at the battle of Lundy's Lane, where they arrived in the nick of time
to make up 2,800 British against 5,000 Americans. After a hard fight
the enemy was driven back, but they opened again with a devastating
fire of musketry and artillery, following it up with a most determined
charge. So desperate was their onslaught that the British guns were
captured, and immediately following on this, the Royal Scots performed
a deed which is underlined in history. They recaptured those guns, and
left the enemy bewildered. This was the closest fight imaginable. In
the thick of it, the opposing cannon almost spoke into each others'
mouths. So close they were, that neither side could say, "This is my
gun." In point of fact, in the heat of the moment a British limber
carried off an American gun, and an American a British gun. On that
field the contact between British and American was extremely close. In
these days it is just as close, but not exactly in the same fierce
spirit.
One of the foremost of the exploits of the Royal Scots was the defence
of Tangier against the Moors in 1678. In Port Henrietta some 160 of the
Royal Scots had been isolated. In order to facilitate their escape
their comrades in the town created a diversion by leading a general
attack. In the midst of this the Scots got as far as the first trench
surrounding the fort, but, at the outer one, which was 12 feet deep,
they came into close grips with the enemy. There it was sheer
knife-fighting, and many Royal Scots went to the bottom of the pit. One
hundred and twenty of them filled it full, and over that bridge of
silence forty survivors hewed their way through.
The last charge at Wepener is described in the History of the Boer War
as follows "The Royal Scots saw the Boers rushing and their warrior
hearts beat quick with joy. Shortly, like a man in a dream, their
Captain gave the word, 'Fix bayonets!' It was done in a trice. 'Ready!'
The men loaded their rifles. 'A volley, my lads, and then the steel!
Altogether--' The whistle blows, the flame flies along the parapet.
Then, over the stone wall, sprang the Royal Scots. Once they shouted,
once only. Then the slaying began.... Fifty thousand savage throats
swelled the battle chorus. Ever since the siege began the black
warriors had been gathered in their thousands on the heights, watching
with fascinated interest the struggle of the white men. Like the
spectators of a medieval tournament they had applauded the gallant
deeds of the combatants, and, as they saw the British soldiers holding
out day after day, night after night, against the assault of numerous
odds, they came to have a profound trust and confidence in the 'big
heart' of the Queen's soldiers. When, therefore, they saw the Royal
Scots launch themselves like a living bolt at five times their number,
they held their breath for a time, wondering what the end might be. But
when they saw the bloody bayonets of the 1st Foot scatter and utterly
destroy the hated Dutchman they opened their throats and yelled their
applause across the river."
* * * * *
THEIR BADGES, BATTLE HONOURS, ETC.
BADGES.--The Royal Cypher within the Collar of the Order of the
Thistle with the Badge appendant. In each of the four corners the
Thistle within the Circle and motto of the Order, ensigned with the
Imperial Crown.
BATTLE HONOURS.--The Sphinx, superscribed Egypt. Blenheim,
Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Louisburg, St. Lucia,
Egmont-op-Zee, Corunna, Busaco, Salamanca, Vittoria, St. Sebastian,
Nive, Peninsula, Niagara, Waterloo, Nagpore, Maheidpore, Ava, Alma,
Inkerman, Sevastopol, Taku Forts, Pekin, S. Africa 1889-1902.
UNIFORM.--Regular and Reserve Battns., scarlet with blue facings.
[This distinguished corps is the oldest regiment in the Army, hence
its nickname of Pontius Pilate's Body Guard. There is a tradition
that it represents the body of Scottish Archers who for centuries
formed the guard of the French kings. It fought under Gustavus
Adolphus, King of Sweden, in the Seven Years' War, and was
incorporated in the British Army in 1633. Since that date it has
seen service in every part of the globe.]
THE "FIGHTING FIFTH"
("THE SHINERS")
The "Fighting Fifth" (Northumberland Fusiliers) have a peculiar paradox
in their history. They were first raised in 1674 by Prince William of
Orange, the Dutchman, and, in the last Boer War, they were fighting
against the Dutch themselves. But even stranger things than that have
come to pass in these later days when we have good cause to call our
old allies our enemies, and our old enemies our allies.
The "Fighting Fifth" derived their regimental name, the Northumberland
Fusiliers, from Hugh, Earl Percy, afterwards Duke of Northumberland,
who commanded the regiment during the American War of Independence. For
their fighting in the seventeenth century Prince William assembled them
before the whole army, and publicly rewarded them for their services.
