The 1810 French invasion of Portugal, commanded by the veteran marshal André Masséna, who was known to Napoleon as the 'Spoilt Child of Victory' has been well covered by historians. Conversely, the shock revelation of the presence of the Lines of Torres Vedras baring the French Army of Portugal's way to their objective of Lisbon, and numerous combats through to the Battle of Funtes de Oñoro, has been frequently and unjustifiably glossed over. This book, starting with the occupation of the Lines of Torres Vedras, which were at the heart of Wellington's Peninsular strategy from October 1809-1812, is the story of Wellington's pursuit of Masséna back to Spain. This was a time when the Peninsular Army was still being forged and Wellington was refining his own art of war. In addition, 1810-1811 was a period when the outcome of the struggle in Iberia was still far from certain, and Wellington could not manoeuvre with the same confidence in the outcome as he could in future years. The series of combats fought at Pombal, Redhina, Foz da Arounce and Sabugal while Masséna was at bay, though not categorised as 'general actions', were of the same scale and significance as those of 1808; Roliça and Vimiero. The general action at Funtes de Oñoro was one of the most significant of Wellington's victories, but he confessed that 'If Bony had been here we would have been beat'.

The 1810 French invasion of Portugal, commanded by the veteran marshal André Masséna, who was known to Napoleon as the ‘Spoilt Child of Victory’ has been well covered by historians. Conversely, the shock revelation of the presence of the Lines of Torres Vedras baring the French Army of Portugal’s way to their objective of Lisbon, and numerous combats through to the Battle of Funtes de Oñoro, has been frequently and unjustifiably glossed over. This book, starting with the occupation of the Lines of Torres Vedras, which were at the heart of Wellington’s Peninsular strategy from October 1809-1812, is the story of Wellington’s pursuit of Masséna back to Spain. This was a time when the Peninsular Army was still being forged and Wellington was refining his own art of war. In addition, 1810-1811 was a period when the outcome of the struggle in Iberia was still far from certain, and Wellington could not manoeuvre with the same confidence in the outcome as he could in future years. The series of combats fought at Pombal, Redhina, Foz da Arounce and Sabugal while Masséna was at bay, though not categorised as ‘general actions’, were of the same scale and significance as those of 1808; Roliça and Vimiero. The general action at Funtes de Oñoro was one of the most significant of Wellington’s victories, but he confessed that ‘If Bony had been here we would have been beat’.

After a gap of two years, the 1812 Salamanca Campaign saw Wellington taking the offensive in Spain against Marshal Marmont's Army of Portugal. Marching from the border fortress of Ciudad Rodrigo which fell to the Allies in January, neither commander was willing to take the risk of a general action without a clear tactical advantage. The result were stand-offs as Wellington offered battle on the San Christóbal Heights, but once the small French-garrisoned forts left behind in Salamanca fell, Marmont withdrew to the Douro. For over a week the two armies shared cooling waters of the river before Marmont 'humbugged' Wellington and fell on the Allied left flank at Castrejón. Wellington rushed to the aid of the Light and 4th divisions with the heavy cavalry. Over the following days Marmont dexterously maneuvered Wellington back towards Salamanca, with both armies within cannon shot still not risking battle.When it seemed Wellington would have to march back to the safety of Portugal, Marmont finally made a mistake on the plains south of Salamanca on 22 July 1812, by allowing his army to become over extended. Wellington saw what was happening and after weeks of marching and counter marching, the battle the soldiers earnestly hoped for was on.In the past it has been difficult to place the fighting on the ground in the center of the Salamanca battlefield, where 'vast clouds of smoke and dust that rolled along the basin' obscured vision even for those fighting. Supplementing their letters, diaries and memoirs with modern geographical aids, archaeology and a stout pair of boots, it is now possible to reconcile the sequence of the battle with locations, in a way in which it was not feasible even a few years ago.

