determined men; then they broke and fled, showing their backs as
targets for the Highlanders, who scattered the passage of their retreat
thickly with their dead bodies. In this action many prisoners were
taken.
The British troops, though in the minority in guns, as well as men,
stood like a rock against the searching assaults of the enemy. Ebb and
flow was the order of battle, until at last the flow of our indomitable
troops gained ground, and the enemy finally ebbed away.
Our last victory in that furious battle was gained foot by foot, and
when, in the end, the day was won, and the stars looked down upon
10,000 slain, the piper of the Gordon Highlanders took his stand in
front of the village of Quatre Bras to call the Highlanders in. "Loud
and long blew Cameron," says one who heard that call of the highland
mountain and the glen, "but his efforts could not gather above half of
those whom his music had cheered on their march to the battlefield."
Our Gordons had been through the thick of the fight; at the close of
the day they were terribly hungry, and with the cool sang-froid which
is the necessary complement to the bravery of such men, they took their
supper cooked and served in the cuirasses which had shone in the
enemy's forefront of battle some hours before.
Various writers tell of the extreme kindness received by the Gordons
after the battle from the inhabitants of Brussels and Antwerp. The
"good and brave Scots" came in on drays and wagons, apparently none the
worse for the fierce encounter, saving merely the loss of a leg, or an
arm or two. "We're a' wantin' a leg or a' airm," cried one from the
midst of a wagon-load of wounded, as if it were a kind of fraternal
greeting. The good folk, seeing their plight, and not understanding the
language, brought them wine in abundance, but the Highlanders did not
understand the colour of it, and called for "guid sma' ale" as the next
best thing to their own "white wine of the north."
Tales of suffering in those days cannot vie in magnitude with the tales
of to-day, but it is interesting to note that the endurance and
patience of the Highlanders, as they lay on the wagons, or came in on
foot, fainting with weariness and loss of blood, called forth the
remark, as they passed through the street, "the men of your country
must be made of iron."
It remains to touch on the Highlanders' own account of this battle. It
was simple and unpretentious in the extreme. One who had been severely
wounded, and was lying on the paving stones, waiting to be attended to,
was accosted by an English resident. "How you and your comrades
fought!" he said. "Your bravery will be the talk of the world. There is
no doubt, as the people here say, you and your countrymen are made of
iron." "Hoots, man," replied the Highlander, "need ye mak' sic a din
aboot the like o' that? What did we gang oot for but to fecht?"
It goes without saying that false reports of any considerable
engagement were spread through the countryside, even in those days. A
chronicler states that Mercer, when making his way to the scene of
action, happened on a Gordon Highlander, toiling painfully along the
road, badly wounded in the knee. "Halt!" cried Mercer. "Have you any
information? The Belgians tell me that our army has been forced to
retreat." "Na, na," replied the Scot; "it's a damned lee! When I cam'
awa' they were fechtin', an' they're aye fechtin' yet." With that, he
sat down on the roadside and calmly lit his pipe, while a prentice
surgeon probed for the bullet in his knee.
Another incident preserved in the records of the Gordons is related by
a Scotch lady who resided at that time in Antwerp. She had heard
reports of a retreat from Quatre Bras, and other mis-statements
concerning Mont St. Jean had also reached her ears, all to the effect
that the British had suffered severe defeat; that Wellington was
dangerously wounded, and that all of any account in our army were
either killed or taken prisoners. Moreover, thousands of French troops
had entered Brussels, and that on the heels of death and destruction
came panic and dismay. Needless to say, this was not true, except in
one point only--that 2,000 French _had_ entered Brussels; but it
was in the rôle of prisoners, not victors! On the following day the
Scotch lady went out in search of news, and was met by a long
procession of vehicles laden with the wounded. Not a word of victory
could she get on any hand, until she observed, in the very last wagon,
a group of Gordon Highlanders, badly wounded, and heavily bandaged.
They evidently knew something, for they were throwing their bonnets in
the air, and shouting: "Bony's beat! Hurrah for Bonnie Scotland! Hurrah
for Merrie England! Bony's beat!" Recognizing the Highland spirit, the
lady sought to learn the cause of their excitement, and they told her,
between their wild cries of joy, that a rider had just sped by,
bringing the glad news of victory.
