Redcoats in the White House (written when I mistakenly thought my ancestor could have struck the match to Mrs Madison's curtains. It now turns out his regiment was sent back to England beforehand from Novia Scotia to prepare for Waterloo).
Tom, my direct male ancestor (they didn't have girlies in his no nonsense butch Limey regiment in those pre-liberation days then, not for "thin red line" purposes anyway) fought at Waterloo, the battle not the London railway station, I know this because the station was in its pre-existent stage at the time, trains being somewhat like our own daily night rocket to Mars (can you have a daily night anything?).
His brother James missed the fun because he was in a French military version of Quantanamo Bay, only without toilets, change of underwear or the orange jump suits, although they probably had chains on their feet like the American guests, the French at the time being barbarians. Of course the English were not! What do you mean they used to hang Americans? That is what they were there for.
James had this treatment for eight years before Wellington gave Boney the boot. Geddit! Geddit! The descriptions of the prisons then are horrific, but at least western Europeans no longer just slaughtered the other ranks they took prisoner. Moreover, at least they were not accused of attacking freedom and democracy whilst being beaten up and having their photos taken by hillbilly torturers waving the flag of the Republic whilst pretending to be soldiers, or being renditioned to distant Toiletstans for a spot of genital crushing. But then, maybe they were, but I digress.
Old Tom was in the 23rd Regiment of Foot, now the Royal Welch. The 23rd was one of the premier regular regiments in North America and fought in nearly every major campaign (except Burgoyne's) from Lexington and Concord in 1775, through Yorktown in 1781. Indeed, I understand there is a "fusiliers' redoubt" remaining as a tourist site on one battlefield in New England where the 23rd held off these proto-Johnny Rebs in a greatly admired stand until they were ordered by High Command to give up and make a "strategic withdrawal" - it must be noted that the British Army never retreats. They might scarper off like rabbits occasionally but they never retreat. As some dead kraut said during the First World War "the British fight like lions but are lead by donkeys". No change there then in the military or the civilian spheres, but I digress.
In passing, that was the First World War not the Second, which came after and not before and was really the First World War Part Two anyway; neither was it Part Three, which is really the Second and which is due to kick off soon but is delayed for technical reasons, probably the traditionally unexpected cold winters in Russia. I trust the next time Germany looks for Lebensraum to the east, they will wear woollen long-johns, but I digress.
General Washington - you remember him, the slave owning traitor named after the capital - commented very admiringly on their courageous performance of the 23rd and I understand, on their chivalry when dealing with captured Americans. Not a common thing to do when you are dealing with perceived rebels and traitors. The 23rd probably just realized that they were going to lose and had better desist from hanging every Yank they could get their hands on if they ever wanted to see Manchester United play at home again, the naughty scallywags.
When I first found out, I thought, great, now I can waffle on about how my personal clan geezer gave the New Englanders a hard time. What a disappointment to find out that old Tom did not take the King's schilling until 1798. That cut the ground from right under me. Now I have to dig out something else to insult the lard-arse Americans about. Not hard to do but that is by the by. It is not fair (stamps foot and sulks).
Mind you! One of the two battalions did go to Nova Scotia for the 1812 overture - or was it the 1814 storming of Washington DC, I always get those two mixed up - which was fun but you had to have been there - and so there is a real possibility that he personally took part in the attack on Washington DC. I like to think so!
Just think! It might have been my direct ancestor "Tom the Torch" that struck a light for oppression and tyranny and put a torch to the original Library of Congress, the Capitol Building, the Treasury Building, and the just broken-in White House on August (11th ?) 1814 before it was white. A sort of Georgian 8/11, although His Britannic Majesty's regular regiments were no suicidal manic mullahs out to punish the infidel, just a bunch of likely lads out for a laugh after a few bottles of dubious rum, which is probably worse as far as the ethical side goes - whatever that is - but that is another more philosophical tale. Well! The colonials should not have burnt York (later Toronto) - you know how upset that made the Canuck forest bunnies - and that old slave owner Jefferson should not have sneered about "old Europe" and "surrender monkeys". What is a lad with a box of matches to do? Of course, the Tommies would not have bothered if they knew the 101st pre-Airborne were waiting on the other side of the Potomac with ye olde worlde John Wayne carrying buckets of whitewash. I can just see old Tom now, getting his orders from the snuff sniffing officer on parade:
"I say there, (sniff, sniff) you old Tom common soldier like chappie! (sniff, sniff) Be a good peasant and put a torch to that colonial hovel (sniff, sniff) on the edge of the Potomac would you, and be quick about it, there's a good man. (sniff, sniff) I'm late for Tiffin with Lady Faversham!"
For all the world like a demonic Georgian Alfred E. Neuman in a bright red greatcoat, pretty pointy hat with GR on it (which either meant "George Rex" or "Girlie Ribbons", I'm not sure), tight white pantaloons, white calf hugging stockings, pretty shiny buttons and buckles and with a powdered wig (Here! Just a minute! You can't insult the butch British Army like that!) not to forget, holding firmly onto his sturdy musket (that's more like it) whilst thinking of his missus, with an evil grin and a very large tinderbox indeed, putting a light to President Madison's favourite armchair and pissing on the great seal in the outer chamber.
