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BRITISH COLONIAL WARS, INCLUDE AFGHANISTAN,
SUDAN, ASHANTI, SOUTH AFRICAN WAR AND ZULU WAR.
[ India ]
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 | The Siege of Quebec 1759
 | Unerring in his choice of men, Pitt had marked Wolfe in 1758,
when, at the head of his mobile light infantry, he had done so
much to bring about the surrender and fall of Louisbourg.
When the young Colonel returned to England he was already a
popular hero, but evading any public demonstration, he quietly
rejoined his regiment at Salisbury. Soon he received his
orders from Pitt. Quebec, the stronghold of the French in
Canada - on which Wolfe had wished to dash after Louisbourg -
must be captured, and with it America. In modest
confidence Wolfe accepted his chance of glory in the words
"A greater part than I wished or desired". The
time had come when the incapacity of the British Generals could
be no longer endured, and the people were delighted with Pitt's
choice of a young leader, neither "rich in votes" nor
"related to a Duke". Yet for appearance sake the
new commander was allowed only local rank of
Major-General. In February 1759 Wolfe, under the convoy of
Admiral Saunders, sailed from Spithead with stores and a small
number of troops; it being designed that his land force should
be drawn from the American garrisons. Eventually, only
8,500 men gathered at Louisbourg, but every man spick, span, and
fit, save Wolfe himself, who, though he frequently said
"spirit will carry a man through anything", was a
martyr to ill health. Immediately the St Lawrence was open
to navigation the troopships set sail, and after many feats of
seamanship anchored off the island of Orleans. In front
lay the six mile ridge to the east of Quebec, forming the camp
of Montcalm, who had at least 16,000 men available for the
defence of the city, which seemed impregnable on all
sides. The early capture of Point Levis - an eminence
opposite Quebec - enabled Wolfe to bombard the city, but after
eight weeks of effort he was no nearer getting inside it.
At length he decided to attempt one of the most audacious feats
in the history of sieges. Discovering that just westward
of the city there was a winding path from the shore up the
precipitous cliffs, he determined to set his troops the
apparently impossible task of reaching Quebec by this risky
course. In the stillness of night, broken only by his own
recital of Gray's "Elegy", Wolfe with his men was
borne up the river. Twice they were challenged from the
cliffs, and on each occasion a Highland officer replied in
perfect French that they were friendly convoys of
provisions. In the meantime Montcalm was distracted by the
fear of a night attack on his camp to the east, so furious was
the firing from the batteries and guns. After incredible
physical feats Wolfe and his whole force of 4,300 men swarmed up
the difficult ascent, and at six o'clock in the morning the
astounded French saw their foes on the plains of Abraham.
Montcalm hastened to the attack, and by ten o'clock was ready to
give battle. Notwithstanding the impetuous advance of the
French, firing rapidly as they came along, Wolfe's men obeyed
his orders not to volley until at a distance of forty
paces. The result was terrible. Through the rents in
the French ranks the English charged with sword and bayonet, and
the day was won, but in the hour of victory the heroic Wolfe was
shot down. "See! they run!" shouted one of his
officers. "Who run?" said Wolfe, and on being
told, gasped "I now die in peace!" The capture
of Quebec sealed the fate of the French in America, and Wolfe
died, in the words of Pitt, "at the moment when his fame
began." (extract from British Battles 1898) |
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| Pondicherry, 1761 and 1778
| In the great struggle for military supremacy in India the
province on the Coromandel coast known as the Carnatic played a
notable part. Its extent was some 500 miles from North to
South, and about 100 miles inland, and on its seaboard lay the
English and French settlements. Madras City was the centre
of British influence; Pondicherry - lying 53 miles to the South
- that of the French. The earlier years of European
activity in the Great Peninsula were a period of peaceful
commercial enterprise and rivalry, but the course of events led
gradually yet inevitably to a duel for dominion which closed
only with the total disappearance of the French Indian
Empire. Pondicherry figured with unenviable frequency in
the varying fortunes of the flight. As early as 1748 the
town withstood a siege of 50 days at the hands of Admiral
Boscawen, and on the retirement of the British its bold and
ambitious Governer, Dupleix, set to work to accomplish his dream
of a French Empire in the Deccan. Without regard to the
political situation in Europe, English and French intrigued,
campaigned, and fought on in India; reinforcements were sent out
in considerable numbers; and Clive, the "heaven born
General", carved an imperishable name with his sword.
In 1761 Eyre Coote besieged Pondicherry at the head of 3,500
British soldiers and 7,000 Sepoys. Although the garrison
numbered only 1,500 French and native troops under the Count de
Lally, it made a stout resistance, until starvation compelled
submission and the place was levelled to the ground. Two
years later the Peace of Paris restored it to its former owners,
and in time the fortifications were completely restored, but the
French power in India was irretrievably broken. When, in
1778, the Governemnt of Paris openly espoused the cause of the
revolted North American Colonies the flame of war was fanned
into new vigour in the East, and once again Pondicherry became
the object of attack. Sir Hector Munro conducted the
siege. Under the gallant Bellecombe the garrison held out
for ten weeks, but in the month of October further resistance
was impossible and the town capitulated. The French were
allowed to march out with all the honours of war. The
troubled history of Pondicherry did not end here, for in 1783 it
was restored to France, obly to fall once more into the hands of
the English ten years later. At the general settlement of
1816 it reverted yet again to the French ownership, and remains
today a peaceful and flourishing trading centre, almost the only
remnant of a great hope. (extract from British
Battles 1898) |
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| Ballinamuck, 1798
| "Ninety eight" marked the close of a tragic and
sanguinary chapter in Ireland's history. For upwards of
thirty years the unhappy country had been the theatre of
discontent and lawlessness. Unspeakable horrors were
enacted by the disaffected and the Government alike. In
1796 the Directory at Paris, responding to the appeals of Wolfe
Tone and the other physical force leaders, despatched a
formidable fleet carrying 15,000 picked troops, under General
Hoche, to the coast of Munster. Once again the elements
were against our invaders, and a furious gale swept the squadron
back to Brest. The two following years were passed amid
terrible acts of indiscriminate vengeance. In 1798, just
when Lord Cornwallis, the new Viceroy, was beginning with a firm
but merciful hand to restore order, and, with order, hope, the
French Government renewed their attempt. General Humbert,
with 1,000 men, a few guns, and a considerable stand of arms,
sailed from Rochelle towards the middle of August, and anchored
in Killala Bay on the 22nd of the month. It was arranged
that General Hardi, who was at Brest with some 3,000 men, should
follow as quickly as possible. Humbert could not afford to
wait for the reinforcements as everything depended upon the
celerity and unexpectedness of his advance. Capturing
Killala, he armed the peasantry, who crowded to welcome him, and
advanced to Ballina at the head of about 800 French soldiers and
a mob of undisciplined Irish. General Lake was ordered to
meet him at Castlebar, where some 3,000 or 4,000 men, mostly
Irish Militia, and several guns were assembled. Although
outnumbered, Humbert decided to attack, and, owing to the
treacherous flight of the Kilkenny and Longford Militia,
captured the position. Lake retreated to Tuam, abandoning
his guns. Cornwallis, hurrying up with the troops of the
Dublin garrison, joined him. Humbert moved eastward to
Sligo. The half armed peasants flocked to his standard in
increasing numbers, but General Hardi failed to arrive. On
reaching the Shannon the little French force crossed the river
at Ballintra, with Lake close behind them and Cornwallis
advancing in a parallel line from the South West.
