15. Heroes and Villains of French and Indian War: Final Military Operations and the Siege of Havana

My Name is Sir George Pocock: Admiral of the British Navy

I was born in 1706 in Thames Ditton, Surrey, into a family with ties to the sea. From my earliest days, the water called to me, and at a young age I entered the Royal Navy. The life of a midshipman was harsh, but it built the discipline and endurance that I would carry throughout my career. The sea became my true home, and I rose step by step, learning the ways of both ship and battle.

First Commands and Experience

In my early years of command, I sailed across the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, gaining skill in both navigation and the handling of men. Service during the War of Jenkins’ Ear and the War of the Austrian Succession gave me my first taste of real combat. The lessons of those years were simple but harsh: command required courage, judgment, and the ability to stay calm when the guns roared and the decks ran red.

The War in India

When the Seven Years’ War broke out, I found myself sent to the East Indies, where Britain and France clashed for dominance. In the waters off India, I commanded British fleets against the French admiral Comte d’Aché. Our battles were fierce, indecisive at times, but they kept French influence in check and allowed Britain to strengthen its position on the subcontinent. These campaigns tested my endurance as much as any, for the heat, disease, and long months away from home weighed heavily on crews and officers alike.

Called to the Caribbean

By 1762, my reputation as a steady commander brought me a new challenge. Britain sought to strike at Havana, the crown jewel of Spain’s Caribbean empire. I was chosen to lead the fleet that would blockade the port and deliver the army safely to shore. It was a massive responsibility, for the Spanish held one of the strongest harbors in the world. The fleet under my command carried thousands of troops and the weight of Britain’s hopes for a decisive victory.

The Siege of Havana

Our arrival off Cuba marked the beginning of a difficult campaign. My duty was to maintain the blockade, cut off reinforcements, and batter the Spanish defenses from the sea. The heat and tropical storms challenged even the hardiest sailors. Coordinating with Lord Albemarle on land, we brought our firepower against the fortress of El Morro. For weeks, we exchanged shot and shell, until finally the walls fell and the defenders were overcome. On August 13, 1762, Havana surrendered. It was one of the greatest naval victories of the war, though it came at great human cost.

Later Years and Honors

After Havana, I returned to Britain to honors and recognition. I had been knighted in 1761 for earlier service, but the success at Havana brought me greater fame. I retired from active command not long after, satisfied that I had given my strength and years to the navy that had shaped me. My remaining decades were spent quietly, far from the noise of the guns and the salt of the sea.

My Legacy

I passed away in 1792, at the age of eighty-six. My life had been devoted to Britain’s rise as a global naval power. From India to Cuba, I had commanded fleets in some of the most distant waters of the world. Though others may be remembered for their daring, I was remembered for my steadiness—a sailor who brought victory through discipline, patience, and resolve.

Britain’s Global War Strategy in 1762 and Targetting Havana – Told by Sir Pocock

The year was 1762, and Britain was engaged in a struggle unlike any it had ever faced before. The Seven Years’ War stretched across continents, from the forests of North America to the plains of Europe, from the waters of India to the islands of the Caribbean. It was truly a global conflict, and Britain sought to strike wherever its navy could carry the fight. Our strength lay upon the sea, and with it we aimed to choke the lifelines of our enemies, France and Spain.

Spain Joins the War

For much of the war, Spain had remained on the sidelines, but by 1761, through the Family Compact with France, it threw its lot against Britain. This changed everything. Spain’s empire stretched across the Americas, filled with ports, treasure fleets, and colonies ripe with wealth. The British government knew that to bring Spain to the negotiating table, we needed to deliver a blow so severe that Madrid would think twice about continuing the fight.

The Choice of Havana

When the ministers met to discuss strategy, Havana stood out as the most tempting and dangerous prize. It was the heart of Spain’s Caribbean possessions, a key port for the treasure fleets, and a fortress city that controlled the passage into the Gulf of Mexico. If Havana fell, Spain’s trade and naval power in the region would collapse. Yet it was no small undertaking. The city was heavily defended, and the climate was as deadly an enemy as any Spanish soldier. Still, the potential reward outweighed the risks.

