Only Thorncrofts were able to meet the Royal Navy’s tight specification for the CMB. This is the 55-foot version.

The CMB was conceived to attack enemy vessels in their own harbours. This was their finest moment—and their swan song.

The raid on the Russian naval base at Kronstadt on August 18, 1919, was the highlight, and the swan song, of Coastal Motor Boat (CMB) actions in World War 1. It demonstrated that boldly and skilfully handled CMBs could achieve a great deal, but opinion in the Royal Navy regarding their fighting value remained split. In the decade following the end of the war, they gradually disappeared from the navy.

The CMB was conceived in 1915 with the idea of having fast torpedo-carrying motor boats to attack enemy vessels in their own harbours. As they were intended to be carried in a cruiser’s davits to the scene of operations, their total weight was restricted to 41/2 tons. It was a tight specification, and only one firm, Thor­nycrofts, were able to meet it. They produced a 40-foot boat capable of 34knots, carrying an 18 in. torpedo in a trough at the stern. The torpedo was fired, tail first, by a cordite charge. The boat was aimed at the target, turning away immediately the torpedo was fired. High speed was necessary for the boat to get out of the way of the torpedo.

After some experience with the 40 ft. type, the Admiralty decided that a larger boat would be useful. A 55 ft. CMB carrying one or two torpedoes and four Lewis guns was designed. Too big to be carried in davits, they had to proceed to the scene of operations under their own power, or in tow for big distances.

The CMBs never achieved their main purpose — an attack on the High Seas Fleet anchorage. They did see some action off the Belgian coast and in the Dover Straits against German destroyers and patrol craft.

The Armistice of 1918 brought an end to fighting in Western Europe. But in the Baltic area, there was a complicated imbroglio going on. Britain and France were supporting the newly created Baltic states, Poland, Finland, Estonia and Lithuania against the Bolsheviks, as well as assisting the White Russian Army.

Rear Admiral Sir Walter Cowan had been sent to the Baltic early in 1919 to command a force of light cruisers and destroyers holding the Russian Fleet at Kronstadt in check. Against his 6in gun cruisers the Russians could muster the 12in. gun dreadnought Petropavlosk, the 12in. gun pre-dreadnought Andrei Pervosvanni, and the 8in. gun armoured cruiser Oleg. Luckily, they showed little initiative.

There were no CMBs attached initially to the British force. The first boats to arrive in the Baltic were CMBs Nos. 4 and 7. These two 40 ft. boats, under the command of Lieutenant Augustus Aga, R.N., were sent to carry out “courier” duties for the In­telligence Service, and did not come under Cowan’s command. Unarmed, their task was to ferry agents in and out of the Bolshevik-held territory. Their crews wore civilian clothes, but carried uniforms to don if in danger of capture.

Agar established a base at Terrioki, on the north shore of Petrograd Bay. From here the boats ran by night to a point near Petrograd to land or pick up their passengers. Lt. Agar was not a man to accept a passive role easily. Reporting his arrival to Rear Admiral Cowan at Biorko, he requested to be supplied with tor­pedoes. Cowan reluctantly agreed to supply these, on the understanding that if they were carried the boats would fly the White Ensign and the three-man crews would be in uniform. Two 18in. torpedoes then were sent to Terrioki.

There was some unrest in Kronstadt among the sailors who were generally unsympathetic to the Bolsheviks. At the beginning of June, Fort Krasnaya Gorka on the south shore of the bay revolted against the Bolsheviks. To bring the rebels to heel, the Petropavlosk and the Andrei Pervosvanni bombarded the fort. An­choring where the forts guns would not bear, they began to leisurely lob in 12in. shells.

