The 43rd could maintain this position for as long as was necessary, for they were in cover and far enough (120 to 150 yards) from the French positions for their fire to be poorly aimed. But then Hobkirk's bugler sounded the advance. The soldiers looked at one another for a moment and then the first men began running out of cover and into the open ground. The banging of French muskets suddenly increased, and the redcoats started dropping. Lieutenant Hennell, running forward, saw Baillie, another subaltern in his company, felled with an almighty crack as a bullet smacked into the centre of his forehead.
Having covered about twenty yards, just to a low hedge that offered some slight cover, the companies that had burst out of the wood were pinned down. They lay with their faces pressed to the wet earth, musket balls cracking and ricocheting around them. Looking about, the British officers could see that they had come into a killing ground raked by fire on three sides. A regiment of Frenchmen was loading and firing their pieces the cacophony was intense. Hennell, who survived these desperate moments, would write, 'I have passed, as you will see, the hottest fire I ever saw, Badajoz not excepted.' The lieutenant shouted to his men to stop firing since, 'for every shot we gave them they sent five or six in return'. He knew they could not just lie there, for the ground afforded them almost no cover a man lying next to Hennell suddenly had his jaw shot off. Looking off to his right, the officer spotted a small ditch, to which he led his men, crawling on their bellies.
When the bugler finally sounded the retire, the soldiers knew they would have to stand up into this withering fire again to make their escape. But they went all the same, several more men falling. Seeing the retreat commence, the French launched a bayonet charge which captured Hobkirk and a dozen of his men. The remainder rallied in the woods and considered the cost of their little sally: the two companies had suffered seventy-six men killed, wounded or missing.
The 43rd's mistake at Arcangues had resulted primarily from wanting to cut a dash. The battalion's commanding officer told his wife in a letter home, 'Some young sanguine officers who are more vain than good, concluded that with three or four companies they could drive the whole French army before them.'
Hobkirk, perhaps, had fallen victim to the desire to get written up in a dispatch for a daring act, and a great many men had paid for it. There was a feeling among the officers of the Light Division that peace could be close, a sense that changed the atmosphere. Latecomers felt that there might not be much more time to distinguish themselves. Even some of the poorer veterans in the 43rd or 95th realised that further laurels won in combat might be the only way to avoid being put on the half-pay list when the eventual disbandments or amalgamations happened. Others, though, having been through so much, just felt that they did not want to get killed in the last battle of a war whose outcome was becoming a foregone conclusion. Lieutenant George Simmons, for example, remained with the recuperating Barnard, having decided that he had already shown a great deal of pluck in battle and his advancement now required him to ingratiate himself with a man of influence.
Barnard's convalescence robbed the battalion of his energy and diligence at the very moment that its men faced a new challenge. There was an erosion of discipline on both sides, arising from the feeling of impending peace. Some Light Division officers had received The Times The Times of 8 November and read of Napoleon's complete defeat at Leipzig, the greatest battle of this epoch. They showed it to some French officers who had come down to inspect their own pickets, the two parties approaching each other with a friendly wave. of 8 November and read of Napoleon's complete defeat at Leipzig, the greatest battle of this epoch. They showed it to some French officers who had come down to inspect their own pickets, the two parties approaching each other with a friendly wave.
Fraternisation was taking over among the outposts. When the division set up a new line of pickets on top of the Bassussarry ridge (the French having fallen back of their own accord), the enemy placed theirs close by, just thirty or forty yards in front. Officers would approach with a waved newspaper or a flask of alcohol prominently displayed, in order to signal their peaceful intent. It was understood that if one side were ordered to attack the other, the pickets would approach tapping the stocks of their weapons. This meant 'We are in earnest' and the other side would have the choice to fight or retire.
So intimate were these understandings that only the most ardent fire-eater on the British side, or dyed-in-the-wool Jacobin on the other, would violate them. One morning Lieutenant James Gairdner (returned after his Vitoria wound) was with his company's pickets when a French officer was seen approaching far closer than the agreed spot. The American-born officer and Kincaid, who was inspecting the outposts, watched this advance, before Gairdner concluded, 'Well, I won't kill these unfortunate rascals at all events, but shall tell them to go in and join their picket.' Gairdner walked forward to point out the mistake only to be saluted with gunfire. 'The balls all fell near, without touching him,' according to Kincaid, 'and, for the honour of the French army, I was glad to hear afterwards that the officer alluded to was a militia-man.' It was this sort of fellow, having imbibed too much Bonapartist propaganda or just being a raw civilian, who violated the rules adopted by the chivalrous professionals.
