THE NORFOLKS ("The Holy Boys")

"Our country will, I believe, sooner forgive an officer for attacking his enemy, than for omitting to do it….

"A Norfolk man is as good as two others."—Nelson.

Of the Norfolk Regiment, then known as the 9th (East Norfolk) Regiment, Napier said, with a happy mixture of blame and praise: "They were guilty of a fierce neglect of orders in taking a path leading immediately to the enemy." Indeed, that is exactly what they did at the battle of Roliça on the 17th August, 1808. Their intrepidity and fine carelessness in regard to their lives were on that day the subject of unstinted praise on the part of the whole French army, who, in those times it must be remembered, were our enemies. A brief description of the battle will show the stern stuff that the Norfolks are made of.

The enemy, under Laborde, held a very strong position, and it was Wellington's object to drive them from it at the earliest opportunity. The Norfolks, under Brigadier Nightingale, came up with Wellington's army from Obidos, three columns strong. The 9th occupied the position in the centre, which fronted the enemy in possession of a natural fortress of gigantic crags, looming steep and forbidding against the sky. The only way of ascent was by means of some zigzag tracks, which, at many points, were open to the enemy's fire.

Under these conditions, it would have been possible for our men to proceed by halt and rush, with a slow but sure caution; but the Norfolks, flinging all caution to the winds, hurled themselves forward to get at the enemy as quickly as possible. They swarmed up the heights, giving the foe a hot example of their musketry fire as they swung forward. It is said that their exploit was in full view of both armies as the smoke of their firing marked their passage from crag to crag. The rapidity of their advance was so great that the other regiments of the central column were left far behind. Laborde, taking advantage of their prominent position, proceeded to throw the greater part of his army against them, thinking to wipe them out before they could receive support. This was partially successful, for the enemy's fierce onslaught bore the 2nd battalion back. Fiercely; the Norfolks contested every inch of the way, and it was a wonder of wonders that they lost so little ground against overwhelming odds before the 1st battalion came to their assistance. Then, with scarce a breathing space, they re-formed their ranks, and, with a hearty British cheer, swept forward and upward again.

That heroic and dashing encounter, in which the battle was to the swift—for it will be remembered that they had outstripped the rest of the army—is one that can never be forgotten in the annals of our history. Slowly, point by point, they gained the advantage, and finally drove the enemy from the summit. But, having taken the position, they had to hold it again and again against the furious efforts of the enemy to dislodge them. The reckless dash of their ascent could only be equalled by the stubborn resistance with which they held on, and, time after time, Laborde's battalions were driven back. Finally, the Northumberland Fusiliers came to their assistance, and the enemy was forced to retire. This was a victory set upon a hill, and, in the same spirit in which it was witnessed that day by thousands of opposing forces, so it is for ever pictured in our minds. With the battle of Roliça in their traditions, the Norfolk Regiment, as we write, are no doubt adding to the list of their brilliant achievements.

In this battle a memorable act of heroism glorifies a page of history—a page written in the Norfolk blood of Sergeant-Major Richards. At the time when our skirmishers advanced rapidly, and the echo of their quick musketry fire hung reverberating in the ravine and hollow as they ran from cover to cover, two companies crept up two separate passes among the rocks and debouched upon the summit of the ridge. The foremost of the 9th, on emerging two or three at a time from their narrow passage, were ambushed by the enemy. Blake, their brave Colonel, was killed, and many of his men fell around him. When the ambuscade rushed forth to grips, Sergeant-Major Richards, though riddled with lead, and bleeding from a dozen bayonet wounds, stood over his beloved commander and fought to the death. This brave fellow, than whom there was never a braver, said, as he was dying, "I should not have cared so much if only our Colonel had been spared." In those few words, at such a moment, breathed the true spirit of the Norfolks, and that glorious simplicity of thought and singleness of eye—fine, grand, unconsciously sublime—runs through every line of our great Book of Battles. We are not glad that our enemy of to-day has not written such a book, nor do we trouble to wish he had: the fact is fixed that he has not. Indeed, he had never the material for such a book, for it is obvious that the same barbarous hand that struck out an innocent Louvain could not insert such an anachronism as the heroic death and noble sentiment of a Sergeant-Major Richards of the Norfolks.

But Roliça, although the most prominent of their honours, is only one among many that have been set to their credit. They have more than once been in a position of extreme peril. When Ruffin's brigade at Barrosa realised that the Norfolks were cut off through an error on the part of our Spanish Allies, they turned the whole fury of their overwhelming odds upon that single regiment. Then it was a case of fighting, and dying, back to back. All fought like heroes, and, like heroes, most of them died. It was only when Brigadier Dilkes came to their assistance that the few survivors were extricated from their hazardous position. Needless to say, the handful that remained joined at once with Dilkes' column, and assaulted the enemy's heights. A grim battle ensued, and at length a brilliant victory was gained.

In the history of the Norfolks is written one of the saddest incidents in the annals of our arms. It was they who, at Corunna, at dead of night, buried Sir John Moore, under the shadow of disaster—a sorrowful ending to an adverse passage which, although it concealed a marvellous achievement, few of us care to linger upon in days when victory is before us, and all thoughts of defeat forgotten.

At Fuentes d'Onoro, a description of which battle will be found in another chapter, the Norfolks, in company with many other regiments of our present expeditionary force, fought with all their customary vim; and at Salamanca their assault on the enemy was as if they had been let go from a catapult. At a time when they were fully 500 yards in front of our main body of troops, Wellington saw the chance of making use of them to capture a particular post held by the enemy. He sent his aide-de-camp scouring up to them with the hurried message: "Ninth! you are the only regiment ready; advance!" They required no further indication to grasp what was to be done; in fact, they would probably have done it in the natural course of events, without the order; they charged on, and at the point of the irresistible bayonet the post was taken.

Many a forlorn hope has been led by the Norfolks. One that remains indelibly stamped on our memory is that at San Sebastian, headed by a Scots lad, named Campbell. This poor fellow was terribly wounded in the first onslaught, receiving a bayonet thrust, and a heavy sabre gash. The young hero was not to die of his wounds however. Very much on the contrary, he lived to become Sir Colin Campbell, Commander-in-Chief in India; and, for his splendid services in suppressing the Indian Mutiny was created Baron Clyde.

Having come through many terrible fights with honour and glory, and without a stain, it is naturally the great regret of this famous regiment that they were not at present at Waterloo. But, though absent from our greatest field of victory, they were doing good work at the time in Canada. Yet it has come to their share in these days to reap honours in fields not far from Waterloo, and we live to learn that, in the deeds of to-day, and to-morrow, a Norfolk man is indeed as good as at least two Germans.

THEIR BADGE AND BATTLE HONOURS, ETC.

Badge.—The figure of Britannia.

Battle Honours.—Roliça, Vimiera, Corunna, Busaco, Salamanca, Vittoria, St. Sebastian, Nive, Peninsula, Cabool 1842, Moodkee, Ferozeshah, Sobraon, Sevastopol, Kabul 1879, Afghanistan 1870-80, S. Africa 1900-02, Paardeberg.

Uniform.—Regular and Reserve Battns., scarlet with yellow facings.

[Raised in 1685. Received the title "East Norfolk Regiment" in 1782, and became the Norfolk Regiment in 1881. The badge of the figure of Britannia was bestowed on the regiment in recognition of its gallantry at the battle of Almanza (1707). This regiment was the last of the British forces to embark at Corunna (1809), and was entrusted with the burial of Sir John Moore, in memory of which event the officers of the regiment wear a black line in their lace.]