Recognising the hopelessness of his position, Humbert faced his
pursuers at Ballinamuck, but, finding himself surrounded by
20,000 men, surrendered at discretion. The Irish
insurgents immediately dispersed, only to undergo a pitiless
punishment. (extract from British Battles 1898) |
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| The Battle of Aboukir, 1801
| When Nelson shattered the French in the Bay of Aboukir he
foresaw, as his despatches showed, that the army of Buonaparte
in Egypt was land locked. Such a great naval historian as
Captain Mahan has dwelt on this fact; hence the weightiness that
is implied in the term "Sea-power". Buonaparte,
having made an unsuccessful attempt, after traversing the
Palestine desert, to effect the siege of Acre, defended by Sir
Sidney Smith, was obliged to anticipate the retreat from Moscow,
and wearily trudge back to Egypt. Next his ambitious stake
for Empire recalled him to France, and he left Egypt hurriedly
and the army of occupation to its fate. Eventually the
British Government, alive to the fruits of Nelson's victory,
despatched Sir Ralph Abercormby to dislodge the imprisoned
French battalions and to capture the covetable land of
Egypt. In March 1801, Abercromby, with Smith of Acre, and
Moore, afterwards of Corunna, was prepared to disembark on the
shore affronting the castle of Aboukir. The whole thing
was a plunge into the unknown. The General had no maps, no
clues of military topography. Everything depended upon his
imperturbable coolness, and on that intrepid and resourceful
spirit and action of the men in his command. Wolfe had
taken Quebec; why should not Abercromby take Egypt? The
blood of heroes ran hot in the veins of Englishmen. And it
runs still. Thus although every Frenchman was entrenched,
and every cannon posted, there was no flinching. In the
early morning every man for the landing was in his position in
his boat. In the fury of the cannonade three boats were
sunk, but a fair number out of the 180 men involved were
saved. The captain of this enterprise of seamanship was
Alexander Cochrane, of the famous family of Dundonald.
Eventually the troops plunged through the surf, with bayonets
fixed and flags flying, and dashed up the steep sandhills.
The 42nd Highlanders, rapidly clambering up, raced up to the
French defenders, and closed with bayonet and butt-end. In
the meantime the French cavalry had courageously ridden into the
sea and cut down many of the close packed troops in the landing
boats. Again, too, squadrons charged into the ranks of the
alert invaders, but they were repulsed with heavy
casualties. Nothing could stop the fearless headway of the
dauntless infantry, seamen and marines. General Moore was
the life and soul of this wondrous attack, which, however,
caused him the loss of nearly 700 killed and wounded. The
affair was almost as acrobatic as that of Quebec, and the
Frenchmen had a quick awakening from their experiences of native
troops. In a few hours after the original order for
landing, the scattered enemy was in headlong retreat on the road
to Alexandria, upon which, as will presently be shown, the
elated English eagerly prepared to advance. (extract
from British Battles 1898) |
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| The Battle of Alexandria or Canopus, 1801
| After the heroic landing of the English at Aboukir, the
decisive defeat of the French defenders, and their scurry back
to their stronghold at Alexandria, Sir Ralph Abercromby's
crowning effort of his life as a soldier had to be put
forth. It was meet that in this triumphant labour he
should be seconded by the heroic energies of his own
countrymen. As will be seen the 92nd Highlanders and the
90th Regiment of Perthshire Light Infantry did much towards the
ousting of the French from Egypt. These regiments, with
the 40th Foot as cover, formed the first order of attack upon
the enemy drawn up at Mandora in front of the French position on
the sandhills stretching between Alexandria and the lake of
Aboukir. With characteristic elan these devoted regiments
advanced eagerly against the foe, and although raked by grape
shot, rushed to the mouths of the guns and straightway captured
them, cutting down their valiant defenders to a man.
Shortly after this, General Abercromby had his horse shot under
him and was rescued by the Perthsires. In the meantime
great difficulty had been felt by the seamen and marines in
their attempts to drag the guns through the loose sand.
Added to this the English had their first experience of a
mirage, and the plain on the right of the enemy appeared to be a
vast lake. At this juncture Abercromby momentarily
despaired, and proceeded to await the advance of heavy guns from
the ships with which to defend his captured ground. This
halt enabled the French commander, General Menou, to increase
his forces to nearly 14,000 men. It also encouraged him to
attack the reckless invaders. Accordingly on the 21st
March, at that hour before day break termed by Caesar prima luce,
Menou ordered his arms to advance, and drive the British into
the lake. But there was no surprise, as Abercromby had his
men ready. First the pickets were driven in, and the enemy
came on with a mighty rush. The 42nd Highlanders and the
Welsh Fusiliers met them nobly, and after a few rounds of volley
firing hurled themselves at the enemy with the bayonet.
Next the French "Invincibles" tore down to the attack
in the horrid darkness of smoke, only to find themselves in a
lane of Highlanders, who mercilessly slew them. Quite 700
of the French heroes fell and the survivors were glad to deliver
their standard to Major Stirling of the 42nd. Feeling
victory within his grasp, Abercromby shouted "My brave
Highlanders, remember our country, remember your
forefathers!" Incited by this appeal the Scots went
madly to the attack. As a last effort Menou called on his
cavalry to make a final charge. On they came under
Brigadier Roize, only to be thoroughly broken and impaled.
Not till then was it noticed that Abercromby was mortally
wounded. He had been ubiquitous in the fight, and at one
stage was engaged in a hand to hand struggle with two
dragoons. When his wound was at length insupportable he
lay down in agony, and amid the tears and shouts of his
followers was taken on board the "Foudroyant" where he
died. Fourteen hundred British and 3,000 French
represented the loss that day. Closely following on this
signal victory succeeded the surrender of the French at Cairo,
and their evacuation of Egypt. (extract from
British Battles 1898) |
|
| The Battle of Trafalgar, 1805
| "God gave us victory, but Nelson died". In
this pregnant sentence is written the pride and grief of a
nation. When England took upon herself the task of
overthrowing the world power of Napoleon, she was fortunate in
having at her call not only brave men but leaders of unflinching
courage and skill and resource. Among these the most
famous is Nelson. He it was who swept the French from the
seas and established the supremacy of Great Britain upon the
waters. Nelson met the allied fleet off Trafalgar with an
inferior force. He had only twenty five sail of the line
and four frigates to oppose to their thirty three ships and
seven frigates - the eyes of the fleet as he named these ocean
scouts. Yet he never for a moment doubted the issue, and
declared that he would not be content with fewer than twenty
captures, an estimate that was absolutely accurate. The
enemy's fleet was skillfully disposed, but the superior skill
and daring of the British Admiral quickly reduced these
advantages. Having flown the signal "England expects
every man this day to do his duty", Nelson exclaimed:
"Now I can do no more. We must trust in the Great
Disposer of all things and to the justice of our cause. I
thank God for this great opportunity of doing my
duty." Handled with that skill which comes from long
experience, the British ships advanced over the rough sea and
breaking through the enemy's lines held them in deadly
conflict. The struggle was long and bitter. The
Victory went into action with colours flying and speedily became
shrouded in smoke and so interlocked with the British Temeraire,
the French Redoubtable, and the Spanish four decker, Santissima
Trinidad, that her big guns were worked with difficulty.