Among the rank and file, these arrangements went rather further. A roaring contraband trade grew up, with deals being done almost nightly at the outposts: the French bought cheap but delicious brandy on behalf of les Goddams Goddams whereas the riflemen provided food and tobacco for Johnny. 'We frequently went into each other's picket houses,' Costello recollected. 'This state of things at our outposts was too subversive of discipline to be tolerated by those in command, and it was only done on the sly, upon a reliance of mutual honour.' In the soldiers' case, this code of behaviour meant keeping the officers in the dark, and Costello himself cheerfully admitted to deceiving Gairdner on these occasions. whereas the riflemen provided food and tobacco for Johnny. 'We frequently went into each other's picket houses,' Costello recollected. 'This state of things at our outposts was too subversive of discipline to be tolerated by those in command, and it was only done on the sly, upon a reliance of mutual honour.' In the soldiers' case, this code of behaviour meant keeping the officers in the dark, and Costello himself cheerfully admitted to deceiving Gairdner on these occasions.
Sergeant Robert Fairfoot was able to join in these barters because Costello had managed to stop him deserting. Taking some of his Vitoria windfall, Costello gave Fairfoot 31 to replace the stolen pay. Such were the bonds between old comrades.
Arcangues, just behind the Bassussarry ridge, was turned into a kind of strongpoint during the last week of November and first of December. The chateau, church and surrounding walled enclosures had been barricaded and put into a state of defence by the 43rd and 95th. The officers made their mess in the chateau, where their host was happy to sell them many a fine bottle from the cellars.
Although the French footslogger anticipated the end of the Napoleonic system, there were still plenty, from Marshal Soult downwards, who insisted that they should do their duty in defending the sacred soil of their country. To this end, he was determined to launch an offensive against the new British lines, and it began on 9 December. An attack by General Clausel, leading two divisions onto the Bassussarry ridge and Arcangues, was ordered for the next day.
The night before the French attack there had been heavy, driving rain. It was still coming down early the following morning as the French columns were mustered and moved forwards. Everything was slowing down in the mud, particularly the artillery, which, in places, was sinking up to its axles on the tracks. The French general ordered his men to press on in any case and a first wave of skirmishers was within a hundred yards of the British pickets by 9 a.m.
On the ridge some of the mounted Light Division staff officers were trotting along with their brigadiers. The fighting elsewhere the previous day made them alive to the possibility of an attack and their battalions had been stood to arms in the valley behind them at dawn, but the day was wearing on and nothing seemed imminent. Both brigadiers Kempt and Colborne stood their men down. The formed regiments began returning to their billets, the pickets remaining on the ridge, hunched under their coats, trying to stay dry. Colborne's brigade major, Smith, and the divisional staff officer, Charlie Beckwith (another Rifles officer, and nephew of Colonel Sidney Beckwith), were both worried, though. They could see parties of Frenchmen moving about in the woods to their front. 'The enemy are going to attack us,' said Smith. Colborne replied, 'No, they are only going to resume their ordinary posts in our front.' Smith became agitated: 'I prayed him to allow me to order my Brigade under arms. At last he consented.'
Some Frenchers, led by officers, walked right up to some pickets of the 43rd: 'The French soldiers witnessing our civility to their small party, were determined not to be outdone in politeness, and called out to our sentinels, in French and Spanish, to retire.' A few minutes later, at around 9.30 a.m., hundreds of French troops began appearing out of the woods in front of the Bassussarry ridge. The British pickets started firing but could see immediately that they would be driven in. On one part of the ridge, where the Highland Company had made its outposts, fourteen riflemen swiftly fell as prisoners into enemy hands.
Hearing the alarm back in Arcangues, Lieutenant Gairdner was mustered along with the reserve for the outlying picket and ordered by Lieutenant Colonel Gilmour, who was in acting command of the 1st/95th (in Barnard's absence), to go onto the ridge and reinforce the picket. Gairdner discussed this briefly with Hopwood, another subaltern of the 2nd Company, to which they both belonged, and could see no sense to it. If the might of the French Army was falling on their front, there was no point in reinforcing a hopeless situation. Best to withdraw the pickets and fight at Arcangues, where a strong defensive position had been prepared. They looked up to the source of the firing, the ridge, and could see some British soldiers running back. Gilmour was insistent. Gairdner recorded his feelings: Our company was sent out from the Chateau ... in order to support the 3rd Batt who were actually Our company was sent out from the Chateau ... in order to support the 3rd Batt who were actually retiring from the ridge when we received the order to retiring from the ridge when we received the order to occupy it to support them occupy it to support them. This was mentioned to the commandant who however had not sense to comprehend that it was not only useless but dangerous to send one company up to occupy a ridge on which we were not able to communicate right or left. However we were ordered to go.
Gairdner and Hopwood went forward, taking Corporal William Brotherwood and a platoon of men. When they reached the top of the ridge, there were French just a few dozen yards in front and musket balls flying all around. They began moving about, directing their men where to take up firing positions. Corporal Brotherwood was talking to Hopwood when a crack and a puff of red mist signalled that both men had been hit. Gairdner crawled across to them. Brotherwood was twitching and breathing his last. Lieutenant Gairdner reached out and held Hopwood's hand. The back of his skull had been blown away, and Gairdner saw the grey flecks of his brain matter on the wet grass. A single bullet had gone straight through Brotherwood's head before taking off the back of Hopwood's 'Thus died uselessly two as brave soldiers as ever stepped.'
