Historical novels Archives - Page 15 of 20 - Lynn Bryant’s Writing with Labradors

13th November 201713th November 2017

Battle of Bussaco: an excerpt from An Irregular Regiment

The Battle of Bussaco takes place at the beginning of book 2 of the Peninsular War Saga, An Irregular Regiment. Lord Wellington had organised a retreat back to the Lines of Torres Vedras, the series of defences he had built to protect Lisbon from the invading French. He was not in a position to push the French back at this point, so the battle was more of a delaying tactic, but it was very successful and made an important point to Massena. It was also an opportunity for Wellington to try out the newly reorganised Portuguese army in battle and he was very happy with their performance. In the book, Major Paul van Daan is newly married to his second wife and back on the battlefield without time for a honeymoon…

Paul could hear them now, the steady drum beat of the approaching columns. He turned to O’Reilly.
“They’re coming,” he said, and raised his voice softly. “110th at the ready!”
“Ready, sir,” Wheeler called back, and the order was passed along the lines. There was no bugle call on this occasion. Craufurd wanted the presence of such a large force to come as a shock to the French.
Michael checked his rifle and looked over his shoulder. “Nice and steady boys,” he said. “No need to be heroic here, the bastards have no idea they’re about to walk into us. Wait for my word, now.”
“Light company ready, Sergeant?”
“Ready as they’ll ever be, sir.”
Paul moved along the ranks his eyes checking for potential problems. They could hear the marching of the French coming closer through the mist and he saw the green jackets of the 95th further up beginning to move forward in skirmish formation. He nodded to Michael.
“Corporal Carter,” Michael called.
“Yes, Sergeant.”
“Will your lads pay particular attention to not letting the Major get himself killed today? You know how clumsy he is, and if I have to take him down to the hospital with a hole in him, his wife is likely to be after us with a scalpel.”
Paul looked back, startled, and then began to laugh. “Corporal Carter!”
“Sir.”
“Let the lads know there’ll be extra grog for the man who shoots Sergeant O’Reilly for me today. Make it look like an accident.”
There was a muted rumble of laughter. “Do it now for you if you like, sir!” one of the sharpshooters called. “No need for extra grog, be my pleasure!”
“You’d better hope the French get you today, Scofield, you cheeky bastard!” the sergeant said, laughing. “Ready now boys.”
“Get going,” Paul said, and Captain Swanson called the order and led his men forward.
They watched as the skirmishers moved over the ridge, taking down individual Frenchmen with accurate rifle fire. It took some time. Paul grinned as he realised that his light company were getting carried away with their feinted attack and were actually pushing the French column back. He imagined that Craufurd was cursing them for delaying the French advance. He could not sound a retreat without alerting the French to his position so he settled down to wait for Carl and O’Reilly to pull them back. Eventually he saw them moving back up the ridge, saw Carter and young Hammond laughing, having just received an earful from their exasperated sergeant. The rifles of the light division were already back up the ridge and the French came on, causing the English gunners to limber up and pull back. Still they waited. The French came closer, pressing on, thinking that on this part of the ridge at least they had the English on the run. They could only see the thin line of the 43rd.
Craufurd held his nerve. The leading column was within twenty-five yards of the crest, and Paul could see the individual faces of each Frenchman when he heard Black Bob yell. “52nd and 110th – avenge Moore!”
It was an emotive cry. There were men of both regiments who had seen Sir John Moore fall at Corunna and he had been beloved of the men he commanded. Paul had done his early training under Moore and had always believed him to be one of the best commanders of light infantry in the army.
“Fire!” Paul roared, and along the line the 52nd and the 110th rose and fired a staggering volley of rifle and musket fire at point blank range into the enemy. No man at the front of the columns was left standing. Along the line his men were reloading, as the shocked Frenchmen reeled, and then steadied and clambered over the bodies of their comrades and ran into a second devastating volley. Some of his riflemen fell back to reload and manage a third, but the rest fixed bayonets and Paul drew his sword.
In the roar of the musket fire and the screams of wounded and dying men, Paul moved his lines steadily forward. He had deliberately allowed the experienced men of the 110th to bear the brunt of the first attack and seeing that they were holding their own without difficulty he ran back to his two Portuguese battalions leaving Johnny to lead the 110th on. These were raw inexperienced troops but he was hopeful that with him at their head they would stand.
He was not disappointed. As the musket fire tapered off, the men were fighting with bayonets and swords, and he led his Portuguese into the fray. With the example of the 110th already cutting their way through the French lines, they did not hesitate, and before long the French advance had halted and the whole line was wavering. Paul’s men found time to reload again, and as another barrage of fire crashed into them the French began to run. Some of the Portuguese chased after them, and Paul bellowed to stop them. Without being able to see what was happening all along the ridge he would not risk them charging through French lines and being cut off and hacked to pieces.
A small party of horsemen approached from the north. “Nice work, Major van Daan,” Lord Wellington said. “Our allies are looking good today.”
“Our allies are looking bloody brilliant, sir,” Paul said. He was delighted with the performance of his Portuguese, and he could sense the high spirits of the troops. They had worked hard and trained well, but nothing improved morale as well as a successful action.
“Think you can make them even better, Major?” Wellington asked quietly, and Paul looked up sharply.
“Given some time, definitely, sir.”
“I’ll bear that in mind. They’ll remain under your command for the time being until we have a chance to talk.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wellington looked along the line to where Craufurd was approaching. “General Craufurd. Superb work, sir. Couldn’t have gone better. I think that will more or less do it for the day. They might rattle away at us a bit, but they’ve got the point. Well done, sir.”
Craufurd’s face lightened slightly. “Thank you, sir. Good tactics.” He glanced at Paul, and his mouth twitched into what was almost a smile. “Well done, Major van Daan.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Wellington smiled as he watched Craufurd move back down the lines. “Nicely handled, Major. Your diplomatic skills have improved since India.”
“I hope so, sir. I was an arrogant young bastard then.”
“You still are, Major. You just hide it better. Hold the line and be ready in case I need you elsewhere, you’re the fastest battalion I have. But I think we’re mostly done.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll keep picking them off as we see them. Good shooting practice for the lads.” Paul raised his voice. “Carter! O’Reilly still alive, is he? Why? Get on with it, lad, haven’t got all day!”
“You’re a murdering bastard, so you are, sir!” an Irish voice called, and Michael emerged through the smoke which hung like a pall over the battlefield and realised that Wellington was listening with great interest. “Oh sorry, sir, didn’t know you were here. Major van Daan is just trying to talk the lads into shooting me, sir.”
Wellington gave one of his alarming cracks of laughter. “Is he? Well I’d better get out of here then in case he decides to set them on me! Hope you survive the day, Sergeant.”
“Thank you, sir, appreciate your support,” Michael said. He watched as the general rode off up the line. “Peterson is down, sir, shot through the shoulder. I’ve sent him up to the back to get treated. Can’t have him lying around to trip over if they come again. No other casualties.”
“Good. Carl, do you know how the other brigades are doing?”
“All good I think. They’d no idea we had so many men. Brilliant tactics.”
“Aye, Hookey knows his work. They don’t know they’re beaten yet, but they are. Let’s keep it up, nice and steady. If it’s French, shoot it.” He looked at Michael and grinned. “Or Irish and wearing sergeant’s stripes.”
“Very funny. If I get caught in the crossfire you’ll be laughing on the other side of your face, so you will.”
“Stay alive, Michael. If I get you killed, she’ll murder me. She likes you, you’re always on her side if we fight.”
“We’re all on her side, sir, in case you’d not realised. She’s prettier than you. And possibly a better soldier too, now that I’ve seen her in a fight.”
Paul laughed. “She fights dirtier than you do, Sergeant.”
“Good. I hope she shoots you on sight.”