The fighting was at terribly close quarters. A deadly
fusillade swept the decks of the flag ships, and Nelson, a
conspicuous figure in admiral's uniform, with stars and medals
on his breast, fell mortally wounded by a shot from the mizzen
top of the Redoubtable. The man who fired the fatal shot
did not live to glory in his deed. Two midshipmen - the
only officers left on the poop - avenged the death of their
chief and their country's irreparable loss. The victory
was complete. Twenty ships struck their colours, but some
were so disabled that they sank in the gale, while others
drifted ashore. Four only of the prizes were saved.
Alva, the Spanish admiral, died of his wounds, and the French
Admiral, Villeneuve, was brought to England a prisoner. (extract
from British Battles 1898) |
|
| The Battle of Corunna, 1809
| Sir John Moore is one of the few soldiers who have won lasting
fame by the conduct of a retreat. When he was sent to
arrest the victorious march of Napoleon through the Peninsula he
foretold failure. Despite many difficulties he succeeded
in baffling the greatest military genius that the world has
known, and in lowering the prestige of triumphant arms.
With twenty thousand fighting men he invaded a country overrun
by three hundred thousand veterans, and, meeting with no support
from the Spaniards, struck boldly at Bonaparte's
communications. The audacity of this strategy drew from
Napoleon the admission that Moore was the only foe worthy of his
steel. With characteristic energy Bonaparte abandoned his
plan of campaign and set out in pursuit, but rumour of an
alliance between Russia and Austria sent him in hot haste to
Paris. Soult was left behind to drive the British into the
sea. Undismayed by the overwhelming force with which he
was threatened, Moore prepared to meet the French. But
prudence prevailed. Madrid had capitulated without
striking a blow, and the Spanish legions had melted into
shadows. Eluding the snares set for him by the perfidy of
persons in high places and warned by the treacherous folly of
the British representative, Moore made up his mind to fall back
upon the coast. His force was so reduced that he had to
post his men on an inferior range of hills commanded by the
artillery fire of the enemy. But advantage of position and
superior numbers were of no avail against the gallantry of the
British. By a skillful move Moore managed to outflank the
left of the French columns sent to crush the infantry under
Baird. Centre and left became engaged and a furious fight
swept along the line. Hill and valley re-echoed with the
din of battle. Moore was in the forefront of the conflict
near the village of Elvina, against which the assault was
fiercest. Here a cannon shot struck him on the left
breast, shattering the shoulder to pieces, breaking the ribs
over the heart and tearing the muscles to shreds. Thrown
violently from his horse he gave no sign of the terrible nature
of his wound, but fixed his gaze steadily on the troops.
Only when he saw the thin red line advancing did he suffer
himself to be carried to the rear. The hilt of his sword
had entered the wound and an officer of his staff would have
removed it. "It is as well as it is", said the
dying soldier, "I had rather it should go out of the field
with me". Moore died as he had always wished to
die. "I hope my country will do me justice",
were among his last words. And England had reason to be
satisfied, for by his skill, his foresight, and his bravery, he
saved her army from destruction, and arrested the blow that
Napoleon aimed at the conquest of Spain. (extract
from British Battles 1898) |
|
| Fuentes D'Onoro, 1811
| "War, however adorned by splendid strokes of skill, is
commonly a series of errors and accidents". According
to the rules of the game, Wellington ought to have been
annihilated at Fuentes D'Onoro. Error and discord among
the staff of Massena, not less than the gallantry of British
soldiers, gave us the victory. The blockade of Almeida
formed no part of Wellington's plan for driving the French out
of the Peninsula. Yet, having invested the town, his
warlike spirit could not resist the temptation to oppose Massena
when he marched to its relief with a force greatly superior in
number and equipment. Fuentes D'Onoro, a village on the
banks of the river Duas Casas, was the key to the position, and
the French made two attempts to seize it. In the first
assault five battalions were driven from the streets and took
refuge on the higher ground. But the French did not remain
long in possession. A furious charge sent them headlong
over the river. On the following day Massena renewed the
attack with forty thousand infantry and five thousand
cavalry. His design was to hold in check the left of the
extended line of the British and Portuguese and to turn
the right. At the first shock the enemy's cavalry drove in
our outguards and cut off Ramsay's battery of horse
artillery. The crisis seemed desperate when there suddenly
occurred one of those incidents that make war glorious.
Napier describes it in words of unrivalled vigour and
picturesqueness. "The multitude became violently
agitated; an English shout pealed high and clear; the mass was
rent asunder, and Norman Ramsay burst forth sword in hand at the
head of his battery; his horses breathing fire stretched like
greyhounds along the plain; the guns bounded behind them like
things of no weight, and the mounted gunners followed close,
with heads bent low and pointed weapons, in desperate
career". Many gallant deeds were wrought that day by
friend and foe alike. Again and again Montbrun hovered
about Craufurd's squares but the solid rampart of bayonets held
him back. Meanwhile Drouet assailed the village with such
fury that Wellington was compelled to concentrate. All day
the battle raged among the houses and along the banks of the
stream and night found the lower part of Fuentes D'Onoro
abandoned by both combatants. Each claimed the victory,
but the fact remains that Massena did not relieve Almeida and
that he was recalled soon afterward. (extract
from British Battles 1898) |
|
| The Siege of Badajos, 1812
| The storming of Badajos is one of the most lurid incodents in
the Peninsular War. Five thousanf officers and men fell in
the siege, and of these three thousand five hundred were slain
in the assault. For some days the dauntless garrison of
French, Hessians, and Spaniards withstood the battering of siege
guns and sallied forth to harass the men who were compassing
their destruction with sap and rifle. Not even when the
bastion of Picurina was taken with terrible carnage did their
brave leader Phillipon lose heart. Wellington, fearing the
approach of Soult with a relieving army, ordered an assault, and
the British columns, divided into storming and firing parties,
advanced against the fortress from which they had been twice
driven with slaughter. The silence of the night was broken
only by the deep voiced sentinels who proclaimed from the
ramparts that all was well in Badajos. The rattle of
musketry roused the garrison and soon the heavens were rent with
deafening shouts, the clash of pike and bayonet, the roar of
bursting mines, the crash of falling ladders and the shrieks and
groans of the dying. Again and again the British strove
with scaling ladders to secure a foothold in the castle and on
the walls. Again and again the forlorn hopes dashed into
the breaches only to be rolled back in hideous ruin. At
last the castle was won, but ramparts and breaches were still
crowded with dark resolute figures and glittering arms.
The explosion of a mine tore to fragments the storming
parties. Heroic men dashed into their places, many to be
drowned in the deep ditch, others to be impaled on sword blades
fixed to ponderous beams, some to be shot and mangled with
grenade and powder barrel. But death and dauntless courage
were in vain. The assault had failed. At midnight
Wellington ordered his men to reform for a second attack.
An opening was found at last and, the ramparts gained, half a
battalion entered the town while others pushed along the walls
towards the breach. The streets were empty though
brilliantly illuminated and the murmur of voices floated through
latticed windows. It seemed as if some dire enchantment
had fallen upon the doomed city. Deep thunders rolled from
the ramparts where the French still stood at bay. But the
end was mercifully at hand. The breaches could no longer
be defended and the assailants poured through to complete the
victory, and to mar it with scenes of violence and rapine.
Phillipon, though wounded, succeeded in entering San Christoval
with a few hundred soldiers but surrendered next morning.
