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The Greys at Waterloo. Reminiscences of the Waterloo Campaign by
Sergeant Major, in 1815 Corporal, Dickson, Scots Greys [officially 2nd
or Royal North British Dragoons], as recounted to his family and
friends. From: "With Napoleon at Waterloo", edited McKenzie McBride,
1911. [Slightly edited by D.Morfitt 1997, especially the introductory
section; omissions marked with an ellipsis ...Numbers in square brackets
in the text (thus [1]) refer to explanatory notes by D.Morfitt which can
be found at the end of the memoir.]

...He was a native of Paisley, born in the Revolution year of 1789. He
enlisted at Glasgow in 1807 when barely eighteen, and remained in the
service till 1834. At Waterloo he was corporal in Captain Vernon's
troop, and his sabre and other regimentals bear evidence that his number
was 57 of F troop. He was promoted sergeant after Waterloo for his
services, and took the place of Sergeant Charles Ewart, who received a
commission in the Fifth Veteran Regiment for the brave deed narrated
here.

On retiring from the Greys Sergeant Dickson joined the Fife Light
Horse... He died at the age of ninety on 16th July 1880... His army
papers bear witness that during his service of twenty-seven years in the
Greys his character was 'excellent', and he was awarded a medal for long
service and good conduct in addition to his Waterloo medal [1]...

'Well, you all know that when I was a lad of eighteen, being a good
Scotsman, I joined the Greys, the oldest regiment of dragoons [2] in the
British army, and our only Scottish cavalry corps.

When news came that Napoleon Bonaparte had landed in France, we were
sent across to Belgium post-haste, and there had a long rest, waiting
for his next move. I remember how the trumpets roused us at four o'clock
on the morning of Friday 16th June 1815, and how quickly we assembled
and fell in!

Three days' biscuits were served out to us; and after long marches - for
we did fifty miles that one day before we reached Quatre Bras - we
joined the rest of our brigade under Sir William Ponsonby.

Besides our regiment there were the 1st Royals [1st Royal Dragoons] and
the Enniskillens [6th Dragoons], and we were known as the Union Brigade
because, you see, it was made up of one English, one Irish and one Scots
regiment.

On the day before the great fight - that was Saturday, for you know the
battle was fought on the Sunday morning, the 18th June - we were marched
from Quatre Bras along the road towards Brussels. We thought our Iron
Duke was taking us there; but no. In a drenching rain we were told to
halt and lie down in a hollow to the right of the main road, among some
green barley. Yes, how we trampled down the corn! The wet barley soon
soaked us, so we set about making fires beside a cross-road that rang
along the hollow in which we were posted. No rations were served that
night. As we sat round our fire we heard a loud rumbling noise about a
mile away, and this we knew must be the French artillery and wagons
coming up. It went rolling on incessantly all night, rising and falling
like that sound just now of the wind in the chimney.

One thing I must tell you: though there were more than seventy thousand
Frenchmen over there, we never once saw a camp-fire burning all the
night and until six o'clock the next morning. Why they weren't allowed
to warm themselves, poor fellows! I don't know. Well, about eleven
o'clock that night a fearful storm burst over us. The thunder was
terrible to hear. It was a battle-royal of the elements, as if the whole
clouds were going to fall on us. We said it was a warning to Bonaparte
that all nature was angry at him.

Around the fires we soon fell asleep, for we were all worn out with our
long march in the sultry heat of the day before.

I was wakened about five o'clock by my comrade MacGee, who sprang up and
cried, "D--- your eyes, boys, there's the bugle!" "Tuts, Jock!" I
replied, "it's the horses chains clanking." "Clankin'?" said he. "What's
that, then?" as a clear blast fell on our ears.

After I had eaten my ration of "stirabout" - oatmeal and water - I was
sent forward on picket [3] to the road two hundred yards in front, to
watch the enemy. It was daylight, and the sun was every now and again
sending bright flashes of light through the broken clouds. As I stood
behind the straggling hedge and low beech-trees that skirted the high
banks of the sunken road on both sides, I could see the French army
drawn up in heavy masses opposite me. They were only a mile from where I
stood; but the distance seemed greater, for between us the mist still
filled the hollows. There were great columns of infantry, and squadron
after squadron of Cuirassiers [4], red Dragoons, brown Hussars [5], and
green Lancers [6] with little swallow-tail flags at the end of their
lances. The grandest sight was a regiment of Cuirassiers, dashing at
full gallop over the brow of the hill opposite me, with the sun shining
on their steel breastplates. It was a splendid show. Every now and then
the sun lit up the whole country. No one who saw it could ever forget
it.

