Orders, Decorations and Medals

An emotive Peninsular War Medal awarded to General J. H. Bainbrigge, 20th Regiment, who, having had charge of the Regimental Colours as a 17 year old Ensign in the retreat to Corunna, was seriously wounded near Pampeluna on 28 July 1813, as a result of which his left arm had to be amputated two weeks later - his extensive and colourful account of his experiences in the battles of the Pyrenees was subsequently published in the regimental history

Military General Service 1793-1814, 4 clasps, Vimiera, Corunna, Vittoria, Pyrenees (John Bainbrigge, Lieut., 20th Foot) original riband and buckle as worn, good very fine £3000-3500

John Hankey Bainbrigge was born in July 1791, the younger son of Colonel Philip Bainbrigge - who was mortally wounded at the head of the 20th Foot at Egmont-op-Zee in October 1799 - and was appointed an Ensign in his father’s old regiment in March 1808. Quickly seeing action at Vimiera, aged 17 years, and in the retreat to Corunna, when he had charge of the regiment’s Colours in the rear-guard, he was advanced to Lieutenant in April 1809 on his return to the U.K.

Back in the Peninsula in time to see further action at Vittoria and in the Pyrenees, he was seriously wounded in the engagement at Sauroren, near Pampeluna on 28 July 1813, as a result of which his left arm had to be amputated two weeks later. Luckily for posterity’s sake, Bainbrigge wrote an account of his experiences in these operations at the request of his children some 40 years later, a colourful and entertaining account that was published in Smyth’s History of the XX Regiment (London, 1889 - see appendices for General Bainbrigge’s Narrative of Roncesvalles and Sauroren), and from which the following extracts have been taken:

‘The French army had been newly clothed and appointed since the battle of Vittoria, and though their greatcoats were worn over their uniforms, they nevertheless made a splendid appearance. Their columns swept down the valley at a rapid pace, exposed to a sharp fire from the 7th Portuguese Cacadores, under Lieutenant-Colonel O’Toole. This was an exciting time, one which I shall not readily forget. Thoughtless, no doubt, as young men normally are, yet I could not repress the idea that this day might prove my last on earth, and when the whizzing of passing bullets became more frequent, I think I fully made up my mind to be hit ... The Colonel pointed to a chapel on the hill side overlooking Sauroren; we formed into sub-divisions of companies, right in front, and closed up to half distance. Just as I expected to be ordered to halt my company, for the regiment to deploy in line, Lieutenant-Colonerl Wauchope desired me to file off the Grenadiers to the right, saying, “You will enter the wood, and do your best to check the advance of the enemy’s column now entering it from the other side of the valley.” In giving this order to me, I have always thought the Colonel committed an error; the regiment could ill-afford to spare its best company, though reduced in numbers by its exertions and losses on the 25th. On arriving at the edge of the wood, I passed through the line of our Light Company, telling Lieutenant Fitzgerald that I had instructions to proceed on and feel for the enemy. When half way down the hill, I first met the French advance party. I fancied they were taken by surprise, but soon perceived that I had to contend with old soldiers who knew their work thoroughly. We at once commenced firing, and I retired slowly up the hill, inclining to my right, files a little extended and defending every stone and tree; the enemy stretched out to his right and left, and increasing rapidly in numbers, were turning both my flanks. About this time I brought down one of the enemy myself; observing him stationed in a bush very close to me, I took a musket from the man next to me, aimed deliberately and fired; he disappeared, and I saw no more of him. I doubt whether these men were Tirailleurs, though they were acting as light infantry, for the one I fired at wore a bearskin cap, like Guards; they were some of the finest looking soldiers I ever saw. However, we still presented a bold front as we retired slowly upwards. On reaching the edge of the woods we found to our great joy not an enemy, but a strong detachment belonging to Major-General Byng’s Brigade. Here I rallied the men, and, being well together, I determined on advancing again without communicating with the supporting detachment. The enemy fell back before us ... ’

