An Irregular Regiment, book two in the Peninsular War saga, is due for publication on 4th July.
The novel continues the story of Major Paul van Daan and the 110th infantry as they prepare to meet the French on the ridge of Bussaco in Portugal. Back on the battlefield only two weeks after his scandalous marriage to the young widow of Captain Robert Carlyon, Paul is ready for the challenge of the invading French army.
But Lord Wellington has another posting for his most difficult officer and Paul and Anne find themselves back in Lisbon dealing with a whole new set of challenges with army supplies, new recruits and a young officer who seems to represent everything Paul despises in the army’s views on discipline and punishment. Anne is getting used to life as the wife of a newly promoted regimental colonel as two other women join the regiment under very different circumstances. And an old adversary appears in the shape of Captain Vincent Longford whose resentment at serving under Paul is as strong as ever.
It’s a relief to return to the field but Paul finds himself serving under the worst General in the army in a situation which could endanger his career, his regiment and his life.
Given a brief by Wellington which requires him to use tact and diplomacy as well as his formidable fighting skills, it’s hardly surprising that the army is holding it’s breath waiting for Wellington’s newest and most explosive colonel to fail spectacularly.
Book 1 of the Peninsular War Saga
Read the first chapter of An Irregular Regimenthere. For those who haven’t read it yet, why not order an Unconventional Officer.
I’ve just made that statement with a snigger, knowing that dozens of historians out there will take a deep breath, their eyes gleaming as they get ready to launch themselves into the fray with the enthusiasm of a pack of hounds who’ve been cooped up during a twelve year ban on fox hunting. Some of them will argue that the Battle of Waterloo was of no real significance since Europe was in transition anyway. Others will say that while the campaign was important, the battle itself made no significant difference as even if Napoleon had defeated Wellington and Blucher he would then have had to face the Austrians and Russians. Some will say that the battle should never have happened, that the European powers could have negotiated with Bonaparte whose power was much reduced, and that Europe would have done better with him left in charge of France than the Bourbons. Others will get so excited arguing whether the battle was actually won by Wellington or Blucher and how many of each nationality were involved in the various armies, that they’ll forget what the original question was about.
I’d love to be in the middle of that argument; far more so than any of the current spiteful squabbling about Theresa May, Jeremy Corbyn, Brexit and who actually won the election (count the votes, it gives an enormous clue regardless of who we might have wanted to win). There is something about a good historical scrap which I thoroughly enjoy.
The Battle of Waterloo was fought on Sunday, 18 June 1815 in Belgium which was then part of the United Kingdom of the Netherlands. A French army under the command of Napoleon Bonaparte was defeated by two of the armies of the Seventh Coalition: an English-led Allied army under the command of the Duke of Wellington, and a Prussian army under the command of Gebhard Leberecht von Blücher, Prince of Wahlstatt.
Upon Napoleon’s return to power in March 1815, many states that had opposed him formed the Seventh Coalition, and began to mobilize armies. Wellington and Blücher’s armies were situated close to the north-eastern border of France and Bonaparte needed to attack and attack fast before the rest of the coalition could join them. The days of the Grande Army were long gone. Bonaparte had landed from Elba with a tiny force although he was picking up troops far more quickly than anybody had expected. Still many of his men were new recruits without the training and discipline of his armies of old, and he needed to buy time to bring them up to scratch. If he could defeat the English and Prussian armies he might be able to negotiate a temporary peace which would give him some time.
Realistically it was a faint hope. There had been so many attempts to make peace with Bonaparte, it is hard to believe that the powers of Europe seriously considered it. Wellington certainly did not. He wanted to fight and he wanted to fight on his terms and on his ground. Scrabbling together an army was not easy. His veteran Peninsular troops were scattered, some having been sent to America. Many of the European troops under his command were raw and untrained and he had little time. But he had already scouted his battlefield while on a tour of defences and he was hoping he could make the best use of it.
Napoleon successfully attacked the bulk of the Prussian army at the Battle of Ligny with his main force, while at the same time a portion of the French army attacked an Allied army at the Battle of Quatre Bras. Despite holding his ground at Quatre Bras, the defeat of the Prussians forced Wellington to withdraw to Waterloo. Napoleon sent a third of his forces to pursue the Prussians, who had withdrawn parallel to Wellington. This resulted in the Battle of Wavre with the Prussian rear-guard.
Upon learning that the Prussian army was able to support him, Wellingtondecided to offer battle on the Mont-Saint-Jean escarpment, across the Brussels road, the terrain he had already scouted previously. There had been no reason for Wellington to be searching out battle sites; his tour of the defences of the low countries was actually probably a way of getting him away from Paris for a time given his enormous unpopularity there. There were threats of assassination and Wellington was refusing to run away, so his timely visit to Belgium was a way to remove him from danger. But for a general whose eye for terrain was one of his greatest assets, the low ridge of Mont-Saint-Jean, south of the village of Waterloo and the Sonian Forest, with it’s selection of farms acting as bastions along the wall of the ridge, the advantages of the site were hard to miss.
Bonaparte was outnumbered in Europe; 250,000 Frenchmen faced a coalition of about 850,000 soldiers on four fronts. Napoleon was forced to leave 20,000 men in Western France to reduce a royalist insurrection. Six days before Napoleon reached Paris, the powers at the Congress of Vienna had declared him an outlaw and the United Kingdom, Russia, Austria, and Prussia mobilised armies against him. Napoleon knew that his only chance of remaining in power was to attack before the coalition had time to mobilise.
Had Napoleon succeeded in destroying the existing coalition forces south of Brussels before they were reinforced, he might have been able to drive the British back to the sea and knock the Prussians out of the war. Crucially, this would have bought him time to recruit and train more men before turning his armies against the Austrians and Russians. He also hoped that a French victory might cause French speaking sympathisers in Belgium to launch a revolution. In addition, coalition troops in Belgium were largely second-line, as many units were of dubious quality and loyalty, and most of the British veterans of the Peninsular War had been sent to North America to fight in the War of 1812.
His strategy was simple; to isolate the Allied and Prussian armies and annihilate each one separately. Wellington hoped to counter the threat by moving through Mons to the south-west of Brussels, bringing him closer to Blücher, but there was a risk of cutting communications with his base at Ostend, and Wellington’s Peninsular experience had taught him the importance of supply lines.
By June, Napoleon had raised an army of about 300,000 men. The force at his disposal at Waterloo was less than one third that size, but the rank and file were nearly all loyal and experienced soldiers unlike Wellington’s army which was cobbled together. Bonaparte divided his army into a left wing commanded by Marshal Ney, a right wing commanded by Marshal Grouchy and a reserve under his command. Crossing the frontier near Charleroi before dawn on 15 June, the French rapidly overran Coalition outposts, securing a central position between Wellington’s and Blücher’s lines.. He hoped this would prevent them from combining, and he would be able to destroy first Blucher’s army, then Wellington’s.
In the early hours of 16 June, at the Duchess of Richmond’s ball in Brussels, Wellington received a dispatch from the Prince of Orange confirming that the Charleroi approach was to be Bonaparte’s main thrust and he was shocked by the speed of Napoleon’s advance. He hastily ordered his army to concentrate on Quatre Bras, where the Prince of Orange was holding a tenuous position against the soldiers of Ney’s left wing.
