Читать книгу The Romance of Modern Sieges - Gilliat Edward - Страница 5

A night march – Waiting for scaling-ladders – The assault – Ladders break – Shells and grenades – A magazine explodes – Street fighting – Drink brings disorder and plunder – Great spoil.

After Talavera Sir Arthur Wellesley became Lord Wellington; he was opposed by Soult, Marmont, and Masséna. On the 1st of January Wellington crossed the Agueda, and advanced to the assault of Ciudad Rodrigo, which had to be hurried on because Marmont was advancing to its relief. Fortunately, we have descriptions from more than one eyewitness of the siege. Ciudad Rodrigo is built on rising ground, on the right bank of the Agueda. The inner wall, 32 feet high, is without flanks, and has weak parapets and narrow ramparts. Without the town, at the distance of 300 yards, the suburbs were enclosed by a weak earthen entrenchment, hastily thrown up.

It was six o’clock on the evening of the 19th of January. The firing on both sides had slackened, but not ceased. The chiefs were all bustle and mystery. They had had their instructions. Soon the 5th and 77th were ordered to fall in, and halted on the extreme right of the division. Whilst the men hammered at their flints the order was read to the troops. They were to take twelve axes in order to cut down the gate by which the ditch was entered. The 5th Regiment were to have twelve scaling-ladders, 25 feet long, to scale the Fausse Brage, clear it of the enemy, throw over any guns, and wait for General M’Kinnon’s column in the main attack.

“Whilst waiting in the gloom for the return of the men sent for the ladders, we mingled in groups of officers, conversing and laughing together with that callous thoughtlessness which marks the old campaigner.

“I well remember how poor McDougall of the 5th was quizzed about his dandy moustaches. When next I saw him, in a few short hours, he was a lifeless and a naked corpse.

“Suddenly a horseman galloped heavily towards us. It was Picton. He made a brief and inspiriting speech to us – said he knew the 5th were men whom a severe fire would not daunt, and that he reposed equal confidence in the 77th. A few kind words to our commander and he bade us God-speed, pounding the sides of his hog-maned cob as he trotted off.”

Major Sturgeon and the ladders having arrived, the troops again moved off about half-past six. The night was rather dark, the stars lending but little light.

They were enjoined to observe the strictest silence. It was a time of thrilling excitement as they wound their way by the right, at first keeping a distance of 1,200 yards from the town, then bending in towards the convent of Santa Cruz and the river. The awful stillness of the hour was unbroken save by the soft, measured tread of the little columns as they passed over the green turf, or by the occasional report of a cannon from the walls, and the rush and whizz of its ball as it flew past, or striking short, bounded from the earth over their heads, receiving, perhaps, most respectful, though involuntary, salaams. Every two or three minutes a gun was fired at some suspicious quarter.

They had approached the convent and pushed on nearer the walls, which now loomed high and near. They reached the low glacis, through which was discovered a pass into the ditch, heavily palisaded with a gate in the centre. Through the palisades were visible the dark and lofty old Moorish walls, whilst high overhead was the great keep or citadel, a massive square tower, which looked like a giant frowning on the scene. The English still were undiscovered, though they could distinguish the arms of the men on the ramparts, as they fired in idle bluster over their heads.

Eagerly, though silently, they all pressed towards the palisades as the men with hatchets began to cut a way through them. The sound of the blows would not have been heard by the enemy, who were occupied by their own noises, had it not been for the enthusiasm, so characteristic of his country, which induced a newly-joined ensign, fresh from the wilds of Kerry, to utter a tremendous war-whoop as he saw the first paling fall before the axes. The cheer was at once taken up by the men, and, as they instantly got convincing proofs that they were discovered – the men on the walls began to pepper them soundly – they all rushed through the opening. In the ditch the assailants were heavily fired on from rampart and tower. The French tossed down lighted shells and hand-grenades, which spun about hissing and fizzing amongst their feet. Some of these smashed men’s heads as they fell, whilst others, exploding on the ground, tossed unlucky wretches into the air, tearing them asunder. Seldom could any men have passed three or four minutes more uncomfortably than the time which was consumed in bringing in and fixing the ladders against a wall, towards which they all crowded.

