The performance of the Royal Scots Greys at the Battle of Waterloo was crucial in clinching the British victory. As the entire French army gathered in sight of the Scots Greys, they marched to meet them. Napoleon was impressed by their courage, but believed that his army would destroy them in a mere half hour. As he retreated from the field some time later, he is said to have commented, ‘These terrible Greys how they fight!’ The following is an account of the action given by Sergeant-Major Dickson nearly forty years afterwards.
We had hardly reached our position when a great fusillade commenced just in front of us, and we saw the Highlanders moving up towards the road to the right.… Immediately after this, the General of the Union Brigade, Sir William Ponsonby, came riding up to us on a small bay hack.… Beside him was his aide-de-camp, De Lacy Evans. He ordered us forward to within fifty yards of the beech-hedge by the roadside. I can see him now in his long cloak and great cocked hat as he rode up to watch the fighting below. From our new position we could descry the three regiments of Highlanders, only a thousand in all, bravely firing down on the advancing masses of Frenchmen. These numbered thousands.… Then I saw the Brigadier, Sir Denis Pack, turn to the Gordons and shout out with great energy, ‘Ninety-second, you must charge! All in front of you have given way.’ The Highlanders, who had begun the day by solemnly chanting ‘Scots wha hae’ as they prepared their morning meal, instantly, with fixed bayonets, began to press forward through the beech and holly hedge to a line of bushes that grew along the face of the slope in front. They uttered loud shouts as they ran forward and fired a volley at twenty yards into the French.
At this moment our General and his aide-de-camp rode off to the right by the side of the hedge; then suddenly I saw De Lacy Evans wave his hat in the air, and immediately our colonel, Inglis Hamilton, shouted out, ‘Now then, Scots Greys, charge!’ and, waving his sword in the air, he rode straight at the hedges in front, which he took in grand style. At once a great cheer rose from our ranks, and we too waved our swords and followed him. I dug my spurs into my brave old Rattler and we were off like the wind …
All of us were greatly excited, and began crying, ‘Hurrah, Ninety-second! Scotland for ever!’ as we crossed the road. For we heard the Highland pipers playing among the smoke and firing below, and I plainly saw my old friend Pipe-Major Cameron standing apart on a hillock coolly playing ‘Johnny Cope, are ye waukin’ yet?’ in all the din …
As we tightened our grip to descend the hillside among the corn we could make out the feather bonnets of the Highlanders, and heard the officers crying out to them to wheel back by sections.
They were all Gordons, and as we passed through them they shouted, ‘Go at them, the Greys! Scotland for ever!’ My blood thrilled at this, and I clutched my sabre tighter. Many of the Highlanders grasped our stirrups, and in the fiercest excitement dashed with us into the fight. The French were uttering loud, discordant yells. Just then I saw the first Frenchman. A young officer of Fusiliers made a slash at me with his sword, but I parried it and broke his arm; the next second we were in the thick of them. We could not see five yards ahead for the smoke …
The French were fighting like tigers. Some of the wounded were firing at us as we passed. … Then those in front began to cry out for ‘quarter’, throwing down their muskets and taking off their belts. The Gordons at this rushed in and drove the French to the rear. I was now in the front rank, for many of ours had fallen …
We now came to an open space covered with bushes, and then I saw [Sergeant] Ewart, with five or six infantry men about him, slashing right and left at them. … I was just in time to thwart a bayonet thrust that was aimed at the gallant sergeant’s neck. … Almost single-handed, Ewart had captured the Imperial Eagle of the Forty-fifth ‘invincibles,’ which had led them to victory at Austerlitz and Jena. … We cried out, ‘Well done, my boy!’ and as others had come up, we spurred on in search of a like success …
We were saluted with a sharp fire of musketry, and again found ourselves beset by thousands of Frenchmen. We had fallen upon a second column; they were also Fusiliers. … We at once began a furious onslaught on this obstacle, and soon made an impression; the battalions seemed to open out for us to pass through, and so it happened that in five minutes we had cut our way through as many thousands of Frenchmen.