Ney’s orders were to secure the crossroads of Quatre Bras, so that he could later swing east and reinforce Napoleon if necessary. Ney found the crossroads of Quatre Bras held by the Prince of Orange, who repelled Ney’s initial attacks but was gradually driven back by overwhelming numbers of French troops. First reinforcements, and then Wellington arrived. He took command and drove Ney back, securing the crossroads too late to send help to the Prussians, who had already been defeated by Napoleon at the Battle of Ligny using part of the reserve and the right wing of his army. The Prussian centre gave way under heavy French assaults, but the flanks held their ground and the Prussians managed to retreat from Ligny uninterrupted by the French.
Crucially, the Prussians did not retreat to the east, along their own lines of communication. Instead, they, too, fell back northwards—parallel to Wellington’s line of march but still within communication with the English commander. The Prussians rallied on Bülow’s IV Corps, which had not been engaged at Ligny and was in a strong position south of Wavre and Blucher, although wounded, held himself ready to go in support of Wellington.
With the Prussian retreat from Ligny, Wellington’s position at Quatre Bras was impossible and he withdrew northwards, to the defensive position he had reconnoitred the previous year—the low ridge of Mont-Saint-Jean just south of Waterloo. On 17th June the armies prepared to give battle.
Myseries of novels set during the Peninsular War is well underway with the first four books published. I am halfway through the fifth and I have the rest planned out so I know where my characters are going to be at the Battle of Waterloo and I know roughly what is going to happen to them. It’s going to be emotional when I finally get there.
For the men of Wellington’s army who did fight at the Battle of Waterloo, it must have felt very much like a life changing event whatever the historians might say. The battle itself was bloody with enormous losses to death and injury on both sides, but more than that, these men had believed it was all over. The officers of the 110th had gone home to friends and family after five or six long years in the field. The powers of Europe had celebrated for weeks in London and the Bourbons had been restored.
Suddenly it must have seemed as though they had it all to do again. Men who thought they had made it, with their friends and comrades through the long years of war had to fight again and some of them would probably die.
For the men of the 110th light infantry and the women who loved them it probably would have seemed like a nightmare. For a historical novelist in search of a dramatic plot line, it’s a bit of a gift.
An Uncommon Campaign is now published on Amazon Kindle and will shortly be available in paperback.
An Uncommon Campaign, 110th at the Battle of Fuentes d’Onoro
It is April 1811. Lord Wellington has led his army to the Spanish border where the French occupy their last stronghold in Portugal at Almeida. As the two armies face each other in the village of Fuentes de Onoro, Colonel Paul van Daan is trying to become accustomed to his new responsibilities in command of a brigade and is learning to manage the resentment of other officers at his early promotion. His young wife is carrying her first child and showing no signs of allowing her delicate situation to get in the way of her normal activities much to the horror of the rest of the army. And if that is not enough, Paul encounters a French colonel during battle who seems to have taken their rivalry personally with potentially lethal consequences for the Third Brigade of the Light Division.
The third book in the Peninsular War Saga will be published at the end of July 2017.
Book 2 of the Peninsular War Saga
An Irregular Regiment, Book Two will be published on 4 July 2017
In the run up to the publication of An Irregular Regiment, there will be a free promotion of An Unconventional Officer from 16 – 18 June 2017.
I first wrote A Matter of Intelligence – Wellington on Twitter last year and as today is the anniversary of the great man’s death I thought I would share it again.
Military Intelligence in the early nineteenth century was a little haphazard to say the least. Wellington made use of local Portuguese and Spanish guerrillas who provided him with information about French troop movements. He also had a Corps of Guides which performed a wide variety of duties of which intelligence and map-making was one.
Initially the Corps only had a sergeant, a corporal and 18 troopers. It was commanded from 1808 to 1814 by Major (later LtCol) George Scovell, seconded from the Portuguese Quartermaster-General’s Department. Wellington expanded and transformed the Corps into a military intelligence corps. Around 15 officers, English and Portuguese, were appointed to the corps between 25 April and 3 June 1809; many more enlisted men were also added and, in 1813, the corps had 12 officers and 193 men. In 1808-1810 the corps was mostly Portuguese, its officers being generally students of the University of Coimbra. All were to speak both English and Portuguese. Later recruits were often foreign deserters or Spaniards, recruited to gather information for the Anglo-Portuguese Army in Spain and southern France.
The Corps employed a number of ‘exploring officers’, chosen for three distinct skills: they were expert horsemen, skilled linguists, and able to express themselves in writing or sketching in the briefest and most concise terms. One of the first duties in the winter of 1810 when there was little fighting, was for the exploring officers to map every bit of the Portuguese countryside four miles to the inch. They accomplished this with the help of local inhabitants who often knew their own immediate area never travelled beyond the sight of their villages or farms.
With the countryside mapped, the exploring officers were sent out on
reconnaissance, moving behind enemy lines, learning troop movements and strategic information and then bringing the information back to Wellington. They led lonely and often dangerous lives and received little reward or recognition for it. Some were even shunned by their former regiments who took the view that they had avoided the dangers of the battlefield but Wellington had enormous respect for them.
These days, so much intelligence is online, and there is a good deal of debate about personal privacy on the internet and how it can be balanced against national security. Wellington’s needs were much simpler. He needed men to gather the information, he needed Portuguese and Spanish partisans to capture French messengers and bring him their despatches. And he needed a code breaker to make sense of them. He found that in Major George Scovell, an unassuming officer of the quartermaster-general’s department who became a crucial player in Wellington’s winning the war.
I find myself speculating, between my writing, my research and reading news reports, on how different things were for Wellington and his army. Messages were sent by semaphore or carried by riders and there was nothing instant about them. News or orders from London took weeks to arrive and the officers of Wellington’s army were often ignorant of the latest news and of their general’s plans which they found very frustrating. Not that modern methods of communication would have helped them. Lord Wellington was notorious for failing to consult or inform his officers, with the exception of a privileged few. He was a private man and it would not have occurred to him to share his thoughts or opinions with the majority of the army. Twitter would not have been for him. But I’ve been amusing myself today, reading some of Donald Trump’s latest efforts, trying to imagine what it would have been like if he had…
Wellington on twitter
@Craufurdlightdivision: Camped at Almeida outside fort
@Wellingtonhq: When you say outside fort do you by any remote chance mean outside the actual fortress? What are you doing on that side of the river General? Did you not understand my very
@Craufurdlightdivision: Sir only 140 characters, remember?
@Wellingtonhq: 140 characters? How can I be expected to give orders in 140 characters? This is completely absurd, where are you? Where are the French? Have you made contact with Picton? You
@Craufurdlightdivision: You need to keep it shorter, Picton an arsehole, think French approaching, might need to go, brb
@Wellingtonhq: What do you mean Picton an arsehole, dear God if the enemy is approaching and you have no support you need to get them out of there! Why are you on that side of the river? Retr
@Craufurdlightdivision: Busy here, sir, retreating over the river, very outnumbered, BFN
@Wellingtonhq: BFN what in God’s name does that mean? What numbers? How are they formed? Do you have cover? How can I give orders without any information, General, this is serious! Get th
@Craufurdlightdivision: Shit the bridge is blocked need to go BFN
@Wellingtonhq: Craufurd listen to me! Are you there? Speak to me! How dare you pi me in the middle of my orders! You forget yourself, sir! You are too rash, too ready to throw your men into bat
@Wellingtonhq: God damn it why will this thing never let me finish a sentence? Craufurd answer me!
