an advance to the crest of the hill, then a volley, and then an instantaneous bayonet charge with cheering, before the French had time to recover their balance. This would certainly confirm Colin’s theory that French attacks were ambushed from dead ground before their deployment was completed; but it gives no support to the view that a protracted line infantry duel (with volleys ‘at regular 15 second intervals’) had any part in the result. It seems to have been rather the British assault, and the effects of surprise, which were decisive.

  Colonel Walker, who commanded the 50th, tells a similar story. He says the French column was:

  Much shaken by the steady fire of the artillery; after a short pause behind a hedge to recover, it again continued to advance; till Lieutenant Colonel Robe, RA, no longer able to use the guns, considered them lost. Up to this time the 5th had remained at order arms, but as it was impossible, on the ground on which it stood, to contend against so superior a force, and Colonel Walker having observed that the enemy’s column inclined to the left, proposed to Brigadier-General Fane to attempt to turn its flank by a wheel of the right wing. Permission for this having been obtained, this wing was thrown into echelon of companies about four paces to the left, advanced thus for a short distance, and then [was] ordered to form line to the left. The rapidity, however, of the enemy’s advance, and their having already opened a confused though very hot fire from the flank of their column – though only two companies of the wings were yet formed [i.e. on the British side] – these were so nearly in contact with the bearing on the angle of the column that Colonel Walker, thinking no time was to be lost, ordered an immediate volley and charge. The result exceeded his most sanguine expectation. The angle was instantly broken, and the drivers of the three guns advanced in front, alarmed at the fire in their rear, cutting the traces of their horses, and rushing back with them, created great confusion, which by the time the three outer companies could arrive to take part in the charge, became general.9

  Walker here refines Landmann’s account at a number of points. Firstly, he does not say that the French attempted to deploy into line, but continues to refer to a ‘column’ with a distinct ‘angle’ at the point of his attack. He does mention a French pause behind a hedge to regroup, which is probably Landmann’s first halt at long musket range; but it is curious that he makes no mention of a later halt to deploy.

  Battle of Vimeiro 1808.

  Secondly, he claims that it was his conversation with his own brigade commander, Fane, which initiated the forward movement of the British infantry. Landmann claimed it was his conversation with Anstruther, well to the left of the 50th, which started the movement of both the 50th and the 43rd. We can perhaps suggest that both were right, if we guess that Walker and Fane started the 50th, while Landmann and Anstruther started the supporting advance of the 43rd. The 43rd was part of Anstruther’s Brigade, so this would have been the natural command responsibility.

  Walker also makes it clear that he attacked the enemy in their flank rather than frontally, and that only two British companies were fully formed when the attack went in. The remaining companies of the 50th were left either in front of the French or echeloned further to the right, not yet ready to assault. If we were to follow Oman’s habit of counting the muskets which could bear, we would have to conclude that this dispersion of the British considerably reduced their own firepower, while by appearing on the enemy’s front and flank together they must actually have improved the French score. Walker indeed complains of a ‘very hot fire’ coming from the attacked flank. But we do not need to count muskets, since it is plain that the British fired only one partial volley. They defeated the French by their forward impetus and the panic retreat of the advanced French gunners who rode straight back into their own troops.

  British firepower from artillery and skirmishers at long range doubtless played a significant part in this action, but sustained volleying from ‘the thin red line’ did not. Instead it was a number of psychological shocks, coming one after the other in quick succession, which overthrew the enemy. First there was the unexpected appearance of the 50th; then its partial volley, cheering and reckless dash forward; and finally the stampede of the French gunners. All this happened so fast that the French had no time to work out what had hit them. All they could do was run away.

  Those who fondly believe that Wellington’s infantry was splendidly stodgy and immobile in its battles should note well what the 50th did at Vimeiro. It had ‘solidity’ in the sense that it retained its coolness and performed rather complex echelon movements remarkably close to the enemy; but it was far from static. Its great strength lay in its astonishingly daring yet perfectly judged offensive stroke.

  Walker’s men rushed upon the enemy with the bayonet; they made what is termed a ‘bayonet charge’. The fact that the enemy chose to run away before bayonets were actually crossed does not alter this fact. As it happens, Rifleman Harris suggests that some genuine bayonet fighting did take place on this occasion; but whatever truth there is in this story it was at least the British intention to close with the bayonet. The purpose of their musket volley was apparently the same as that of their cheering – to make a frightening noise which would enhance the effect of their attack. The British did not expect to kill the French by shooting them, but by bayonetting them. It was to the advantage of all concerned that in the event the French preferred to sacrifice their discipline, cohesion and accoutrements rather than their lives.

