formidable task to a besieging army, being protected on one side by the
river, 500 yards wide in places, and having several outworks, or forts,
notably one called the Picurina, on a hill to the south-east, whose
defenders could be reinforced along a covered-way leading to the San
Roque lunette close to the town walls.
Philippon had, moreover, taken every means possible to strengthen his
post: mines were laid, the arch of a bridge built up to form a large
inundation, ravelins constructed and ramparts repaired, ditches cut and
filled with water, and that he should have no useless mouths to fight
for, the inhabitants were ordered to lay up three months’ provisions or
march out there and then.
Such was Badajoz when Picton’s 3rd, or “Fighting,” Division; Lowry
Cole’s 4th--or, as they were nicknamed at the close of the war,
“Enthusiastic”--Division; and the Light, known as “_The_”
Division, invested it in the rain.
The rest of the army watched Soult’s movements closely, and prepared to
oppose the relief of the town if that should be attempted, and the 5th
Division was on its way from Beira to assist the siege.
As soon as darkness had fallen on the night of the 17th, 2,000 men
moved silently forward to guard our trenching parties, and, with
mattock and shovel, we began to break ground, 160 yards from the
Picurina, the sentinels on the ramparts hearing nothing, as the howling
of the wind drowned the sound of digging, and the sputtering rain
fell incessantly into the works. So well had the volunteers from the
3rd Division laboured, for we had no regular sappers, that the light
of the misty March morning revealed 4,000 feet of communication, and
a parallel 600 yards long, on perceiving which the garrison opened
a tremendous fire of cannon and musketry. The deafening roar of the
heavy guns and the crack of rifles and smooth-bores continued with
little cessation for many days, increasing as we finished battery after
battery and brought them to bear upon the doomed town.
The condition of our siege artillery would hardly be credited were
it not borne out by the unanimous published statements of credible
witnesses.
[Illustration: BADAJOZ.]
Of the fifty-two pieces, some dated from the days of Philip II. and
the Spanish Armada; others were cast in the reigns of Philip III. and
also John IV. of Portugal, who reigned in 1640; we had 24-pounders of
George II.’s day, and Russian naval guns; the bulk of the extraordinary
medley being obsolete brass engines which required seven to ten minutes
to cool between each discharge, lest the overheating should cause the
muzzles to drop.
The ammunition was little better, and an engineer officer tells us
that his 18-pound shot was of _three_ distinct sizes, which had
to be sorted out and painted different colours, while it was often
possible to put a finger between the ball and the top of the gun, when
the former was placed ready for ramming. Yet, with this miserable
_matériel_ we were expected to fight the most intelligent army in
Europe!
Wellington learned from his spies that the garrison were to make a
sally on the 19th, and at 1 o’clock the Talavera Gate suddenly opened,
a little body of horsemen jingling out, followed by 1,300 infantry, who
concealed themselves in the covered trench connecting San Roque with
the Picurina.
The cavalry pretended to skirmish, and, dividing into two parties, one
pursued the other towards our lines, where they were challenged, and
allowed to pass, on replying in Portuguese.
There was some excuse for the conduct of our pickets, as the French
dragoons, in consequence of the difficulty of procuring new uniforms
from France, were allowed to use the brown cloth so general all over
the Peninsula, and were thus easily mistaken for our Portuguese allies,
some of whom also dressed in brown. But we were soon undeceived, for
the troopers dashed at the engineers’ park, cut down some men, and
galloped off with several hundreds of the entrenching tools, for which
Philippon had offered a large reward.
Simultaneously the infantry sprang out of the covered-way with a part
of the Picurina garrison, and, rushing forward, began to destroy our
works.
We drove them back almost to the walls of Badajoz, killing thirty and
wounding 287. But we lost heavily, for it was a sharp encounter; and,
unhappily, our chief engineer, Colonel Fletcher, was badly hit, a
bullet striking a silver dollar in his fob and forcing it an inch into
the groin, confining him to his tent until the latter end of the siege,
the Earl going each morning to consult about the day’s operations.