It was not easy for the people of Brussels to gather the real import of
this news either from the lady or the Highlanders, but it began to
spread about, in what to them was an unknown tongue, though forcible in
vociferation, that "Bony was beat and runnin' awa' to his ain country
just as fast as he could gang." Yet there was no explaining it to them,
and it was in vain that a brawny, bearded Highlander took a Belgian
woman to task with the words, "Canna ye hear, ye auld witch? Are ye
deaf? Bony's beat, I tell ye! I tell ye, Bony's beat, wumman!" It was
no good! But the full significance of the fact was soon made known in
the city, and then there was wild rejoicing on every hand.
In those times the Belgian people conceived and fostered a great love
for the Gordon Highlanders, and no doubt the tradition has been handed
down to this day that they are the best of soldiers, sweet and gentle
in peace, and terrible in war.
The part played by the Gordons in the repulse of the Boer attack on
Ladysmith, January 6th, 1900, is never to be forgotten. It was here
that Lieutenant Colonel Dick-Cunyngham, V.C., fell at the head of his
men. It was during the Afghan campaign that this hero of the Gordons
received his V.C., when they were fighting outside Kabul in 1879.
Staggered for a moment by a terrific onslaught on the part of the
Afghans, the Gordons, their leading officer and colour-sergeant being
killed, seemed to hesitate, when Dick-Cunyngham sprang forward, and, by
his remarkable coolness and gallantry, saved the situation.
In later days, the Gordon Highlanders have maintained and even added to
the reputation thus bravely won. One signal instance is found in their
attacks on the Dargai heights. On October 18th, 1897, the Gordons
formed part of the flanking movement under Brigadier-General Kempster.
The heights were won, but were shortly re-occupied by the enemy. On the
following day, a second battle was joined about this position. Under
Sir William Lockhart the Gordons displayed their usual fighting power.
In the "Broad Arrow" of February, 18th, 1898, Sir William Lockhart
himself described the part they played:
"The Gordon Highlanders went straight up the hill without check or
hesitation. Headed by their pipers, and led by Colonel Mathias,
with Major Macbean on his right, and Lieutenant A. F. Gordon on his
left, this splendid battalion marched across the open. It dashed
through a murderous fire, and in forty minutes had won the heights,
leaving three officers and thirty men killed or wounded on its way.
The first rush of the Highlanders was deserving of the highest
praise, for they had just undergone a very severe climb, and had
reached a point beyond which other troops had been unable to
advance for over three hours. The first rush was followed at short
intervals by a second and a third, each led by officers; and, as
the leading companies went up the path for the final assault, the
remainder of the troops streamed on in support, but few of the
enemy waited for the bayonet, many of them being shot down as they
fled in confusion."
Supremely heroic on a point of romantic sentiment is our Gordon
Highlander. When Cameron fell at Quatre Bras, he was not only mortally
wounded, but pinned down by his horse. In this helpless condition he
was recognised by one of the enemy, who swiftly rushed forward to
bayonet him. But swifter still came the cold steel of Ewen Macmillan
(the Colonel's foster brother) and pierced the would-be murderer to the
heart. Ewen extricated his leader and bore him off; then, his master
safe, he turned back with the set purpose of securing the saddle on
which he had sat through many a victorious battle. In the thick of the
fight the imperturbable Scot, amid a hail of bullets, secured that
saddle and returned safely with it to his company, exhibiting it with a
fine mingling of triumph and regret. "We must leave them the carcase,"
he said, "but they shan't get the saddle where Fassiefern sat." That
was what he had risked his life a thousand times a minute for--the
saddle where Fassiefern had sat!
And not only in stirring deeds of deathless glory have the Gordon
Highlanders shone in the starry sky of Britain's fame. In the course of
their long career they have been called upon to suffer and endure tests
of hardship and privation, which prove the true mettle of the British
soldier. They have played many parts in the theatre of war where the
limelight did not fall. It was even their fate to take part in the
terrible retreat to Bremen. Mr. W. Richards gives a grim description of
some of these hardships:
"The high, keen wind carried the drifted snow and sand with such
violence that the human frame could scarcely resist its power; the
cold was intense; the water, which collected in the hollow eyes of
the men, congealed as it fell, and hung in icicles from their
eyelashes; the breath froze, and hung in icy incrustations about
their haggard faces, and on the blankets and coats which they
wrapped about them."