(From An Irregular Regiment: Book 2 of the Peninsular War Saga by Lynn Bryant)

Monument to the Battle of Bussaco

11th November 2017

Excerpt from An Unconventional Officer

Excerpt from An Unconventional Officer: how to deal with an insult to your wife…

Paul arrived on the parade ground in time for early drill, and he was amused to see that every one of the officers of the 110th were present. He wondered what they were expecting him to do, and what any of them imagined they could do to stop him. Carl approached him as the men marched out.
“How is Rowena?” he asked.
“She’ll be all right. Of course it might take me another two years to get her to attend a social event again. Anybody seen Tyler yet?”
Carl shook his head. “Sleeping it off, I imagine. He made a complete arse of himself, Paul, and he’ll need to apologise. But…”
Paul studied his friend. He was remembering Rowena as she had looked this morning, her fair hair tumbled across the pillow and her eyes still looking slightly swollen from crying so much.
“I certainly think an apology is in order, Carl. I’ll remember to mention that to him.”
Paul walked across the yard to the barracks block. Johnny joined Carl. “I had a feeling this was going too well,” he said.
“Oh bloody hell, this is not looking good!” Carl said. “What in God’s name is he doing?”
Sergeant O’Reilly joined them. “I thought you said he looked fairly calm last night?” he said.
“Sometimes I get things wrong, Sergeant.”
Paul walked into the barracks of the light company. At one end of the room were two waste buckets, not yet emptied into the latrines. Both were full and reeking. He picked one up and went back out into the square. Officers and men of the 110th watched him in frozen horror as he approached the officers’ block.
“Oh no,” Carl said.
“Jesus, he isn’t going to…?” Withers said in awe.
“Do you think Tyler locks his door?” Young said.
“I don’t think it matters whether he does or not,” Johnny said. Paul had disappeared into the block and there was a sudden explosion of sound, echoing around the silent parade ground as Captain Tyler’s door was kicked open, breaking the lock. After a long moment there was a bellow of horrified rage and disgust.
Captain van Daan reappeared carrying the empty waste bucket, which he dropped by the door. He walked over to the pump. A bucket, already full of icy well water, stood beside it. He picked up the bucket and disappeared back into the block, and a second outraged scream followed the first. Paul re-emerged and set the bucket down. Behind him Tyler exploded into the yard in his nightclothes, urine, excrement and cold water streaming off him. He was yelling profanities at Paul’s uninterested back.
“Carl, I’d a note this morning from Wellesley asking me to call. Apparently he’s had news from London. Will you finish drill and inspections? You might want to get a carpenter to fix Mr Tyler’s door for him, tell them to send the bill to me, would you? And get four volunteers to clean up his room; it’s a bit of a mess. Tell them there’s a bottle or two in it for them, and a present for whichever lass has to do the laundry.”
“Yes, sir,” Carl said without expression.
“Thank you.”
“You are not getting away with this, you arrogant bastard!” Tyler yelled.
Paul turned. “You owe my wife an apology, Tyler. I suggest you put it in writing before the end of the day; I don’t want her upset by the sight of you! And you go anywhere near her again or say anything more personal than ‘good day’ to her; I will throw you through a window without bothering to open it first. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
“By God, sir, I’m not letting you get away with this! I’ll see you at dawn, sir!”
“It is fucking dawn, Tyler, and it’s not an hour that you see very often, but I’ll be out here every day at this time, so if you want to go and find a sword or get a pistol and give me the opportunity to make you look like an even bigger twat than you already do, go right ahead, and I’ll just wait here for you! I’m not here to prat around with you, I’m here because I’m ordered to be here, and actually I’m fairly pissed off about it because I’d rather be killing Frenchmen. But if you want to give me a bit of extra practice, you just let me know right now!”
There was complete silence around the parade ground. Into it, Paul said:
“No. I thought not. Then if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and see the Chief Secretary, and I suggest you get a bath, because I can smell you from here. And don’t forget to write that letter to my wife, or you’ll be woken up tomorrow morning with two buckets of that. Good morning.”

(From An Unconventional Officer by Lynn Bryant, Book 1 of the Peninsular War Saga, available on Amazon kindle and in paperback)

2nd November 2017

The Border Reivers

A Marcher Lord - a story of the Anglo-Scottish borders

For 300 years the people of the Anglo-Scottish Border region lived in a war zone. Invading armies caused terror, destruction and death and the ongoing conflict forged men who were expert raiders and cattle thieves, owing loyalty to none but their own clan, their own surname. We have come to know them as the Border Reivers.

Since the Middle Ages, England and Scotland were often at war, and the people who suffered most were the ordinary folk of the Anglo-Scottish borders. Their livelihood was torn apart by the wars and even in times of peace, ongoing tension was high and royal authority on either side could not be relied upon to keep their people safe.

The Borderers found their own solution. Families, kindred and surnames sought security through their own means, using strength, cunning and a degree of ruthlessness which was nothing less than piracy on land to improve their lot at the expense of whoever appeared to be their enemy at the time. Over the years feuds and enmities grew to enormous proportions and loyalty to kin and surnames overrode any sense of national loyalty. With any man and his family a potential target for depredations, it became important to know where it was safe to bestow trust.

It was a predatory way to live, not helped by the local inheritance system of gavelkind, by which estates were divided equally between all sons on a man’s death, so that many people owned insufficient land to maintain themselves. Much of the border region is mountainous or open moorland, unsuitable for arable farming but good for grazing. Livestock was easily stolen and driven back to raiders’ territory by mounted reivers who knew the country. The raiders also often stole portable household goods or valuables, and took prisoners for ransom.

The attitudes of the English and Scottish governments towards the border families moved between indulgence and encouragement, as these martial families acted as the first line of defence against invasion across the border, to furious and brutal punishment when their lawlessness became impossible for the authorities to tolerate.

“Reive” is an early English word for “to rob” and is related to the old English verb reave, meaning to plunder or to rob and to the modern English word “ruffian”. The reivers were both English and Scottish and raided both sides of the border impartially, so long as the people they raided had no protection and no connection to their own kin. Their activities, although usually within a day’s ride of the border, might extend both north and south of their main riding areas. English raiders had been known to raid the outskirts of Edinburgh, and Scottish raids had been seen as far south as Yorkshire. The largest of these was The Great Raid of 1322, during the Scottish Wars of Independence, which reached as far south as Chorley. The main riding season ran through the early winter months, when the nights were longest and the cattle and horses fat from summer grazing. The numbers involved in a raid might range from a few dozen to three thousand riders.

When riding, the reivers rode light on hardy nags known as hobbies, renowned for their ability to pick their way over the boggy country. They wore light armour such as jacks of plated steel, a type of sleeveless doublet into which small plates of steel were stitched and metal helmets such as burgonets or morions; hence their nickname of the “steel bonnets”. They were armed with lances and small shields, and sometimes also with longbows, or light crossbows and later on in their history with one or more pistols. They also carried swords and dirks.

During the sixteenth century, areas of the borders were a virtual “no man’s land”. The Wardens of the Marches, both Scottish and English, made periodic attempts to bring some of the major riding families under control although corruption was rife and some of the Wardens were reivers themselves while many of them turned a blind eye to raiding, theft and the system of Black Rent – the origin of the work Blackmail.

The ordinary people of the borders adjusted to the system, suffered, paid, were burned out and sometimes died. It was a time of great brutality and intermittent wars between England and Scotland only added to the confusion and the problem. Feuds between families could last for decades and the original reason for the blood feud was often forgotten in the blood and death which followed. Scott killed Kerr and Maxwells hunted Johnstones, and surnames across the border united against a common enemy with kinship held far higher than national loyalty.

In 1525, the Archbishop of Glasgow took it upon himself to excommunicate the Border thieves. It is doubtful if the riding surnames were very impressed having long since given up on both church and state but the curse was ordered to be read from every pulpit in the diocese and be circulated throughout the length and breadth of the Borders.

