Whose Business Is to Die (45 page)

‘Always.’

They kissed again and Williams lowered her feet to the ground, his arms still enfolding her. Then he began to weep.

HISTORICAL NOTE

Whose Business is to Die
is a novel, but the story is based on real events and the reader is entitled to know how much is truth and how much is fiction. The central characters such as Williams, Hanley and the other officers and men of the 106th Foot are inventions, as is the regiment itself. A regiment with that number did not exist at the time of the Peninsular War, although the number was used briefly in the 1790s and again later in the nineteenth century. I have done my best to make the officers and men of this fictional battalion act, speak and function like their real counterparts. Moving the 106th so quickly from fighting at Barrosa outside Cadiz in
Run Them Ashore
to join Marshal Beresford’s army further north is a piece of artistic licence, but a fairly minor one. In reality it would probably have taken a few weeks longer, but I wanted them involved from the start of the book.

Apart from the skirmish involving Hanley and his handful of men, all of the fighting described in the book actually happened, and I have done my best to describe these events faithfully, in particular the charge at Campo Major, the siege of Badajoz and the Battle of Albuera. As usual, a detailed list of the sources I have consulted appears on my website –
http://www.adriangoldsworthy.com/ficsources.htm
– and there is more information on the page devoted to this story.

In 1811 the situation in the Iberian peninsula still looked grim for Britain and her allies. Lord Wellington had prevented the French from taking Lisbon, and, as the story begins, had chased them out of Portugal altogether. The line of fortifications on the
heights of Torres Vedras, supported by his own army reinforced by substantial numbers of the re-formed Portuguese army, was the key to his success, but had cost the public purse a vast amount of money by the standards of the day – as Baynes says in the book, the total was over nine million just for 1810. There was every reason to expect a fresh attempt at invasion by the French as soon as they had rebuilt their strength.

In early 1811 Wellington had managed to avoid losing the war, but to many it was hard to see any prospect of winning it. Nearly all of Spain was under French control, with just a few Spanish armies stubbornly continuing the struggle in spite of defeat after defeat. French success still appeared to be just a matter of time, for Napoleon was at peace in the rest of Europe and could continue to reinforce his armies in Spain.

The war in Portugal and Spain was not popular with many people in Britain, especially the leaders of the Whigs – currently in opposition, although many expected the Prince Regent to ask them to form a new government. Some of this hostility came from simple party rivalry. Others genuinely believed that wealth and resources – and lives, although as usual this came low down the list – were being spent for no significant gain in what was probably a doomed cause. Wellington repeatedly made fresh requests for more troops, more supplies, and ever more money to pay them, fund the remodelled Portuguese army, aid the Spanish and support the wider war effort. To opponents he was a Tory general, intimately linked to the government in which his older brother served, and his demands were reflections of his own lust for glory. He was not yet the national hero of later years, and any perceived mistake or failure on his part was ammunition with which to attack the government.

This was the context of the operations in 1811. Wellington remained heavily outnumbered, under-resourced and unsure of how long his supporters would remain in power in Britain. The capture of Badajoz by Marshal Soult left three out of the four key border fortresses in enemy hands, making it much easier for the French to attack Portugal again. Retaking these towns was
essential, but the Allies did not have the resources to do the job properly, and so they improvised, took chances, and hoped for luck to run their way.

It meant dividing the army into two, and inevitably entrusting command of one of the groups to someone else, since Wellington could not be in two places at once. With Lieutenant General Hill on leave in Britain, Marshal Beresford was given command of the force sent against Badajoz. The natural son of an Anglo-Irish peer, the one-eyed Beresford was an experienced soldier and a highly gifted administrator. He directed the reorganisation, training and supply of the Portuguese army, without which Wellington would simply not have had the numbers to campaign at all. Large, ill mannered and quick tempered, he was not always an easy man to be around, but he got the job done. By 1811 the Portuguese infantry and artillery were well on the way to becoming every bit as effective as their British allies. It takes longer to produce good cavalrymen, who not only have to be soldiers, but skilled in caring for their mounts as well, and to the end of the war the Portuguese mounted troops proved to be somewhat erratic. At Campo Major one regiment charged boldly, while the other broke and fled just as described in the book.

