Showing posts with label 19th Century. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 19th Century. Show all posts

Saturday, June 26, 2021

The Maltese Cat

 I was at loose ends the other night - just finished my last book, didn't have a new one in view, and wasn't interested in the offerings of the tube - and I was pulling over the shelves beside the bed and came across my old 1898 volume of The Day's Work.

It's not the first edition, unfortunately, but the second, and was picked up in a rumpled old used bookstore along the coast, I think, had before and has since then seen a lot of wear. The spine is broken and the pages are hanging on by the threads of the sewn binding. I've cared for it gently, but it's not in great shape.

And...it's an...odd little book.

There's thirteen stories within it and they're all rather slantendicular and many are paranormal, ranging from the truly weird The Brushwood Boy (where our hero, the stock-Kipling stalwart young infantry officer, meets the woman of his dreams literally in the surrealist dreams which they share) to some Anglo-Indian romanticizing (The Bridge Builders, where a similar British hero - bridge engineer rather than subaltern - is subsumed in a conclave of the talking creatures that represent the old Indian gods his creation has disturbed) to straight-up anthropomorphism in the Jungle Book-style.

Some of them I enjoy more than others (I've never actually managed to struggle through .007 or William The Conqueror Part 1 and my tolerance for his full-throated paeans to colonialism like The Tomb of His Ancestors - as clever and touching a tale as it is, and it is clever, and parts of it are touching -is fairly limited; I've read too many Indian authors to elide the "faithful native" claptrap that comes with Kipling in paint-the-map-red mode.

Though not as impatient as George Orwell was; his takedown of the guy is pretty epic (has ever a writer or poet been dismissed as brutally and summarily as this: "He dealt largely in platitudes, and since we live in a world of platitudes, much of what he said sticks."? Daaaaamn...)

The Kipling I loved as a child and the least harrumph-able are his animal tales. The echoes of imperial hubris are faint in the Jungle Books (although I have my eye on Bagheera, that fusty old colonial mug...) and there's a version in The Day's Work - a story about polo.

I know absolutely nothing about the game other than it's a ballgame played on horseback and supposedly the Argentines are now the bosses of it. I know that to play at any sort of high level today you have to be filthy rich, because it's a horse thing and all horse things are rich now that horses are a luxury good and not a working tool.

Not in the 1890s, though (or more likely the 1880s, the period when the guy was working in British India); a British officer rode to work, and keeping an extra hayburner or three wasn't so much of a big deal.

Hence the story; our hero, the gray polo pony of the title, and his equine teammates are carrying the British officers of an Indian engineer outfit (they're called "pioneers", which were the 19th Century version of combat engineers - the guys who built fortifications and bridges and all that. "Sappers" were the tunnel guys, which was a separate specialty...). They're playing a fancy cavalry (meaning: rich) outfit for the Big Casino, and the story is the story of that game.

That's it, that's the bones. The real meat is in the telling, and that's where our guy Kipling gets to cut loose.

"The question was which pony should make way for the other; each rider was perfectly willing to risk a fall in a good cause. The black who had been driven nearly crazy by his blinkers trusted to his weight and his temper; but Benami knew how to apply his weight and how to keep his temper. 

They met, and there was a cloud of dust. The black was lying on his side with all the breath knocked out of his body. The Rabbit was a hundred yards up the ground with the ball, and Benami was sitting down. He had slid nearly ten yards, but he had had his revenge, and sat cracking his nostrils till the black pony rose.

‘That’s what you get for interfering. Do you want any more?’ said Benami, and he plunged into the game. 

Nothing was done because Faiz Ullah would not gallop, though Macnamara beat him whenever he could spare a second. The fall of the black pony had impressed his companions tremendously, and so the Archangels could not profit by Faiz Ullah’s bad behaviour."

A little over 7,000 words paints a vivid little picture of a place and a time and a day and the people - including the four-hooved people - in it. In that short space Kipling gives you a whole cast of characters, from Lutyens and Macnamara and Powell above the saddles to grumpy Benami and slippery Faiz Ullah and Who's Who snorting through his nose in Australian below.

So buried in this largely-forgotten volume from a now-widely dismissed author is this perfect little gem of a tale; brightly and briskly told, sharply drawn, thoroughly engaging and entertaining even to a reader who, over a century later, knows almost nothing about the subject and the setting.

Goddamn it, that's writing.

That's why it's hard to just toss Kipling into the dustbin of history as just another imperial relic. Yes, he's all the things his detractors, that Orwell, say he is. But, dammit, the man could write when the humor was on him, and he's left us with stories like this. That has to count for something.

As we discussed in the last post here; life is complicated, and sometimes we just have to accept that there is worth to be found in some dark places, and darkness in the shiniest of vistas. Sometimes you have to take in the flaws to accept the value. Or, as the Cat himself says:

"Keep yourselves to yourselves," said the Maltese Cat to his companions. "We don’t want to rub noses with all those goose-rumped halfbreeds of Upper India. When we’ve won this cup they’ll give their shoes to know us."

 

Worth a look.

Sunday, October 07, 2012

Decisive Battles: Sedan 1870

Sedan Dates: 1 SEP 1870
Forces Engaged: Le Second Empire Français (French "Second Empire")

L'Armee de Chalons; an ad-hoc formation composed of four army corps, three of which had originally formed part of the Armee de la Rhin which was at the time encircled at Metz.
A French Army Corps of 1870 was typically composed of four infantry divisions, a cavalry division, and corps assets including artillery and engineers. Both infantry and cavalry divisions were so-called "square", each composed of two infantry brigades of two infantry regiments each. At this time French infantry were still divided into "line" battalions and "light" units (called chasseur battalions); although tactical order had already moved away from the old close linear formations for the heavy infantry the lights retained their specialized training for reconnaissance and screening.
These corps (1st, 5th, and 7th) were joined by the 12th Corps to make up a force of roughly 130,000 infantry and cavalry (200-odd battalions and 80-some squadrons) and somewhere between 400 and 500 cannon of all calibers.

But the simple numbers don't really tell the story of the ill-fated Army of Chalons.

First, the three regular army corps had been badly mishandled at the battles along the frontier in August. A contemporary observer is quoted in Howard (1969) describing the lot as "...an inert crowd...scarcely moving even if you kicked them, grumbling at being disturbed in their weary sleep." Many of the troops of 1st and 7th Corps had lost their rucksacks on the Frontiers campaign and had nothing but their weapons and the clothing and equipment they were wearing.

The 12th Corps was a hastily assembled odd lot consisting of a division of Marines, a regular division posted up from the Spanish border, and a third division of raw conscripts.

Eighteen battalions of the Gardes Mobile de la Seine were thrown into this over-egged souffle'; this bunch were the gawdawful bastard children of the polarization between Left and Right that was already afflicting French politics; a supposed reserve that was poorly armed and trained, neither a genuine nation-in-arms or a professional force. At Sedan they are described as responding to the traditional cry of "Long live the Emperor!" with a derisive "One! Two! Three! SHIT!"
This bordelique ambulant was notionally commanded by Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte as the Emperor of France Napoleon III, but in fact was run by Marshal Marie Edme Patrice Maurice de Mac-Mahon, 1st Duke of Magenta, the titular commander of the II Corps.

Forces of Prussia and her allies (Norddeutscher Bund and the then-independent south German states of Baden, Württemberg and Bavaria) - We in the Western hemisphere tend to forget, now that Germany has been a unified state for more than 140 years, that the old regional distinctions - Hessian, Bavarian, East Prussian, Badener - really meant something in 1870. A young soldier from Leipzig marching west in the XII Armeekorps in that eventful summer would likely to have considered himself a Saxon first, then a "German", but might well have thought that his Austrian Czech neighbor was less alien than the damn half-Danes from Schleswig-Holstein.

Which - and we'll get to that in a bit - was really the single biggest point to the human trainwreck that was the Franco-Prussian War; to make Germans German by pointing the armies of the separate German principalities at their oldest common enemy, France, and using the deaths of thousands to forge a nation.