But, with the Gordons, the hardy spirit in which they weathered all
this was only a modification of that which carried them into their most
glorious triumphs on the field of battle. Speaking of hardships and
remembering the strong spirit of camaraderie which has always existed
between our soldiers of all regiments, we cannot help reminding the
Gordons that their 2nd Battalion owes the Coldstreamers one ration. It
happened in this way. When the Gordons arrived at Fuentes d'Onoro both
officers and men were literally starving, owing to a faulty
commissariat; and no sooner did the Guards get wind of this than they
volunteered a ration of biscuits, from their haversacks. Now, as the
Coldstreamers will not be able to get those biscuits from the enemy,
who appears to have "embarked without them," they may require them
again from the Gordons and they should insist on having them well
buttered.
* * * * *
THEIR BADGES AND BATTLE HONOURS, ETC.
BADGES.--The Sphinx, superscribed Egypt. The Royal Tiger,
superscribed India.
BATTLE HONOURS.--Mysore, Seringapatam, Egmont-op-Zee, Mandora,
Corunna, Fuentes d'Onoro, Almaraz, Vittoria, Pyrenees, Nive,
Orthes, Peninsula, Waterloo, S. Africa 1835, Delhi, Lucknow,
Charasiah, Kabul 1879, Kandahar 1880, Afghanistan 1878-80, Egypt
1882-84, Tel-el-Kebir, Nile 1884-85, Chitral, Tirah, S. Africa
1889-1902, Paardeberg, Defence of Ladysmith.
UNIFORM.--Regular and Reserve Battns., scarlet with yellow facings.
[To the first regiment (the 89th), raised in 1759, there belong the
romances of two notable men. One was the Duke's brother, Lord
William, who afterwards ran away with Lady Sarah Bunbury, and the
other was Lord George, the future rioter. A further romance belongs
to the Gordons proper. When, in 1794, the 4th D. of G. was
commissioned to raise a regiment for the King, with the Duke's son,
Lord Huntly, as its colonel, his wife Jane, "the Bonnie Duchess,"
acted as her son's recruiting sergeant. Day after day she rode in
among them at their gatherings, and with the King's shilling
between her teeth, kissed them into the army. "Now, lads; whose for
a soldier's life--and a kiss o' the Duchess Jean?" Her ambition for
her son in the way of masculine counterpoise to the brilliant
alliances of her daughters does not matter so much as that the
Gordons sprang into being at the touch of her lips--which is a
legend greatly treasured among Highlanders.]
[Illustration: THE CONNAUGHT RANGERS AT BADAJOZ.
_From a Painting by R. Caton Woodville._]
THE CONNAUGHT RANGERS
("THE GARVIES")
"Rangers of Connaught, the eyes of all Ireland are on you this day.
On then, and at them, and if you do not give them the soundest
thrashing they have ever got in their lives, you needn't look me in
the face again in this world or the next."--_Colonel-in-Command
at the Front._
Towards the close of the Transvaal War the 2nd Battalion of the
Connaught Rangers performed a heroic feat, which tended to mitigate the
peace-with-little-honour feeling which marked the peace negotiations of
1879.
Lydenberg was garrisoned by some seventy men, fifty-three of whom were
Connaught Rangers, the whole being under the command of Lieut. Long, a
mere stripling lad of twenty-two. Soon after Brunker's Spruit the Boers
called upon Lydenberg to surrender, thinking that the lad of twenty-two
would do as he was told like an obedient boy. But they soon found that
they were mistaken. Long wisely temporised, and made use of a few days
thus gained to strengthen his defences. Soon came the Boers' second
demand of surrender, and this time it was scornfully flung back. So, on
the 6th January, the Boers' bombarded the place, but the little
garrison held out, and, for twelve weeks, the forces of siege,
sickness, hunger and thirst failed to break the spirit of the gallant
band. Then, when peace was declared, the 94th had no cause to feel
ashamed, for in their hands Lydenberg had never surrendered. The
British flag still fluttered above it. Worn and exhausted by terrible
hardships and privations, but _still unconquered_, the survivors
came forth in peace.
* * * * *
THEIR BADGES AND BATTLE HONOURS, ETC.
BADGES.--The Harp and Crown. The Elephant. The Sphinx, superscribed
Egypt.
MOTTO.--"Quis Separabit."
BATTLE HONOURS.--Seringapatam, Talavera, Busaco, Fuentes d'Onoro,
Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vittoria, Nivelle, Orthes,
Toulouse, Peninsula, Alma, Inkerman, Sevastopol, Central India, S.
Africa 1877-79, 1899-1902, Relief of Ladysmith.
UNIFORM.--Regular and Reserve Battns., scarlet with green facings.