Our movements were by no means faultless, Wellington having great
difficulties to contend with in many directions; in fact, during the
whole of the Peninsular War he may be said to have fought the French
with one hand, and Spanish pride, obstinacy, and selfishness with the
other--fortunate indeed in possessing a genius which was ever at its
best the more trying the emergency. We stationed a cavalry regiment to
prevent any further surprises, and continued our digging, the pitiless
rain slanting unceasingly on the trench guards in their grey overcoats
and oilskin shakoe-covers, while the working-parties shovelled and
measured, and piled up long ridges of earth, standing ankle-deep in the
water which filled the saps and trenches.
Many a man of the 3rd Division spun round and fell on the wet ground,
for the enemy kept up a steady fire, and one shell dropped, fizzing,
into a parallel and exploded, killing fifteen of the workers in a
moment.
The Guadiana, too, rose in full flood and tore away the pontoon bridge
which connected us with our stores at Elvas: it was replaced, however,
and the garrison of Badajoz saw us creeping nearer and nearer to their
walls, until, at last, our men finding the fire from the Picurina
terribly galling, it was decided to storm that fort on the 24th.
* * * * *
The rain had ceased, and the dark mass of the fort, held by some of the
Hesse-Darmstadt Regiment, loomed up, stern and silent, as five hundred
of Picton’s Division mustered before it about nine o’clock on a fine
night.
A hundred men were kept in reserve, while the remainder, divided into
two bodies, were to advance against the right and left flanks, also
securing the communication with San Roque to prevent any succour coming
from the town.
Scarcely had the word to march been given, when soaring rockets went up
from the ramparts, port-fires illuminated the darkness in places, and
the stillness became a babel of sounds, as shells came hissing towards
us, drums rolled, and the bells of Badajoz rang wildly amid the deep
booming of the heavy cannon. Red flashes streamed through the openings
in the palisading, the Hesse-Darmstadt opened a murderous fire, but we
swarmed irresistibly up the rocks and groped for the gate, the pioneers
of the Light Division leading with their axes.
Down in the communication our fellows repulsed a battalion coming to
the rescue, but it seemed for a time as if we had been baffled; the
sides of the hill were dotted with our dead. Oates, of the Connaught
Rangers, three engineer officers, with Majors Rudd and Shaw, who
commanded the attack, and many a private soldier had fallen there. But
as Powis, of the 83rd, brought up the reserve and forced the palings
in front, the pioneers discovered the gateway on the town side, and,
battering it down, rushed in with a shout.
Nixon, of the 52nd, was shot two yards within the entrance, and we
fought with gun-butt and bayonet against a most heroic resistance; but
at last they were overpowered, and half the garrison slain. One officer
and thirty men floundered through the inundation and gained Badajoz in
safety, but brave Gaspard Thierry, with the eighty-six survivors, were
compelled to surrender, and the death-dealing Picurina was ours.
The firing from the town ceased at midnight, but with the dawn of day
they turned their guns on to the captured fort, driving us out and
crumbling it to pieces.
Philippon had hoped to have held the work for four or five days, while
he completed certain partially-finished defences, and its capture and
destruction were a severe blow to him. But he urged his garrison to
fresh efforts by reminding them of the English prison-hulks, which, as
Napier justly says, were a disgrace to our country.
Three breaching-batteries were now constructed, one against the
Trinidad bastion, another to shatter the Santa Maria, and the
third--which consisted of howitzers--was to throw shrapnel into the
ditch, and so prevent the garrison from working there. We had been
eleven days before the town, and in spite of all the obstacles had made
considerable progress, although latterly a bright moon had interfered
with our nocturnal operations.
Overcoats were laid aside, and our men appeared in the well-worn
scarlet coatee with white-tape lace, and the black knee-gaiter, which
was the dress of a British-infantry private at that time. Pigtails had
been done away with four years previously, and the well-known grey
trousers were not issued to the troops until the following September.
