How Common was Desertion in Eighteenth-Century Armies?

Soldiers from Germanic armies often had a reputation for desertion. Was it deserved?

Dear Reader,


I was speaking on the phone with one of my friends a few weeks ago. A veteran reenactor, and living-historian in his own right, he made a peculiar statement. He said that sickness, death in battle, enterprising foes and surprise attacks by the enemy all might be difficult for reenactors to simulate, and indeed, some (like death) should remain impossible to do so. "But desertion," he said, "desertion, I understand." Leading reenactors often feel a slight sense of betrayal at the tendency of unit members not to show up at events.  As a unit commander, he believed that he had a rather good understanding of how a regimental commander might have felt while facing desertion, as his (modern) eighteenth-century soldiers trickled away from his control.

This brings us to another question: how common was desertion in eighteenth-century armies? Like the previous post on sickness, this post is connected to my average soldier series. It may seem at first glance as though desertion was quite common: indeed it was much more common than it is in militaries today. J.A. Houlding quotes Frederick II of Prussia (as so many people do), who supposedly said that, "If my soldiers were to begin to think, not one of them would remain in the army." [1] This is at least as true as Frederick's statement, "Soldiers should be more afraid of their officers than the enemy," that is to say, not at all.[2] Christopher Duffy has shown, from research in Austrian archives, that Prussian prisoners of war often refused to desert their army, and as prisoners frequently preached their thoughts on the positive qualities of their prince.[3] How likely, then, were most soldiers to desert from their armies?

Recaptured deserters would "run the gauntlet" 12, 24, or 36 times, often a death sentence

Much more qualified scholars have spilled a great deal of ink on this subject. For German speakers, Michael Sikora's excellent work, Disziplin und Desertion: Strukturprobleme militärischer Organisation im 18. Jahrhundert, provides an excellent baseline of understanding. Once again, Christopher Duffy is our leading light for Central-European armies, but he is now joined by Ilya Berkovich, whose outstanding new book, Motivation in War, devotes a chapter to this important subject.  André Corvisier has long provided a rough estimate for France, arguing that between 1700 and 1763, approximately 1/5th of all French troops deserted. Berkovich implies that this figure has been taken for an eighteenth-century standard too often.  Sylvia Frey and Glenn Steppler give excellent information for the British Army during the American War of Independence, while James H. Edmonson, Charles Royster, and Mark Lender contribute to this topic with regards to the Continental Army. So, without further adieu, how likely was an eighteenth-century soldier to desert?

Any sort of exact average figure, when dealing with multiple armies, over the course of the eighteenth century, is rather difficult. By way of a rough estimate, perhaps 11% of soldiers deserted, though that figure was much smaller during peacetime, and potentially greater in wartime.  However, it may be possible to venture a more accurate guess when figures are separated by era and army. At times, it is only possible to give a percentage of total losses. Thus, we will begin data from armies over long periods of time, and then move to figures connected with the Seven Years' War era, and move to the American War of Independence. Despite the problems connected with the datasets, it is possible to observe several trends. Ilya Berkovich gives the best summary of trends during this era, which I will quote here:

"[N]ew recruits and foreigners were more likely to desert than veterans and native-born soldiers. There were more deserters in wartime than in peacetime. Units on the march were particularly susceptible to desertion, as were regiments whose soldiers learnt that they were to be send abroad. Not unlike recruitment, desertion rates demonstrate correlations with economic conditions, or even particular months of the year. Finally, armies whose desertion figures were examined over a prolonged period reveal that peacetime desertion rates declined as the century progressed."[4]

The Prussian Army in peacetime

Longterm Desertion (years):

Prussian Army (1713-1740): 3.2% per year.

French Army (1716-1749): 4.4% per year

Saxon Army (1717-1727): 7% per year. 

Average:  4.9%  [5] 

The Battle of Krefeld 

Seven Years' War Era:

Hanoverian (Electorate of Hanover, not British) Army: 14%

Austrian Army: 6-7% per year or 20.49% of total losses  (circa 62,000 men)

Prussian Army: 18% Total
                            28% of total losses   (circa 70,000 men) 
Data from the Hacke Regiment indicates a desertion of  6% of regimental strength per year on average during the Seven Years' War.

French Army (estimate 1700-1763): 20%

Average: 17.3% [6]

Perhaps surprisingly, the British Army had a low rate of desertion 

American War of Independence Era:

British Army: Frey: 4% (circa 3,700 men) 
                       Steppler: 7-8%, with recaptures/reenlistments a net loss of 4.4%
Sylvia Frey: "[D]esertion was apparently not a significant problem."