[Raised in 1793 in Connaught. Both Battns. gained undying fame in
the Peninsula War, the regiment having the honour of forming the
forlorn hope at the storming of both Badajoz and Ciudad Rodrigo.
The regiment also fought with distinction in the Crimea and the
Indian Mutiny. During the Boer War of 1899 the 1st Battn. formed
part of the famous Irish Brigade in Natal, and in 1901 it became a
battn. of mounted infantry.]
THE ARGYLL AND SUTHERLAND HIGHLANDERS
("THE THIN RED LINE")
"Wherever they have lived and fought they have carried with them
the fearless picturesqueness of their indomitable mountains."
At Sevastopol, as at few other battles in the history of wars, was
displayed the most magnificent valour of the Highlander. The approaches
to Balaclava were protected by six batteries manned by Turks, who, it
will be remembered, were in those days our allies. On October 25th,
1854, the Russians made a determined attack on these redoubts, speedily
captured three of the batteries, and at once turned them on the 93rd
Highlanders, under Sir Colin Campbell, compelling them to seek cover
behind a slight ridge. No sooner had they done so than a horde of
Russian cavalry swept down upon them, whereat Sir Colin ordered his men
to breast the ridge and hold it against them at all costs. "Men," he
said, "there is no retreat from here; you must die where you stand."
"Ay, ay, Sir Colin," was the cool response, "and we'll do that if needs
be."
The men were only two or three deep, but that "thin red line,"
bristling with steel, was none the less formidable for that. Every
heart was staunch and every hand was steady. Nearer and nearer came the
rolling thunder of the Russian cavalry, quickening as it came. They
were now at 600 yards. "Fire!" the order was given, and the lead went
forth, but the Russians, though galled, still came on. At 200 yards a
second volley rang out, and this time the enemy wavered and could only
be rallied by the remarkable determination of their officers. Their
swerve was headed into a flank attack, but the Highlanders stood firm
as their native rocks, and met their last onrush with volley on volley.
"Then had you seen a gallant shock
When saddles were emptied and lances broke."
The enemy, now in confusion, looked at the cold steel awaiting them,
turned in dismay and fled in disorder to the shelter of their own guns.
The 93rd were also at Lucknow, and the way they came to the rescue of
the hard-pressed garrison of that city makes a thrilling episode.
Well known is the story of Jessie, the Scotch nurse, who was within the
fortifications of Lucknow when the final grip of despair was closing on
the beleaguered garrison. Sitting musing on the hope of death as
against the horrors of surrender, she suddenly raised her head and
listened. Was she dreaming of the hills and glens of her native land,
which she might never see again, or was that the sound of the pibrochs
floating on the breeze from far away? She started up, declaring that
she heard the wild music of her own country drawing nearer and nearer
out of the distance. Others listened, but could hear nothing, and
thought that Jessie was fey. But the simple-living Scotch folk are
renowned for their second sight and clairaudience, and the event proved
that Jessie was right; for at that moment, though far beyond the range
of physical hearing, the Highlanders, under Sir Colin Campbell, were
marching swiftly towards Lucknow, with Cameron striding at their head,
blowing his loudest.
[Illustration: THE ARGYLL AND SUTHERLAND HIGHLANDERS AT BALACLAVA.
_From a Painting by R. Caton Woodville._]
When they arrived at the city they made no pause, but swept down on the
dastardly foe with irresistible force, while the bagpipes screamed and
the men cheered wildly. Then ensued a running fight lasting some hours,
after which post after post was seized and occupied until finally the
siege was raised, and Sir Colin Campbell and Sir Henry Havelock met
within the city and shook hands on a glorious relief.
* * * * *
THEIR BADGES, BATTLE HONOURS, ETC.
BADGES.--A Boar's Head within a wreath of myrtle. A Cat within a
wreath of broom, all over the label as represented in the arms of
the Princess Louise, and surmounted with H.R.H.'s coronet. In each
of the four corners the Princess Louise Cypher and Coronet.
MOTTOES.--"Ne obliviscaris." "Sans peur."
BATTLE HONOURS.--Cape of Good Hope 1806, Rolica, Vimiera, Coronna,
Pyrenees, Nivelle, Nive, Orthes, Toulouse, Peninsula, Alma,
Balaclava, Sevastopol, Lucknow, S. Africa 1846-47, 1851-53, 1879,
1899-1902, Modder River, Paardeberg.
UNIFORM.--Regular and Reserve Battns., scarlet with yellow facings.
