12

The Fall of La Haye Sainte

One of the reasons for the failure of d’Erlon’s corps to break through the Anglo-Dutch line was the farmhouse of La Haye Sainte which stood at the foot of Mont St Jean. The massed columns had to divert around the farm complex, causing them to lose momentum. Every subsequent advance directly upon the centre of the Allied positions meant having to negotiate or deviate around this obstacle which was initially held by Major Baring, with between 380 and 400 men of the 2nd Light Battalion, King’s German Legion, though later reinforced with other units. It was clear that La Haye Sainte had to be taken at all costs.

Major Konrad Ludwig Georg Baring survived the battle to leave a detailed account of the stubborn defence of this key position:

The dwelling-house, barn, and stables were surrounded by a rectangular wall, forming a court in the interior. Towards the enemy’s side was an orchard, surrounded by a hedge, and in rear was a kitchen-garden, bounded by a small wall towards the road, but on the other sides by a hedge. Two doors and three large gates led from the court to the exterior; but of these, that of the bam had been unfortunately broken and burned by the troops.

The battalion consisted of six companies, which did not number four hundred men; I posted three companies in the orchard, two in the buildings, and one in the garden. Important as the possession of this farm apparently was, the means of defending it were very insufficient, and besides, I was ordered, immediately on arriving there, to send off the pioneers of the battalion to Hougoumont, so that I had not even a hatchet; for unfortunately the mule that carried the entrenching tools was lost the day before.¹

Lieutenant G.D. Graeme, who was serving in the 2nd Light Battalion of the King’s German Legion, explained the situation further:

We had no loopholes excepting three great apertures, which we made with difficulty when we were told in the morning that we were to defend the farm. We had no scaffolding, nor means of making any, having burnt the carts, etc. [for firewood]. Our loopholes, if they may be thus termed, were on a level with the road on the outside.²

An abatis³ was also placed across the road a little in the front of the farm’s main gate, behind which the defenders could stand and which would further hinder the French advance. Baring continued with his story:

Shortly after noon, some skirmishers commenced the attack. I made the men lie down and forbade all firing until the enemy were quite near. The first shot broke the bridle of my horse close to my hand, and the second killed major Bosewiel, who was standing near me. The enemy did not stop long skirmishing, but immediately advanced over the height, with two close columns, one of which attacked the buildings, and the other threw itself in mass into the orchard, shewing the greatest contempt for our fire. It was not possible for our small disjointed numbers fully to withstand this furious attack of such a superior force, and we retired upon the barn, in a more united position, in order to continue the defence: my horse’s leg was broken, and I was obliged to take that of the adjutant.

The farm complex was soon all but surrounded by the 2,000 men of the 1st Brigade of d’Erlon’s 1st Division. It seemed that at any minute the little garrison of the farm would be overcome. Seeing Baring’s predicament, Count Kielmansegge, in command of the 1st Hanoverian Brigade, sent the Light Battalion Lüneburg under Colonel von Klencke down to help. The Lüneburgers moved down to La Haye Sainte in line. Now reinforced, Baring tried to recover the orchard, and the Germans charged the French at bayonet point (more accurately at sword point as the Baker rifles with which they were armed carried short swords, or hangers, in place of bayonets).

At this juncture Dubois’ cuirassier brigade of the IV Cavalry Corps rode up in support of d’Erlon’s infantry. The Lüneburgers were taken by surprise by the sudden appearance of the cavalry and instead of forming square they ran back up the ridge from where they had come, taking with them some of the KGL including Baring himself. Three companies of the 95th, now completely isolated, and seeing the Germans running back to the main Allied position also abandoned the sandpit where they were posted and rushed up the ridge.

Fortunately, the charge of the Household and Union brigades drove the cuirassiers away from La Haye Sainte and, as he recalled, Baring and his men were able to recover the farm:

About half an hour’s respite was now given us by the enemy, and we employed the time in preparing ourselves against a new attack; this followed in the same force as before; namely, from two sides by two close columns, which, with the greatest rapidity, nearly surrounded us, and, despising danger, fought with a degree of courage which I had never before witnessed in Frenchmen.

Favoured by their advancing in masses, every bullet of ours hit, and seldom were the effects limited to one assailant; this did not, however, prevent them from throwing themselves against the walls, and endeavouring to wrest the arms from the hands of my men, through the loop-holes; many lives were sacrificed to the defence of the doors and gates; the most obstinate contest was carried on where the gate was wanting, and where the enemy seemed determined to enter. On this spot seventeen Frenchmen already lay dead, and their bodies served as a protection to those who pressed after them to the same spot.

