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Old Soldier's Story - Cavalry Skirmish at Hasparen
In December of 1813, Thomas Brotherton was a major in temporary command of the 14th Light Dragoons, serving in Baron Vivian's brigade of the Duke of Wellington's army, now fighting on the north slope of Pyrennes, in the south of France. On the 12th, French cavalry, drove some British patrols out of the village of Hasparren, which secured a crossing of the Nive River. Vivian promptly ordered Brotherton and the 14th Light Dragoons to charge across the narrow bridge spanning the river, against the French 13th Chasseurs and 2nd Hussars. It was a foolhardly move, for the bridge would permit only three men to charge abreast,. Brotherton took the lead, with his orderly at one hand and a Lieutenant Southwell at the other. What follows is from his own account, which appeared in History of the 14th Hussars, 1715-1900, by Col. H.B. Hamilton (London: 1901).
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The enemy received us with a volley from their pistols and carbines when we were close upon them. Southwell's horse fell dead, and he under him. However, myself and orderly closed with the enemy. The orderly had his bridle-hand nearly chopped off, and was run through the body, and I was left alone amidst the enemy. I was belaboured with cuts and thrusts from all sides, defending myself as long as I could against such odds. However, after receiving eleven thrusts, three of which only wounded me (as I wore a buffalo leather cuirass which I had made at Madrid, after having been run through the body at Salamanca), I was wounded through the neck, in the right hip, or to speak more plainly, in the bottom, on the right side, arid another stab in the thigh, which would have proved the worst of all, had it not been for a bunch of letters which I had put into one of the pockets which were then worn with pantaloons. The sword penetrated the letters, and went a quarter of an inch into the thigh, close to what is called, I believe, the femoral artery, which, had it touched, probably it would have proved fatal; but the blow which rendered it impossible to make further resistance was a sabre-cut, aimed at my head, which fell on the peak of my helmet with such force that it bent it on my nose, which flattened and nearly broke, and completely stunned me. As I said, this blow disabled me from further resistance, and, indeed, no signs of any assistance appearing, rendered it useless to resist any longer. Surrounded as I was by fellows cutting and thrusting at me in all directions, and so occupied was I in parrying, that I had not time for assaulting in my turn. It was my intention to surrender, but a little circumstance caused me to be much more roughly treated than I otherwise should probably have been. I had, previously to advancing to the 'charge', twisted my silk sword-knot round and round my wrist, by way of securing my sword the more effectually; and when stunned by the cut on my helmet, which one have just before mentioned, and summoned on all sides by the vociferations to surrender ("Rendez vous!"), my sword was seized, but as it was so tightly fastened to my wrist, this was taken for an intention not to surrender it; and a fellow cocked his pistol, and put it to my head to blow out my brains, when I had just sufficiently recovered to articulate "Le me rends!" I was then secured, and tied on my horse, being too faint to sit on otherwise, and galloped off to the rear.
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