March from Elvas to Badajoz—Defences of that city—The
investment—A sortie—Operations of the batteries—Capture of
fort Picurina—Preparations for the grand assault—Advance of the
"forlorn hope"—Desperate encounter at the breaches—Loss of life
experienced by the British—The mode of attack changed to escalade
with success—The city sacked by the British troops—Reflections
respecting the conduct of the siege—Incidental anecdotes.
On the morning of the 17th of March we formed contiguous columns,
outside the walls of Elvas, and entering a spacious plain, passed the
river Guadiana by a pontoon bridge, a few miles below Badajoz, which
was garrisoned by nearly five thousand French soldiers. It is situated
on the margin of the left bank of the Guadiana, in the province of
Estremadura, in Spain, and encompassed by an open country, without a
tree, a shrub, or even a hut to be seen without its walls. The ramparts
are about two miles in circumference, and were protected by the forts
San Cristoval, Napoleon, and the _Tête de Pont_, at the head of the
fine stone bridge, which communicates with the right bank of the
Guadiana.
The fort Picurina, the outworks of Pardalaras, and the _lunette_ of
Saint Roque, constituted the general outworks of the city, on the left
bank of the river.
As we drew near the ramparts of the fortress, we saw the flag of _three
colours_ majestically waving on the top of the great lofty square
tower, in the centre of the old castle, which stands on the summit of
a hill, whose frowning battlements overhang the town, and overlook the
adjacent plains for a considerable distance.
The third, fourth, and light divisions invested the city on the left
bank of the Guadiana[18].
Our division bivouacked within one mile and a half S.S.W. of the town,
our position communicating in a manner with the bridge of boats. The
day was fine; but at six o'clock in the evening the rain began to fall
in torrents, and continued the whole night, which prevented the enemy
hearing the troops when they commenced the first parallel, and the
latter continued to work all night without being molested.
Before daylight on the 18th, the parties fell in to relieve those of
our division who had first broke ground, a thousand yards S. E. of the
town; we had to make a quarter circle, which rendered the march nearly
three miles to the mouth of the trench, where we arrived at daybreak,
and I saw the first shot; it was fired from the Fort Picurina, and
killed two poor fellows in the covering party of the fourth division,
which was formed under the slope of a hill. In a few minutes the
round shot came up the road quite often enough to put our blood into
circulation; and we immediately took our station under a small natural
rise of ground, where we remained covering the workmen for twelve
hours. The cannonade was pretty regular during the day, both from the
town and from Fort Picurina.
We returned to camp an hour after dark, and I was surprised to find the
division had been supplied with Portuguese tents. I found my friend
waiting in one for me, and the canteens laid out with all the affection
of a youthful soldier. I had been exposed in the rain for twenty-five
hours, and this was one of the happiest moments of my life.
On the 19th, at mid-day, the firing from the town was very heavy; every
one in the best position for security, which it was not difficult to
obtain, as the trenches were well advanced, but every body cried "Keep
down," for which truly there was no occasion. Notwithstanding this
cry, Israel Wild, and another man of our regiment, who was afterwards
killed, (a splendid soldier,) got on the top of the trench. I caught
hold of Israel's[19] jacket, to pull him down, but he turned round,
and said, in a most furious manner, "We know what we are about;" then
looking forward for a moment, shouted, with an oath, that the French
were coming on, and instantly sprung out of the trench like a tiger,
following his comrade, just such another fine fellow. Two or three
French dragoons at that instant fired their pistols into the trenches,
having approached within a few yards without being perceived. We had
just entered the mouth of the first parallel, and all joined in a
simultaneous attack on the enemy's infantry, without regard to trenches
or any thing else. The French being beaten out of the advanced lines,
retired and formed line under the castle, having two field-pieces on
their left flank. I cannot say how they entered the town, there was so
much smoke covering them, when near the walls. _General Philippon knew
his business well._ Fourteen hundred men came out—two battalions.
We had quite abandoned the trenches, and approached near to the castle.
I perceived two soldiers of another division, who were stretched
close to where I stood: one was quite dead, a round shot having
passed through his body; the other had lost a leg, his eyelids were
closed, and he was apparently dead. An adventurous Portuguese began to
disincumber him of his clothes. The poor soldier opened his eyes and
looked in the most imploring manner, while the villain had him by the
belts, lifting him up. I gave the humane Portuguese a blow with the
back of my sabre, that laid him prostrate for a time, by the side of
the soldier he was stripping.