[1st Battn. (Argyllshire Highlanders): raised in 1794 by the Duke
of Argyll. 2nd Battn. (Sutherland Highlanders): raised by the Duke
of Sutherland in 1800. The 1st Battn. formed the bulk of the heroes
of the wreck of the _Birkenhead_. The 2nd Battn. were the
celebrated "thin red line" at Balaclava. The regiment won great
distinction during the Indian Mutiny. It formed part of General
Wauchope's force at Magersfontein (1899).]
THE DUBLIN FUSILIERS
("THE OLD TOUGHS")
The Dublin Fusiliers had a large share in writing the red history of
India. Their prestige has been drawn mainly from the East. Indeed,
although they have been in existence 246 years, they never set eyes on
the white cliffs of Dover until the other day, so to speak, in 1871. On
their colours stand the Royal Tiger of Bengal, and the Indian Elephant,
together with the honours--Plassey, Mysore, The Carnatic, Buxar, and
many others gained in India which are unknown to any other regiment. In
the conquest of India they were Clive's men, Warren Hastings' men, and
"their names are the names of the victories of England." It is scarcely
too much to say that Indian territory was made British by the Dublin
Fusiliers. The story of how India would have become part of the French
Empire but for the daring genius of an obscure youth and the
indomitable valour of the Dublin Fusiliers makes thrilling reading.
The French had laid siege to Trichinopoly, knowing that, with its fall,
fell India into their hands; but Clive, a young man of twenty-five
years, a born genius, without any further acquirement in the way of
special training, evolved as if by a heaven-sent inspiration--a sudden
plan--the consummate daring of which has not been equalled in the
history of any other nation. It was, in brief, to raise the siege of
Trichinopoly by dealing a sledge-hammer stroke upon Arcot, the capital
of the Carnatic--a city whose population was 100,000, and whose
garrison consisted of 1,100 trained men. Clive proposed to subdue this
strongly defended city with 200 Dublin Fusiliers and 300 Sepoys. This
unheard-of intention must have had something unseen and undreamt of
behind it, as the shadow of the coming event. The issue proved this.
With his handful of men, tuned to his own pitch of enthusiasm, he
marched boldly on Arcot during the night. He was not alone. His allies
were the elements. As he neared the gates of the city, they broke
loose. The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the rain
descended in torrents. In the midst of this, he and his little band
entered the city as if at the head of an unknown mighty army. These
men, who came attended by the artillery of the storm gods, by the
lightning's flash and search-light, seemed all too many for the
garrison. Terrified, they fled in tumult and disorder, and Clive by
this master-stroke, aided by That which has aided Britain many times in
a moment of daring extremity, seized Arcot, and held it.
But this master-stroke required confirmation before it was effective.
It yet remained for Clive, and his brave band to display the endurance
and patience necessary to hold what was won. The besiegers of
Trichinopoly gathered reinforcements, and beleaguered Arcot. Ten
thousand men enforced that place. In the course of days four officers,
nearly 100 Dublin Fusiliers and over 100 Sepoys were lost. Says an
eye-witness who describes the place, "The ramparts were too narrow to
admit the guns, the battlements too low to protect the soldiers." In
this siege, which lasted fifty days, elephants were used by the
besieging hosts. With the battering-rams slung between them, they were
pushed forward against the walls, but the "Dubs" sent such a fusilade
against them that the beasts turned tail, and trampled hundreds of the
enemy to death.
The little body of Dublin Fusiliers and Sepoys--it was the first, but
not the last time that Indian troops have fought bravely by our
side--held out, and finally the enemy, after a fierce attack, in which
they were worsted, retreated. Clive followed them up remorselessly. In
that pursuit Pondicherry and Tanjore were taken, and now, at Plassey,
were 100 British, and 2,000 Sepoys, who, in a decisive action, defeated
60,000 of the enemy under Surajah Dowlah. This superiority of a cause
which, reinforcing an inferiority of men, has proved, through thick
blood and thin, to be at the behest of civilisation, is not without its
far-off echo in the present day.
It needs to be added that the whole of the honours of the Dublin
Fusiliers, until "South Africa, 1899-1902," and "Relief of Ladysmith,"
were won by the Madras Fusiliers and Bombay Fusiliers (East India
Company's regiments). It was only in 1881 that they were given the name
"Royal Dublin Fusiliers," and as such, our English, Scotch and Welsh
have never a fault to find with them.