Between eight and nine there was a roll of drums along the whole of the
enemy's line, and a burst of music from the bands of a hundred
battalions came to me on the wind. I seemed to recognise the
"Marseillaise" [7], but the sounds got mixed and lost in a sudden uproar
that arose. Then every regiment began to move. They were taking up
position for the battle. On our side perfect silence reigned; but I saw
that with us too preparations were being made. Down below me a regiment
of Germans was marching through the growing corn to the support of
others who were in possession of a farmhouse that lay between the two
armies. This was the farm of La Haye Sainte, and it was near there that
the battle raged fiercest. These brave Germans! they died to a man
before the French stormed it, at the point of the bayonet, in the
afternoon [8]. A battery of artillery now came dashing along the road in
fine style and passed in front of me. I think they were Hanoverians;
they were not British troops, but I don't remember whether they were
Dutch or German. They drew up close by, about a hundred yards in front
of the road. There were four guns. Then a strong brigade of Dutch and
Belgians marched up with swinging, quick step, and turned off at a
cross-road between high banks on to the plateau on the most exposed
slope of the position. They numbered at least three thousand men, and
looked well in their blue coats with orange-and-red facings. After this
I rode up to a party of Highlanders under the command of Captain
Ferrier, from Belsyde, Linlithgow, whom I knew to belong to the
Ninety-second [9] or "Gay Gordons", as we called them. All were intently
watching the movements going on about them. They, with the Seventy-ninth
Cameron Highlanders, the Forty-second (Black Watch), and First Royal
Scots formed part of Picton's "Fighting Division". They began to tell me
about the battle at Quatre Bras two days before, when every regiment in
brave old Picton's division had lost more than one-third of its men. The
Gordons, they said, had lost half their number and twenty-five out of
thirty-six officers. Little did we think that before the sun set that
night not thirty men of our own regiment would answer the roll-call.

I seem to remember everything as if it happened yesterday. After the
village clocks had struck eleven the guns on the French centre thundered
out, and then musketry firing commenced away to the far right. The
French were seen to be attacking a farmhouse there in force. It was
called Hougoumont. I noticed, just in front of me, great columns of
infantry beginning to advance over the brow of the hill on their side of
the valley, marching straight for us. Then began a tremendous cannonade
from two hundred and fifty French guns all along the lines. The noise
was fearful; but just then a loud report rent the air, followed by a
rolling cheer on our side, and our artillery got into action. We had one
hundred and fifty guns in all; but half of these belonged to the Dutch,
Germans, or Belgians, who were hired to fight on our side. The French
had about ten thousand men more than we had all that day, till, late in
the afternoon, the Prussians arrived with forty thousand men to help us.
I was now drawn back and joined our regiment, which was being moved
forward to the left under better cover near a wood, as the shot and
shell were flying about us and ploughing up the earth around. 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. Then, suddenly, a great noise of firing and hisses and
shouting commenced, and the whole Belgian brigade, of those whom I had
seen in the morning, came rushing along and across the road in full
flight. Our men began to shout and groan at them too. They had bolted
almost without firing a shot, and left the brigade of Highlanders to
meet the whole French attack on the British left centre. It was thought
that the Belgians were inclined towards Napoleon's cause, and this must
account for their action, as they have shown high courage at other
times. [10]

Immediately after this, the General of the Union Brigade, Sir William
Ponsonby, came riding up to us on a small bay hack. I remember that his
groom with his chestnut charger could not be found. 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, and those on our side of the
Brussels road were divided into three solid columns. I have read since
that there were fifteen thousand of them under Count D'Erlon spread over
the clover, barley, and rye fields in front of our centre, and making
straight for us. Then I saw the Brigadier, Sir Dennis Pack, turn to the
Gordons and shout out with great energy, "Ninety-second, you must
advance! All in front of you have given way." The Highlanders, who had
begun the day by solemnly chanting "Scots whae 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 fierce 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,
and immediately our Colonel, Inglis Hamilton, [of Murdestone,
Lanarkshire] 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 spur into my brave old
Rattler, and we were off like the wind. Just then I saw Major Hankin
fall wounded. I felt a strange thrill run through me, and I am sure my
noble beast felt the same, for, after rearing for a moment, she sprang
forward, uttering loud neighings and snortings, and leapt over the holly
hedge at a terrific speed. It was a grand sight to see the long line of
giant grey horses dashing along with flowing manes and heads down,
tearing up the turf about them as they went. The men in their red coats
and tall bearskins were cheering loudly, and the trumpeters were
sounding the "Charge". Beyond the first hedge the road was sunk between
high, sloping banks, and it was a very difficult feat to descend without
falling; but there were very few accidents, to our surprise.

