Some 55,000 soldiers were killed and wounded during the Battle of Waterloo, a carnage comparable to the first day of the Somme. A new book written by a surgeon ahead of this summer's 200th anniversary argues that that sacrifice must not be forgotten.
Why we must remember the bloody cost of Waterloo
Battle of Waterloo, 18th June 1815, 1898 (colour litho) by Sullivan, William Holmes Photo: Bridgeman Art Library
By Joe Shute
04 Mar 2015
The Telegraph
The legend of Lord Uxbridge’s leg is one told with relish by aficionados of Waterloo. At around 8pm on June 18, 1815, as the day was turning to blood red dusk, Wellington gave the signal for a general advance of the victorious Allied line. Lord Uxbridge, an outstanding cavalry commander, was riding forwards alongside the Duke just beyond La Haye Sainte farm, when he was struck on the right knee by a stray volley of grapeshot.
According to tradition, Uxbridge turned and exclaimed to the Duke, “By God, Sir! I’ve lost my leg” to which he supposedly replied, “By God Sir! So you have.”
Lord Uxbridge's right leg, shown here still attached to Lord Uxbridge, became a tourist attraction in the village of Waterloo after the battle. According to anecdote, he was close to the Duke of Wellington when his leg was hit, and exclaimed, "By God, sir, I've lost my leg!", to which Wellington replied "By God, sir, so you have!"
Apocryphal or not, the exchange has become immortalised in British Army legend. But it is part of a story which, in the run-up to the 200th anniversary commemorations of the Battle of Waterloo, has become largely ignored. The defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo came at a bloody cost which, in the pomp and celebration of victory, was swept to one side. It has remained so ever since.
In the one day of fighting there were around 55,000 either killed, wounded, or missing in action from both sides. The sheer density of the injured - around 2,291 people per mile of front compared with 234 over the same area on the first day of the Battle of the Somme in 1916 – meant many of the casualties were left simply to bleed to death on the battlefield.
Ahead of the anniversary, a medic and historian has witten a compelling account detailing the true scale of the bloodshed. Michael Crumplin, 72, a retired consultant surgeon from Wrexham for 25 years and now curator and archivist at the Royal College of Surgeons of England, says he felt he must redress history.
Mick Crumplin with a Waterloo surgeon's saw Photo: Paul Cooper
“Be under no misunderstanding,” he says. “This was, relatively speaking, a ghastly episode in British history. But because it was two centuries ago, and most military historians will not address the terribleness of the war, a lot of people have forgotten. I find it offensive and that is something I wish to change. I don’t want to horrify people, just bring things into perspective. It was a very tricky time for us. The loss of life was dreadful.”
Crumplin, who is also trustee and treasurer of the Waterloo Association, says his book, “The Bloody Fields of Waterloo”, began life as a list of the doctors present at the battle. There were about 180 on the day and another 60 drafted in to treat the injured in the aftermath of the battle. But after researching the scale and nature of the injuries sustained he realised that the experience of Waterloo had a profound effect on the British Army and the way in which it manages war zone casualties which continues to this day.
Indeed, it was the lessons learnt by the Army Medical Department during the battle – and throughout the Peninsular War - that paved the way for the birth of the Royal Army Medical Corps in 1898 and its transformation from a primitive butchering operation into the state-of-the art service which, in recent years, has been put to the ultimate test in Afghanistan. Not least, it was the number of amputations that surgeons had to perform on or near the battlefield that provided a fledgling database of experience on which to draw in future conflicts .
Crumplin discovered that there were 2,000 amputations performed at Waterloo as a result of the battle. And it is for good reason that an ebony-handled surgical saw and blood-stained white leather glove were last month chosen as part of the Waterloo 200 collection of 200 objects that came to define the battle.