  A study of British infantry tactics in the Napoleonic Wars reveals that this reliance upon the bayonet was far from rare. Reports of officers’ words at the moment of going into action certainly stress the point. Thus at the Battle of Busaco, 1810, Wellington told General Hill: ‘If they attempt this point again, Hill, you will give them a volley and charge bayonets.’10

  Also at Busaco, Colonel Wallace of the 88th briefed his unit as follows: Tay attention to what I have so often told you, and when I bring you face to face with those French rascals, drive them down the hill – don’t give the false touch, but push home to the muzzle!’11

  This last expression seems to have been rather a favourite of Wallace’s, since he used it again during Pakenham’s decisive attack at the Battle of Salamanca, 1812, telling his men to: ‘Push on to the muzzle.’12

  General Pack, at Waterloo, briefed the 92nd Highlanders as follows: ‘92nd, everything has given way to your right and left and you must charge this [approaching French] column.’13

  It would admittedly be a mistake to
place too much reliance upon reported exhortations of this type, since they have no doubt been much embroidered in the telling. There are, however, many more of them in the same vein, as well as considerable evidence of other types that the British were known for their ability with the bayonet. Thus General Wilson, who was attached to the Russian army, said that the Russians were very good with the bayonet, and only one other army approached them in this – the British. A French general at Waterloo also praised the British infantry; not for its fire, but because ‘It does not fear to close with its enemy with the bayonet.’14

  In most of the Peninsular battles, and in most of the combats during the Hundred Days, we find British infantry waiting until the French came to close range, then starting a counter-advance to their own; usually with a single volley to empty their muskets, and always with plenty of cheering. In Wallace’s action at Salamanca, indeed, we learn that the first cheer alone had a rather dramatic result:

  The effect was electric; Foy’s troops were seized with a panic, and as Wallace closed upon them, his men could distinctly remark their bearing. Their mustachioed faces, one and all, presented the same ghastly hue, a horrid family likeness throughout; and as they stood to receive the shock they were about to be assailed with, they reeled to and fro like men intoxicated.15

  It seems that the close range counter-attack was a standard procedure with Wellington’s men. It offers a good example of how an army may develop sound fighting techniques in the rough and tumble of combat which are not mentioned in its drill books. The word was apparently spread informally among the officers without being codified in writing. This, of course, is confusing for historians who have only the formal written documents to guide them, and many are those who have believed that drill books contain the key to what really happened. Drill books, however, have only a somewhat limited application in battle, and are often hopelessly out of date. (The present author’s uncle, for example, was taught from his OTC drill book in the 1920s to form square against cavalry!) In Napoleonic times drill books provided only the building-blocks of tactics – the mechanical procedures for bringing each company from one position to another, for changing formation, or for maintaining alignment. The tactical use to which these methods were put was left to the local inspiration of battalion commanders and, as we have seen at Vimeiro, their brigadiers.

  The British drill book during the Peninsular War was Dundas’ ‘Eighteen Movements’, based directly upon Frederick the Great’s Prussian drill. It rested on the assumption that opposing lines of infantry would form up for a duel of musketry, and that they would fight by fire. Dundas in fact specifically rejected the formation in two ranks (rather than three) partly on the grounds that it might tempt an enemy to make a bayonet attack, and so spoil the firefight. It is perhaps significant, therefore, that in practice the formation in three ranks was one of the first parts of Dundas to be abandoned. British infantry had fought in two ranks in Egypt, and formally adopted this system in 1801.16

  Wellington’s infantry did from time to time fight by fire according to the Dundas and Oman model; but this was much less common than is generally believed. One reason for the common belief, perhaps, is the coincidence that untypical firefights chanced to develop in two of the actions which have most seized the public imagination. These two famous incidents came when seven British battalions made a gallant stand against heavy odds at Albuera in 1811; and when Maitland’s guard brigade defeated the French Imperial Guard at Waterloo. It may be worth our while to look at these two fights in greater detail.