Wellington (to his ADC): Freemantle, would you be a good fellow and check those bushes for my phone? No not those ones, Captain, those over there. I threw it quite hard. And send a message to General Craufurd by semaphore, would you?
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Many thanks to all of you downloadingAn Unconventional Officer, the first book in the Peninsular War saga. I really hope you enjoy it. It’s a long book and it’s the first in a series so I am hoping that you make a connection with the characters and want to read on. Discovering a new series of books is something of a commitment. You can read one book, put it to one side with a smile or a shrug, and not worry about it any further. But to read a series, the story and the characters have to matter.
All of my characters matter to me but I probably have more invested at the moment in Paul and Anne in An Unconventional Officer because I know a lot more about them. I’ve worked out where they are going and what happens to them and I know what they have to face along the way. I know about their friends and their family and their children.
I love reading a series. There’s a real sense of anticipation about the next book. In terms of historical novels, these are my favourites, in no particular order:
There are a lot of others but these are definitely my favourites. I quite enjoy some other series as well. I like thrillers, and I enjoy Val McDermid, Jeffrey Deaver, Tony Hillerman, Jonathan Kellerman, Colin Dexter, P D James, Tess Gerritson and Elizabeth George.
Sometimes a series starts well and then tails off so that I lose interest. That definitely happened with the Alex Cross series by James Patterson. I enjoyed the early ones enormously but then for me, the stories became too similar or sometimes too bizarre, in an effort to keep the series going. Sometimes I suspect it is time just to find an ending and move on.
Sometimes a series just wears me out. I’m a big fan of Game of Thrones and have followed both the novels and the TV series with considerable enthusiasm. But the last book was a struggle and although I’m still enjoying the series, I’m not sure I’ll read the next book when it arrives. It had become unremittingly depressing and hard to follow even for me, and I’ve waited too long for it. I think he’s an amazing writer, but I’m just done with them now.
Writing a series brings both opportunities and challenges for an author. There are challenges of continuity, of making sure no glaring errors occur with events and characters and history. List making, chronologies and obsessive detail is essential here. There is the challenge of keeping your readers interest. No matter how much your readers love your main characters, if all the books are about them and nothing else they are going to get bored.
I think historical novelists have an unfair advantage here, because unless we want to rewrite history, we can’t cheat. The events of the day are going to happen to our characters whether we like it or not so it forces us to think about how they might genuinely affect our protagonists. A good example of this is the growing friendship between Colonel Paul van Daan, my fictional hero of the Peninsular Wars saga and General Robert Craufurd, the irascible, brilliant commander of the light division. There are no spoilers here. Both Anne and Paul are very attached to Craufurd but anybody can check Wikipedia and realise that at some point they are going to get very upset. Craufurd died in the breaches of Ciudad Rodrigo and his friends were devastated. I can’t rewrite that to make my characters feel better…
Those are the challenges. The opportunities are equally important. A series means you get to find out what happens next. You don’t have to tie up all the loose ends in one book. You can start and end each chapter when it makes sense. You can explore other characters alongside your leads. And you can develop people in the way that happens in real life, gradually, in a series of conversations and events not in a three paragraph summary which is all you have time for.
The established wisdom of publishing now seems to be, that with very few exceptions, long novels don’t work. It is assumed that modern readers simply can’t cope. In my opinion this has more to do with publishing costs than public opinion and I do understand why a publisher who is struggling with the advent of the internet and self publishing might not be willing to take on a new author. But for me, because I’m a realist, the phrase “you’re not marketable” actually means “you’re new and therefore too much of a risk”. And that’s fine. I’ve accepted it and moved on. But since I can’t stop writing, I’ve decided to put my books out there and see. And the good news is, they’re selling. And getting good reviews and ratings. Not thousands of sales yet, but hundreds. Not dozens of reviews yet but a few and very good.
“An Unconventional Officer” was a difficult novel to publish. It’s long. Less that the Harry Potter book “Deathly Hallows” which was for children. Less than War and Peace or Catch-22. About the same as Fellowship of the Ring. I thought about splitting it into two books when I was trying to find a traditional publisher. They would either have told me to cut it or to split it into two books.
Book 1 of the Peninsular War Saga
In the end I’ve published it as it is. For those of you who give it a try I hope you enjoy it. I loved writing it and I’m looking forward to the rest of the series, most of which will be shorter books covering a shorter time period.
I had a lovely time today recording a radio interview for Manx radio with the fabulous Sarah Hendy whom I used to work with at the Sayle Gallery in Douglas. Sarah now presents Spotlight, the stations weekly arts programme and asked me to come for a chat about my books and in particular the latest
It took me right back to my first ever post when I wrote about how difficult it was for me to ‘come out’ and admit that I write historical novels and consider myself to be an author. I was writing when I was working with Sarah but we didn’t talk about it because at that stage only my closest friends and family knew that I wrote at all. I’m not sure why, looking back on it, except that it is a slightly unusual hobby. A lot of people put reading or hiking or cycling at a hobby on their CV but writing tends to raise eyebrows.
I enjoyed the interview. It helps a lot to know the person interviewing you and Sarah and I know each other very well. But I also enjoyed some of the questions, in particular the one about the process of creating the story.
I don’t know how other authors put together their novels. Do they start by typing chapter one and then write through in a logical order until the end? I’ve never been very good at doing that. I tend to write a selection of scenes involving my characters and then string them together. Once I’ve got a fair chunk of the book, I can go back and fill in the gaps, and a lot of rewriting is done then.
It sounds like a slightly mad way of doing things, but my books are very character driven. One of the comments made by Sarah today was that it sounds at times as if my characters get away from me. It’s really hard to explain it, but they do. Sometimes they seem to behave in ways that I find very difficult to understand. Heroes behave like idiots, heroines lose their marbles at an unexpected moment and a villain who up until now has been completely dislikable will step up and do something good which I then have to deal with.
That’s why writing individual scenes often works well for me. I can throw a collection of people together in a situation and see how they behave. Sometimes it works really well and I will incorporate the scene into the book and at other times I decide I don’t want to use it. But even the unused scenes have developed relationships between my characters and I think that makes the scenes I do use a lot stronger.
The exception to this slightly off beat way of writing has been the Peninsular War Saga. Initially I began with the same approach but once I got to grips with the research, it was obvious I needed to focus a bit better or the whole thing was going nowhere. Lord Wellington did not hang about during the war and my poor characters are constantly on the move, constantly busy. Scenes I particularly wanted to include needed to be ruthlessly adapted to fit in with what the commander in chief wanted.
I didn’t mind. Wellington was giving the orders here, it’s our job just to get on with it. In many ways it makes the whole situation more realistic. The number of times one of my characters needs to march out to battle just as a crisis occurs at home is numerous but completely real. It must have happened in real life, which is probably why Wellington didn’t really like his officers and men to be married at all, and if they were, preferred their families to be left at home. He needed his army to focus and became annoyed very quickly at requests for leave to deal with family crises, romantic interludes or personal bereavement.