The storming of Badajos will long be memorable for deeds of
almost incredible valour and as an example of the awful power
that the British army bears with it. (extract
from British Battles 1898) |
|
| The Battle of Vittoria, 1813
| Vittoria is a notable example of patient strategy and valour.
King Joseph, seeing no escape from the impetuous pursuit of
Wellington, designed to give battle on the plains of
Burgos. Driven back in confusion, he resolved to make a
stand at Vittoria. The position was strong and well
chosen. A chain of mountains guarded the left, a rapid
river protected the right, and from the centre rose heights that
commanded the plain. Here the French, with seventy
thousand veterans and one hundred and fifty guns, prepared to
arrest the progress of the victorious British General.
Wellington's force was ninety thousand, but he was weak in
cavalry and artillery. Day dawned in rain and mist as the
allies moved forward in three divisions with Wellington in the
centre. Hill carried with a brilliant rush the heights on
which the enemy's left rested, while Graham assaulted the right
flank and the passage of the river was forced with such rapidity
that the allies were able to seize commanding ground before the
French were aware of their purpose. Victory swept along
the line and the road to France was threatened by the Spanish
division. Seeing his flanks in danger and his front
seriously menaced, Joseph Bonaparte gave the order to
retire. A few regiments gallantly held their ground and
opposed a desperate resistance to the advancing foe. Guns
thundered in front of them and a deadly storm of shot and shell
was hurled upon their flanks until they too broke and
fled. Pressing on with relentless vigour Wellington caught
the enemy in the midst of his dispositions for retreat.
The ground was difficult and broken, guns shook the hills and
filled the plain with fire and smoke, and a cloud of skirmishers
disputed every step. With feet bruised against the stumps
of trees the British advanced upon the routed enemy, rallying to
the standards as their officers planted them on each succeeding
ridge. Enveloped in the fog of war the French made good
their retreat, but only with terrible slaughter and the loss of
all their stores and plunder. One hundred and fifty guns,
two million rounds of ammunition and one million pounds of
coined money fell into the hands of the victors. King
Joseph escaped in disguise and the power of Napoleon in Spain
was broken. The victory had important political
consequences, for it strengthened the courage of Russia and
Prussia to resist the aggressions of Napoleon, whose downfall
may be dated from the Peninsular Campaign of 1812. (extract
from British Battles 1898) |
|
| The Battle of Toulouse, 1814
| Anxious to wipe out the disgrace of repeated defeat and to
vindicate the honour of the French arms, Marshal Soult fought
the battle of Toulouse although peace had been already declared
on the abdication of Napoleon. The city was defended by an
ancient wall and surrounded on three sides by the great canal of
Languedoc and the river Garonne. From the fourth side rose
a range of hills on which the French had built five redoubts
connected with the town by entrenchments. The position
looked impregnable and could be taken only by frontal
attack. Wellington did not shrink from the
enterprise. While General Picton held the enemy in check
on the road to Paris, the Spaniards assaulted the redoubts,
leaving the centre and right to the British. Covered by a
heavy cannonade and flanked by clouds of cavalry, the enemy
swept down like a torrent that threatened to overwhelm the
advancing allies. At the head of this avalanche rode
generals and field officers waving their hats and urging their
men with shouts to which the Highland Brigade replied with
ringing cheers. The onset was furious but our gallant
soldiers met the enemy at the charge and sweeping over the crest
of the hill captured the redoubt that had covered the
attack. Four other forts remained, and the order came to
carry them at the point of the bayonet. Without waiting
for their comrades who were toiling up the hill, part of the
42nd regiment dashed towards the batteries from which issued a
devastating storm of shot and shell. Of five hundred men
in this gallant charge only ninety reached the redoubts, from
which the French fled in hopeless confusion. Soult knew
that the possession of these fortresses must decide the issue,
and made a desperate effort to regain them. Rallying his
men he led them back in person and was repulsed with great
slaughter. "Ah, these are brave soldiers",
exclaimed the French Marshal, "I put them to the proof on
that day. I led the attack myself". The city
being now at the mercy of the allies, Soult marched out that
evening, and next morning it was learned that eight thousand men
had spilt their blood in vein, for peace had been declared some
days before, and Louis XVII was on the throne of the
usurper. Soult is suspected of having known this, though
the allies were in ignorance. Toulouse was the last battle
fought in this phase of the Napoleonic was, and will long be
memorable for the gallantry displayed by French and British
alike. (extract from British Battles 1898) |
|
| The Allies Before Paris, 1814
| Paris has witnessed many a scene of blood and has withstood
many a siege. Yet never in her chequered history has the
fair city faced such fearful odds as in that month of March when
one hundred thousand picked soldiers of Europe stood without her
gates. Napoleon was hurrying to the rescue with seventy
thousand veterans, and the citizens, rejecting all overtures of
peace, resolved to hold out to the last. Their army was in
a deplorable condition and so reduced that seventy battalions
could muster not more than eight thousand rank and file, and the
defenders numbered in all only thirty five thousand. Sad
at heart, yet not altogether without hope, they took up their
posts along that formidable line of heights which command the
approaches to the city. The struggle was fiercest around
Belleville, for that fort was the key to the position, and the
honour of assailing it was given to the Russains. So
fierce was the resistance that the issue was long in the
balance. Fifteen hundred Russians fell before
reinforcements arrived and the brave defenders were driven
back. Not less obstinate was the defence of Villette and
La Chapelle, against which the Prussians threw themselves in
vain till the soldiers of the Czar came to their rescue.
Finally the order was given for an attack along the whole
line. In one vast concave that stretched from Charenton on
the left to Neuilly on the right the Allies moved on the doomed
city. With the courage of despair the French strove to
arrest this torrent, but on it swept with irresistible fury to
the very gates of Paris. Shattered and broken the brave
remnant of the defenders sought refuge within the walls while
the rays of the sun gilded that six mile circle of steel which
held the city in its pitiless grasp. Seeing that further
resistance was hopeless, and desiring to avoid the horrors of an
assault, the French Marshals surrendered. Meanwhile
Napoleon was straining every nerve to reach the capital in
time. Urging forward his carriage until he was almost
without escort, he learned when within sight of the victors'
watchfires that Paris had fallen, and that he had begun his
pursuit of the enemy too late. With the fall of Paris
ended nearly twenty two years of rapine and bloodshed that had
reduced Europe to a shambles and shaken to its foundation the
social system of almost every civilised country. (extract
from British Battles 1898) |
|
| The Battle of Quatre Bras, 1815
| Napoleon's object was to divide the British and Prussian
armies in order that he might fall upon them separately.
How nearly he succeeded is told in the story of Ligny and Quatre
Bras. At these points were the allies under Wellington and
Blucher with an interval of eighteen miles between.
Napoleon determined that thus they should remain until he had
annihilated them. Turning upon the Prussians at Ligny, he
routed Blucher and forced him back. But Marshal Ney was
not so successful with the British and this masterly stroke
failed. At the junction of the roads that lead to
Brussels, on which the French were advancing, stood some
scattered buildings. Here the battle of Quatre Bras was
fought, for this humble farm was the strategic point on which
rested the peace of Europe and the overthrow of Napoleon.
