Nowadays, the name Mainwaring brings to mind a testy little bank manager, commanding a Home Guard platoon at fictional Warmington-on-Sea during the 2nd World War. The earlier personality is very different. Lt. Colonel Mainwaring, probably one of the most brilliant eccentrics the British Army has ever known is introduced to us by Private Wheeler whose anecdotes about him provided many a spicy addition to his letters home.

Cherry Trees

The first we hear of this legendary character is when his regiment (the 51st) was stationed at Chichester Barracks. Several boys, very partial to cherries, joined from the Duke of York's school, and they raided a local orchard. Colonel Mainwaring arranged an identity parade, to pinpoint the guilty parties but this was not easy as all fourteen boys were dressed in uniform and more or less the same height.

No-one owned up, so Colonel Mainwaring told the farmer - "They have learned something from the crows that rob you of your corn. … If I cannot find out the thieves, I will soon see who has eaten the fruit, I will make all the rascals disgorge the whole of the contents of their stomachs at our feet." He ordered the hospital sergeant to bring fourteen emetics. Excuses ranged from - "I was in the barrack room but Bob X gave me a handful," to Bob X who said that he did not go up the tree but held his cap out, and so on. To the farmer's astonishment, the threat of emetics soon sorted out the innocent from the guilty.

Colors

The regiment marched through Horsham in 1810 to the King's birthday parade outside town. To the delight of the locals they let off a feu de joie before marching back to barracks where they formed a square in the yard to listen to a lengthy but good-humoured lecture from the Colonel. To celebrate the royal birthday, he said, all the prisoners bar one, were to be pardoned and released. The unlucky one was Sergeant H--- who had failed to keep proper accounts and deserted rather than face the music. He had been recaptured and Colonel Mainwaring lectured him on the enormity of his misdeeds.

After a time the Colonel ran out of steam, shouting to those on parade - "Is there none that can advise me in this important affair?" As there was complete silence, he concluded, "What, will no-one put their shoulders to the wheel? Then I must lift the wagon myself. Spread the colours!" An arch was made of the two flags. "Now H---," said the Colonel, "Pass uncovered under those honourable colours." The wretched Sergeant did so. "He's half-clean," cried the Colonel.

"He must pass under them again. Let the colours touch him this time. Now his crime is blotted out for ever. He is regenerated. The new-born babe is not more innocent, and woe to the first man that mentions the affair to him." To the delight of his colleagues, Sergeant H---'s post had not been filled, and he was soon back in his old position with a clean slate, thanks to the Colonel's good humour.

Things did not always work so well. One field day everything went wrong. The band, accompanying the soldiers back to barracks, struck up a merry tune as they passed through the town but such jollity was more than the choleric Colonel could bear. He spurred his horse, dashing into the centre of the band which scattered in all directions, shouting, "They shall have no music the poltroons. Let them sneak through the town like a pack of thieves. I would not give a bunch of dogs meat for the whole corps. I will not disgrace myself with remaining with such a set of scoundrels. I will exchange or resign - etc etc"

The regiment arrived at the barracks in subdued silence where eventually the Colonel's choler (as usual) ran out of steam. He dismissed the parade saying "A bird that can sing and won't must be made to sing." This stricture was followed by an order condemning them to four hours extra daily drill for a month. The soldiers knew that that field day was no joking matter as far as their Colonel was concerned.

Medical Matters

Our choleric friend had unorthodox views on medical matters. Wheeler describes himself as 'not the principal performer, but at least second in the farce' that followed. In August 1810 there was an epidemic of ophthalmia which spread round the regiment like wildfire. Many were sent to a Brighton hospital for specialist treatment, but despite this, the epidemic appeared to be worsening.

Colonel Mainwaring, perhaps with justification, reckoned that some were faking the disease with a view to avoiding active service. So he said that as far as the next case was concerned, he would ensure that the alleged miscreant would be locked up in the dead house for 24 hours, his hands tied behind him, and kept on bread and water. If his eyes got better during this time he would be flogged because clearly he would have been swinging the lead!

Poor Private Wheeler was entering the danger zone, his eyes becoming weak but with no inflammation. So as he did not want to become involved in the Colonel's medical experiments, he sought the advice of the camp doctor. Wheeler had been on guard duty the night before when there had been heavy thunder and lightning which had affected his eyes. The diagnosis was weakness rather than opthalmia and a dose of salts was prescribed.

The next morning, on parade, "Old Spunk", one of the Colonel's many nicknames, came down the ranks, and, as luck would have it, halted in front of Private Wheeler, whose eyes were streaming in the strong sunlight. The Colonel seized him by his strap, saying, "I've got him! Set a rogue to catch a rogue - he's sure to find him. I saw this fellow winking and blinking! Away with him to the dead house! etc etc."