Call it cynical, bloodyminded, and inhumane. It was all that.

But it worked.

Sorry; I have a hard time with the ruthless opportunism of this entire goddamn war. I'll try to stay on task hereafter.

At any rate, the forces that met the Armee de Chalons at Sedan consisted of two German armies, identified to history as 3rd Army and 4th Army.

The 3rd Army had crossed the frontier in August, and consisted of 12 infantry divisions in six armeekorps (V, VI, XI, I Bavarian, II Bavarian, and a combined Württemberg-Baden corps) and two cavalry corps and the usual corps odds-and-sods.
While the individual armeekorps was smaller than its French equivalent, the German infantry divisions were very similar; two brigades each of two regiments, often with a light infantry unit (Jäger-Bataillon), a cavalry squadron, and divisional artillery.
The other unit, however, was also a temporary formation, culled from the units of the German 1st and 2nd Armies, to go after the Frenchmen assembling around Chalons.

This outfit is identified as the 4th Army or Maasarmee (Army of the Meuse) and consisted of the Prussian Guard corps, VI, and XII Armeekorps of 2nd Army. The two numbered corps were fairly standard (though XII was pretty much the entire little Saxon Royal Army) but the Gardekorps was a monster; effectively a little army in itself, it included two oversize infantry divisions, a cavalry and artillery division, and its own combat trains, engineers, and other support elements.

The entire outfit comprised roughly 200,000 infantry and artillery and over 700 artillery pieces of various calibers, under the direct command of Feldmarshal Helmuth Karl Bernhard Graf von Moltke, known to history as "Moltke the Elder".
The Campaign: The story of Sedan is really the story of the end of the "maneuver phase" of the Franco-Prussian War. Everything after that is the Siege of Paris and the fall of the Commune and, really, that whole episode makes me sick at the sight of one group of Frenchmen killing another with an invader at the gate.

(A Brief Note on The Causes of the War): And I should add that in the long history of humans killing other humans the Franco-Prussian War must go down as perhaps one of the most cynical and idiotic concatenation of causes ever devised.

To make a very long story short the whole nasty business was, fundamentally, ginned up by a coterie of "greater German" ministers - led by Otto Bismarck - in order to create a modern state out of the old chaos of the German principalities. "I knew that a Franco-Prussian War must take place before a united Germany was formed." said Otto, and he got what he wanted on both scores.

But the French "leadership" was little better. There was no real gain for the average Frenchman in fighting the German states, any more than for the average German in fighting France. But the Bonapartist faction wanted some bread and circuses for the masses to distract from the fact that the Emperor and his clique were steadily suppressing any degree of republican reforms. Their ridiculous and sordid bit of colonial farce in Mexico had ended in a dusty field in Queretaro three years earlier. Perhaps the truly risible part of the war is that the people who were least capable of fighting and winning it wanted it as much or more than those who had planned it to the last millimeter.

We in the populist 21st Century speak of "cabinet wars" as shorthand for the sort of venal little conflicts fought in Europe during the Era of Monarchs; this one might well stand for all of them. No gain was to be had for Jacques Saque-de-Dejeunier and Hans Mittagessen-sacke; theirs was to pay the price in blood, pain, and suffering while the ambitious men who led them to those miserable fates were, at worst, humiliated and exiled.

It truly was a wretched little war.)


The "public reason" for the conflict centered around a series of diplomatic caprioles performed to attempt to seat a Prussian Hohenzollern prince on the throne of Spain. But the two powers had been snarling at each other for some time; France chafing and pushing against the limits set on it after the first Napoleon's fall, Germany (and the Bismarck clique) seeing a successful conflict with the old Champion of Europe as a way to make the bones of a new, Prussian-led German state.

In early July of 1870 the then caudillo of Spain offered the Spanish throne to one Leopold Stephan Karl Anton Gustav Eduard Tassilo Fürst von Hohenzollern, a minor princeling of the Prussian royal lineage. Here he is, by the way. Nice beaver, eh?

The French press and public about had a fit, and what didn't help was that the Emperor was doubled over at the moment by an acute attack of his bladder stones caused by the clap (odd, those things that history hinges on, isn't it?) and his wife Eugénie, who was something of a hardass and Spanish in the bargain was in charge and inclined to take no prisoners.

One wonders if Nappie's clap had something to do with this.

Anyway.

The French foreign ministry (in the person of its ambassador to Berlin, a mook named Benedetti) was instructed to give the word to the King of Prussia.

This took place at the spa at Ems, where the German king was "taking the waters", i.e. having a bit of a vacation.
The King of Prussia, Wilhelm Hohenzollern, first of that name, was perfectly willing to tell Cousin Leo that he wasn't going to be crowned in Madrid. Bismarck despaired, France celebrated, and both the French and Prussian warlovers wah-wahed like sad trombones.

"The country will be disappointed, but what can we do?" whined the French Emperor in mid-July. But when on 11 JUL 1870 Benedetti turned up again and demanded that Willy NEVER allow his relative to be King of Spain the Prussian sniffed and walked away.

He then cabled his government in Berlin thusly:
"Count Benedetti spoke to me on the promenade, in order to demand from me, finally in a very importunate manner, that I should authorize him to telegraph at once that I bound myself for all future time never again to give my consent if the Hohenzollerns should renew their candidature. I refused at last somewhat sternly, as it is neither right nor possible to undertake engagements of this kind à tout jamais. Naturally I told him that I had as yet received no news, and as he was earlier informed about Paris and Madrid than myself, he could clearly see that my government once more had no hand in the matter. His Majesty has since received a letter from the Prince. His Majesty having told Count Benedetti that he was awaiting news from the Prince, has decided with reference to the above demand, upon the representation of Count Eulenburg and myself, not to receive Count Benedetti again, but only to let him be informed through an aide-de-camp that his Majesty had now received from the Prince confirmation of the news which Benedetti had already received from Paris, and had nothing further to say to the ambassador. His Majesty leaves it to your Excellency whether Benedetti's fresh demand and its rejection should not be at once communicated both to our ambassadors and to the press."
Which our boy Bismarck undertook to...ummm...improve a little before releasing it to the public press. When he did, this is what it said:
"Count Benedetti spoke to me on the promenade, in order to demand from me, finally in a very importunate manner, that I should authorize him to telegraph at once that I bound myself for all future time never again to give my consent if the Hohenzollerns should renew their candidature. His Majesty has decided not to receive Count Benedetti again, but only to let him be informed through an aide-de-camp that his Majesty and had nothing further to say to the ambassador."
See the difference?
This little gem is now referred to as the "Ems Dispatch", and was issued to the inky scribblers on 13 JUL. It worked like a charm; it pissed off the French because it made it sound like Willy had flipped off their ambassador, and it pissed of the Germans because it made it sound like the little Franco-Italian had been rude and snotty to their prince.

The French press, public, and the war party led by Nappie and his missus promptly went utterly batshit. The French declaration of war was delivered on 19 JUL 1870.

The first six weeks of war were a perfect disaster for France.

France's army was a full-time professional force of about 400,000. The Prussian/North German active forces were smaller but were backed up by the successor to the Napoleonic "Krumper System" that could field over 1 million troops within weeks of mobilization, and did.

By contrast, the French mobilization was a mess of poor planning and poor execution, hampered by regional division, political infighting, and pure incompetence.
The two sides met first at the Battle of Wörth on 6 AUG 1870 and Marshal MacMahon, who commanded the right wing of the Army of the Rhine fell back to the south and west, having taken, and given, about 4,000 casualties.

But worst was happening to the French left, posted along the border between Sierck and Spicheren. Four corps; II, III, IV, and VI, met the full weight of both German 1st and 2nd Armies at Spicheren on the same day and were slammed backward towards Metz.