As a general Beresford did not shine. It is worth remembering that for all his time in the army, his experience of high command was limited and of mixed fortunes. In South America his initial success turned to defeat when he was forced to surrender to the Spanish. Under Sir John Moore he led a division, only to see discipline fall to pieces during the retreat to Corunna – a fault shared by most of the army, but scarcely encouraging. From the beginning of the 1811 campaign his actions were hesitant and he appeared too inclined to be overwhelmed by difficulties. It should be said in his defence that acting as a subordinate to Lord Wellington was a daunting prospect for anyone. Beresford was given strict instructions, and in particular was warned not to suffer serious losses among his cavalry. Wellington had few horsemen in proportion to the size of his army, and distrusted the enthusiasm of their officers as likely to lead to them charging
too far, too fast and suffering losses when they inevitably fell into disorder.

Beresford and his staff lacked experience of commanding an army of some twenty thousand men in the field – and even less when they were joined by the Spanish and numbers increased to some thirty-five thousand. It is also fair to say that quite a few of his subordinates were similarly inexperienced, and three out of the four British brigades at Albuera were led by the senior battalion commanders because no one of general rank was available. Major General Stewart had taken over the Second Division only a few months before. He was a very brave man, a gifted regimental officer, but needed a tight rein to restrain his recklessness and so was not suited for independent command. Brigadier General Long comes across as an agreeable man in his letters. As in the book, he arrived to take command of the cavalry only a few days before Campo Major. His equipment and his chosen ADC had not yet arrived, hence his having to ride a troop horse on the day. He was also suffering from stomach trouble, and may not have felt at his best. There had been little time to get to know his new command or the men serving as staff officers.

The action at Campo Major with which the story opens began an increasingly bitter feud between Long and Marshal Beresford. In time almost every aspect of the campaign became controversial as the commanders blamed each other for failures and disappointments. In later years a war of pamphlets was waged over the key events, the controversies stoked by the historian Napier, who was deeply critical of Beresford. This does mean that there is a good deal of information about each action in the campaign, but also that many decisions and actions are disputed. I have done my best to present what I believe to be the most plausible version and have tried to be fair.

At Campo Major the Allies outnumbered the French, but manoeuvred clumsily. The 13th Light Dragoons charged and broke the French 26ième Dragoons and perhaps some squadrons of hussars, and then pursued them for some eight miles, reaching
Badajoz itself. Wellington issued the biting criticism mentioned by Major Morres. It was believed that he later changed his opinion when he learned the truth, but made no public statement to that effect. Lord Wellington was not a man to make public admission of an error.

Somehow Beresford received reports that convinced him that the 13th Light Dragoons had not routed the enemy, but had in fact been surrounded and captured. He was not in a position to see the truth, unlike Colborne, who saw the charge from higher ground. That the marshal was not in the right place to observe and did not bother to find out what had really happened to the light dragoons says a lot about his inexperience in high command and his lack of confidence. Perhaps this was a legacy of the defeat in South America, producing a readiness to believe bad news. As a result he halted the heavy dragoons and made no real use of the advanced elements of Colborne’s brigades. The French column marched away, recapturing the siege train taken by the 13th Light Dragoons, who were too blown and scattered to oppose them. As an aside I have no direct evidence for a conscious attempt to capture the French guns, but they would certainly have been a great asset to the Allies.

Apart from the bickering between members of the high command, the events at Campo Major testify to an army whose staff were learning as they went along and made plenty of mistakes. This was even more true of the loss of Major Morres and an entire Troop of the 13th Light Dragoons a few weeks later. They believed that they were screened by a line of outposts when there was a large gap in the line. This was not the fault of the Portuguese cavalry, but whoever issued the orders and did not check to ensure that the screen was in place.

