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Hunter, Hero, and Friend
The British Soldier's Dog in the Napoleonic Wars

London's Volunteer Corps with a jolly Newfoundland Dog running at their feet (published 1799)
London's Volunteer Corps with a jolly Newfoundland Dog running at their feet (published 1799) 

STORIES OF OFFICER'S AND COMMON SOLDIER'S DOGS CAN BE FOUND THROUGHOUT THE NAPOLEONIC WARS.  Man's best friend played many roles including those of hunter and provider of food on campaign, entertainer and distracter from the stresses of war, savior in times of peril and a loyal friend.  Pointers, terriers, harriers, poodles, pugs, hounds, lurchers, newfoundlanders, spaniels, and mongrels all went to war with the British soldier.  Here are some of their stories.

The Duke of Wellington's Hounds

Fox hunting was the Duke of Wellington's outlet for the stresses of commanding the British army in Spain and Portugal. He maintained a pack of fox hounds throughout his service on the Iberian peninsula. Noted one officer:

"Lord Wellington's fox-hounds were unkennelled; and he himself took the field regularly twice a week, as if he had been a denizen of Leicestershire... I need not add, that few packs, in any country, could be better attended... When the hounds were out, he was no longer the commander of the forces, the General in Chief of three nations, and the representative of three sovereigns; but the gay, merry, country gentleman, who rode at every thing, and laughed as loud when he fell himself, as when he witnessed the fall of a brother sportsman."

One officer on a hunt with Wellington admired the commander in chief's determination in the hunt: "The fox... took to ground, under a rock, from whence the Duke, with his long hunting-whip and a terrier dog, tried ineffectually to dislodge him."  Thankfully the Duke was armed with just a whip, for he was a terrible shot. While hunting once after the war, Wellington with his shotgun managed to hit one of the hounds with friendly fire, pepper the gaiters of a warden, and wound the arm of an old lady.

"In the Cry" Fox hunting in 1813 Duke of Wellington.
"In the Cry" Fox hunting in 1813.

    Other officers had access to his fox hounds but most of the Army had poor mounts and could not partake in the hunt. The importance of his hounds to Wellington shows up in his orders to his Generals warning them not to forget the pack when the army was on the march.    One hungry soldier of the 71st Regiment of Foot experienced a different advantage from the Duke's dog pack: "We were sent to break biscuit, and make a mess for Lord Wellington's hounds. I was very hungry, and thought it a good job at the time, as we got our own fill, while we broke the biscuit - a thing I had not got for some  days."

    Wellington did complain of the lack of a pack of harriers to provide rabbit for the officer mess.  This deficiency was made up somewhat by other officers who had speedy greyhounds to run down the hares. A 95th Rifle officer's prized Spanish greyhound, named Moro, along with his two other hounds "supplied the officer's mess of every Company with hares for soup."

The celebrated English coursing (racing) Greyhound Snowdrop  (published 1807)
The celebrated English coursing (racing) Greyhound Snowdrop  (published 1807)  

    The Duke of Wellington also owned a greyhound and Moro came close to racing against him, but the war cancelled the event.  There was a long standing argument in the army of which was faster an English or a Spanish greyhound.  The 95th Rifle officer clearly thought his beloved Moro was the fastest in the Army. Other officers attempted do lay the issue to rest with a race in October 1812:

"a large coursing party went out on the plains near Guinaldo...A capital hare was found, and she went away for a mile or two over as fine a country for coursing as is any where to be found, before two English greyhounds, which had lately been sent out to the 43rd regiment, and a Spanish greyhound, considered excellent.  The hare was killed by the English dogs, which were so exhausted by the heat of the day and the severity of the course, that on e them died immediately, and the other was saved with great difficulty by bleeding.  The Spanish dog came up very contentedly a long whicle after the hard and greyhound were dead. The heat had not affected him, because he was accustomed to the climate; and, moreofer, he took particular care not to distress himself by an over-display of zeal."