Although both sides also lost about 4,000 lives Marshal Achille Bazaine, the commander of the French left, seemed to completely lose his composure and his command. The retreat west was not so much a retreat as a shamble, and when the German forces slipped behind the French mob the movement stopped; Mars-la-Tour on 16 AUG and Gravelotte-St. Privat on 18 AUG effectively penned Baziane's troops inside fortified Metz.
The bulk of the French forces were beaten and surrounded.
McMahon's I and V Corps continued southwest to the Meuse, and from there northwest to Chalons, where we met them earlier.

Meanwhile the German 1st and 2nd Armies invested Sedan while the 3rd pursed MacMahon to Luneville and then turned northwest down the valley of the Meurthe, through Nancy, and west across the Meuse to Bar-le-Duc.

So in the last couple of weeks of August the situation was roughly:

The French Army of the Rhine was pinned inside Metz by the German 1st and part of the 2nd Army.

The force that would become the Army of Chalons was, well...at Chalons.

Therethe Emperor Napoleon III met with his commanders in Chalons on 17 AUG. This conference, in which the sick, dispirited ruler played little part, MacMahon, GEN Trochu of XII Corps, the commander of the Gardes Mobiles GEN Berthaut, and Napoleon's cousin Joseph (known to history by his ridiculous nickname "Plon-plon") devised a plan in which the Army of Chalons would march west and took up defensive positions east of Paris.

With this in mind GEN Trochu was appointed to command the Paris garrison and shipped out to prepare the capital for the arrival of its ruler and its last field army.

But here the very resistible force of the Emperor and his commanders ran into an immovable object: the Empress Eugénie.

She had been designated Napoleon's regent in Paris when he left to join the troops, and she was insistent; the Emperor would not enter the capital while she could deter him. "The Army of Chalons will make its junction with the Army of Metz!" she declared.

This delusion was fostered by a message from Bazaine received by the Army of Chalons on 22 AUG, stating that after a short respite to reorganize the Army of the Rhine would break out to the west and fight its way by way of either Montmedy or Sedan to join the Emperor's forces at Chalons.

Meanwhile MacMahon had marched his force northwest to Rheims, still hoping for authorization to turn west to Paris.

In fact the Army of the Rhine was immobilized, and when the the Army of Chalons marched out of Rheims on 23 AUG it was in pursuit of a phantasm, a illusion as hollow as the Emperor Napoleon, the man who Bismarck had dismissed as "a sphinx without a riddle."

The French Army of Chalons was moving north with the idea of slipping around the German right, down the Franco-Belgian border and catching the besiegers of Metz like the coyote did the farmer's wife; by surprise and from behind.

Here's where Moltke showed his mettle.

To most of the German officers in the field marshal's staff the idea that the Army of Chalons might be farkling about northeastern France was unthinkable. These guys thought of war as a science, and the notion of maneuvering based on a combination of hope and wishful thinking was...well, unscientific. And suicidal.

On 24 AUG the Stabschef learned - from of all things, a London Times article - that MacMahon did, indeed, plan to attempt to break Bazaine out of Metz. The following day, when reports began to filter in from cavalry recon patrols that a French force was moving northeast in the vicinity of Sedan, Moltke ordered the German 3rd and the new 4th Army to wheel right and march north towards Grand-Pre' just east of MacMahon's new force.
The weather that summer was poor; cold, and wet. The roads north from Chalons were poor, and you recall that the troops of I and V Corps were not in good shape to begin with. Straggling was endemic, march and camp discipline was poor.

I suspect that aggressive patrolling was an early casualty; tired troops are not motivated to scout well or keep good security. So it doesn't surprise me that the first engagement of Sedan consisted of a German force surprising the French Vth Corps on 30 AUG and giving them a round ass-kicking.

The German outfit was all 4th Army and a perfectly heterogeneous pre-unification mob of various deutschvolk; Saxons from XII. Armeekorps, the VI. Armeekorps with guys from Anhalt, Prussian Saxony and Freistaat Thüringen, and the southerners of I. Königlich Bayerisches Armee-Korps.

Both sides in this war had learned the hard lessons of the previous decade; they didn't try marching into rifle fire in close order as the German and Austrian troops had in 1866 and their American cousins had done in 1865. Open order was the rule, with artillery to provide covering fire.

But some lessons were still to be learned. The notion of fire-and-movement, with small units dividing into troops moving and others firing, was in its early stages. Coordination between larger units was impossible, and between infantry and artillery spare at best.

The French infantry was armed with a relatively modern weapon, the Fusil modèle 1866 better known as the chassepot after its inventor.
To a modern soldier it is an awkward-looking transition from the muzzle-loading rifles of the 1860s and the brass cartridge firing rifles of WW1. It fired an 11mm - almost half an inch diameter - lead slug wrapped with its black powder charge in a paper cartridge. But no fumbling with percussion caps - it had an internal primer that was set off by a firing pin.

The chassepot combined with the French adoption of the rifle pit and the trench made French infantry deadly at long ranges, well-protected at short ranges, and hard to overrun. The German landser had a similar but older weapon, the leichtes Perkussionsgewehr Model 1841 better known as the
Zündnadelgewehr or "needle-gun" for the way the skinny firing pin looked like a needle to the troopers of the 1840s. The shortcomings of this older breechloader - poor reliability and short range - were badly exposed in 1870, and the German guys paid for it in lives.

So even though the tired poilus of Vth Corps were jumped in their fartsacks at Beaumont they traded about even-up casualties from rifle fire.

It was the artillery that broke them.

The French Army of 1870 was still using the same weapons their grandfathers had in 1815; brass or steel muzzle-loading wooden-carriage 12-pounder cannon firing solid ball, shrapnel, and case or canister shot for close range.
The German armies, however, were equipped with the all-steel Krupp ordnance, primarily the 80mm 6-Pfünder-Feldkanone C/64 firing a contact-fuzed shell. This enabled the gunners to stand off of the infantry and hammer them, which the German kannoniere did at every engagement in 1870.

Beaumont was no exception, and the German arty smashed Vth Corps and sent it reeling north.

7,500 Frenchmen never left Beaumont.

MacMahon must have been stunned; he had no idea that there was an angry German within a dozen grid squares of his force and here were the damn sausage-gobblers kicking in the door.

He pulled his forces in to the fortified city of Sedan over the night of 30 AUG/1 SEP to attempt to assess the situation and before he could attempt anything more the German armies were upon him.

The ring was closing around the last Emperor, and the last Imperial Army, of France.

The Sources: Since the invention of the "war correspondant" in the mid-1850's we have an outside source to augment the usual state papers and official records. In this case the contemporary reporting was particularly vivid, this being the latest and largest of a series of wars that disturbed central Europe in the latter part of the 19th Century.
Primary sources are numerous, and accessible.

Several sources are readily available to the English-speaking Internet browser. The Wikipedia entry for the battle is brief and somewhat confusing; for example, the identity and origin of the German "Army of the Meuse" is never discussed, and the actual conduct of the battle is rather poorly laid out. The website Franco-Prussian War does a rather nice job of discussing the entire conflict but the page for Sedan echoes the Wiki confusion.

There is a wealth of printed material on the Franco-Prussian War, although the earliest I can find appears to be George Hooper's 1887 work The Campaign of Sedan. This work proved durable, going through several editions through the Teens, and has even been reproduced again this year. I was unable to obtain a copy but reviewers consider it a solid and reliable account of the campaign.

Douglas Fermer produced a study of the war focusing on Sedan in 2008. Sedan 1870: The Eclipse of France seems to be worth the effort for a student of the battle and the larger war in general. Geoffrey Wawro's 2003 Franco-Prussian War is another fine work, as is Micheal Howard's 1961 The Franco-Prussian War: The German Invasion of France, 1870-1871
Unfortunately the people at Osprey have neglected this engagement, although the little volume covering Gravelotte and St. Privat are among the most concise and useful for the student of the purely military aspects of the war. (And someone named John Hamil has done a nice little webpage on this engagement, complete with panoramic photos of the battlefield today. Well worth a look...)

The Engagement: On 1 SEP the dispositions of the Army of Chalons looked something like this:
The Meuse River formed a barrier to the southwest that appears to have been defended by the remnants of V Corps and the Sedan garrison troops.