Wellington rode south to issue directions for the siege of Badajoz, but after he returned it was conducted with the same caution and inadequate staff work seen in the earlier operations. Having said that, the resources were utterly inadequate for the task and so success was always unlikely. The heavy guns were the best that could be found in Elvas, but that best was little enough
and almost all were at least a century and a half old – one had been cast in 1620. Not enough engineers and the supplies they needed were available, and so they could not copy the French plan of attack and bombard sections of wall so recently breached and repaired. The idea of attacking the San Cristoval and then placing batteries there to strike at the old castle walls had some merit given the limited resources. Yet it is hard to see how the objective could have been achieved before Marshal Soult came north with an army. Wellington’s prediction of at most sixteen days to take the fortress proved accurate. Success in such a short period was always improbable, especially given the skilful and well-equipped defence mounted by the French. After Albuera the siege was resumed with a stronger force, but the same inadequate siege train and basic plan. It failed.

Lieutenant Colonel Colborne would later become famous as commander of the elite 52nd Light Infantry, part of the Light Division, in the rest of the Peninsular War and at Waterloo. He was widely liked and admired in the rest of the army, not least by Napier, who claimed that he possessed a ‘singular talent for war’. Tall, fair haired, self-confident and a pious man not given to strong language or heavy drinking, he is in many respects the prototype for my fictional Williams. As far as I can tell, he did not have an ADC while commanding the brigade in these months, and so this offered a perfect opportunity to slip Williams into this post.

The manoeuvring of Colborne’s brigade at the end of April and in early May fooled the French into thinking that they were facing a much bigger advance, making them give ground faster than was necessary, so keeping them well away from the force besieging Badajoz. There is no doubt that Colborne was a very gifted officer, but it should be said that admiration for him was not universal. Some of his seniors felt that he had too high an opinion of himself and his troops, and that this was not always justified. His formidable personality was no doubt another factor in the often uncomfortable working relationship between the senior officers of Beresford’s army. His disagreement with Stewart
occurred much as described in the book, the general taking offence at the lieutenant colonel’s criticism, even though it was not directed at him.

The Battle of Albuera was very nearly a great French victory, and to some extent this was because the British commanders did not perform well together. Beresford blamed Long for retreating too quickly, although once again this was probably in obedience to a direct order and a reflection of poor staff work. He did indeed replace him as cavalry commander on the morning of the battle. The ostensible reason was that Long was inferior in rank to some of the Spanish cavalry officers and so ought to come under their authority. Lumley was senior to them and so had a right to command all of the Allied cavalry. Long had suggested the arrangement some days before, but was understandably annoyed to be supplanted when the action had actually begun. It should also be said that it was a tall order for Lumley to take over regiments he did not know and immediately lead them in a major battle. To his credit Long stayed beside him for the rest of the day and did his best to assist.

Marshal Soult arrived sooner than expected, and it is hard to see Beresford’s order for the entire infantry to show themselves on the heights as anything other than an attempt to deter the French from attacking by this display of Allied numbers. It took urging from the Spanish commanders – even the threat that they would fight alone if the British and Portuguese retreated – to stiffen Beresford’s resolve to fight. Wellington believed that he did so unwillingly.

The French were outnumbered by more than ten thousand men, although they did have a marked advantage in cavalry. Soult attacked anyway, and skilfully feinted an attack on the village of Albuera before slipping around the exposed Allied right. Masséna had done the same thing on the second day of fighting at Fuentes de Oñoro and caught Wellington off guard. The scene where the French emerge from the mist and surprise Don Julian Sanchez and his partisans comes from Captain Brotherton’s memoirs. Wellington was soon on the spot, seeing for himself, and then
came the famous action by the recently returned Craufurd and the Light Division to cover the withdrawal to a new position.