I know not what became of the wounded man, as my attention was
attracted by an extraordinary circumstance. I saw a heavy shot hopping
along, till it struck a soldier on the hip; down he went, motionless. I
felt confident that the wounded man was not dead, and begged that some
of his comrades would carry him off to the rear, (we were now retiring
under a heavy cannonade); my words were at first unheeded, but two
soldiers, at the risk of their lives, rushed back, and brought him in,
or he, with many others, would have been starved to death, between our
lines and the ramparts of the town. His hip was only grazed, and his
clothes untorn; but, of course, he was unable to walk, and seemed to
feel much pain, for he groaned heavily.
The sortie took place about a quarter after twelve; (_military time,
quite correct_;) we were filing into the trenches. The day was fine,
and the time well selected by the governor, as he concluded that the
front parallel would be vacant while the relief was coming in; but
there was an order against that.
The trenches were very extensive. The weather again became bad, and
our right battery was silenced; but when the great breaching battery
was completed, it fired salvos, which the enemy returned in a similar
manner from a battery just under the castle-gate, on a commanding
situation. One morning, at daylight, the enemy brought a light gun out
of the town to enfilade the right of the front parallel; but as the
relief came in at the time, I do not know the sequel of it.
The left of our lines, previously to the escalade of Picurina, ran
within about a hundred yards parallel to it. One hundred of our
regiment were employed one night on the delightful job of carrying the
trenches across the Seville road. We commenced at the distance of one
hundred and fifty yards from the fort. The instant the enemy heard
the pickaxes striking on the hard road, they opened, when, strange to
relate, eleven rounds of grape were poured on us, and yet only one
officer was hit. The gunners could not depress their artillery so as to
cover the spot we were on.
I was surprised that they used no musketry; but I imagine they had
orders not to do so at night, unless an attempt was made to escalade
the fort.
Picurina was situated on a rising ground, without the least appearance
of strength. Three hundred of the enemy formed the garrison, and
latterly they were obliged to block up their embrasures with sand-bags,
to screen themselves from the musketry of our lines; now and then they
cleared away to fire grape shot.
Towards the end of the siege the weather became beautiful. One day in
particular, the enemy scarcely fired a shot, all our troubles were
forgotten, and two or three of us amused ourselves by reading a novel
in the trenches.
Lieutenant Wilkinson,[20] was among the wounded on that day. There was
a path across a field, which communicated with our grand battery, and
an order forbade any person to cross it in the day-time, as the French
were continually firing small arms whenever any lazy-fellow took that
road. Poor little Wilky's curiosity was excited; he made a start out of
fun, was just entering the battery, when alas! he fell, shot through
the thigh.
On the night of the 25th, a part of the third division, and also one
hundred of the light division, carrying ladders, assailed Picurina,
directed by General Sir James Kempt, and for a long time without
success: no wonder! The ditch was terrifically deep, and narrow at the
bottom. The soldiers walked round the fort, prying into all corners,
and got upon the gate, which they broke down, and then entered,
bayonets in advance. The French grenadiers would not give in—a
desperate bayonetting took place, and much blood was spilt; already
five hundred French soldiers from the town were at hand. The struggle
continued with hard fighting, inside and outside of the fort. The enemy
wished to vie with their comrades who had defended Fort St. Christoval
at the former siege. Victory was some minutes doubtful; at length the
fort was taken, and the reinforcements were beaten back into the town.
I was sitting at the door of my tent, and witnessed all the firing.
The garrison of Badajoz fired every morning, for a few days previously
to the grand assault, a certain number of rounds, as if for practice,
and to measure the ground.
The first order for storming the breaches fixed it to take place on the
5th of April. I was informed that my turn for trench duty fell on that
evening, because the officer just preceding me was out of the way. I
resolved to play a like trick, and for a like reason, namely, not to
miss the assault. I therefore got a friend to persuade the Adjutant to
allow that the men should march off without me, promising to follow. This
anecdote I relate, because of the curious circumstance that it led to.