To the east XII Corps was dug in stretching roughly three miles along the little valley of the Givonne stream, a tributary of the Meuse. The Marines held the weakest point, the little town of Bazeilles at the junction of the watercourses.

I Corps held the northeastern perimeter, from the Givonne (and the village of Givonne) to to the village of Itly north of Sedan. VII Corps completed the ring, holding the northwest from Itly down another stream valley past the village of Floing to the Meuse.

The German 3. Armee spanned the length of the Meuse, with two Bavarian corps south of the city, while the Saxons of 6 Armeekorps crossed the Meuse south of the junction of the Chiers River and moved on Bazeilles and the town of La Moncelle to the north.

The remaining two units of 3. Armee (5. and 11. Armeekorps) were freed up by the larger number of attackers to cross the Meuse unopposed at Donchery and from there north to the village of Vrigne-aux-Bois in preparation to descending on the French left.

The Maasarmee units closed on the perimeter from the east; the 12. Armeekorps just to the right of the Saxons, and the Prussian Guard from due east through Frencheval and Villiers Cernay.

On both sides those more perceptive than others immediately appreciated the relative positions of the French and German armies.

"Now we have them in a mousetrap!" chuckled Moltke, looking over the situation map at 3. Armee on 30 AUG, while from the heights of the southwest bank of the Meuse GEN Ducrot had a little more picturesque take on the upcoming fight;
"We're in the crapper, and they're going to shit on us."

Rather surprisingly, the engagement opened with the surrounded French attacking in a thick fog.

I Corps attacked eastwards from Givonne, but the main effort was by XII Corps around La Moncelle and Bazeilles. Here the Marines were met by the Bavarian troops of 1. König. Bay. Armeekorps and the Saxons of VI Armeekorps at the unearthly hour of 0400.
From Bazeilles the fighting spread northeast along the valley of the Givonne, where, again, the German artillery was indeed the King of Battle; "an avalanche of iron" according to GEN Lebrun. Here MacMahon was wounded not long after dawn while riding out to recon the first contact.

Command fell to GEN Ducrot, who recognized that the eastern flank was a mere amusement and foresaw the arrival of 3. Armee on the western flank; he ordered an immediate disengagement and withdrawal to the west, brushing aside the 5. and 11. Armeekorps en route to Mezieres.

Had Ducrot been able to execute his retreat at least a portion of the army might have escaped the trap, but Fate arrived in the person of GEN de Wimpffen, who had joined the Army of Chalons just three days before.

This guy was a real piece of work; he has been described as "(a)rrogant, overbearing, and fairly bristling with contempt" (Bierman, 1988) for his fellow officers, de Wimpffen snarled "We need a victory!" to Ducrot as he issued orders for a renewed attacks.

("You will be very lucky if by this evening you even have a retreat." was Ducrot's acid reply.)

Pulling battalions from the other three corps he threw these at the Saxons near La Moncelle and the Bavarians around Bazeilles.
This held the line for several hours, but Prussian reinforcements and the damned German artillery continued to hammer at the French infantry.

And by 1100 hours the 3. Armee had shaken out their attack lines against the weakened VII Corps to the northwest, the Prussian Guard were pushing in at Givonne, and the French defenses began to give way all along the perimeter.

In perhaps the saddest moment of a very grim day the French cavalry led by GEN Margueritte attacked 11. Armeekorps around Floing in the best Napoleonic fashion.
The four bedraggled regiments of Chasseurs d'Afrique regiments launched three desperate attacks. Here's how Micheal Howard describes it:
While the squadrons collected in a hollow above Cazal, sorting themselves out under shellfire into two massive lines, Margueritte rode out to reconnoitre the slopes towards Floing and the Meuse down which the charge was to be made.

He was hit: a bullet passed through his face, mangling his jaw and tongue, and his appalled squadrons saw the figure of their general returning over the crest, supported by his two aides, with enough strength only to raise one arm to point towards the enemy before he collapsed.

An angry murmur came from the ranks - "Vengez-le! ["Avenge him!"]" and the whole mass of horsemen moved up over the crest, past the disorganised lines of their infantry, to increase speed slowly from to trot to canter to gallop until they were thundering down the slope in an avalanche which it seemed that no human power could arrest. But as at Morsbach, as at Vionville, it was shown that when faced with resolute men armed with breech-loading rifles all the anachronistic splendour and courage of French chivalry was impotent.

The German skirmishing lines were overrun, but the supporting formations stood immovable and poured their volleys into the advancing mass. At no point was German line broken. The cavalry torrent divided and swept by it to either side, northwards towards Illy to return to their own ranks, southward to crash into the quarries of Gaulier or to be rounded up in the valley towards Glaire, leaving the carcasses of horses and the bodies of their riders lying thick in front of the German lines.

As the survivors of the charge rallied, Ducrot sought out their [new] commander, General de Gallifet, and asked him whether they could try again. "As often as you like, mon général," replied Gallifet cheerfully, "so long as there's one of us left." So the scattered squadrons were rallied and once more the watchers above Frénois saw them plunging down the hill to certain destruction. King Wilhem was stirred to exclaim at their courage in words still carved on their memorial above Floing: "Ah! Les braves gens!" but it was not for him to lament that it was courage tragically wasted.
Here's another description, this one from historian Geoffry Wawro:
The Prussians stared in disbelief; they had two entire infantry corps with 144 guns deployed along this face of the triangle, all within range of the French attack and with perfect visibility.

Fusiliers ran back to the shelter of their rifle companies and formed lines. While the Prussian artillery gunned shrapnel and canister into the French horse, the Prussian infantry delivered three aimed salvos, each bringing down a wave of cavalry, and then shifted to Schnellfeuer, individual rapid fire. Colonel [actually General] Gaston de Gallifet led his 3rd Chasseurs d'Afrique and the remains of the Division in a second and third attacks, these too were shattered, the last at 3 p.m.

By the end, the French horses did not so much charge as pick their way gingerly over the piles of fallen mounts and men. Watching from Frénois, King Wilhem sighed: "Ah, les braves gens." Closer to the slaughter, sergeant Oskar Becher of the Prussian 94th saw only senseless butchery: "There were heaped up bodies everywhere, yet one looked in vain for a single intact, undamaged corpse; the men had been mutilated by the fire..."
By midday the French Army as an army had been destroyed.

All day the French Emperor had exposed himself to the German shellfire in what history has chosen to interpret as a conscious decision to find death on the battlefield. He failed, although several of his aides were killed around him. He, at least, had begun to recognize the hopelessness of his army's position. The lunatic de Wimpffen, on the other hand, continued to send him mad promises of victory; "Your Majesty may be quite at ease; within two hours I shall have driven your enemies into the Meuse."

By midafternoon Ducrot rode into the city of Sedan to find the ruins of the army being slaughtered.
"The streets, the squares, the gates were choked with carts, carriages, guns, the impedimentia and debris of a routed army. Bands of soldiers, without arms or knapsacks, streamed in every moment and hurried into houses and churches. At the gates, many were trampled to death."
Still the relentless Krupp fieldpieces thundered on.
Napoleon III insisted on capitulation but his generals would not agree who should bear the ignominy of raising the white flag. Finally the remorseless shelling overwhelmed even the amour-propre of the defeated officers. When Napoleon ordered the capitulation a second time his commanders did not refuse.

The tricolor was replaced by the white flag, the German Emperor dispatched an envoy to find his opposite number (the German command and staff had not known that Napoleon was with the Army of Chalons) writing a formal request for an armistice and before dusk on the first day of September the cannon finally coughed to silence and the killing was, for the moment, ended.
The Outcome: Decisive German victory
The Impact The defeat of Sedan spelled the end of the Second Empire; the defeat in the larger war (and the subsequent bloody suppression of the Paris Commune) laid out, in large part, the fissures and divisions in France that would lead, eventually, to the disasters of 1940.
The Second Empire was in many ways the embodiment of the worst of France; vainglorious, slipshod, venal, false, and corrupt. Its approach to warmaking was likewise fatally flawed; the officer corps referred to "Système D" - the disorganized chaos and "muddling through" that characterized the Second Empire military and especially the logistic and mobilization processes that failed so badly in 1870.