Agar felt that if the fort could hold out it might induce the sailors in Kronstadt to rise. But how long could they stand this bombardment? Orders forbade the boats to take aggressive action. A signal to London explaining matters drew a reply to the effect that the boats were to be used for intelligence purposes only. However, a rider was added that no action was to be taken without the consent of the SNO Baltic. Agar pondered this last sentence. The Rear Admiral was too far away at Biorko for immediate consultation. So Agar decided to take his approval for granted. He began to plan an attack on the two battleships.

Early on the morning Friday June 1, White Ensign flying, he set out in No. 7 to reconnoitre the battleships. At 0200 hours, he located the two battleships at anchor, with a destroyer guard. An at­tempt at attack was prevented by a sudden engine failure. Unable to reach torpedo firing speed, there was nothing to do but return to Terrioki.

On the night of June 16, Agar had another go, taking both boats. Rounding Tolbukhin lighthouse No. 7′s propeller struck some heavy floating object. The impact sheared the propeller shaft. So there was nothing for it but to return to Terrioki with the cripple in tow.

Despite two failures, Agar was deter­mined to carry on. Next night he set out again in No. 4. Sailing from Terrioki at 2230 hours, he set a course west beyond Tolbukhin lighthouse. Proceeding in rather heavy seas, he went about three miles to the west before circling round to approach the fort — to make it appear that the attack had come from Biorko.

Reaching the anchorage where the battleships should be, Agar failed to find them — they had returned to Kronstadt. But he did locate a four-funnelled cruiser anchored with a guard of four destroyers, a sloop and a torpedo boat. This was the Oleg, which had replaced the battleships. No. 4 slipped between the destroyers and prepared to attack. At this critical point Sub. Lt. Hampsheir, in preparing the torpedo, accidentally fired the charge. Luckily, the two clamps were still on and the torpedo did not leave the trough. But it meant a new charge had to be fitted. Working in the dark in the rolling boat only 700 yards from a guard destroyer, it took 20 minutes to fit the charge. Luckily, the CMB remained undetected.

The new charge fitted, Agar swept in to attack. Increasing speed, he slipped through the guard ships. Approaching the Oleg at full speed, he fired his torpedo at a range of 800 yards, turning away to starboard afterwards. As No. 4 sped away, her crew saw a white fountain of water leap up the Oleg’s port side just abaft the forward funnel. The explosion was the signal for the Russian ships to open a wild, heavy fire at the CMBs wake. Most shots fell wide, but three heavy shells fell close enough to throw up No. 4′s stern and cause her to temporarily reduce speed.

Agar’s last sight of the Oleg showed her settling by the head, heavy black smoke pouring from her funnels. The torpedo had been fired at 0005 hours. By 0030, the CMB was far enough away to reduce speed and set course for Terrioki, which she reached at 0145.

The sound of the firing was heard at Biorko. No cause could be ascribed for it until a signal was received from Agar reporting the events of the night. Later a plane took off from the improvised landing strip at Biorko and flew over the area and this reconnaissance revealed the Oleg lying on her port side near the north-east end of Kotlin Island. It also revealed that the blow had come too late for Fort Krasnaya Gorka. The Red Flag was once more flying over it.

But if this successful attack was too late to save the fort, it had the effect of setting the Rear Admiral thinking. He sent a signal to Lt. Agar to come over to Biorko. When Agar arrived, Cowan discussed with him the feasibility of a raid on Kronstadt itself to neutralise the two battleships. After due consideration, Agar considered it was possible. A signal was then sent to the Admiralty, requesting a flotilla of CMBs, a request duly granted.

A flotilla of eight boats under the command of Commander Dobson, R.N., set out in tow from the CMB base at Osea Island. One — No.67 — was lost en route, the others reached Biorko on August 2.