The struggle was long and desperate and had Ney attacked earlier
and with vigour he might have made himself master of the
situation. Trusting to his superiority in cavalry and
artillery the French leader hurled his full force against the
British battalions, each of which bore in turn the shock of an
army. So furious was the assault that the Cuirassiers rode
upon the solid lines of bayonets with shouts of "Down with
the English! No Quarter!" Picton's division coming on
to the field in hot haste found the not very valorous Belgians
retiring in confusion before the enemy. Without halt or
pause the Black Watch dashed forward to the rescue, forcing a
path through a field of rye that rose to the tops of their
bonnets. The pursuit of the French was suddenly checked,
but the gallant Highlanders had pushed on too far, and,
mistaking the French Lancers for Brunswickers, were roughly
handled, few escaping death or wounds. Rallying they
formed in line with other regiments to receive and to repulse
another charge of Cuirassiers who fell upon their shattered
ranks with heavy horse and steel armour. The fight had
lasted an hour before Wellington came upon the scene and ordered
the Gordons to charge. Cameron, their leader, was mortally
wounded, but he "heard the wild hurrah of conquest ere he
fell". Nothing could resist the general advance, and
Ney was unable to secure the position on which so much seemed to
depend. But the advantage, dearly bought, had to be
abandoned, for Blucher had fallen back and Wellington had no
choice but to follow in order that the allies might no longer be
exposed to separate attack. Waterloo was the immediate
consequence of this retirement. (extract from
British Battles 1898) |
|
| The Duke of Wellington at Waterloo, 1815.
| Napoleon was now to measure himself against Wellington, and
British Soldiers who, in the words of his officers, were
"very devils to fight". They met at Waterloo,
and Europe watched, with tremulous anxiety, a contest that was
to give peace, or to put her under the heel of the
Conqueror. A range of hills, backed by a forest, offered
an admirable position for the army that was to oppose Napoleon's
advance on Brussels. The British, exhausted by the fight
at Quatre Bras, had lain on the battlefield in darkness and
rain. Blucher, with his Prussians, who had been repulsed
at Ligny, was marching to the scene of action, but was delayed
by the bad state of the roads and the weariness of his
men. Confident that his ally would arrive in time,
Wellington made his dispositions. The force under his
command was deficient in cavalry and artillery, and with the
infantry were only twelve thousand veterans. The rest were
raw militia who had never been under fire, and eighteen thousand
Belgians - "the worst army ever brought together", so
their leader himself described it. The ridge which the
British lined in grim silence extended on a font of two
miles. The right wing rested on a ravine, and between the
right and centre lay the house and farm of Hougoumont, while
immediately in front was the farm house known as La Haye
Sainte. Covering the left was the farm of La Haye - an
important position held by the Scottish and the
Hanoverians. The French looked down from the opposing
heights little more than a mile distant. With flags flying
and bands playing the inspiriting Marseillaise, they were an
imposing and picturesque array of martial power. Napoleon
had disposed his army in six parallel lines - two of infantry in
front, two of cuirassiers in gleaming breast plates, and two of
heavy cavalry, with the infantry of the guard in reserve.
From the hill of Rossome the Emperor looked on the scene of his
last battle, while Wellington, mounting his famous charger
"Copenhagen" made final preparations to resist the
impending assault. The scene and the character of the
leaders engaged were worthy of momentous issue to be
decided. Over the heights occupied by the British was a
hushed silence and nothing was seen save a few guns and
outposts. Before them in full and open view lay the war
worn veterans of France - the heroes of Austerlitz and Wagram -
waiting the signal that was to launch them against their
stubborn foes and to bring them death or glory. (extract
from British Battles 1898) |
|
| La Haye Sainte, 1815
| The battle began with an assault on Hougoumont, from which
Wellington had withdrawn the Dutch-Belgians an hour
before. "The mere name of Napoleon", he
remarked, "had beaten them before they fired a
shot". To hold this position was of supreme
importance, for its occupation by the French would have laid
open the British right and have made the heights
untenable. Column after column, led by Prince Jerome in
person, assailed the buildings, but Byng's brigade held fast
amid fire and shell. While Hougoumont was being fiercely
contested, the French opened a heavy cannonade along the front
and hurled against it heavy masses of cavalry and columns of
infantry in close formation. But the allies stood firm,
and horse and foot dashed in vain against the solid squares of
steel. Despairing of Hougoumont, Napoleon directed a
vigorous attack on the left, but was repulsed by the Highlanders
who fought like titans. One more position was open to
assault - the farm of La Haye Sainte, almost in the centre of
the allies' front. If the Emperor could seize this point
he might hope not only to cut off all means of escape but to
prevent any junction with the Prussians. To Marshal Ney
was entrusted this perilous enterprise. A division of
cavalry, under the celebrated Kellermann, poured through the gap
between Hougoumont and La Haye Sainte. Eighteen thousand
footmen - the flower of the French army - swept into the valley
with Ney at their head. Seventy four guns bounded forward
to within seven hundred yards of the allied lines and the
heights shook and smoked and flamed under their deadly
storm. The Belgians did not wait to receive the attack, at
the sight of this advancing avalanche they turned and
fled. But the gallant Picton was at hand with two British
Brigades - three thousand men all told. Drawn up in two
deep lines they turned grimly upon the foe. "A
volley, a charge!" were Picton's last words, and with a
wild hurrah the glittering line of steel pressed onward.
Reeling under the shock the French had no time to recover before
the Union brigade of cavalry - the Royals, the Scots Greys, and
the Inniskillins - were upon them like a whirlwind leaving death
and wounds in its wake. On they swept up to the cannon's
mouth, sabring the gunners and capturing the seventy four field
pieces with which Marshal Ney had sought to cover his
advance. But the pursuit was carried too far and a charge
of French lancers threatened to retrieve the disaster to their
country's arms. Then the Household Brigade threw
themselves upon the steel clad lines and the flower of French
cavalry, shattered and broken, fell before the shock. La
Haye Sainte was saved. (extract from British
Battles 1898) |
|
| The Victory at Waterloo
| Napoleon, baffled but undaunted, had still resources enought
to make Wellington pray for night or Blucher. Toiling
forward through treacherous swamps the Prussians appeared on the
distant horizon and the Emperor knew that he must make the
supreme effort now or never. Once more the cavalry moved
down the slope of the hill and formed for a charge on the
British right and centre. Squadron upon squadron of
gleaming helmets and breast plates rode on with dauntless
courage and drove back the gunners who opposed their
onrush. But the steel tipped squares were as rocks against
which the waves descended in vain. For a moment it seemed
as though the fortune of Napoleon was again in the ascendent.