French Army, 1780-1782 in North America only: "just over 5%"

Hessen-Kassel Army in North America: 11.5%

Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel Army in North America: 11.7% 

Continental Army: 15-25%.

Average: 12% [7]

Continental Army desertion was somewhat higher than this stalwart pose might suggest.

Let us analyze these figures. The Prussian army, oft-maligned as harsh and draconian, had lower figures than some of its competitors. The Continental Army, suffering frequent privations and battlefield reverses, suffered a great deal at the hands of desertion. Perhaps most surprising is the relatively low figures for the British army, and it should be noted, they are not exact. However, Frey and Steppler concur that desertion in the British army was "not the most serious drain on the army's manpower."[8]

In summary, the data seems to imply that desertion was often less common than we have been led to believe. Although, admittedly, desertion in this era was much greater than in the 20th century, when less than .5% of the U.S. army deserted in Vietnam. However, desertion was perhaps less of a problem then has previously been believed. It remained a headache for eighteenth-century commanders, as desertion could skyrocket in adverse circumstances, much like illness. In one campaign in 1744, Frederick II lost 15% of the entire Prussian army to desertion.[9] Rarely, however, do the figures support the longstanding belief that it was normal for more than 20% of an army to be lost to desertion during a campaign.[10] Ilya Berkovich has recently used this more developed figures to argue that lower rates of desertion and higher rates of retention could have implications for the motivations of soldiers in the eighteenth century. Inflated claims regarding desertion have long been a part of the "these soldiers were the scum of the earth" myth, and deserves to be evaluated in greater detail. Desertion was a scourge in the minds of eighteenth-century commanders, but perhaps not totally debilatating for eighteenth-century armies.

If you enjoyed this post, or any of our other posts, please consider liking us on facebook,  or following us on twitter. Finally, we are dedicated to keeping Kabinettskriege ad-free. In order to assist with this, please consider supporting us via the donate button in the upper right-hand corner of the page. As always:

Thanks for reading,


Alex Burns

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[1] J.A. Houlding, Fit for Service, v.
[2] See Sascha Möbius, Mehr Angst vor dem Offizier als vor dem Feind?: Eine mentalitätsgeschichtliche Studie zur preußischen Taktik im Siebenjährigen Krieg. 
[3] Christopher Duffy, Instrument of War, 201.
[4] Ilya Berkovich, Motivation in War, 59-60.
[5] Willerd Fann, "Peacetime Attrition in the Army of Frederick William I," 326-327.; quoted in Ilya Berkovich, Motivation in War, 58.
[6] Data comes from: Michael Sikora, Disziplin und Desertion : Strukturprobleme militärischer Organisation im 18. Jahrhundert, 74.;  Berkovich, Motivation in War, 77.; Duffy, Instrument of War, 212.; Duffy, Army of Frederick the Great, 85.; Daniel Krebs, A Generous and Merciful Enemy, 252.; Bagensky, Regiments Buch des Grenadiers Regiments koenig Friedrich Wilhelm IV., 79.; André Corvisier, L'Armee Francaise, 736-7.
[7] Data comes from: Sylvia Frey, British Soldier in North America, 72.; Glenn Steppler, "The Common Soldier in the Reign of George III," 189.; Samuel F. Scott, From Yorktown to Valmy, 103; Daniel Krebs, A Generous and Merciful Enemy, 251-252.; James Edmonson, "Desertion in the American Army during the Revolutionary War," pg. 217-261.
[8] Steppler, "The Common Soldier," 189.
[9] Duffy, Army of Frederick the Great, 84.
[10] Willred Fann, "Peacetime Attrition" 323.; Duffy, Military Experience in the Age of Reason, 172.

How Religious were Eighteenth-Century Soldiers?

Reenactors in Prussian Regiment Nr. 12, with their Feldprediger

Dear Reader,

Today, we are going to look at a question very near and dear to my heart. At a reenactment last weekend, sitting around the camp fire, I heard a reenactor loudly proclaim that he would not go to church parade, (a military formation/church service held on Sunday mornings) regardless of what the practice was in the eighteenth century. This post does not intend to get into modern religious debates: indeed, nor am I trying to force anyone to do anything against their conscience. However, with that statement rolling around in my head, I decided to give a cursory glance at the sources, with the following question in mind: How religious was the average soldier of European armies in the eighteenth century?

