General Killed Saving British Army

January 1809, Northwest Spain. A British army of over 20,000 men was evacuated from under the noses of the French, having survived a 200 mile march through the freezing mountains and fought a desperate battle outside the port of Coruña. It was the Dunkirk moment in the Peninsular War. And yet, most people have never heard about that evacuation, the battle, or the general who was killed, saving the British army from destruction. General Sir John Moore, mortally wounded by a cannonball as he led his men in a desperate battle to buy time for that successful evacuation, died later that night, sure in the knowledge that as he drew his last breath, the last of his men were being rowed out in the darkness to the rescue fleet. The next morning when the French stormed the town, all they captured was his grave. When we talk about the Peninsular War, fought between the British under Arthur Wellesley, later the Duke of Wellington, alongside his Portuguese and Spanish allies against the French armies of Napoleon Bonaparte, it's easy to forget that there had been a moment where Spain and France were on the same side. You might recall it was a combined Franco-Spanish fleet that Nelson had defeated at Trafalgar in 1805. But within three years, everything had changed. Having marched his armies through Spain to attack Britain's ally, Portugal, Napoleon then turned on his ally, Spain. In 1808, he pressurised the King of Spain to hand the crown over to his brother, Joseph Bonaparte. The Spanish refused to welcome their new ruler with open arms. In May 1808, a popular rising in Madrid was savagely put down by the but across the country, local juntas formed to fight the invaders. Spain's revolt suddenly turned Britain's enemy into an ally and opened a continental front against Napoleon that Britain could actually reach by sea. A British expeditionary force under Lieutenant General Sir Arthur Wellesley, the future Duke of Wellington, was dispatched to Portugal to strike at the now isolated French army commanded by Marshal Junot. Landing in early August, he swiftly defeated the French at Rulissa and then decisively at Vimeru. But in that moment of victory, command was taken out of Wellesley's hands. Two more senior officers arrived, Sir Harry Bourard and Sir Hugh Dalrymple. It was Dalrymple, now in overall command, who, with the French beaten but still in the field, opened negotiations with Marshal Junot. The end result was the Convention of Sintra, where he agreed that Junot's army would evacuate Portugal and be carried home to France in British ships, with its arms and a great deal of plundered property. People up and down Britain were incredulous. The French were out of Portugal, yes, but they'd escaped intact and at British expense. The outcry led to all three generals, Dalrymple, Bourard and Wellesley, being recalled to face a court of inquiry. The court, which sat in the Great Hall at the Royal Hospital Chelsea, began on the 14th November 1808. The timing couldn't have been worse. Just over a week before, Napoleon himself had arrived in Spain at the head of 200,000 men to take control of the stuttering French campaign. Swiftly defeating the Spanish forces ranged against him, there was just one army left on the whole peninsula to overcome. The 20,000 strong British army, whose three most senior generals were now facing that court of inquiry, way off in London. It was now up to the most senior commander left in Iberia to save the outnumbered British army from Napoleon. His name was Lieutenant General Sir John Moore. Born in Glasgow in 1761, his father took a post as a physician and tutor to the young Duke of Hamilton. And it was through Hamilton that young John Moore was able to purchase a commission in 1776 at the age of just 15 in the 51st Regiment of Foot. His first taste of action was in the American Revolutionary War. In 1794 he fought in the invasion of Corsica, where he was injured at Calvi. It was also at Calvi that the future Admiral Horatio Nelson was injured in his eye. There then followed active service in the West Indies, Ireland during the United Irishmen Rebellion, the Elder Expedition to Holland where he was wounded again, and Egypt where he took command upon the death of General Abercrombie at the Battle of Alexandria. With the very real threat of invasion by Napoleon, Moore was now posted to organise defences in the south-east of England. He was instrumental in constructing the Martello Towers along the coasts of Kent and Sussex, raising local militias and cutting the Royal Military Canal, a defensive line against invasion. Between 1803 and 1805 he was in command of Shorncliffe Camp in Kent, where he was responsible for the