The Orders Given

I was called upon to lead the fleet that would carry the army across the Atlantic and blockade the Spanish stronghold. Alongside me was Lord Albemarle, who would command the land forces. The orders were clear: take Havana, cripple Spain’s Caribbean power, and use the victory as a lever in the negotiations that would one day end the war. I knew the task would demand every ounce of strength from my sailors, but I also knew that Britain’s empire would be judged by its boldness.

A Calculated Gamble

The decision to target Havana was not made lightly, for every mile of ocean between Britain and Cuba was filled with danger. Yet in 1762, boldness was the spirit of our strategy. The conquest of Havana was meant to prove that the Royal Navy could strike at the very heart of our enemies’ empires. It was a gamble upon which Britain staked its pride, its future, and its hopes for victory in a global war.

Planning the Naval Expedition from Portsmouth to Caribbean – Told by Sir Pocock

When the decision was made to strike at Havana, the first task was to assemble a fleet worthy of the challenge. Portsmouth harbor became a scene of ceaseless activity, as ships of the line, frigates, and transports were gathered together. Carpenters, sailmakers, and dockyard crews worked day and night to prepare the vessels for the long voyage. Each ship had to be inspected, rigged, and provisioned for a journey across the Atlantic and for the unknown trials awaiting in the Caribbean.

The Burden of Supplies

The sheer scale of the expedition was staggering. Thousands of soldiers had to be transported, along with guns, powder, tents, tools, and food. We loaded barrels of salted meat, ship’s biscuit, rum, and water to sustain both sailors and soldiers. Medical chests were prepared, for disease was often more deadly than the enemy. Engineers brought equipment to build siege batteries, and even horses were loaded into cramped stalls on the transports. Every detail had to be accounted for, for once we left Portsmouth there would be no turning back for what we had forgotten.

The Selection of Men

Choosing the right officers and sailors was as vital as the ships themselves. Many of my men were veterans of campaigns in the East Indies or North America, seasoned in long voyages and the hardships of war. Discipline had to be strict, for an expedition of this magnitude could falter if order broke down. I consulted closely with Lord Albemarle, for the coordination between fleet and army would determine whether we succeeded or failed.

The Routes and Timing

We studied charts and planned our course carefully. The Atlantic was wide, and storms could scatter a fleet in days. Timing was everything. If we arrived too late in the season, the hurricanes would threaten us. If we lingered too long in port, the Spanish might learn of our plans. Secrecy was paramount, and so we prepared to depart under a shroud of silence, slipping from Portsmouth with little fanfare despite the great enterprise before us.

A Sense of Purpose

As the ships filled the Solent and the sails began to unfurl, I felt the weight of command upon me. This was not a mere patrol or blockade, but one of the largest expeditions Britain had ever attempted. Each ship represented a piece of our nation’s strength, and every sailor and soldier aboard looked to me for direction. The voyage to the Caribbean had begun in our minds long before the anchors were raised, planned with care and burdened with hope, for we knew we were sailing to shape the fate of empires.

The Strength of the British Fleet and the Challenges – Told by Sir George Pocock

The fleet assembled for the Havana expedition was one of the most formidable that Britain had ever sent into the western seas. It included ships of the line armed with scores of heavy guns, frigates swift enough to chase down any Spanish craft, and transports carrying the manpower for a siege. Each vessel represented not only firepower, but also the might of an empire that now stretched across oceans. To see them at anchor, their masts rising like a forest, was to witness the strength of Britain’s naval supremacy.

The Strain of Numbers

Yet strength brought its own burdens. To carry so many soldiers alongside sailors required an enormous balancing act. Warships were not designed for comfort, and when crammed with troops, conditions became harsh. Space was limited, and tempers could flare easily in the close quarters below deck. On the transports, men were packed tightly, sleeping in hammocks strung one above another, with little privacy and even less relief from the heat once we crossed into warmer waters.

Weapons and Siege Materials

The power of our fleet did not lie only in guns mounted on ships, but in what we carried for the army ashore. Heavy cannons, mortars, and endless supplies of powder and shot filled the holds. The problem was not in bringing them, but in keeping them safe and dry. A single storm or leak could ruin the stores, and with them the success of the campaign. Every barrel had to be secured, every crate lashed against the rolling of the sea.

