To begin with, I should explain that this is not a serious post about the history of the Grand Redoubt, Dungeness, although I have included a little information just to put the hilarity in context.

The following correspondence was discovered in the archives some years ago by my good friend Dr Jacqueline Reiter.  Surprisingly, she wasn’t trying to research anything about the latrines at the Grand Redoubt, but she thought this was a hilarious little window into real life in the coastal defences in 1809 and shared them with me. I laughed a lot. Despite the old-fashioned language, my first thought was that nothing changes. Exchanges like this still happen when red tape goes mad every day, all over the world.

Then, inevitably given the date, my thoughts wandered to my fictional officer of light infantry and I mused on the fact that this is just the kind of bureaucratic nonsense which would drive Paul van Daan up the wall. From there, I found myself wondering exactly where Paul might have been while this exchange took place. At that point I realised he would probably have been on the south coast waiting to embark for Portugal with Sir Arthur Wellesley.

Once I’d worked that out, I couldn’t resist composing a typical Van Daan response to this situation. It’s very silly, but  I’ve recently rediscovered it and thought I’d share it for the benefit of those of you who enjoy a good rant from the commander of the 110th. Or for anybody who still sniggers at jokes about toilets.

Romney Marsh has always been vulnerable to attack from across the Channel and with the threat of invasion from Napoleon, Britain began planning a number of defensive measures across Romney Marsh. These included the building of the Royal Military Canal, Martello Towers and a number of gun batteries and forts on the coast at Dungeness and Lydd-on-Sea. The Martello Towers covered the  coast as far as St Mary’s Bay which left the Dungeness peninsular vulnerable to attack. Four batteries were built and these were were supported by a redoubt at Dungeness Point itself.

For clarity, the original letters found in the archive are in italics. The rest, I made up.

Grand Redoubt, Dungeness, 18 April 1809

To Captain Jones, Barrack Master

Sir,

I do hereby certify that the whole of the Privys at this Redoubt wants emptying, and do therefore require you to cause the same to be done with as little delay as possible.

Capt Kynaston, Commanding the Flint Militia

Barrack Office, 9 May, 1809

The Privies to be emptied and the Glass replaced…Mr Jones (Barrack Master) is desired in future to put proper headings and certificates to his Estimates as Emptying Privies cannot be Repairs to Buildings.

By order of the Board, Fred. Mackenzie Esq.

Heretofore Emptying of Privies was always included with Repairs to Buildings

From Captain Jones, 25 May 1809

Emptying Privies is not a business that requires any uncommon hurry, it is the usual Monthly Business…

From Major Paul van Daan, Oporto, 1 June 1809

Dear Captain Jones

Thank you for copying your letter on the matter of the barracks privies. It thoroughly brightened a wet Tuesday in Braga, I must say, I wasn’t expecting it.

It isn’t clear to me exactly what you’re expecting me to do about your privies from Portugal, but since you’ve been kind enough to invite my comments, let me be very precise.

As you are aware, Sir Arthur Wellesley sent me on a tour of inspection of several of the fortifications along the south coast while waiting to embark my battalion to Portugal. I have no idea why he did so, other than to give me something to do, since as far as I’m aware he has no responsibility for these defences and no earthly right to interfere with the running of them. This has never stopped him before and will not stop him in the future.

The inspection was fairly memorable for a number of reasons, but the one that really stands out for me was the stench arising from the privies of the Grand Redoubt at Dungeness. I could smell it as I rode in and I rather imagine that the townspeople of Rye were able to smell it on a daily basis as well; it carried for miles.

