The Battle of Waterloo, fought during the Napoleonic Wars and thought to be the deciding battle to stop Napoleon's armies.

WATERLOO, 18 June 1815

We'd like to thank Ian Fletcher, renowned military author on the Peninsula and Waterloo, for his contribution to our website.

Battle of Waterloo:

The Life Guards at Waterloo

On April 27th 1815, the Life Guards again left London for the Continent, on their way to one of the most tremendous battles of modern times. On the 17th June, information reached Wellington that the Prussian Army, under Blucher, had been defeated on the previous day at Ligny. This defeat was prophesied by the Duke, who said, when he saw the disposition of his troops the Prussian General was making, "The Prussians will get most damnably licked!" Wellington therefore resolved to fall back through Quatre Bras, so as to enable him to keep u communications with Blucher. The cavalry took up a position to cover the retreat, and to check the French advance guard a Hussar regiment charged some French Lancers which were supported by a body of Cuirassiers, in the town of Genappe, but they were repulsed; they were too light for the purpose. The 1st Life's were thereupon launched at the enemy. They charged in column, the rear rank of the rear troop charging first. The big heavy stalwart troopers made very short work of the Frenchmen, and so effectually stopped their approach that the army was enabled to take up its position on the plain of Waterloo unmolested. In fact they not only held the French cavalry in check, but absolutely scattered the body in every direction; and even pursued them, and inflicted great slaughter among them all through a neighbouring village. The Life Guards then marched on and rejoined the main body of the army in front of the village of Waterloo.

The night of 17th June was full of misery. The rain poured down incessantly, drenching man and beast alike. Thunderstorms raged heavily from time to time, and the army was thoroughly well soaked to the skin. The troopers wearied with the fighting of the day, had no shelter for themselves or their horses, and rested as best they might. There was not much attempt at encampment, for it was pretty generally understood that the next day would be fraught with momentous issues. So the men grumbled the night away and took what cat naps they could, and when the reveille was sounded at the break of day there was no inducement for the sluggard to resist its summons. There was much to do ere the troops were set in battle array; swords to rub up, horses to be groomed, uniforms to be coaxed into some sort of order, and it was not until 10 minutes to 12 on that every memorable Sunday morning that the first gun was fired from the French centre.

What a striking difference there was on that summer Sunday morning in England and in Belgium! At home, the people of every town and village were in church putting up heartfelt prayers for the safety of their loved ones, fathers, sons and sweethearts, who were fighting far away in a foreign land, peace and calm pervading the warm June air, and the sun shining over all. While there on the rain-soaked plain of Waterloo, there stood two armies facing each other, with the sting and reek of gunpowder in their nostrils, and the lust of war in their hearts.

The French at once commenced the battle with a furious attack on the farmhouse of Hougomont, held by the Guards under Byng, and simultaneously Ney attacked the British centre with 20,000 men. the French pushed fiercely on. Wellington's first line was shaken, and in parts broken, while a whirl of cuirassiers charged up to the very crest of the British position. The moment was critical. The pressure on the infantry was simply tremendous, and for a moment it seemed as though disaster had befallen. Then the Scotch and Irish regiments dashed at the enemy, led by the gallant General Picton, who was shot at the head of his troops with the roar of battle resounding in his dying ears. At the same moment the Scots Greys and Inniskillings were hurled at the French by Sir William Ponsonby, and as they passed through Pictons Brigade, some of the Scotch regiments broke ranks and clinging to the stirrup leathers, charged along with them. The enemy were thrown into the utmost confusion.

All this time the First Cavalry Brigade, consisting of the 1st and 2nd Life Guards, the Blues and the 1st Dragoon Guards, were standing still, chaffing at their inaction and longing for the time when they too, might come to close quarters with the enemy. While they were acting the part of spectators of the stirring events that were going on before them in the plain below, let us look at the Life Guards. Great big stalwart fellows they were, not a man under six feet in his boots, mounted on magnificent black horses standing sixteen hands. Their burly frames were clothed in double breasted scarlet coatees, with a scarlet and yellow sash around the waist, and trousers of a blueish mixture with a red stripe running down the outside seam; brass helmets were on their heads with a huge red and white woollen crest and tall straight scarlet and white plumes on the left side of the head-dress. The officers were dressed like the men, but with gold lace on the cuffs and collar, and with black shabraques, the men having white saddle cloths. Each man was armed with a long straight sword, carbine and pistols.