Wellington remained in the field for the whole of the war apart from the one occasion right at the start when he was recalled with the other commanders to answer for the fiasco of the Convention of Sintra. While he was away Sir John Moore marched into Spain, a disastrous campaign which ended with his death at Corunna. I rather suspect that didn’t help with Wellington’s conviction that everything tended to go wrong if he wasn’t there to personally take charge.
With the Peninsular books I now have my characters, and a fairly fixed timeline, and all I need to do is work out what happens to them during that time period. It’s fairly obvious where Paul needs to be. Battle follows battle and he’s going to be involved in them. Occasionally there’s a short break during winter quarters, but I tend to find him a job elsewhere during those periods. He doesn’t like to be bored.
I’d like to thank Sarah and Manx Radio for letting me ramble on about my books. It’s something I love to do. The programme is aired on Wednesday 7th June at 5.30pm.
Writing with Labradors, and Blogging with Labradors came about as something of a joke when I was first setting up my website. It’s proved popular and I’ve stayed with it…hence the presence of Toby and Joey in our local newspaper this week.
Anybody looking at this post is going to work out from the title that I’ve a few things on my mind this morning. One of them is recovering from my birthday yesterday. Not, as you might think, a wild night out on the town, but a rather lovely meal at home (main course courtesy of my son and his girlfriend, cake courtesy of my daughter) followed by Prosecco and Trivial Pursuits. You can tell that I know how to live…
I spent some time thinking about publicity yesterday now that An Unconventional Officer has been published. There was a nice article in our local paper the Isle of Man Examiner about the release and I’ve been asked to do Manx Radio as well.
I can remember one of the first posts I wrote on this blog talked about my concerns regarding publicity. I’ve never been much of a self-publicist and I honestly thought I’d struggle more than I have, but I’ve made myself do it because once I had taken the plunge and published the books it seemed pointless just to let them sit there and take their chances. And I’ve actually quite enjoyed it. For anybody interested in psychology, marketing and reaching the right audience is a nice little challenge. I’m still learning but I think I’m getting better.
It helps that the books are selling – not in their thousands, but steadily. It also helps that I’ve had one or two nice reviews and some four and five star ratings on places like Goodreads and Amazon. There’s something very encouraging about knowing that people are reading and enjoying the books enough to review them. All my reviews are from complete strangers, I hope they have some idea how much it makes me smile.
One of the interesting things I’m learning is what people like. I grew up with Regency novels and loved them, and I’ve read a few more recent ones. The Reluctant Debutantewas my tribute to those and I’ve been astonished at how popular it’s been. I had already thought I would write another Regency just because they’re so much fun, but I’m already planning it.
An Unconventional Officer is also set in Regency times and although it’s a far cry from the London Season of Cordelia and Giles, it is about the war which affected everything during those years. It’s a longer book than any of the others and is the first in a series which follows the men and women of a fictional regiment through the years of the Peninsular War. I loved working on this book; it’s a bigger canvas with a large cast of characters and the best part is that I don’t have to say goodbye to them at the end of the book.
I’ve done a lot of research for these books. Earlier I saw an article in the Guardian which caught my attention about the relationship between academic historians and historical novelists which I found really interesting. I’m sure there are a lot of academics who dislike historical novels, particularly where they take very obvious liberties with history. Equally there are non-academics who don’t like them much either. And there are people who like science fiction and chick lit and thrillers and even, so I’m told, those who love Fifty Shades of Grey. It takes all sorts.
I think I can understand the frustration of an academic historian. After publishing a book which took years of painstaking research, gained excellent academic reviews and sold very few copies it must be infuriating to see a novelist selling thousands of books which claim to be based on history but which to a serious historian could seem poorly researched, wildly inaccurate and full of mistakes.
I do have a history degree so I’ve a little understanding of both sides of this argument. The truth is that some historical novelists are not trying to be accurate, they’re just trying to entertain, putting characters in old fashioned clothing but not caring about period detail or anachronisms or accurate timelines. It doesn’t mean people don’t or shouldn’t enjoy their books. It just means that they’re not intended to teach people anything about history.
I’ve read some of these and personally they drive me up the wall. I can cope with honest mistakes but in some cases I think writers might do better to turn to fantasy where anything goes. Still, I refuse to be a snob about it. There are also some very well respected historical novelists whose work is clearly painstakingly researched but I just don’t enjoy their style. Many people do, it’s a matter of personal taste.
I’ve recently come across an author called Jacqueline Reiter, who has written both a biography and a historical novel about the life of John Pitt, 2nd Earl of Chatham, the elder brother of the Younger Pitt who spent much of his life in the shade of his more famous father and sibling. I’ve now read both, and it’s confirmed what I’ve always suspected that it’s very possible to be both and excellent historian and an entertaining historical novelist. I would defy anybody on either side of this debate to be snobbish about Earl of Shadowswhich is the novel or to complain that the biography the Late Lord is anything other than a well-written and very scholarly work. Both historians and novelists could learn a lot from this writer and I hope she goes on to write a lot more.
The books I’ve written so far are period specific and most of them include some real historical characters alongside my fictional ones. I try to research as well as I can. For A Respectable Woman I used a lot of primary sources and for “An Unconventional Officer” I read endless accounts of the war written by the men who fought it. The problem with these is that they are frequently contradictory in themselves; they were written years after the war and people forget.
Wellington’s letters and despatches are a goldmine of information for the Peninsular War books although they’ve obviously been edited for publication. Even so, given the immense stress Wellington must have been under during those years, did even he remember everything?
In the end, it only matters if you want it to matter. I love reading history, both novels and non-fiction, as long as it’s well written and enjoyable to read. I can sift through either and find what I want and the very obvious disagreements between academics over the interpretation of events means that I don’t feel guilty about putting forward my own interpretation in a novel. My characters might well have their own views about why something happened which contradict modern historians’ thinking, but then they’re not modern historians, sifting the evidence, they’re supposed to be ordinary people living their lives in a different time and like us they’re entitled to their opinions.
I think I’ve done enough musing about marketing and the meaning of life for a while. Now it’s back to the writing, which in the end is what I love doing most and the reason that all this is happening.
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Twenty three years ago today I got married and the anniversary has made me think about love and marriage, an important issue in all of my books.
Inevitably it was in a castle. Dalhousie Castle on the Scottish Borders is a beautiful place, converted into a hotel with a small chapel which as far as I know still does weddings. Ours was a small affair with only close family and two or three friends. We went on honeymoon afterwards and then came back and had a huge party with all our friends to celebrate.
I write historical fiction with a strong element of romance so relationships and how they develop are of interest to me. I also spent years working as a relationship counsellor which meant I saw the ups and downs of more couples than I can remember. And I’ve been in a relationship now for around twenty seven years. Believe me, I’ve thought about love and marriage during all this.
It’s the aim of a writer of romance, even if the romance is only part of the theme of the book, to try to make it realistic while still retaining the magical element of falling in love. A lot of romantic novels end with wedding bells, or at least with the couple falling into each others arms and admitting that after all their trials and tribulations, they want to be together. There’s something very satisfying about reading the last page, closing the book, and knowing that the couple that you have become attached to (hopefully) have worked it out.