They were the 55ft. boat, armed and commanded as follows:‑

No. 31 Commander Dobson and Lt. McBean 2 torpedoes

No. 79 Lt. Breaner 1 torpedo

No. 88 Lt. Dayrell-Reid 2 torpedoes

No. 24 Lt. Napier 1 torpedo

No. 72 Sub-Lt. Bodley 1 torpedo

No. 62 Lt.-Cmdr. Brade 2 torpedoes

No. 86 Sub-Lt. Howard 2 torpedoes

The cruiser Vindictive, which had been converted for aircraft carrying, took on the task of acting as mother ship to the flotilla. No time was lost in getting down to arranging a plan for action, for it was desirable to strike before the news of the CMBs arrival leaked through to Kronstadt. The earliest moonless nights would be between August 17 and 24. A plan of action was drawn up to be put into operation as soon as opportunity arose.

It was decided that the best way would be for the boats to attack in two groups of three, with a short interval between attacks for the first group to clear the harbour. The seventh boat would deal with the guard ship. Lt. Agar would pilot the boats through the line of forts guar­ding the North Channel. While the raid was on, he would lie outside the adjacent military harbour to attack any craft which might attempt to come out. To assist the boats in achieving surprise, an air raid would be mounted by the Vindictive’s mixed bag of planes, to start just before the boats entered the basin.

The actual date of the raid was fixed by the weather. On August 15, strong westerly winds resulted in the tideless waters of the Baltic being raised three feet in Petrograd Bay. By the 17th, this was a bonus not to be missed. On that afternoon, a reconnaissance flight was made over the basin, Commander Dobson going along to have a view of his targets.

The first group of boats would go for the priority targets, the Petropavlosk, the Andrei Pervosvanni, and the submarine depot ship Pamiat Azova. The second wave would repeat the attack if they failed. If the first wave succeeded, the second would attack the dry dock gates and the mine laying cruiser Rurik. She to be attacked last as her 300 mines would make a very unpleasant explosion.

At 0030 hours that day, the boats from Biorko rendezvoused with Lt. Agar in No. 7 off Inonini Point. The services of two 2 local smugglers as pilots had been obtained by suitable payment. One went in Agar’s boat, the other with Commander Dobson.

The flotilla moved off at 20 knots, a speed at which the CMB’s engine were not too noisy. Agar could see the spray from No. 24 behind him, but soon lost sight of the other boats. As they approached the line of forts, their wash was sighted and a spasmodic fire from machine guns and light artillery was opened on them. The forts did not, however, use searchlights. Agar’s pilot elected to pass over the submerged concrete breakwater about the middle of the chain. No damage was sustained from the fire of the forts, but at this time the force suffered its first set­back. Lt. Howard’s No. 86 had an engine breakdown just before reaching the forts and had to be left behind.

As the boats began their turn to star­board to pass round the east end of Kotlin Island, the sound of anti-aircraft guns and the beams of searchlights indicated that the air raid was underway and the at­tention of the port’s defences well oc­cupied. Arriving off the entrance to the basin, Agar found that the boats of the first wave had already arrived. Not long after sailing, the three boats led by Dobson had got so far over to starboard that they found themselves close to the north shore of Kotlin Island. Their local pilot turned away to port and passed through a gap in the breakwater closer inshore than Agar. This was made possible by the three-foot increase in depth. As a result of this, the boats arrived a little ahead of schedule.

The first boat to go in was No. 79 Lt. Bremner, at 0140 hours. He was equipped with wire-cutting gear and guncotton charges to deal with any boom or chain, but found no obstructions. No. 79 was able to accelerate across the basin and fire her torpedo at the Pamiat Azova. The noise of the aircraft engines helped to drown the noisy CMB engines and complete surprise was achieved. The explosion of the torpedo was the first indication to the Russians that the attack was on.

Dobson’s No. 31 followed No. 79 but swung away to port to attack the bat­tleships. As he did so, the defences began to come to life in the harbour. The basin was swept by machine-gun fire and searchlights were exposed. No. 31 was able to get a good shot and both tor­pedoes struck the Andrei Pervosvanni. By now the basin was like the proverbial hornet’s nest. The last boat, No. 88, found herself under heavy fire. Sub-Lt. Steel was firing back with the Lewis gun as Lt. Dayrell-Reid swung the boat round to port. From behind his gun, Steel suddenly realised that the boat was swinging too far to port for her shot at the battleships. A quick glance revealed that the lieutenant was slumped across the wheel, shot in the head.