The Rifle Corps wore dark green, and used a wooden mallet to drive the
ball down the grooved barrel; fusiliers and the grenadier companies of
the line had bearskin caps, and light infantry were distinguished by
green tufts in their felt shakoes, while our Portuguese friends were
mostly clad in blue or brown, with green for the _caçadores_, or
riflemen, each man carrying--including knapsack, accoutrements, kit,
and weapons, etc.--a weight of seventy-five pounds twelve ounces, or
ten pounds more than their opponents. The soldiers were enraged at the
inhabitants of Badajoz for admitting the French, a sentiment which
boded ill to them if we took the town. But, in the meantime, many
instances of pluck on both sides were exhibited. One morning, early,
before the working-party arrived, a brave fellow crept out of Badajoz
and moved a tracing-string nearer to the walls, so that when we began
digging in fancied security, their guns suddenly opened and bowled the
men over like nine-pins. Another time, two of our officers and some men
stole forward in the night, gagged a sentry, and laid barrels of powder
against the dam which confined the inundation, and got back in safety;
but the explosion did not have the desired effect.
At last, the stones began to fall from the Trinidad bastion, amid
clouds of dust, as ball after ball went home with terrific force; the
Santa Maria also crumbled under the cannonade, but, being casemated, it
resisted better than the other, which, by the 2nd of April, yawned in a
manner that must have dismayed the garrison, for they commenced to form
what is known as a retrenchment, or second line of defence, within the
walls, by levelling houses behind the growing breach. In places where
the fortifications had not been completed the energetic Frenchman hung
brown cloth which resembled earth, and his men were able to pass freely
along; they also made a raft with parapets and crossed the inundation
to our side. But all their efforts were useless: the breaches became
larger as masses of stone and rubbish fell like mimic avalanches into
the fosse below; and, on the 6th, a tremendous gap showed in the
ancient masonry of the curtain between the two bastions which had not
been renewed when the bastions themselves were rebuilt about 1757.
Then came a moment’s pause. Soult, Drouet, and Daricau were advancing:
a battle was imminent, and would need all our forces. In twenty-one
days we had expended 2,523 barrels of gunpowder, each barrel containing
ninety pounds, and we had fired 35,346 rounds of ammunition. Badajoz
must be taken at all risk; and orders were now given for the most
terrible of all species of warfare--_the night-attack by storm_!
* * * * *
Wellington’s commands were precise and to the point, but they were
terribly eloquent to those who read them. I have extracted a few
paragraphs from the original memorandum, and give them word for word:--
“1. The fort of Badajoz is to be attacked at 10 o’clock this night (6th
of April). 2. The attack must be made on three points--the castle, the
face of the bastion of La Trinidad, and the flank of the bastion of
Santa Maria. 3. The attack of the castle to be by escalade; that of the
two bastions, by the storm of the breaches.... 20. The 4th Division
must try and get open the gate of La Trinidad; the Light Division must
do the same by the gate called the Puerta del Pillar. 21. The soldiers
must leave their knapsacks in camp.... 24. Twelve carpenters with axes,
and ten miners with crowbars, must be with the Light, and ditto with
the 4th Division.”
The time had been altered from 7.30 to 10 o’clock, and during that
interval the French placed the celebrated _chevaux-de-frise_
of sharpened sword-blades in the gap we had made in the connecting
curtain; piles of shot and shell were laid along the ramparts, with
beams of wood, old carriage-wheels, and every conceivable missile that
their ingenuity could devise; each soldier had three loaded muskets
beside him, and, as the unusual stillness in our trenches warned them
that something was in preparation, an officer tried to reconnoitre us
with a little escort of cavalry, but we drove him back, and all was
quiet once more.
It was the calm before the storm, and men grew silent and thoughtful as
the time drew near.
Letters were written home by hands that would never use pen again;
absent friends were talked of in hushed voices, wills hastily made
as in the presence of death; the married soldiers lingered in their
quarters till the last moment, and then gave it out that they were
“going on guard”!
The April day drew into evening; a grey mist rose from the river and
stole among the trenches and the marshy ground, where frogs piped
dismally and field-crickets kept up their perpetual chirp; then night
came, still and cloudy, not a star visible, but here and there lights
flitted along the ramparts, and the challenge of the sentries could be
distinctly heard.