Of course they haven’t. They’ve just worked out the first bit. There’s a whole lot of work still to come which a lot of the time we don’t see. But because I do get attached to the characters I write about, I do wonder what happened to them next.
In historical fiction, the drama of divorce would have been less common. Certainly before the Victorian era when divorce became slightly more realistic, although still very difficult, only the very wealthy could afford divorce which had to be confirmed by an act of Parliament. And it was only available to men.
This didn’t mean that couples didn’t separate. For many it was a quiet affair, simply drifting apart and living separate lives. There was not always the same pressure for couples to spend all their time together as we have now. These days, if one partner takes a job which keeps them away for weeks, months or even years at a time, there is often an expectation that the marriage is going to fail. In the early nineteenth century, married officers and men in the British army might not see their wives or families for years. Some marriages did end during that time but a surprising number succeeded, helped along by endless letter writing and a determination to keep the relationship alive.
There was probably a different attitude to adultery in some quarters, for men at least. It was not considered so shocking for a man to have relations with a mistress as long as he was discreet. In an age where many marriages, particularly among the middle and upper classes, were arranged for reasons other than love, one wonders how often both partners were unfaithful at times. Some of these marriages worked very well. Others did not. There are examples of both of these in the books I’ve written.
I do wonder, though, if some couples pushed through their difficulties and came out stronger when divorce and separation were more difficult. Some, we know, lived in misery, and I wouldn’t go back to the days when divorce was seen as shocking. But relationships are tough at times and there’s a feeling of satisfaction in coming out the other side of a difficult patch and feeling close again.
A Marcher Lord – a story of the Anglo-Scottish borders
I’ve been thinking about the couples in my books so far and wondering how they’d do. Jenny and Will fromA Marcher Lordwill do well, I suspect. Both had parents who made successes of their marriages; Will’s had an arranged marriage and Jenny’s was a runaway love match but both worked. Jenny and Will would have led a busy and active life keeping castle and estates running successfully and they have already proved they make a good working team. They’ll argue, but they have shared values and interests and I think they’ll be fine. I’m planning a second book featuring this couple some time next year and I’m looking forward to catching up with them.
Cordelia and Giles from The Reluctant Debutante come from different social backgrounds, but she’s already proved that she can make the shift into the Ton very well. I think both of them enjoy country life. They might argue about social obligations; she’s probably always going to be more social than he is, have better manners and be nicer to people. But they share a sense of humour and a love of the ridiculous and I think for Giles there will always be an enormous sense of gratitude to her. He was in bits after Waterloo and she’s a big part of his rehabilitation. There is a planned series of books set around the lives and loves of some of the men and women of the third brigade of the Light Division after the war, of which this is the second, so I think we will meet Cordelia and Giles again.
Kit and Philippa from A Respectable Womanare the most interesting in some ways. Somebody who has just finished the book and loved it asked about a sequel and it has made me think how this marriage is likely to work. Of all of them the gap between these two is the widest. Philippa has a lot to learn about how to be a Countess and for all his protestations that she can do as she likes, Kit is going to need to learn to let her be herself. I think the key to this one is going to be for both of them to find something to do outside of the marriage so that neither of them feel smothered. They’re both used to being busy and having a job to do. The big advantage that they have is Kit’s mother, a very wise and understanding woman who is going to be a big help to Philippa. I think they’ll be all right but I suspect there might be a few fireworks along the way.
Book 1 in the Peninsular War Saga
Then we have Paul and Anne who began their journey in An Unconventional Officer. There is a lot about relationships in this and the subsequent novels in the Peninsular War saga. There’s no point in speculating about Paul and Anne because their story doesn’t end with the book, it continues through the series. We’re going to see how Paul and Anne and the other characters cope with trying to be together in the middle of a war and it’s not always likely to be easy.
I’ve been lucky enough to see an example of a very happy marriage with my parents. They’d been married for over fifty years when my Dad died and there were definitely ups and downs. But they stayed devoted to one another. Theirs is a story I’d like to write one day
In the meantime, Happy Anniversary to the man I married. 23 years and we’re still here. It feels like something to celebrate…
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Researching for the Peninsular War saga, I’ve met a few characters along the way and other than Lord Wellington, one of my absolute favourites has to be General Robert Craufurd, known to the army as Black Bob, the irascible genius who commanded the Light Division, the elite troops of Wellington’s army.
When I first created Lieutenant Paul van Daan who marched into the barracks of the 110th foot in 1802 ready to take over, my research into Wellington’s army was only just beginning. I wasn’t sure how he was going to fit in. I had thought, early on, that he might turn out to be one of Wellington’s exploring officers, a bit of a lone wolf, since he wasn’t really much like the other officers. That idea was quickly abandoned. Mr van Daan, it turned out, was better at the army than I thought he might be. Besides which, extensive reading made it really clear to me that there was only one natural place for an over-confident individualist with a perfectionist attitude to training and a liking for eccentric characters. Paul van Daan, although he didn’t know it yet, was clearly destined for Wellington’s Light Division under the grumpy, over-sensitive genius, General Robert Craufurd.
Craufurd was from a Scottish family and joined the army at fifteen. He has a surprising amount in common with my fictional character, Paul van Daan. Like Paul, he took the army seriously, studying at a military school in Berlin and travelling all over Europe and to South America and India on various postings. Like Paul, he had varying success with his commanding officers. He gained the reputation of being difficult, rude and bad-tempered. More than once he seriously considered giving up the army, so disgusted was he with how poorly it was run in places.
Like Paul, Robert Craufurd married for love and was devoted to his young wife. Mary Holland was a granddaughter of Lancelot Capability Brown the landscape designer and Craufurd was thirty-six when they married. He fell in love relatively late but he fell hard and it was a source of exasperation to his future commanders, particularly Lord Wellington, that he frequently requested furlough home to see his love. When Craufurd was in the Peninsular, Mary spent some time in Lisbon to be close to him and he returned to England, incurring the wrath of Wellington, for several months during 1811, arriving back literally on the battlefield in time to save the day at Fuentes de Onoro. He had four children, three boys and a girl.
In 1808, Craufurd sailed for Corunna in Spain to reinforce Sir John Moore’s army. Under Moore’s reorganisation, General Robert Craufurd was given command of what was called the 1st Flank Brigade which comprised the first battalions of the 43rd and 52nd and the second battalion of the 95th rifles, all light infantry. The 2nd Flank Brigade, interestingly was commanded by Brigadier Charles von Alten who was to become Craufurd’s successor in command of the light division. When Moore realised he was at risk of being cut off he began a brutal retreat to the coast. The two flank brigades marched separately towards Orense. Men died of cold and starvation and illness although unlike Moore’s main force they were not pursued by the French. The retreat became famous for Craufurd’s brutal discipline, although surprisingly the enlisted men did not seem to resent this. They considered that their safe arrival was due to their commander’s iron control of his brigade. At the coast they awaited stragglers before returning to England, emaciated, sick and in rags.