Abandoning the Lewis gun, Steel managed to get the body off the wheel and brought the boat back to starboard. He just managed to reach the aiming position and fire the torpedoes before the boat was too close.

One torpedo struck an anchor chain but the other struck the Petropavlosk under the forward turret. The CMB was so close that, as she turned away to port, water and debris from the explosion fell around her. Steel took No. 88 to join No. 31 in the waiting area at the south end of the basin, and both boats then left the basin. For some reason, No. 79 was late leaving, with disastrous consequences.

The attack by the first wave had been lucky. Now began a series of misfortunes. The first was to No. 24. As planned, Lt. Napier attacked the guard ship, the destroyer Gavril anchored outside. For some reason, the torpedo missed and No. 24 was struck by a shell which split her in half as she turned away.

The second wave had already had the misfortune to lose the services of No. 86. Fifteen minutes after the first wave had gone in, Lt. Brade’s No. 62 swung into the basin and collided with No. 79, which was just coming out. He struck No. 79 on the port side, almost cutting her in half. With no reverse gear, No. 62 could not back out. Instead Brade kept her going ahead and managed to turn so that he pushed No. 79 ahead of him out of the basin. Lt. Lt. Bremner ordered his two-man crew to clamber aboard No. 62 while he set the fuses of the guncotton charges to ensure No. 79′s destruction. Shortly after he had clambered aboard No. 62 and Brade had got clear of No. 79, the latter blew up.

Since he still had his torpedoes, Brade decided to have a go at the Gavril. This vessel seemed to have a charmed life for, once again, the torpedoes missed her. As No. 62 was heading away, a shell struck her. It completely wrecked the engines and holed the boat so badly that she sank shortly afterwards.

The last boat, Sub-Lt. Bodley’s No. 72, entered the basin and headed for the dry dock, intending to torpedo the gates. She got halfway there when a shell splinter struck the cockpit. Nobody was hurt, but the splinter struck and distorted the torpedo-firing mechanism, jamming it. Unable to fire his torpedo, Bodley turned away and sped out of the basin. Running back round the eastern end of the island, he passed the forts and found the disabled No. 86. A towline was rigged, and Bodley towed her to Terrioki.

Agar’s No. 7 was the last to leave. Since no craft had come out of the other basin, No. 7 still had her torpedo, and Agar decided to use it on a clump of small craft lying inside this basin. It exploded doing considerable damage. At about 0210 hours, Agar set course for base.

With the forts now thoroughly alerted, the CMBs would have had an un­comfortable passage. They were helped here by the aircraft, which carried out a series of low flying attacks on the forts. These attacks, together with the use of smoke floats, enabled the boats to get past the searchlights and shellfire without damage.

Rear Admiral Cowan had provided a backing-up force of light cruisers and destroyers at the head of the bay, which had moved in after the attack started. They met No. 31 and No. 88, and the wounded Lt. Dayrell-Reid was transferred to the Delhi’s sickbay where he died a little later. The surviving boats returned to Terrioki where they refuelled and except for No. 7, returned to Biorko.

A reconnaissance flight over the basin later in the day revealed that the Pamiat Azova was lying on her port side, and the two battleships were sitting on the bottom. They could only sink about three feet but were going to be out of action for a long time. The cost for this had been three CMBs lost, four officers and four ratings killed, and three officers and six ratings taken prisoner. Amazingly, despite the difficulties of taking off and landing on the improvised airstrip at night, there were no aircraft casualties.

Cmdr. Dobson and Sub-Lt. Steel were awarded the VC. Lt. Agar was also awarded a VC for his attack on the Oleg, but as this was cloaked in security it has been called “the mystery VC”. Several D.S.O’s, D.S.G.’s, D.S.M.’s and D.F.C.’s were also awarded.