The Emperor himself, that riddle-less sphinx, lived another three years in agony from his bladder-stone, but his widow became a bizarre fixture in the post-imperial twilight. The death of their son the Prince Imperial in Zululand in 1879 was perhaps the most peculiar feature of that sordid little bit of imperialism. The defeat at Sedan haunted Louis-Napoleon for the remainder of his life. His dying words were "Etiez-vous à Sedan?" - "Were you at Sedan?"

The capture of the enemy's king meant that the remainder of the war was merely a struggle for terms, and after a grim winter siege of Paris (which was prolonged by the German Army's initial unwillingness to use their war-winner and shell the city, ensuring that thousands of Frenchwomen and children starved and froze to death) the French bowed to the inevitable and surrendered. Culminating Bismarck's plans Wilhelm of Prussia was proclaimed Emperor of Germany in Versailles in 1871.
Bismarck's triumph eventually turned to ashes in his mouth. The Treaty of Frankfurt required France to cede Alsace and part of Lorraine. This was demanded by the Army - Moltke and his generals were concerned about the likelihood of a vengeful France across the Rhine from Baden and Bavaria, two south German polities not all that thrilled about fighting for Prussian and north German ambitions.

Bismarck warned that this land-grab would rouse a sleeping French giant and fill it with a terrible resolve and so it did; the march to war forty-three years later was driven in large part by the drum of revanche for L'Annee Terrible.
And, of course, there were the dead, and the maimed, the women and children starved and shelled in Paris over the frightful winter of 1870-1871 and then massacred by their own soldiers that spring. The grief and the wounds of 1870 went deep into the soul of France, and those scars were reopened in 1914 and again in 1940. The French, once the Huns of Europe, have never really recovered their joy of battle; the furor Gallicus is still vanished today as though it had never been.

An American reader, pausing in his unscarred innocence to fleer at the cheese-eating surrender monkeys, might take a moment to reflect that he, and his nation, have never known - and it is to be hoped, never will know - the burden of those wounds, and that sorrow.

Touchline Tattles: I wish I had some lighthearted or silly anecdote about Sedan or the Franco-Prussian War. I don't. When I look at it I see just another step towards the massive collisions of 1914 and 1939 that devastated Europe, and overthrew all the precious strategies that Bismarck, Louis-Napoleon, and their successors so tenderly nurtured and ruthlessly deployed that bore such bitter poisonous fruit.
"This said, the story of the Battle of Sedan has been told.

I should have wished to stop there. But I cannot. Whatever horror the
historian may feel, History is a duty, and this duty must be fulfilled.
There is no incline more inexorable than this: to tell the truth; he who
ventures on it rolls to the very bottom. It must be so. The guardian of
Justice is doomed to justice.

The Battle of Sedan is more than a battle which has been fought; it is a
syllogism which is completed; a formidable premeditation of destiny.
Destiny never hurries, but it always comes. At its hour, there it is. It
allows years to pass by, and at the moment when men are least thinking
of it, it appears. Of this character is the fatal, the unexpected
catastrophe named Sedan. From time to time in History, Divine logic
makes an onslaught. Sedan is one of those onslaughts.

Thus on the 1st of September, at five o'clock in the morning the world
awoke under the sun, and the French army under the thunderbolt."


~ Victor Hugo, L'Annee Terrible

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Decisive Battles: Ayacucho 1824

Ayacucho (or Battle of La Quinua) 9 DEC 1824Forces Engaged: South American rebel ("Patriot", "Independentist" or "Republican") forces - Eleven infantry battalions in three divisions;

Peruvian Division {Grand Marshal de la Mar} four single-battalion regiments: Peruvian Legion, 1o, 2o, 3o de Infanteria, 1,580 infantrymen;
1st Division (Colombian) {GEN Lara} three single-battalion regiments: Vargas, Vencedores, Rifle*, 1,700 infantrymen
2st Division (Colombian) {GEN Cordova} four single-battlion regiments: Bogota, Caracas, Voltigeroa (light infantry), Pichincha, 2,300 infantrymen;

for a total of 5,580 infantry.

(*Note: I believe that this may represent the Rifle Battalion of the British Legion, perhaps the only thing most Europeans know about the Wars of Independence. This unit has gained repute as much as anything from being the subject of numerous fictional and historical works in Great Britain - see "Sources" for the article by Ian Fletcher. By this time it is likely that many if not most of the soldiers in the unit were not English or Irish, but surely a handful at least must have remained. We'll talk more about these soldiers in a bit)

Cavalry Division {GEN Miller} Four very understrength "battalions" (seven squadrons) of cavalry: Junin Hussars (2 squadrons), Mounted Grenadiers (Columbia, 2 squadrons), Hussars (Columbia, 2 squadrons), Buenos Aires Mounted Grenadiers (Argentina, 1 squadron), for a total of about 200-300 troopers

Independentist artillery consisted of one cannon and its crew, probably less than fifteen gunners

A total of 5,780 all arms (although rather laughably in the case of the artillery) under GEN Antonio José de Sucre y Alcalá.

Spanish Royalist - Fourteen infantry battalions in three divisions:

Vanguard Division (GEN Valdes) four battalions: I/Imperial Alejandro*, I/Centro, I/Cantabria, I/Castro, about 1,500 infantrymen
First Division {GEN Monet} five battalions: II/Primero, II/Burgos, II/Guias (Legion Tacnena), II/Victoria, II/Infante, about 2,000 infantrymen
Second Division {GEN Villalobos} five battalions: I/Gerona, II/Gerona, I/Primero, II/Imperial Alejandro, Fernando VII, about 2,000 infantrymen

for a total of about 5,500 infantrymen

Cavalry Division {GEN Ferraz} twelve squadrons: Horse Grenadiers of the Guard (2 squadrons), Fernando VII Hussars (3 squadrons), La Union Dragoons (3 squadrons), Peruvian Dragoons (2 squadrons), San Carlos Horse (1 squadron), Halbardiers of the Viceroy (1 squadron), probably about 500-800 cavalry

Royalist artillery organization is unclear. The order of battle lists 14 cannon and their crews under a GEN Cacho but I cannot find any unit breakdown below this; it is possible that the Royalist cannon, being the most poorly supported arm in the Royal colonial army, were simply grouped in a single battalion. Assuming a crew of 10-15 per cannon the Royalists probably fielded roughly 300 artillerymen.

A total of between 6,300 and 7,000 all arms under the last Viceroy of Peru, José de la Serna e Hinojosa, primer conde de los Andes.

(*Note: Spanish infantry units appear to have been multiple-battalion regiments, and most of the units at Ayacucho included both of the battalions, although for some reason de Serna brigaded the battalions in separate divisions. The battalion number is indicated by the Roman numeral to the left of the diagonal, and the regiment by the name to the right. So "I/Imperial Alejandro" represents the First Battalion of the regiment named "Imperial Alejandro".

The Sources: When researching Ayacucho what struck me forcibly is how utterly impossible it is to access the simplest information in English about the South American "Wars of Liberation" period (roughly the first quarter of the 19th Century: more on which below). I tried online and found the Wiki entry (the usual first stop) to have been originally written in a language other than English (presumably Spanish) and then translated by someone with good but not fluent English skills. This has produced some extremely cryptic results. How does one interpret, say,
"The mechanism organized by Canterac foresaw that the vanguard division surrounded, alone, the enemy gathering, crossing Pampas river in order to secure the units to the left of Sucre."
Far from clear, both grammatically and militarily.