It must be remembered that there were still services to come, for, when
the Prince returned to England, fourteen years later, to deprive his
father-in-law of his throne, the "Fighting Fifth" had not forgotten his
kind offices. On this occasion they were regarded by the English with
pride and admiration. "Even the peasants," says Macaulay, "whispered to
one another as they marched by: 'There be our own lads; there be the
brave fellows who hurled back the French on the field of Seneffe!'"
The "Fighting Fifth" gained many laurels in Portugal and Spain, where,
on more than one occasion, they drove the enemy before them in utter
confusion. It is in this war that their fighting traditions are chiefly
founded.
At Ciudad Rodrigo it was the "Fighting Fifth" who stormed the approach.
Afterwards they fought their way with fusil and steel through
Salamanca, Nivelle, Vittoria, Orthes, and Toulouse, right up to Paris.
One of their greatest achievements was the successful defence of
Gibraltar, when the Spaniards made their first attempt to recover it.
Since that time there is scarce a page of fighting history up to the
time of the Napoleonic Wars that contains no deed of this bull-dog
regiment.
Their nickname is almost as old as their regiment. It was at the siege
of Maestricht in 1676, when the regiment was only two years old, that a
section of these men, only 200 strong, assaulted the Dauphin
bastion--an affair out of which, after the most sanguinary combat, no
more than fifty emerged. Yet maddened, rather than daunted, these
fifty, with some few reinforcements, made a further attack on the
bastion; and this time they took it, but only to meet with disaster.
The place was mined, and a terrible explosion killed a large number,
and covered others in wreckage. Many, however, emerged, and these
proceeded to hold the position.
The tale of how they entered Badajoz stirs the blood. The 2nd Battalion
led the storming party. Their way led over a narrow bridge. Here, under
a terrible fire, the foremost fell in heaps; but their comrades pressed
forward over their prostrate bodies, and planted ladders against the
beetling walls of the castle. For a time the "Fighting Fifth" suffered
heavily. Again and again the desperate attackers reached the summit of
the walls, only to be hurled back by the enemy. Here they swarmed up
like bees, to be swept down again by a raking fire; there, another
ladder broken, another overturned, with men everywhere falling and
climbing, climbing and falling. The chance of scaling those walls
seemed hopeless, and at length the Fifth paused, and looked at one
another. Then, at that psychological moment, the cheering of the enemy
above broke the spell. Their cheers were answered by a fierce shout
from our men, who rushed to the attack with a never-give-in
determination that finally gained the ramparts, and drove the garrison
out of the castle, out of the town, and into the distance, not without
great slaughter. It was at Badajoz that the Fifth lost their brave
colonel, who struck in at that psychological moment, and led the final
victorious onslaught. He fell, shot through the heart, at the very
moment that victory was assured. "None that night," says Napier, "died
with more glory; yet many died, and there was much glory." The taking
of Badajoz was indeed a piece of work which required all the dogged
tenacity of purpose to be found in such fearless heroes as the
"Fighting Fifth."
* * * * *
THEIR BADGES AND BATTLE HONOURS, ETC.
BADGES.--St. George and the Dragon. In each of the four corners the
united Red and White Rose slipped, ensigned with the Royal Crest.
MOTTO.--"Quo fata vocant."
BATTLE HONOURS.--Wilhelmsthal, Roleia, Vimiera, Corunna, Busaco,
Cuidad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vittoria, Nivelle, Orthes,
Toulouse, Peninsula, Lucknow, Afghanistan 1878-80, Khartoum, S.
Africa 1899-1902, Modder River.
UNIFORM.--Regular and Reserve Battns., scarlet with gosling-green
facings.
THE LIVERPOOL REGIMENT
("THE LEATHER HATS")
The Liverpool Regiment, like the 5th Dragoon Guards, was raised to help
James, and, like them, it sided with the right against him. When James
tried to place Roman Catholic officers over English regiments, with the
help of the Liverpool Regiment, the colonel and five officers strongly
objected. James sent his son, Fitzjames, Duke of Berwick, to
Portsmouth, to correct them; but on this, and the issue of it, the
country rose, saying unanimously that James was wrong, and the "six
Portsmouth captains" were right. James had to flee from a country which
entertained ideas so strange to his way of thinking. In memory of this
protest against oppression, the portraits of those "six Portsmouth
captains" are preserved to this day by the regiment. Once having
definitely seceded, the Liverpool Regiment went further in the defence
of liberty, and fought fiercely at the Boyne.