Amongst the first to mount was the gallant chieftain of the 5th, but the love they bore him caused so many of the soldiers to follow on the same ladder that it broke in two, and they all fell, many being hurt by the bayonets of their own comrades round the foot of the ladder.

“I was not one of the last in ascending,” writes an officer of the 77th, “and as I raised my head to the level of the top of the wall, I beheld some of our fellows demolishing a picket which had been stationed at that spot, and had stood on the defensive.

“They had a good fire of wood to cheer themselves by, and on revisiting the place in the morning, I saw their dead bodies, stripped, strangely mingled with wounded English officers and men, who had lain round the fire all night, the fortune of war having made them acquainted with strange bed-fellows.

“Our ascent of the ladders placed us in the Fausse Brage – a broad, deep ditch – in which we were for the moment free from danger.

“When about 150 men had mounted, we moved forward at a rapid pace along this ditch, cowering close to the wall, whilst overhead we heard the shouts and cries of alarm. Our course was soon arrested by the massive fragments and ruins of the main breach made by our men, and here we were in extreme danger, for instead of falling into the rear of a column supposed to have already carried the breach, we stood alone at its base, exposed to a tremendous fire of grape and musketry from its defences.

“For a minute or two we seemed destined to be sacrificed to some mistake as to the hour of attack, but suddenly we heard a cheer from a body of men who flung down bags of heather to break their fall, and leaped on them into the ditch.

“It was the old Scots Brigade, which, like us, having been intended as a support, was true to its time, and was placed in the same predicament as we were.”

On the appearance of the 94th the fire of the garrison was redoubled, but it was decided by the officers that it was better to die like men on the breach than like dogs in a ditch, and so, with a wild “Hurrah!” they all sprang up, absolutely eating fire. The breach must have been 70 feet wide, and consisted of a nearly perpendicular mass of loose rubbish, in which it was very difficult to obtain a footing.

The enemy lost no time. They pointed two guns downwards from the flanks and had time to fire several rounds of grape, working fearful destruction on the British. On the margin of the breach were ranged a quantity of shells, which were lighted and rolled down on them; but they acted rather as a stimulus to push up, and so avoid their explosion. The top of the breach was defended by a strong body of the garrison, who maintained a heavy fire of musketry, and hurled down hand-grenades and fire-balls. However, a night attack, with all its defects, has the advantage of concealing from the view much of danger and of difficulty that, if seen, might shake the nerve.

But there was no time for hesitation, no choice for the timid. The front ranks were forced onwards by the pressure of those in the rear, and as men fell wounded on the breach, there they lay, being trodden into and covered by the shifting rubbish displaced by the feet of their comrades. Some few, more lucky, when wounded fell or rolled down the slope into the ditch, and they added by their outcries to the wildness of the scene. The enemy’s resistance slackened, and they suddenly fled. Some guns they left behind in their panic.

It was now seven o’clock; the breach was carried, and the town virtually ours. About that time a wooden magazine placed on the rampart blew up, destroying our General and many with him, as well as a number of the garrison. Patterson of the 43rd and Uniacke of the 95th were of the number.

“I distinctly remember the moment of the explosion and the short pause it occasioned in our proceedings – a pause that enabled us to hear the noise of the attack still going forward near the little breach. I met Uniacke walking between two men. One of his eyes was blown out, and the flesh was torn from his arms and legs.

“I asked who it was. He replied, ‘Uniacke,’ and walked on.

“He had taken chocolate with our mess an hour before!

“At this time a gigantic young Irish volunteer attached to our regiment, observing a gallant artilleryman still lingering near his gun, dashed at him with bayonet fixed and at the charge.

“The man stepped backwards, facing his foe; but his foot slipping, he fell against the gun, and in a moment the young Irish fellow’s bayonet was through his heart. The yell with which he gave up the ghost so terrified B – that he started back, the implement of death in his hands, and, apostrophizing it, said, ‘Holy Moses! how aisy you went into him!’ This saying became celebrated afterwards through the whole division.

“Colonel McLeod caused Lieutenant Madden of the 43rd to descend the small breach with twenty-five men, to prevent soldiers leaving the town with plunder. At eleven o’clock I went to see him. He had very judiciously made a large fire, which, of course, showed up the plunderers to perfection. He told me that no masquerade could, in point of costume and grotesque figures, rival the characters he stripped that night.”