Disease and Morale

The greatest danger to our force was not always the enemy, but the invisible threat of sickness. So many men confined together created the perfect breeding ground for fever. We took precautions where we could, ensuring the men aired their bedding and kept to strict routines, but I knew from years at sea that illness could sweep through a ship faster than cannon fire. Maintaining morale was as important as guarding supplies, for weary and sick men were poor soldiers when the time came to fight.

The Burden of Command

Commanding such a fleet required more than issuing orders; it demanded constant vigilance. A breakdown in coordination could scatter ships across the Atlantic, or a shortage of food could sap the will of the troops before we ever reached Cuba. My task was to hold this great machine together, to ensure that the strength of the fleet did not become its weakness. We carried the pride of Britain upon the waves, and with it the hopes of striking a decisive blow against Spain.

Arrival at Cuba: Securing Landing Sites Near Havana – Told by Sir George Pocock

After weeks at sea, the island of Cuba rose from the horizon, green and vast under the Caribbean sun. For many of the men, it was their first glimpse of the New World, but for me, it was a reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. Havana was our target, but to reach it we first had to put ashore thousands of troops and secure ground from which to launch the siege. The Spanish knew we were coming, and every mile of coastline might hold danger.

Choosing the Landing Ground

We studied the approaches carefully. Havana itself was too well defended to risk a direct landing, so our eyes turned to the eastern side, near Cojímar and the coast beyond. The beaches there were less fortified, giving us a chance to disembark without facing immediate cannon fire. Still, the waters were shallow in places, and reefs threatened to dash our boats to pieces if we were careless. Every decision had to balance speed with caution, for surprise was as valuable as any musket.

The Landing of the Army

At dawn, the boats were lowered and filled with red-coated soldiers, their muskets and packs clutched tightly as the oarsmen rowed them toward the sand. The transports stood further out to sea, while the warships formed a screen to guard against Spanish counterattack. I watched from the quarterdeck as wave after wave of men reached the shore, splashing through surf to secure the beachhead. It was a moment of relief when the first banners were planted in Cuban soil without serious opposition.

Securing the Coastline

Once ashore, the troops moved quickly inland to drive off Spanish patrols and secure the surrounding ground. Meanwhile, my sailors landed supplies—barrels, shot, and heavy guns hauled awkwardly through the sand. The beach became a hive of activity, with soldiers digging shallow entrenchments and engineers marking out paths for the artillery to be moved forward. The success of the landing gave us a foothold, but I knew the Spanish would not leave us unchallenged for long.

The Opening of the Campaign

With the coast secured, the army began its march toward Havana, and my ships shifted to provide covering fire where needed. The landing had been achieved with remarkable efficiency, a testament to the discipline of the men and the coordination between fleet and army. Yet as I looked inland at the thick forests and the rising heat of the Cuban summer, I knew that this was only the beginning. Havana lay ahead, guarded by walls, fortresses, and men who would fight to the last to defend their city.

Establishing the Naval Blockade and Cutting Off the Spanish – Told by Sir Pocock

Once the army was established on Cuban soil, it became my duty to ensure that Havana could not be relieved by sea. Spain relied upon its ships to carry supplies, reinforcements, and messages across the Caribbean. If even a single fleet broke through, our siege might fail. Thus, the blockade was not merely a supporting action; it was the shield that made the entire campaign possible.

Positioning the Fleet

I placed my ships carefully, spreading them like a net across the approaches to Havana. The great harbor had only one main entrance, and there I stationed my strongest vessels. Beyond that, I extended patrols along the coast and into open waters, ensuring no Spanish sails could slip by unnoticed. The frigates, fast and sharp, became the eyes of the fleet, ranging outward to scout for danger or prey. Each position had to be chosen with care, balancing strength against mobility.

Watching for the Enemy

For weeks, my men scanned the horizon, ever alert for the faintest speck of canvas that might betray an approaching squadron. The tropical skies could change in an instant, and storms sometimes scattered our patrols, but discipline kept the fleet steady. Whenever a strange sail appeared, the alarm would rise, and ships would swiftly move to intercept. The knowledge that Spain might attempt to send aid at any time kept us vigilant day and night.