Two greyhounds coursing after a hare (by John Wray Snow, 1837)
Two greyhounds coursing after a hare (by John Wray Snow, 1837)

At least one soldier's family had greyhounds and their use as rabbit hunters was of great advantage.  However these hunters turned into heroes in February 1814.  While crossing a river, the soldier's wife slipped into deep water along with her greyhounds on a rope leach.  She would have perished, if she had not been dragged ashore by her dogs.

Spaniel and Master Ambushed Near New Orleans

        Young 17-year-old Ensign Robert Gleig of the 85th Light Infantry set off for the Peninsular war in 1813 with a nine-month-old spaniel pup in his possession.  She was his loyal little companion and went with him everywhere, "even in battle."  While Gleig was very fond of his Spaniel, he noted a dog had practical advantages: "A well-trained dog is no bad help-mate to an officer who has charge of an out-post; indeed, I was never greatly alarmed, notwithstanding the communications of my videttes, unless my little four-footed patrol confirmed their statements.  If she barked or growled, then I felt assured that something dangerous was near; if she continued quiet, I was comparatively easy."  His spaniel also served as a retriever when Gleig went fowling.

A black and white spaniel (published 1800)
A black and white spaniel (published 1800)

    As war ended in Europe, Gleig's regiment was transferred to fighting in North America.  After his regiment landed and encamped during the siege of New Orleans, the Americans counterattacked that night.  In the confusing nocturnal struggle in which the Americans were forced back, Gleig's spaniel never left his side.  A few days later, Gleig was doing his rounds checking outposts at an hour after midnight.  As always his faithful spaniel was trotting a few paces in front of him:

suddenly stopped short at the edge of the thicket and began to bark violently, and great apparent anger. I knew the animal well enough to be aware, that some cause must exist for such conduct; and I too stopped short... at the instant of my halting, about a half-a-dozen muskets were discharged from the copse, the muzzle of which, had I taken five steps forward, musket have touched my body.  The balls whizzed harmlessly past my head..."

Gleig returned fire with the pistol and charged into the woods with his sabre, but his assailants had fled.  The spaniel had fouled the ambush and saved her master's life.

Pugs and Poodles on the Peninsula

     The French attack came as a complete surprise and one of the most determined in the Peninsular War.  The wives and followers of the army were caught completely off guard and had to move fast.  In the turmoil, fifteen-year-old Lady Juana Smith was separated from her thoroughbred pug Vittoria.  Named after the famous 1813 battle, it was soon shortened to Vitty and was easily recognizable by her extraordinary collar of bells. Vitty had become a celebrity in the Division, being universally known and liked.  Juana's husband, Captain Harry Smith described the pug as "the most sensible brute Nature ever produced."  Alone in the French artillery bombardment, Vitty was recognized by young bugler of the 52nd Light Infantry who snatched him up and stuck him in his haversack.  For the rest of the brisk engagement, Vitty remained snuggly stowed.  After the attack and the counterattack, Vittoria was returned to the hardy and equally popular Lady Smith.

Portrait of Sylvie de la Rue with her pug in 1806 by Francis van der Donckt
Portrait of Sylvie de la Rue with her pug in 1806 by Francis van der Donckt

     Poodles were popular companions of French and Spanish soldiers and their fierce loyalty to their masters had gained them respect from the British.  A Spanish Officer was killed at the Battle of Talavera in 1809 and his large poodle faithfully laid on his grave and refused food.  On hearing of the dog, General Thomas Graham sent his servant to bring the animal to his  quarters.  However the servant returned empty handed because the dog would not let him come near.  The General ordered him to take as many soldiers as needed to accomplish the task.   Named Muchuch, the dog spent part of the war with the General. 

     Later the poodle was sent to the General's friend in Edinburgh, Scotland.  With part of his ear shot off in battle, Muchuch became both a family and garrison favorite.  When the cannons of Edinburgh Castle were fired "Muchuch got into a great excitement, the house door was opened and ran direct to the Castle and straight to the battery among men. After a while he was regularly expected on such and welcomed and made much of by the soldiers."  When the garrison heard of the past service of Muchuch, the Edinburgh Castle guard turned out to salute with "present arms" when the "old hero" poodle came to visit.