Although the CMBs disappeared from the Navy, one of the boats engaged in these events has survived. CMB No. 4 was acquired by her builders, Thornycrofts, and preserved in their yard. When the boatyard was closed down, she was handed over the Imperial War Museum. Her hull is now in storage awaiting suitable exhibition space.

Admiral Bacon, in his book on the Dover Patrol, summed up the verdict on CMBs considering that they had great potential value “provided their general unreliability and fact of special use was recognised.”

The final moments of the Camerone epic as Lt. Maudet with his legionnaires bayonet-charge the Mexicans.

Camerone, a point on the long, vulnerable French line of communication to Puebla from the coast. Mexico City was entered 3 weeks after Puebla fell on 17 May but the Foreign Legion action was to be the one moment of glory in a wearisome guerrilla war lasting till French evacuation in 1867.

A schematic reconstruc­tion of the fight at Camerone. Amazingly the Mexicans had men in the farmhouse yet took nine hours to win it.

‘Baionnette au canon!’ shouted the lieutenant. The five men still standing fixed bayonets. ‘En avant! Vive la Legion !’ With a yell they burst through the ruins and into the dust and smoke. Only two men survived the wounds they received in that final charge but the nine-hour minor action of Camerone fought in Mexico on 30 April 1863 has become an epic of the French Foreign Legion. They celebrate it every 30 April as Camerone Day and remember the sacrifice of 65 officers and men of 3rd Company, 1st Battalion, not in the service of France, but as soldiers of the Legion.

The Legion had been sent to Mexico because its officers had petitioned the Emperor Napoleon III to use the force on the expedition and save it from a soul-destroying routine of road-building in Algeria. It was for service outside France that the corps had been originally formed in 1831. France was involved in Mexico because of a civil war won by Benito Juarez, a Zapotec Indian and passionate believer in Mexican independence. A bitter enemy of hereditary power and wealth, anti-clerical and fiercely xenophobic, Juarez had sent home the Spanish Minister, expelled the Papal Nuncio and suspended payment of all foreign loans. By the October 1861 London Convention, France, Britain and Spain agreed to send a punitive expedition to Mexico. Undeterred, Juarez mobilized all males aged between 21 and 60. Britain and Spain continued to give support to the anti-Juarist faction, but let France bear the lion’s share of military action.

The French regular forces broke the Juarists in conven­tional fighting so the Mexicans changed to guerilla tactics. The Legion had missed most of this fighting when its three battalions under Colonel Jeanningros landed at Veracruz on 31 March 1863. Morale was high, the land was said to be rich, the women beautiful and willing, and food and drink plentiful. But disappointment came rapidly; the Legion battalions were broken up and posted in static garrisons. The French commander General de Division Elie F. Forey stationed the Legion on the grimmest part of the 260 -mile route up from Veracruz to Mexico City. In the unhealthy plains near the sea many men died from fever. Morale plunged and in the heat the Legionnaires discarded their kepis (low peaked caps) and took to wearing local sombreros. Their only work was to guard the route, check through supply convoys and protect them from Mexican irregulars.

On 29 April a special convoy came up from Veracruz. It consisted of 60 carts and 150 mules and, besides munitions, carried three million francs in gold to pay the 26,000-strong French army which had been besieging 22,000 Mexicans in Puebla for the past six weeks. The duty company for the escort to Puebla was the Legion’s 1st Battalion’s 3rd Company. Its paper strength was 112 men and three officers, but 50 men and all three officers were down with fever. The battalion adjutant, the paymaster and a 1st Company lieutenant volunteered to officer the depleted escort. They set out from the village of Chiquihuite at 0100 on 30 April.