A blood stained saw and glove – used by a field surgeon to amputate the Earl of Uxbridge’s leg mid-battle. Uxbridge was one of the very last men to be injured as the battle neared its end and his amputated leg was preserved and became an attraction in the village of Waterloo afterwards
“Surgery was performed usually in the upright position because you had to move fast,” Crumplin says. “They would cut the flesh with large capital amputation knives and then divide the bone with a saw. That would only take a few minutes but then you had to make sure you had control of all the arteries which were to be tied off individually. Then you would dress the wound. In all it would take about 15 minutes.”
There was, of course, no anaesthesia available, only a small dose of cordial of spirits and water afterwards and, if one was lucky, some opium or laudanum. “Often the patient fainted from the foul sights he was witness to,” Crumplin says.
Most though, such as Lord Uxbridge, displayed remarkable forbearance. As the peer underwent his amputation by Wellington’s personal physician and surgeon, Dr John Hume, he uttered not a word, nor did his pulse rate increase. The only time he flinched was when the saw blade jammed. Lord Uxbridge survived and the Prince Regent created him the 1st Marquess of Anglesey. He went on to lead a distinguished public life, twice becoming Lord Lieutenant of Ireland and, in 1827, Master General of the Ordnance. He finally retired as a field marshal in March 1852.
The reason why so many willingly underwent the surgeon’s blade was simple. By the end of two decades of the bloody Peninsular War, the soldiers of the British Army were all too well-schooled in the devastating impact of gangrene on their wounds. “They would literally queue up to be operated upon quickly despite the pain,” Crumplin says.
The most common cause of wounds, about 62 per cent, was small arms fire while 18 per cent were the result of slashes from sabre swords. The remainder were caused by cannon fire. Around three-quarters of injuries affected the limbs.
History enthusiasts re-enacting Wellington's defeat of Napoleon at the battle of Waterloo Photo: REUTERS
Crumplin, who has examined 20 or so skeletons dug up on the battlefield, says most injuries were caused by spent balls – fired over 150 yards. “Being round, although they didn’t have the destructive power of modern bullets, they did carry items of clothing into the wound – cloth infested with bacteria – which was a huge problem.”
Following the battle, the wounded were taken to interim hospitals established in Brussels where the surgeons were working day and night. The gruesome scenes were captured by the watercolourist Sir Charles Bell, who visited Belgium two weeks after the battle, and produced 17 paintings of wounded men.
The dead, meanwhile, were hastily stripped and buried. Another series of paintings of the bloody scenes are currently on display at the British Museum as part of an exhibition entitled Bonaparte and the British: Prints and Propaganda in the Age of Napoleon.
The studies, painted on June 20 or 21, 1815, depict the bodies of naked soldiers still lying on the ground and are believed to be the work of Thomas Stoney, an Irish civilian travelling in Belgium at the time. A few notable victims were buried in Brussels or brought back for interment in Britain.
The Battle of Waterloo, 1815 Photo: Royal Collection Trust/Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II
As for Lord Uxbridge’s severed leg, the limb was buried in the garden of the house where he underwent his operation. For years, a plaque marking the spot remained a grisly tourist attraction before the leg was eventually exhumed and burned.
Remarkably, according to Crumplin, a study of 6,800 of the men wounded at Waterloo found that by 1816, 75 per cent had re-joined their regiments. A sign, perhaps, of immense courage when faced by the sheer brutality of war, or that even such carnage was preferable to a lifetime spent picking turnips in a field – the other option available at the time for the common man.
Crumplin suggests it may well have been the latter. For all the glory associated with the Napoleonic Wars, it was a time when life was hard, cheap and often cut short. Some 200 years on, the bodies still lying beneath the fields of Waterloo deserve remembrance.
