Rifleman Tom Plunket of the British 95th
As American muzzleloaders, we are naturally drawn to our own historical figures. Who amongst us has not heard of Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, Lewis Wetzel, Samuel Brady, Tim Murphy, Daniel Morgan or the many others who created our nation and contributed to our frontier lore? However, marksmanship, bravery and deeds worth of retelling are not exclusive to our soil, and if we look across the pond hard enough, we will find worthy men. In examining the early history of the British 95th Regiment, later stylized as the Rifle Brigade, one rifleman, Tom Plunket, stands out.
Tom Plunket was born in Newton County, Ireland and at the age of 20, enlisted at Dublin into the Rifle Brigade on May 10, 1805. Described as a “smart, well-made fellow, about middle height and in the prime of manhood; with clear grey eye and handsome countenance,” he was believed by some to be the “best shot in the regiment.” Kincaid described Plunket as: “...a bold, active, athletic Irishman, and a deadly shot...” Initially sent to South America with Whitelocke, Plunket began his reputation as a rifleman there.
Whitelock’s reinforcements of four companies of the 1/95 were united with the three companies of the 2/95 and placed under the command of Major McLeod as a provisional battalion. Along with the rest of the army, they pushed onto Buenos Aires and quickly stormed the town. However, poor leadership failed to consolidate the victory and the Spaniards rallied, and isolating the scattered British units, forced them to successively surrender. Among the isolated British units was Tom Plunket who was kept very active. “In an action to retake Buenos Aires, he and Fisher, another rifleman, were hoisted onto the roof of a low building to act as sharpshooters. Some years later, when asked by an officer of the 95th how many men he had killed from this position, Plunket replied: ‘Twenty, sir,’ then added: ‘I shot a gentleman with a flag of truce, sir.’ Not understanding the situation, that is exactly what he had done, and the man had died of his wounds.”
Along with the rest of his makeshift battalion, Plunket was captured and returned to England. Rejoining the First Battalion, he was sent to the Peninsular under Sir John Moore where he again distinguished himself. 95th Lt. Johnny Kincaid describes a frequently cited incident:
The regiment was formed in front of Calcabellos covering the rear of the infantry, and on the first appearance of the enemy they had been ordered to withdraw behind the town. Three parts of them had already passed the bridge, and the remainder were upon it, or in the act of filing through the street with the careless confidence which might be expected from their knowledge that the British cavalry still stood between them and the enemy; but in an instant our own cavalry, without the slightest notice, galloped through and over them, and the same instant saw a French sabre flourishing over the head of every man who remained beyond the bridge - many were cut down in the streets, and a great portion of the rear company were taken prisoners.
The remainder of the regiment, seeing the unexpected attack, quickly drew off among the vineyards to the right and left of the road, where they cooly awaited the approaching assaults. The dismounted voltigeurs first swarmed over the river, assailing the riflemen on all sides, but they were met by a galling fire which effectively stopped them. General Colbert next advanced to dislodge them, and passing the river at the head of his dragoons, he charged furiously up the road; but, when within a few yards of our own men, he was received with such a deadly fire, that scarcely a Frenchman remained in the saddle, and the general himself was among the slain. The voltigeurs preservered in their unsuccessful endeavors to force the post, and a furious fight continued to be waged, until darkness put an end to it, both sides having suffered severely...
General Colbert (the enemy’s hero of the day), was, by all accounts, (if I may be permitted the expression,) splendid as a man, and not less so as a soldier. From the commencement of the retreat of our army he had led the advance, and been conspicuous for his daring: his gallant bearing had, in fact, excited the admiration of his enemies; but on this day, the last of his brilliant earthly career, he was mounted on a white charger, and had been a prominent figure in the attack of our men in the street the instant before, and it is not, therefore, to be wondered at if the admiration for the soldier was for a space drowned in the feeling for the fallen comrades which his bravery had consigned to death; a rifleman, therefore, of the name of Plunket, exclaiming, ‘thou too shalt surely die!’ took up an advanced position, for the purpose of singling him out, and by his hand he no doubt fell.
I'll share more about Plunket later.