I DENOUNCE, PROCLAIMS, AND DECLARES all and sundry the committers of the said of innocents murders, slaughters, burning, inheritances, robbery, thefts, and spoilings, openly upon day light and under silence of night, as well as within temporal lands as church lands; together with their part takers, assisters, suppliers, knowingly and of their persons, the goods snatched and stolen by them, art or part thereof, and their counsellors and defenders, of their evil deeds generally cursed, waking, aggravated, and re-aggravated, with the great cursing.

“I CURSE their head and all the hairs of their head; I CURSE their face, their eyes, their mouth, their nose, their tongue, their teeth, their skull, their shoulder’s, their breast, their heart, their stomach, their back, their womb, their arms, their legs, their hands, their feet, and every part of their body, from the top of their head to the sole of their feet, before and behind, within and without. I CURSE them going, and I CURSE them riding; I CURSE them standing, and I CURSE them sitting; I CURSE them eating, I CURSE them drinking; I CURSE them walking, I CURSE them sleeping; I CURSE them rising, I CURSE them lying; I CURSE them at home, I CURSE them from home; I CURSE them within the house, I CURSE them without the house; I CURSE their wives, their children and their servants (who) participate with them in their deeds.

I Worry their corn, their cattle, their wool, their sheep, their horse, their swine, their geese, their hens, and all their live goods (animals).
I Worry their houses, their rooms, their kitchens, their stables, their barns, their byres, their barnyards, their cabbage patches, their ploughs, their harrows, and the possessions and houses that are necessary for their sustentation and welfare. All the bad wishes and curses that ever got worldly creature since the beginning of the world to this hour might light upon them. The malediction of God, that lighted upon Lucifer and all his fellows, that struck them from the high heaven to the deep hell, might light upon them. The re and the sword that stopped Adam from the gates of Paradise might stop them from the glory of Heaven, until they forbear and make amends. The bad wishes that lighted on cursed Cain, when he slew his brother just Abel guiltless, might light on them for the innocent slaughter that they commit daily. The malediction that lighted upon all the world, man and beast, and all that ever took life, when all were drowned by the flood of Noah, except Noah and his ark, might light upon them and drown them, man and beast, and make this realm free of them for their wicked sins. The thunder and lightning that set down as rain upon the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, with all the lands about, and burnt them for their vile sins, might rain upon them, and burn them for open sins. The bad wishes and confusion that lighted on the Gigantis for their oppression and pride, building the tour of Babylon, might confound them and all their works, for their open disregard and oppression. All the plagues that fell upon Pharaoh and his people of Egypt, their lands, corn and cattle, might fall upon them, their leases (of land), rooms and buildings, corn and animals. The river of Tweed and other rivers where they ride might drown them, as the Red Sea drowned King Pharaoh and his people of Egypt, pursuing Gods people of Israel. The earth might open, split and cleave and swallow them alive to hell, as it swallowed cursed Dathan and Abiron, that disobeyed Moses and command of God. The wild re that burnt Thore and his fellows to the number of two hundredth and fty, and others 14,000 and 700 at anys, usurping against Moses and Aaron, servants of God, might suddenly burn and consume them daily disobeyed and commands of God and holy church.

The malediction that lights suddenly upon fair Absolom, riding contrary to his father, King David, servant of God, through the wood, when the branches of a tree knocked him off his horse and hanged him by the hair, might light upon them, untrue Scots men, and hang them suchlike that all the world may see.

The malediction that lighted upon Olifernus, lieutenant to Nebuchadnezzar’s, making war and hardships upon true Christian men; the malediction that lighted upon Judas, Pilot, Herod and the Jews that cruci ed Our Lord, and all the plagues and troubles that lighted on the city of Jerusalem therefore, and upon Simon Magus for his treachery, bloody Nero, cursed Ditius Magcensius, Olibrius, Julianus, Apostita and the rest of the cruel tyrants that slew and murdered Christ’s holy servants, might light upon them for their cruel tyranny and martyrdom of Christian people. And all the vengeance that ever was taken since the world began for open sins, and all the plagues and pestilence that ever fell on man or beast, might fall on them for their open evil, slaughter of guiltless and shedding of innocent blood. I SEVER and PARTS them from the kirk of God, and deliver them alive to the devil of hell, as the Apostil Saint Paul delivered Corinth. I exclude the places they come in for divine service, ministration of the sacraments of holy church, except the sacrament of baptising only; and forbid all churchmen to take confession or absolve them of their sins, which they be rst absolved of this cursing.

I FORBID all Christian man or woman to have any company with them, eating, drinking, speaking, praying, lying, standing, or in any other deed doing, under the pain of deadly sin.

I DISCHARGE all bonds, acts, contracts, oaths and obligations made to them by any persons, other of law, kindness or duty, so long as they sustain this cursing; so that no man be bound to them, and that they be bound to all men. I Take from them and cry down all the good deeds that ever they did or shall do, which they rise from this cursing. I DECLARE them excluded of all matins, masses, evensongs, mourning or other prayers, on book or bead; of all pilgrimages and poorhouse deeds done or to be done in holy church or by Christian people, enduring this cursing.

“And, nally, I CONDEMN them perpetually to the deep pit of hell, to remain with Lucifer and all his fellows, and their bodies to the gallows of the Burrow Muir, rst to be hanged, then torn apart with dogs, swine, and other wild beasts, abominable to all the world. And their life gone from your sight, as might their souls go from the sight of God, and their good fame from the world, which they forbear their open sins aforesaid and rise from this terrible cursing, and make satisfaction and penance”.

The Archbishop seems to have lost patience with the Reivers and one imagines he was not the only one to do so.

In modern times the story of the Border Reivers has been brilliantly told in histories by George MacDonald Fraser in The Steel Bonnets and by Alistair Moffat in The Reivers. In fiction, Dorothy Dunnett covered the difficulties of establishing law and order on the borders in the literary brilliance of the Lymond Chronicles and more recently P F Chisholm, alias Patricia Finney has told the fictional story of the real life Warden Sir Robert Carey in an excellent series of novels which have recently been reissued in omnibus editions, the first of which is Guns in the North.

My own contribution to the story of the Border Reivers is A Marcher Lord, set during the Wars of the Rough Wooing when Edward VI’s government under the Lord Protector Somerset tried to capture the baby Mary Queen of Scots in order to marry her to their young King. The novel tells the story of a Scottish border lord, loyal to the Crown and a young Englishwoman new to the borders with no fixed loyalties but a wealth of experience of the mercenary bands of Europe.

The Anglo-Scottish borders are one of my favourite parts of the world. I love the countryside, the history and the people. Many of my books are set in the Peninsular War of the early nineteenth century but I enjoyed my research into sixteenth century Scotland and I intend to return soon to find out what Will and Jenny did next…

23rd October 2017

The Sharpe Books by Bernard Cornwell- my elephant in the room…

An Uncommon Campaign, 110th at the Battle of Fuentes d'Onoro

In describing the Sharpe books by Bernard Cornwell as my elephant in the room, I’m very definitely not being serious. These novels are a lot bigger than an elephant.

During the course of this year I have independently published the first four books of my Peninsular War Saga on Amazon, and before I did that I was already nervous about them being compared to the Sharpe novels, since those, for most people, are the gold standard of novels describing Wellington’s war in Portugal and Spain in the early nineteenth century. Authors like C S Forester, Patrick O’Brian, Alexander Kent and Dudley Pope have depicted the navy in impressive detail, and in recent years, Cornwell has been joined by authors such as Adrian Goldsworthy and Iain Gale. But Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe remains the character that most people remember from popular fiction when they think of the Peninsular War.

In part, of course, this has a lot to do with the classic TV adaptations starring Sean Bean which aired between 1993 and 2008, based loosely on the books. But Cornwell’s books, with their meticulous research and brilliant battle descriptions are enduringly popular in their own right, and for a new writer, the thought of being compared to a writer who has already done something so extraordinarily well, is extremely daunting and definitely unavoidable.