Costello, with the same party, was firing away like a man possessed, a little way along the ridge: 'We received them with a fierce and deadly fire. They replied with spirit.' Gairdner could see the French battalions forming up now in front of him and beginning their advance, with a beating of drums and the customary cries, 'En avant, en avant Francais, vive L'Empereur! Francais, vive L'Empereur!' To their left and right, enemy skirmishers were working around them. The position was quite untenable. Gairdner ordered a retreat back down to Arcangues: 'I certainly never ran quicker in my life.'
Although the remainder of 2nd Company saved itself, a good many men of the outlying picket had been killed or captured. The 2nd Battalion baggage was also taken: a financial loss and a blow to their professional pride. Gairdner, puffing and panting, fell in with the remainder of his company, fuming at what had happened.
The French footsloggers pursued their advantage, coming marching down the slope, inspired by their officers as men began falling to well-aimed British shots. The forward French battalions were able to get right up to the outskirts of the village and throw themselves into a charge, but as the shouting men came forward, fusils and rifles were directed at them from every firing point. One French officer reported: 'Although Clausel ... got to the base of the church walls ... the Anglo-Portuguese, in cover, poured a murderous fire on the attackers, while our weapons, soaked with rain gave only mediocre service.' After an hour of this punishment, the French pulled back, carrying their wounded and leaving dozens of dead around the village. The day was decided once again, for the British had been rained upon just as much, by superior skill at arms.
Having taken the ridge, but failed to make any progress into Arcangues, the French wheeled up twelve cannon. This powerful battery would support a general attack on Arcangues by thousands of infantry. It took until midday for the French to place their battery, the gunners sliding and falling many times as they wheeled their pieces through the boggy fields.
Seeing the guns about 350 yards away on the ridge, the British knew that effective artillery fire could cost them dear. The 95th's officers had been trained in a technique for shooting gunners at these extreme ranges: 'Riflemen may be employed also with great success against field artillery ... keeping up a steady fire, the enemy's guns, if unsupported will soon be obliged to withdraw.' This tactic had been rarely practised, even during the long years of the Peninsular War, and it required a remarkable degree of skill on the part of the shooters, for firing was rarely considered effective even with rifles beyond 100 or 150 yards. Some of the soldiers had done it before, though, against the batteries near Badajoz, for example, and the 43rd's men were up for it too.
When the French battery opened up, its shells ripped through the dank air and smacked into the church tower, showering shards of masonry onto the men below. However, the French had fired barely half a dozen times when a hail of bullets began to fall among them. The defenders of Arcangues had to tip their muzzles up at an angle in order for the balls to carry all the way up to the ridgeline. But they could see their balls arcing through the sky and adjusted their shot. The French gunners were soon falling. 'We kept up an incessant discharge of small arms, which so annoyed the French gunners that, during the latter part of the day, they ceased to molest us.' The artillerymen fled back over to the safe side of the ridge. A general French offensive along the line of the River Nive had been defeated with more than four thousand casualties.
From their vantage point near the church, the Rifles could see some of their dead comrades lying on the Bassussarry hill, and at twilight, some French soldiers approached them. These men were saluted with rifle fire, the men of Leach's company being determined to drill any dog who came to plunder Corporal Brotherwood or the others. Eventually a French officer came forward waving a white handkerchief, followed by men with shovels. Assuming them to be a burial party, the riflemen held their fire.
Gairdner looked back on the day's events with considerable anger, noting in his journal, 'Both Hopwood and myself were too aware of the useless danger we were going to meet to have done it without an order ... Hopwood lost his life through the ignorance of the commanding officer and if Colonel Barnard had commanded this day Hopwood, Brotherwood and the other sufferers from the company this day would have been spared.'
The next day, the Light Division re-established its line of outposts on the ridge. There they were saddened to discover that Hopwood and Brotherwood had been stripped of all their belongings by the 'burial party' and had no more than a sprinkling of earth on them. Among the rank and file there was much close examination of the men and the place where they had fallen, the tale of how one bullet had killed two fine men being told around many a campfire in the following months.
Reports of the action at Arcangues spread quickly in the Army. The capture of the fourteen Highland Company men was an embarrassment to the 95th of a kind it had not experienced since the Coa more than three years before. One officer of the 43rd, finding himself away from the Light Division a few days later, was asked, 'whether we had been surprised on 10 December? When assured to the contrary, he assured us that it was generally supposed to be the case ... before leaving the main road, the same questions were put to us in another quarter, by an officer who had previously been in our own corps; which will give a faint idea how rapidly evil and malicious reports fly.'