But it was in the Netherlands that the "Leather Hats" performed their
first great feat of valour. Lord Cutts, whom they dubbed "The
Salamander"--because, where the fire was hottest, there was Cutts to be
found--ordered them, against all sane strategy, to storm the fortress
of Venloo. Everyone said it was impossible to take it, but the
Liverpool Regiment, who were actually facing the matter, got a
different view into their heads. They said nothing, but obeyed
commands--and took it. "Over bastion, fausse, bray and raveline," says
a graphic chronicler, "over trench, glacis and escarpment, Cutts led
his dare-devils; the ditches were heaped with the dead, till the living
walked over them, and--the enemy ran upon the farther side." It was a
magnificent feat of arms, and a fitting preface to Blenheim, Dettingen,
Lucknow, and their glorious deeds at the front to-day.
* * * * *
THEIR BADGES AND BATTLE HONOURS, ETC.
BADGE.--The White Horse within the Garter. In each of the four
corners the Royal Cypher.
MOTTO.--"Nec aspera terrent."
BATTLE HONOURS.--The Sphinx, superscribed Egypt. Blenheim,
Ramillies, Oudenarde, Malplaquet, Dettingen, Martinique, Niagara,
Delhi, Lucknow, Peiwar Kotal, Afghanistan 1878-80, Burma 1885-87,
S. Africa 1899-1902, Defence of Ladysmith.
UNIFORM.--Regular and Reserve Battns., scarlet with blue facings.
THE NORFOLKS
("THE HOLY BOYS")
"Our country will, I believe, sooner forgive an officer for
attacking his enemy, than for omitting to do it....
"A Norfolk man is as good as two others."--_Nelson._
Of the Norfolk Regiment, then known as the 9th (East Norfolk) Regiment,
Napier said, with a happy mixture of blame and praise: "They were
guilty of a fierce neglect of orders in taking a path leading
immediately to the enemy." Indeed, that is exactly what they did at the
battle of Roliça on the 17th August, 1808. Their intrepidity and fine
carelessness in regard to their lives were on that day the subject of
unstinted praise on the part of the whole French army, who, in those
times it must be remembered, were our enemies. A brief description of
the battle will show the stern stuff that the Norfolks are made of.
The enemy, under Laborde, held a very strong position, and it was
Wellington's object to drive them from it at the earliest opportunity.
The Norfolks, under Brigadier Nightingale, came up with Wellington's
army from Obidos, three columns strong. The 9th occupied the position
in the centre, which fronted the enemy in possession of a natural
fortress of gigantic crags, looming steep and forbidding against the
sky. The only way of ascent was by means of some zigzag tracks, which,
at many points, were open to the enemy's fire.
Under these conditions, it would have been possible for our men to
proceed by halt and rush, with a slow but sure caution; but the
Norfolks, flinging all caution to the winds, hurled themselves forward
to get at the enemy as quickly as possible. They swarmed up the
heights, giving the foe a hot example of their musketry fire as they
swung forward. It is said that their exploit was in full view of both
armies as the smoke of their firing marked their passage from crag to
crag. The rapidity of their advance was so great that the other
regiments of the central column were left far behind. Laborde, taking
advantage of their prominent position, proceeded to throw the greater
part of his army against them, thinking to wipe them out before they
could receive support. This was partially successful, for the enemy's
fierce onslaught bore the 2nd battalion back. Fiercely; the Norfolks
contested every inch of the way, and it was a wonder of wonders that
they lost so little ground against overwhelming odds before the 1st
battalion came to their assistance. Then, with scarce a breathing
space, they re-formed their ranks, and, with a hearty British cheer,
swept forward and upward again.
That heroic and dashing encounter, in which the battle was to the
swift--for it will be remembered that they had outstripped the rest of
the army--is one that can never be forgotten in the annals of our
history. Slowly, point by point, they gained the advantage, and finally
drove the enemy from the summit. But, having taken the position, they
had to hold it again and again against the furious efforts of the enemy
to dislodge them. The reckless dash of their ascent could only be
equalled by the stubborn resistance with which they held on, and, time
after time, Laborde's battalions were driven back. Finally, the
Northumberland Fusiliers came to their assistance, and the enemy was
forced to retire. This was a victory set upon a hill, and, in the same
spirit in which it was witnessed that day by thousands of opposing
forces, so it is for ever pictured in our minds. With the battle of
Roliça in their traditions, the Norfolk Regiment, as we write, are no
doubt adding to the list of their brilliant achievements.