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.

Our colonel went on before us, past our guns and down the slope, and we
followed; we saw the Royals and Enniskillens clearing the road and
hedges at full gallop away to the right.

Before me rode young Armour, our rough-rider [11] from Mauchline (a near
relative of Jean Armour, Robbie Burn's wife), and Sergeant Ewart on the
right, at the end of the line beside our cornet[12], Kinchant. I rode in
the second rank. 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. A
moment more and we were among them. Poor fellows! some of them had not
time to get clear of us, and were knocked down. I remember one lad
crying out, "Eh! but I didna think ye wad ha'e hurt me sae."

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 [13] made a slash at me with his
sword, but I parried it off and broke his arm; the next second we were
in the thick of them. We could not see five yards ahead for the smoke. I
stuck close by Armour; Ewart was now in front.

The French were fighting like tigers. Some of the wounded were firing at
us as we passed; and poor Kinchant, who had spared one of these rascals,
was himself shot by the officer he had spared. As we were sweeping down
a steep slope on the top of them, they had to give way. 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. It was here that Lieutenant Trotter, from Morton Hall, was
killed by a French officer after the first rush on the French. We now
came to an open space covered with bushes, and then I saw Ewart, with
five or six infantry men about him, slashing right and left at them.
Armour and I dashed up to these half-dozen Frenchmen, who were trying to
escape with one of their standards. I cried to Armour to "Come on!" and
we rode at them. Ewart had finished two of them, and was in the act of
striking a third man who held the Eagle; next moment I saw Ewart cut him
down, and he fell dead. I was just in time to thwart a bayonet-thrust
that was aimed at the gallant sergeant's neck. Armour finished another
of them...

Almost single-handed, Ewart had captured the Eagle of the 45th
"Invincibles", which had led them to victory at Austerlitz and Jena.
Well did he merit the commission he received at the hands of the Prince
Regent shortly afterwards, and the regiment has worn a French Eagle ever
since. [14]

We cried out, "Well done, my boy!" and as others had come up, we spurred
on in search of a like success. Here it was that we came upon two
batteries of French guns which had been sent forward to support the
infantry. They were now deserted by the gunners and had sunk deep in the
mud.

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. Trumpeter Reeves of our troop, who rode by my
side, sounded a "Rally", and our men came swarming up from all sides,
some Enniskillens and Royals being amongst the number. 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! 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. I once heard Major Clarke
tell how he saw him wounded among the guns of the great battery, going
at full speed, with the bridle-reins between his teeth, after he had
lost his hands.

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. Armour 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.

Then we saw a party of horsemen in front of us on the rising ground near
a farmhouse. There was "the Little Corporal" himself, as his veterans
called Bonaparte. It was not till next night, when our men had captured
his guide, the Belgian La Coste, that we learned what the Emperor
thought of us. On seeing us clear the second column and commence to
attack his eighty guns in the centre, he cried out, "These terrible
Greys, how they fight!" [15] for you know that all our horses, dear old
Rattler among them, fought that day as angrily as we did. I never saw
horses become so ferocious, and woe betide the bluecoats that came in
their way! But the noble beasts were quite exhausted and quite blown, so
that I began to think it was time to get clear away to our own lines
again.