What your usual arrangements for getting the privies emptied might be, I neither know nor care. It appears that applying to the Board under the wrong heading could have something to do with the delay according to Mr Frederick Mackenzie’s correspondence. If this was indeed the case, you may reassure yourself that it is unlikely to occur again since I have explained in considerable detail to Mr Mackenzie that he may enter that Estimate under any bloody heading he likes, including Shit Shovelling, for all I care, as long as it gets done in a regular and timely manner. I am fairly sure Mr Mackenzie now understands that if I come back to England to find that those poor bastards manning that redoubt are still having to live with that smell because of his petty, bureaucratic, small-minded need to get the paperwork right, he is going to end up with a wagonload of militia turds on his doorstep under the heading of Just Desserts the following morning.

While Mr Mackenzie is a problem in himself, the fact remains that Captain Kynaston told you those privies were a disgrace on 18th April and it took you until 13^th May to get them emptied. That is approximately 25 days too long. You’ve a tool shed and some spades and if you can’t get the contractor out in a timely manner, it is your duty as Barrack-Master to get the job done however you can. You have a collection of perfectly able-bodied men there, and presumably if they’re capable of filling the privies, they’re capable of emptying them as well. Start with the ones who failed my kit and uniform inspection, I gave you a list of them, and there were enough of them to keep those privies fit to dine out of, they were a disgrace.

I sincerely hope you have no further problems with this matter, but in case you do, be assured that I’ve written not only to your commanding officer, but to Major-General Whetham reporting on the conditions I found there, so I rather imagine you’ll be subjected to more regular inspections in the future. I do hope so for the health and well-being of the men you command.

Finally, I refer to your comment suggesting that Emptying Privies is not a business that requires any uncommon hurry. That’s an interesting perspective, and not one I share. Every single aspect of your duty as Barrack-Master requires uncommon hurry if it affects the men who will be expected to defend their country against a French invasion. I’ve no idea when I’ll be back in England, but when I am, I intend to travel via Dungeness and if I find those privies in the condition they were when I visited last month, you are going to end up head first in the worst of them with your boots waving in the air, and we’ll see how long any of your men take to haul you out.

Don’t bother me with this nonsense again, there’s a war on.

Respectfully yours

Major Paul van Daan

110^th Infantry.

The post The Grand Redoubt appeared first on Lynn Bryant’s Writing with Labradors.

The Battle of Tenerife, (Comedy Version) was written sitting by a pool in Tenerife last year. For several years, various historian friends and I have occasionally lightened the mood of researching and writing about some of the darker moments of history by writing sketches about how things might really have happened on the day.

In real life, these were battles and things went wrong and men died and there is no intention to forget this. I write about that aspect in my novels. On the other hand, sometimes, reading about and researching a particular military episode, I find myself thinking just….why? How? Who even thought this was a good idea? And I’m sure that there were men out there at the time, who were thinking pretty much the same thing. 

I knew nothing about the Battle of Tenerife other than the fact that Nelson lost his arm there, until I visited Santa Cruz last year and toured the various sites and museums. This sketch is the result of my bewilderment.

Today is the anniversary of the victory at Cape St Vincent. A naval historian friend has been very cross that the shops are full of Valentines Day cards, with not one card celebrating this famous battle. I didn’t have time to write anything about Cape St Vincent, so I thought I’d resurrect this instead, in honour of Admiral Jervis who was probably glad he didn’t go to Santa Cruz de Tenerife in person.

Please enjoy, and remember that Nelson went on to far greater things…

Somewhere at Sea, 1797…

Admiral Jervis is still celebrating his memorable victory at Cape St Vincent. He’s also a bit cross about Cadiz not working out quite so well and those pesky Spanish whizzing treasure ships around right under his nose. The sailors are getting restive. The Admiral is feeling the pressure. It’s Saturday night, a few drinks in the Admiral’s dining cabin and Jervis has had enough…

Jervis: What we need is a win. A nice little win. No, a nice big win. Big fat hairy prizes. Loadsa money…”

Captain: I say, Admiral, are you all right? Good wine, this. Strong, though. Maybe we should…

Jervis: Pour another one. A big one. Cadiz was a stupid idea anyway. Who goes there? Nobody. Nothing to see, nothing to do. We want somewhere nice. Somewhere sunny. Somewhere popular, full of treasure ships and nice forts we can blow up. We want….I know – Tenerife!