Craufurd’s brigade, by now, known as the Light Brigade, returned to Portugal in May 1809, but poor weather delayed their sailing and despite a forced march which covered 45 miles in 26 hours they just missed the battle of Talavera. Nevertheless, it is clear that despite numerous personal differences, Lord Wellington knew the worth of his most difficult commander and the Light Brigade was increased in number to become the Light Division, the elite troops of Wellington’s army. Trained skirmishers, they could move fast and travel light and the French learned to fear them.
Craufurd was one of the few men that Wellington the control freak, trusted out of his sight. The only generals with whom Wellington would ever enter into explanation and discussion were Hill, Beresford and Craufurd – the rest were simply given their orders and expected to obey them. During that difficult winter Craufurd was sent with his division to hold the Allied outposts, patrolling the border and engaging in constant skirmishing with the French while other divisions rested. By the time Wellington was ready to advance his army to the border, chasing Massena out of Portugal, Craufurd’s light division was legendary, a force of tough individualists led by the man often described as the rudest man in the army.
General Robert Craufurd had an unusually good relationship with his enlisted men despite being a harsh disciplinarian, very willing to use flogging. This was because despite his strict reputation, he was also known to care for the welfare of his men in a way that few generals did, working hard to ensure that they were fed and well-equipped. He seemed often to be more comfortable with the men than their officers. With a few notable exceptions, the officers of the light division did not like Craufurd. He had an uneven temper and thought nothing of yelling at officers in exactly the same way as he did the men. They considered him rude, sarcastic and a bully.
In 1810 Craufurd was keen to show that the confidence which Wellington placed in him was not undeserved. A sensitive man, he could not forget that he was four years older than Beresford, five years older than Wellington, eight years older than Hill, but still a junior brigadier-general in charge of a division. He was older and had been in the army longer than most of Wellington’s other commanders but promotion was slow in coming, possibly because of his somewhat abrasive personality.
The Light Division was moved up to the Spanish frontier, and settled in the villages around the fortress town of Almeida with its outposts pushed forward to the line of the River Agueda. From March to July 1810 Craufurd accomplished the extraordinary feat of guarding a front of 40 miles against an active enemy with six times more men. Not once did the French split his line or find out any information about Wellington’s gathering forces at his rear. He was in constant and daily touch with Ney’s corps, but was never surprised, and seldom pushed back; he never lost a detachment or sent his commander false intelligence. General Robert Craufurd’s activity on the border that year gave Wellington everything he needed for the coming campaign.
There were four bridges and around fifteen fords between Ciudad Rodrigo and the mouth of the Agueda, all of which were practicable in dry weather and some even after a day or two of rain. Craufurd insisted on reports being made on the state of the fords every morning. Beacons were set up on the heights so as to communicate information about the French movements and it took less than ten minutes for his division to get under arms in the middle of the night, and a quarter of an hour, night or day, to bring it in to full order of battle with baggage loaded and assembled.
One of the light division’s most famous skirmishes during this period came at the old Roman bridge at Barba del Puerco. Ferey sent six companies of voltigeurs, the French light skirmishers, to take the bridge before dawn. He was able to bayonet the sentries on the bridge before they could get off a shot and was halfway up the slope towards the village of Puerto Seguro, but Craufurd’s system was foolproof and within ten minutes Sydney Beckwith’s detachment of rifles were upon him. They drove him down the slope and back across the river at speed with the loss of almost fifty men, while Beckwith lost only four men killed and ten wounded.
Occasionally, Craufurd’s daring got the better of him. At the combat of the Coa in July 1810 he took his men across the river in direct contravention of Wellington’s orders and escaped annihilation by the skin of his teeth. Wellington was furious but quickly forgave the man he considered essential to his success in keeping the French at bay. He later wrote:
“I cannot accuse a man who I believe has meant well, and whose error was one of judgement, not of intention.”
Bridge over the Coa
At this point, in my novels, Paul van Daan’s battalion of the 110th is still operating independently under Wellington’s command. Increasingly, however, Wellington is sending Paul into action with the Light Division. Initially the Captain of the 110th light company, Paul is now beginning to train his entire battalion as skirmishers and it is clear where he wants to be. His relationship with Craufurd is surprisingly good, although with the frequent explosions to be expected of two determined individualists. Their relationship might not have survived their very public disagreement at the Coa when Paul disobeys Craufurd’s direct order so that his men can cover the retreat. It is Anne, newly married, who persuades Paul that as the junior of the two it is Paul’s job to apologise. From this point on, no matter what their differences, Craufurd and Paul present a united front, something which must have surprised many people. As with many other relationships in the army, Paul’s path is smoothed by his lovely, clever wife’s diplomatic skills and she and Craufurd are firm friends.
Craufurd’s Command Post at Bussaco
At Bussaco later that year, Craufurd more than redeemed himself, and Wellington was annoyed when his general insisted on returning to England for the winter to see Mary and recover from some health problems. He threatened half heartedly to give Craufurd’s division to another to command, but the disaster of Sir William Erskine’s temporary command of the light division made it unlikely he would ever carry through on that threat. In May, Craufurd reappeared on the field at Fuentes d’Onoro to the loud cheers of his men, a typically theatrical entrance. He then proceeded, within twenty-four hours, to demonstrate just how it was done when he saved the 7th division and the whole of Wellington’s right flank by making a textbook fighting withdrawal. By now, Paul is in charge of the third brigade, finally part of the light division, and takes an important part in the battle. Robert Craufurd was promoted to Major-General on 4 June 1811.
Seven months later in January 1812, Black Bob Craufurd was shot down in the lesser breach during the storming of Ciudad Rodrigo at the age of 48. Typically, he was high up, shouting orders to his men and did not seem to have realised how exposed his position had become, standing in two fire lines. Typically, in my story at least, it was the youngest and most awkward of his brigade commanders who helps carry him from the field and is with him to the end. The men of his light division were devastated. Craufurd took four days to die, the bullet having passed through his lung and lodged against his spine, and he was buried with honour in the breach where he had fallen. Wellington mourned him deeply and must have frequently wished, through the rest of the war, that his most difficult but talented commander had survived to make the journey with him.
Craufurd and Wellington were not close friends although in some ways they were very alike. Both were brilliant commanders, clever and well-educated in military matters. Both could be demanding, meticulous and found it hard to tolerate anything but perfection. Both struggled at times with managing their officers although Craufurd was better than Wellington with his enlisted men, something he shares with his fictional junior. The two men had an enormous respect for one another. Craufurd was a sensitive man, considering his own rudeness at times, and Wellington frequently offended him but always made sure to put it right by complimenting Craufurd’s many talents soon afterwards. He deeply mourned his difficult, irascible commander and on his deathbed, Craufurd apologised for the many occasions he had been less than supportive of his commander in chief.
The next commander of the Light Division was a surprise to many. General Charles von Alten was German, very correct, very likely to obey orders, very different to Black Bob Craufurd. Military historians have not all been kind to Von Alten, claiming that he lacked the zest and panache of his somewhat eccentric predecessor although he seems to have commanded the division very competently through the rest of the war.
In my novels, there is a reason for Wellington’s choice, and it is summed up very succinctly by Anne van Daan, speaking of Von Alten.
