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Apr 21, 2026
5 min read · Intermediate

The Duke of Wellington, portrait by Francisco Goya, 1812–14. National Gallery, London. Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain.↗
On the night of April 6, 1812, British and Portuguese troops made five separate assaults on the fortress of Badajoz. Nearly 5,000 allied soldiers were killed or wounded in four hours. What happened the next morning was, in some ways, worse.
The fortress city of Badajoz on the Portuguese-Spanish border had been taken twice by French forces and twice besieged by Wellington's army. By the spring of 1812, it had become a strategic obsession — a key crossing point on the Guadiana River that the French could use to threaten either Portugal or Andalusia depending on operational needs. Wellington needed it cleared.
The third siege of Badajoz began on March 16, 1812. What made it different from its predecessors was Wellington's determination to succeed regardless of cost, and a set of tactical conditions that made the assault of the prepared breaches an extraordinarily costly proposition.
Badajoz in 1812 was among the most formidable fortresses in the Iberian Peninsula. Its garrison of approximately 5,000 men under General Armand Philippon had six weeks to prepare for the assault, and they used that time systematically. The approaches to the three breaches in the walls — at the Trinidad bastion, the Santa Maria bastion, and the curtain wall between them — were flooded where possible, strewn with sword blades embedded point-upward, and covered by cross-fires from flanking positions and from the castle, which dominated the breach area from higher ground.
Wellington's engineers had identified the breaches as the assault points because they were there — the artillery had made them, and there was no better option available within the siege timeline. The attacking force would go into channels of fire against defenders who had prepared specifically for this approach.
The assault began at 10 o'clock at night. Four columns were assigned to the main breaches: the 4th Division and Light Division to the Trinidad and Santa Maria breaches respectively, with additional forces for flanking diversions. The diversionary attacks — escalades of the San Vicente bastion by the 5th Division and of the castle by the 3rd Division under Picton — were less expected by the defenders and, as it happened, succeeded where the main assaults failed.
At the breaches themselves, the attacks went in eleven times over approximately four hours. Each was repulsed. The sword blades, the flooded ditch, the defensive fires from flanks and rear — all performed as the French garrison had intended. The 4th and Light Divisions suffered casualties at a rate that contemporary accounts describe as catastrophic even by Peninsular War standards.
"I have never seen so many dead and wounded in so small a space," Wellington wrote in his Supplementary Dispatches following the battle. "The breaches were more terrible than I had contemplated."
The assault succeeded because Picton's escalade of the castle and the 5th Division's crossing of the San Vicente bastion — both considered secondary efforts — broke into the fortress from directions the garrison could not adequately cover. As French defenders were diverted to contain these incursions, pressure at the breaches was maintained long enough for small groups to force their way through. By approximately 2 a.m. on April 7, the fortress was effectively taken. Philippon surrendered at dawn.
Allied casualties at Badajoz were among the heaviest of any single night's fighting in the entire Peninsular War. Wellington's official returns recorded 4,670 killed and wounded. The Light Division — arguably the finest light infantry formation in the British army — lost 1,000 men in the breach assaults alone. The 4th Division suffered comparable losses. Picton, wounded at the castle, reported heavy casualties in the 3rd Division as well.
French casualties in the defense were approximately 1,200 killed and wounded, with the remainder of the garrison taken prisoner.
Wellington had prepared orders against plunder. They were not enforced.
What followed the fall of Badajoz on the morning of April 7 was a systematic sacking of the city that continued for three days. The civilian population — Spanish, nominally allied — was subjected to robbery, assault, and murder by troops who had survived an extraordinarily costly assault and whose discipline had collapsed under the cumulative strain of the siege and the night's fighting. Contemporary accounts, including those of officers who attempted to intervene, describe scenes of sustained violence against civilians. Women were assaulted. Houses were looted and burned. Several officers who attempted to restrain their men were threatened.
Wellington erected a gallows and threatened mass executions. The sacking continued for approximately 72 hours before order was restored.
Charles Esdaile's assessment in *The Peninsular War* is measured: the behavior at Badajoz was not unique in the history of early modern siege warfare — the convention that a garrison refusing to surrender before a breach had been made forfeited the city's right to protection was widespread — but the scale and duration of the violence went well beyond what military convention sanctioned, and Wellington's inability to stop it was a significant command failure.
The capture of Badajoz, combined with the fall of Ciudad Rodrigo earlier in 1812, gave Wellington control of both main invasion routes from Portugal into Spain. This strategic shift enabled the Salamanca campaign of summer 1812, Wellington's tactical masterpiece, and ultimately the liberation of Madrid in August. In retrospect, Badajoz was the hinge point of the Peninsular War.
The 5,000 British and Portuguese soldiers who died or were maimed at the breaches paid a price that the strategic result arguably justified — by the cold calculus of campaign outcomes. Whether that calculus accommodates what happened to the civilian population of Badajoz in the days that followed is a question the historical record raises without resolving.
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