As Wheeler was led off he told the Colonel about Dr Johnstone 's diagnosis. This was confirmed by the medical staff and so the Colonel changed tack, shouting to the world in general - "I was mistaken in this lad - he is the best soldier in the corps. He has been to the Doctor. He has done as you all should do; he has put his shoulder to the wheel, etc etc" The best was yet to come! "I will be kind to him," he told the regiment. "No more parades or drills until his eyes are well, he shall take his walks in the cooling shade ………."

He vainly sought another victim, and returned to Private Wheeler, ordering him to drink 3½ oz of bitter gall Epsom salts, and to undergo two hours knapsack drill in 'double quick time' to 'open his back door'. When this took place, he said, we could not err.

The farce continued. A hospital Sergeant was ordered to bring a quart pot containing the lethal mixture. As wretched Wheeler started to drink the Colonel ordered him to 'stop and come out 6 paces in front to set an example.' So Wheeler stepped forward shouldering his rifle with one hand and holding the quart pot in the other, awaiting the command to drink. The Colonel stood in front of him, hand on his sword, shouting "Drink it up," every time the victim tried to swallow.

Each time he shouted, the sword came further out an inch or two. When the operation was complete, the sword was plunged back into the scabbard and the Colonel exclaimed, "You're a lucky fellow! If you had not finished it before I had drawn my sabre, I would have cut you down." Greatly relieved, Wheeler shakily gave the pot back to the medical orderly. But the matter was not yet ended.

There were some lumps in the bottom of the pot that rattled. (The salts used at this time were coarse and brownish in colour). The Colonel pursued the orderly, kicking his 'seat of honor,' seized the cup, shouting 'set a rogue etc' He rammed his hand into the cup, taking out the offending residue, brought it back to Wheeler and made him eat it, repeating imprecations about opening his back door. Wheeler tells us wryly that the story ended happily. He did not have two hours drill, his eyes got better, and Colonel Mainwaring took the credit for this success.

As Soldier

Colonel Mainwaring was no mean soldier in the heat of battle but always eccentric. "His superior skill baffled all the efforts of the enemy," we are told. "He took advantage of the ground and led us out of a scrape without loss." He dismounted from his horse and frequently faced his soldiers, calling "right," "left", as if they were still on the parade ground. Looking at the enemy, he told his troops, "That fellow is out of step, keep step and they cannot hurt us". On one occasion he had words with the Sergeant Major about one of his men, saying, "X cannot march, mark him for drill Sergeant Major."

And another of his theories was, "I tell you again they cannot hurt us if you are steady. If you are out of time, you will be knocked down. " At one stage a bullet passed under his horse's belly, and the poor animal was told "You are a coward, I will stop your corn three days".

The Colonel was wounded at the Battle of Badajoz and was invalided home. He had been greatly upset at the battle of Fuentes de Oñoro, reckoning that Wellington had made some faulty dispositions, and the Colonel burnt the regimental colours. Although the Duke never forgave him, he recognised a competent soldier when he saw one and did not sack him. But Colonel Mainwaring was not posted back to the Peninsula when his wound was healed. Burning the colours did our hero no harm as he went on the staff and later took command of Hillsea Barracks, eventually moving to the Isle of Wight. He finished his career as a Lieutenant-General.

He did not lose his touch when he left the Peninsula. The Riding School in Albany Barracks was used as a chapel. He was annoyed several wintry Sundays by persistent coughing during the service. So, starting with two or three coughs, he spoke to his men: "Many of us have very bad coughs and I understand that the Reverend gentleman is going to deliver a sermon on a particular subject. Such being the case (coughs again) I shall endeavour to suppress mine.

If I do not succeed, I shall go out and wait until the service is over. "Now," said he artfully, "Any-one who cannot stifle his cough should go outside and walk about till we come out." A large number of the congregation took his advice and the parson got through his sermon without difficulty. Those who walked out chuckled with delight thinking that the Colonel had fallen into his own trap.

But they misjudged him, as outside were several Sergeants ready to form them into drill squads. The Colonel, after the service, defied any-one to find a better cure for coughs. But he had not finished curing the sick. He turned to his adjutant saying, "Put these men to the iron roller and keep them at it until retreat-beating and every mother's son of them shall dine with Duke Humphrey," which meant going without their dinner. Coughing on church parade ceased to be a problem after this.

Although the troops laughed at him behind his back, they had a considerable respect for him as an eccentric but likeable first-class soldier whose unorthodox approach to regimental problems has since become a legend in the history of the British army.

Source: Letters of Private Wheeler, edited by Captain Liddell Hart