Waterloo200.org
The Bloody Fields Of Waterloo by Michael Crumplin (Ken Trotman Publishing £45) is available to order from Telegraph Books at £42.50 + £1.95 p&p. Call 0844 871 1515 or visit books.telegraph.co.uk
Reader Offer: Enjoy a spectacular commemoration of the 200th anniversary of the battle of Waterloo on a four night escorted tour. Costs from £799 per person, including return train travel, transfers and accommodation. Valid for departure on June 17, 2015. (Call 0333 005 9033)
Why we must remember the bloody cost of Waterloo - Telegraph
Why we must remember the bloody cost of Waterloo
Battle of Waterloo, 18th June 1815, 1898 (colour litho) by Sullivan, William Holmes Photo: Bridgeman Art Library
By Joe Shute
04 Mar 2015
The Telegraph
The legend of Lord Uxbridge’s leg is one told with relish by aficionados of Waterloo. At around 8pm on June 18, 1815, as the day was turning to blood red dusk, Wellington gave the signal for a general advance of the victorious Allied line. Lord Uxbridge, an outstanding cavalry commander, was riding forwards alongside the Duke just beyond La Haye Sainte farm, when he was struck on the right knee by a stray volley of grapeshot.
According to tradition, Uxbridge turned and exclaimed to the Duke, “By God, Sir! I’ve lost my leg” to which he supposedly replied, “By God Sir! So you have.”
Lord Uxbridge's right leg, shown here still attached to Lord Uxbridge, became a tourist attraction in the village of Waterloo after the battle. According to anecdote, he was close to the Duke of Wellington when his leg was hit, and exclaimed, "By God, sir, I've lost my leg!", to which Wellington replied "By God, sir, so you have!"
Apocryphal or not, the exchange has become immortalised in British Army legend. But it is part of a story which, in the run-up to the 200th anniversary commemorations of the Battle of Waterloo, has become largely ignored. The defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo came at a bloody cost which, in the pomp and celebration of victory, was swept to one side. It has remained so ever since.
In the one day of fighting there were around 55,000 either killed, wounded, or missing in action from both sides. The sheer density of the injured - around 2,291 people per mile of front compared with 234 over the same area on the first day of the Battle of the Somme in 1916 – meant many of the casualties were left simply to bleed to death on the battlefield.
Ahead of the anniversary, a medic and historian has witten a compelling account detailing the true scale of the bloodshed. Michael Crumplin, 72, a retired consultant surgeon from Wrexham for 25 years and now curator and archivist at the Royal College of Surgeons of England, says he felt he must redress history.
Mick Crumplin with a Waterloo surgeon's saw Photo: Paul Cooper
“Be under no misunderstanding,” he says. “This was, relatively speaking, a ghastly episode in British history. But because it was two centuries ago, and most military historians will not address the terribleness of the war, a lot of people have forgotten. I find it offensive and that is something I wish to change. I don’t want to horrify people, just bring things into perspective. It was a very tricky time for us. The loss of life was dreadful.”
Crumplin, who is also trustee and treasurer of the Waterloo Association, says his book, “The Bloody Fields of Waterloo”, began life as a list of the doctors present at the battle. There were about 180 on the day and another 60 drafted in to treat the injured in the aftermath of the battle. But after researching the scale and nature of the injuries sustained he realised that the experience of Waterloo had a profound effect on the British Army and the way in which it manages war zone casualties which continues to this day.
Indeed, it was the lessons learnt by the Army Medical Department during the battle – and throughout the Peninsular War - that paved the way for the birth of the Royal Army Medical Corps in 1898 and its transformation from a primitive butchering operation into the state-of-the art service which, in recent years, has been put to the ultimate test in Afghanistan. Not least, it was the number of amputations that surgeons had to perform on or near the battlefield that provided a fledgling database of experience on which to draw in future conflicts .
Crumplin discovered that there were 2,000 amputations performed at Waterloo as a result of the battle. And it is for good reason that an ebony-handled surgical saw and blood-stained white leather glove were last month chosen as part of the Waterloo 200 collection of 200 objects that came to define the battle.
A blood stained saw and glove – used by a field surgeon to amputate the Earl of Uxbridge’s leg mid-battle. Uxbridge was one of the very last men to be injured as the battle neared its end and his amputated leg was preserved and became an attraction in the village of Waterloo afterwards
“Surgery was performed usually in the upright position because you had to move fast,” Crumplin says. “They would cut the flesh with large capital amputation knives and then divide the bone with a saw. That would only take a few minutes but then you had to make sure you had control of all the arteries which were to be tied off individually. Then you would dress the wound. In all it would take about 15 minutes.”