Although I cannot hope to answer this question in the statistical detail of my "average" soldier posts, I still thought that it might be worth a crack, as there is certainly some information regarding this topic available.  In answering the question, I am indebted, as usual, to the fine work of Christopher Duffy, as well as the writings of Michael Snape, Charles Royster, Caroline Cox, and Richard Gawthrop. Once again, I am truly standing on the shoulders of giants.

The only anecdotes of military-religious fatalism even approaching those of the Swedish and Russian armies, come oddly enough, from an army supposed by many in North America to be irreligious: the British Army in the 1740s. The rise of Methodism, described by Michael Snape in The Redcoat and Religion, created a swell of religious feeling in the British army during the War of Austrian Succession. The French military of the eighteenth century did not have an official chaplaincy, as a result of the Louis XIV's unwillingness to submit to papal authority. Rather, regimental commanders appointed their own chaplains, and were responsible for their pay. By contrast, Phillip V of Spain appointed a vicariate general of armies, who supervised the chaplaincy in 1705. Jean-Paul Bertaud asserts that in both cases, "Chaplains were not able to halt the de-Christianization of the armies."[15]

Would period soldiers have engaged in such debauchery?

With the caveat that religiosity and belief varied greatly from army to army, we can safely say that European and North American armies of the eighteenth century were incredibly religious. The remainder of the post will compare religious views across different armies, and attempt to "take the pulse," of religion in these armies. Perhaps unsurprisingly, soldiers in the earlier part of this era display fanatic levels of religious devotion, so we will start there.

A 19th Century depiction of Swedish Karoliner at prayer, by Gustaf Cederstrom

The Armies of the Great Northern War: Sweden and Russia

Both Swedish and Russian soldiers were fiercely religious in the early eighteenth century and directly applied their religious beliefs to their job as soldiers. A writer accompanying the Swedish army in Livonia during the Great Northern War noted that at the outset of an engagement, the Swedish commander:

“Count Lewenhaupt then addressing himself to the Lord of hosts and victories, ordered the prayers usual upon the like occasions; the cavalry alighting, and the whole two lines kneeling upon the field. The prayer ended with a verse taken from a hymn, which was echo'd by the whole army, and then the signal was given: with the help of God, and in the name of Jesus.”[1] 

Such sentiments were still clearly being expressed by men such as Leopold von Anhalt Dessau thirty years later. The religiosity of Swedish army did not apply only to the high command. If you peruse the enormous collection of Great Northern War era Swedish soldiers' writings published in 1913, letters such as the following are common:

“It was a great sorrow to behold the poor men, who were frozen by means of the slow march. Indeed, many a cavalrymen and dragoon sat frozen to death still on their horses. The day after, which was the 24th of December, the companies were surveyed, and each had 25 or 26 men found frozen, and regrettably, this forced the amputation of hands, legs and feet. There was more sorrow and sadness than one could believe. ...Blessed be the Lord my God, who has brought me warmly through so many dangers. Blessed be my God, in both good and bad times, in all times. Indeed, Eternal glory , thanks, and praise to my God, full of grace, goodness and mercy. To me, the proof is now evident that the day of my death is swift approaching. So, I ask you, my God, with a humble heart, full of grace, send your peace and blessing to me, remain with me, and allow me to abide with you forever. Oh my Lord God, hear and grant me this, for the sake of Lord Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit. Amen, Amen.”[2]

Such displays of military-religious fatalism were common in the Swedish army, but matched by the Russian army of the same era. From the writing of European observers, and the few diaries of the lower rank men who could write, we can see that military-religious myths arose in Russia, such as the belief that a man killed in battle would be brought to life again three days later in his native village.[3]

An Orthodox Priest blesses Russian soldiers in the Napoleonic Era

The Russian military planners often disregarded the dietary requirements of Eastern Orthodox soldiers, leading one western military observer to note that there were, “religious fanatics who preferred to die rather than take a meat broth.”[4] Peter I’s response was to make the religious soldiers eat by threat of force, whereas other generals obtained permission from the Holy Synod for their soldiers to abstain from the dietary requirements. This would seem to indicate that the religious nature of Russian military life came from inside the army, and was not forced on it by the state in hopes of creating a fearless body of soldiers.

These ideas remained in place in the Russian army for much of the century. Charles Immanuel Warnery, a Prussian cavalry officer, described the battle of Kunersdorf, where the Russian Corps of Observation was caught in a heavy artillery crossfire: “This respectable Corps, did not defend themselves, but instead lay on the ground, and allowed themselves to be massacred by thrusts of the bayonet, in the honor of St. Nicholas. “[5] In both the Swedish and Russian armies, then, observers noted an acceptance of the will of God, which applied to military affairs.