There was no bustle to show that eighteen thousand men were forming for
a desperate attack; company after company they mustered and got under
arms silently, words of command being given in a whisper.
Picton had been hurt by a fall, and his famous 3rd Division was led by
Kempt in consequence.
Its destination was the castle, whose walls were from eighteen to
twenty-four feet high; and the regiments which formed it were the 5th,
45th, 74th, 77th, 83rd, 88th, and 94th British, and the 9th and 21st
Portuguese.
The 5th Division, under Lieutenant-General Leith--composed also of
English and Portuguese--had to make a feint upon the Pardaleras outwork
to the left, and then march round and storm the San Vincente bastion
in rear of the town, while General Power made a false attack on the
bridge-head beyond the Guadiana.
[Illustration:
SPAIN & PORTUGAL
to illustrate
THE PENINSULAR WAR.]
The Light Division and the 4th, under Generals Colville and Barnard,
were to tackle the trenches, and were composed of the following
corps--the Light having the 43rd, 52nd, and 95th British, the 1st and
3rd Portuguese Caçadores; and the 4th Division, the 7th, 23rd, 27th,
40th, 48th, and 97th British, with the 11th and 23rd Portuguese, and
the 1st Battalion of the Lusitanian Legion.
The trench-guards and the “forlorn hope” fell in, and about 9 o’clock
four companies of the 95th Rifles crept forward and lay down, under the
crest of the glacis, within a few yards of the French sentinels, whose
heads could be seen, passing to and fro, against the sky.
Not a word was spoken as they crouched, unnoticed, in the mist that
veiled their dark uniforms. They waited the arrival of the “forlorn
hope” to begin the attack. At length a sentry peered over the parapet:
something had caught his quick ear, for he cried “_Qui vive?_” and
there was a moment of keen suspense.
Not satisfied, he again challenged, and, receiving no reply, fired his
musket into the darkness; and instantly the drums of Badajoz beat to
arms.
Still, for ten minutes more the riflemen lay motionless, until the
“forlorn hope” came up, and then, each man sighting carefully at the
heads above the rampart, they poured in a volley, and the attack began.
[Illustration:
“THE NEXT THEY WERE LEAPING, SLIDING, CLIMBING”
(_p._ 262).]
It was unfortunate--as it happened--for Wellington wished all our
assaults to take place simultaneously, but it could not be undone;
moreover the garrison threw a huge mass of combustibles, called “a
carcass,” from the walls, and by its powerful blaze they saw the 3rd
Division drawn up under arms; so, “Stormers to the front!” was our cry,
and we rushed on with an uproar of cheers and shouting.
The ladder-parties and those carrying the grass-bags ran forward,
scrambling across the trenches and broken ground, and, filing over the
Rivillas by a narrow bridge, reached the foot of the castle wall under
a heavy fire.
Brave Kempt, who afterwards fought at Waterloo, fell, badly wounded,
and as they carried him back he met Picton hurrying to take command
with his sword drawn.
The 3rd Division had only twelve ladders, and eighty to a hundred men
were all that could mount at a time; but they reared them against the
masonry, and fought with each other who should be first to ascend.
Stones, earth, live shells, beams, heavy shot, and a rain of musket
balls poured down; those who reached the top were stabbed and flung
on to the others behind them--here a cheer as a man grasped the
coping--there a howl of rage as the ladder was hurled broken from the
wall and all its occupants flung in a heap below.
“Forward the 5th Fusiliers--Come on, Connaught Rangers.” A corporal
of the 45th fell wounded on hands and knees, a ladder was placed on
his back in the confusion, his comrades mounting above him, and he was
found next day crushed to death, the blood forced from his ears and
nose.
Several of the ladders were broken, and those that remained were flung
off repeatedly by the garrison on the ramparts, until the French cried
“Victory,” and the 3rd Division retired for a moment, to re-form under
the crest of the hill.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, the 4th and Light Divisions, after a double allowance of
grog had been served out, marched quickly on to the breaches, and the
trench-guard rushed at San Roque with such fury that they bayoneted its
defenders and carried the lunette without a rebuff.