In passing, passing water on respected enemy national symbols is something for which the English soldier is renowned - ask the post-master race around Bertesgarten in Kraut land. It would not do to piss in the White House now though. There would be marines abseiling on to Number 10 and accidentally shooting Ministers Prime in the bank balance before one could say "freedom and democracy! Anyway, the British Army would not do such a thing today, would they? I mean! It is just not done, old chap!
Surely, they can make a movie about it? Bygones be bygones. We're all brothers again now. Now whom can we get to play the main lead? A young Michael Caine would have been alright:
"Nota lotta geezers no this, but moy noime Hiz Lance Corporal Michael Caine, Horf 'is Majesty's 23rd regiment Hof foot, 'n Hi yam gonna burn darn this fine colonial building lyke wot der rebel toffs does abide Hin. Not becos Hi wanta, Hi 'asten to Hadd, but becos me Hofficer, being Hay fine gentleman lyke wot 'e His, 'as told me to does Hit.
'Michael, my good man', 'e said, disdainfully flicking Hay speck of dust Horf 'is luvverly Hembroidered tunic; 'get yer matches out', 'e said, 'there's a nice chap'. Wot's Hit Hall Habart?"
Judd Law can't take the part as he does not look like he could heave a bloody great musket about for twenty years. Russell Crowe would do. He is a Kiwi and that accent would be nearer to old Tom's time than our own. How about Daniel Day-Lewis? If he can play an unwashed surly frontiersman who hangs about with Indians (I didn't know they had Hindus in New England?), he can play a stalwart (probably also unwashed) English soldier of the thin red line, surely?
It is sobering to think that old Tom fought throughout the Napoleonic wars until well after it finished, being in continuous campaigns and almost annual major now famous battles, for twenty odd years and throughout the whole theatre, including the Caribbean and Canada, not to mention Washington. :o) . No such thing as six months out in the field smoking dope, listening to Jimmy Hendrix and getting visits from Bob Hope in those days. Whether he got letters from home is unknown. Unsurprisingly, his discharge papers say he was "worn out" at the age of 45 or thereabouts. That will teach him to drink grog and rotgut rum until four in the morning for two decades.
In a passing note, even during the worst fighting of the Peninsular War, Tom won a regimental lottery to have his "woman" with him on campaigns (I kid you not) - possibly the most important lottery I could ever be related to. Lucky for me that he won the toss, otherwise I would never have risen above the rank of possibility. You would have therefore missed this inspiring essay, or is it just nonsensical waffle? I always get those two mixed up, as maybe obvious.
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A follow-up to “Recoats in the White House”
Bartoncii writes
“My ancestor (Great, Great Great, Great Grandfather), Captain John Pasture of the Virginia navy, captured a good part of the British 23rd regiment at Yorktown. They were cowering in the British army’s privies, hoping to escape George Washington's notice, when Captain John and his crew, armed with pistols, cutlasses, and boarding pikes chased the 23 out of hiding. I wonder if old Tom was one of the Privy rats who were captured that day.”
Oh yes! A legend in the 23rd. "Pansy" Pasture they called him for his habit of spending his leisure hours in the privy with swishing sailors. Pansy - or Pauline as he liked to be known on board - and his pals were dubbed the 69th or "Pansy's Own Screechers" by American regulars. I understand that his ensign depicted a cockerel in fishnet stockings with the motto underneath "Donne le moi, grand garcon" which is French for "Give it to me, big boy", so we know what "pistols, cutlasses and boarding pikes" are euphemisms for, don't we lads! Ouch!
In order to avoid getting their regulation issued white pantaloons stained by dubiously inclined rebel seamen so to speak, any more than they already were by nature's residue, the redcoats in the privy gave up immediately to Washington personally. They were able to do this as when the 23rd arrived for their annual ablutions (“we wash every Autumn whether we need to or not” was the proud boast of the British solder of "the thin red line") for some reason unknown to these innocent lads from the South Welsh hills, where men were men and sheep were nervous, Washington was already in the privy dressed in a little French maid's outfit and carrying a bucket of pig grease. I understand it was something to do with "having a thing" for uniforms.
“Pansy and his girlie 69th had their rum and baccy but were still looking for the bum part of the ditty and the Britannic posterior was as attractive as any they had seen whilst frigging in the rigging of the American fleet.
Judging the situation by the noise, the 23rd thought they were being attacked by an overwhelming force of stalwart American mariners lead by a Georgian Lee Marvin, but the noise was really Pansy and his girlie mates screeching with delight at finding a privy to play in. When the 23rd saw "Pansy's Screechers" mincing towards them, they put two and two together with Washington’s pig grease and immediately surrendered. Sheep back home for a growing experimenting lad were one thing but American seaman approaching from the rear was too much.
The 23rd would have asked for reinforcements from General Clinton, but he had disappeared into his tent – called the Oral Office by the troops for some reason – with his batman, Lance Corporal Lewinsky and could not be contacted.