Choking Havana’s Lifeline

The blockade began to take its toll. Merchantmen bound for Havana were seized and brought under our guns. Supplies that might have fed the garrison instead filled our stores. With each week, the Spanish defenders grew more desperate, their harbor sealed and their trade severed. I knew that every day the blockade held, the walls of Havana grew weaker without a shot being fired.

The Strain of the Watch

Yet it was not an easy task. The Caribbean sun scorched the decks, and provisions had to be rationed carefully. My sailors suffered from heat, thirst, and sickness, but they bore it with the endurance of men who knew their task was vital. The blockade demanded constant readiness, for one lapse could undo months of effort. To hold the line against the sea itself was as great a challenge as any battle.

The Isolation of the City

By sealing Havana’s harbor and patrolling its waters, we cut the city off from the world. The Spanish within had no hope of escape, no chance of relief. The noose had been drawn tight, and with every passing tide, Havana was left more isolated. It was then that I knew the victory would come, not only from the guns of our army but from the patient strength of the fleet that denied the enemy all hope of aid.

My Name is George Keppel, Earl of Albemarle: Havana Expedition Commander

I was born on April 26, 1724, into a noble English family with strong military traditions. My father, William Anne Keppel, the 2nd Earl of Albemarle, served as a soldier and statesman under King George II. I grew up in a world of privilege, yet one where service to crown and country was expected. From an early age, I was shaped to be both a gentleman and a leader.

Military Beginnings

My career in the army began in my youth, following the path of so many sons of nobility. I quickly rose in rank, serving in the Guards and learning the craft of soldiering in Europe. It was during the War of the Austrian Succession and later in the Seven Years’ War that I began to earn recognition, proving my ability to lead men in difficult conditions.

Path to Leadership

By the 1760s, Britain’s global war against France and Spain had expanded across the seas. When the decision was made to strike at Havana, one of the richest ports in the Spanish Empire, I was appointed to command the land forces. It was a tremendous responsibility, for the Caribbean was far from home, and the Spanish defenders were determined. I knew that success or failure would weigh heavily on my name and legacy.

The Havana Campaign

In 1762, I set sail alongside Admiral George Pocock with a powerful fleet and a large body of troops. Landing on Cuban shores was no easy task, but once ashore, we moved swiftly to surround Havana. The heat, the disease, and the unfamiliar terrain wore at my soldiers, but we pressed on. Our greatest challenge was the mighty fortress of El Morro, guarding the harbor. For weeks, we dug trenches, built batteries, and endured counterattacks. At last, after a bloody struggle, the fortress fell. The death of the Spanish commander, Luis Vicente de Velasco, marked the turning point. Soon after, Havana itself surrendered, and the city was in British hands.

Aftermath and Rewards

The victory at Havana was celebrated across Britain. The spoils captured were immense, and I received great honors for my role in the campaign. Yet war is never without cost. Thousands of soldiers and sailors had perished, many not from battle, but from fever and hardship. Though we had triumphed, I often reflected on the sacrifices made beneath the Caribbean sun.

Later Years and Legacy

After Havana, I continued to serve my country, but the campaign became the defining moment of my life. I carried the title of a successful commander, and with it came both prestige and responsibility. My life ended in October 1772, at the age of 48, not upon a battlefield, but after years of service to crown and empire. I left behind the memory of a man who seized Havana for Britain and secured a place in the great tapestry of the Seven Years’ War.

Deployment of British Troops Under My Command – Told by George Keppel

When we first set foot upon Cuban soil, I felt the full burden of command upon my shoulders. Thousands of soldiers looked to me for orders, and every step they took had to be measured and deliberate. This was no skirmish on the fringes of empire; it was one of the greatest expeditions Britain had ever attempted. Each man, from the grenadiers in the vanguard to the engineers with their tools, needed to be placed where he could contribute to the siege that lay ahead.

Forming the Lines

My first task was to arrange the regiments into their proper divisions. The Highlanders, fierce and eager, were placed where the advance required strength and determination. The regular line regiments, steady and disciplined, formed the backbone of the force. Alongside them marched colonial troops and marines, each unit with its own role. The artillery, with their heavy guns, followed in careful order, for their fire would be vital against the Spanish fortifications.