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 their 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 Enniskillens 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. I saw the lances
rise and fall for a moment, and Sam Tar, the leading man of ours, go
down amid the flash of steel. I felt a sudden rage at this, for I knew
the poor fellow well; he was a corporal in our troop. 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. Cornet Sturges of the
Royals - he joined our regiment as lieutenant a few weeks after the
battle - came up and was next me on the left, and Armour on the right.
"Stick together, lads!" we cried, and went at it with a will, slashing
about us right and left over our horses' necks. The ground around us was
very soft, and our horse could hardly drag their feet out of the clay.
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 coat 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. They had both been pierced by the
Lancers a few moments before we came up. [16] Near them was lying a
lieutenant of ours, Carruthers of Annandale. My heart was filled with
sorrow at this, but I dared not remain for a moment. It was just then I
caught sight of a squadron of British 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. They were the men of our 16th Light Dragoons [under Colonel
James Hay, afterwards Colonel-in-Chief of the 79th Cameron Highlanders],
of Vandeleur's Brigade, who not only saved us but threw back the Lancers
into the hollow.

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. You can imagine my joy at
seeing her as she nervously rubbed shoulders with her  neighbours. Major
Cheney (who had five horses killed under him) was mustering our men, and
with him were Lieutenant Wyndham (afterwards our Colonel) [and who was
the last survivor amongst the Grey's officers. Sergeant-Major Dickson
attended his funeral in 1872 in the Tower of London, where Wyndham had
been Keeper of the Crown Jewels for twenty years] and Lieutenant
Hamilton [son and heir of General John Hamilton of Dalzell, Lanarkshire,
and father of Lord Hamilton], but they were both wounded. There were
scarcely half a hundred of the Greys left out of the three hundred who
rode off half an hour before. [We lost sixteen officers out of
twenty-four on the field.] [17] How I escaped is a miracle, for I was
through the thick of it all, and received only two slight wounds, one
from a bayonet and the other from a lance, and the white plume of my
bearskin was shot away. I did not think much of the wounds at the time,
and did not report myself [as wounded]; but my poor Rattler had lost
much blood from a lance-wound received in her last encounter.

Every man felt that the honour of our land was at stake, and we
remembered that the good name of our great Duke [Wellington] was
entrusted to us, too; but our main thought was, "What will they say of
us at home?" 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. That, my friends, is why from the Prince
Regent to the poorest peasant, from the palace to the lowliest cottage,
the name of the Union Brigade was honoured throughout the land...' [18]

[1] The Waterloo medal was the first to be issued in identical pattern
to all ranks present at a battle fought by the British army.

[2] Dragoons had originally been mounted infantrymen; they rode to
battle but dismounted on the battlefield and fought on foot. By this
period they were cavalry like any other and fought on horseback. There
were both light and heavy dragoons; the Greys, like the other dragoon
regiments in the Union Brigade, were heavy cavalry. These were literally
big men on big horses and their job was to defeat the enemy's heavy
cavalry and infantry on the battlefield. The job of light cavalry was
theoretically to scout in front of the army on campaign, in order to
collect information about the enemy's dispositions and intentions, to
protect the army's flanks on the battlefield and to pursue a broken
enemy army after it was defeated on the battlefield. In practice the
role of the two cavalry types was becoming blurred by this period and
they were often used almost interchangeably.

[3] Pickets were outposts of men sent forward to observe the enemy, as
Dickson explains later.

[4] Cuirassiers wore a metal helmet and both breast and backplates,
which were supposed to be able to deflect musket balls and so were very
heavy, as well as a very stiff, very heavy straight sword (I know, as I
have handled one!). When they came off their horse at Waterloo they were
often seen by the British to roll about like stranded turtles; they
could often only get up and run away by unfastening and dropping the
breast and backplate.

[5] Hussars were light cavalry with very elaborate and decorative
uniforms, originally inspired by the native light cavalry of Hungary.

[6] The lancers carried a 2m spear with a small flag or pennon just
below the tip. Napoleon had many lancer regiments in his army but there
were none in the British army proper, although the Brunswick Black
Corps, an allied German mini-army which fought with the British at
Waterloo, had a lancer regiment. The lance could be very effective, in
the hands of properly trained troops, but it took a long time to learn
to use it properly. In close hand-to-hand combat it could be rather a
liability to the man using it! As was gruesomely demonstrated at
Waterloo, it gave the lancer a very long reach and could be used very
effectively from horseback to spear wounded men on the ground.

[7]  Now the French National Anthem, the Marseillaise started life as a
song composed by Rouget de Lisle in 1792 and sung by French
revolutionaries from Marseilles when they entered Paris in July of that
year.