The French renewed the attack, this time supported by their cavalry. The British infantry was formed into squares, on came the French surging up the hillside, the French cavalry actually surmounting the ridge and charging nearly up to where Wellington had taken up his station. The infantry reserved their fire until the cuirassiers were almost upon them, and then each square belched forth sheets of flame. The French cavalry reeled. Wellington seized the psychological moment and ordered the First Cavalry Brigade to charge. The Heavies deployed and advanced in line, the Life Guards on either flank, the 1st Dragoon Guards in the centre, with the Blues in reserve. They halted a few minutes, about 100 yards from the enemy to "dress", the troopers settled themselves in their saddles and then, as the trumpets crashed out with brazen voice, the whole Brigade charged in line. The French cavalry, unlike our men, wore cuirasses and used a longer sword, but such was the terrific onrush of the Heavies that they could not stand the tremendous shock. Horses and men went down like poppies in a hurricane. Nothing could withstand them; the Frenchmen were fairly ridden over, and before long were going helter-skelter down the hill, utterly discomfited.

This portion of the charge was shared by the 1st Life Guards and the Dragoon Guards on the left. The 2nd Life Guards were opposed to the flower of the French cavalry, the famous Carabiniers a Cheval, every man of whom was selected from the ranks of the Army at large for individual bravery. As they charged the British they were thrown into confusion. In their path was a hollowway - the sunken road of Ohain- and before speed could be slackened the foremost ranks went crashing down on to the road 15 feet below, a writhing mutilated mass of men and horses. As soon as what was left of them had scrambled up the opposite bank and had reformed in some sort of order, the 2nd Life Guards raced down upon them. Without waiting for the impact, the French turned and fled across the Charleroi Road. But the Guards went after them and continued the pursuit so hotly and impetuously that they pretty nearly made an end of the entire cuirassier regiment, and absolutely penetrated the French first line. Captain Kenyan's troop actually captured a battery, and endeavoured to carry it off. But they had gone too far. A body of Lancers outnumbering the Life Guards three times over, attacked them and they were besides exposed to the fire of several columns of infantry. They had, therefore, to retreat hastily, after accomplishing- what had never before been attempted, much less achieved - the total defeat of the French Cuirassiers.

Among the many gallant soldiers that took part in this memorable charge of the 2nd Life Guards, one man was elevated by the people into a popular hero. Who has not heard of Shaw the Lifeguardsman? John Shaw was a corporal in the 2nd Life's, and began his career as a prize fighter. He was a Nottingham man and fought his first fight in his own village Woolaston. So pluckily did he stand up under the mauling he was getting from a much more powerful man, that he excited the admiration of Jem Belcher, then a noted "pug". Show won his first battle and then came up to London and enlisted in the regiment. He defeated the celebrated Molyneaux, and just before he went on active service he gave a pugilist named Painter a most terrible drubbing, knocking him down ten times in succession. It will be seen that a man in habitual hard training, with muscles like steel ropes, and a thorough knowledge of how to use his sword, was quite fitted to perform astonishing feats of valour.

When his regiment came into contact with the French horsemen, Shaw selected his man and rising in his stirrups, cut his opponent through the helmet right down to the chin. During the day he is said to have killed at least nine Frenchmen. But the stalwart trooper met his death towards the close of the battle. In the last charge but one made by his regiment, Shaw was surrounded by a dozen of the enemy. He made a gallant stand and when his sword snapped close to the hilt, it is said that he took off his helmet and used it as a cestus, hitting out from the shoulder with the brass weapon, until he was cut down.

Charge after charge was made by the French cavalry, and attack upon attack was delivered by all arms. A tremendous cannonade would be opened, followed by a whirlwind of horsemen, which masked the advance of divisions of infantry. But all to no purpose. The 1st Cavalry Brigade charged again and again, until men and horses alike drooped and were wearied, almost exhausted. Then came the end. Napoleon caused his entire army to advance. The long suffering British squares dissolved into line. They fired one volley then charged. The Foot Guards furious with long restrained passion, rushed on the leading divisions. These wavered, fell back; the British charged home with the bayonet. The cavalry came up, and overwhelmed, utterly and entirely defeated, the French fell back.