There was, of course, no anaesthesia available, only a small dose of cordial of spirits and water afterwards and, if one was lucky, some opium or laudanum. “Often the patient fainted from the foul sights he was witness to,” Crumplin says.
Most though, such as Lord Uxbridge, displayed remarkable forbearance. As the peer underwent his amputation by Wellington’s personal physician and surgeon, Dr John Hume, he uttered not a word, nor did his pulse rate increase. The only time he flinched was when the saw blade jammed. Lord Uxbridge survived and the Prince Regent created him the 1st Marquess of Anglesey. He went on to lead a distinguished public life, twice becoming Lord Lieutenant of Ireland and, in 1827, Master General of the Ordnance. He finally retired as a field marshal in March 1852.
The reason why so many willingly underwent the surgeon’s blade was simple. By the end of two decades of the bloody Peninsular War, the soldiers of the British Army were all too well-schooled in the devastating impact of gangrene on their wounds. “They would literally queue up to be operated upon quickly despite the pain,” Crumplin says.
The most common cause of wounds, about 62 per cent, was small arms fire while 18 per cent were the result of slashes from sabre swords. The remainder were caused by cannon fire. Around three-quarters of injuries affected the limbs.
History enthusiasts re-enacting Wellington's defeat of Napoleon at the battle of Waterloo Photo: REUTERS
Crumplin, who has examined 20 or so skeletons dug up on the battlefield, says most injuries were caused by spent balls – fired over 150 yards. “Being round, although they didn’t have the destructive power of modern bullets, they did carry items of clothing into the wound – cloth infested with bacteria – which was a huge problem.”
Following the battle, the wounded were taken to interim hospitals established in Brussels where the surgeons were working day and night. The gruesome scenes were captured by the watercolourist Sir Charles Bell, who visited Belgium two weeks after the battle, and produced 17 paintings of wounded men.
The dead, meanwhile, were hastily stripped and buried. Another series of paintings of the bloody scenes are currently on display at the British Museum as part of an exhibition entitled Bonaparte and the British: Prints and Propaganda in the Age of Napoleon.
The studies, painted on June 20 or 21, 1815, depict the bodies of naked soldiers still lying on the ground and are believed to be the work of Thomas Stoney, an Irish civilian travelling in Belgium at the time. A few notable victims were buried in Brussels or brought back for interment in Britain.
The Battle of Waterloo, 1815 Photo: Royal Collection Trust/Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II
As for Lord Uxbridge’s severed leg, the limb was buried in the garden of the house where he underwent his operation. For years, a plaque marking the spot remained a grisly tourist attraction before the leg was eventually exhumed and burned.
Remarkably, according to Crumplin, a study of 6,800 of the men wounded at Waterloo found that by 1816, 75 per cent had re-joined their regiments. A sign, perhaps, of immense courage when faced by the sheer brutality of war, or that even such carnage was preferable to a lifetime spent picking turnips in a field – the other option available at the time for the common man.
Crumplin suggests it may well have been the latter. For all the glory associated with the Napoleonic Wars, it was a time when life was hard, cheap and often cut short. Some 200 years on, the bodies still lying beneath the fields of Waterloo deserve remembrance.
Waterloo200.org
The Bloody Fields Of Waterloo by Michael Crumplin (Ken Trotman Publishing £45) is available to order from Telegraph Books at £42.50 + £1.95 p&p. Call 0844 871 1515 or visit books.telegraph.co.uk
Reader Offer: Enjoy a spectacular commemoration of the 200th anniversary of the battle of Waterloo on a four night escorted tour. Costs from £799 per person, including return train travel, transfers and accommodation. Valid for departure on June 17, 2015. (Call 0333 005 9033)
Why we must remember the bloody cost of Waterloo - Telegraph
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