There were those who envied the Light Division's reputation, no doubt, and thought it rather a good tale to spread that they had been humbled. The flying about of these reports, equally, pricked the pride of those who saw themselves as the best soldiers in the Army. Captain Harry Smith later conceded: 'This was nearer a surprise than anything we had ever experienced.' These weasel words, however, were in a public work. The private verdict in Gairdner's journal was quite blunt the troops on the Bassussarry ridge, including those of a couple of divisions, had been 'taken completely by surprise'. The cost, apart from the killed and wounded, was that forty men from the 1st/95th and 43rd had been taken prisoner, including Second Lieutenant Church he of the bayonet in the charge up La Petite Rhune.
The lessons of all this were complex hard enough to digest for those whose own pride was involved. Peace, looming as it was, had unsettled the usual regularity of the Light Division. Some felt they should make a desperate attempt to garner some personal glory before the fighting was over, hence Hobkirk's conduct of 23 November. But for many other veterans the prospect of an end to the fighting had softened their usual vigilance and allowed the outposts to exist on terms with the French that were rather too friendly. It was the atmosphere of bonhomie among the pickets that allowed the British to be surprised. Perhaps it might not have happened under the iron grip of a Craufurd, prowling about the outposts day and night, or perhaps it would have made no difference. Such speculation doubtless filled the long nights of officers drinking and dining in the chateau.
Those officers who had felt Colonel Barnard's absence most keenly during the recent affair were delighted when he reappeared at Arcangues on 24 December, with Simmons in tow. His recovery had been remarkable, considering he had been shot through the chest, with a graze to his lung, the previous month. Despite the efforts of Army surgeons (who bled him prodigiously soon after his wounding), Barnard had been back riding his horse just a fortnight after the injury. He once again became a source of inspiration to officers or soldiers whose spirit might otherwise have been flagging.
Arcangues became remembered by most of them as a place where the division had suffered some costly mishaps, even though its defensive fighting on 10 December had turned back thousands of French troops and was among its most impressive feats of arms. However, the 95th had not yet been through its last great trial of the Peninsular War. This would come in the new year, in the dying days of Bonaparte's empire.
TWENTY-THREE.
Tarbes
JanuaryMarch 1814
The columns that emerged from the little town of Rabastens, just north of Tarbes, on 20 March 1814 were full of confidence. The Light Division marched in the van as usual. Their chief, Lord Wellington, was among them, darting about in his plain coat, taking everything in with his owlish eye. Marshal Soult had suffered a succession of beatings since the beginning of the year and was now falling back on Toulouse.
The 1st Battalion riflemen had been given new suits, their previous ones having more or less fallen to pieces on their backs. Colonel Barnard wanted them to have as soldierly an appearance as possible and had managed to scrounge enough shakoes the proper regimental headgear for each man to wear. The 2nd and 3rd Battalions were still making do with forage caps instead of those black felt cylindrical hats. The general sense among the riflemen that their war was nearing its end had hardened into a certainty, for reports coming in the mail told them that the main Allied armies were pushing deep into northern France.
A mile or two up the road, looking up to the left at about midday, Wellington spied some French light troops on the ridge, moving among the gaps between thick clumps of trees. The general quickly ordered the 2nd Battalion of Rifles to fall out and prepare to sweep the enemy voltigeurs voltigeurs from the hill. These riflemen moved off from beside the road, extending as they went into the familiar chain, and began walking uphill. from the hill. These riflemen moved off from beside the road, extending as they went into the familiar chain, and began walking uphill.
The French general here, Jean Harispe, had a surprise in store for the Rifles. The test he made of them would be almost as tough as Sabugal in April 1811, and like that battle it came about for the British at least as something of an accident. Harispe had spent his war in Catalonia in the east of Spain and was not used to fighting the British so it might be said he was not intimidated by them.
Harispe, a French Basque, knew the country around Tarbes intimately, having grown up just a few miles away. Behind the ridge that Wellington could see, there was a dip and then a further rise. Harispe had prepared a series of trenches on that piece of rising ground to the rear. This would allow him to ambush whoever came over the first ridge with several battalions of his own troops, arrayed on a hillside so that they could fire over one another's heads.
This unpleasant surprise duly greeted the 2nd Battalion men (numbering about four hundred) as they cleared the initial ridge. One of the Rifle company commanders noted, 'On gaining the summit of the hill we found a much larger force than was supposed to be there and we had to sustain a very severe fight against a large force before the remainder of our corps was sent forward to support.'
The six companies of the 1st Battalion and those of the 3rd Battalion now moved up the ridge. Costello recalled, 'We went down the road at the "double". As we passed them, some of our regiments of cavalry gave us an encouraging huzza.'
Many 2nd Battalion men were now dropping, falling under a withering fire of musketry. 'The whole of their heavy infantry [was] drawn up on a steep acclivity, near the windmill, which allowed them to have line behind line, all of which could fire over each other's heads, like the tiers of guns on a three decker.'
The French officers ordered a charge, seeing just skirmishers in front of them; they knew unformed men must fall back before a phalanx of cold steel. Harispe, wrote one Rifles officer, 'having been accustomed for many years to oppose imperfectly organised Spaniards, probably did not calculate on so warm a reception'.