Obviously the original sources are in Spanish, and I suspect that given the precarious situation of the South American revolutionaries, like most revolutionaries, much official sources such as regimental returns, supply and quartering documents (if they were ever kept) were lost, or have been lost. In particular the Royalist forces, at the end of a very long supply line (and a Spanish one, at that) and poorly supplied to begin with, are likely to have gone without the usual forms and returns delightful of scriveners since Marius' day. What little that has been translated appears to be available only in hardcopy.

Most of the information on the Wars of Independence on-line is found on wargaming sites; although this site has a nice politico-military summary of the wars originally published in 1912. The website "Liberators!" has some details of the wars, while for those interested in the real-life Richard Sharpes there is this nice little summary of the British Legions by Ian Fletcher. During my research I noted that much of the on-line sources are inactive or incomplete, the most disappointing being perhaps the "Regimientos de America" website, most of which is "under construction" or just unavailable.

You will also have to look hard for a good general history of the period. The most approachable I have discovered is "The Buried Mirror", a rather novelized history by the Mexican writer (and, not surprisingly, novelist) Carlos Fuentes. Nicely illustrated, and easy to read, but very cavalier with detail and a trifle breezy for a useful military history. Still, well worth the time.

The armies of the period are similarly scanted, although as usual the people at Osprey have produced a volume on the Independentist forces, "The Armies of Bolivar and San Martin" containing a brief history of the wars, uniforms, orders of battle, and some references. Perhaps the most complete work is John Lynch's "The Spanish American Revolutions 1808-1826" (2nd Ed.) published by W.W.Norton back in 1986, It is out of print by available at Amazon, among others.The Campaign: You could probably trace the origin of the Battle of Ayacucho back into the 16th Century, but the revolts, rebellions, and revolutions that culminated on the plain of La Quinua had two main wellsprings; a related group of prefacatory causes and two immediate causes.

The prefacatory causes included the Bourbon Reforms, economic tensions, and the examples of the Atlantic Revolutions.

The Reformas Borbónicas were implemented after the Spanish Bourbons replaced the last of the Hapsburgs at the beginning of the 18th Century. Since the founding of the Spanish American colonies in the mid-16th Century the American-born aristocrats, the Criollos, creoles, had gained position, wealth, and power in the colonies. This privilege was threatened by the replacement of the colonial corregidores by a royal intendant directly responsible to the Escurial (the Spanish Crown), not to the viceroys and other local officials in the colonies. Almost all of the new intendants were Peninsulares, Spanish born. This extended to the colonial courts as well, where by 1807 twelve of ninety-nine judicial appointments were held by creoles.This guy, by the way, is Ferdinand VII, the Bourbon in particular who was hanging about the Escurial when all this fighting took place. Looks nasty, doesn't he, like the sort of person who probably picked his nose as a kid and gives women passersby the sort of looks that make them feel squicky? Well, he was a pretty rotten piece of work, as you'll see. But let's move on to talk about more prefacatory causes.

Like their cousins to the North, the South Americans were irate about taxes, especially when the new Bourbon intendants began to make collection more efficient. Several revolts, one in the Viceroyalty of New Granada (the present northwestern tier of South America which includes Columbia, Venezuela, Panama, and Ecuador) and another in the Viceroyalty of the Río de la Plata, shook the Spanish colonial administration in the 18th Century.The American Revolution started South Americans thinking...as it picked their pockets, the Spanish government jacking up taxes to pay for the help they provided the American rebels. Then the French Revolution added to the colonists' impatience with their royal master; the world seemed an increasingly large place to be constrained by old ties to the "mother country."

But the immediate causes of the Wars came less than a decade into the new century. First, the British attempted to seize several ports on the east coast of the southern cone. The British Army attacked and occupied Buenos Aires in the winter of 1806 (June, which is winter in Argentina, remember). The Spanish viceroy fled with the treasury, the local Spanish aristos welcomed the invaders, but after 46 days the local creoles counterattacked and overwhelmed the Brits, who retreated to the Royal Navy squadron offshore.The now cock-strong creoles tossed out the viceroy, put on of their own in his place, and raised local troops to protect themselves, since the Spanish Crown had protected them for squat. In the summer of 1807 (February), a now-reinforced British expedition attacked and occupied Montevideo, and the following July sent a detachment to take Buenos Aires. After six weeks of fighting in which half of the British forces were killed or wounded, Argentine and Paraguayan militias forced the British to capitulate and withdraw.

This taste of local war did several things. It impressed on the local notables in the Viceroyalties of Rio de la Plata and Peru that the "mother country" wasn't in the running for Mother of the Year. It caused them to organize the first domestic military forces on the continent. And it gave them a taste for self-government.

And then in 1808 Napoleon invaded Spain.The overthrow of the Bourbon Spanish crown didn't break the ties between Spain and its colonies. But they were weakened, and the "Junta of Seville" that claimed sovereignty over the overseas empire because of the place the city had as an origin for the colonial trade was not likely to inspire the same loyalty. Local "juntas", governing councils, began to arise in the colonial states. And when the provisional government of Spain - the "Supreme Junta" itself was dissolved in 1810, well, it was the devil to pay and no pitch hot.

1810-1814 - Debatable Land

For the first four years South America was a mess of little wars everywhere. Poor farmers in the countryside fought urban elites. In the Venezuela part of New Granada,a Spanish immigrant named José Tomás Boves took the "Llaneros", a bunch of mestizo cowboys over to the royalist side by promising to destroy the white creole landowners. But Boves typically ignored actual Spanish officials and really didn't give uno ano de rata about restoring the royal government, choosing instead to keep real power to himself and his buddies.

In the backcountry of Upper Peru, the republiquetas allied with hick gentry and the indios - the pure natives living in rural squalor - but couldn't muster the force to take the major cities.

The fighting in this period had as much to do with class and racial differences as either a love for king or independence. But atrocities mounted and the lines began to harden.

Simón Bolívar proclaimed "war to the death" for New Granada, but this meant that royalist creoles would be purposely spared but even neutral Peninsulares would be butchered. This was the sort of thing that produced the Boves and the llanero sorts on the other side.

So the early years were a typical civil war; political causes could be tossed aside just as easily as they were picked up - Boves' llaneros became independentists once the aristos and cities went royalist after 1815!

So things were fairly unsettled when the French were driven out of Spain in 1814 and the Bourbons returned.

1815-1820 - A Splash of Bourbon

By 1815 the general military picture looked like this:

- In northern South America, Francisco de Paula Santander, Simón Bolívar, Santiago Mariño, Manuel Piar and José Antonio Páez, fought conventional battles in the Orinoco River basin and along the Caribbean coast. They received aid from Dutch Curaçao and anti-royalist Haiti.

- In Upper Peru, guerrilla bands controlled the isolated, rural parts of the country but the cities were held by the Spanish

- The bulk of the former Viceroyalty of Rio de la Plata; present Argentina, Paraguay, Uruguay, and parts of Peru, were held by the patriots/Independentists.

When Ferdinand VII was restored he realized that he had the support of the nobility and the Church and dismissed the Cortes (the Spanish legislature), abrogated the Constitution, and ordered the arrest of liberal leaders on May 10, 1814. He restored the Old Bourbon Order: the former laws, institutions and promised to convene a Cortes in the old, conservative form with separate houses for the clergy and the nobility.

This was a clean break with both the autonomous South American governments like New Granada and Rio de la Plata (even though they had not declared formal independence), and with many in the areas not yet beginning to separate - Quito, Peru, Upper Peru and Chile. Many in these regions had held on to the hope that the "new", now-dissolved Cortes that would fully include the overseas possessions and provide an alternative to independence.

Ferdinand's moves didn't send waves of patriots into the tules; most of those already set on independence were fighting for Bolivar or the others already. What they did do was set areas that were outside of the control of the crown on the path to full independence.
"The governments of these regions, which had their origins in the juntas of 1810, and even moderates there, who had entertained a reconciliation with the crown, now saw the need to separate from Spain, if they were to protect the reforms they had enacted."
In 1815 the Escurial dispatched an expeditionary force to pacify the rebellious northwestern partion of South America; 10,500 troops under GEN Morillo. During this period royalist forces retook most of New Granada and Chile.One reason for the effectiveness of the Royalist forces was the narrow appeal of the patriot rebellion. The creoles were terrified more of an uprising from below - of the negro and indian peasants - then of vengeance from the king above. So many New Granadans of the poorer and duskier sort were happy to join the King's troops in robbing, raping, and murdering the creole betters.