The men who made up the escort were neither the romantic figures of popular fiction, nor the vicious thugs who feature in some ‘factual’ accounts of the Legion. They had been students, weavers, bookbinders and blacksmiths. There was a saddler, two sailors, a wood gilder, several waiters, two tilemakers and a draper in the ranks. Nationali­ties were varied, but the bulk came from Spain, Italy and Germany.

The officers were Legion products too. Captain Jean Danjou, son of a Carcassonne tradesman, was 28 years old, prematurely balding and sported a full ‘military’ moustache. An efficient adjutant, he was also a very brave fighting officer. When a musket exploded and shredded his left hand during Crimean War fighting at Sevastopol in 1855, he had coolly fixed a tourniquet and continued to command his company. Now he wore a jointed wooden hand covered with a white glove. Sous-Lieutenant Jean Vilain was only 20. Joining up for adventure he received a battlefield com­mission in Italy at the Battle of Magenta (1859). He had already won the Legion d’Honneur in the Crimea. Like Vilain, Sous-Lieutenant Clement Maudet had been pro­moted from the ranks at Magenta. A journalist actively opposed to Napoleon III’s rise in 1848, he had preferred the Legion to prison.

Danjou took his company forward of the main convoy to reconnoiter the route. He knew that the Mexicans with their excellent intelligence system must realize the convoy’s value. What the French did not know was the unusual strength of the guerilla force. Indeed, Danjou had refused an extra platoon offered by the Foreign Legion outpost at Chiquihuite for fear of leaving it more exposed to a hit-and-run raid. Colonel Milan had assembled a Mexican force at Jalapa to capture Puebla-bound siege artillery in Soledad, but the convoy presented itself as an excellent target of opportunity for the 300 regular cavalry, 350 irregular horsemen and three infantry battalions of 300-400 men. The cavalry were armed with 1850s-pattern Remington and Winchester rifles, but many of the infantry had nothing but old flintlock muskets. The Legionnaire weapon was the 1849 Minie rifle, a rifled single-shot muzzle-loader firing a French-invented pointed bullet with a hollow base which the exploding gases expanded to engage the barrel rifling. It was an accurate long-range weapon and in the hands of highly trained troops.

Danjou divided his escort into two extended files to cover either side of the road. The captain marched in the middle beside the company’s two mules loaded with rations and spare ammunition and a small rear party followed the forma­tion. At around 0700 they moved through the ruined hamlet of Camerone, and about a mile beyond Danjou called a halt for breakfast. The water for coffee was almost ready when the sentry sighted Mexican cavalry on the move. The water was tipped out and the men stood to. Over the skyline appeared hundreds of riders. Realizing that he was very vulnerable in the open Danjou decided to pull back to Camerone. He took his company through some thorn scrub which was difficult going for horsemen, but in the confusion the two supply mules bolted and 16 men became separated and were captured.

The story of the fight which followed has become the focal point of every Camerone Day celebration held by the Legion. It has been told innumerable times and in the telling has changed a little. Few contemporary accounts remain, but-the events to follow were recorded by the Swiss-born Count de Diesbach de Torny then a Lieutenant in the 2nd Battalion’s 5th Company.

When the Legionnaires reached Camerone the village seemed to be occupied, for a Legionnaire was wounded by a shot. Danjou divided the company into two platoons to clear the village. They swept in on the left and right and linked up on the far side without meeting any opposition, then searched the houses for a quarter of an hour, but found them deserted. Now the Mexican cavalry began to appear and though they gave ground it required bayonet charges and steady rifle fire to drive them off. In the lull that followed Danjou took his men back towards the village, but as they were nearing it they were again attacked. Forming a square (a tactic often employed in North Africa) the company repulsed this charge with steady volley firing. Though under constant harassment the square was able to move off. towards the hacienda (estate) of Camerone.