Securing the Camps

Once the men were marched inland, we established camps in positions that allowed both defense and readiness to strike. The camps had to be laid out with precision, for disease could spread quickly in disorder. Trenches were dug, sentries posted, and supplies distributed. Engineers marked the ground where future batteries would be raised, while the soldiers rested under canvas, preparing for the hard labor to come.

Cooperation with the Navy

My deployment of troops was done with constant thought of the fleet behind us. Admiral Pocock guarded the seas, but it was my duty to guard the land. I arranged my forces so that the soldiers remained in contact with the coast, ensuring supplies from the ships could flow steadily inland. At the same time, pickets and scouts were sent forward to watch the enemy’s movements and prevent any surprise attacks.

Readying for the Siege

Every soldier knew the work ahead would test his strength more than the march inland. The deployment was only the beginning; soon they would be called to dig trenches under the blistering sun, haul guns across rough ground, and storm walls defended with fire and steel. As I looked across the ranks, I felt pride in their discipline and resolve. We had come far across the ocean to fight, and in that moment, I knew they were ready to endure what lay ahead.

Early Skirmishes Around Havana’s Outer Defenses – Told by George Keppel

As our army advanced toward Havana, the Spanish defenders did not remain idle behind their walls. They sent out small bands of soldiers and militia to harass our movements and test our strength. These first encounters were sharp and sudden, breaking the stillness of the Cuban countryside with musket fire and the clash of steel. For my men, it was a reminder that though we had landed safely, the road to Havana would not be uncontested.

The Spanish Resistance

The Spanish soldiers fought with a stubborn bravery, using the terrain to their advantage. They knew the fields, the forests, and the paths better than we did, and they struck at our pickets, ambushed supply lines, and forced us to stay ever watchful. Their aim was not to defeat us outright, but to slow our progress and sap our confidence before we reached the outer fortifications of the city.

The British Response

To counter these tactics, I ordered light infantry and Highlanders to take the lead in patrolling and clearing the way. Their agility and discipline made them well suited for these sudden fights. Time and again, they drove the enemy back, pressing forward with bayonets fixed and spirits high. Each skirmish taught us more about the land and the determination of our foes, but it also hardened the resolve of our soldiers.

The Strain on the March

The heat, the swarms of insects, and the constant threat of ambush weighed heavily on the men as much as the musket fire itself. Marching in full gear through the thick air of Cuba was punishment enough, and to be roused suddenly into combat tested their endurance further. Yet they bore it with the grit of veterans, knowing that every step brought us closer to the walls of Havana.

Gaining Ground

Though the Spanish fought with determination, our numbers and discipline gradually pushed them back. With each skirmish won, we moved nearer to the fortresses that guarded the city. By driving the enemy into retreat, we cleared the ground on which we would lay our siege works. These early clashes did not decide the campaign, but they prepared us for the greater struggle ahead, where walls and cannon would test us even more than muskets in the field.

Engineering and Logistics: Digging Trenches & Building Batteries – Told by Keppel

Once we had secured the ground before Havana, the real labor of the siege commenced. Battles were fought not only with musket and bayonet but with shovel and spade. My engineers marked out the lines where trenches would run, zigzagging toward the Spanish defenses. The men bent themselves to the task, hacking at the hard earth and hauling soil under the unrelenting sun. It was backbreaking labor, yet every foot gained by trench and earthwork brought us closer to breaking the walls of the enemy.

Building the Batteries

Alongside the trenches, platforms were raised for our heavy guns. These batteries had to be constructed with precision, for the cannon needed firm ground to withstand their thunderous recoil. Timber was cut, earth piled high, and embrasures shaped to give our gunners clear aim at the fortresses. Each gun dragged into place felt like a triumph, for every piece of artillery was a weapon that could chip away at Havana’s mighty defenses.

The Burden of the Climate

The tropical climate proved as punishing as the enemy. The heat was suffocating, and men dropped in exhaustion after hours of toil. Torrential rains sometimes turned the trenches into rivers of mud, washing away the work of days. Disease spread easily in the damp air, felling men who had never once faced a musket ball. I could see the toll it took on them, yet the army persevered, for they knew that without these works, we could never hope to breach the Spanish walls.