This charge drove the 2nd Battalion men back fifty yards or so and they now found firing positions among some stone-walled vineyards and orchards. The French battalion commanders were redressing their ranks and readying their men for another push forward when the 1st Battalion riflemen came trotting up, dropping into firing positions next to their 2nd Battalion mates. The French drums beat Old Trousers again, but these would-be chargers were discomfited by the 1st Battalion as it began to skirmish forwards. 'This column was driven back by a rapid advance of the 1st Batt 95th Rifles and a close fire of a few yards literally mowed down the French officers at the head of the column with their drummers beating the "pas de charge".'
Lieutenant George Simmons, seeing the French falter and begin to crumble, stood up to lead his men forward, but then, 'a Frenchman took a long shot at me; the ball fractured my right knee pan and knocked me down as if I had been struck with a sledge-hammer'. Colonel Barnard, who commanded this battle of eighteen Rifle companies against a French brigade, had meanwhile sent the 3rd Battalion off to the right to turn the enemy flank. In the centre, 'a heavy tirallade was then kept up in the vineyards between the riflemen and large bodies of French voltigeurs voltigeurs which caused loss to us as we had no cover and could not give up any of the ground we had taken'. which caused loss to us as we had no cover and could not give up any of the ground we had taken'.
With the French falling back through walls and trees, the two sides blazed away in a withering contest of firearms. They were close enough for the Baker rifle's advantages to be negated, the French being able to get aimed shots in over the twenty or thirty yards that separated them. The Rifles officers, leading their men forward, paid a heavy price, eleven becoming casualties. Captain William Cox, 2nd Battalion, got a ball in his left thigh, breaking the femur like a dry branch, and his brother John, still serving with the 1st, was shot in the right leg.
Harispe ordered a general withdrawal of his division, for there were other British formations advancing on his flanks and he needed to disentangle himself. With the enemy streaming back, the British buglers sounded the recall and Barnard's companies formed up in case the French changed their minds and resumed the attack. Wellington rode up to see the 1st Battalion on top of the ridge, telling them, 'Ah, there you are, as usual, just where you should be; not gone too far.'
Barnard found the general and insisted that he should come further, for there had been a great slaughter of the attacking French. Wellington told him, 'Well, Barnard, to please you, I will go, but I require no novel proof of the destructive fire of your Rifles.' The 95th's officers were quite taken aback by the casualties: 'The loss of the enemy from the fire of our Rifles was so great that one could not believe one's eyes. I certainly had never seen the dead lie so thick, nor ever did, except subsequently at Waterloo.'
It is unclear exactly how many men the French lost. Official French returns indicate only around 180 killed and wounded. The Rifles officers, though, were adamant that the numbers had been substantial. Their estimates ranged from asserting that the French suffered as many casualties as the entire number of riflemen engaged (over a thousand) to suggestions that they had suffered double the British losses (those being 111 officers and men, killed and wounded), an estimate not so hard to reconcile with the official French figures. It is quite possible, though, that French casualties may have reached three or even four hundred, Lieutenant James Gairdner commenting in his journal, 'I never saw on any occasion so many men killed by skirmishers as the enemy lost on this occasion.'
Although the French Army was pretty well knocked up by this point in the campaign, the importance of the engagement at Tarbes was that it was the 95th's own battle a mass employment of Rifles which involved taking an entrenched position by frontal assault and then withstanding a countercharge by enemy assault columns. There had been no partnership with the 43rd or 52nd at Tarbes, as in so many other battles. It thus marked the final emphatic vindication of the 95th's tactics and methods of the Peninsular War.
'On the 20th the Army advanced near Tarbes and we had quite a 95th affair,' Barnard wrote to Cameron, his predecessor as commanding officer.
I assure you the rifles were laid very strait ... the enemy lost as many men as I think it possible to be knocked over in so short a time the beauty of the business was that we were formed and ready for another attack in a few minutes. Lord W. saw the whole business and was most pleased with the rapidity with which the corps made its attacks and equally so with the quickness with which they got together when it was over. I assure you the rifles were laid very strait ... the enemy lost as many men as I think it possible to be knocked over in so short a time the beauty of the business was that we were formed and ready for another attack in a few minutes. Lord W. saw the whole business and was most pleased with the rapidity with which the corps made its attacks and equally so with the quickness with which they got together when it was over.
Lest this seem too much like the 95th trumpeting its own achievement, it is worth quoting the views of a British officer from another regiment who was attached to the Portuguese army at the time of Tarbes: I never saw such skirmishers as the 95th, now the Rifle Brigade. They could do the work much better, and with infinitely less loss than any other of our best light troops. They possessed an individual boldness, a mutual understanding, and a quickness of eye, in taking advantage of the ground, which taken together, I never saw equalled. I never saw such skirmishers as the 95th, now the Rifle Brigade. They could do the work much better, and with infinitely less loss than any other of our best light troops. They possessed an individual boldness, a mutual understanding, and a quickness of eye, in taking advantage of the ground, which taken together, I never saw equalled.