Meantime four lines of French cavalry had formed on the right front of the farm: the first cuirassiers, second lancers, third dragoons, and fourth hussars, and it was clear to me that their intention was to attack the squares of our division in position, in order by destroying them to break the whole line. This was a critical moment, for what would be our fate if they succeeded! As they marched upon the position by the farm, I brought all the fire possible to bear upon them; many men and horses were overthrown, but they were not discouraged. Without in the least troubling themselves about our fire, they advanced with the greatest intrepidity, and attacked the infantry. All this I could see, and confess freely that now and then I felt some apprehension.

Napoleon, if we are to believe the claims in his memoirs, had ordered Ney to seize La Haye Sainte when d’Erlon had mounted his first great assault. Yet it was only after the repulse of the massed cavalry that Napoleon told Ney to concentrate again on capturing the farm. This was most likely because Ney was so heavily involved with the cavalry charges that La Haye Sainte was temporarily forgotten. Nevertheless, the day was slipping away with no sign that the Anglo-Netherlands army was going to break. Defeat stared Napoleon in the face, yet there was still time for one last big attack; but before that could be mounted, the farm had to be captured. Colonel Heymes, Ney’s senior aide-decamp recalled this incident:

It was six o’clock, the emperor gave the order to renew the attack in the centre that had drawn to a halt; but it needed fresh infantry to do this and the Marshal had none available. Half of the soldiers that had been committed to it were dead or wounded, the other half, exhausted, lacked ammunition. The Marshal sent his senior ADC to inform the emperor and to ask for new troops.

The emperor replied, ‘Where do you want me to get them from? Do you want me to make them? …’ this was reported verbatim to the Marshal who could then see that the battle was far from being won.⁴

So the task of taking the farm was handed to Colonel Charlet who commanded the 1st Brigade of the 1st Division of d‘Erlon’s Corps. It is believed that the attack was actually undertaken by the 13ème Légère supported by a detachment of the 1st Engineers. Baring recalled that,

Our small position was soon again attacked with the same fury, and defended with the same courage as before. Captain von Wurmb was sent to my assistance with the skirmishers of the fifth line battalion, and I placed them in the court; but welcome as this reinforcement was, it could not compensate for the want of ammunition, which every moment increased, so that after half an hour more of uninterrupted fighting, I sent off an officer with the same request. This was as fruitless as the other two applications; however, two hundred Nassau troops were sent me.

Baring refers to the 5th Line Battalion, King’s German Legion, but he does not tell the full story of what happened to this battalion. Lieutenant Colonel Wilhelm von Linsingen, who commanded the battalion did, however, provide some details:

In the afternoon I received the order to advance in line with the 5th Line Battalion and to push the enemy who had surrounded la Haie Sainte back with tthe bayonet. The 5th Battalion was fortunate to achieve this, and the enemy, consisting of around a single regiment, withdrew as we advanced. But before the battalion had the chance to pass on the right of la Haie Sainte, and before I was able to issue the order to form square, the enemy cavalry consisting of between five and six squadrons of cuirassiers, who were covered by the undulations in the hollow ground … launched an unexpected attack and the 5th Line Battalion was almost completely annihilated in this charge … I afterwards assembled the remnants of the battalion in the hollow, which consisted of only 19 serviceable men.⁵

Amongst those lost by the 5th Line Battalion was Ensign Wheatley who had been wounded and was taken prisoner:

Colonel Ompteda ordered us instantly into line to charge, with a strong injunction to ‘walk’ forward, until he gave the word. When within sixty yards he cried ‘Charge’, we ran forward huzzaring. The trumpet sounded and no-one but a soldier can describe the thrill one in stantly feels in such an awful moment. At the bug le sound the French stood until we just reached them. I ran by Colonel Ompteda who cried out, ‘That’s right, Wheatley!’

