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Welcome back to This Day in Irish History. I'm your host, Raymond Welsh. Before we dive into today's story, if you’d like to explore other significant events that happened on this day in Irish history, visit thisdayirishhistory.com—the link is in the episode description. Now, let’s journey back to April 9, 1812, to the grim and chaotic siege of Badajoz, one of the bloodiest encounters of the Peninsular War, where Irishmen—loyally serving on opposite sides—found themselves locked in a harrowing and tragic confrontation.
The Peninsular War, part of the wider Napoleonic Wars, raged across Spain and Portugal from 1808 to 1814. It pitted Napoleon’s forces against an alliance of British, Portuguese, and Spanish armies. Among the many who fought in this long and brutal campaign were thousands of Irishmen, scattered across opposing armies due to emigration, exile, conscription, and mercenary service. By the time the French-held fortress city of Badajoz came under siege in 1812, the war had reached a critical point—and for some Irish soldiers, the horror of battle would come with an even deeper layer of bitter irony.
On one side of the fortress walls stood British-led forces under the command of the Duke of Wellington, which included the Connaught Rangers and other Irish regiments who had long served in the British Army. On the other side, defending the besieged city under French command, were elements of the Irish Legion—volunteers formed by Napoleon in 1803, many of them descendants of earlier exiles, known as the “Wild Geese,” who had fled Ireland following failed uprisings or in the aftermath of the Flight of the Earls.
Also among the defenders was the Spanish Regiment of Hibernia, originally formed in the early 18th century and composed largely of Irish expatriates and their descendants. These regiments had been fighting under the Bourbon Spanish crown long before Napoleon’s invasion, but now, in the strange twists of Napoleonic-era alliances, some found themselves aligned with or subsumed into French forces, depending on the region and political circumstance.
The siege itself was relentless and appallingly violent. Beginning in late March 1812, British and Portuguese forces laid siege to Badajoz in an effort to wrest it from French control. The city’s thick fortifications and determined defenders made progress agonizingly slow. Miners dug trenches under fire, artillery pounded the walls day and night, and repeated frontal assaults were repulsed with devastating losses. On April 6, the final storming began. Over the course of several days, culminating in a brutal hand-to-hand struggle by April 9, the attackers breached the walls and fought street by street. The defenders, including the Irish Legion and remnants of the Hibernia regiment, fought with grim resolve, knowing that defeat meant either death or imprisonment.
Casualties were horrific on both sides. British forces suffered over 4,000 dead and wounded, with Irish regiments like the Connaught Rangers paying a particularly high price. Many of the defenders were killed outright, others captured. And amid the carnage, Irishmen who had never set foot on Irish soil but bore the heritage of exile, met their countrymen on a foreign battlefield, divided by history, empire, and circumstance.
What makes the Siege of Badajoz so striking in the context of Irish history is not merely the scale of bloodshed but the symbolism of Irish soldiers fighting one another under foreign flags. It reflects the long legacy of colonization, rebellion, and emigration. For centuries, Irish Catholics were barred from serving in their own country’s army, driving many to seek military careers abroad—in Spain, France, and beyond. Others, finding opportunities in the expanding British Empire, rose through the ranks of the British military. These diverging paths brought them, tragically, to places like Badajoz.
In the aftermath, the British victory at Badajoz was marred by widespread looting and violence. Wellington himself was appalled by the conduct of his troops, but the sheer trauma of the siege had unleashed a torrent of rage. The city’s fall marked a crucial turning point in the Peninsular War, paving the way for future victories that would eventually drive Napoleon’s forces out of the Iberian Peninsula.
But for Ireland, the Siege of Badajoz remains a powerful, if somber, symbol of a scattered and divided people. It underscores how Irish identity, in the early 19th century, was shaped not just by life at home, but by centuries of forced migration, foreign service, and entanglement in European power struggles. Irishmen fought—and died—not only for Ireland but for causes and countries that often had little to do with the island itself. Yet through this complexity, a uniquely Irish military legacy took shape—one born of exile, resilience, and a willingness to fight, wherever the banner may be raised.
Thank you for joining me on this journey through Ireland’s rich past. Please like and subscribe, and until next time, I’m Raymond Welsh—Slán go fóill!
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