At that moment the Duke shut his glass with a snap and said: "The field is won. Order the whole line to advance. Let the Life Guards charge." And the Life Guards did charge! Scattered and flying the French retreated. Napoleon and his brother Jerome tried to stop them , but without success. Cambronne's brigade of the Old Guard alone stood firm. They formed into square and defied the victorious British. Vivian's Hussars charged them, surrounded them on every face of the square. But they refused to surrender. A pause ensued, dramatic in its intensity, while both sides glared at each other. Then at the sight of Napoleon's veteran soldiers, the ever victorious Old Guard, standing defiant to the last, and awaiting total annihilation with dignified composure, the British gave a great cheer of admiration for their heroic bravery.

At that precise moment, the Life Guards swept down upon the stubborn square and dispersed and cut it to pieces, very few of its component parts being left to swell the tide of retreat. All semblance of order was lost in what remained of the French army. A panic set in "Sauve qui Peut!" was the universal cry, and what was, only a few hours previously, one of the finest armies the world had seen, was simply one vast undistinguishable mass. The allied squadrons, the Heavies always in front, gave them no respite, and shattered their flanks and rear, and completed the awful rout. The Duke of Wellington rode up to the Life Guards after the battle and thanked them for their distinguished bravery.

They had 108 men and 217 horses killed during the day. The Duke himself was in considerable danger at one time. An eyewitness records that the French cavalry charged to within fifty yards of the Commander-in-Chief, as he stood with only one Aide-de-camp left out of all his staff, the rest being either killed or wounded, in a square of the Foot Guards.

Napoleon's tactics at Waterloo were described by Wellington in a letter to Marshal Beresford: 

"Napoleon did not manoeuvre at all, he just moved forward in the old style. I had the infantry for some time in squares, and we had the French cavalry walking about us as if they had been our own."

During the progress of the battle several of the Headquarter Staff endeavoured to extract from Wellington what his plans were incase he, himself, was killed. But the Duke took no manner of notice until at last he said: "I have no plan. They must be defeated."

When Picton's dead body was carried off the field there was found in his pocket a commission appointing him Commander-in-Chief of the British forces in the event of Wellington's death. The Life Guards marched with the army to Paris, which was occupied by the allies, and at the beginning of 1816 embarked for England.    (Excerpt from The Navy and Army Gazette October 1st 1896  by G F Bacon)

Grenadier Guards at Waterloo

In the campaign of Waterloo the 2nd and 3rd battalions of the First Guards, under Maitland, and the 2nd battalions of the Coldstream and Third (Scots) Guards, under Byng, formed the First Division of the army. They rendered service never to be forgotten. The Division reached Quatre Bras about half past six on the evening of June 26th, having met many wounded who said the day was going badly for us. Maitland was at once directed to clear the Bots de Bossu, on the right of the position, and his men straight away rushed into the wood with a cheer, and drove all before them, but the French turned their gun fire upon the wood, and many were killed or injured by trees cut down by the balls. Maitland's Guards were then formed outside the wood, where they were furiously charged by cavalry. Taking shelter therefore at the edge of the thicket and supported by some Black Brunswickers, they almost annihilated their assailants and, with heavy loss, held the ground.

At Waterloo the light companies of both brigades were posted in the wood and gardens of Hougoumont, where they were reinforced at midday by four more companies of the Coldstreamers, while the brigades themselves were on the ridge of the position to the rear, on the extreme right of the line. At Hougoumont the First Guards fought with heroic valour. It was a conflict worthy of Titans. In vain did Prince Jerome throw his strength against the old château, to the possession of which Bonaparte attached high importance. The walls were loopholed, and the place was held in strength, but repeatedly the French came on to achieve a temporary success, and then to be driven out again. A desperate struggle took place in the wood, where on one side or the other, men retreated fighting from tree to tree. Not less than 8,000 Frenchmen were put hors de combat in the tremendous onslaught made upon Hougoumont. But Lord Saltoun maintained his position, and renewed attacks were in vain. The loss, however, was terrible and the light infantry were almost annihilated when the Coldstreamers came to their aid. During this momentous struggle, the farm buildings were set on fire by the guns, adding immensely to the difficulty of the defence, and consigning many wounded to an agonizing death.

While the attack on Hougoumont was thus being made, a tremendous fire was poured on the allied line. When it ceased, the Imperial Cavalry, at headlong speed, charged the steady squares of the Guards, and the decimated ranks recoiled, but to hurl themselves anew on our bayonets.