I found myself in contact with a French officer but ’ere we could decide, he fell by an unknown hand. I then ran at a drummer, but he leaped over a ditch through a hedge in which he stuck fast. I heard a cry of, ‘The Cavalry! The Cavalry!’ But so eager was I that I did not mind it at the moment, and when on the eve of dragging the Frenchman back (his iron-bound hat having saved him from a cut) I recollect no more. On recovering my senses, I look’d up and found myself, bare-headed, in a clay ditch, with a violent headache. Close by me lay Colonel Ompteda [who commanded the 2nd King’s German Legion Brigade] on his back, his head stretched back with his mouth open, and a hole in his throat.⁶

Ompteda’s death was recorded by Captain Charles Berger, another officer serving in the King’s German Legion:

I saw that the French had their muskets pointed at the Colonel, but they did not fire. The officers struck the men’s barrels up with their swords. They seemed astonished at the extraordinary calm approach of the solitary horseman whose white plume showed him to be an officer of high rank. He soon reached the enemy’s line of infantry before the garden hedge. He jumped in, and I clearly saw his sword strikes smite the shakos off. The nearest French officer looked on with admiration without attempting to check the attack.

When I looked round for my company I found I was alone. Turning my eyes again to the enemy, I saw Colonel Ompteda, in the midmost throng of the enemy’s infantry, sink from his horse and vanish.⁷

No more reinforcements were to reach the farm, surrounded as it was by French infantry and cavalry, and with ammunition running desperately low, it could only be a matter of time before the remarkable defence of La Haye Sainte came to an end. In his account Baring recalled the following:

The principal contest was now carried on at the open entrance to the barn. At length the enemy, not being able to succeed by open force, resorted to the expedient of setting the place on fire, and soon a thick smoke was seen rising from the barn! Our alarm was now extreme, for although there was water in the court, all means of drawing it, and carrying it were wanting, – every vessel having been broken up. Luckily the Nassau troops carried large field cooking kettles; I tore a kettle from the back of one of the men; several officers followed my example, and filling the kettles with water, they carried them, facing almost certain death, to the fire. The men did the same, and soon not one of the Nassauers was left with his kettle, and the fire was thus luckily extinguished; – but alas! with the blood of many a brave man! Many of the men, although covered with wounds, could not be brought to retire. ‘So long as our officers fight, and we can stand,’ was their constant reply, ‘we will not stir from the spot.’

It would be injustice to a skirmisher named Frederick Lindau, if I did not mention him: Bleeding from two wounds in the head and carrying in his pocket a considerable bag of gold which he had taken from an enemy’s officer, he stood at the small back barn door, and from thence defended the main entrance in his front. I told him to go back, as the cloth about his head was not sufficient to stop the strong flow of blood; he, however, as regardless of his wounds as of his gold, answered: ‘He would be a scoundrel that deserted you, so long as his head is on his shoulders’.

With every new attack Baring became more and more convinced of the importance of holding the post. ‘With every attack also, the weight of the responsibility that devolved upon me increased,’ he wrote, adding:

In battles, as is well known, trifles, apparently of little importance, have often incalculable influence. What must have been my feelings, therefore, when, on counting the cartridges, I found that, on an average, there was not more than from three to four each! The men made nothing of the diminished physical strength which their excessive exertions had caused, and immediately filled up the holes that had been made in the walls by the enemy’s guns, but they could not remain insensible to the position in which they were placed by the want of ammunition, and made the most reasonable remonstrances to me on the subject. These were not wanting to make me renew the most urgent representations, and finally to report specifically that I was not capable of sustaining another attack in the present condition. All was in vain! With what uneasiness did I now see two enemy’s columns again in march against us! At this moment I would have blessed the ball that came to deprive me of life. – But more than life was at stake, and the extraordinary danger required extraordinary exertion and firmness …

The enemy gave me no time for thought; they were already close by our weak walls, and now, irritated by the opposition which they had experienced, attacked with renewed fury. The contest commenced at the barn, which they again succeeded in setting on fire. It was extinguished, ammunition was sent me. This was also without effect.

Our fire gradually diminished, and in the same proportion did our perplexity increase; already I heard many voices calling out for ammunition … Even the officers, who, during the whole day, had shewn the greatest courage, represented to me the impossibility of retaining the post under such circumstances. The enemy, who too soon observed our wants, now boldly broke in one of the doors; however, as only a few could come in at a time, these were instantly bayonetted, and the rear hesitated to follow. They now mounted the roof and walls, from which my unfortunate men were certain marks; at the same time they pressed in through the open barn, which could no longer be defended. Inexpressibly painful as the decision was to me of giving up the place, my feeling of duty as a man overcame that of honour, and I gave the order to retire through the house into the garden. How much these words cost me, and by what feelings they wore accompanied, he only can judge who has been placed in a similar situation!