Sancho the poodle at the Battle of Salamanca. The message in his mouth says "For my owner" in Spanish. (pub. 1813)
Sancho the poodle at the Battle of Salamanca. The message in his mouth says "For my owner" in Spanish. (pub. 1813)

     Soldiers of one regiment departing for Portugal took a passing notice of a rough-looking poodle.  Nothing was made of it until the same poodle appeared while the regiment pressed the French's retreat out of Portugal in 1811.  Clearly the poodle had somehow made it on board ship and was still following them.  First he was called "the poor relation" because he had no owner, but the soldiers soon settled on the name Jack.   Jack was dirty brown with long twisted ringlets of  hair matted together.  It was not his looks but his true heart of unshaken fidelity that earned Jack the admiration of the troops.  Some soldiers thought he owned by a French prisoner of war in Hilsea near Portsmouth, while others debated if he was of Dutch origin.  Such banter and deliberation "cheated many a march of its tedium."

    On the march, Jack posted himself the pioneers in the rear.  In quarters, he frequented the tailor's and shoemaker's shops helping the workers through the monotony of their tasks.  In camp Jack's home was a tent of the grenadiers. Yet "of all his eccentricities, and he had many, the most singular was his love of getting under fire; if the Light Infantry were engaged, Jack cocked his ears, away he went... on a line advancing, Jack was about fifty paces in front, barking and howling until his voice was lost in the general cheer or heavy fire."  At the battles of Salamanca, Nive, Neville, Orther and Toulouse, Jack led the attack.

     When Jack fell sick, the grenadiers took turns carrying him in a knapsack for three days of march.   When news came of Napoleon's abdication the whole army exploded into a joyous celebration.  All were merry except a solemn group of soldiers who dug a grave to lay to rest their favourite companion and true friend Jack.  

Court Martialing the Regiment's Dog

     Hector was an adorable Newfoundland dog, who with a wooden stick in his mouth would perform the musket drill with the rest of the regiment,  He even stood on his hind legs at attention.  His post in the ranks was behind the centre of the battalion but would vacate his spot and accompany commanding officer if an inspection of the troops was deemed necessary. Mimicking the commander, Hector "stopped when he stopped, moved when he moved, looked when he looked."  When the regiment's colonel would approach him, the big Newfoundlander, Hector would stand on his hind legs and salute with his right paw.

     However like soldiers, Hector could get himself into trouble.  When he visited the "queen of the Regiment" the drum-major's wife, she would give him some alcohol which he was quite fond of.  When intoxicated, Hector was "a good-humoured jovial fellow" happy to dance a jig, but also played a number of tricks on the men.  One time Hector snatched the soldier's trousers drying on a clothes line and muddied them.   The only solution for such insubordination was to call a regimental court martial.    Hector was found guilty of his crimes and was denied his Sunday dinner, and was to be shunned by the soldier he liked the most in the regiment.

A Newfoundland Dog saving a boy. (pub. 1803) They were common on ships and saved many who fell overboard. One was secreted aboard a transport with the troops only to fall later from a musket ball during the Battle of Corunna.
A Newfoundland Dog saving a boy. (pub. 1803) They were common on ships and saved many who fell overboard. One was secreted aboard a transport with the troops only to fall later from a musket ball during the Battle of Corunna.

    While Hector was far from a disruptive influence on parade, the presence of most dogs was discouraged.  In 1806 at Gibraltar, officer and soldier dogs had become such a nuisance at parade that the garrison commander threatened to "put in force the old Garrison orders of hanging them."  Clearly this threat was ignored, and a month later the General commanding ordered "all dogs on the Grand Parade at Guard Mounting or when a Regiment is there will in future be hanged agreeable to the old standing orders".  It is unknown if any dogs were executed.