But early 1816, Morillo changed his tactics from promises of liberty to slaves and land to the poor to terror. His forces began executing anyone suspected of thinking bad things about the King and he installed something with the delightfully Kafkaesque name of the "Tribunal of Purification" along with a Board of Confiscations.You get the idea.

This violent repression started pushing the poor and religious over towards the rebels. When Bolívar returned from Haiti at the end of 1816 he was ready to start dealing.

The other factor in the close of the Royalist feast days was the "southern cone". What is today's Argentina and the Guays (Para- and Uru-) were never reconquered. In Argentina one José de San Martín, a Spanish Peninsular War vet, became the governor of the Province of Cuyo. In the Royalist advance three armies from the Río de la Plata had gone to take Upper Peru.

Three armies had gotten their Argentinian asses whipped.

San Martín, a brilliant organizer as well as a competent commander, put together what would become the "Army of the Andes". In the high summer (January) of 1817 San Martín did a "Saint Bernard Pass", leading the Army over the Andes, well, over the Andes and into Chile. He descended on the unprepared royal garrisons of north and central Chile and controlled that littoral by February. He assembled a fleet (commanded by a British naval officer, Thomas Cochrane), and Chile was secured and declared independence by 1818.Meanwhile Simón Bolívar assembled a scrubby mix of Llanero guerrillas, New Granadan infantry and cavalry, and the British mercenary Legions. In midwinter (June to July) 1819, using the rainy season as cover, Bolívar led his army across the flooded plains and over the high passes of the Andes (almost a quarter of the Brits and his llanero cowboys died of exposure) and seized Bogotá in a coup de main. He also bagged the royal treasury, and gained the support of many in New Granada, still smarting from the harsh reconquest of Morillo.

By the end of 1819 had formed the beginnings of the new nation of "Gran Colombia". San Martín was consolidating his hold on Chile and eyeing Peru. But, though they did not know it, at that very moment Ferdinand VII was, like the evil Emperor in Star Wars, preparing...to Strike Back!

1820-1824 - The Spanish Are Revolting!

Ironically, what saved the new nations was neither Bolívar's boldness nor San Martín's thoroughness but Ferdinand's nasty authoritarian streak, which infuriated a young officer by the name of Rafael de Riego.

Colonel Riego was the commander of the Asturias Regiment of infantry, then in Cadiz as part of a 5,000-man expeditionary force preparing for embarkation for the Western hemisphere. Riego was something of a liberal, and he had likely been stewing over the abrogation of the 1812 Constitution.

Finding the officers of the Asturias of a like mind, the colonel led his troops into the streets, and found the other battalions disposed to riot. The disorder spread, and by March Ferdinand was forced to grant the restitution of the Constitution and promised to accept other liberal reforms. In fact, the episode was just the beginning of a nasty little civil war that culminated in a second - this time successful - French invasion of Spain, a viciously nasty Bourbon ratissage and mass murder of the constitutional faction, and a return to absolute monarchy that eventually led to the Carlist Wars and the destruction of what remained of Spanish imperial power and much of Spain itself.But that is, indeed, Another Story.

What the revolt and failure of the Cadiz Expedition did was end hopes of reinforcement from the Peninsula. Bolívar got news of the collapse of Cadiz expedition early in the year and spent the rest of 1820 preparing a campaign against Venezuela.

By the end of the year it was pretty obvious that the Royalist cause had been hammered by the lack of reinforcements and the mess erupting in Spain. Individual Royalist soldiers, and even entire units, began to rally to the Patriots in large numbers or just run off into the countryside.

Another, and perhaps a more severe, problem that stemmed from this was the cutoff of new Spanish troops. The graph below shows what happened fairly clearly; "peninsular" Spaniards make up between a fourth and a fifth of the Royalist forces in the early 1820s. These guys could be counted on, if they wanted to stick around at all, to fight for their King against the locals. But lose them and you have to recruit the locals, and their loyalities were, at best, more shakeable. By Ayacucho the number of home-bred Spaniards is down to 1 percent, not enough to make any real difference.On 28 JAN 1821, the ayuntamiento of Maracaibo chose to join the new nation state of Gran Colombia as an independent republic.

This kicked off a new round of open war, which culminated in the Battle of Carabobo on 24 JUN 1821. This, which we'll talk about in June of this year, was a decisive defeat for the royalists and effectively ended the reconquest in the north. With this victory the Gran Colombian forces took control of Venezuela.

In the south one José de la Serna had deposed the viceroy of Peru early in 1821.

This de la Serna sounds like he was a complete dick; he seemed to spend as much time fighting with other Royalists as with the Independentists, but that might also have been the effect of the civil unrest in Spain. San Martín negotiated with him for half a year, with the patriot position strengthening and the royalist weakening the entire time, until La Serna abandoned Lima to retreat to what he considered better positions in the mountains around Cusco.

Meanwhile, Bolívar sent an army under Antonio José de Sucre to take Quito and after the Battle of Pichincha 24 MAY 1822, Sucre's troops took Quito (now Ecuador).

However, for the next two years two Independentist armies were destroyed trying to breach the Royalist Final Redoubt in the high Andean parts of Peru and Upper Peru. The stalemate continued into early 1824, when La Serna had a falling out with GEN Pedro Antonio Olañeta

At this time the entire Royalist army of Upper Peru (today's Bolivia) rioted. This festival was led by Olañeta, who was a "conservative" (that is, a partisan of Ferdinand). But why would a royal officer rebel against La Serna, who was leading royal troops against the rebels?

You see, when the French invaded and Ferdinand VII declared himself Grand Imperial Pooh-bah of Spain again, he decreed that everything approved during the last three years of constitutional government was illegal - which annulled the designation of La Serna as viceroy of Peru.

La Serna, who seems to be some sort of "constitutional" or "liberal", sent 5,000 troops against Olañeta and his men and between 22 JAN and 17 AUG the two factions fought four engagements; Tarabuquillo, Sala, Cotagaita, and La Lava. Both factions were devastated.

Bolivar, no fool, proceed to maneuver against Cusco. He spanked a Royalist force under de Canterac on 6 AUG 1824. By October the patriots were knocking on the gates of Cusco, Bolívar turned things over to GEN Sucre and returned to Lima to reorganize the army and fund-raise.

La Serna. meanwhile, suddenly realized that the Patriot forces were going to take him like the wild beast took the farm wife; by surprise and from behind. He pulled his forces, what were left, together, recalling GEN Valdés from Potosí, and hastily impressed as many of the locals as he could.

This wasn't really all that effective. The chart shows the dramatic decline in the number of "peninsular" Spaniards in the Royalist forces - less the 1% by Ayacucho - and these men were the only ones truly reliable in battle. But needs must, and so La Serna marched out to maneuver against the Patriot forces while his sergeants labored to make soldiers of the indians they had been provided just weeks before.

And the amazing this is - they did. On 3 DEC 1823 La Serna fell on the Patriot army as a place called Corpahuaico (or Matará, which is which is unclear).

I can find no details of this engagement but the Royalists must have given the Patriots on hell of a beating, because Sucre's force is said to have lost more than 500 killed and wounded as well as most of their artillery for a cost of 50 royalist soldiers. Sucre managed to prevent a rout, apparently, mostly by choosing good ground that prevented the larger Royalist force from encircling or turning his little force. But he seems to have had to burn up one of his best units, the Rifle Battalion of the Colombian Army, whose British, Irish, and other war veterans fought their last time at Corpahuico.But the little engagement had cost the royalists, too. La Serna had had to use up a lot of powder, shot, and other supplies. Now he was losing his raw troops badly to desertion, altitude sickness and other diseases, and his food supply was running short. He found a strong defensive position on the heights of Condorcunca ("condor’s neck" in Quechua). But he had five days' rations and intel that Columbian reinforcement would mean slow starvation and disaster. For now he had the advantage in numbers, and nothing to gain by delay.