‘Shortly after this advance, I received a musket shot through the elbow of my left arm and another ball struck me in the side, lodging in my back. It is possible the same bullet did all the mischief, as both wounds were received at the same time. I continued with my men as long as I was able to stand, when, becoming faint from loss of blood, I gave over command of the company to a Sergeant; and a Corporal assisted me to the rear and placed me under the first bit of rising ground we came to, where I was sheltered from the enemy’s fire ... I lay for a considerable time on the spot to which I had been removed until a Portuguese medical officer, attached to the Commissariat, came accidentally to the same place. He was mounted on a pony and pitying my forlorn situation assented to the request that he should accompany me to the village in our rear; this kind-hearted man helped me to get into the saddle, and, leading the way, took me to the town of Villalba. I had no difficulty in procuring a quarter, the inhabitants having fled in terror, abandoning their homes for fear of a sortie from the garrison of Pampeluna. Several medical officers had established themselves in the place, and were examining and dressing the wounds of such as arrived there from the field of battle. I took possession of a room with a nice bed in it; and at night Major-General Ross came to see me. With his usual liberality, he threw his purse on the bed, desiring that I should take what money I required. This was the last time I had the happiness of seeing my much esteemed General, an officer beloved by every soldier who served under him ... Sir Philip Bainbrigge, my brother, who was in the Quarter-Master General’s Department, joined Headquarters from a reconnaissance at the close of the action; on inquiry he learnt that I was wounded, and contrived to find me out in the course of the night. He urged my speedy removal from Villalba, because another battle might be fought next day, and sorties from the fortress of Pampeluna were frequent. He provided me with a horse to carry me to the bagge camp, which was two leagues on the other side of Pampeluna, and, as I said before, General Ross sent my servant from the regiment to take care of me. Weak and suffering as I was it would have been far pleasanter to remain where I lay, but the bare idea of risking being made a prisoner, in the event of a successful sortie, enabled me to make the exertion necessary, and in the morning I commenced the journey: my shattered arm tied up in a sash, amd my servant leading the horse. The bagge was reached in the course of the same day; but as there was no surgeon to examine my wounds, I decided on proceeding to Vittoria at once, which place I reached in five days more. At Vittoria I had the satisfaction of meeting the three officers of my own company who had been wounded a few days before me. We were lodged together in the same house. My arm, from some unaccountable reason, was not amputated until the 12 August; mortification had commenced, yet through the mercy of God, the skill and unremitting attention of Staff Surgeon Berry, and aided by a naturally vigorous constitution, I recovered. By the end of September, I was enabled to mount my horse and proceeded to Bilbao and embarked in October, on board a return transport for England. My wounds opened afresh on the voyage, which proved a most tempestuous one of five weeks. There happened to be no medical chest on board; and my attendant (a sailor lad) manufactured a sort of adhesive plaster, to prevent the stump of the shoulder from protruding. Thus terminated my connection with the XX Regiment and that glorious Peninsular Army.’

Awarded an annual pension of £100 for his wounds, and given the Brevet of Major in the 41st Foot, he shortly thereafter settled in Guernsey, where he was married in May 1819 and became Seigneur of Rohais Manor - he and his wife outlived all of their six children, Bainbrigge dying in March 1881, after having attained the rank of General on the Retired List in October 1877. In the interim, of course, he had received his Peninsular War Medal, about which honour he wrote in 1850:

‘Since that period our kind and considerate Queen (God bless her) has commanded a medal be struck with clasps to record the battles of the Peninsula. True it is that few of the old veterans survive to receive this long-wished-for mark of their Sovereign’s approval of past services; nevertheless, the justice of their claim to honourable distinction is at length conceded, and they are now, though diminished in numbers, enabled to meet their more fortunate comrades of Waterloo and India on terms of equality as regards military decorations. I have received four clasps, one Vimiera, two Corunna, three Vittoria, four Pyrenees, the only badges earned by the regiment during the period of my service; but, in my opinion, the regiment deserved an additional badge for Roncesvalles. It was specially mentioned in the published despatches, as having distinguished itself in defending the pass, and I repeat that the stubborn gallantry of Ross’ Brigade, more particularly the XX Regiment, in resisting the first impetuous attack, saved the army.’

Also see Lot 39 for the Crimea Medal awarded to one of his sons.