‘Yes, sir.’
‘Also, send word to Cole and the other divisional commanders. I have to know how their attacks are proceeding. See to it.’
The second assault began at eleven thirty as a fresh battalion moved forward towards the breach. They fared no better than their predecessors and the slaughter continued as before. It was now impossible to see the gap or the debris slope leading up to it through the heaps of redcoats, and yet still the officers rallied their men and made one attempt after another.
General Alava could not help marvelling at the terrible spectacle. ‘My lord, I have never seen such gallantry in any body of soldiers.’ He paused a moment. ‘Surely they have sacrificed enough this night? They have proved their gallantry. Yet they cannot take the breach. Spare your men. Recall them and end this butchery, I implore you.’
Arthur resisted the urge to turn and meet the Spaniard’s gaze. He felt consumed by anguish over the decimation of those fine men down in front of the breach. Alava was right. They had no peer in terms of their courage and determination. That was why they would, why they must, surely succeed. He swallowed to make sure his voice did not betray him when he responded. ‘I will not recall them.’
The attackers’ nerve did not fail them for another two hours. Only then did they pull back from the wall, just far enough to be out of the range of the French muskets, and hidden from the cannon by the darkness. Even so, the French regularly fired blind in an effort to discomfort their attackers.
In that time Somerset had returned to inform Arthur that the Fourth Division had also failed to take the two breaches to its front and had suffered grievous losses. Shortly after two in the morning a runner arrived from General Alten. The corporal had a bandage around his head, and one arm hung uselessly in a sling as he made his report to Arthur.
‘The general’s compliments, sir. He begs to inform you that his first two battalions have failed to take the breach. They have suffered heavy casualties, most of them dead, as those who fell wounded were struck again by the defenders’ fire where they lay. The general wishes to know if you require him to continue the attack, sir.’
Arthur stared at the man, momentarily unable to issue any orders. Then he summoned the will to harden his heart. He spoke as gently as he could. ‘Tell your general that he knows my will as well as I know his courage. Tell him to rally his men and reorganise his leading formations in readiness to resume the attack as soon as possible. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ the corporal replied bitterly. ‘Perfectly.’
‘Once you have given him my reply, I would be grateful if you would go to the rear and have your wounds seen to. Ask for my surgeon.’
The corporal stared at him and then shook his head. ‘If it’s all the same to you, my lord, I’d prefer to remain with my mates than with your surgeon.’
The corporal turned and trotted away, leaving Arthur to stare after him, his stomach sick with guilt. Then he turned back towards Badajoz, not daring to meet the eye of any of his officers.
A pounding of hooves sounded from down in the fort and a voice cried out, ‘Where’s Wellington?’
‘Up there, sir.’ One of the artillery crew pointed to the rampart. A moment later an officer came running up to Arthur and the others.
‘My lord, I come from Picton’s division. He sent me to find you as soon as he was sure of our success.’
‘Success?’
‘My lord, the castle is yours.’
‘What? Tell me more!’
‘The escalade succeeded, sir. Only after heavy losses, but the division has control of the castle.’
Arthur felt hope rekindle in his heart, and a familiar alertness to the possibilities of the situation. The sacrifice of the men in the breaches might have had some purpose after all if, as seemed likely, the enemy had been obliged to draw men from the other sectors of the town to defend the breaches. If Picton’s division had succeeded then there was a chance that Leith might as well.
‘Has Picton enough men left to attack the breach from behind?’
‘Surely, but he cannot break out of the castle, sir. The French have blocked all the gateways.’
‘Damn.’ Arthur frowned. ‘Very well, ride to Leith. Tell him what you have told me. Tell him that the French have sent every available man to defend the breaches. If he is bold he can take the wall in front of him.’
Picton’s officer saluted and ran back down the stairs to his horse. Within twenty minutes there was a ferocious fusillade of shots to the north and then the shrill notes of bugles as the Fifth Division stormed into the streets of Badajoz. The fire from the French soldiers around the breaches quickly died away and then there was only sporadic shooting, fading slowly as the enemy pulled back to the northern sector of the town. Below the fort, the Light Division was warily advancing towards the breach again. This time the walls were silent, the ramparts and bastions abandoned by the enemy. Arthur watched as the leading company clambered over the bodies in the breach and then disappeared into the town, followed by the rest of the battalion.
‘Come, Somerset, Alava!’ He turned and hurried out of the fort, striding swiftly over the open ground towards the breach. They came across the first bodies a short distance from the ditch, sprawled and twisted on the ground. The rear formations of the division were standing formed up in front of the ditch waiting their turn to enter the town. General Alten was on the far side ensuring that his men did not advance in a mad rush. Until the lethal obstacles were removed it would be too perilous. Alten saw Arthur and the others approaching and turned to salute his commander.
‘A very bloody business, my lord.’
‘Indeed. But we have the town.’
‘Yes. There is that.’
For a moment there was elation in Arthur’s heart. Then his gaze travelled up the pile of bodies, rising to the breach where yet more lay heaped. A company of Alten’s men had stacked their muskets and were busy clearing away the spiked planks and the
‘What is that smell?’ asked Somerset.
Arthur sniffed. It was like roasting meat and his stomach lurched as he realised it came from the men who had died when the mine had exploded. He pressed a gloved hand to his nose as he stared at the hellish scene.
‘What was it you said, General Alava?You had never before seen such gallantry?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘I hope that I shall never again be the instrument of putting them to such a test as that to which they were put tonight.’
As he gazed at the dead there was a woman’s scream from somewhere in the town, then a harsh chorus of laughter. Elsewhere a shot rang out. The British army had paid a high price to take Badajoz and now they would be sure to slake their thirst for revenge on the people of the town, regardless of whether they had aided the French or not.
Chapter 26
Badajoz was thoroughly sacked over the following days. The soldiers broke into every house and stole all that they could, killing those who stood in their way. Many sought out wine and spirits and their drunkenness served to strip away what was left of their self-control. The terrified cries of women filled the streets. Rape became simply one of the vices through which the soldiers vented their rage against the town that had cost them so many comrades. Once the thirst for revenge had been sated, they turned to looting, and when the townspeople’s gold and valuables were exhausted the soldiers began to turn on each other, clubbing men down to steal their loot.
Arthur knew what was going on within the walls of the town but was powerless to act. The officers had simply lost control of their men and some of those who had tried to enforce discipline had been shot at, or violently thrust aside and forced to flee the city. The only soldiers still under Arthur’s control were those who had been ordered to remain outside the walls, and they looked on with a degree of envy as the other men indulged in an orgy of theft and destruction.
The final act of the siege occurred the day after the assault, when Fort San Cristobal surrendered. With the breaches taken, General Philippon had gathered the survivors of his garrison and led them across the bridge over