This British soldier, painted by Morier in the 1740s, 
was likely not a Methodist

Religion in Anglophone Armies: British and American Piety

British soldiers such as John Haime converted to the Methodism of John Wesley, and recorded intense bouts of religious emotion on the battlefield. At the Battle of Fontenoy in 1745, Haime recalled:

"The spring following, we took the field again : and on Mayllth,.l745, we had a full trial of our faith at Fontenoy. Some days before, one of our brethren, standing at his tent-door, broke out into raptures of joy, knowing his departure was at hand ; and, when he went into the field of battle, declared, 'I am going to rest in the bosom of Jesus.' Indeed, this day God was pleased to prove our little flock, and to show them His mighty power. They showed such courage and boldness in the fight as made the officers, as well as soldiers, amazed. When wounded, some cried out,  'I am going to my Beloved.[Christ]' Others, 'Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly!' And many that were not wounded earnestly desired  'to be dissolved and to be with Christ.' When W. Clements had his arm broken by a musket-ball, they would have carried him out of the battle ; but he said,  'No ; I have an arm left to hold my sword : I will not go yet.' When a second shot broke his other arm, he said, 'I am as happy as I can be out of paradise.' John Evans, having both his legs taken off by a cannon- ball, was laid across a cannon to die : where, as long as he could speak, he was praising God with joyful lips."[6]

From the perspective of 2017, such words might seem almost haunting, and some readers may doubt the sincerity of the men who wrote them. However, far from being the outlier, these types of sentiments abound in the writings of British soldiers who had joined Methodist societies. We cannot know with certainty how much of the army joined these societies, but indicators in the letters and memoirs consistently make Methodists out to be a sizeable minority. Methodist preacher John Wesley received a letter from soldiers at the front, describing the same battle, which expressed similar sentiments:

But we were all endued with strength and courage from God, so that the fear of death was taken away from us. We left our brother Mark Bend in the field; whether he be alive or dead we cannot tell; but the last of our brothers that spoke to him, after he was wounded, found him quite resigned to the will of God. We that he has spared a little longer, desire you to return thanks to God for all his mercies to us."[7]

Methodism would remain a force within the British army until 1815 and after; during the Peninsular War, Wellington expressed fears that Methodism was again on the rise, and requested Anglican chaplains to combat this sentiment.[8]Despite this, we should not assume that ALL British soldiers held these views, in fact, some commentators observe that the British were less religious than other eighteenth-century soldiers. A German Subsidientruppen from Ansbach-Bayreuth, Johann Dölha serving alongside the British army in the era of the American Revolution, recalled,"

The common English soldier is swift, marches easily...[w]hen they go against an enemy, they are fresh, optimistic, and do not worry about their life... The English keep their clothing very clean and have only the vices of cussing, swearing, drinking, whoring, and stealing, and these more so than other people.[9]

It would also seem that the British Soldier of the era got into some trouble

When specifically describing the British navy, Dölha informed his reader,  On the other hand, the seamen are a thieving, happy, whoring, drunken lot and much inclined to swearing and cursing people. They can hardly say three words without their curses ‘God damn my soul, God damn me…’ toward us they are rather rough, impolite, and rude."[10]

The British army, then, seems to have been a contradiction, with both fervently religious and more profane elements. This should not surprise us, it is quite likely that the British were simply more expressive of this contradiction, which existed in most eighteenth century armies. Another Anglophone army of the era, the Continental Army, was deeply religious, but perhaps less fatalistic than the Swedish, Russians, or Methodist Britons.

George Washington in prayer at Valley Forge, a later artist's reimagining

Charles Royster argues that religious language was one of the primary ways through which Continental Army soldiers understood the world.[11] Preachers followed the Continental Army, and frequently distributed religious literature to soldiers, who eagerly lapped up any insights from the gospel on their current situation. British army officers believed that religious thinking had led the colonies to war in the first place.[12] Especially during the early war, religion mattered a great deal to the Continental Army. Even army officers from supposedly more secular areas of North America, such as the Chesapeake region, frequently used religious injunctions in their orders.[13] Coming out of the harsh winter at Valley Forge, George Washington ordered May 6th to be a day of thanksgiving for providential protection.[14]

French Soldiers of the Seven Years' War Era, Don Troiani

Armies of the Catholic Powers: Austria, Spain, and France


The Austrian army possessed an official chaplaincy, and as a result of the work of Christopher Duffy, we know a good deal more than we otherwise might. In the mid-century, the average Austrian chaplain was 39 years old, with five years of service under his belt.[16] The Austrian chaplains "exercised a considerable moral authority over officer and man alike." [17]