When I was quite certain that the assault was not to take place that
night, I mounted my horse, and, riding to the entrance of the first
parallel, I gave the animal to my batman, and proceeded on foot. I had
just crossed the trench, and got into a field, taking a short cut, when
I observed two figures making towards me. There was not any firing; a
solemn silence reigned around. Coming up at a half run, I put my hand
to my sword, for the night was clear, and I saw they were not soldiers;
they soon closed on me, demanding boldly, and in Spanish, the way
out of the trenches: I pointed out the road to them, but, an instant
after, suspected they were not _Spaniards_, but spies. I noticed they
kept their hands behind them, and I thought it also very _civil_ of
them not to fire, for I am confident they were well armed. "_Buenas
noches, Señor_," said they, and hastily retired. When I reached the
great battery, and found every body in it asleep, I thought the place
bewitched. This was my last trip to the trenches. Thirteen times I
visited them during the siege.
A long order was issued relative to the positions the troops were to
occupy. On the 6th of April, the day was fine, and all the soldiers in
good spirits, cleaning themselves as if for a review. About two o'clock
I saw Lieutenant Harvest of our regiment; he was sucking an orange,
and walking on a rising ground, alone, and very thoughtful. It gave me
pain, as I knew he was to lead the "forlorn hope". He observed, "My
mind is made up; I am sure to be killed[21]."
At half-past eight o'clock that night the ranks were formed, and
the roll called in an under-tone. Lieutenant-Colonel M'Leod spoke
long and earnestly to the regiment before it joined the division,
expressing the utmost confidence in the result of the attack, and
finished by repeating, that he left it to the honour of all persons to
preserve discipline, and not to commit any cruelty on the defenceless
inhabitants of the town.
The division drew up in the most profound silence behind the large
quarry, three hundred yards from the _three_ breaches, made in the
bastions of la Trinidad, and Santa Maria. A small stream separated
us from the fourth division. Suddenly, a voice was heard from that
direction, giving orders about ladders, so loud, that it might be
heard by the enemy on the ramparts. It was the only voice that broke
on the stillness of the moment; every body was indignant, and Colonel
M'Leod sent an officer to say that he would report the circumstance
to the General-in-Chief. I looked up the side of the quarry, fully
expecting to see the enemy come forth, and derange the plan of attack.
It was at half-past nine this happened, but, at a quarter before ten,
the ill-timed noise ceased, and nothing could be heard but the loud
croaking of the frogs.
At ten a carcass was thrown from the town; this was a most beautiful
fire-work, and illuminated the ground for many hundred yards; two or
three fire-balls followed, and, falling in different directions, showed
a bright light, and remained burning. The stillness that followed was
the prelude to one of the strangest scenes that the imagination of man
can conceive.
Soon after ten o'clock, a little whispering announced that "the forlorn
hope" were stealing forward, followed by the storming parties, composed
of three hundred men, (one hundred from each British regiment of
our division;) in two minutes the division followed[22]. One musket
shot, _no more_, was fired near the breaches by a French soldier,
who was on the look out. We gained ground leisurely—but silently;
there were no obstacles. The 52nd, 43rd, and part of the rifle corps,
closed gradually up to column of quarter distance, left in front;
all was hushed, and the town lay buried in gloom; the ladders were
placed on the edge of the ditch, when suddenly an explosion took
place at the foot of the breaches, and a burst of light disclosed the
whole scene:—the earth seemed to rock under us:—what a sight! The
ramparts crowded with the enemy—the French soldiers standing on the
parapets—the fourth division advancing rapidly in column of companies
on a quarter circle to our right, while the short-lived glare from the
barrels of powder and combustibles flying into the air, gave to friends
and foes a look as if both bodies of troops were laughing at each other.
A tremendous firing now opened on us, and for an instant we were
stationary; but the troops were _no ways daunted_. The only three
ladders were placed down the scarp to descend into the ditch, and
were found exactly opposite the centre breach, and the whole division
rushed to the assault with amazing resolution. There was no check. The
soldiers flew down the ladders, and the cheering from both sides was
loud and full of confidence.
While descending the ladders into the ditch, furious blows were
exchanged amongst the troops in their eagerness to get forward; at
the same time grape-shot and musketry tore open their ranks. The
first officer I happened to see down was Captain Fergusson, who had
led on our storming-party here, and at Rodrigo; he was lying to the
right of the ladders, with a wound on the head, and holding a bloody
handkerchief in his grasp[23]. I snatched it out of his hand, and tied
it round his head. The French were then handing over the fire-balls,
which produced a sort of revolving light. The ditch was very wide,
and when I arrived at the foot of the centre breach, eighty or ninety
men were formed. One cried out, "Who will lead?" This was the work of
a moment. Death, and the most dreadful sounds and cries encompassed
us. It was a volcano! Up we went; some killed, and others impaled on
the bayonets of their own comrades, or hurled headlong amongst the
outrageous crowd.