The first four novels of my Peninsular War Saga were all published between May and September of 2017, but I had been writing them for a number of years. My original hope was to try to find an agent and go the traditional publishing route, but the responses I received all gave me the same message; there is currently no market for historical novels set in the Peninsular War. Unless, presumably, they’re written by Bernard Cornwell. Left with the choice of abandoning the books or going the independent route, I chose the latter and I’m very glad I did. In less than six months, I’ve sold some books and I’ve had a few reviews, mostly very positive, one or two less so. I’m currently working on book five and I’m enjoying myself very much. But good or bad, the reviews tend to mention the S word, and it’s led me to finally stop ignoring it and to stare straight at the elephant. I’ve received a number of messages and posts asking questions about this, and I thought I’d use those as a basis to face up to my fear of Richard Sharpe…

Did you get the idea for your books from reading or watching Sharpe?

No.

The lead character in my books is called Paul van Daan, and he came into being very early on in my writing career. I’ve always been obsessed with history, studied at school and then at university. I’ve always read a lot, especially historical novels, and I started to write my own as a teenager. They were dreadful and I destroyed them many years ago.

The first full length book I wrote was set in South Africa in the nineteenth century. It was a period I’d studied and was fascinated by, especially given the political situation at the time with apartheid. I read everything I could about how South Africa came to be the way it was, and I wrote a novel based around the early conflict between Boer and British which led to the Great Trek. My leading character was a Boer who had lost family at Blood River, but who for various reasons found himself being educated and raised as an Englishman, with all the ensuing conflict. The young officer’s name was Paul van Daan.

Over the years I wrote a lot of other stories and novels, most unfinished. I made a few efforts at getting published, but it became obvious very early on that I was going to get nowhere with my South African novel. The political climate became increasingly sensitive, and it was obvious that a white, English working class female was not the right person to publish a novel set in nineteenth century South Africa with all it’s complicated racial politics. Paul and his story were abandoned in favour of other things.

A few years ago, with my children growing up, I decided to give writing another go and I worked on several other projects, while re-reading my earlier efforts. Most of them were unceremoniously dumped at that point, but something about this novel stayed with me although I had no intention of going back to it. After a lot of thought, I realised that it was the characters that I liked. Paul van Daan was a soldier, not particularly easy but to me, very appealing. Carl, Johnny and Michael were all a part of that early book. So was Anne. Paul’s first wife was Dutch and was named Renata. Of all of them, her character probably changed the most. Renata was something of a mouse, while I really like Rowena. But I was surprised overall at how happy I was with this little group of people even though I wasn’t that happy at where they were living. But it occurred to me suddenly that I didn’t need to be wedded to one particular location or time period.

Once I was looking for somewhere to relocate my series, the Napoleonic wars were obvious. I’d studied them and I’d read about them. By this stage I had both read and watched Sharpe, and then followed up by a lot of reading of biographies. In particular I was very attached to Sir Harry Smith who was a major character in the original novel as mentor and friend to the young Paul van Daan. I’d read his autobiography as background and that played a big part in my decision to attempt the Peninsular war. I’m rather delighted with the fact that in the novels I’ve published, their relationship is reversed and it’s Paul who is the senior, taking an interest in young Captain Smith’s career…

For a while, I pretended not to think about Sharpe, but it didn’t bother me anyway since I didn’t really think I’d ever get far enough to publish the books.

Is your lead character like Richard Sharpe?

Not much, to be honest.

Richard Sharpe was a lad from a poor background who joined the army and managed, through talent, courage and a lot of luck to get himself an officer’s commission at a time when most commissions were purchased. He was a good soldier and a good leader but he struggled to fit in because of his background. Every promotion was a fight for him and he had to be better than all the others to achieve them.

Paul van Daan, in contrast, was born with the proverbial silver spoon. His father made his money through trade, his mother was English aristocracy and he went to Eton and Oxford. He’s arrogant, clever and always knows best and he has enough money to buy his way to the top. If he’d been around after Talavera, he would have been the man Josefina ran off with because he could have afforded her. Richard Sharpe would have hated him on sight.

Looking a bit closer, however, maybe not.

Paul van Daan has one or two odd things in common with Sharpe. One of them is a very pretty set of stripes across his back. Sharpe got his during his early days in the army; Paul got his in the Royal Navy. After he got thrown out of Eton for a long list of bad behaviour which culminated in him throwing the Greek master into a fountain, his father sent him to sea as a midshipman on one of his trading vessels to make a man of him. The ship was wrecked and only one lifeboat made it to shore on Antigua where the men were scooped up by a press gang desperate for experienced sailors. Nobody believed Paul’s story about his wealthy background, or perhaps they just didn’t care that much; they were desperate for men. At fifteen, Paul fought at the Battle of the Nile under Nelson and earned himself a promotion to petty officer before he managed to get word to his father who secured his release.

Two years below decks gave Paul van Daan a slightly eccentric outlook for a young gentleman which he took into the army with him a few years later. Sharpe might have hated him on sight, but I’d pretty much guarantee that after their first battle together, they’d have been getting happily drunk together.

What about promotions?

Not much doubt who is going to move faster through the hierarchy given Paul’s money and background. Sharpe would definitely have been grouchy about that. Paul is a major at 26 when Sharpe hadn’t even got started properly, and a colonel in his thirties. Having got there, however, he stays there for a long time. He’s found his niche, he’s not after more money and he wouldn’t take an administrative posting to move up if you begged him to; Paul likes to fight. He’ll finally move up again for Waterloo, I suspect, but we’ll see…

And the Chosen Men?

Paul’s friendships aren’t always popular with the army establishment. He’s on equally good terms with the son of an Earl and his cockney sergeant. He’s not in the Rifles, but he is a light infantry officer. After a lot of thought I invented a completely new regiment or two for my books and expanded the light division to accommodate them.

There is an Irish sergeant although he doesn’t resemble Patrick Harper very much since he’s an educated man who joined the ranks to hide after a failed rebellion in Ireland.

And Wellington? Paul is close to him in a way that Sharpe could never have been. Partly that’s because of his background; Wellington was a snob. Almost as important, though, is the fact that Paul has the thickest skin in the British army and doesn’t care how much his chief yells at him, which is probably a pleasant change for Wellington who tended to upset more sensitive souls. The only things Paul gets upset about are arseholes saying the wrong thing about his wife and any general whose incompetence puts his men at risk.

And what about the women?

Ah yes. Well, there are a few, in the early days. Definitely something Paul and Richard Sharpe have in common. Actually, I think Sharpe was often better behaved about this than Paul. But then during a thoroughly unpleasant posting to Yorkshire in 1808, Paul meets Anne Howard. It’s not particularly simple since he’s married and she’s about to be, to a junior officer, but this particular love affair isn’t going to go away. As for running around with other women once he’s with her, I wouldn’t personally recommend it…

If I liked Sharpe, will I enjoy your books?

I’ve got no idea. Try one and if you like it, read the others.

A friend who read them suggested a tagline of Sharpe for Girls. I don’t see it myself, since I know so many women who loved the Sharpe books, but I suspect that one of the biggest differences in style is that although Paul is the main character, once Anne comes on the scene she gets equal treatment a lot of the time. She isn’t really a girl to be sitting around looking pretty and she spends a fair bit of her time in the surgeons tents covered in gore. When she’s not doing that, she’s organising the quartermaster and bullying the commissariat, taking time out to flirt outrageously with the commander-in-chief and generally shocking the ladies of headquarters during winter quarters.

Both men and women seem to be reading and enjoying the books. I’ve recently changed the covers; the first cover was very much a ‘romantic novel’ look and I didn’t think it reflected the books very well. The new covers have definitely improved sales, and I’ve had a couple of very good reviews from men.

How would you describe the books?

Not as a Sharpe copy.

I can’t describe what I’ve written so I’m going to quote a couple of reviews.

“Absolutely brilliant. For 40 years I’ve been fascinated by this period of history, and have read everything I could my hands on, history, biography, memoirs and fiction. This series is the best fiction I’ve ever read – fantastically well researched and historically accurate, with wonderfully drawn characters and relationships. They give a brilliant idea of what war was like then, as well as a moving love story and brilliant relationships between the male characters. Got to the end of number 3 and luckily the fourth was published one day earlier, now I’m dying for no 5.”