George Simmons, in agony from his smashed knee, was taken back to Tarbes in a wagon with some other casualties. There, to his delight, he found that his brother Maud had been appointed the town major. Maud soon installed George in the best lodgings at his disposal. The two brothers were to spend weeks together there as Wellington's Army marched towards the last act of the Peninsular War in Toulouse.
They wrote home, George reflecting that the French Army's performance in 1814 had improved somewhat but that 'Every cock ought to fight better upon its own dung hill.' Although Marshal Soult had been able to inspire those who stayed within the ranks to fight well, thousands had deserted from the French Army in expectation of the imminent collapse of the Empire.
The brothers managed to lay in large supplies of excellent Bordeaux at one shilling a bottle and spent the evenings talking over the fate of Europe and of the Simmons clan. George proudly showed off an inscribed gold watch that Colonel Barnard had given him in thanks for his nursing after the Battle of the Nivelle. He was relieved that his own wound would not disqualify him from further service.
Maud Simmons was evidently more reconciled to the end of hostilities, telling his parents that 'peace must shortly bring us together'. George talked of getting back to his regiment and of enlisting in some other country's army if indeed Bonaparte was really done for. His feelings, and the degree to which he accepted the vicissitudes and simple pleasures of a soldier's life, were quite unusual. Captain Leach was speaking for far more when he stated, 'The general and universal feeling ... was that, for the present we had had enough of campaigning.'
Those days of late March involved the battalion in another reckoning, one infinitely less to its credit than the combat of Tarbes. The facts were as follows: on 18 March several soldiers had entered a French farmer's house near the village of Plaisance. When he refused them drink and cash, an argument began and the farmer struck one of the soldiers. This cuff cost the Frenchman his life, for one of the intruders, flying into a fury, killed him on the spot.
When British officers investigated the complaints of the villagers in Plaisance, they soon determined that the criminals were riflemen. 'We tried every means to find out the villain, but to no purpose,' wrote one officer. Soldiers were paraded and told that they would all suffer if they did not give up the culprit. There was little chance, however, of intimidating the men. Not only were they grizzled veterans who would be loath to rat on a messmate they all also knew the strict orders against pillaging the French that had been issued by Lord Wellington. If you handed over a man for this crime, it would be as good as putting him on a rope yourself.
Careful consideration of the timing of the murder led some to suspect the 1st Battalion and, indeed, Leach's company. Many of the officers, though, chose to blame the crime on the Portuguese and to turn a page on the whole affair. A collection of a hundred guineas was made for the French farmer's wife; the battalion marched away and the murderer remained undetected. But just as the men of Lieutenant James Gairdner's platoon had deceived him about the degree of their fraternisation and commerce with the enemy the previous autumn, so some of them were now keeping secret the identity of the murderer and his accomplices within 2nd Company's ranks.
TWENTY-FOUR.
Castel Sarrazin
AprilJune 1814
Almost a month had passed since Simmons's wounding at Tarbes when he reached Toulouse. He was still limping heavily, but was fit, in his own view, to rejoin the regiment. There he was able to gaze upon the city's defences, shattered that April in the battle that marked the final chapter in the Peninsular War. The fight, with its thousands killed and maimed, was doubly futile, since a messenger carrying news of Napoleon's abdication reached Marshal Soult just too late to stop it happening. Toulouse was another of those large set pieces in which the 95th's role had not been great.
Simmons pressed on until 20 May, when he reached a town called Castel Sarrazin. There he 'found the officers living in the gayest manner possible. The people extremely kind to us.' Those who had spent years living in rude bivouacs, not knowing whether each day would be their last, found an idyll in Sarrazin. They walked along the banks of the Garonne, escorted the prettiest French girls to dances, lay reading in the long grass and supped fine feasts a la fourchette a la fourchette.
The local women were grateful for such chivalrous companions their own stock of men had been depleted by the long wars, the wine was sublime and the delicacies were cheap. For the soldiers, though, there was an irony in their situation: it was part of the perverse logic of war that whenever they found themselves somewhere truly delightful, they were deep in arrears of pay, in this case nine months. Nevertheless, they somehow contrived to scrape a few pennies together and benefited from much local hospitality.
The change in the lives of these hardened men was so complete that some were quite disorientated by it. Captain Harry Smith described their feelings eloquently: The feeling of no war, no picquets, no alerts, no apprehension of being turned out, was so novel after six years perpetual and vigilant war, it is impossible to describe the sensation. Still, it was one of momentary anxiety, seeing around us the promptitude, the watchfulness, the readiness with which we could move and be in a state of defence or attack. It was so novel that at first it was positively painful at least, I can answer for myself in this feeling. The feeling of no war, no picquets, no alerts, no apprehension of being turned out, was so novel after six years perpetual and vigilant war, it is impossible to describe the sensation. Still, it was one of momentary anxiety, seeing around us the promptitude, the watchfulness, the readiness with which we could move and be in a state of defence or attack. It was so novel that at first it was positively painful at least, I can answer for myself in this feeling.