Considering the Austrian Empire's  status as a polyglot religious state, we should not be surprised that many Austrian soldiers were openly Eastern Orthodox or secretly Protestant. Only a chaplaincy for Catholics existed, but the army regulations indicate that: "Religion is something you should never speak about. Rather it is something you should strive to live by. Upon pain of severe and unfailing punishment, we forbid any behavior which may create ill-feeling between those of different faiths."[18] The Austrian army managed to keep its soldiers fighting together, despite the religious, ethnic and politic divisions holding them apart. Such an achievement is truly remarkable. 

Menzel's Reimagining of a Prussian Infantry Chaplain

The German Protestants: Prussia and the Western German States

There were deep, heartfelt religious motivations among many of the common soldiers and officers fighting in German Protestant armies in the eighteenth century. In places as diverse as modern Poland and upstate New York, soldiers in Protestant German armies could be heard singing hymns as they marched into battle.[19] Most of these armies also contained numerous Feld-Predigers, or chaplains, who ministered to the men, and occasionally made rousing speeches on the day of battle.

Hessian soldiers such as Dölha complained about the lack of religious feeling in British soldiers and even deployed religious complaints about slavery in North America. August von Dinklage, a Lt. Colonel of a Hessian grenadier battalion,  he thought that the whites used religion to mistreat African slaves. Dinklage believed that the animal-like treatment of the blacks was, "to the shame of so-called Christians." He went on to say, "it is a sad sight when one views these people, who in their capacities and the quality of their intelligence yield nothing to the whites, sold like cattle in the market to the highest bidder."[20] The Hessians brought their chaplains with them to North America, and many of those chaplains recorded their thoughts on the young United States. Unlike many eighteenth-century armies, the Prussian army contained ministers of Catholic, Calvinist, and Orthodox faiths, in addition to the official state sanctioned Lutheranism. [21] The Lt. Colonel of the Brunswick Prinz Friedrich Regiment, Christian Julius Prätorius, allowed his Catholic soldiers to attend mass separately from the rest of his men.[22]

Many men of an earlier generation, such as Leopold von Anhalt Dessau, were rough Christian soldiers of a simple, childlike faith. Though Leopold was an effeciency-minded reformer, he nonetheless possessed a firm, gruff sense of religion. His order to attack at the Battle of Kesselsdorf was a simple, "In Jesus Nahmen marsch!" (In Jesus name, forwards!).[23] He and men like him were consistently in conflict with the more intellectual officers of the Prussian army, and both added a necessary ingredient in Prussian success.

Richard Knötel's depiction of  the Old Dessauer at Kesselsdorf

So, for most eighteenth-century Protestant German soldiers, religion was a moderating force, which provided cohesion, stability, and occasionally empathy. An observer noted of a Prussian regiment at prayer:

"you could imagine nothing more elevating than to see this band of heroes, who make provinces and kingdoms tremble, bow down before the Almighty. The generals, the officers, and the rank and file stand in a circle around the preacher, who makes his altar out of two drums, and they all pray to Lord with bowed heads."[24]

Frederick II was a deist, not an atheist 

Non-belief in Eighteenth-Century Armies

As better and more famous historians than I have noted, measuring non-belief before the twentieth century is indeed a difficult proposition.[25] What we can say with certainty is that members of the upper classes expressed Deistic ideas. Frederick II, himself a deist, was not afraid to resort to theistic language in order to inspire his troops. At one point, he and General Seydlitz were listening to one of these religious speeches, and Frederick commented on the religious language: "That's just for the baggage drivers!"[26]

In the Austrian service, despite the incredibly high level of religious devotion among the rank and file, many officers were less devout.  Describing a particular brand of young Austrian officer, a commentator noted that, "few of them have religious beliefs, and they scorn those who harbour them..."[27] Still- despite the efforts on modern atheists (such as Christopher Hitchens on Thomas Jefferson) to read back atheist into the eighteenth century, real atheism was quite rare, if not unheard of. Frederick II strongly defended the deist position against atheism in the later years of his reign.[28]

In summary: despite being "the age of reason," in a military context, the European eighteenth century was a highly religious place. Although the highest echelons of society may have espoused deism, most ordinary soldiers remained extremely devout. Although Christian religious belief in Europe was quite diverse, most states still divided their official military-religious ceremonies along sectarian lines. A few North German states such as Prussian and Brunswick were making small strides in the areas of military-religious freedom.