La Haye Sainte, so heroically defended, was taken, and the
Emperor saw that the moment had come to put forth his whole
strength. Summoning his Old Guard of tried veterans, whose
motto was "Death before surrender", he placed them
nder Ney's command, and bidding them "God speed",
watched them descend the hill and advance against the British
right. Shot and shell tore through their ranks yet they
moved on steadily, Ney leading on foot, for his horse had been
shot under him. Nearer and nearer they drew to the slope
on which the British lay silent and watchful. Then there
rang out - clear and true on the storm rocked air the cry that
will thrill through the ages, "Up Guaerds and at
them!" It was Wellington's voice, and, like
bloodhounds freed from the leash, the Guards sprang to their
feet. One volley and then a charge! What power on
earth could resist them! Napoleon's veterans broke up and
fled. A second column of the Imperial Guard strove to
renew the attack, and its fate was not less pitiless. But
Napoleon was not yet beaten. Rallying his stricken Guards
he prepared for another assault. Wellington, however, had
determined to take the offensive and gave the order for a
general advance. Up sprang his soldiers, following hard on
the heels of the Iron Duke who went forward heedless of
danger. "Never mind", was his answer to
remonstrance, "The battle is won and my life is no
consequence now". Yes, the battle was won and Europe
was freed from the shadow of military despotism. Before
that terrible onset the French army was shattered and fled in
confusion that swept with it the gallant remnant of the Old
Guard. Napoleon would have chosen death on the field, had
not Soult seized his bridle with the words : "Sire, have
not the enemy had luck enough". The Prussians arrived
in time to take up the pursuit and to add despair to
panic. At La Haye Sainte, consecrated by the blood of
heroic French and British, Blucher met and congratulated the
victor of Waterloo. (extract from British Battles
1898) |
|
| Battle of Alma, 1854
| Forty years of peace ended on the banks of the Alma where the
Russians waited to oppose the advance of the French and British
on Sebastopol. Entrenched on the heights, with the river
in front, Prince Mentschikoff believed the position to be
impregnable. And he had reason for the faith that was in
him, seeing that the precipitous ridge was strengthened with
forts and earthworks and defended by one hundred guns and twelve
thousand men. To take such a position by assault seemed
impossible, but those were days when all things were possible to
British soldiers. The plan of attack was simple and
hazardous. The French were to seize the heights on the
enemy's left, leaving the British to force the right and centre
as soon as the assault on the left had developed. Long and
weary were these moments of anticipation during which our
artillery wrought great devastation, while our infantry lay upon
the ground impatient and eager for action. At last Lord
Raglan uttered the word of command and the thin red line dashed
into the river under a storm of shot and shell. Then began
one of the most bloody and determined struggles in the annals of
war. Slain by scores and checked again and again our
gallant fellows never shrank or fell back. Sir George
Brown, leading the light division in a charge up the hill, came
to the aid of the hard pressed brigades in the centre under
Evans, Pennefather and Adams. On the left the Highlanders
and the Guards were advancing as if on parade, encouraged by the
voice and example of their leader, the Duke of Cambridge.
But gallantry seemed unavailing against such fearful odds and
the day might have ended in disaster but for the mistake made by
the Russian General. Not content with his advantage as
defender, Prince Mentschikoff must needs assume the offensive
and send forward an army of infantry to drive back the
assailants. This was Lord Raglan's opportunity and he
seized it with characteristic energy and promptitude. The
guns opened a terrible fire on the dense masses of footmen who
wavered and broke over the crest of the hill. Another
moment and Sir Colin Campbell, with his Highlanders, was in
possession of the enemy's guns, and the guards had rushed the
position on the right. Well might Lord Raglan exclaim,
"Look how the Guards and Highlanders advance!"
All attempts to rally the Russians failed. Their flight
was hastened by their own guns which the victors turned upon the
fugitives, and after two hours' hard fighting the Heights of
Alma were added to the glories of the British Arms. (extract
from British Battles 1898) |
|
| Charge of the Heavy Brigade
| "Remember there is no retreat, men, you must die where
you stand". To these words of their leader, Sir Colin
Campbell, the gallant 93rd made answer "Ay, ay Sir Colin,
we'll do it". Five hundred and fifty against twenty
four thousand and Balaclava to defend - the sole means of
communication with the fleet and the one source of
supplies! Suddenly in the valley below appeared the
Russians driving the Turks before them. On the crest of
the last hillock they saw the thin red line of Scots and halted
in wonderment. Then they came on and men and horses rolled
over under the shock or fled in dismay. Re-forming in the
valley the Russians turned upon the Heavy Brigade under Scarlett.
Three hundred sabres were drawn to meet them and Scots Greys and
Inniskillens rode forward at a gallop. Straight for the
centre of this terrible line they went and, as lightning flashed
through a black cloud, they pierced the dark mass of
Muscovites. Scarlet and green and blue and grey - glint of
steel and spark of lance - a wild chaos, and Greys and redcoats
were engulfed in the broken ranks of the enemy. Through
the first line they won their desperate way, more like devils
than men they fought, cutting down the Russians like
sheep. A second deep line was in front, but on they
dashed, undismayed, with diminished numbers. To those who
looked on, breathless, it seemed as if the two regiments must be
overwhelmed and wiped out. But the audacity and fierceness
of the charge told. "We were into them" wrote
Lord Lucan, "and the devil could not get us away from
them". Three more regiments remained - the Royals and
the 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards. To them came the word of
command, and, with a cheer that echoed the wild thoughts of
every man, they threw themselves upon the disordered ranks of
the enemy. "We flung ourselves into the very heart of
the Muscovites", are the words of one who took part in this
fight of heroes : "Now we were lost in their ranks - anon
in little bands battling - now in good order together, now in
and out, until the whole Heavies on the spot plunged into the
forming body of the enemy and helped us to end the
fight." Not until the Russians had fled, leaving
behind a plain covered with dead, did the Heavy Brigade stay
their hand or listen to the bugle call "Rally".
Lord Raglan and his staff were spectators of this heroic
combat. Well might Colin Campbell say : "Gallant
Greys, I am sixty one years old, but if I were young again I
should be proud to be in your ranks." (extract
from British Battles 1898) |
|
| The Battle of Inkerman, 1854
| The siege of Sebastopol teemed with tragic episodes and
Inkerman was one of the most tragic of them. As Henry
Russell says, "The Battle of Inkerman admits no
description. It was a series of dreadful deeds of daring,
of sanguinary hand to hand fights, of despairing rallies, of
desperate assaults in glens and valleys, in brushwood glades and
remote dells, hidden from all human eyes." The
besiegers were themselves threatened with investment, and once
more it was necessary to defend, at all costs, the communication
with the sea. Worn out by continual fighting, half starved
and exposed to the severities of a Russian winter, the British
faced the enemy reinforced by fifty thousand men. The
attack was sudden and fierce, and the Muscovites were at last
confident that they would drive the invaders into the sea.