  Albuera is celebrated for the same reason as Balaklava; the plans of the high command went wrong from the start and had to be saved from disaster by feats of exceptional bravery and sacrifice by the rank and file. When Beresford’s Anglo-Spanish army was outflanked by a heavy French force and caught trying to change front, Colborne’s brigade was sent in piecemeal to plug the gap. This unit was just developing a successful counter-charge when it was overthrown by the unexpected and simultaneous arrival of a cloudburst and a charge of French lancers. Only one of Colborne’s four battalions survived the shock, which once again uncovered the army’s flank. After this two new brigades, Hoghton’s and Abercrombie’s, had to be fed in successively over the broken ground which had already been disputed so fiercely. With a heavy enemy infantry column in front of them, artillery firing grapeshot into them overhead, and cavalry threatening their flanks, it was hardly surprising that these troops were unable to achieve a quick decision by a brisk bayonet charge. They did, apparently, edge forward gradually; but:

  Unfortunately the intervention of a steep but narrow gulley rendered it impossible to reach the enemy with the bayonet, and the 29th [the leading British battalion] was directed to halt and open fire.17

  It was in these general conditions, with or without a gully, that the famous firefight of Albuera developed. Far from being the chosen tactic of the British, it was forced upon them by circumstances. In the event the two opposed masses of infantry faced each other for about 45 minutes, exchanging shots and suffering exceptionally heavy casualties. Neither side had any offensive impetus remaining to it, and the nature of the terrain may also have made close combat difficult. The deadlock was resolved only by the arrival of new troops, especially Myers’ Fusilier brigade, against the French left flank and rear. It was this fresh impetus against the exhausted units already in the fight which won the day for the British.

  Albuera demonstrates that attacking troops will lose their forward motion if they are allowed to settle down to a firefight. This chanced to happen to both sides at the same time, and the result was a perfectly indecisive butchery. It was resolved only by the arrival of fresh troops who retained the ability to press forward.

  Because the British at Albuera did hold their position for 45 minutes against superior numbers, it could be argued that their tactic was successful. If we remember that each of the battalions concerned lost about two-thirds of its strength, however, we may be permitted to wonder whether they could not have won the day more economically by other means. Those who suggest that the British always wanted to fight by fire would appear to be advocating a process which was excessively lengthy, inconclusive and costly. Small wonder that a briskly decisive bayonet charge was usually preferred.

  Towards the end of the Battle of Waterloo Napoleon launched an attack with six battalions of his Guard, of which five battalions18 made their assault against the low ridge running between the farms of Hougoumont and La Haie Sainte. As they advanced, these units fanned out to give themselves elbow room; but in so doing they lost the precision of their dressing, and their line became staggered. The result was that each battalion’s attack appeared to be a separate action, and each one went in at a slightly different time. This has led to a great deal of confusion, since by that stage of the battle there was a lot of smoke in the air, and few observers could see very far to either side. Accounts therefore vary wildly as to when ‘the Guard attack’ occurred, or what became of it. Every unit which encountered one or other of the French battalions is anxious to claim the honour of having defeated the entire Imperial Guard.

  The popular view of what happened is predictably the most emotionally pleasing, since it has ‘the French Guard column’ meeting Maitland’s line of British Guards – surely a fitting final contest in a battle where the best French commander met the best British commander for the first and last time. Rising from their concealed position the two British battalions, in this account, pour in a terrific fire of musketry for minutes on end until the French eventually break under it and run away. As always, of course, most versions point out that a line formation can bring more muskets to bear than can a column, so its victory is mathematically assured. Most accounts also specify that the French made an attempt to deploy, so that the decision could be reached entirely by musketry rather than by bayonets.

  Another popular touch is the decisive personal role attributed to the Duke of Wellington himself, who is supposed to have shouted ‘Up Guar
ds’ to Maitland’s men at the moment when the French approached to close range. Funnily enough the folk memory of this intervention has the Duke saying ‘Up Guards and at ’em’, which would imply an offensive purpose. Believers in the firepower theory, however, claim that he actually said ‘Up Guards, make ready, fire’ (Weller) – apparently following two French authorities who give ‘Debout Gardes, et visez bien’ (Mauduit) and ‘Debout Gardes et visez juste’ (Charras). The greatest student of Waterloo, Siborne, variously quotes either the simple ‘Up Guards’ on its own, or the more aggressive ‘Up and Charge!’ but it is probably the opinion of Major Saltoun, an eyewitness, which is nearest the mark. He says Wellington said nothing at all, and that the tactical decisions were all taken by Maitland and his subordinate officers.19

  However this may be, there is a pretty fair agreement in the sources that Maitland’s men did defeat a French Guard column by a lengthy exchange of musketry; that the enemy did attempt to deploy into line; and that he eventually broke before the British started to move forward in pursuit. For all our reservations, therefore, we must accept this as a rare bona fide case of a successful firefight. Where British line fire at Albuera had failed to rout the French, British Guard fire at Waterloo apparently succeeded.

  There is nevertheless a lot more to the story than this, since Maitland was facing only two out of the five French battalions. What happened to the other three? It is difficult to say with certainty, because eyewitnesses were often themselves unclear. It seems, however, that all three of the remaining French battalions were repulsed by bayonet charges, and did not attempt to deploy.