The 3rd battalion of the First Guards was one of the regiments most exposed to this terrible onslaught. "It was upon these troops," says Siborne, "that fell the first bursts of the grand early attacks, and it was upon these troops also that the French gunners seldom neglected to pour their destructive missiles." Through all that terrific day the vast masses of gallant Frenchmen were broken against the iron sturdiness of the British squares, which stood like stoney islands amid the lapping waves of a sea of fire. General Cooke, commanding the division of Guards, and Colonels D'Oyly and Stables, in command of battalions, retired wounded from the field, and Lord Saltoun, who had returned from Hougoumont, succeeded to the 3rd battalion. At length, as the day wore on, Bonaparte, seeing the oncoming of the Prussians, concentrated his furious cannonade mainly on the position held by the Guards preparatory to his grand attack, and but for the shelter of a hollow way, they must have been annihilated. At this time, Maitland, by the Duke's orders, formed his two battalions into line four deep, and scarcely was the change made, when 5,000 men of the Old Imperial Guard, led by Ney, were seen advancing at the pas de charge to the attack. Shouting Vive l' Empereur! they came steadily on, but, when they reached the crest, the Guards rose up like a wall and poured out a pitiless volley, the rear ranks passing with loaded muskets to the front. What matters it, says Lord Saltoun, whether Wellington cried "Up Guards and at 'em!" or no? He never heard the words only "Now Maitland, now's your time!" Thus was the iron shower set free. The Old Guard wavered and when at length the column reeled, shattered and broken, Saltoun cried out, "Now's the time, my boys!" and the Guards sprang forward, and drove the enemy over a hedge of dead and dying down the hill. In that conflict of giants, and at Quatre Bras, the First Guards lost 181 killed, including 7 officers, and had 853 wounded, making a total of 1,034. They had rendered glorious service, and earned undying fame. "Guards," exclaimed Wellington, "you shall be rewarded for this." and so it happened that, as a distinguished honour, they became "The First or Grenadier Regiment of Foot Guards." (Excerpt from The Navy and Army Gazette November 20th 1896  by John Leyland )

Scots Greys at Waterloo

A few years after the dawn of the 19th century, came the culminating battle of the long series of hard fought struggles with the once dominant power of France. In common with the rest of the troops, the Scots Greys suffered all the discomforts of mud, rain, soaked clothing and sodden provisions, before the battle of Waterloo. They took up their position on that eventful day behind the left centre of the line, and they were obliged to wait for a long time in chafing inactivity. A multitude of glittering bayonets and streaming colours came sweeping along in cold phalanxes, preceded by clouds of skirmishers. A division of French infantry outstripping their fellows, charged up into the centre of Wellington's position, and forced the summit of the hill upon which was the Duke. The Greys were moved up to support the infantry who were opposing the French advance. Some of the troops composing the attacking force were Napoleon's Foot Guards, great, big, strapping fellows, hardy old campaigners most of them, who had been with their hitherto invincible leader in numberless battles. The troops that prepared to bar the way were also war-scarred veterans who had fought under the Iron Duke in Spain and Portugal, but who were weaker in numbers than the Frenchmen. To the left of the English regiments was a brigade of German cavalry and light horsemen. When the French Guards came up, they charged these, and made frightful havoc of them, men and horses alike. So shaken were the Prussians that they were broken up and forced to retire. The French then turned their attention to the sturdy English regiments who had formed from square into line in order to receive them.

On came the victorious Guards, flushed with the easy triumph of our allies. This was only one of the many critical moments of the day. Uttering fierce cries of " A bas les Anglais!" they swept along. Our brave fellows were not behind hand in their reply, and a fierce bayonet to bayonet, knee to knee struggle commenced. Sheer weight began to tell - the infantry were shaken- the fight broke up into a series of more or less isolated combats. Suddenly the bugles rang out. Orders were shouted. Some semblance of a line was evolved out of the struggling mass. The psychological moment had arrived. The foot soldiers opened ranks, the squadrons passing through the intervals.

Then their turn came. The gallant Uxbridge gave his orders, which were instantaneously given through the throats of the cavalry trumpets - "Tort! Gallop! Charge!"

Down they charged straight at the face of the opposing columns. The foremost ranks of the enemy were absolutely broken up. Away plunged the Greys into the thickest of the fight. Like a huge grey wave topped with crimson and white, the regiment pierced there way through rank after rank of the French. Load above the roar and din of the battle rose the cry "Scotland for ever!" Along they dashed, encountering masses of the enemy that wellnigh overlapped them. The French infantry broke. The firing ceased; and as the smoke slowly curled away on the damp air, the huge white plumes on the towering bearskins were seen like flashes of foam on a troubled sea of struggling, fighting, ensanguined mobs of men. Numberless deeds of daring and valour during that wonderful ride went unnoticed and unrecorded. A man on foot armed with a rifle and bayonet, is generally accounted a match for any cavalry soldier. But at Waterloo when the big heavy men, knee to knee, on the big heavy grey horses, came tearing down upon the French infantry, they carried all before them. Their opponents, stalwart seasoned old soldiers, scattered and were cut down, ridden over, decimated.