Under cover of darkness they stole out of the city and in
silence approached the British right. A shot from a
surprised picket was the first warning, and the soldiers sprang
from their sleep into a hand to hand fight against overwhelming
numbers. Shoulder to shoulder they stood firm and resolute
while the Russian batteries hurled death among them. A
detachment charged up the hill to a redoubt in possession of the
enemy. Again and again they were repulsed and again and
again they came on until this little fort had about it a rampart
of dead. The Duke of Cambridge led the Guards to the
assault and a few hundred Coldstreamers held the redoubt against
six thousand. They fought till the ground was wet with
blood, and ammunition was exhausted. Then clubbing rifles
they burts through the enemy's ranks and regained the Household
Brigade. Cathcart's division advanced over the body of
their leader, pierced by a bullet as he gave the word of
command. With the courage of despair the Russians fought,
meeting heroism with heroism. Their reserves seemed
inexhaustible. No sooner was one regiment destroyed than
anotherappeared. And so the struggle went on - the
bloodiest in history. It looked as though the sheer weight
and numbers of the enemy must prevail. But Canrobert was
at hand. With Zouaves, infantry, and artillery he assailed
the flanks of the Russians, till with a wail of despair they
broke and fled, leaving us the victory and our heaped up slain. (extract
from British Battles 1898) |
|
| Charge of the Light Brigade, 1854
| History has no finer example of romantic courage and devotion
than the charge of the Six Hundred. How it came about is a
mystery. Some one had blundered - that is the only
explanation. When Lord Lucan received the order he put the
question, "where are we to advance?" Captain
Nolan. who was the bearer of General Avery's commands, pointed
to the Russian army posted behind thirty heavy guns, and Lord
Lucan reluctantly ordered Lord Cardigan to advance with the
Light Brigade. Greater discipline and daring no men have
shown, than this handful of horsemen who rode into the valley of
death. Before them stretched a plain one and a half miles
long, and beyond it lay the Russian Army with their heavy
artillery in front and on both flanks. To cross that plain
meant death, swift and terrible. But the Light Brigade
shrank not from the attempt. The morning sun gleamed on
lance and sabre as the troopers closed ranks and turned their
faces toward the enemy. They rode forward in two lines,
regardless of the guns that raked them from a redoubt on the
right. On they swept proudly - the flower of three
Kingdoms. "Cannon to right of them, cannon to left of
them, volleyed and thundered," yet they rode on. Shot
and shell tore through the ranks, but the gaps were filled with
never a halt. Nearer and nearer they came to the enemy,
and darker and denser grew the shadow of death pierced by the
lightning of cannon. Thick and fast they fell, but still
they rode on, Lord Cardigan leading with drawn sword like a
Paladin of old. Above the din of battle was heard Lord
George Paget's cry "Now, my brave lads, for Old
England! Conquer or die!" With a cheer, that
was the death knell of many a brave fellow, they threw
themselves upon the gaping muzzles of the guns, sabring the
gunners as they stood. Then on again, their desperate
course unchecked by the mass of Russian cavalry through which
they rode with blood and wounds in their train. A column
of infantry was scattered like chaff before a whirlwind, and
then came the order to retire. Out of the valley of death
rode not two hundred. Once again they had to run the
gauntlet of cannon to right, and left, and rear. Nor was
that all. Cavalry charged them on the flank, but the 8th
Hussars arrested this movement, heading straight for the enemy
until friend and foe were a struggling heap on which the
Russians turned their remorseless guns. "Men! it is a
mad brained trick, but no fault of mine", exclaimed Lord
Cardigan. Of the six hundred and seventy three, only one
hundred and ninety five came back to the British lines. Of
one hundred and twelve Light Dragoons - the 13th - only ten
remained in the saddle after the charge, and of the 17th Lancers
only thirty four. (extract from British Battles
1898) |
|
| Campaign in China, 1860
| Chin has had many lessons, but none have been lasting.
One of the severest was the retribution that followed the
outrage on a British envoy sent under escort to secure the
ratification of the treaty of Tienstin. Ten thousand
British and five thousand French troops landed near the famous
Taku Forts. Advancing through dreary marshes across which
was a single path that a resolute enemy might have held against
all odds, the allies found themselves face to face with a horde
of Tartar cavalry. For a time they endured our artillery
fire, and then dividing threatened a flank attack. But
arrows and spears and matchlocks were of no avail against
western arms, and the fierce horsemen fled to the shelter of the
forts. Against these sullen and silent walls the assault
was directed. The embrasures were masked and not a soldier
was to be seen on the ramparts. Sir James Hope Grant
offered to accept the capitulation of the forts on terms, but
his overtures were rejected with insolence and the bombardment
began. The first breach was large enough to admit one man,
and that was enough, for the storming party pressed through in
single file and drove the garrison before it. Resistance
was in vain. At sight of their comrades hurled pell-mell
through the embrasures into ditches of mud and banks of pointed
bamboo stakes, the soldiers in the second fort gave in without a
struggle, and the contest was over. The country on the
banks of the Peiho as far as Tienstin surrendered
unconditionally, and news came from Pekin that the Emperor was
ready to concede our demands. But this was merely a ruse
to inveigle our envoy, and his escort, into the interior where
they might be disposed of easily. The plot was discovered,
and the allies continued their march on the capital.
Reduced by sickness and by the necessity of protecting their
communications the force did not exceed three thousand five
hundred. Clouds of Tartar horsemen harassed the advance,
and thirty thousand Chinese soldiers lay across the path in an
entrenched position. The fight with these was short and
sharp, yet victory did not open the way to Pekin. It was
necessary to await the arrival of reinforcements and of the
heavy siege train that was to batter down the walls of the city
- walls thirty feet high, protected by towers and defended by
one hundred thousand men. The Chinese, however, had no
wish to see the effect of artillery. The summer palace was
quickly in the hands of the allies, and was soon looted of its
treasures and ornaments. The imperial family had fled and
the Emperor's domestic goods were sold under the walls of his
palace by the "despicable barbarians" whom he had
threatened to drive into the sea. One of the city gates
was surrendered, and the French marched through with colours
flying and drums beating. The prisoners were released,
many of them showing signs of the inhuman treatment to which
they had been subjected. The late Lord Loch was one of
these. He had been carried about the country and exhibited
in a cage. Lord Wolseley stopped five carts containing the
bodies of murdered Europeans, and Pekin would undoubtedly have
been sacked had not a pledge been given. Lord Elgin,
however, ordered the summer palace to be destroyed, and it was
with infinite satisfaction the soldiers gave to the flames the
famous abode of the Chinese Emperor. |
|
| The Abyssinian War, 1868
| Few wars have sprung from causes so insignificant as those
that involved us in the was with Abyssinia. The neglect of
the British Government to reply to a despatch, in which Theodore
stated his reasons for dismissing our representative, so
incensed the Emperor that he threw several of our countrymen
into prison. To rescue them and to teach this ambitious
African potentate a lesson, Napier was sent with a punitive
force of nineteen thousand men. When the news came to
Theodore he exclaimed "By the power of God I will meet them
and if I do not beat them call me a woman". He had an
army of one hundred and fifty thousand fighting men and a
country that offered many natural defences against an
invader. Happily for the success of the expedition
Theodore's power was on the wane. His overtaxed subjects
had risen in rebellion in many districts and his soldiers were
deserting in considerable numbers. The neighbouring tribes
against whom the Emperor had waged ruthless war were prompt to
assist in his overthrow. The King of Tigre came to the
British camp with a large following and was welcomed by Napier,
who expressed his pleasure at finding a Christian King in the
heart of Africa. The task to be accomplished was to march
thirty two thousand men, including transport and followers, with
ten thousand baggage animals, through four hundred miles of
mountainous country that had never been traversed by civilised
soldiers since hill and valley echoed with the trumpets and
atabals of the Persians in the sixth century. Napier
followed in the tracks of Ptolemy and came across some traces of
that old world adventure. The difficulties were enormous,
for guns and transport had to be hauled along the face of hills
where a single false step would have hurled man and horse into
fathomless depths. Tumbling and stumbling over a sea of
hills, now along smooth slippery rocks, now ascending steep
paths covered with loose boulders, crashing through dense bush,
Napier was often content with a march of nine miles in one
day. Two hundred mules and camels died every week and
there were often as many as fourteen hundred disabled animals at
one time. Each footman was compelled to carry fifty five
pounds weight in addition to his equipment, so that his toil was
excessive. But British patience and endurance knew no
limit and in due course the expeditionary force arrived at
Dildee, twenty five miles from Magdala, where Theodore was
prepared to give battle. From this point it was necessary
to make a detour of sixty miles in order to reach the
enemy. So many an great were the obstacles encountered in
this Switzerland of Africa that Napier's successful and
brilliant march must have made it an axiom of war that no
country is impracticable to a determined and resourceful army. |
|
| Capture of Magdala, 1868
| At last Magdala appeared like a great ship with sails
outspread upon a billowy sea of mountains. The spirits of
our men rose at sight of the impregnable rock. East and
west, far as the eye could reach stretched precipitous cliffs,
and in their midst frowned the mighty fort. Tents covered
the plateau above, and down the winding track rolled a torrent
of horsemen. They met in the plain - five thousand brave
barbarians against the trained bands of England, armed for the
first time with breech loading rifles. Again and again the
Abyssinians dashed upon the unflinching lines until, rent and
torn, the fled in dismay. Theodore saw that his hour had
come, and sought to make terms. The European prisoners
were released and sent to the British camp. But the
Emperor refused to surrender Magdala and Napier was resolved
upon its capture. Theodore was confident that it could not
be carried by assault, so strong were the natural defences and
the number of the guns worked by German captives. The
lower hills from which the rock sprang were fortified, and must
be taken before Magdala itself could be assailed. Most of
the approaches seemed inaccessible, and a handful of men might
have swept an army out of the path by hurling stones and rocks
down the sides of the mountain. But the sortie of his
bravest soldiers had weakened the long line of defence and
several points were exposed. In seven days the lower hills
- Fahla and Salamgi - yielded, and thirty thousand men, women
and children marched into the plain driving before them great
flocks of sheep and many donkeys laden with stores. These
strongholds were soon occupied, and preparations were made for
an attack on the rock itself. Salvoes of rockets were
hurled among the guns a thousand feet above. Artillery
battered at the gate and under cover of the shells a party of
sappers moved forward to clear the way. A mine was sprung
and this obstacle was shattered into fragments, disclosing a
narrow flight of stone steps with another gate. This also
was destroyed and the advance began. A dozen men toiling
up the steep ascent came upon a score of guns which the Emperor
had failed to get into the fort and had abandoned in
haste. Once through the second gate and Magdala lay at our
mercy. The Abyssinians had thrown away their arms and
received us with offers of peace. Upon the tended plateau
beyond lay the body of Theodore. He would not live to be
"called a woman" and had taken his own life.