In this battle a memorable act of heroism glorifies a page of
history--a page written in the Norfolk blood of Sergeant-Major
Richards. At the time when our skirmishers advanced rapidly, and the
echo of their quick musketry fire hung reverberating in the ravine and
hollow as they ran from cover to cover, two companies crept up two
separate passes among the rocks and debouched upon the summit of the
ridge. The foremost of the 9th, on emerging two or three at a time from
their narrow passage, were ambushed by the enemy. Blake, their brave
Colonel, was killed, and many of his men fell around him. When the
ambuscade rushed forth to grips, Sergeant-Major Richards, though
riddled with lead, and bleeding from a dozen bayonet wounds, stood over
his beloved commander and fought to the death. This brave fellow, than
whom there was never a braver, said, as he was dying, "I should not
have cared so much if only our Colonel had been spared." In those few
words, at such a moment, breathed the true spirit of the Norfolks, and
that glorious simplicity of thought and singleness of eye--fine, grand,
unconsciously sublime--runs through every line of our great Book of
Battles. We are not glad that our enemy of to-day has not written such
a book, nor do we trouble to wish he had: the fact is fixed that he has
not. Indeed, he had never the material for such a book, for it is
obvious that the same barbarous hand that struck out an innocent
Louvain could not insert such an anachronism as the heroic death and
noble sentiment of a Sergeant-Major Richards of the Norfolks.
But Roliça, although the most prominent of their honours, is only one
among many that have been set to their credit. They have more than once
been in a position of extreme peril. When Ruffin's brigade at Barrosa
realised that the Norfolks were cut off through an error on the part of
our Spanish Allies, they turned the whole fury of their overwhelming
odds upon that single regiment. Then it was a case of fighting, and
dying, back to back. All fought like heroes, and, like heroes, most of
them died. It was only when Brigadier Dilkes came to their assistance
that the few survivors were extricated from their hazardous position.
Needless to say, the handful that remained joined at once with Dilkes'
column, and assaulted the enemy's heights. A grim battle ensued, and at
length a brilliant victory was gained.
In the history of the Norfolks is written one of the saddest incidents
in the annals of our arms. It was they who, at Corunna, at dead of
night, buried Sir John Moore, under the shadow of disaster--a sorrowful
ending to an adverse passage which, although it concealed a marvellous
achievement, few of us care to linger upon in days when victory is
before us, and all thoughts of defeat forgotten.
At Fuentes d'Onoro, a description of which battle will be found in
another chapter, the Norfolks, in company with many other regiments of
our present expeditionary force, fought with all their customary vim;
and at Salamanca their assault on the enemy was as if they had been let
go from a catapult. At a time when they were fully 500 yards in front
of our main body of troops, Wellington saw the chance of making use of
them to capture a particular post held by the enemy. He sent his
aide-de-camp scouring up to them with the hurried message: "Ninth! you
are the only regiment ready; advance!" They required no further
indication to grasp what was to be done; in fact, they would probably
have done it in the natural course of events, without the order; they
charged on, and at the point of the irresistible bayonet the post was
taken.
Many a forlorn hope has been led by the Norfolks. One that remains
indelibly stamped on our memory is that at San Sebastian, headed by a
Scots lad, named Campbell. This poor fellow was terribly wounded in the
first onslaught, receiving a bayonet thrust, and a heavy sabre gash.
The young hero was not to die of his wounds however. Very much on the
contrary, he lived to become Sir Colin Campbell, Commander-in-Chief in
India; and, for his splendid services in suppressing the Indian Mutiny
was created Baron Clyde.
Having come through many terrible fights with honour and glory, and
without a stain, it is naturally the great regret of this famous
regiment that they were not at present at Waterloo. But, though absent
from our greatest field of victory, they were doing good work at the
time in Canada. Yet it has come to their share in these days to reap
honours in fields not far from Waterloo, and we live to learn that, in
the deeds of to-day, and to-morrow, a Norfolk man is indeed as good as
at least two Germans.
* * * * *
THEIR BADGE AND BATTLE HONOURS, ETC.
BADGE.--The figure of Britannia.