“What a great series. Loved the characters. Well researched, unputdownable!”

“Good book well written thoroughly researched.”

I’ve had two bad reviews for these books out of a fair few excellent ones.

One of them complains that the book is too like Sharpe and it’s the reason, to be honest, that I’m writing this post, because it made me think about it. When I write about a particular campaign, my first thought is always, where were my regiment and what was their role in it. When I read that review, I admit to a bit of a panic. I couldn’t remember anything about Sharpe’s role in Massena’s 1811 retreat and I was worried that I’d accidentally copied Cornwell’s treatment of that. I needn’t have worried, Sharpe wasn’t even involved in that campaign, he was off at Barossa. Just as well actually, he’d have killed Erskine stone dead. My lad came close.

When I looked again at the review I realised he’d given equally unfavourable reviews to other authors who had written books about this period, some of them well-known. I’m taking the view that for this particular reviewer, if you’re not Cornwell you shouldn’t be writing about this. Nothing I can do about that.

The other review was a lot more detailed and it was from a lady who seemed to object to the romance in the novel which she complained was too much of a contrast to the unpleasant descriptions of war. I couldn’t establish which she wanted more or less of.

The rest of my reviews have been great and I’m so grateful to the people who have read the books, enjoyed them and taken the trouble to write a review. Even a couple of lines is a big boost.

A few of them mention Sharpe. Every time I see it, I feel very honoured at being mentioned in the same sentence as Bernard Cornwell, since I’ve been reading and loving his books for twenty years now. I’m also completely terrified because I don’t want to let people down by not being as good.

During the years I’ve been working on these books I’ve done an unbelievable amount of research. I’ve learned facts about Wellington’s army that I never thought I’d have reason to know. I’ve also talked to some great people who are as passionate about the period as I am and that’s one of the things I love most about doing this.

Books one to four of the Peninsular War Saga are available on Amazon on kindle and in paperback. Book five, which covers the Salamanca and Burgos campaign, will be published next year. They’re not Richard Sharpe, they’re Paul van Daan. I hope you enjoy them anyway…

17th October 201710th May 2019

The Organisation of Wellington’s Peninsular Army

Wellington’s HQ in Pere Negro, the Lines of Torres Vedras

Battle of Bussaco (organisation of Wellington’s Peninsular army) — Battle of Bussaco

The organisation of Wellington’s Peninsular Army can be split into three main areas; ranks of officers and men, the structure of the army and the support services. Sir Arthur Wellesley arrived in Portugal in 1808 but did not take full command of the army until the following year. Morale was poor and most officers believed that Wellesley would be lucky to hold Lisbon, let alone the rest of Portugal. Wellesley himself seems always to have intended a more aggressive policy although he did not necessarily always share his intentions with the politicians in London. After a resounding success at Oporto and a victory, albeit a difficult one, at Talavera, Wellington embarked on a reorganisation of the army into divisions.

Army Ranks

The ranks listed below show the traditional command structure of the army. In practice, during the war, commands and ranks were very flexible. It was not unusual for a Lieutenant to be found commanding a company or a Major in charge of a battalion. Regiments were often commanded by Lieutenant-colonels if their Regimental Colonel was not in the field.

Officers acquired their commissions by purchase, and theoretically all promotions were also purchased up to the rank of colonel. During the war, however, the large number of officers killed meant that many promotions were given without purchase – less than one in five first commissions were purchased. In some regiments it was possible to advance quite quickly without needing to pay for a commission and a sympathetic regimental colonel could often help talented young officers up the ranks. For more information, historian Robert Griffith has written an excellent post here.

In addition to an officer’s regimental rank, there were also various temporary ranks which could be held, often linked to a particular posting. There is a very good account of these on the Napoleon site here.

It was unusual for NCOs to be given a commission but it did sometimes happen, usually for `acts of specific courage in the field. Because of the class distinctions of the day – officers were supposed to be ‘gentlemen’ it could be difficult for an enlisted man to fit in once he attained his commission.

The exception to this was in the case of ‘gentlemen volunteers’. These were men of good birth who could not afford a commission so joined the ranks. They trained and fought with the enlisted men but messed and socialised with the officers until a commission without purchase became available.

Officers Command

Ensign/Subaltern

Lieutenant

Captain Company

Major Battalion

Lieutenant-Colonel Battalion

Colonel Regiment

Brigadier Brigade

Major General Division

Lieutenant General Corps

General Army

Field Marshal Theatre of war

Non Commissioned Officers (NCOs)

Sergeant-Major

Sergeant

Corporal

Chosen Man was occasionally used as an informal award to a promising private soldier, later formalised into the rank of Lance Corporal.

Structure of the Army

The Peninsular Army was structured as shown below. As with the ranks listed above, there was a lot of variety in numbers and commands. Most regiments were permanently under strength due to death, injury and sickness so the numbers below are very general and would have varied widely between different regiments and at different stages of the war. The structure below is that of the infantry; cavalry was organised slightly differently.

Company

Each company consisted of around 100 men. It was commanded by a Captain with two lieutenants and two ensigns. There were two sergeants per company and three corporals.

Battalion

Each battalion consisted of 10 companies; 8 infantry companies, a company of guards and a light company. The guards tended to be used for main assaults, they recruited big men and their job was to stand firm. The light company were skirmishers; fast, agile and smart with the capacity to think independently.

Some battalions also had their own Regimental Sergeant-Major who had overall charge of discipline, although this does not seem to have been an official rank and varied between regiments.

Regiment

Most regiments consisted of two battalions although some had three or more, particularly the Rifles. It was unusual for both battalions of a regiment to be serving in the same army although it did happen, once again most notably with the Rifles. Usually the second battalion was either serving elsewhere, or back in barracks providing reinforcements to the first battalion in the field.

Confusingly, both officers and men often referred to their battalion as their regiment so that the two terms can be used interchangeably at times. Each regiment had a Colonel in Chief who might have been serving in the field but was often more of a figurehead, with the actual command being left to a lieutenant colonel.

Brigade

Two to four regiments / battalions comprised a brigade, which was presided over by a brigade commander. The actual term Brigadier was not often used. A brigade commander could be a colonel or lieutenant colonel, usually of one of the regiments included in the brigade.

Division

A division consisted of two to four brigades, usually between 5,000 and 15,000 men with 10,000 being fairly normal. Divisional commanders could be Major-Generals or Lieutenant-Generals. Wellington had seven divisions and added an eighth in 1811. The light division was generally the smallest.

In my Peninsular War saga, Paul van Daan joined the 110th in 1802 at the age of 21. He was slightly older than most new officers and joined as an ensign but purchased immediately on to lieutenant. This practice was not officially allowed, but often happened with men who could afford it if commissions were available and the regimental colonel agreed.

Theoretically, promotions were offered within the regiment in very strict order of rank and length of service. If a man could not afford to purchase the higher rank, it would be offered to the next man in line. Prices of commissions were fixed, but when officers sold their commission on, they often added a premium on to it. These premiums were strictly illegal and very common, and in fashionable regiments could be very high, making those regiments exclusive to wealthy men.

Paul’s first promotion was given in the field and he was fairly young for it although it was not unheard of. After that his rise was fast; he could afford it and he was talented, but he did not rise as quickly as Wellington had before him. Wellington was an ensign at 18 and a lieutenant, like Paul, almost immediately afterwards. He was a Captain at 22, also like Paul but gained his majority at only 24 and was a Colonel by the time he was 27 while Paul was thirty. The 110th infantry, certainly in the early books, is not a fashionable regiment and has very few wealthy officers, which makes it possible for Paul to leapfrog men who could not afford an inflated purchase price, a process described in An Unwilling Alliance when Paul’s purchase of his majority funds the retirement of Colonel Dixon.