Dogs on Loyal Volunteers parade ground. (published 1803)
Dogs on Loyal Volunteers parade ground. (published 1803)

    Killing a dog that a regiment was fond of was a very dangerous thing.  One dog, a lurcher, followed the 1st Dragoon Guards from England to Belgium in 1815.  Though having no particular owner, he became a favorite among the men.  At the Battle of Waterloo he charged uniformly with the front of the cavalry regiment and after the battle returned to his usual spot of beside the fire of the regiment's main guard. The dog ran down rabbits and carried them home to the men who fed him.  While the 1st Dragoon Guards were stationed in suburbs of Paris after Waterloo, the lurcher was shot by some French park-keepers for poaching in their rabbit burrow. The troopers were enraged by the murder of their four-legged comrade and sought revenge.  Somehow they found out who had pulled the trigger and the man was surrounded on the street and beaten to an inch of his life.  If not for the quick thinking of another British soldier passing by, who convinced the troopers they had the wrong man, the Frenchman would have been killed.

    1st (King's) Dragoon Guards fighting French Dragoons, 1815
1st (King's) Dragoon Guards fighting French Dragoons, 1815 (Royal Coll.)

Common Dogs for Common Soldiers?

     Reading historic regulations is tricky.  For example, in 1812, the 29th Regiment of Foot ordered "no loose or disorderly women ever to be admitted into the barracks, nor dogs, fowls, pigeons, &c. &c. which may interfere with the cleanliness of the men's rooms."  Another example is the 71st Light Infantry in 1809 who decreed "no dogs, or animals that can tend to litter the rooms, to be ever permitted to enter them."  Yet a third regiment, the 62nd in 1813 stated: "Dogs, cats, poultry, or any animal that might cause filth, are positively prohibited being kept in the rooms."    From this one may be left with the impression dogs were not allowed in barracks but this is a deception.  Yes, barracks regulations positively stated dogs are not allowed but the regiments enforced those rules.  The qualifiers of "which may interfere", "can tend to", and "might cause" are significant.  If the dog did not "cause filth" that animal would be tolerated.  The proliferation of four-legged friends at Gibraltar show dogs in barracks were allowed unless that dog was disruptive or were not house-trained.

Dog in an English Barracks, 1788 (by Thomas Rowlandson)
Dog in an English Barracks, 1788 (by Thomas Rowlandson)

     Feral dogs that had no owner but followed the regiment may not make it into the barracks rooms but the fireside of the Guardhouse may provide a friendly home.  One of the fires in an encampment was receptive to a dog's companionship.  If not with the soldiers, their families or sutlers of the army would provided opportunities for food and acceptance.  One dog at a St. Giles public house in London named Towser famously licked the plates clean for the next customer.  A crafty sutler could use an obliging dog to speed the clean up after a hectic day of providing better delights than a soldier's daily rations.

Dog licking plates at a sutler's tent by William Henry Pyne. (pub. 1797)
Dog licking plates at a sutler's tent by William Henry Pyne. (pub. 1797) 

     Some wild dogs showed no inclination to domesticate and only sought opportunity to survive.  For example, at one instance a soldier's musket exploded taking away part of his hand.  A dog ran away with one of his fingers. Packs of dogs could be very disruptive.  While in South Africa in 1806, the 78th Highlanders were out on the parade drilling.  Suddenly a flock of ostriches came stampeding across the parade pursued by barking dogs.  On a collision course with the regiment, the massive birds knocked to the ground a section of soldiers and left them stunned in the dust.

     These incidents aside, soldiers were naturally fond of dogs. One officer attributed it to "the very strange coincidence of their following them from town to town.  Many a hoary dog has deserted his parental home; many a young puppy has flown from a severe mistress to follow the soldiers."   Soldiers were always strangers in the next town. Yet the dogs following them offered soldiers a line of continuity and familiarity.