“He’s not as staid as you’d think. They’ll disagree at times, but Von Alten is a very clever man, Johnny. He knows what he’s good at, but he also knows his limitations, and he’s going to use Paul to fill that gap. In some ways it will work better than General Craufurd did. Craufurd was every bit as brilliant an improviser as Paul. They loved working together but it was overkill. Von Alten is a far better fit. He’ll bring the stability and the organisational skills and Paul will provide the flashes of brilliance. And this – this is what they share. The work ethic to be up at dawn when the rest of the army is still resting and recovering, training the new recruits. Von Alten is genuinely keen to learn how this works, and Paul loves the fact that he’s down here listening and watching instead of being up at headquarters being nice to Wellington.” (An Uncommon Campaign)
Although the third brigade and its flamboyant commander are a figment of my imagination, perhaps there is something in this. Wikipedia gives this brief description of an action from the Battle of the Nivelle:
Statue of General Colborne outside Winchester Barracks
While the 43rd and 95th were dealing with the French on the Rhune, there still remained one very strong star-shaped fort below on the Mouiz plateau which reached out towards the coast. This was attacked by Colborne’s 52nd, supported by riflemen from the 95th. Once again, the French were surprised and the British succeeded. They had, in the French eyes, appeared from the ground at which point, in danger of being cut off, the French soldiers quickly fled leaving Colborne in possession of the fort and other trenches without loss of a single fatal casualty.
It sounds like the kind of action at which Robert Craufurd would have excelled. Perhaps after his death Wellington realized that the officers and men he had trained had turned into independent skirmishers to such a degree that a Charles von Alten was needed to rein them in. Perhaps it was true that while he had men like Colborne and Vandeleur and Barnard, he did not need another Robert Craufurd.
Whatever the truth of it, I love Craufurd, a brilliant, flawed and very human man who believed in God, loved his children and adored his wife.
With four of the Peninsular War Saga published on Kindle and in paperback, I thought it was time to update this post on life in Wellington’s Peninsular Army.
Leaving O’Reilly and Carter to line up the men and march them to the
Book 2 of the Peninsular War Saga
barracks, Paul rode on ahead. He was surprised to hear signs of activity on his approach. Perhaps after all their new lieutenants were managing drills already. If that were true, it was a good sign. Touching his heel to Rufus’ flank he cantered further ahead of his company and rode in through the arched gate of the barracks, noticing that the painted sign was hanging down. He would set somebody to righting it tomorrow. Abruptly Paul reined in, staring at the open square. The battalion was lined up around three sides, around three or four hundred men, he would guess. In the centre was a triangular wooden frame, and a man was tied to it. A corporal, sweating in the heat of the late morning sun, was wielding a lash and as it fell, the victim gave a scream of pain. His back was a bloody mess. Around a hundred, Paul estimated, as he swung down from the saddle. The back rank of men noticed his arrival, and Paul motioned to the nearest man to take his horse. The infantryman did so with hesitation. Paul still wore the coat he had ridden in, with no insignia and there was no sign that he was anything other than a civilian. He walked forward. The two officers of the battalion were standing at the front of their men. They were young, probably no more than twenty-one or two, and both wore sparkling new uniforms, their hats cocked at exactly the right angle. There the resemblance ended. One was watching the flogging with an expression of apparent approval. He was tall and dark with a thin handsome face and hazel coloured eyes. The other lieutenant was shorter and slighter with soft brown hair and a pair of fine grey eyes, which watched in apparent horror. His face was white and he did not look well. It was the dark man who saw him first. Paul walked past him towards the whipping post. The corporal paused in his work, looking unsurely at Paul and then over at the lieutenant. “I think that’s probably enough for today, Corporal,” Paul said quietly. “Take him down. Carefully, now.” “Who the devil are you, sir?” the dark lieutenant demanded. He had a clear baritone. “This man’s punishment is not yet finished!” “I was going to ask you the same question,” Paul said turning to him. “Who is in command here?” “I am. Lieutenant Lionel Manson, 112th foot. Don’t know who the devil you are, but you’ve no place coming in here interfering with discipline, sir! If you’ve a message, it can wait until we’re done!” “You are done, Mr Manson. Cut him down, Corporal – don’t make me ask again, I’ve had a long ride.” Paul unbuttoned his great coat. He beckoned to a thin, white-faced private in the front row, who ran forward looking terrified. “What’s your name, lad?” “T…t…terry, sir.” “Well, Private Terry, will you take this to the officers quarters for me, please?” Paul said, taking off his coat and handing it to the boy with a pleasant smile. He turned to find that both officers had sprung to attention and were saluting. “Ah, that’s better.” The corporal called out two names, and the men ran to help lift their comrade down, just as the rest of the light company marched through the gate. Paul walked over to the man and inspected his damaged back. “How many, Corporal?” “A hundred ordered, sir. Ninety given.” “What offence?” “Don’t know, sir.” Paul nodded. “Take him to the infirmary if you’ve one set up yet. If not, lay him on his bunk, face down, and give him some rum. I’ll get somebody to look at him presently.” “Yes, sir.” Paul turned to the two officers. Michael O’Reilly had dismounted and was coming forward. “Have you introduced yourself, sir?” “I’ve not had time,” Paul said. “It’s busy in the 112th I can tell you, Mr O’Reilly.” The Irishman surveyed the two lieutenants genially. “Lieutenant O’Reilly, 110th light company. You’ll be under the command of this officer for the foreseeable future, gentlemen – Colonel Paul van Daan who commands the 110th, and now your battalion. We’ve a bit of work to do, I can see, but for the time being lets get our men settled and see what arrangements you’ve already made and then we can have a bit of a chat. I didn’t catch your names.” “I’ve met Lieutenant Manson here,” Paul said, indicating the dark lieutenant. “And this gentleman…?” “Lieutenant William Grey, sir.” “Welcome to Portugal, Lieutenant Grey. I’ll see my quarters and get settled in but you can both meet me in my office in – shall we say half an hour?” “Yes, sir,” Manson said. “But…will you not want time to wash and change and…” “Yes,” Paul said gently. “Which will take me approximately half an hour. Carry on.”
For the ordinary soldiers of Lord Wellington’s army, life was hard.
The British Army drew many of its raw recruits from the lowest classes of Britain. Since army life was known to be harsh and poorly paid it attracted mainly those for whom civilian life was worse. The Duke of Wellington’s famous quote describes them as “the scum of the earth” and claimed that many of the men “enlist from having got bastard children – some for minor offences – some for drink”. But there were other reasons.
In Scotland for example, many men enlisted due to the collapse of the weaving trade and came from skilled artisan or even middle-class households. Ireland, the source of many of Wellington’s recruits, sent men to the army in times of desperate hunger or in flight from failed rebellion. And on a regular basis, local courts would offer thieves, pickpockets and other criminals the choice between enlisting or prison. Knowing the conditions in local prisons, such men often chose the army. Some would try to desert as soon as possible but many stayed. Often, conditions in the army, although appalling, were better than at home.