As the stormers of the Light Division moved off, Major Peter
O’Hare--who had risen from the ranks to a commission in the 95th (a
most unusual thing in those days), and who was, moreover, one of the
ugliest men and one of the bravest in the army--shook hands with George
Simmonds, of the Rifles, saying--“A lieutenant-colonel or cold meat in
a few hours!” They found him next morning stone dead and stark naked,
with nearly a dozen bullets in his gallant frame. Officers were divided
into two categories by the Peninsular soldiers--the “Come on” and the
“Go on.” O’Hare was one of the former.
As the firing commenced at the castle, the heads of the double columns
reached the glacis to find all quiet and the place wrapped in profound
gloom.
The ditch yawned beneath them, and the stormers threw their grass-bags,
which measured some six feet by three feet, into it, lowered the
_five_ ladders which did duty for both divisions, and the “forlorn
hope” of the Light Division descended into the chasm, doomed to a man!
A musket-shot told them that the silence was a treacherous one; but
none were prepared for the awful scene that followed. The ditch was
crowded with the stormers, and men waited their turn to follow down
the ladders, when all at once a tongue of flame lit up the darkness, a
terrific explosion seemed to rend the earth itself, and five hundred
brave fellows were blown into eternity under the eyes of their comrades
on the glacis above them.
One second’s space the Light Division stood aghast, the next, they were
leaping, sliding, climbing, never heeding the depth, into the gory
grave that lay between them and the breaches, with a roar that went
echoing along the walls of Badajoz--a roar of fury never to be appeased
until bayonet should meet bayonet on the towering ramparts, fringed
with the foe, beyond.
Down poured the 4th Division and mingled with them: the ditch was full
of shouting redcoats, all struggling, regardless of rank, to get at
the French, who, yelling defiance in their turn, showered grape, round
shot, canister, hand grenades, stones, shells, and buckshot upon them;
rolling huge cannon-balls from the parapet, sending baulks of timber
thudding into the tumult, and coach-wheels that acquired a fearful
velocity as they bounded down the rocks into the living mass of British
valour pent up in the deathtrap below.
Bursts of dazzling light were succeeded by moments of intense darkness;
for an instant the huge bastions showed, bristling with armed men, to
be lost again in a Stygian gloom, re-illumined the next minute by the
flashing guns--by wavering port fires, and trailing rockets. A hundred
Albuera men of the Fusiliers were drowned in an unexpected water-ditch;
the air was heavy with gunpowder smoke and the sickening stench of the
stagnant pools; individuals and regiments alike surged and scrambled
to find a passage; until at last, getting on to an unfinished ravelin,
mistaken in the confusion for a breach, both divisions were jumbled
together, and great disorder ensued.
Wellington, watching from a hill, and seeing the pause, exclaimed
repeatedly: “What can be the matter?” sending aide-de-camp after
aide-de-camp to report progress, as the glare revealed the faces on the
ramparts and the peculiar hollow booming reached him, caused by the
garrison firing down into the cavernous depths of the ditch.
[Illustration: THE 5TH DIVISION STORMING BY ESCALADE
THE RAMPARTS OF SAN VINCENTE (_p._ 263).]
At length there was a rush for the great breach. Officers and men,
having extricated themselves from the carnage below, rushed on, to find
an impenetrable barrier of sword-blades fixed in wooden beams and set
firmly across the opening, while the _débris_ in front was strewn
with planks covered with spikes: if a soldier trod on one of them it
slid down, either throwing him on the spikes or sending him back on
to the bayonets of his comrades; and, to crown all, the garrison rolled
barrels of powder into the middle of us, which exploded with shocking
effect, filling the nostrils with the smell of burning flesh and singed
hair, and strewing the breach with scarlet figures in every conceivable
attitude of agony and death!
Our gallant fellows charged madly in masses, in groups, and even
singly, one private of the Rifles forcing himself among the
sword-blades, where the enemy shattered his bare head with their
musket-butts.