British soldier's dog with a Recruiting Party (published in 1798)
British soldier's dog with a Recruiting Party (published in 1798)

     The final story captures how profound the relationship between the common soldier and his faithful dog could be.  One night an 87th Regiment officer was doing his rounds close to the enemy to make sure the sentries were alert and challenging anyone coming close to their posts.  They were facing the much feared Nepalese Gurkhas who could attack at anytime.  When a sentry responded with a barely audible challenge, the officer moved to reprimand the sentry for not being louder. In his defense, the soldier explained that he did not want to disturb his dog who was sleeping under a nearby bush.  The soldier went on to say that they shared the duty of sentry and his dog had just finished his round noting the dog would:

"stand his hour and walk his round; that in very dark nights, he would even put his ear to the ground, and listen; and that during the period assigned to him as his turn to watch, he would never venture to lie down, but would steadily and slowly walk his round, which nothing could induce him to leave, such was his opinion of the nautre and responsibility of his post."

While his faithful dog stood sentry, his master would nap. Sleeping on sentry in a war zone was a shooting offence but the soldier was confident his dog would perform his duty well.

    The soldier's dog was a powerful, furry-eared Persian greyhound. Once an East India Company officer was given the hound and took him away a distance of over four hundred miles to his new home. Upon being let out, the greyhound took flight back towards his original master. Two and half days later, the soldier awoke at the Main guard with the dog licking his face.  Another time, the private had gotten drunk and passed out under a bush. When he awoke, the soldier discovered he had been dragged more than three yards out of the undercover and near him was large snake torn to pieces. His faithful greyhound had saved his life.

Soldiers on the March with a dog, 1811 (by Thomas Rowlandson)
Soldiers on the March with a dog, 1811 (by Thomas Rowlandson)

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Select Bibliography

---- A Soldier of the Seventy-First Regiment Highland Light Infantry from 1806 to 1815. 3rd Edition (Edinburgh, 1822).
---- Standing Orders of His Majesty's 29th, or Worchestershire Regiment of Foot. (London, 1812).
---- Standing Orders of the 2nd Battalion of the 62nd, or Wiltshire Regiment. (Cork, 1813).
---- Standing Orders of the Seventy-First Highland and Glasgow Regiment of Light Infantry of the Line. (London, 1809).
---- "Order Book of the 10th Regiment of Foot" [Gibraltar, 1806]. LAC, MG 23 GIII 23. Vol. 4.
---- Barracks Regulations, December 5, 1807. PRO WO 26/40.
---- The Sporting Magazine. Vol. 30. (London, 1808)
---- The Sporting Magazine, Vol. 9 Second Series [Vol. 81] (London, 1834).
Mrs. Fitzmaurice, Recollections of a Rifleman's Wife at Home and Abroad. (London, 1851).
Robert Gleig, The Light Dragoon. (London, 1851)
Robert Gleig, The Subaltern. (London, 1825)
Robert Gleig, A Narrative of the Campaigns of the British Army at Washington and New Orleans. 2nd Edition (London, 1826).
John Green, The Vicissitudes of a Soldier's Life. (Louth, 1827).
John Gurwood, The Dispatches of Field Marshal The Duke of Wellington. (London, 1838).
Roderick Innes, The Life of Roderick Innes, Lately of H.M. Seventy-Eighth Regiment (Stonehaven, 1844).
George R. Jesse, Researches into the History of the British Dog.  (London, 1866).
J. Leach, Rough Sketches of the Life of an Old Soldier. (London, 1831).
John Shipp, The Military Bijou or The Contents of a Soldier's Knapsack. Vol. 1-2 (London, 1831).
John Shipp, Memoirs of the Extraordinary Military Career of John Shipp. 2nd Edition Vol. 2 (London, 1830).
Moore Smith ed., The Autobiography of Lieutenant-General Sir Harry Smith. (London, 1903).

 Author Robert Henderson enjoys unearthing and telling stories of military valour, heritage, and sacrifice from across the globe. Lest we forget.


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