If you enjoyed this post, or any of our other posts, please consider liking us on facebook, or following us on twitter. Finally, we are dedicated to keeping Kabinettskriege ad-free. In order to assist with this, please consider supporting us via the donate button in the upper right-hand corner of the page. As always:

Thanks for Reading,


Alex Burns


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[1]Gustavas Adlerfeld, The Military History of Charles XII, Vol 2, 138.
[2]August Quennerstedt, Karolinska Krigares Dagböcker Jämte Andra Samtida Skrifter., Vol 3, 232.
[3] Christopher Duffy, Russia's Military Way to the West, 135.
[4]C. J. Ligne, Oeurves Choisies (Paris, 1890), 73.
[5]Charles-Emmanuel De Warnery, Campagnes De Frédéric II, Roi De Prusse: De 1756 à 1762 (1788), 312.
[6] Thomas Jackson eds, The Lives of the Early Methodist Preachers, Vol 4, 137.
[7] John Wesley, The Works of John Wesley, Vol 2, 37.
[8] Richard Holmes, Redcoat, 117. 
[9] Dölha, A Hessian Diary, 71-2
[10] Ibid, 15. 
[11] Charles Royster, A Revolutionary People at War, 18. 
[12] Ibid, 19. 
[13]P. Benson de Lany, "Biographical Sketch of Robt. Kirkwood," Graham's Magazine, vol 28, pg 104.
[14] Royster, A Revolutionary People, 250-4. 
[15] Michel Delon eds, Encyclopedia of the Enlightenment, 1247. 
[16] Christopher Duffy, Instrument of War, 344. 
[17] Duffy, Army of Maria Theresa, 133. 
[18] Reglement für die sämmentlich-kaiserlich-königliche Infanterie, (1769), 60. (Duffy's Translation.) 
[19] Alexander Burns, Honor, Religion, and Reputation, MA Thesis, Ball State University, 25. 
[20]Landesbibliothek Kassel, 4̊ Ms. hass. 186, Tagebuch des Obrist Lieutenants von Dinklage 1776-84. fol 202.
[21] Duffy, The Army of Frederick the Great, 208.
[22]Lt. Colonel Christian Prätorius to Karl I of Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel, NdsStA Wf, 38 B (Alt 237), Acta Militaria.
[23] Duffy, Army of Frederick the Great, 245. 
[24] Ibid, quoted on page 207. 
[25] Jon Butler, Awash in a Sea of Faith, 20. 
[26] Kalckreuth, 'Kalckreuth zu seinem Leben und zu seiner Zeit' , Minerva, Vol IV, 144. 
[27] Duffy, Instrument of War, quoted on page 187. 
[28] Duffy, Army of Frederick the Great, 207. 

How Hard was Daily Work for Eighteenth-Century Soldiers?

Reenactors portraying a soldier and sergeant prepare for a work detail

Dear Reader,

Despite the agreeing with Matthew Spring's assessment that the "the ultimate purpose of all armies is to fight," the life of the soldier includes many army-related tasks that do not involve combat.[1] Rather than give some sort of numerical average, this post attempts to examine daily work in the armies of the eighteenth century and provide a picture pieced together from a number of qualitative sources. Assuming that the army was not marching or fighting a battle, what might daily life look like?

Usually, the day would begin quite early. The Prussian regulations indicate that reveille was beaten when visibility reached forty paces. In some armies, soldiers would immediately fall in for accountability formation, to make sure that no one had deserted during the night. After role was called on a campaign, the mess group would immediately begin to perform its daily tasks. In a peacetime garrison, the whole body of men might perform drill after cleaning their uniforms and equipment, depending on the day of the month.[2]

A Seven Years' War era NC Provincial officer assigns his dejected soldiers yet more work.

Daily work depended greatly on context and environment. Let us first examine the setting of a military campaign, and then turn to peacetime garrison. Usually, a large portion of the mess group would be assigned to manual labor, such as cutting wood, or digging and hauling earth. One member of the mess group might be detailed for food preparation. The army frequently sought out soldiers with particularly useful trades such as cobblers, tailors, carpenters, and masons (stoneworkers), and bricklayers.[3] Soldiers were often paid slightly more for work details. Unlike peacetime garrison duty, there was relatively little "free time" in the campaign setting. Regiment von Itzenplitz private Ulrich Braeker described the nature of daily work, giving a blow by blow of the Kameradschaft's duties: 