The _chevaux-de-frise_ looked like innumerable bayonets. When within
a yard of the top, I fell from a blow that deprived me of sensation.
I only recollect feeling a soldier pulling me out of the water, where
so many men were drowned. I lost my cap, but still held my sword. On
recovering, I looked towards the breach. It was shining and empty! fire
balls were in plenty, and the French troops standing upon the walls,
taunting, and inviting our men to come up and try it again.
Colonel M'Leod was killed while trying to force the left corner of the
large breach[24]. He received his mortal wound within three yards of
the enemy, just at the bottom of some nine-feet planks, studded with
nails, and hanging down the breach from under the _chevaux-de-frise_.
At half-past eleven the firing slackened, and the French detached
soldiers from the breaches to repulse the other attacks, and to
endeavour to retake the castle. I heard the enemy calling out on the
ramparts in German, "All is well in Badajoz!"
The British soldiers did as much as _men could do_. The wood-work
of the _chevaux-de-frise_ was ponderous, bristling with short stout
sword-blades fastened in it, and chained together. It was an obstacle
not to be removed, and the French soldiers stood close to it, killing
deliberately every man who approached it. The large breach was at one
time crowded with our brave troops; I mean the fourth division, the
heroes of many hard-fought victories and bloody fields. The light
division had recently been crowned with victory; but to remove such
obstacles was impracticable by living bodies, pushing against them up a
steep breach, and sinking to the knees every step in rubbish, while a
fearless enemy stood behind pushing down fragments of masonry and live
shells, and firing bullets, fixed on the top of pieces of wood, the
sides of which were indented with seven or eight _buck_ shot.
Generals Picton, Colville, Kempt, Bowes, Hervey, Walker, Champlemond,
and almost every officer commanding regiments, besides more than three
hundred officers, and between four and five thousand gallant veteran
soldiers, fell around these walls.
The left breach[25] had not been attempted at all until a quarter
before twelve o'clock, when Captain Shaw of our regiment[26],
collecting about seventy men of different regiments, and with great
difficulty, after such slaughter for two hours, made a desperate effort
to gain the top; but when half-way up, as if by enchantment, he stood
alone. Two rounds of grape and the musketry prevented any more trouble,
for almost the whole of the party lay stretched in various attitudes!
Captain Nichols[27], of the Engineers, was of the number; he now showed
great courage; and when asked by Shaw, if he would try the left breach,
answered he would do any thing to succeed. A grape-shot went through
his lungs, and he died three days after.
This attack was very daring. It was a forlorn hope, under accumulated
dangers; almost all the troops had retired[28], and, a few moments
before, a great alarm was excited by a cry from the heaps of wounded,
that the French were descending into the ditch. To exaggerate the
picture of this sanguinary strife is impossible:—the small groups
of soldiers seeking shelter from the cart-wheels, pieces of timber,
fire-balls, and other missiles hurled down upon them; the wounded
crawling past the fire-balls, many of them scorched and perfectly
black, and covered with mud, from having fallen into the _lunette_,
where three hundred soldiers were suffocated or drowned; and all this
time the French on the top of the parapets, jeering and cracking their
jokes, and deliberately picking off whom they chose. The troops lining
the glacis could not fire sufficiently, as they were terribly exposed,
and could scarcely live from the cross fire of grape-shot.
Colonel Barnard[29] did all in his power to concentrate the different
attacks. It was in vain; the difficulties were too great. But Badajoz
was not the grave of the light division's valour, nor of the fourth
division's either.
Philippon, the governor, a _Frenchman_, and our enemy, gave the full
particulars of this affair to a friend of mine, while travelling
in England; he said that he thought the great explosion would have
finished the business, but he was astonished at the resolution of the
British troops, who, he said, were fine fellows, and deserved a better
fate.