BATTLE HONOURS.--Roliça, Vimiera, Corunna, Busaco, Salamanca,
Vittoria, St. Sebastian, Nive, Peninsula, Cabool 1842, Moodkee,
Ferozeshah, Sobraon, Sevastopol, Kabul 1879, Afghanistan 1870-80,
S. Africa 1900-02, Paardeberg.
HEROES OF PERTHSHIRE--Regular and Reserve Battns., scarlet with
yellow facings.
[Raised in 1685. Received the title "East Norfolk Regiment" in
1782, and became the Norfolk Regiment in 1881. The badge of the
figure of Britannia was bestowed on the regiment in recognition of
its gallantry at the battle of Almanza (1707). This regiment was
the last of the British forces to embark at Corunna (1809), and was
entrusted with the burial of Sir John Moore, in memory of which
event the officers of the regiment wear a black line in their lace.]
THE BLACK WATCH (ROYAL HIGHLANDERS)
("HEROES OF PERTHSHIRE")
"We are but few, but of the right sort."--_Nelson._
"Highlanders, remember Egypt!"--_Sir John Moore at Corunna._
These men need a book to themselves. It is impossible here to give more
than a short account of one or two of their most brilliant fights, but,
as from the peck you may judge of the barrel, so one will find the
invincible temper of the Black Watch in every line and every word.
It was at Fontenoy that the Black Watch first met a foreign foe, and
their dealings with that foe were an emphatic earnest of their future
honours. The fortune of war was not on their side; they were forced to
retreat, covering it in such perfect order that Lord Crawford waved his
hat to them, with the well-remembered approval that they had achieved
as great honour as if they had gained an actual victory.
The Black Watch have acquired great reputation in America. They
distinguished themselves notably at Bushey Run, and it was in the War
of Independence that they contributed their severest and most difficult
work. A chronicler of the doings of this regiment writes on this
passage in their history: "In every field the Black Watch maintained
their hardly earned reputation," and many are the recorded deeds of
individual courage and readiness. Here is one instance by the same
chronicler:
"In a skirmish with the Americans in 1776, Major Murray, of the
42nd, being separated from his men, was attacked by three of the
enemy. His dirk slipped behind his back, and, being a big stout
man, he could not reach it, but defended himself as well as he
could with his fusil, and, watching his opportunity, seized the
sword of one of his assailants, and put the three to flight."
The battle of Alexandria was perhaps one of the most brilliant in the
whole career of the Black Watch. At a time when the two wings of their
regiment stood some 200 yards apart, the Invincibles of France, valiant
fighters, forced their way between, with one six-pounder. As soon as
the Highlanders found that they had been, in a sense, caught napping, a
roar of wrath rose from their ranks, and swiftly their right wing swung
down on the interloping French, broke their ranks and captured their
gun. The left wing, facing the other way, wheeled swiftly, and fell
like mountain cats on the French rear. The enemy, who had thought to
split the 42nd to some purpose, were thus themselves caught in a death
trap. The Invincibles rushed helter-skelter for cover in the ruins near
by, and after them, terrible in pursuit, went the Black Watch. The
plaided ranks drew together, and charged again and again with fixed
bayonets, while the pursued fled before those gleaming points until
they were brought to bay in a position where they were forced to turn
and fight. It was a brave and memorable fight then on both sides. The
courage of despair was on the enemy's side, and the cool, relentless
courage of the Caledonians was on ours. But in the end the enemy,
having lost 700 of their men, were forced to yield.
This temporary victory, however, afforded no respite for the Black
Watch. Hot upon the action came a strong column of French infantry
swiftly advancing, and it was a matter of the utmost importance that
they should be attacked at once. The Black Watch, dishevelled as they
were, their great chests still heaving with their exertions, were flung
forward by Sir Ralph Abercromby, who, in the urgency of the critical
moment, himself hallooed them on.
It was a quick passage. After a clashing impact, the Black Watch broke
the French column and scattered it in flight. Seeing the Highlanders
eagerly pursuing, and in danger of being cut off by three squadrons of
cavalry, General Moore ordered the pursuers to retire. It appears that,
in the crash and roar of the battle, this order was lost upon the
foremost pursuers, who were dealing death right and left, and they were
not aware of what threatened until the French cavalry was thundering
down upon them. It was so sudden that the Highlanders had barely time
to retrieve their scattered state, and rally back to back. Thus,
raising their fierce northern battle-cry, they fought against fearful
odds, a small body of men surrounded on every hand. But even from this
they emerged victorious, routing the very flower of the French cavalry.
So it was that in one day this regiment won three brilliant victories,
each one of which had seemed at first almost a forlorn hope.