Support Services

Regiments and battalions had their own quarter-masters, who were in charge of provisions and supplies for the regiment. Wellington had a relatively small headquarters staff and worked them hard. The medical services were under the control of the army medical board in London, and the commissariat which was responsible for supplying the army was also a separate body, a situation which caused a good deal of problems for the commander in chief.

In reality, how each section of the army was run tended to be very much down to local circumstances. Commanding officers varied considerably in their attitudes to discipline and etiquette, and each regiment developed it’s own customs and traditions within the army regulations.

Army headquarters in London was known as Horse Guards and was situated in Whitehall.

Further Reading

There are a lot of good sites on the internet which go into considerable detail about the organisation of the Peninsular Army. A very clear account of it is given in Stuart Reid’s Wellington’s Army in the Peninsula published by Osprey which is available on Amazon.

Rory Muir, who is the best biographer of Wellington ever, in my opinion, has co-written an excellent book with three other historians which gives detailed information on how the army was structured, entitled Inside Wellington’s Peninsular Army.

14th September 20176th October 2017

Sir Arthur Wellesley aka The Duke of Wellington

Sir Arthur Wellesley, later the Duke of Wellington

p02tt21q

On this day in 1852, the Duke of Wellington, the former Sir Arthur Wellesley died at Walmer Castle. He was 83 years old, had been Prime Minister twice and was probably considered one of Britain’s finest generals. In honour of the occasion, I am revising this post from earlier this year.

Since I decided to write a series of books set in the Peninsular War, I have spent an inordinate amount of my time reading about Sir Arthur Wellesley, later Lord Wellington, who led the Anglo-Portuguese army during it’s five year struggle against Napoleon’s forces in Portugal and Spain. I started knowing very little about Wellington and I have ended up by feeling surprisingly attached to him.

My knowledge of Wellington, to be honest, came from my schooldays when I studied nineteenth century politics in history. He was Prime Minister twice, not very successfully, pushed through Catholic emancipation and fought strenuously and unsuccessfully against the Reform Bill, and in my mind he was always a slightly grumpy and very superior elder statesman who looked down his nose at the young Queen Victoria and disliked change and modernisation.

For my Napoleonic fiction books set during the Peninsular War I have had to go right back to the early days of Wellesley’s career. When he is introduced to the young Lieutenant Paul van Daan in 1802 he is a relatively young and inexperienced general with his greatest victories in the future. He had not yet made his disastrous marriage to Kitty Pakenham and the battle of Assaye, which brought him his knighthood and some public attention, was a year away. He was ambitious, single minded and determined, a moderate drinker for the time, a serious student of military affairs and a man who enjoyed the company of women. Even then, he struggled to delegate, and preferred his officers not to show any initiative or to take matters into their own hands.

As I began to read more about Wellington’s character it became obvious that I had accidentally stumbled on the perfect foil for the flamboyant, unpredictable bad boy of the 110th infantry, Lieutenant Paul van Daan who is the Unconventional Officer of the title of the first book. On paper, Paul is everything Wellington likes to see in a young officer; he’s dedicated, intelligent and courageous. In reality, Wellington the control-freak is about to come up against a force of nature and their disagreements are frequent and explosive.

Wellesley was born into an aristocratic Anglo-Irish family as The Hon. Arthur Wesley, the third of five surviving sons to Anne and Garret Wesley, 1st Earl of Mornington. He spent most of his childhood in Ireland and London and went to Eton, which he apparently hated. Arthur was not a promising child, and showed little talent in any particular area. His mother described him as her ‘awkward son Arthur’ and it was not until he attended military school in Angers in his early twenties that he began to show signs of improvement.

In 1787 Arthur obtained his first commission in the army. His promotion, through purchase, was fairly rapid and he held a series of posts in Ireland with mainly social duties. He was elected at MP for Trim in the Irish House of Commons while continuing to serve in the army.

During this time he began his courtship of Kitty Pakenham, the daughter of Edward Pakenham, 2nd Baron Longford. He asked for her hand in marriage in 1793 but was turned down by her family due to his poor prospects. Wellesley took it badly but made the decision to pour his frustrated energies into a serious military career. Borrowing money from his brother he purchased up to lieutenant colonel in the 33rd at the age of 26.

In 1793, the Duke of York was sent to Flanders in command of the British contingent of an allied force destined for the invasion of France. In June 1794, Wellesley with the 33rd regiment set sail from Cork bound for Ostend but they arrived too late and joined the Duke of York as he was pulling back towards the Netherlands. On 15 September 1794, at the Battle of Boxtel Wellington, in temporary command of his brigade, had his first experience of battle. During General Abercromby’s withdrawal in the face of superior French forces, the 33rd held off enemy cavalry, allowing neighbouring units to retreat safely. During the winter that followed, Wellesley and his regiment formed part of an allied force holding the defence line along the Waal River. The army suffered heavy losses from sickness and exposure and Wellesley was ill. The campaign ended badly with the British driven out but Wellesley learned a lot, including why things had gone so badly wrong. The young and inexperienced colonel appeared to have a rare ability to learn from other people’s mistakes which was to prove useful later in life.

Wellesley’s next campaign was in India as full colonel in charge of the 33rd. He spent some time in the Philippines and then fought in the Anglo-Mysore War. It was a campaign of mixed fortunes for Wellesley, but he learned a good deal about logistics and planning which was invaluable in future campaigns.

As war broke out against the Maratha’s, Wellesley, now Major General, made a series of bold decisions to avoid a long defensive war which would have decimated his army. The campaign culminated in the bloody victory at Assaye in 1803 which first marked him out as a commander to watch in the future.

It was in the run up to Assaye that Sir Arthur Wellesley, still plain General Wellesley at this point, in my fictional saga, first encounters the young Lieutenant Paul van Daan, an officer already unpopular among the establishment because of his informal relations with his enlisted men and his casual attitude to army regulations. Sir Arthur Wellesley was as big a snob as any other man in the army and never shared Paul’s egalitarian views, but he did recognise talent and from then onwards, Paul’s fortunes are firmly linked to Wellesley’s. Through India, Denmark, Ireland, Portugal, Spain and France, and finally on the bloody field of Waterloo the older General and the unorthodox young officer fought the Maratha and the French and argued ferociously about Paul’s flexible interpretation of orders and about Wellington’s obsession with controlling every aspect of army life.

Wellington did not have a close relationship with either his staff or his officers. He had little regard for creature comforts. He always rose early and even when he returned to civilian life after 1815, he slept in a camp bed which remains on display in Walmer Castle. General Miguel de Álava later remarked that Wellington said so often that the army would march “at daybreak” and dine on “cold meat”, that he began to dread those two phrases. While on campaign, he seldom ate anything between breakfast and dinner and he was unsympathetic to staff members would would have preferred a more comfortable lifestyle at headquarters. He was, however, a wine snob and insisted on good quality although he drank moderately for his time.

Wellington rarely showed emotion in public, and often appeared condescending to those less competent or less well-born than himself, although paradoxically some of his favourite junior officers came from the middle classes and rose through the ranks by sheer talent, Harry Smith of the rifles being a good example. His relationship with his wife Kitty, whom he eventually married, was not good. She found him cold and distant and very impatient and he found her irritating and somewhat silly. His relationships with other women were a source of speculation throughout his life. Although it was clear that he enjoyed sexual relations with a variety of different women, he was also noted for his friendships with the opposite sex, in particular with the attractive and very intelligent Harriet Arbuthnot, the wife of a friend and colleague who acted as his unofficial hostess and social secretary during his political career.

Wellington was renowned for being a stern disciplinarian who disapproved of soldiers cheering as “too nearly an expression of opinion.” Nevertheless he often put the welfare of his men ahead of military advantage. He was not talked of with affection but with huge respect and the enlisted men preferred him in command ahead of other generals as they trusted his judgement. Occasionally the scale of loss and death caused him to break down after a battle, at Assaye, Badajoz and Waterloo. Wellington has often been portrayed as a defensive general, although his most famous battles were offensive: Argaum, Assaye, Oporto, Salamanca, Vitoria and Toulouse). He always felt undervalued in London and enjoyed a somewhat prickly relationship with the army establishment at Horse Guards.