The single musket-shot, fired just as the "forlorn hope" descended the
ditch, was a signal of their approach, which shows how determined the
French were to have a good blow-up, for not a ball was fired before
the explosion. The efforts of the garrison to preserve the place did
them much honour. Philippon was determined not to do as the governor
of Ciudad Rodrigo had done. Had not the Earl of Wellington planned the
two extreme attacks by escalade, on the castle, by the third division,
and on the south side of the town by part of the fifth division, and on
the Fort Pardalaras by the Portuguese, the result might have been very
serious. The Duke of Dalmatia was within a few leagues, and opposite
Generals Hill[30] and Graham[31]. The Duke of Ragusa had pushed his
advanced dragoons as far as the Bridge of Boats at Villa Velha, and
at length got entangled in the labyrinths of Portugal. I have heard
and read of sitting down before a town, _opening trenches, blowing up
the counterscarp, and all according to rule; but this was a crisis_,
time was precious, added to which the Guadiana ran in our rear, and
the pontoon bridge had been carried away once during the siege, by the
swelling of the river.
When the French soldiers found that the town was falling by escalade
on the south side, and that the castle was lost to them, they made
an attempt to retake the latter by an old gate, leading towards the
town; that gate was pierced by their musketry in numberless places.
I never saw a target better covered with holes. The third division
had in return twice discharged a gun through it, which made two large
holes. An old handspike was placed under its breech to depress it,
and remained precisely in the same way three days afterwards. The
scaling-ladders were well placed, _five_ quite close together, against
an old round tower. Many slain soldiers had evidently been pushed from
off the parapet, and rolled nearly fifty yards down the hill; some lay
with heads battered to pieces, whilst others were doubled up, looking
scarcely human, and their broken limbs twisted in all directions.
The third division had been obliged to cross the broken bridge over
the small river Revellas, rank entire, (amidst a shower of grape-shot,
bullets, and bursting of shells,) and during the work of death to
drag the unwieldy ladders up a rugged hill, to plant them against the
walls: their first effort failed; many of the enemy then, contrary to
General Philippon's orders, evacuated the Castle, and went to assist
at the breaches. At this moment, Lieutenant-Colonel Ridge of the fifth
regiment called on an officer of his corps, "There, you mount one
ladder, and I will lead up the other. Come on Fifth, I am sure that you
will follow your commanding officer." _He was killed; but the place was
carried!_
Let us pause and reflect that this act of heroism was executed after a
long and fearful struggle, high walls and defeat staring them in the
face.
The third division then filled the castle, and there remained until day
light. On the south side of the town, General Walker's brigade of the
fifth division[32], hearing the rolling fire at the breaches, became
impatient, and, with a simultaneous rush, gained (by escalade) the
top of the walls, and even formed on the ramparts. On seeing a light,
the cry of a _mine_ was set up, and a short panic ensuing, the enemy
at the same time charging forward at a run with fixed bayonets and
shouting loudly, these troops were forced to give ground. An officer
informed me, that he had thrown himself over the ramparts to save the
colours of his corps, while nearly surrounded by French grenadiers.
This bold fellow had the choice of either being pinned to the wall, or
the risk of breaking his neck: he chose the latter. The rear regiment,
however, fortunately stood firm. Many of the enemy then precipitately
abandoned the town, accompanied by the Governor, crossed the bridge,
and shut themselves up in Fort St. Christoval, on the other side of the
Guadiana; and the next morning surrendered themselves prisoners of war.
This brigade continued to be _hotly_ engaged in the streets during the
_whole night_. Some even asserted, that many of the Spaniards fired
from their windows on our troops, and _held out lights_ to guide the
French; knowing that their property would fall a sacrifice, should the
town be taken.
The place was eventually completely sacked by our troops; every atom
of furniture broken; mattresses ripped open in search of treasure; and
one street literally strewed with articles, knee-deep. A convent was in
flames, and the poor nuns in dishabille, striving to burrow themselves
into some place of security; however, that was impossible; the town was
alive, and every house filled with mad soldiers, from the cellar to the
once solitary garret.
When I examined the three breaches by day, and witnessed the defences
the enemy had made for their protection, I was fully satisfied that
they were impregnable to men; and I do declare, most positively, that
I could not have surmounted the _chevaux-de-frise, even unopposed_, in
the day-time.
Some _talk_ that grappling-irons would have moved them. Who would,
who could have done it? thousands of warlike French soldiers standing
firmly up to the points, not giving an inch, and ready for the fight.
They fought in the streets to the last, and tried to retake the
castle—_Que voulez-vous?_
The _chevaux-de-frise_ were fixed after dark. Round-shot alone could
have destroyed these defences, which were all chained together, and
not made in a temporary manner, as most military men imagine, but
strong and well finished; and the enemy, behind all, had made a deep
cut, over which they had thrown planks, communicating with the town,
besides three field-pieces to enfilade the centre breach, if the
_chevaux-de-frise_ should be seriously shaken. Had it not been for
this, the divisions would have entered like a swarm of bees.
