Reading British accounts of the Peninsular War, one sometimes gains the impression that Wellington's army was the ultimate paragon of military virtue, a smoothly-oiled machine that never failed to function perfectly under the most trying conditions. It is therefore both amusing and refreshing to come across an event which suggests that occasionally things did not work out entirely as planned.

A good example of such a 'glitch' is afforded by the expedition that was launched by Sir Thomas Graham against Llerena on the night of 25-26 March 1812. At this time Graham had been ordered to cover the siege of Badajoz against any advance from the direction of Seville with the First, Sixth and Seventh Divisions of the Anglo-Portuguese army, together with two brigades of cavalry.

Advancing south-eastwards as far as Llerena, Graham discovered from an intercepted letter that four battalions had been cut off from the main body of French troops in the area, which had escaped to the east. Realising that to get back to their fellows, they would have to pass through Llerena, Graham decided to set a trap for them. Falling back a little way, the British commander allowed them to enter the village, and then led his forces against them in a sudden night attack on the evening of 25 March, for the purpose of which the troops were spread out in four different columns in the hope that the French would thus be enveloped.

This plan was soon frustrated. Though D'Urban says that the march was made 'in the best possible order', other eye witnesses disagree, claiming that, being 'sanguine and certain of success', the army advanced 'without any advance guard except Sir Thomas Graham, Sir Stapleton Cotton and numerous staff' (one account claims that this advance party consisted of a number of officers who had unwittingly become separated from their regiments, but no corroboration has been found for this claim; the same source says that there was a proper advance guard, but that it was called in too soon).

This proved disastrous, for the French had been forewarned of Graham's moves, apparently by a Spanish sympathiser, and were standing to arms, the mounted officers riding straight into a picket, which immediately opened fire. In the words of William Bragge, 'This circumstance alarmed our noble leaders who faced about and at speed dashed in amongst the infantry' (the picket, meanwhile, was running as fast as it could in the opposite direction). The result was complete chaos.

Thinking that they were under attack by French cavalry, the Brunswick Oels jaegers and Fifty First Foot wheeled into line and opened fire either on one another or on another column of troops on their flank (accounts differ). Somehow the Third Dragoons got caught in the cross-fire and retired in some disorder. All of this, of course, took place in complete darkness - it was three o'clock in the morning - and the confusion was worsened by the fact that a large pack of stray dogs had attached itself to the army and now began to bark loudly, presumably getting under everybody's feet in the process. Order was at length restored, but not before several officers and men had been killed or wounded.

Unbeknown to the Allies, the French had long since decamped, but the advance was eventually resumed, only to fall into fresh confusion. Spying what he judged to be a line of French troops drawn up across his path, Graham brought up some horse artillery and ordered it to open fire. Some surprise was occasioned by the fact that none was returned, but the fire continued until dawn broke - when it was discovered that 'we had been pounding away at a brick wall'. An attempt was then made to send the cavalry after the retreating French, but the ground was too rough for pursuit to be practicable, ant chase soon had to be broken off.

Thus ended the unfortunate expedition to Llerena. What Wellington made of the affair history does not relate, which is probably just as well in view of his notoriously acid tongue. However, since he shortly afterwards ordered Graham to retire some twenty miles to Zafra, it may be assumed that he was not amused. For a suitable conclusion, we must therefore turn to D'Urban, who concluded his account with a curt 'Memorandum: even British troops must never be permitted to load for a night attack.' It had not been Sir Thomas Graham's finest hour.

Sources

1. Rousseau (ed.), Major General Sir Benjamin D'Urban - The Peninsular journal, 1808-1817 (London, 1930)
B. Liddell Hart (ed.), The Letters of Private Wheeler, 1809-1828 (London, 1951)
S. Cassels (ed.), Peninsular Portrait, 1811-1814: the Letters of Captain William Bragge, Third (King's Own) Dragoons (London, 1963)
F. Whinyates led.), Letters written by Lieutenant General Thomas Dyne-ley, C.B., R.A., while on Active Service between the Years 1806 and 1815 (London, 1986)
F. Whinyates (ed.), Diary of the Campaigns in the Peninsula for the Years 1811, '12 and '13 (London, 1984)