Quite a few of the young men fell hopelessly in love in Sarrazin. It took no more than a nervous introduction, a chaperoned walk by the river and some exchange of pleasantries for their hearts, starved for so long of female company, to soar to the heights of passion. John Kincaid tells us, 'in returning from a ride, I overtook my love and her sister, strolling by the river's side, and, instantly dismounting, I joined in their walk ... when I looked round, I found her mounted astride on my horse! and with such a pair of legs too!'
The girls being of good family, and their suitors chivalrous gentlemen, few if any of these passions were consummated. But there were towns from Toulouse to Bordeaux with whores enough for those who could not contain themselves amid so much beauty. Leach was convinced that even among the peasantry of the French Basque region, 'I never remember in any country having seen more handsome women collected together ... their complexions were strikingly and almost universally beautiful.'
The Rifles officers escorted their new-found belles to dances and fetes champetres fetes champetres, thankful for the recent issue of clothing that had at least stopped them looking like scarecrows. But French ladies, like their warrior husbands, were unused to the dark-green uniforms of the 95th, leading to many misunderstandings and much teasing by officers of other regiments. One subaltern of the 43rd noted gleefully that his friend in the 95th 'was most confoundedly annoyed when the officers of the Rifle corps were taken for Portuguese, which was very often. Then again, the foreigners could not understand their not wearing epaulettes, and they were under the painful necessity of telling the people of every town they went to that they were really officers.'
The other ranks were also able to amuse themselves during these weeks. Costello, who by this time was a corporal, went with another NCO across the River Tarn one evening to join in a feast at the sergeants' mess of a French infantry regiment. The two riflemen walked along lines of their former foes, saluting them before being summoned inside to sit at tables groaning with local produce. Toasts were raised, and 'we did not forget to do justice to the acknowledged merits of John Bull in all matters of this nature, and much good feeling and conviviality followed, with encomiums and compliments being passed on the English.' Only one of their hosts tried to sour the atmosphere with a choice remark about the visitors' fighting qualities, and he was thrown down some stairs by his fellow sous-officiers sous-officiers for his trouble. Costello discovered a bond with some of the French soldiers, their shared freemasonry helping to cement good feeling. for his trouble. Costello discovered a bond with some of the French soldiers, their shared freemasonry helping to cement good feeling.
Napoleon's defeated legions were not so polite everywhere. The French civilians generally welcomed the British, but following one visit to a dance in Moissac, across the Tarn, Simmons noted, 'The French officers were jealous of the civility shown to us by the people, and requested we would not visit the town any more.' Leach went to watch a review of some of the French regiments and was delighted to spot Marshals Suchet and Soult. The first seemed garrulous; as for the junior officers, they were 'for the most part lively and animated, without the smallest appearance of despondency or disappointment at the late change, or the loss of their imperial master. Marshal Soult alone appeared sullen and dejected.'
As the Rifles battalions waited to discover what would happen to them, Lieutenant Gairdner once more faced the anxiety of being ordered to fight in his native America, where a nasty conflict of raids and inconclusive but bloody engagements continued. Although serving with the 1st Battalion, Gairdner was technically on the strength of the 3rd and it was they who were eventually ordered, along with thousands of Wellington's men, to embark for America. Thankfully, Colonel Barnard was able to retain him with the 1st Battalion, for otherwise he would have felt bound to resign. Gairdner's feelings were further complicated by his infatuation with a local girl in Sarrazin.
On 30 May, when the 1st/95th finally received its order to embark for England, Gairdner was wrenched away from his sweetheart along with all the other Light Division officers who had enjoyed the Elysian fields on the banks of the Garonne. Gairdner wrote in his journal, 'The thought of leaving Castel Sarrazin perhaps never to see it more gives me greater pain than I could have thought possible.' His company commander would later write, 'Great regret was expressed when the order arrived which obliged us to leave our new French acquaintances; some of the fair females of whom had ruined the peace of mind (pro tempore tempore) of many of our gallant gay Lotharios.'
The farewells were to prove particularly difficult for those men of the regiment who had acquired Spanish and Portuguese wives. It became clear, with the orders to return to Shorncliffe, that these women would not be allowed to travel back with them. Some tried to make arrangements for their guapas guapas to follow on later, others bade them goodbye. In six cases, though, the riflemen chose to desert rather than leave their lovers behind. One of the Scottish Cummings brothers, Joseph, a bugler in the 2nd Company, was among those who disappeared as the dread day approached. to follow on later, others bade them goodbye. In six cases, though, the riflemen chose to desert rather than leave their lovers behind. One of the Scottish Cummings brothers, Joseph, a bugler in the 2nd Company, was among those who disappeared as the dread day approached.