training and developing the 43rd, the 52nd and the 95th Regiments into the first permanent light infantry regiments in the British Army. Apart from drilling these men in light infantry tactics, Moore also took a personal interest in their welfare. Food and accommodation were improved and he passionately sought to use encouragement rather than flogging to instil discipline and was an early advocate of the thinking soldier. Moore's men genuinely loved him, even more so as he led from the front, his two injuries are proof of that. Knighted in 1804 and promoted to Lieutenant General the following year, John Moore left England for a series of disappointing postings in Europe, including Sweden, before being posted to Portugal in 1808. He arrived in August, the same time as Wellesley was notching up his victories and just before Dalrymple was transporting the French home on British vessels free of charge. And thus it was, that when the three senior generals were recalled to face that court of inquiry, Moore found himself in charge of the 20,000 strong British Army they left behind. The army that he commanded was actually split into two, his own direct command of 20,000 men and a force of 13,000 under Sir David Baird, who he last came across in my story about the Battle of Serengapatan in India, which had landed in Coruña in north-western Spain in the October. His orders were to take his 20,000 men into Spain whilst Baird made his way south to join him, to assist the Spanish Army in its fight with Napoleon. Moore's army included those three light infantry regiments that he trained at Shorncliffe Camp in Kent, including the 95th in their distinctive green uniform. There were also three highland regiments, including the 42nd, the future Black Watch, and the 1st Regiment of Foot, who after Waterloo would become the Grenadier Guards. His cavalry, which included the 7th, 10th and 15th Hussars, the 18th Light Dragoons plus the 3rd Hussars of the King's German Legion, were commanded by Lord Henry Paget, who as Lord Uxbridge, would lose his leg at Waterloo. But events were now moving swiftly against the Allies and would leave Moore and his whole army in grave danger. Having entered Spain in overwhelming strength at the beginning of November, Napoleon smashed the Spanish in three battles and by early December 1808 had captured Madrid and reinstalled his brother on the throne. Moore, meanwhile, was advancing towards Salamanca in Spain, only to find himself completely alone and totally outnumbered by the French army, led by Napoleon himself. The obvious course of action was to order Baird to fall back on Coruña, whilst he made double-time back to Lisbon. However, two things changed his mind. First, he received an intercepted French dispatch, revealing that Marshal Soult's corps was isolated at 200 miles to the northwest of Madrid. Second, he decided that a retreat to Lisbon would leave the rest of Spain to be occupied by Napoleon. A strike against Soult would surely divert Napoleon from that objective. So he now chose to march northeast, teaming up with Baird between Leon and Valladolid, and with his combined army, strike at the numerically inferior Marshal Soult. Until now, Napoleon in Madrid had no idea where Moore actually was. But soon his march was detected, and the French Emperor, abandoned his designs on southern Spain and Portugal, turned the bulk of his army north, and personally force-marched it over the snow-choked mountains to destroy the only British army on the European continent. With Napoleon himself coming at him with a force several times his size, somewhere between 70,000 and 80,000, against his combined army of 30,000, Moore decided to retreat towards the coast in northwest Spain, in a desperate attempt to save his army. On Christmas day, 1808, he ordered a small force of cavalry, about 3,500 men, to fall back on the port of Vigo, whilst the rest of the army, about 28,000, would retreat towards the port of Coruña, where a fleet would be waiting to evacuate them. It was almost like a Napoleonic War version of the evacuation from Dunkirk in WW2. What followed was an epic two-week retreat, as the British army struggled for 240 miles through the snow-swept, freezing cold mountains of Galicia, in an attempt to reach safety. And all the while, they were being pursued by that huge French army under Napoleon, who had, at this stage, never personally suffered a land defeat, except when he had failed to take the fortress at Acre from the British and Ottomans back in 1799. On the 29th December, Moore's cavalry beat off a French cavalry attack and captured a general, a result all the more delicious for Moore, as it had happened whilst Napoleon himself had been looking on from