We’re now four days in to our attempt to follow Wellington’s
Peninsular campaigns. Actually, as soon as we started planning, it became
obvious that we would have to do it in two passes. So we’re going up to the
battle of Salamanca, in 1812. And we realised that we wouldn’t be able to do it
chronologically, or it might take us as long as it took Wellington. And just to
distract further from the verismilitude of the experience, we decided that we
couldn’t face the heat of Estremadura
in the height of summer. (Wellington’s troops did not have a
choice.) And we are always well
supplied and no one is trying to kill us. And we’re travelling by car and not
on foot or horseback. And we’re not
relentlessly starting at daylight and having cold meat for dinner, as
Wellington did. But otherwise……………..
So, first we went to Elvas, from where Beresford took the
guns to bombard Badajoz, and Wellington planned the successful siege of Badajoz
that followed. There are very well preserved defences in the Vauban style, and
it’s a nice little town, but closed. Getting something to eat brought back
painful memories of Norway, last year, although when we did eventually find
somewhere to eat, we didn’t faint at the price, so not so like Norway.
We visited the British cemetery on one of the bastions, well kept and a pretty
spot. The wounded from Albuera and those sick of “fever” (sic – Sgt Lawrence)
were taken to hospital in Elvas, and those who died were buried here. Only a
few officers, who died of wounds after the battle of Albuera have grave stones.
But various regiments have erected plaques to their men who died both at
Albuera and Badajoz. Most of the Peninsular dead were stripped by looters and
buried in mass graves, from whence they were often dug up by wolves. A year
after the battle, the field of Albuera was completely covered with bones. We’re
not visiting Albuera because it wasn’t a Wellington battle – the army was
commanded by Beresford. It was a victory of sorts – the French retired – but a
very costly one.
So, then over the burning plain to Badajoz. It’s a much
busier city than Elvas. You can still see the fort of San Christobal, which
Wellington decided was too strong to attack, but the Picurina fort, which he
took in a surprise attack, seems to have vanished under modern flats. It was
easy to identify the bastions between which he breaches were made, Natividad
and Santa Maria, and to see how the moat was flooded. The walls are still
alarmingly high – the thought of rushing them with ladders doesn’t bear
thinking of. The citadel (the Arab Alcazar) was even more daunting, although of
course that is where the British finally got a good foothold. (A red jacket is
still hoisted at the Crich war memorial on the anniversary, repeating the
action of a lieutenant of the Nottinghamshire regiment, who wished to signal
that the citadel had fallen, when so had anyone who had a union flag.)
The walls of Badajoz
We called in at Caceres and Trujillo, no Wellington
associations but we didn’t want to drive past, and they were very interesting.
In Caceres there is a house built by the chap who married a daughter of
Montezuma, and in Trujillo one for Pizarro’s half Inca daughter. One wonders
what they made of this desolate, featureless country, baking in summer and
freezing in winter. Also, what must it have been like for the British army? We
climbed any church tower we could
(four) to get a view over the countryside, which was featureless and
baked dry already, so I don’t know why we bothered, plus we climbed one just on the hour and nearly got deafened by
the bells.
We visited Oropesa, where Wellington met the Spanish
general, Cuesta, before Talavera. The battlefield of Talavera has now a
motorway running across it (they found a mass grave when they were laying the
motorway), and the Portina brook is dammed to make a small lake. The Medellin
hill, crucial in the battle, is privately owned and there is no access. However, a monument was erected on the
motorway junction, at about the position of the British lines. Tellingly, the
British bit just lists the regiments involved, and the French bit lists the
regiments, but also gives the names of all the commanding officers. You have to
drive a stop down the motorway to see the Portina Brook, go round the junction
and drive back, but actually it was worth it, as you could see the slight rise
from the French positions to the British – a typical Wellington eye for land.
The sun was scorching, and the battle was a month later. And hotter. There was
a brief truce for both sides to drink from the brook, they were so thirsty.
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