Wellington died at his favourite home at Walmer Castle, probably after a stroke. During his life he hated travelling by train, probably after witnessing the death of William Huskisson, one of the first railway accident casualties but his body was then taken by train to London, where he was given a state funeral – one of only a handful of British subjects to be honoured in that way along with Lord Nelson and Winston Churchill – on 18 November 1852. There was barely standing room at the funeral as the Duke was buried in a sarcophagus of luxulyanite in St Paul’s Cathedral next to Lord Nelson. A bronze memorial was sculpted by Alfred Stevens, and features two intricate supports: “Truth tearing the tongue out of the mouth of False-hood”, and “Valour trampling Cowardice underfoot”. Wellington’s casket was decorated with banners which were made for his funeral procession. Originally, there was one from Prussia, which was removed during World War I and never reinstated. I have a feeling that Wellington, who always took both a practical and humane view of post-war settlements would have disapproved of that.

In my fictional series about the Peninsular Wars, Paul van Daan’s love story is at the heart of the books. His relationship with his commander-in-chief is almost as important, however, as it gives the reason both for his spectacular rise to command and his frequent explosive arguments with the man who could tolerate no opposition. Increasingly through the years of war, Lord Wellington felt isolated and under siege from political influences in London and worn down by lack of money, men and resources and the limited pool of talented officers available to him on the ground. It increased his tendency to control every aspect of his campaign and the running of the army himself and anybody who reads the volumes of his letters and despatches will quickly begin to realise how involved he was in the detail of administration.

There were few men in his army that Wellington felt comfortable with, but his friendship with the young officer he had first singled out on a hillside in India endures the storms of war and politics. It was a source of envy and resentment among some of the other officers but it was very much understood by Paul’s wife Anne, who has her own surprisingly close relationship with the commander in chief which foreshadows his later friendship with Mrs Arbuthnot, another attractive, intelligent brunette.

When I set out to write these novels, Lord Wellington was supposed to be a subsidiary character with little to do apart from to issue orders and look grumpy. As so often happens with subsidiary characters, he developed a mind of his own and began to intrude into the action in the most unsuitable manner. As he is a general, I thought it best to let him have his way.

9th September 201716th October 2017

Limping with Labradors – Guest blog by Toby

Blogging with Labradors

Toby

Welcome to blogging with labradors.

Hard to believe that this is called blogging with labradors and yet this is the first time I’ve been allowed my own blog post. I mean, she’s very keen on posting ‘cute’ photos of us but do we get a say? No.

Today she’s finally agreed to let me dictate my own post. She can’t do anything else really. I’m still recovering from my recent operation and while I’m lying around looking cute in her socks, she’ll let me get away with pretty much anything…

So, first a little about me. My name is Toby, one of the two stars of Blogging with Labradors. I’m thirteen and a black labrador, born on the Isle of Man up in Ballaugh although my Dad was an Irish show dog. She makes a lot of jokes about the Irish in me, but she’s laughing on the other side of her face at the moment since she just got back the result of her Ancestry DNA test and has discovered that she’s 11% Irish herself. It explains nothing except the strange sense of humour and a somewhat dodgy taste for Irish folk music, but there you go.

I share the house with a family of four humans and another labrador called Joey who was adopted two and a half years after I arrived. Joey is Manx and from a line of working dogs, which means he’s not as good-looking as me, although he’s not bad I suppose. He used to be the energetic one, although he’s got so fat these days that his nickname is either Fattums or the King of Chins. He’s supposed to be on a diet, but that’s a bit of a joke because he’s the most talented food thief I’ve ever met. Generous too, he’s always willing to share what he gets down off the kitchen counters.

Joey the Labrador

My humans are all right really. I like the young ones best. They’re always willing to stop whatever they’re doing, especially if it’s homework, and get down on the floor to give me a bit of a hug or a tummy tickle. They also make a lot less fuss about dog hairs than the older ones.

Both the senior humans do something called “working at home”. This seems to involve endless hours sitting at desks staring at a computer screen although how much of it is work and how much is scrolling through cute dog photos on Facebook and twitter is anybody’s guess. I don’t really mind, because since she started working at home, I’m never without company. She’s moved our beds into the study with her and we pretty much spend our days in there while she mumbles rubbish about Wellington and the battle of Badajoz at the screen and piles up books on the floor because she’s run out of space on the desk. Sometimes we go and lie on the books, just for a laugh, and pretty much every one of them has dog hairs in it and at least one muddy paw print…

We live in Douglas on the Isle of Man which is a great place to live as a dog since it’s full of beaches, glens, rivers and great smells. At my age I don’t walk that far, I’ve got arthritis, but I do like to get out and have a mooch around and a good sniff.

During the past year, she’s started writing books. To be honest, she’s been writing books for years but she’s started publishing them. I have to say I mostly approve since it keeps her quiet and out of mischief and means she spends more time with us. I also like the website and blog, since a bit of publicity never does a labrador any harm, and I’m glad she’s acknowledging how important we’ve been to her success so far.

The thing that has bothered me is that up to now none of these books seems to have had much of a canine element. I mean I know they’re historical novels, but people have had dogs for a good few years now and I can’t believe she’s neglected this important aspect of the human condition. It’s true that there is a brief mention of a hound in “A Marcher Lord” but he barely gets a few lines and there’s no character development. It’s a shocking omission.

A Redoubtable Citadel

The most recent book is called “A Redoubtable Citadel” (where does she get these titles from) and it is published today. It’s the fourth book in a series set during the Peninsular War. I don’t know much about war and I’ve never thought it made much sense when you can eat or sleep instead, but people seem to like these books. However the crucial thing about book four is that she’s finally come to her senses and introduced a dog. It’s early days yet, but I think this one has the potential to be an important historical figure. He’s got a good military name and I think he’s going improve the lives of the main characters no end by scattering dog hairs all over their uniforms and leaving muddy paw prints all over the tent. I can’t wait. Although apparently a few other things happen in this book, like battles and whatnot…

Other than that, the only other excitement in life at the moment is regular visits to the vet. I had an operation a few weeks ago to get rid of an annoying lump on my foot and they’re all kicking off because I keep chewing off the dressings. I’m not sure what else they expected, those things are uncomfortable. This sock does seem to be a better solution so far and I must say I’m enjoying making a fashion statement. She’s got an endless selection of attractive socks for me to work my way through.

I’m signing off now. They’re cooking brunch and I’m hoping to cadge a bit of bacon if there’s any going but don’t worry I’ll be back soon on Blogging with Labradors with more musings on life with labradors…

Toby

31st August 201710th October 2017

The Historical novels of Lynn Bryant so far – finding the links…

In the historical novels of Lynn Bryant so far, those of you have read all of them will have realised that most of them are linked in some way. I thought I’d provide a short guide to finding the links.

I’ve always enjoyed a good series of books, which is what led me to starting the Peninsular War saga. But I also like to discover connections between characters in other books which I might not have expected.

I’ve had messages from a lot of people working their way through the novels asking about sequels. To be completely honest, when I started out I’d written the first four books in the Peninsular War saga and three standalone historical novels. Chatting to readers online, however, quickly made me realise two things. Firstly that other people love connections and sequels as much as I do and secondly, that there were so many common themes and links in my books that it was very easy to introduce my characters to one another. With the exception of A Marcher Lord which is sixteenth century, all my books so far are set in the nineteenth century, a lot of them during the Regency and the time of the Napoleonic Wars. All of them feature connections with the army, either a soldier or an ex-soldier. More than one of my characters came from Leicestershire or Yorkshire.

Out of that came the idea that I could very easily link my books together, creating a historical world within the wider, real historical period. It required very little effort to change a regiment. Some of the links fell into place completely by accident. I’d given the same surname to Kit, a soldier of the Victorian era and Gervase Clevedon, one of the minor characters in the Peninsular books, but when I realised that Kit had inherited from an uncle, I quickly worked out that Gervase could very easily have been that uncle. Other connections were created deliberately. Before I published The Reluctant Debutante, I was well aware that Giles Fenwick had started his army career in my fictional regiment the 110th.