the other side of a river. Having witnessed that setback and realising that this chase was turning into a slog, and with the Austrians forming a new coalition against him in central Europe, Napoleon returned to Paris in the early new year. The pursuit and destruction of Moore's army, before it was entrusted to Marshal Soult with 35,000 men. Marching on average 14 miles a day, in these bitterly cold conditions, with food supplies, let alone warm clothes and boots, running out, it might not come as a surprise to find out that discipline started to break down among some of the British troops. On the 2nd January, for instance, at Bembibre, still about 130 miles, 220 kilometers short of their goal, hundreds of soldiers got so drunk on the wine stored there that they had to be abandoned and were captured or cut down by the pursuing French dragoons. The next day, three soldiers caught plundering had been brought before the commander of the column's rear guard, Edward Paget. Now, the next day, three soldiers caught plundering had been brought before the commander of the column's rear guard, Edward Paget. Now, for those of you who've got keen memories, and I know there are a few of you, you might recall that I said that the cavalry was commanded by Henry Paget. Now, before you drop me a line saying I'm getting all mixed up, Henry, the future Lord Uxbridge at Waterloo, was Edward's older brother. So, there you go, two Pagets in the retreat to Corunna. And here on the 3rd January, 1809, we're referring to the younger brother, 33-year-old Edward. He had accompanied Moore on his inconclusive expedition to Sweden the previous year, and was now commanding the rear guard of the column. It was now, on the banks of the River Croix, at the village of Carcavelos, as he paraded his men to watch the three looters hanged, that a breathless Hussar rode in to say that the French were almost upon them. Extracting a promise of good behavior, Paget released the men, and minutes later, the French vanguard arrived. Most of Paget's rear guard, consisting of the 20th, 28th, 52nd and 92nd regiments, were with him on the west bank of the river. However, the 95th regiment, later the Rifles, and the 15th Hussars, were still on the east bank, forming the very rear of his rear guard. It was now that Thomas Plunkett of the 95th regiment, the Rifles, would earn his place in British army legend. Born in Wexford, Ireland, 23-year-old Plunkett, who already had a reputation as a marksman, earned during the British occupation of Buenos Aires in 1807, spotted the commander of the French attackers, General Colbert, at the head of his men, about 300 yards away. As British infantrymen, with their brown-best muskets, could hit targets at just 50 yards, General Colbert must have thought he was pretty safe. But he had reckoned without Thomas Plunkett, armed with the more accurate Baker rifle. Running about 100 yards ahead of the British line, the Irishman lay down on his back, looped the rifle's sling over his foot, braced it against his leg, and fired at the French general, just over 200 yards away, killing him instantly. And just to prove that wasn't a lucky shot, Plunkett then killed the French general's aide too. Plunkett would go on to fight at Waterloo, where he was wounded in the head, and was discharged in 1817. Finding it difficult to survive on his pension, 6 pence a day, he re-enlisted in the 41st foot and eventually was discharged with another pension, which he exchanged for four years' pay, with which he bought a land grant in Canada. However, that venture didn't work out, and he ended up back in Britain. Almost destitute, he and his wife wanted the country as itinerant merchants, and in 1839, walking through Colchester, he simply dropped dead in the street, apparently of a heart attack. He was in his early 50s. He'd probably have gone to a pauper's grave, except that retired officers in the town heard the name, recognised the man behind Plunkett's shot, and raised a public subscription that paid for his funeral, with £20 left over for his widow. Anyway, let's get back to General Moore and the retreat to Corunna in 1809. Having survived that scare, Moore pushed on through the mountains. By now, they were steadily losing dozens and then hundreds of stragglers, both to the snow, and to the French, who were snapping at their heels. The British finally reached Corunna on the 11th January. Now, forget red coats or films, Moore's army looked more like ragged, emaciated scarecrows in dirty red uniforms. Many were barefoot. Many had not shaved in weeks, looking, even the officers, like figures from the Old Testament. Some locals reportedly crossed themselves at the sight. But their nightmare was not over. There