One man cleaned his musket, another did laundry, the third cooked, the fourth mended breeches, the fifth [repaired] shoes, the sixth cut wood... each tent had its six men and one extra, among these seven, one always had to be clean and prepared. Of the six remaining, one went on guard, one cooked, one fetched provisions, one gathered wood, one went after straw, one handled paperwork.[4]

Corporal Douglas cleans his musket

There were, of course, exceptions to this. If the army was granted a rest day after a long march, the men would be relatively free to move about the camp, provided they did not attempt to leave the picket lines. Once again, Braeker gives us an excellent account of this type of freedom outside Pirna in 1756: "With exception of the watch, everyone could do as he pleased, bowling, horse-play, in and around the camp."[5]  Fires were often extinguished at sunset, and a special squad of guards was detailed to be sure that noise was kept to a minimum after sundown.

The author constructs fascines at the July 2017 Fort Niagara siege event

In the course of a siege, the daily workload of a soldier, especially in the besieged fortress, would greatly increase. Officers noted the tiring natures of sieges and all the, "various chores necessitated by siege operations."[6] In the final stages of a siege operation, it was common for the defenders to go without sleep entirely. Soldiers would work in various states of dress. During the 1759 siege of Fort Niagara, a French sortie encountered a number of British soldiers, "naked to the waist."[7]

The relative ease of peacetime garrison

Peacetime garrison, by contrast, was a relatively free environment. After officers called the roll, and performed drill if required, soldiers were free to spend their afternoons working in the civilian sector or taking their ease. Depending on the army and year, soldiers might have lived in a fortress or barrack room, or have been quartered on the civilian population. Civilians and officers complained that soldiers grew idle and fat in peacetime service:

If the peace continues very long, I may live to see the foot [infantry] of England carried in waggons from quarter to quarter, for with their vast size and the idleness they live in, I'm sure they can't march... soon [a soldier] is incapable of wielding anything more than his musket. His hands become as delicate as a young girl, and are no longer equal to gripping a spade or pick.[8]

Reenactors at the 2016 Siege of Yorktown

  This polemic author seems to be exaggerating. Other observers took a decidedly different view. In late-eighteenth-century Prussia, a traveler found off-duty soldiers, "without uniform of any kind, dirty, uncombed, some even without their breeches, going about just as they pleased. There are soldiers on every street corner, pursuing every means of employment imaginable."[9], Ulrich Braeker portrays a quite similar scene in the 1750s:  "hundreds of soldiers occupied themselves loaded and unloading merchant's wares, while the timber-yards were full of toiling warriors."[10]

In conclusion, whether or not the army was on campaign, the life of soldier could be quite busy. Unless on a rest day, or during an afternoon lull in fortress garrison service, eighteenth-century soldiers worked industriously at the business of war, or if in an urban setting, contributed a ready workforce to the economy.

Feel free to share if you know individuals who might find the post interesting. 

Thanks for Reading,

Alex Burns 

[1] Spring, With Zeal and With Bayonets Only, xi. 

[2] Duffy, Army of Frederick the Great, 80. 

[3] Campbell, The Royal American Regiment, 136. 

[4] Braeker, Der Arme Mann von Toggenburg, 143. 

[5] Ibid.
[6] Pouchot, Memoirs of the Late War, 211
[7] Ibid, 234. 

[8] Hawley, "General Hawley's Chaos," JSAHR, XXVI, 93. 

[9] Guibert, Journal D'un Voyage En Allemagne, 166. 

[10] Braeker,Der Arme Mann von Toggenburg, 121. 

Parade Expectations and Campaign Realities: The Paradox of Kabinettskriege Warfare

Modern Reenactors portray soldiers moving on parade (left) and on campaign (right)

Dear Reader,

This post springs up out of a series of thoughts and conversations (both online and in person) that I have had over the last few days. What did eighteenth-century warfare look like? Did large regiments of men in restrictive clothing, locked arm in arm, advance to the beat of drums under the terrible gaze of their officers? Or did soldiers' fight in a manner which was logical at the time?  At first glance, it may seem as though two different strains of soldier existed in the eighteenth-century. Reenactors, Television, and even historians seem to display two distinct types of soldier: the 'clockwork' soldier and the 'effective' soldier. 