Most soldiers at the time signed on for life in exchange for a “bounty” of £23 17s 6d, a lot of which was absorbed by the cost of outfitting “necessities” but a system of ‘limited service’ (seven years for infantry, ten for cavalry and artillery) was introduced in 1806 to attract recruits. Soldiers began, from 1800 onward, to receive a daily beer money allowance in addition to their regular wages; the practice was started on the orders of the Duke of York. Additionally, corporal punishment was removed for a large number of petty offences (while it was still retained for serious derelictions of duty) and the Shorncliffe System for light infantry was established in 1803, teaching skirmishing, self-reliance and initiative. Unlike other armies of the time, the British did not use conscription to bolster army numbers, with enlistment remaining voluntary.
The risk of death or permanent injury was huge. During the Peninsular Campaign, the army lost almost 25,000 men from disease while fewer than 9,000 were killed in action; however more than 30,000 were wounded in action and most battalions were permanently short of officers and men. Seriously under-strength battalions might be dissolved, merged with other remnants into “Provisional battalions” or temporarily drafted into other regiments.
Officers ranged in background as well. Although an officer was supposed also to be a “gentleman”, this referred to an officer’s character and honourable conduct rather than his social standing. The system of sale of commissions officially governed the selection and promotion of officers, but the system was considerably relaxed during the wars. One in twenty (5%) of the officers from regular battalions had been raised from the ranks, and less than 20% of first commissions were by purchase. The Duke of York oversaw a reform of the sale of commissions, making it necessary for officers to serve two full years before either promotion or purchase to captain and six years before becoming a major. These changes however, applied more to regiments in barracks than to those on campaign. In the Peninsular War, promotion was often fast as officers were killed in action or wounded and it was possible for a man who remained in the field to move up the ranks very quickly.
Only a few officers were from the nobility; in 1809, only 140 officers were peers or peers’ sons. Many more officers came through the Militia and a small number had been gentlemen volunteers, who trained and fought as private soldiers but messed with the officers and remained as such until vacancies without purchase for commissions became available. Promotion was mainly by seniority; less than 20% of line promotions were by purchase. Promotion by merit alone did occur, but was less common, although this was very much down to the regimental commanders who could refuse to allow a promotion if they preferred another candidate. This would have enabled Paul van Daan a good deal of freedom, once he was in command, to choose his own officers and select the candidates he wanted for promotion. Officers who were disgruntled over his choices would have been free to apply to a transfer to another regiment.
In the 110th and it’s associated battalions, therefore, the mix of officers and men, their backgrounds and promotions and length of service is very typical. Their commanding officer is very young for his rank, a consequence of plenty of money and a good background combined with a lot of talent and the friendship of the commander-in-chief. The 110th is not a fashionable regiment and does not attract the aristocracy. Most of Paul’s young officers are from the middle classes or county families and a lot of them live on their pay. This works well for them in the 110th since Paul’s regiment is well organised and the mess bills are very reasonable. In some regiments, particularly the cavalry, a man might buy a commission and then be unable to keep up with the expensive lifestyle of the regiment, where most of the officers came from wealthy families. Some of Paul’s young officers can afford to purchase commissions and promotions, but for those who can not he is fierce in his willingness to fight with Horse Guards, Wellington and anybody else to make sure that the best men get the commissions they deserve.
The biggest difference in the 110th is in the conditions of the ordinary infantryman. From the first, Paul van Daan takes a very different view of life in the army, probably stemming from his two years below decks in the Royal Navy as a boy. He is on very good terms with his enlisted men and NCOs while at the same time having very high expectations of them. He refuses to use flogging, and rarely gets the provost marshals – the policemen of Wellington’s army – involved with matters of discipline except in very serious cases such as rape and murder.
The 110th have tents for all their men as early as 1809 while the rest of Wellington’s army had to wait until 1813 before tents were issued to all of them. By then Wellington had improved his supply lines and the commissariat was working better as well, but it was undoubtedly true in the earlier years of his campaigns that enlisted men and their wives and children often slept in the open in all weathers or under tents fashioned from their blankets, and when supplies failed which they did from time to time, they starved.
It was extraordinary how many men did have wives or girlfriends, often local women they met during campaigns. Lord Wellington and many other senior officers preferred men not to have wives with them but the practice was tolerated largely because it was difficult to stop such liaisons springing up. Theoretically only a few men in each company was allowed to take a wife on campaign with them but many women stowed away. The women were invaluable doing laundry and mending, helping with the nursing and cooking and it would have been hard for the army to manage without them. They too were subject to army discipline and could be flogged or punished.
It was a hard and dangerous life. Into this world as an eighteen year old bride, Anne Carlyon arrived in 1809, just before Wellesley marched to drive the French out of Oporto. Officers wives did come to Portugal and stayed in Lisbon or joined their men during winter quarters if the location was fairly safe. But Anne was different from the start, choosing to make the army her home. She rode and marched with the men, worked with the surgeons digging out shot and stitching sabre cuts and discovered a whole new side to herself that she would never have known if she had stayed at home.
She also fell in love.
Book 1 in the Peninsular War Saga
The Peninsular War saga is a new series about the men and women of Wellington’s army and about the battles and the politics of the fight against Napoleon. It is the story of a wealthy and privileged young man who rose to command one of the finest regiments in the army and of the extraordinary young woman who shared his life.
It is also the story of an army and it’s customs and of the ordinary men who fought and died with their officers. And what Wellington actually said about them was that they were “the scum of the earth; it is really wonderful that we should have made them into the fine fellows they are.”
The books are available on Amazon, both in kindle and in paperback.
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The Battle of Waterloo changed everything. 
The Battle of Waterloo was fought on Sunday, 18 June 1815 in Belgium which was then part of the United Kingdom of the Netherlands. A French army under the command of Napoleon Bonaparte was defeated by two of the armies of the Seventh Coalition: an English-led Allied army under the command of the Duke of Wellington, and a Prussian army under the command of Gebhard Leberecht von Blücher, Prince of Wahlstatt.
Upon Napoleon’s return to power in March 1815, many states that had opposed him formed the Seventh Coalition, and began to mobilize armies. Wellington and Blücher’s armies were situated close to the north-eastern border of France and Bonaparte needed to attack and attack fast before the rest of the coalition could join them. The days of the Grande Army were long gone. Bonaparte had landed from Elba with a tiny force although he was picking up troops far more quickly than anybody had expected. Still many of his men were new recruits without the training and discipline of his armies of old, and he needed to buy time to bring them up to scratch. If he could defeat the English and Prussian armies he might be able to negotiate a temporary peace which would give him some time.
Upon learning that the Prussian army was able to support him, 
Crucially, the Prussians did not retreat to the east, along their own lines of communication. Instead, they, too, fell back northwards—parallel to Wellington’s line of march but still within communication with the English commander. The Prussians rallied on Bülow’s IV Corps, which had not been engaged at Ligny and was in a strong position south of Wavre and 
code breaker to make sense of them. He found that in Major George Scovell, an unassuming officer of the quartermaster-general’s department who became a crucial player in Wellington’s winning the war.
Cordelia and Giles from 
Kit and Philippa from 
I’ve been lucky enough to see an example of a very happy marriage with my parents. They’d been married for over fifty years when my Dad died and there were definitely ups and downs. But they stayed devoted to one another. Theirs is a story I’d like to write one day
way and other than Lord Wellington, one of my absolute favourites has to be General Robert Craufurd, known to the army as Black Bob, the irascible genius who commanded the Light Division, the elite troops of Wellington’s army.
