HOW THE BLACK WATCH WON THE RED HACKLE
(1795)
The sun rises bright in France
And fair sets he,
But he has lost the blithe blink he had
In my ain countrie.
Oh, gladness comes to many,
But sorrow comes to me,
As I look o’er the wide ocean
To my ain countrie.
_Old Highland Air._
It may appear that our last chapter, telling of an action in 1799, has
fallen out of place, but there are sufficient reasons why it should come
where it does. The trouble with Tippoo Sahib commenced very much sooner,
only reaching its climax at Seringapatam, while being at best but an
echo of the battle thunder in Europe.
We are now entering upon the first actions in what was to prove a long
and terrible war in Europe. For long England had fought France in
America and India. From now until 1815 the conflict was to rage ever
fiercer nearer home, to break out in Flanders, to spread to Egypt, to
drench the Peninsula in blood, and finally to return to the tragic
plains of Belgium.
It is important to understand the reasons for this new development.
In the annals of history the French Revolution, that wild outbreak
against oppression, stands alone. Coming so swiftly, sweeping from
anarchy to anarchy, from one excess to another, passing from bloodshed
to bloodshed, from civil war to international strife, from democracy to
tyranny, it stunned Europe into a stricken silence. Things were
happening which had never happened before. Not only in France, but in
many other countries the voice of the people was heard in no uncertain
way, while even in Scotland, that country of old causes, a poet, Robert
Burns by name, was voicing an altogether new sentiment. The future was
as dark and ominous then as it was on that fateful August night in 1914,
when, like wind hastening across a dark stretch of country, the word was
passed that England was at war with Germany.
Against the dark background of the French Revolution the conflict
between England and France had sunk into nothingness. Many are the tales
that depict the tragic story of the Reign of Terror, perhaps the most
frightful explosion of human anarchy in the history of the world.
Innumerable are the instances of heroism, courage, and sacrifice, that
have lit up that gloomy period. Were it not for actions so noble and
bravery so deathless such a story would be better left untold. Later on,
when we come to an equally tragic episode in the outbreak of the Indian
Mutiny, it will be seen how cruelty and death called forth as an
inspiration to Englishmen throughout eternity the greater and more
enduring qualities of self-sacrifice and patriotism. It was that spirit,
however tarnished, of tradition that carried the French nobility with
unbroken composure to the guillotine. It was this same tradition—but by
no means tarnished—that burned like a bright flame in the hearts of
Lawrence and John Nicholson. The horrors of war are in themselves of
little account when the years have passed. The thing that matters is the
spirit with which they are met and conquered.
In the troubles of the French people England desired to take no share
unless she was compelled to guard her own interests. The time came soon
enough. Passing from arrogance to arrogance, the National Assembly of
France at last issued a proclamation offering to assist any nation in
Europe against its rulers—or, as it was pleased to call them, its
oppressors. Upon that declaration of anarchy the kings and emperors
prepared for war. In 1792 the French, defeating the Austrians and
Russians in Belgium, swarmed over the frontiers, and the invasion of
Holland was planned. But just as England went to war with Germany to
avenge the violation of Belgium, so she was prepared to sustain the
independence of Holland. So, on February 1st, 1793, war was declared.
To return to the nearer issues of our regimental story, the Black Watch
embarked for Flanders in 1793, joined the army under the Duke of York at
Menin, and marched to the relief of Nieuport. Some time elapsed before
they saw service, but in 1794, having returned in the meantime to
England, they landed at Ostend at a somewhat critical moment. The
approach of the French forces, coupled with the uncertain attitude of
Prussia, placed the division of the Duke of York, then stationed at
Malines, at a disadvantage. Lord Moira, who was in command of the
Highlanders, determined, if possible, to unite his forces with those of
the Duke. The troops were accordingly formed up in the sand-dunes in
marching order and advanced towards Ostaker and Alost. While they were
stationed there, out of the night, like Uhlans entering Brussels, came
400 French cavalry, whom the Highlanders very naturally mistook for
their allies the Hessians. The enemy, trotting through the streets
reached the marketplace, but when one of them made an attempt to sabre a
Highlander on the way, the trick was discovered. The enraged soldier
drawing his bayonet, attacked the horseman. The alarm was given, and the
enemy were driven out by the Dragoons. Shortly after, when Lord Moira
had been succeeded by Lieutenant-General Ralph Abercromby, the British
were beleaguered in Nimeguen. It was deemed politic to evacuate this
town, and the Highlanders, with the other troops, began one of the most
terrible retreats in our history. So piercing was the cold, although it
was only the beginning of November, that the enemy crossed the Waal on
the ice, pushing back the English army behind the Leck. The French had
taken Tuil, and a few days later General Dundas, with the aid of the
Black Watch, drove the enemy back again over the Waal. Again the French
advanced, and it fell to the Highlanders as at Fontenoy to cover the
British rear. Retreat they must for fear of being outflanked. To make
matters worse the swift advance of the French cavalry drove the Light
Dragoons backward, resulting in the loss of two guns.
It was at that critical moment that General Dundas appealed to the Black
Watch to recover what the Dragoons had lost. Without hesitation, but
fired by the honour laid upon them, the Highlanders charged headlong at
the French cavalry who fell into disorder. The artillery horses had
already fallen, but undismayed the 42nd pulled the precious guns home
again.
It was a swift, minor incident, but at the moment when the British army
was in the heart of a hostile and frost-bound country it stood out of
the dreary story like a splash of gold upon a grey sky. Never have the
Black Watch refused the call, and very seldom have they failed.
It is recorded by Archibald Forbes in his admirable _History of the
Black Watch_ that on the rescue of the guns General Dundas addressed the
Highlanders saying, “Forty-second, the 11th Dragoons shall never wear
the red plume on their helmets any more, and I hope the 42nd will carry
it so long as they are the Black Watch.” It was this red plume or
“hackle” that the gallant 42nd have worn on their feather bonnets to
this day, and on June 4, 1795, upon the King’s birthday, it was first
distributed.
This was to prove the only bright episode in the retreat on Bremen. The
numbers of the enemy increased daily, the British were not only in
danger of defeat, but were in imminent peril of starvation, were also
ill equipped for a campaign in the depths of winter, and throughout the
march endured the tacit hostility of the peasantry on their line of
route. “Day after day,” says Mr. Fortescue in his _History of the
British Army_, “the cold steadily increased; and those of the army that
woke on the morning of the 17th of January saw about them such a sight
as they never forgot. Far as the eye could reach over the whitened plain
were scattered gun-limbers, waggons full of baggage, stores, or sick
men, sutlers’ carts, and private carriages. Beside them lay the horses,
dead; here a straggler who had staggered on to the bivouack and dropped
asleep in the arms of the frost; there a group of British and Germans
round an empty rum-cask; here forty English Guardsmen huddled together
about a plundered waggon.... Had the retreat lasted but three or four
days longer, not a man would have escaped; and the catastrophe would
have found a place in history side by side with the destruction of the
Army of Sennacherib and with the still more terrible disaster of the
retreat from Moscow.”
Out of all the army, only the Highlanders endured the rigours of the
weather and such awful privation with any success, losing not more than
twenty-five dead.
That for the time being concluded the operations of the Highland
regiments on the Continent, for in October 1795 the Government decided
to launch an attack directed against the ascendancy of the French
Republic in the West Indies.