With the reintroduction of cadenced marching and the slow geometrical maneuvers of linear warfare, it may seem as though soldiers in the eighteenth-century were plodding automata, or what some historians, including John Lynn, have called, "the clockwork soldier." In this view, the soldier marches with no great haste towards the enemy, and on the orders of his feared officers, performs the route motions of drill on the battlefield. Indeed, John Houlding has criticized the eighteenth-century British army for its relative lack of realistic training. According to popular belief, these soldiers were hampered by cumbersome uniforms, parts of which even made it more difficult for soldiers to breathe and fight. By the logic of this school of thought, eighteenth-century warfare seems to have unfolded much like drills on the parade ground. In the video below, you can see soldiers demonstrating the more formal aspects of the Prussian drill manual. The German transcriptions are not entirely accurate.

  On the other hand, historians such as Matthew Spring point to a different set of realities of warfare in the eighteenth century: that soldiers were capable moving swiftly, adapting to tactical realities, and that junior officers both exercised sound judgment and developed a positive working relationship with their men. Iyla Berkovich has suggested that many eighteenth-century fighting men were highly motivated. Reenactors and historians in this school often point to the numerous adaptations and modifications to uniforms and tactics made by soldiers in the era. In this model, men on the march and in combat made rational and effective decisions based on the realities of their wartime service. In the video below, you can see Prussian reenactors demonstrating a maneuver meant to be used in the midst of battle.

Infuriatingly, both of these schools have evidence and rationale to back up their opinions. However, this is where historians must look carefully at the type of evidence utilized. By and large, the clockwork soldier school uses prescriptive evidence: drill manuals, regulations, and military treatises. On the other hand, the effective soldier school uses descriptive evidence: orderly books, diaries, and letters. In other words, the clockwork soldier school often uses advice given out before and during wartime, while the effective soldier school often employs descriptions of events written during and after conflicts.  It swiftly becomes clear that with such evidence, both schools must have some ring of truth, even if as a historian, I find the descriptive evidence more convincing. 

Let us take a case from the army often cited as having the most "clockwork" tendencies in the eighteenth century: the Prussian army. If you examine the Prussian drill manual of 1750, there are a myriad of examples describing the clockwork soldier. Prussians are to load in their muskets in a multitude of tiny steps, they are never permitted to fire as individuals, only as platoon-sized elements, and the maneuvers are carried out with geometric precision. Soldiers are to be punished for minor infractions of military dress, and large appendices cover the complicated and formal clothing of soldiers. However, the effective soldier school replies: what actually happened? 

Descriptive sources from Prussian soldiers talk about firing as individuals in the confusion of battle, and even describe daily orders in which soldiers wear reduced clothing in violation of the drill manual.[1] Violence on the battlefield, then, looked different for Prussian soldiers than marching on the drill square. It is hard to imagine the 8th Regiment moving fifty miles a day in the rural midwest while maintaining parade level discipline. How can we account for these differences? 

Some historians have attempted to answer the question via the North American/European divide, arguing that for various reasons (terrain, lack of cavalry, individualism, 'national character', etc) soldiers in North America were effective soldiers, while those in Europe remained clockwork soldiers.  This alone cannot explain the difference, because, as I suggested last month, the Prussian army developed quick battlefield maneuvers. Christopher Duffy describes European soldiers moving "almost at a run" during the battles of the War of Polish Succession in the 1730s, and Peter Paret, Jim McIntyre, and others have suggested that light infantry doctrine emerged in Europe, not North America.[2]

The obvious answer to this problem is that context matters a great deal. Parade ground maneuvers took on a decidedly clockwork feel, as some of the same soldiers who examine the effective choices made in the field described.[3] Officers and men who experienced frontline combat and then observed peacetime reviews often criticized such maneuvers as ridiculous.[4] Much like the army today, the importance of close order drill, traditional uniforms, and military discipline mattered a great deal, because they taught important skills to eighteenth-century soldiers. However, once in a combat or campaign environment, those clockwork ideas were quickly replaced by a need for military effectiveness. Obviously, there was never a perfect split between these two realms. But, as soldiers moved further away from garrison life and into the maelstrom of combat, some of the formality of eighteenth-century warfare seems to have fallen behind. 

As historians write about the wars of the eighteenth century, and reenactors portray it to the public, great care must be given to the exact context of what is being described and portrayed. Confusing battlefield practices and parade ground maneuvers is a fatal mistake. 

Thanks for Reading,



Alex Burns

[1] Braeker, Der Arme Mann im Tockenburg, 164; Hoppe, "A Truthful Description", 7.
[2] Duffy, Military Experience in the Age of Reason, 203, McIntrye, British Light Infantry Tactics,1-5

[3] Braeker, Der Arme Mann im Tockenburg, 140-5. 

[4] Cornwallis, Correspondence, Vol I, 212.