Captain: Tenerife, sir? Are you sure? I mean, why?

Jervis: Lovely place. Great for holidays. Should be British. Don’t argue with me and pour another glass. Now, who shall we send? I know! Whatshisname! You know. Little fella with the funny hair and squeaky voice.

Captain: Do you mean Admiral Nelson, sir?

Jervis: Nelson. That’s the one. Send him a message, will you? Now, anybody for charades?

HMS Theseus, July 1797

Nelson: Well here we are, chaps. Almost at Santa Cruz de Tenerife, and a very fine day for it. Now, I’ve got my plan of attack all worked out and if everybody does exactly as I say, it will all go swimmingly.

Troubridge: I hope not, Admiral.

Nelson: What the devil do you mean, Troubridge?

Troubridge: Swimmingly, sir. Swimming not really the idea here, what?

Nelson: Was that a joke, Troubridge?

Troubridge: Er – yes, sir.

Nelson: Not funny. Not even slightly. If there are jokes to be made, I’ll make them. I’m the Admiral. All jokes should be run past me, clear?

Troubridge: Yes, sir.

Nelson: Now, here’s the plan. Troubridge, you’ll lead a night time landing. The frigates will approach the shore stealthily and disembark troops then attack the Spanish batteries north east of the harbour. Crompton, you’ll open mortar fire on the city. My ships of the line will enter the harbour at break of dawn, gloriously, seize the Spanish merchant ships and win the day.

Troubridge: Any news of the rest of the troops?

Hood: Not good, sir. A lot of the boats were hit and the Fox was sunk. A lot of casualties on the beach. Bowen managed to spike some of the guns and rushed the town but he and his men were cut down by grapeshot. Most of the troops had to retreat. And there’s worse news. Admiral Nelson was wounded in the boat and had to be rowed back to the Theseus. I am sorry.

Troubridge: So the Admiral isn’t able to give any more orders?

Hood: I don’t think so.

Troubridge: Well cheer up, Hood. We might get out of this alive after all. Right, send a message to Gutierrez demanding the surrender of the San Jose or we will burn the town.

Two hours later

Hood: There’s a reply from General Gutierrez, Captain.

Troubridge: What does he say?

Hood: I don’t know that word. Anybody here speak Spanish?

Troubridge: Don’t bother, Hood, I know that word. What’s that noise…oh bloody hell. Take cover, everybody!

One hour later

Hood: Good news, Captain. We’ve got a message from the fleet. Admiral Nelson has survived the amputation of his arm and is sitting up and able to give orders again.

Troubridge: Bugger.

Hood: Also bad news. The Spanish have blockaded the pier so we can’t escape. Admiral Nelson tried to send 15 boats with reinforcements but they were driven back with the loss of 3 boats.

Troubridge: Oh stuff it, I’ve had enough. Send another message, Hood. In fact take it yourself. Find out what Gutierrez will accept in terms of surrender and let’s get out of here.

Some time later, somewhere in England, debriefing meeting

Jervis: So you surrendered to the Spanish, Nelson?

Nelson: Not in so many words, Admiral. Technically, Troubridge did. I was disappointed. If only I’d not been wounded, I’m sure we would have prevailed.

Jervis: What terms?

Nelson: Very generous, I thought. Very good chap, Gutierrez, very gentlemanly. Our men were allowed to return to their ships with full military honours as long as Hood undertook not to burn the town, or make any further attacks on Tenerife or the Canary Islands. And he lent us two schooners to help us on the way back, we were a bit short with so many being shot up and sunk. As a matter of fact I sent a thank you letter to Gutiérrez along with some beer and cheese. I got a very nice reply with some Spanish wine and cheese. Dreadful stuff but he meant well.

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