During the fight, Sergeant Charles Ewart performed a glorious feat. As the Greys attacked the 45th regiment of French infantry, Ewart singled out the officer who was carrying the Eagle and rode for him. The Frenchman fought hard. He thrust at Ewart's groin; but the Scotsman parried and cut his opponent through the head. Then a French lancer rode up and attacked him by throwing his lance at him.  This too, Ewart parried, and then getting furious, he charged the man, and with a strong sweep of his arm and a dexterous turn of the wrist, cut the lancer from his chin upwards right through his teeth. Another Frenchman then came up, this time a foot soldier, and engaged him with his bayonet. But Ewart soon disposed of him by nearly shearing off his head. After this, the gallant fellow went on, Eagle and all, to follow his comrades, but General Ponsonby stopped him.

"You brave fellow!" said the General. "Take that to the rear. You have done enough until you get quit of it." Ewart obeyed orders, but with the greatest reluctance.

Following up their unprecedented success, the Greys went on, charging everything they came across: Lancers, Cuirassiers, Artillery - little they cared -until they actually penetrated to the rear of the French position. Their glorious valour cost them dear, and it was only by hard, desperate fighting that they regained the British lines and resumed their post only just in time to give their mighty support to their gallant comrades of the 92nd Highlanders. This reckless handful - for there were barely 200 of the 92nd left - charged a column of French about 2,000 strong. With the odds of ten to one against them, these brave fellows never hesitated for a moment. They pierced right into the centre of the French, and when the Greys charged up, the Highlanders broke ranks, and clinging to the horsemen's stirrup leathers, went surging into the mass to the wild skirling of the pipes and the yells of "Scotland for ever!" Infantry and cavalry together destroyed or captured nearly every single man of the opposing force.

Small wonder is it that Napoleon, who was greatly impressed by the excellent manoeuvring and swordsmanship of the Greys, exclaimed: "Ces terribles chevaux gris! Comme il travaillent!"

Unfortunately, during the big charge, the Union Brigade - the Scots Greys, the Royals and the Inniskillings - encouraged and excited by their success which had attended their gallant efforts, followed up their advantage rather too far. They swept across the plain, making light of the ravine that crossed their path, and captured, but failed to bring off, several batteries. But when they had reached the rear of the enemy's position they were naturally much broken and disorganised. The French, smarting under the havoc caused by the serried ranks of the Heavy Dragoons, regained confidence and fell upon the regiments with a large force of Lancers and Cuirassiers. It was a case of fresh troops against spent ones. Yet our men, breathless and panting from their mighty exertions, with their horses covered with mud, fetlock-deep, proved equal to the occasion. They rallied, like the heroes they were, and though sadly cut up, they fought their way through, literally their path back towards their own lines, but not without heavy losses.

The gallant commander of the brigade, Major-General Sir William Ponsonby, was one of those who rode through the victorious charge, but who never returned. His horse was blown, and on the return hopelessly floundered about in the miry depths in a piece of ploughed land. Despite all the efforts of his men, he was set upon and killed by the French Lancers.

When what remained of the regiment came back in two's and three's in scattered groups, the men resumed their former position, exposed to a heavy fire from the French artillery. Great as the British losses had been, those of Napoleon's splendid army were greater, and the French leader sought to force the issue. Well might Wellington sigh for "Night or Blucher"; for in very truth victory was hanging in the balance. Desperate attempts were continually being made by the enemy's infantry as well as by his cavalry to force the stubborn English foot regiments, stretching across the field in isolated squares, to yield their ground. But with bull-dog tenacity they held on with iron grip. The Greys, in common with the Household Cavalry and the other Heavy Dragoons, were condemned to a time of motionless inactivity, until at length the Duke assumed the offensive. The whole army made a simultaneous advance. The Life Guards and the Blues charged, and then the whole line was ordered to move. The Greys, all that was left of them, with men and horses alike refreshed by the enforced bodily rest, joined in the pursuit. For Napoleon's army gave way; his troops were utterly and entirely broken up and pursued with dreadful effect by the English cavalry, were eventually driven from the field, and the glorious field of Waterloo was won!