Within the fortress were many native prisoners in chains and the
corpses of over three hundred captives whom the savage Emperor
had put to death before the eyes of the Europeans. Having
reduced the fort to a blackened and desolate rock, Napier
retraced his steps to the Red Sea. Thus ended an
expedition which Lord Beaconsfield compared to the advance of
Cortez into the heart of Mexico. The capture of Magdala
was in itself a notable feat of arms, but the march through this
wild and mountainous country was an even greater proof of the
determination and endurance of our soldiers, who were animated
by the knowledge that upon their efforts depended the lives of
their countrymen and the honour of their race. |
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| Occupation of Coomassie, 1873 - 74
| For two centuries the British flag has waved over the Gold
Coast, and generations of men have faced death and disease to
secure it among our possessions. Time after time we have
defended it against the inroads of savages, of whom the most
formidable were the Ashantis. In 1873 an army of these
warlike barbarians marched towards the coast, burning,
plundering, and murdering, until they came within twelve miles
of Cape Coast Castle. Hastily collecting a body of armed
men, the Glovernor, Colonel Harley, went out against the enemy
and defeated them with slaughter. But the danger was only
arrested and later in the year Lord Wolseley was sent with a
well equipped force to vindicate the authority of the Crown and
to punish King Koffee. The theatre of these operations was
a jungle so dense that the sun never dried the reeking
earth. Through this deadly and almost impenetrable forest,
with its rank undergrowth, our soldiers had to work their way,
often in single file. Concealed in the bush lurked the
enemy, crafty and brave, and directed by a chief of remarkable
courage and ability. It was like fighting an unseen foe in
the twilight, and made great demands on the steadiness and self
confidence of every individual. But each man felt himself
more than a match for twenty savages armed with flint locks that
fired slugs and stones which were harmless beyond fifty yards
range. The first real stand was at Amoaful, where for five
hours our men crept through the dark brush, firing into an
invisible enemy. From that point there was no organised
resistance, though scattered parties continued to oppose our
progress. The Black Watch led the way to Coomassie, never
halting nor wavering until they came in sight of the rocky
eminence on which lay the capital, encircled by a deep
forest. Lord Gifford was the first to enter this charnel
house, for though the streets were broad and clean, and shaded
by beautiful banyan trees, they reeked with the stench of human
sacrifice. Coomassie was indeed a metropolis of
murder. The chief occupation of the king and delight of
the people was to witness the slaughter of slaves and captives,
and many had been slain in order to propitiate the gods.
King Koffee had fled, leaving behind a large number of prisoners
chained to heavy logs and the kraal in which lived his three
thousand three hundred and three wives. Lord Wolseley
offered to spare the city if he would return and submit, but the
King escaped into the interior whither he knew we would not care
to follow. It was accordingly determined to destroy his
capital in order to leave behind a visible mark of our vengeance
upon a government the most atrocious that ever existed on the
face of the earth. The destruction of the city proved a
fatal blow to the power of the Ashantis as a nation. |
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| Battle of Ulundi, 1879
| Cetewayo, installed in power by the British, immediately
became fired with the ambition of conquest. The Zulus,
over whom he ruled, are a martial race, and he had no difficulty
in making them a nation of soldiers. Their raids into
Natal rendered it necessary to organise a punitive expedition,
and three British columns marched into Zululand by different
routes. Success was not always on our side. At
Isandula, on January 22nd, the British camp was surprised and
attacked by fifteen thousand warriors, and we suffered
heavily. The heroic defence of Rorke's Drift was on the
same day, and on the 24th, Sir Evelyn Wood won a victory at
Inkanyana. In Mach a convoy was cut to pieces near Intombi
River and Prince Napoleon was killed, but in July the battle of
Ulundi broke the power of the Zulu nationand sent Cetewayo a
captive to London. Ulundi was the king's kraal and lay in
an amphitheatre of hills flanked by two great military
kraals. Upon this position the British advanced in hollow
square. Halting within a mile of the kraal this imposing
force offered battle. Before them were ranged thirty
thousand dauntless savages armed with assegais, rifles, and oval
shields of stout ox hide. Lord Chelmsford's object was to
draw them on to the square and a score of mounted irregulars
were accordingly sent forward. The lure was a
success. Enraged at the taunts of this handful of men, the
Zulus began to advance. The morning sun gleamed on bayonet
and assegai as the enemy came on, extending their formation so
that they might envelop and crush the square. Like the
waves of a troubled sea, they rolled across the plain, chanting
their war song until the air reverberated with that wild weird
music which none having heard can ever forget. A tempest
of lead and iron received them, and the shriek of shell mingled
with their death cry. If for a moment they wavered of fell
back it was only to come on once more with fierce and dauntless
stride. But courage was vain against that quadruple line
of steel, to approach which was certain death. One chief,
more daring or more skilled than the rest, dashed his warriors
upon the right rear angle of the square and threatened a hand to
hand fight - bayonet against assegai. But the guns were
soon at work and rolled them back under a storm of
shrapnel. At last the savage hordes began to waver.
"Go at them, Lowe," was the order, and Drury-Lowe led
his lancers out of the square at a gallop. An ambush
checked their charge and emptied many a saddle. Another
moment and lance and sabre pierced and rent the black
mass. Yet the fight went on until the King's Dragoons and
a flying column advanced and drove the stubborn remnant of the
enemy into the hills and gave Ulundi to the flames. From
this blow the Zulus, once the masters of South Africa, have
never recovered. |
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| The Battle of Futtehabad, 1879
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