was no fleet waiting for them. The ships were stuck down the coast at Vigo, where they'd picked up the 3,500 men sent there by Moore, but now they were unable to make any progress due to contrary winds. Just like at Dunkirk in 1940, the British army was trapped on a foreign shore. For four long days his army waited, fortifying the town whilst the French closed up behind them. If there was a consolation, and us Brits do like to look on the bright side of life, the town's magazines were at least full. The men were re-equipped from the stores. Around 5,000 new muskets were issued, fresh ammunition, and badly needed food and boots. In an effort to buy time, Moore's engineers destroyed two of the three bridges leading towards the town. Now, that wouldn't stop Soult. After all, he had engineers of his own, but it would at least delay him. By the 14th, the French engineers had successfully repaired the bridges, and Soult was able to start moving his men forward for the final assault. Later that day, almost as the sun was setting, the rescue fleet finally sailed into the harbour. Moore immediately started loading his guns, the gunners, and most of his 3,000 cavalry on board. However, this moment of deliverance was also his greatest jeopardy. With no guns and no cavalry, his 15,000 infantry would have to hold off Soult's entire army, nearly twice their number, as they tried to buy time to embark for safety. Spotting the vulnerability of Moore's position, and concerned that he was about to let the British army escape his clutches, Soult finally went into action. Moore had formed a line along the Monte Mero ridge, running from the village of Elvina to the estuary of the river Borgore to the east. The 4th Regiment, the King's Own, held the far right of his line, whilst the 50th and 42nd, the Black Watch, were positioned in Elvina itself, with the 1st Regiment afoot, later the Grenadier Guards, in reserve. The following day, Soult's troops drove the British pickets off the high ground just to the south of the Monte Mero ridge, allowing his artillery to be brought up to bombard the British positions. The key, and both commanders knew it, was the village of Elvina. On the 16th January, Soult's cannon opened up along the British line, before concentrating their fire on the village. It was during this bombardment that Moore's second in command, General Sir David Baird, lost his arm to a cannonball and was out of the battle. Now Soult sent in over 7,000 infantry against Elvina. With the weight of numbers in their favour, the French were able to push the British out of the village, but only after savage hand-to-hand fighting. Moore, a general renowned for leading from the front, now rode forward to rally his retreating men. He ordered Charles Napier to counter-attack with his 50th Regiment, later the Queen's Own West Kent Regiment, and then ordered the Highlanders of the 42nd, the Black Watch, to support him. In desperate close-quarter fighting, they stormed the village and it was the French soldiers' turn to fall back. Exhausted and having taken the village, the men of the 42nd started to retire, whilst Napier, seemingly blind to his isolated position, lined his men up to charge the retreating French. And now, once more, the pendulum of the battle swung. Spotting that all that opposed them was the 50th, the French rallied and counter-attacked. They drove the 50th back through Elvina and their advance was only stopped when they ran into a battalion of the 1st Regiment afoot, now the Grenadier Guards, coming up in support. In the fighting that followed, Charles Napier was wounded and captured. As he lay on the ground, a French drama boy protected him from his vengeful comrades. After the battle, Marshal Soult had him nursed back to health and sent back to Britain. Napier would go on to a famous career in India, ultimately replacing Viscount Hugh Goff as Commander-in-Chief, but that, as they say, is for another story. Meanwhile, the French now attacked on the British right flank, hoping to turn the 4th Regiment afoot. Their cavalry, impeded by broken ground and stone walls, dismounted to fight as skirmishers, and at that moment were hit in their own flank by Edward Paget's brigade, including the 20th, 28th and 91st, along with two of Moore's light infantry units from Shorecliff days, the 52nd and 95th. Under sustained and accurate British rifle fire, the French retreated. Incredibly, the French attack was stalling. Against all the odds, it was possibly even tipping Moore's way. It was now that the Scottish General personally rallied his countrymen, the 42nd, the Black Watch, in one more attempt to retake Elvina, and as he did so, Moore was struck by a round shot from a French