The Battle of Ayacucho was about to begin.

The Engagement: The Royalist army opened the ball by moving non-tactically down to the north towards the plateau before Quinua where the Patriot army waited some time between daylight and early forenoon; I have no time recorded for the opening maneuver.The Royalist plan was for GEN Valdes Vanguard Division to lead off, as the name implies, deploying to the Royalist right with the four battalions in line supported by two squadrons of cavalry and six cannon.

The next in line to debouch was supposed to be the center - five infantry battalions of the First Division of GEN Monet supported by most of the cavalry; the Dragoons of La Union and the San Carlos Horse, the Mounted Grenadiers of the Guard and five cannon.

The trail element was the Second Division (GEN Villalobos), supported by single squadron of the Halbardiers of the Viceroy, and, presumably, the remaining three cannon.

Presumably La Serna intended his force to remain within supporting distance until their deployment was completed and presumed that the outnumbered patriot force would stay on the defensive until the maneuver was performed, but in this he was either badly misinformed of the capabilities of his and the enemy troops or simply overoptimistic in his planning, because the participants all recount that Sucre quickly realized the opportunity afforded by the royalists' straggling march downhill and ordered his forces forward.The worst damage was done on the royalist left/patriot right, where the 2nd (Colombian) Division of Córdova, with the patriot cavalry in support, moved forward in attack column and simply overran the Royalist left.
"Colonel Joaquín Rubín de Celis, who commanded the first royalist regiment (tasked to) protect the artillery...which was still loaded in its mules, moved forward carelessly into the plain where his unit was smashed and he himself was killed during the attack of the Córdova’s division..."
The remaining units of the Second Division were apparently smashed in this assault, as it disappears from the further accounts of the day; no doubt the inexperience of the green troopers of the royalist infantry had something to do with this collapse.Seeing the left overrun, GEN Monet pushed his First Division across the ravine that spanned the royalist center and right and attempted to turn the attacking Columbians from their left. This forlorn hope - Monet managed to form only two of his five battalions - was predictably overwhelmed by the advancing Colombians; GEN Monet was wounded and three of his staff killed as the royalist center disintegrated in turn.

The large cavalry contingent supporting the First Division attempted to save the unit from rout but this attack was halted by a combination of disciplined fire from the patriot infantry and the charge of the Independentist cavalry. The main body of royalist cavalry was badly mishandled and began to come apart as well.

The left the Vanguard Division, which faced de la Mar's Peruvian Division and Lara's 1st. The royalists had been the first down the hill and had deployed without difficulty but had been forced to shake out into attack formation to storm an isolated house or estancia that was held by no more than several companies of patriot light infantry. This delayed the Vanguard advance until after the destruction of the royalist left and center; by the time Valdés’ troops were making headway against the fortified place Córdova’s Colombian division had joined the other two against the remaining formed troops on the royalist right.La Serna attempted to rally his troops while his deputy, GEN Canterac himself committed the three-battalion reserve. The Wiki diarist records that
"...however, (the )Gerona battalions were not the same that won in the battles of Torata and Moquegua, because during Olañeta’s rebellion they had lost almost all their veterans and even their former commander Cayetano Ameller; this troop, composed by recruits forced to fight, scattered before facing the enemy, and Ferdinand VII battalion followed, after a feeble resistance."
By 1300hrs Viceroy de la Serna had been wounded and captured, and although the Vanguard Division of Valdés continued to resist, making a fighting retreat to the high ground to his rear the Battle of Ayacucho was effectively over. When the Royalist force assembled on the heights it consisted of a rump division and about 200 cavalry. GEN Valdés and GEN de Canterac, the remaining Royalist commanders, realized that they were in an untenable position; vastly outnumbered, their remaining soldiers morally broken, and days from support with little or no provisions to supply a retreat.They capitulated. Patriot losses are said to have come to about 400 killed and 600 wounded. Royalist casualties are reported to have come to about 1800 dead and 700 wounded.The Outcome: Decisive Patriot/Independentist victory.

Ayacucho marks the end of organized Royalist resistance to the independence movement in Spanish South America. Our man Olañeta, pig-headed Royalist bastard to the end, held out until March in the mountainous region around Potosí. He started with four battalions of regular infantry; I/Union, I/Chichas, and I/ and II/Ferdinand VII, but by February, 1825 both the latter had mutinied. The royalist cause had one last hurrah; a cavalry engagement at Chuquisaca on 22 FEB 1825. But by this point the end was in sight.

But down to two battalions and a ragged tail of cavalry it was over when the I/Chichas mutinied and attacked Olañeta's remaining supporters of the Union Battalion at Tumusla on 2 APR 1825. Fortunately for the overwhelmed Royalist soldiers Olañeta was killed there, and the remaining Spanish troops surrendered five days later.

The Impact: The direct impact was the closure of the Independence Wars of South America. The Viceroyalty of Upper Peru became the nation of Bolivia in the winter of 1825. By the new year of 1826 not a Spanish intendant, garrison, or official remained on mainland South America; the Spanish colonies in the Americas were reduced to what they were on the day the Spanish-American War began, Cuba and Puerto Rico.

But for the new nations of South America in many ways the troubles were just beginning.For one thing, fifteen years of war had done a lot of wrecking in societies and economies that were fairly fragile to begin with. Without the Escurial to engineer a trade bloc the underpopulated new nations provided little incentive for trade within the continent. Spanish protectionism AND subsidies ended; many South American industries but particularly textile production were permanently damaged and foreign imports beat out local production. This hammered the Native communities which specialized in supplying finished products the South American urban markets using pre-industrial techniques. Without a European demand for minerals silver production in Bolivia after 1825 dropped to half its pre-war levels, and in Mexico it dropped to a quarter.

And the timing was as bad as it could be; the Napoleonic Wars had just ended and the global economy was recovering and aggressively seeking new markets. The new South American nations could only connect to the world markets as a Third World raw-material supplier, and finished goods from the northern hemisphere cost more than the raw materials payed.One great achievement was abolition. With the Spanish encomienda system destroyed the new countries moved relatively quickly and ended chattel slavery; the entire continent was free ten years before the United States tore itself apart to take the same step.

But other political moves were not as fortunate. The combination of Spanish absolutism, social stratification, the continued grip on power of large landowners and churchmen, and, especially, the authority seized by force during the wars, produced very volitile and unstable political systems.The resultant creature, the caudillo, would trouble South America from the day after the battle we've just discussed down to this very moment. Nowhere in South America is the tradition of civil government, of peaceful transition between parties, secure from the threat of caudilloism.

In that respect the dead hand of the Hapsburgs and the Bourbons remains clutched around the heart of South America today, 186 years after the last battalions to fight for the Royal cause were shattered on the plain before Ayacucho.

Touchline Tattles: Interestingly, the disaster at Ayacucho has produced its own "Dolchstoßlegende". Apparently one Juan Carlos Losada claimed that the entire battle was a put-up job, and a conspiracy between La Serna, filthy liberal that he was, and Sucre, to fake an engagement and give Bourbon Fred his conge'. Losada says: "los protagonistas guardaron siempre un escrupuloso pacto de silencio y, por tanto, sólo podemos especular, aunque con poco riesgo de equivocarnos” - "The protagonists forever after guarded their pact of silence and, therefore, we can only guess, but with small chance of error on our part."

The memoirs of Andrés García Camba recounts that the Spanish officers of Ayacucho were accused of treachery upon their repatriation to Spain. The liberal leanings and sinister Masonic connections of La Serna were evidence, claimed the accusers, that "The "little business" of Ayacucho was a "Masonic" defeat!".To which the battered "ayacuchos" could only reply wearily "The "little business" was lost, my general, in the same way all battles are lost."