The hacienda had been built with an eye to protection against bandits, but was deserted and partly ruined. The two-storey farmhouse took up the whole length of one of the four adobe (sun-dried brick) walls which enclosed an open courtyard. It was a rambling, dilapidated building with

windows looking out on the road and doors opening into the yard. The other three walls, each about 50 yards long, were lined with outhouses, stables and a barn and the yard was entered by double gates in the west wall. Danjou discovered that the enemy had reached the hacienda before him. Despite several attempts to eject them the Mexicans managed to hold a room in the upper floor of the farmhouse which had a large window overlooking the yard. The Legionnaires held a room in the NW corner of the farmhouse, and the main gate, which was barricaded and defended by a section; a section covered a breach in the SE angle of the wall and the remaining men were positioned to cover the roofs. By 0900 the 49 defenders were in their makeshift battle positions.

Before their attack, the Mexicans called on the Legion­naires to surrender. ‘We’ll die before we surrender’ was Danjou’s reply and the fight began in earnest. The horsemen raised clouds of dust and the Legionnaires, unfed since early morning and with empty water canteens, began to suffer from the heat and dust. Two men tried to reach the well on the far side of the house, but they were shot and one lay writhing from his wound and shrieking with pain. A friend who tried to crawl to his assistance was shot by the Mexican snipers in the farmhouse.

Not long before he was killed, Danjou made every man swear not to surrender. Some popular accounts say the men swore the oath on his wooden hand, others that the men cheered in reply. Whatever the form of the oath; its exactor died at about 1100 shot in the head by a marksman from the farmhouse. Sous-Lt. Vilain, who outranked Maudet by a day, assumed command. He rallied the men and their morale soared when they heard the sound of drums and bugles which they took to be the regiment marching to their assis­tance. It was a short-lived hope; the new arrivals were three Mexican infantry battalions from Veracruz, Jalapa and Cordova, another thousand attackers.

They were better suited to the fighting than the cavalry, encumbered by riding boots and heavy sabres. A breach was battered in the east wall opposite the gates and the Legion section brought under fire from the rear. More men had joined the Mexicans in the upper floor of the farm and now they could shoot into the whole of the courtyard. At about 1400 Vilain was killed by a bullet in the forehead and Maudet took over. When the Mexicans again called on the Legion­naires to surrender, Maudet did not have time to give a formal reply, one of his men yelled back an obscene answer.

The Legionnaires were now reduced to crouching behind walls and barricades where they fired at the Mexicans who swarmed around them in the dirt. Men were suffering agonies from thirst and some wounded were reduced to drinking their own blood. Despite their sufferings the Legionnaires were putting up a very effective defence, so the Mexicans decided to save lives by smoking out their enemies. They brought up heaps of straw and set light to it, but while this added to the discomfort of their enemies it did not force them into the open.

At around 1700 there was a pause in the fighting. Now there were only 12 Legionnaires standing and one of them, a Spaniard called Bartolloto, translated the words of a speech they could hear being addressed to the Mexicans. It was Col. Milan. He told his men that at all costs the resis­tance must be crushed; failure to do this would bring undying disgrace. He was going to order a general assault.

The Mexicans attacked with renewed fervour and swarmed into the courtyard by every window, breach and gate available. At the main entrance only one Legionnaire remained alive. Corporal Berg, a Jew who had lost his lieutenant’s commission in the French Army for arguing with a senior officer, fought with his rifle and bayonet until dragged away wounded and unconscious by the Mexicans. In the SE corner Corporals Pinziger and Magnin with Legionnaires Kunasec and Gorski were now attacked from both front and rear. They were soon overwhelmed. By 1800 only Maudet, Corporal Philippe Maine a Frenchman, Polish Legionnaire Katau, Wenzel (German), Constantin (Austrian) and the Swiss, Leonhart, were still on their feet. Their Miniè rifles were so hot from firing that the barrels burned their hands. They fought for another quarter of an hour, from the ruins of a collapsed shed, but after they had exhausted ammunition stripped off the dead and wounded the end was inevitable.