I’m enjoying my little world. In addition to adding interest for my readers, it gives me a wealth of new ideas for books and characters. A minor character in one book has the ability to become a major one in another. The downside is that depending on the order in which the books are published and read, there will be some spoilers although I will try to keep these to a minimum. We already know, for example, a few of the characters from the 110th who definitely survived Waterloo. On the other hand, we don’t know all of them…

For those who have only read one or two of the books, I thought I’d provide a guide to the characters and their connections which I’ll add to and repost as new books are published. I’ve listed the books here in chronological order rather than publication order.

A Marcher Lord

So far this one is a standalone novel.

An Unconventional Officer

The first in a series of around ten books set in a fictional regiment, the 110th infantry, during the early nineteenth century.

An Irregular Regiment

Direct sequel to an Unconventional Officer this follows the lives of officers, men and their women through the campaign season of 1810 – 11.

An Uncommon Campaign

Direct sequel to An Irregular Regiment this follows the 110th through 1812 and the battle of Fuentes d’Onoro.

A Redoubtable Citadel

Direct sequel to An Uncommon Campaign, to be published in September 2017 this follows the characters of Wellington’s army through the campaigns of 1813 as far as the storming of Badajoz and the push into Spain.

A Regrettable Reputation

A Regency romance following the story of Nicholas Witham. Like Giles, Nicholas sold out of the 110th after Waterloo. Nicholas appears for the first time in An Untrustworthy Army, book five in the series which is currently being written, along with his closest friend Simon Carlyon. Simon is the younger brother of a major character in An Unconventional Officer and I suspect we’ll be seeing more of Simon. There is also the opportunity in this book to see a little of the rest of Anne van Daan’s family, back home in Yorkshire. In addition there is a cameo appearance from the Earl of Rockcliffe.

The Reluctant Debutante

This is a Regency romance following the story of Giles Fenwick, Earl of Rockcliffe who was formerly a junior officer of the 110th and then one of Wellington’s exploring officers. He is first mentioned in An Irregular Regiment and will crop up from time to time throughout the Peninsular War saga. There are several mentions through the book of characters Giles has known from his war service whom you will have met in the other books.

A Respectable Woman

This is set in Victorian times. Kit Clevedon, the hero of this book, is the nephew of Gervase Clevedon from the Peninsular War series, and the officers Philippa meets in Africa are from the 110th.

An Engaging Campaigner

This book is currently being written and it’s a working title. It is the sequel to A Respectable Woman and tells the story of Kit and Philippa’s children.

In terms of chronology, there are a number of books in the series which will slot in to this list. I’ve been asked about sequels to most of the books by now, and I’d love to do it but I can’t say when. Sometimes a book just suggests itself.

For regular updates on this site including history, travel, book reviews and plenty of labradors (and a few freebies thrown in) please join the e-mail list here.

26th August 201710th October 2017

Writing with Labradors Updates

An Unconventional Officer - love and war in Wellington’s army

Writing with Labradors updates

DSC_4238.jpg

Writing with labradors has undergone a few changes this week which will hopefully make the site easier to follow.

One new feature is the freebies page which now includes the first chapter of all seven published books. It also includes the first chapter of book 4 of the Peninsular War Saga. A Redoubtable Citadel comes out next month and takes Paul van Daan and the 110th through the horror of Ciudad Rodrigo Badajoz and puts Anne in the worst peril of her adventurous life. Read chapter one here.

A Redoubtable Citadel

In addition to the sample chapters, I intend to upload a few other freebies as I go along so watch this space for more Writing with Labradors updates and improvements.

I’m also intending to introduce a separate travel section for those of you who are interested in history and might be considering visiting some of the areas depicted in the books.

Thanks to all of you who are following both this site and the Facebook page, reading the books and taking the time to review and rate them on Amazon and Goodreads.

If you want regular updates, articles and information on history, travel, book reviews and a few freebies thrown in, you can now join the e-mail list here.

DSC_4232.jpg

31st July 201731st July 2019

Black Tot Day

Black Tot Day is something I’d never heard of until I did some research on army rations during the Peninsular War. It was one of those sessions where I went to have a quick look on Google to make sure my memory was correct on something and forty five minutes later I found myself still immersed in Royal Navy history.

Forty nine years ago today, Black Tot Day was the last day on which the Royal Navy issued sailors with a daily rum ration, which was known as the daily tot. The move was not popular with the ratings despite an extra can of beer being added to the daily rations. On July 31 in 1970 the final tot was poured as usual at 11am after the pipe of “Up Spirits”. Some sailors wore black armbands, others went through a ceremony of ‘burying at sea’ their tot of rum while at HMS Collingwood, the navy training camp in Hampshire, they held a mock funeral procession complete with black coffin and accompanied by drummers and piper.

The daily tot was a long-standing naval tradition. In the seventeenth century English sailors were allocated a gallon of beer a day but there was a problem with storing so much liquid aboard ships. In 1655, therefore, sailors were offered a half pint of rum instead and rum quickly became the drink of choice. Due to increasing problems with drunkenness on ships the ration was set in naval regulations in 1740 so that the rum was mixed with water on a 4:1 ratio and split into two servings per day.

There were ongoing disciplinary problems in the navy which led to the tot being halved to a quarter pint in 1824. In 1850 an Admiralty committee, delightfully known as the “Grog Committee” recommended that the daily tot be abandoned but the navy resisted, simply halving it again to an eighth of a pint a day to be served only in the morning. The ration was withdrawn from officers in 1881 and warrant officers in 1918.

In the 1960s questions were asked in Parliament about the continuing practice. The navy had changed and the Admiralty finally issued the following written statement:

“The Admiralty Board concludes that the rum issue is no longer compatible with the high standards of efficiency required now that the individual’s tasks in ships are concerned with complex, and often delicate, machinery and systems on the correct functioning of which people’s lives may depend”.

A debate in the Commons followed and it was decided that the rum ration should be withdrawn. This historic event was marked by a stamp issue available from Portsmouth General Post Office, with the slogan “Last Issue of Rum to the Royal Navy 31 July 1970”. Black Tot Day arrived and the navy mourned the death of one of it’s traditions.

Alcohol was also issued to serving soldiers in the army. Part of the daily ration during the Peninsular War was listed 5 pints Small Beer, or 1 pint Wine, or ½ pint Spirits. Women who were officially on strength were issued with half rations but no alcohol. As with the navy, drunkenness was very common in the army and was responsible for a breakdown in discipline on many occasions.

One of the most shocking of these was the sacking of Badajoz in 1812 when the British army ran wild in the town for three days, ignoring all orders and looting, murdering and raping at will. A big part of this horrific incident was probably due to drunkenness as the wine shops and cellars of the town were the first to be looted. When some officers tipped over the wine pipes in an attempt to limit their soldiers drinking, the men lay down in the street and drank the wine from the gutters.

The ending of alcohol being issued to the army seems less well documented than Black Tot Day and less formalised. There was still a regular issue during world war one but as far as I can discover the custom seems to have petered out rather than being subject to a formal parliamentary debate, although if anybody knows differently, do let me know because I’m curious.

These days there is something faintly shocking about the fact that the British army and navy encouraged alcohol use to such a degree but in past times it would not have been seen as a bad thing providing it did not affect their ability to do their duty. Writing about these times, I am aware that beer and wine were often safer to drink than polluted water and heavy drinking was common in civilian life as well. Doctors and surgeons used alcohol as a painkiller and sleep aid as well as an anaesthetic and had no notion that it was a bad idea.

Personally I think that a tot of rum at 11am every day would send me to sleep for the rest of the day but there is no doubt that back in 1970 a lot of ratings would have echoed Captain Jack Sparrow’s horrified question…

“Why’s the rum gone?”