Baring refers to the heroics of Friedrich Lindau, who also wrote an account of the defence and fall of La Haye Sainte. Here he described its eventual capture by the French:

Soon after this the farm was stormed again and my captain ordered me to remain by the gateway. This time the battle lasted longer as ever more columns advanced. We soon ran short of cartridges, so that as soon as one of our men fell we immediately went through his pockets. At the same time Major Baring, who constantly rode round the farm, [was] reassuring us that fresh ammunition would soon arrive. Soon afterwards I got a bullet through the back of my head, which I informed my captain about as he stood above me on the platform. He ordered me to go back. ‘No,’ I answered, ‘So long as I can stand I stay at my post.’

Meanwhile I undid my scarf, wet it with rum and asked one of my comrades to pour rum into the wound and tie the scarf round my head. I attached my hat firmly to my pack and reloaded my rifle …

Soon after that I heard a cry at the door of the barn: ‘The enemy mean to get through here.’ I went there and had scarcely fired a few shots down into the barn when I noticed thick smoke under the beam. Major Baring and Sergeant Reese from Tündern and Poppe immediately hurried in with kettles that they had filled at a pond to empty in the barn. The loopholes behind us were now weakly manned and the French maintained heavy fire on us through them, but it became weaker and I and some of my comrades went back in front of the loopholes.

Then just as I had fired, a Frenchman, seized my rifle to snatch it away. I said to my neighbour, ‘Look, the dog has seized my rifle.’

‘Wait,’ he said, ‘I have a bullet,’ and at once the Frenchman fell. At the same moment another seized my rifle, but my next man on the right stabbed him in the face. I needed to draw my rifle back to load it, but a mass of bullets flew by me, rattling on the stone of the wall. One took the worsted tuft from my shoulder. Another shattered the cock on my rifle …

I looked for another – there were plenty around – and took my place again at my loophole. I had soon fired my shots, though, and before I could shoot again I had to search the pockets of my fallen comrades for ammunition, but they were mostly empty by now. Thus our fire became weaker and the pressure of the French grew.⁸

Baring concludes his narrative with a description of the events that led to the capture of the farmhouse of La Haye Sainte:

Fearing the bad impression which retiring from the house into the garden would make upon the men, and wishing to see whether it was possible still to hold any part of the place, I left to … three officers the honour of being the last. The passage through the house being very narrow, many of the men were overtaken by the enemy, who vented their fury upon them in the lowest abuse, and the most brutal treatment. Among the sufferers here was ensign Frank, who had already been wounded: the first man that attacked him, he ran through with his sabre, but at the same moment, his arm was broken by a ball from another; nevertheless he reached a bed room, and succeeded in concealing himself behind a bed. Two of the men also took refuge in the same place, but the French followed close at their heels, crying ‘Pas de pardon à ces B—verds’, and shot them before his face: Frank had himself the good luck to remain undiscovered until the place again fell into our hands. As I was now fully convinced, and the officers agreed with me, that the garden was not to be maintained when the enemy were in possession of the dwelling house, I made the men retire singly to the main position. The French, pleased, perhaps, with their success, did not molest us in retreat.

Not all the defenders got away so easily, including Lieutenant Graeme – as described in a letter he wrote in June 1815 shortly after the battle:

We had all to pass through a narrow passage. We wanted to halt the men and make one more charge, but it was impossible; the fellows were firing down the passage. An Officer of our Company called to me, ‘Take care,’ but I was too busy stopping the men, and answered, ‘Never mind, let the blackguard fire.’ He was about five yards off, and levelling his piece just at me, when this Officer stabbed him in the mouth and out through his neck; he fell immediately.

But now they flocked in; this Officer got two shots, and ran into a room, where he lay behind a bed all the time they had possession of the house; sometimes the room was full of them, and some wounded soldiers of ours who lay there and cried out ‘pardon’ were shot, the monsters saying, ‘Take that for the fine defence you have made.’

An Officer and four men came first in; the Officer got me by the collar, and said to his men, ‘C’est ce coquin.’ Immediately the fellows had their bayonets down, and made a dead stick at me, which I parried with my sword, the Officer always running about and then coming to me again and shaking me by the collar; but they all looked so frightened and pale as ashes, I thought, ‘You shan’t keep me,’ and I bolted off, through the lobby; they fired two shots after me, and cried out ‘Coquin, ’ but did not follow me. I rejoined the remnant of my Regiment.⁹

La Haye Sainte had been lost and the Anglo-Netherlands centre was finally exposed. Though the day was well advanced, there was still ample time for one final French attack – one last chance for Napoleon.