_One man only_ was at the top of the left breach (the heaps of
dead had, as a matter of course, rolled to the bottom), and that
was one of the rifle corps who had succeeded in getting under the
_chevaux-de-frise_. His head was battered to pieces, and his arms and
shoulders torn asunder with bayonet wounds.
Our batteries did not play on the ramparts that night after dark; but
when the explosion took place, the whole of them opened with _blank
cartridge_ in our rear—probably to frighten the enemy, or to make them
keep down; but they were old soldiers, and not to be so done.
Poor M'Leod, in his 27th year, was buried half a mile from the town,
on the south side, nearly opposite our camp, on the slope of a hill.
We did not like to take him to the miserable breach, where, from the
warmth of the weather, the dead soldiers had begun to turn, and their
blackened bodies had swollen enormously; we, therefore, laid him
amongst some young springing corn; and, with sorrowful hearts, six of
us (all that remained of the officers able to stand) saw him covered in
the earth. His cap, all muddy, was handed to me, I being without one,
with merely a handkerchief round my bruised head, one eye closed, and
also a slight wound in my leg.
The country was open. The dead, the dying, and the wounded were
scattered abroad; some in tents, others exposed to the sun by day,
and the heavy dew at night. With considerable difficulty, I found at
length my friend, Lieutenant Madden, lying in a tent with his trowsers
on and his shirt off, covered with blood, bandaged across the body to
support his broken shoulder, laid on his back, and unable to move. He
asked for his brother.—"Why does he not come to see me?" I turned my
head away; for his gallant young brother (a captain of the 52nd) was
amongst the slain!
Captain Merry, of the 52nd, was sitting on the ground sucking
an orange. He said, "How are you?—You see that _I_ am dying; a
mortification has ensued." A grape-shot had shattered his knee; and he
had told the doctor that he preferred death rather than to permit such
a _good leg_ to be amputated. Another officer had just breathed his
last between these two sufferers.
The camp became a wilderness, some of the tents being thrown down,
others vacant, and flapping in the wind, while the musketry still
rattled in the town, announcing the wild rejoicing of our troops.
[Footnote 18: Some Portuguese troops watched the right bank of the
river on the side of Portugal, but, during the latter end of the siege,
part of the fifth division under General Leith took that duty.]
[Footnote 19: I have often been told, from undoubted authority, that
this soldier was one of the first who entered the small breach at
Rodrigo, and whose Stentorian voice rose above the din of arms.]
[Footnote 20: He was mortally wounded at New Orleans, as Brigade-major,
while scrambling up the enemy's lines. His horse had been killed under
him. He was taken prisoner, and died raving mad from the agony of the
wound through his body.]
[Footnote 21: He was killed; and his twin-brother, of the 52nd light
infantry, fell two years after at St. Sebastian, also at the head of
twenty-five volunteers from that regiment.]
[Footnote 22: This was with the exception of the two regiments of
Portuguese Caçadores, who were left in reserve in the quarries; but
many of them afterwards came towards the breaches.]
[Footnote 23: He had also two unhealed body wounds open, which he had
received at Rodrigo, and one in the trenches at Badajoz a few days
before. He now commands the 52nd regiment.]
[Footnote 24: The right corner looking from the ramparts; but, as we
attacked, it was on the left.]
[Footnote 25: There was a trench three feet wide and four deep, cut
between the centre and left breach, which was choked up with the dead
and wounded.]
[Footnote 26: Now Lieut.-Colonel Shaw.]
[Footnote 27: The engineer officers suffered terribly in killed and
wounded during the siege, as they joined in all the desperate attacks.]
[Footnote 28: The fourth and light divisions retired at midnight from
the breaches; but many of the soldiers did not leave the ditch, being
unable to ascend the ladders owing to the heaps of dead and wounded.
The fourth division descended opposite the large breach by only two
ladders.]
[Footnote 29: Now General Sir A. Barnard.]
[Footnote 30: Now Lord Hill, commander-in-chief of the British army.]
[Footnote 31: Now Lord Lynedoch.]
[Footnote 32: The fifth division took the city of Badajoz, and the
third division the castle.]