They followed Sous-Lt. Maudet out through their barri­cade and across the courtyard in V-formation and such was the force of this final charge that it nearly cleared a path through the surrounding Mexicans. Maudet was at the head of the V, and, as the Mexicans fired, Legionnaire Constantin threw himself in front of the officer. He fell riddled, and seconds later Maudet fell mortally hit in the thigh and jaw. The Mexicans closed in and it seemed like the end. But Col. Milan who had watched the amazing charge rode forward and beating back his men with the flat of his sword saved three of the Legionnaires. Milan probably qualifies as the Legion’s most gallant foe, for enraptured by the battle he completely forgot about the bullion convoy yet ordered that the wounded survivors be carried by litter to a hospital 50 miles away.

Of the six, only Cp. Maine and Legionnaire Katau survived their wounds along with Cp. Berg. In addition 16 wounded were captured and some survived captivity. In all there were 32 survivors some of whom had been captured in the opening stages of the action. The Mexicans lost about 300 men of whom 200 were killed, but despite this they treated their prisoners well and exchanged them on a one-for-one basis. Maudet was buried with full military honours. Col. Milan, who withdrew his crippled force to Jalapa, was heard to mutter : ‘No son hombres; son demonios !’ (‘They are not men; they are devils’). The enormous disparity between Legion and Mexican losses was due mainly to the aimed and co-ordinated shooting of professional soldiers under cover against masses of less cohesive troops trying either to swamp them with ill-disciplined and hesitant rushes or pick them off with individual sharpshooters.

On the following morning Col. Jeanningros of the Legion arrived with a relief force, alerted by the convoy which had turned back on hearing firing ahead, and found Camerone a corpse strewn, smoking ruin. The company drummer was discovered alive, but with eight bullet wounds, under a pile of bodies, and he gave his version of the action. Danjou lay where he had died and before he was buried Jeanningros unhooked the bloodstained wooden hand. He said that he felt a sense of reverence as if he was touching something holy, and carried the hand with his belongings during the Mexican campaign. From captivity Cp. Berg was able to smuggle out a letter to his colonel telling him of the battle. He ended it ‘The 3rd Company is no more, but I must tell you that it contained nothing but good soldiers.’

When the news reached Paris the French and their Emperor were impressed by the courage and dedication of the Legion. As a tribute to this band of foreigners Napoleon ordered a memorial stone to be erected at Camerone. It reads:

Ils furent ici moins de soixante

Opposes a toute une armee.

Sa masse les ecrasa.

La vie plutôt que 7e courage

Abandonna ces soldats français.

Le 30 avril 1863.

Of the survivors Corporals Maine and Berg were promoted to sous-lieutenant. Maine rose to captain, but Berg died in a duel. Some accounts even say that it was fought with Maine, but how he died has not clouded the mystique of Camerone.

During the remainder of their five-year stay in Mexico (until US pressure and Mexican resistance led to abandonment of the installed Emperor Maximilian and evacuation) all French troops passing Camerone were ordered to present arms. Today all that remains of the hacienda are the vague outlines of some of the buildings and part of a wall. A railway line runs through the courtyard where the Legionnaires made their final charge.

Each new recruit who arrives in the present-day Legion depot at Aubagne (12 miles east of Marseilles in S. France) is told the story of Camerone. He learns that a Legionnaire does not surrender, and even when all hope has gone he dies facing the enemy with his weapon in his hands. Each 30 April the 1st Regiment parades Danjou’s wooden hand where it ‘takes the salute’ at the depot. An account of the action is read to every Legion unit on Camerone Day, and ex-Legionnaires remember the day all over the world. Though the wooden hand remains in its glass-sided box with the 1st Regiment, the ashes of the Camerone dead are held in rotation by the chapel of each Legion regiment. They are held in a reliquary carved in the shape of a Mexican eagle, which features in the 1st Regiment’s badge.