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A Royal Engineer in the Low Countries

A Cavalry Surgeon at Waterloo

With the Third Guards during the Peninsular War

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Swords of Honour

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Swords of Honour
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Author(s): by Henry Newbolt & Stanley L. Wood
Date Published: 06/2006
Page Count: 276
Softcover ISBN-13: 978-1-84677-082-1
Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-1-84677-083-8

This book outlines the eventful careers of six eminent nineteenth century soldiers.. All were officers and all were remarkable in their own fields though some achieved middle rank and others rose to the highest military levels. Within these pages are battles and experiences during the Napoleonic Age from Spain to America and Waterloo. The war in Afghanistan, the two Sikh Wars and the Indian Mutiny are also represented. The book concludes with the career of Thomas Jackson in Mexico and during the American Civil War. Filled with dozens of personal accounts from journals, ‘Swords of Honour’ is made particularly special by the inclusion of 46 illustrations by the accomplished military illustrator Stanley L Wood. An ideal reader and a perfect gift book for all occasions.

The thundering cheer of the British soldiers as they rushed forward through the outer ditch, together with the appalling roar of all arms sent forth in defiance from within, was tremendous. Whenever an instants pause occurred it was filled by the heartrending shrieks of the down-trodden wounded and by the lengthened groans of the dying. Three times were the breaches cleared of Frenchmen, driven off at the point of the bayonet by gallant British soldiers to the very summit, when they were by the no less gallant foe each time driven back, leaving their bravest officers and foremost soldiers behind, who, whether killed or wounded, were tossed down headlong to the foot of the breaches. Throughout this dreadful conflict our bugles were continually sounding the advance. The cry of Bravo! Bravo! resounded through the ditches and along the foot of the breaches; but no British cry was heard from within the walls of Badajoz save that of despair, uttered by the bravest, who despite of all obstacles forced their way into the body of the place, and there, through dire necessity abandoned, groaned forth their last, stabbed by unnumbered wounds. Again and again were the breaches attacked with redoubled fury, and defended with equal pertinacity and stern resolution, seconded by every resource which science could adopt or ingenuity suggest. Bags and barrels of gunpowder with short fuses were rolled down, which, bursting at the bottom or along the face of the breaches, destroyed all who advanced. Thousands of live shells, hand-grenades, fireballs, and every species of destructive combustible were thrown down the breaches and over the walls into the ditches, which, lighting and exploding at the same instant, rivalled the lightning and thunder of heaven. This at intervals was succeeded by an impenetrable darkness as of the infernal regions. Gallant foes, laughing at death, met, fought, bled, and rolled upon earth ; and from the very earth destruction burst, for the exploding mines cast up friends and foes together, who in burning torture clashed and shrieked in the air. Partly burned they fell back into the inundating water, continually lighted up by the incessant bursting of shells. Thus assailed by opposing elements, they made the horrid scene yet more horrid by shrieks uttered in wild despair, vainly struggling against a watery grave, with limbs convulsed and quivering from the consuming fire. The roaring of cannon, the bursting of shells, the rattle of musketry, the awful explosion of mines, and the flaring sickly blaze of fireballs seemed not of human invention, but rather as if all the elements of nature had greedily combined in the general havoc, and heaven, earth, and hell had united for the destruction alike of devoted Badajoz and of its furious assailants.This was a useful but uncomfortable position. From a small ridge only 200 yards away a couple of guns and a howitzer fired continuously upon the brigade. A shell, says Colborne, came close to a corner of a column of the 52nd, followed by a ball which passed exactly over the whole column, who instantly bobbed their heads. In the excitement of the moment, more to encourage the men than any≠thing else, I called out, For shame! for shame! That must be the 2nd battalion, I am sure. (They were recruits.) In an instant every mans head went as straight as an arrow.
Besides this gun fire, Colborne was threatened by a large body of French cuirassiers who were trying to pass to the rear of Hougomont: every now and again they attempted to charge the 52nd, and that was a relief, because then the artillery fire had to stop. After a time the Duke sent Colonel Hervey down with orders for the regiment to withdraw up the hill. Colborne sent an answer back, that if it was the danger from the guns the Duke was thinking of, the 52nd could stay where they were, for they were protected by a rise in the ground in front of them. This was not strictly the case, as we have seen, but it was true that only Colborne and his mounted officers were in direct view of the guns.
Half an hour after this the Nassau regiment came running in disorder out of Hougomont wood. It seemed likely that Hougomont itself would be taken, and the right flank of the 52nd exposed, so Colborne retired them up to the road on the ridge, and the 71st went back with them. As they went, Colborne, who was riding last under a hot cannonade, heard a Frenchman shouting to him. He turned and saw a colonel galloping towards himóa deserter from the French cuirassiersóand shouting, Vive le Roi! He came up to Colborne and pointed across the valley to the French centre. Ce coquin Napoleon est la, he said, avec les Gardes! Voila lattaque qui se fait. Colborne put up his glass, and saw the Emperor for the first and last time in his life. He was in his greatcoat, with his hands behind his back, walking backwards and forwards and watching the great columns of infantry marching up to the plateau for the final attack.
A huge mass of the French Guard was coming up towards a point just to the left of the 52nd on the ridge. Colborne became anxious, Maitlands Guards were there behind the hedge, but he could not see them and did not know how the attack was to be met. He had no orders, and no time to ask for any. It was the moment for which he was born and bred, the moment for a bold stroke of his own. He determined instantly to attack the French attack upon the flank.
He could not have done this with any but a perfectly trained regiment, for he meant to place his men, few as they were, in line parallel to the enemys advance, and it must be done quickly, without manoeuvring, under fire. He advanced the regiment down the hill and wheeled it at the same time on its left as a pivot, with one company thrown out to skirmish in front. At that moment the Brigadier, Sir Frederick Adam, rode up and asked what he meant to do. To make that column feel our fire, said Colborne. Adam rode off and ordered the 71st to make the same move.
The 52nd gave three cheers and marched straight for the enemy, who halted and fired back at them.