Well, to go back to the storming party. The men who lined the breastwork having fled, our men dropped from the wall into the town and advanced in pursuit. At first they were among ruins, but gradually made their way into a large street which led nearly in a straight line from the principal breach to the plaza, or square. Up this street they fought their way, the enemy slowly retiring before them. At about half the length of the street was a large open space on the left hand, where was deposited the immense battering train of “the army of Portugal.”

Amongst this crowd of carriages a number of men ensconced themselves, firing on the British as they passed, and it required no small exertion on their part to dislodge them. In the meantime many of the French ahead of them had entered the square, for which place our fellows pushed on with as many men as they could lay hands on, formed without distinction of regiment, into two or three platoons. For the great proportion of the men who had started with the column had sneaked off into the by-streets for the purpose of plundering – a business which was already going on merrily.

As they reached the head of the street, which entered the square at one angle, and wheeled to the left into the open space, they received a shattering volley, which quickly spoiled their array. The French were drawn up in force under the colonnade of the cathedral, and we were for the moment checked by their fire.

At length, when they were meditating a dash at the fellows, they heard fire opened from another quarter, which seemed to strike the French with a panic, for on our men giving a cheer and running forward, they to a man threw away their arms as if by word of command, and vanished in the gloom like magic.

It was the Light Division who entered the square by a street leading from the little breach, and their opportune arrival had frightened away the game which had been brought to bay, leaving the pavement of the square littered with arms and accoutrements.

But now begins a part of the story which does not reflect much credit on our fellows. When the men had sipped the wine and brandy in the stores which they plundered, most extreme disorders began, which it was impossible to check. A whole division could not have restored order.

Three or four large houses were on fire – two of them were in the market-place – and the streets were illuminated by the flames.

The soldiers were growing very drunk, and many of them for amusement were firing from the windows into the streets.

“I was myself talking to the barber Evans in the square, when a ball passed through his head. This was at one o’clock in the morning. He fell at my feet dead, and his brains lay on the pavement. I then sought shelter, and found Colonel McLeod with a few officers in a large house, where we remained until the morning.

“I did not enter any other house in Ciudad Rodrigo. If I had not seen it, I never could have supposed that British soldiers would become so wild and furious.

“It was quite alarming to meet groups of them in the streets, flushed as they were with drink, and desperate in mischief, singing, yelling, dealing blows at man, woman, or child like so many mad things loose from Bedlam.

“In the morning the scene was dismal and dreary. The fires were just going out; all over street and square were lying the corpses of many men who had met their death hours after the town had been taken.

“At eleven o’clock I went to look at the great breach. The ascent was not so steep as that of the small one, but there was a traverse thrown up at each side of it on the rampart. I counted ninety-three men of the Third Division lying dead on the rampart between the traverses. I did not see one dead man on the French side of those traverses.

“I saw General McKinnon lying dead. He was on his back just under the rampart. He had, I think, rushed forward and fallen down the perpendicular wall, probably at the moment of receiving his mortal wound. He was stripped of everything except his shirt and blue pantaloons; even his boots were taken off.

“There were no others dead near him, and he was not on the French side either. It is said that he was blown up, but I should say not. There was no appearance indicating that such had been his fate. Neither his skin nor the posture in which he was lying led me to suppose it. When a man is blown up, his hands and face, I should think, could not escape. McKinnon’s face was pale and free from the marks of fire. How strange! but with his exception I did not see a man of the Third Division who had been stripped.”

Besides possession of the fortress, the whole of Masséna’s battering-train had become prize, as well as an immense quantity of light artillery which Marmont brought against us on the retreat from El Boden.

The fortress was so well supplied with warlike stores that not an article of any kind was wanting, in spite of the great expenditure during the siege.

What would not the French and English say now?

Ciudad invested, bombarded, stormed, and taken in twelve days! and this it cost Masséna fifty-one days to do, sixteen of which he was bombarding the town. Every part of the proceeding seems to have astonished the garrison, as in erecting works, opening batteries, etc., they were always a day or two out in their calculations.

The George and Dragon had nearly disappeared from the King’s colours by a shell passing through it, but “the men were splendid” in attack, and followed their leaders unto death.