This military study sheds new light on the significance of Copenhagen in the Napoleonic Wars through primary source accounts of two major battles. In 1801 and 1807, British forces clashed with Napoleon and his allies in the Danish capital of Copenhagen. Yet the significance of those battles, and the key role the country played in the conflict in northern Europe, has rarely been examined in detail. In The Two Battles of Copenhagen, Gareth Glover uses original source material to describe these events from the British and Danish perspectives. In the process, he reveals new insights into the politics of this region during this turbulent phase of European history. The first Battle of Copenhagen was a naval battle celebrated in Britain as one of Nelson’s great victories. The second was an assault on the city by the British army in which Wellington played a prominent part. These episodes in the continental struggle to resist the French are described in vivid detail, with extensive quotes from the recollections of eyewitnesses on both sides.

The first campaign medal awarded to British soldiers is reckoned to be that given to those men who fought at Waterloo in 1815, but a decade and a half earlier a group of regiments were awarded a unique badge – a figure of a Sphinx - to mark their service in Egypt in 1801. It was a fitting distinction, for the successful campaign was a remarkable one, fought far from home by a British army which had so far not distinguished itself in battle against Revolutionary France, and one moreover which had the most profound consequences in the Napoleonic wars to come. In 1798 a quixotic French expedition led by a certain General Bonaparte not only to seize Egypt and consolidate French influence in the Mediterranean, but also to open up a direct route to Indian and provide an opportunity to destroy the East India Company and fatally weaken Great Britain. In the event, General Bonaparte returned to France to mount a coup which would eventually see him installed as Emperor of the French, but behind him he abandoned his army, which remained in control of Egypt, still posing a possible threat to the East India Company, until in 1801 a large but rather heterogeneous British Army led by Sir Ralph Abercrombie landed and in a series of hard-fought battles utterly defeated the French. Not only did this campaign establish the hitherto rather doubtful reputation of the British Army, and help secure India, but its capture en route of the islands of Malta gained Britain a base which would enable it to dominate the Mediterranean for the next century and a half. This little understood, but profoundly important campaign at last receives the treatment it deserves in the hands of renowned historian Stuart Reid.

As the Battle of Waterloo reached its momentous climax, Napoleon’s Imperial Guard marched towards the Duke of Wellington’s thinning red line. The Imperial Guard had never tasted defeat and nothing, it seemed, could stop it smashing through the British ranks. But it was the Imperial Guard that was sent reeling back in disorder, its columns ravaged by the steady volleys of the British infantry. The credit for defeating the Imperial Guard went to the 1st Foot Guards, which was consequently honored for its actions by being renamed the Grenadier Guards. The story did not stop there, however, as the 52nd Foot also contributed to the defeat of the Imperial Guard yet received no comparable recognition. The controversy of which corps deserved the credit for defeating the Imperial Guard has continued down the decades and has rightly become a highly contentious subject over which much ink has been spilled. But now, thanks to the uncovering of the previously unpublished journal of Charles Holman of the 52nd Foot, Gareth Glover is able to piece together the exact sequence of events in those final, fatal moments of the great battle. Along with numerous other firsthand accounts, Gareth Glover has been able to understand the most likely sequence of events, the reaction to these events immediately after the battle and how it was seen within the army in the days after the victory. Who did Wellington honor at the time? How did the Foot Guards gain much of the credit in London? Was there an establishment cover-up? Were the 52nd robbed of their glory? Do the recent much-publicized arguments stand up to impartial scrutiny? The Great Waterloo Controversy is the definitive answer to these questions and will finally end this centuries-old conundrum.

In the first groundbreaking volume of a new series, acclaimed Napoleonic scholar Gareth Glover brings together previously unpublished material relating to the Battle of Waterloo. The range and unique nature of much of the research will intrigue and fascinate enthusiasts and historians alike. The wealth of hitherto unseen British material contained in Volume I includes: a series of letters written by a senior officer on Wellington's staff to Sir Thomas Graham immediately following the battle; the letters of a member of the Wedgwood family in the Guards at Waterloo; the journal of Sergeant Johnston of the Scots Greys, detailing all his experiences, including a very rare transcript of his own court martial; and letters from eminent surgeons – including those of Hume, Davy and Haddy James – who recall their harrowing tales of the horrific wounds suffered at Waterloo. In addition to these letters and journals, this volume will include 21 original line drawings created by Cavalié Mercer to accompany his famous book on his experiences at Waterloo, but which was never published. Subsequent volumes will include French, German, Dutch and Belgian material that has never been translated into English before.