The famous North British Dragoons
known as the Scots Greys in military art prints during the battle of
Waterloo. Antique print also available.
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!
For
their conspicuous gallantry at Waterloo the Greys were allowed to display
the Eagle on their guidons, and "Waterloo" on the plume socket
of their bearskin caps. Every officer and man who was present at Waterloo
received a silver medal, and was entitled to reckon the action as
representing two years toward his pension. Excerpt from the Navy and Army Illustrated January 15th
1897 by G F Bacon