[8] Dickson exaggerates; the Hanoverians of the King's German Legion
(plus other reinforcements) suffered very heavy casualties before the
French took the farm at about 6pm but they were not wiped out. King
George III was not only King of England but also Elector of Hanover,
hence the presence of Hanoverian troops in force with the Allied army.
When Queen Victoria came to the throne in 1837 she could not, as a
woman, also be Elector of Hanover so the title went to a relative
instead.

[9] At this period British regiments were largely known by their
numbers, though most also had other titles too.

[10] Wellington usually placed his men out of sight of the enemy and
also where the enemy's artillery could do them least harm, on the
so-called "reverse slope" of hills or ridges. By some mischance the
Dutch-Belgians were left on the forward slope of the ridge at Waterloo
and so suffered a terrible pounding from Napoleon's artillery, which may
well be the real reason they ran. The solid iron round shot and the
close range canister (a thin metal can full of musket balls - the
machine-gun of the age) could do terrible damage to flesh and bone.
Single cannon-balls could and did kill and wound twenty or more men at a
time, causing horrible wounds.

[11] Rough-riders helped the riding-master to break-in and train new
horses.

[12]  A cornet was responsible for carrying the colour or standard of
each squadron (which was a unit of about 100 men). No cavalry standards
were carried by British troops during the Waterloo campaign.

[13] Ordinary French infantry were divided into line and light infantry.
Line regiments were divided into 2 (or more) battalions, each of 6
companies i.e. 4 companies of Fusiliers, 1 company of Voltigeurs and 1
company of Grenadiers. In theory Fusiliers were ordinary line troops;
Voltigeurs were light infantry, trained to skirmish ahead of the main
Fusilier companies as a cloud of sharpshooters; and Grenadiers were
élite shock troops. Light infantry had the same organisation but the
companies were called chasseurs (the equivalent of fusiliers),
carabiniers (the equivalent of grenadiers) and voltigeurs. In practice
line and light infantry were really almost identical except for
differences of dress. French troops were very flexible; whole battalions
of either type could be and were used as skirmishers.

[14] See Ewart's own account of the capture of the Eagle in file
EwartEagle. The sword carried by Richard Sharpe in the television series
based on the books by Bernard Cornwell is a British heavy cavalry sword.
They were awkward, unwieldy weapons but in the hands of an expert
swordsman like Ewart could be very effective. The British light cavalry
carried a very light, curved sword (or sabre, as it was known) which was
perhaps one of the finest sabres ever designed; it was notorious for
producing nasty wounds which were often not fatal. The French complained
about its unpleasant effects (on them) during the Peninsular War!

[15] Napoleon is reported as saying of the Greys at Waterloo: "How
steadily those troops take the ground, how beautifully those cavalry
form." He later said (an opportunity for some French translation):
"Regardez ces chevaux gris. Qui sont ces beaux cavaliers. Ce sont des
braves troupes mais dans un demi-heure je les coupera en pieces. Quelles
braves troupes. Commes ils travaillent ils travaillent très bien, très
bien!"  When they were cutting down his artillerymen he said: "Qu'ils
sont terribles, ces chevaux gris. Il faut nous depêcher, nous depêcher!"

[16] Ponsonby is said to have been in the act of giving his watch and
the picture to his brigade-major to give to his wife when they were both
caught and speared by the French lancers (not Polish lancers, as some
accounts relate).

[17] Total casualties for the Greys were: 6 officers killed (7 according
to Dalton, Waterloo Roll Call), 8 wounded: 96 other ranks killed, 89
wounded: total casualties all ranks 199.

[18] The charge of the two British Heavy Cavalry Brigades, the Union
Brigade and the Household Brigade, was very successful but the Union
Brigade should not have been allowed to get out of control. Lord
Uxbridge, the British and Allied cavalry commander, regretted for the
rest of his life his failure to put himself with a second line of
supports to protect the withdrawal of the brigade. Such a move would
have saved perhaps the majority of those who were killed by the French
cavalry. It seems likely that the Greys were intended to be the reserve
to perform such a task for the Union Brigade but that in the stress and
hurry of the moment they charged on the left flank of the brigade
instead. British cavalry was fairly notorious for its failure to rally;
it had happened many times in the Peninsular War (1808-1814), leading
Wellington to compare British cavalry very unfavourably with the French
on a number of occasions.