We had now reached the bottom of the slope. There the ground was slippery with deep mud. Urging each other on, we dashed towards the batteries on the ridge above, which had worked such havoc on our ranks. The ground was very difficult, and especially where we crossed the edge of a ploughed field, so that our horses sank to the knees as we struggled on. My brave Rattler was becoming quite exhausted, but we dashed ever onwards.
At this moment Colonel Hamilton rode up to us crying, ‘Charge the guns!’ and went off like the wind up the hill towards the terrible battery that had made such deadly work among the Highlanders. It was the last we saw of our colonel, poor fellow! His body was found with both arms cut off. His pockets had been rifled …
Then we got among the guns, and we had our revenge. Such slaughtering! We sabred the gunners, lamed the horses, and cut their traces and harness. I can hear the Frenchmen yet crying ‘Diable!’ when I struck at them, and the long-drawn hiss through their teeth as my sword went home. Fifteen of their guns could not be fired again that day. The artillery-drivers sat on their horses weeping aloud as we went among them; they were mere boys, we thought.
Rattler lost her temper and bit and tore at everything that came in her way. She seemed to have got new strength. I had lost the plume of my bearskin just as we went through the second infantry column; a shot had carried it away. The French infantry were rushing past us in disorder on their way to the rear. [Someone] shouted to me to dismount, for old Rattler was badly wounded. I did so just in time, for she fell heavily the next second. I caught hold of a French officer’s horse and sprang on her back and rode on …
But you can imagine my astonishment when down below, on the very ground we had crossed, appeared at full gallop a couple of regiments of Cuirassiers on the right, and away to the left a regiment of Lancers. I shall never forget the sight. The Cuirassiers, in their sparkling steel breastplates and helmets, mounted on strong black horses, with great blue rugs across the croups, were galloping towards me, tearing up the earth as they went, the trumpets blowing wild notes in the midst of the discharges of grape and canister shot from the heights.
Around me there was one continuous noise of clashing arms, shouting of men, neighing and moaning of horses. What were we to do? Behind us we saw masses of French infantry with tall fur hats coming up at the double, and between us and our lines these cavalry. There being no officers about, we saw nothing for it but to go straight at them and trust to Providence to get through. There were half-a-dozen of us Greys and about a dozen of the Royals and Enniskillings on the ridge. We all shouted, ‘Come on, lads; that’s the road home!’ and, dashing our spurs into our horses’ sides, set off straight for the Lancers.
But we had no chance. … The crash as we met was terrible; the horses began to rear and bite and neigh loudly, and then some of our men got down among their feet, and I saw them trying to ward off the lances with their hands …
Here again I came to the ground, for a Lancer finished my new mount, and I thought I was done for. We were returning past the edge of the ploughed field, and then I saw a spectacle I shall never forget. There lay brave old Ponsonby, the General of our Union Brigade, beside his little bay, both dead. His long, fur-lined cloak had blown aside, and at his hand I noticed a miniature of a lady and his watch; beyond him, our Brigade-Major, Reignolds of the Greys. … My heart filled with sorrow at this, but I dared not remain for a moment. It was just then I caught sight of a squadron of English Dragoons making straight for us. The Frenchmen at that instant seemed to give way, and in a minute more we were safe! The Dragoons gave us a cheer and rode on after the Lancers …
How I reached our lines I can hardly say, for the next thing I remember is that I was lying with the sole remnants of our brigade in a position far away to the right and rear of our first post. I was told that a third horse that I caught was so wounded that she fell dead as I was mounting her. Wonderful to relate, Rattler had joined the retreating Greys, and was standing in line riderless when I returned. … There were scarcely half a hundred of the Greys left out of the three hundred who rode off half-an-hour before …
It was not till afterwards that we soldiers learned what the Union Brigade had done that day, for a man in the fighting-ranks sees little beyond the sweep of his own sword. We had pierced three columns of fifteen thousand men, had captured two Imperial Eagles, and had stormed and rendered useless for a time more than forty of the enemy’s cannon. Besides, we had taken nearly three thousand prisoners, and, when utterly exhausted, had fought our way home through several regiments of fresh cavalry.