This moment came on 11 June 1814, as the Light Division was marching across southern France for embarkation at Bordeaux. The 95th, 43rd and 52nd lined the streets, presenting arms, as the Cacadores Cacadores, men of the 17th Portuguese Regiment, and wives and followers who had been their companions through thick and thin passed between them. The twenty-one Spaniards who soldiered on in the 1st/95th's ranks, including Lazarro Blanco, who had been in Leach's company since June 1812, were also discharged on this day. British soldiers gave three lusty cheers to their comrades, many of whom marched away in tears. The young boys who had looked after the milk goats and mules for company messes were given the animals as presents. Some of the followers, evidently feeling cheated, stole before they went.
It was only after their departure that some of Costello's mates told him that Blanco, then marching to his home in Spain, was the man who had killed the French farmer in Plaisance two months before. Not only had he got away with murder, but the role of his British or Irish accomplices in the company was to remain a secret for ever, for the reports had made it clear that Blanco did not commit the crime on his own. Another mystery was solved, however, as the battalion prepared to embark: William MacFarlane, a soldier who had deserted the regiment in October 1811, decamped from the French Army and was returned to his old battalion. Three of the five men who deserted during the same period, including Joseph Almond, had been executed. But MacFarlane, who had served Napoleon for as many years as Almond had weeks, escaped with his life.
As for the financial rewards for all those years of bitter fighting, many of the men felt hard done by. Marching into Bordeaux on 14 June, most had nothing more than the coloured clothes they stood up in. It was true that some, like Costello, had secreted away some treasure from Vitoria or some other place of plunder. The great majority had not, though, and all their pay had been spent maintaining a supply of rum and tobacco during countless freezing wet nights on the Beira frontier.
The only medals carried by the rank and file of the 95th were the odd Legions d'honneur Legions d'honneur taken from Frenchmen during their campaigns. This they resented bitterly. For many of the riflemen even a distinction like the little badge bearing the letters 'V. S.' inside a laurel would have been something. These were run up by the 52nd's tailor for men who had survived Badajoz and Rodrigo, the initials standing for 'Valiant Stormer'. For some reason the 43rd and 95th did not get even these distinctions. taken from Frenchmen during their campaigns. This they resented bitterly. For many of the riflemen even a distinction like the little badge bearing the letters 'V. S.' inside a laurel would have been something. These were run up by the 52nd's tailor for men who had survived Badajoz and Rodrigo, the initials standing for 'Valiant Stormer'. For some reason the 43rd and 95th did not get even these distinctions.
In trying to reward these veterans, the hands of Wellington and other officers were tied by the Horse Guards' bureaucracy. Napoleon had proved far better at establishing a scheme of payments and marks of distinction for outstanding soldiers. The Peninsular Army did manage to copy one such French measure: the appointment of deserving men to guard the regimental colours. The British rank of colour sergeant had been introduced to reward distinguished NCOs with an extra nine pennies a day. Robert Fairfoot was an early recipient of this bounty, having been appointed colour sergeant in September 1813.
Among the officers, many had spent rather more than they earned in the Peninsula. One subaltern of the 43rd calculated his net loss at 70, a sum made good in bills dispatched by his parents. For the likes of George Simmons, sending 40 or 50 each year in the other direction, only the most careful husbandry of his resources prevented him from ending his campaign in debt. Simmons and many of the other officers had profited from the fortunes of war, too, having unburdened a good many dead or captured French of medals, trinkets, horses and cash. The wheel of fortune had turned quite a few times during those long years, of course, and most of the old campaigners had also lost horses and mules during their marches, bearing the expense out of their own pockets.
For the real veterans, the group who had sailed out in May 1809, the moment was coming to cash in the pay arrears. Pay parades had been cancelled or deferred so often that many had received considerably less than their due during the five years they had been away. The money owing hundreds of pounds for a subaltern would be payable when they got home. There was also the blood money due to many of them for their wounds. Simmons had been seriously wounded twice, Costello twice and Sergeant Fairfoot five times, most severely at Badajoz.
How many, though, had soldiered through like them? The battalion, along with the 2nd Rifles, was carried home on a huge three-decker battleship, the Ville de Paris Ville de Paris, arriving off Portsmouth on 22 July 1814. They came back as they had left, to three cheers not from their loved ones, for they had no idea when the battalion would dock or where, but from the yardarms and tops of the Ville de Paris Ville de Paris, a tribute from the tars to the toughest soldiers of Wellington's army.
Of the forty-seven officers who sailed with the battalion in May 1809, only six were still serving with the Peninsular Army at the end of the campaigns in southern France. Of these, Captain Harry Smith was away on the staff (and sailed at the last minute for America) and his brother Lieutenant Tom Smith was serving in the 2nd Battalion. That left four 1st Battalion officers Lieutenant Colonel Dugald Gilmour, Major Jonathan Leach, Captain Willie Johnston and Lieutenant George Simmons of whom two had been back in Britain for leave during the years of fighting. So just two officers returning in July 1814 Leach and Simmons had served with the battalion all the way through from May 1809, and even they had both had periods of sick leave in Portugal.