cannon. His left arm was nearly severed, whilst his chest and lungs were severely damaged. Rushing over to their General, the Highlanders carried him off the battlefield in a blanket. As they did so, he reportedly asked them to halt, so he could look back over the battlefield one more time, saying he'd always wished to die this way. Mortally wounded, he was taken to a house near the harbour. With Moore down and Baird already maimed, command passed to Sir John Hope, who saw the battle through. Soult, his flanking move stalled and his assaults beaten back along the line called off the action as darkness came on, for the two armies disengaged. The cost was roughly equal, about 900 to 1,000 British casualties to around 1,000 French. But tactically, it was a British defensive victory. They continued to hold Corunna, and the army was able to make their way to the fleet in the harbour. That night, and into the early hours of the following morning, Hope ordered his men to withdraw whilst their campfires still burned, and make their way to the harbour where they boarded the waiting ships. It wasn't until the next morning that Soult realised what had happened. Brushing his cannon forward, he fired on the very last troops, jumping into the ship's longboats. But it was too late. Sir John Moore had saved the British army. In total, somewhere in the region of 23,000 men from the British army were rescued from Corunna, along with 3,500 men from Vigo. They left behind about 2,800 men who had died or killed along the route of the march and the battle. A further 2,200 men had been captured. And what of General Sir John Moore? Well, rather like Nelson at Trafalgar, he clung on to life until shortly after he knew the battle was won. He died that night, and sometime around midnight, as his men were making their way to the safety of the waiting ships, he was buried without a coffin, just in his military cloak, near the bastion walls in Corunna. That hurried graveside scene was immortalised in a poem written in 1817 by Thomas Wharfe. Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, as his corpse to the rampart we hurried. Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot, or the grave where our hero was buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, the sods with our bayonets turning, by the struggling moonbeams' misty light, and the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him, but he lay like a warrior taking his rest, with his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, and we spoke not a word of sorrow, but we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, and we bitterly thought of the morrow. We thought, as they hollowed his narrow bed, and smoothed down his lonely pillow, that the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, and we far away on the billow. Lightly they'll talk of the spirits that's gone, and o'er his cold ashes upbraided him, but little he'll reek if they let him sleep on, in the grave where a Briton has laid him. But half of our heavy task was done, when the clock struck the hour for retiring, and we heard the distant and random gun that the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, from the field of his fame fresh and gory. We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, but we left him alone with his glory. It was a poem that was recited by schoolchildren in Britain for over a century, but time has faded, and the thinking soldier has largely been forgotten, although not if you look closely. There's a monument to him in St Paul's Cathedral, and also an impressive statue in George Square in his home city of Glasgow. Not to mention of course his grave at Corunna, overlooking the harbour from where his army escaped. And you might not be surprised to know that there is a Sir John Moore barracks at Shorncliffe Army Camp in Kent, where he trained the Light Infantry, whose successors are the rifles in the British Army. And maybe they, along with all the Light Infantry regiments that have been amalgamated into them over the years, are the true lasting legacy of Sir John Moore. The general who died saving the British Army at the Battle of Corunna. If you love learning about the people and events that made Britain such an incredible country, not just the battles but the wider events through the centuries, then you might enjoy my free weekly newsletter. This week for instance I was looking at the history of Tower Bridge, which was built not using public money but from an endowment set up in the middle ages, and that ancient pot of money continues to fund it to this day. Start getting your copy by clicking the link in the description, and let's keep sharing fantastic stories from British history.