Coordinating Men and Materials

Logistics became as vital as courage. Tools had to be distributed, powder kept dry, and food carried forward to sustain the laborers. Horses and mules hauled timber and stone, while sailors lent their hands to the work when soldiers grew weary. The siege required not only force but endless organization, and I spent as much time ensuring the steady flow of supplies as I did directing soldiers in the field.

The Slow Advance

As the days passed, the trenches crept closer to the enemy’s lines, and the batteries grew stronger. Every inch gained was paid for in sweat and blood, yet it was the only path to victory. The men came to understand that this war of spades and gun carriages was no less heroic than any charge with the bayonet. It was through their labor in the sweltering climate that the walls of Havana would one day tremble before our guns.

The Assault on El Morro Fortress and Coordination with the Navy – Told by Keppel

The fortress of El Morro dominated the entrance to Havana’s harbor, its guns commanding the waters and its walls rising high above the shore. To leave it standing was to leave the city protected, so it became clear that our campaign would hinge on its capture. Every man in the army and navy understood that until El Morro fell, Havana could not be ours.

Preparing the Attack

My engineers worked tirelessly to bring the trenches closer, while the artillery crews readied their guns to pound the fortress day after day. At the same time, Admiral Pocock maneuvered his ships to batter El Morro from the sea, combining our firepower in a relentless effort to weaken its walls. Communication between land and sea was constant, for success required perfect coordination. Signals were agreed upon, and messengers carried word back and forth between my camp and the fleet.

The Naval Barrage

The navy’s bombardment thundered across the bay, their broadsides shaking the stone walls of the fortress. Yet the Spanish gunners fought with remarkable skill and courage, returning fire and striking at our ships with deadly precision. I watched from the shore as masts splintered and smoke clouded the water, but still our sailors pressed the attack, giving the army the chance to move closer under cover of their guns.

Storming the Fortress

When the walls at last showed signs of collapse, the order was given to storm El Morro. My soldiers, weary from weeks of digging and fighting, advanced with bayonets fixed. They faced a hail of shot and fire as they climbed the breaches, but they did not falter. The struggle on the ramparts was fierce, with men fighting hand to hand amidst the smoke and rubble. Courage carried the day, though it came at a heavy price in blood.

Victory at a Cost

At last the Spanish defenders were overwhelmed, their commander, Luis Vicente de Velasco, mortally wounded in the battle. His fall broke the spirit of resistance, and the fortress was ours. Yet the victory was not one of triumph alone. Many brave men lay dead or wounded, both on the walls of El Morro and in the fleet that had battered it from the sea. Still, its capture opened the way to Havana, and it marked the turning point of the campaign.

The Decisive Breach and Capture of El Morro in July 1762 – Told by George Keppel

By July, the long weeks of bombardment had left El Morro scarred and weakened. My engineers identified the precise point where the walls had begun to crumble, and our guns were trained to widen that wound until a breach could be forced. Soldiers readied ladders and fascines, and the sappers marked the paths that would lead the storming parties to the fortress gates. The men knew the attack would be brutal, but they also knew it was the only way forward.

The Breach Opens

On the morning of the assault, the guns thundered in unison, tearing great stones from the fortress wall. At last, the defenders’ bastion gave way, and a jagged breach opened in its side. The signal was given, and our troops surged forward. The roar of cannon gave way to the cries of soldiers as they scrambled over rubble and broken earth, their bayonets glinting in the sunlight.

The Struggle Within the Walls

Once inside the breach, the fighting grew desperate. Spanish defenders met us with musket fire, grenades, and steel, determined to drive us back. The clash was hand to hand, man against man, amidst the choking dust and smoke. The Highlanders pressed fiercely, while grenadiers forced their way through with relentless determination. Every step forward was won by blood, but slowly we gained ground within the fortress.

The Fall of the Defenders

Among the Spanish stood their valiant commander, Luis Vicente de Velasco. He fought with a courage that inspired his men, but he was struck down during the defense. His fall broke the spirit of resistance, and though his soldiers continued to fight, their lines wavered. By the day’s end, El Morro was no longer in Spanish hands. The flag of Britain was raised above its shattered walls, and the guns that once commanded Havana now served our cause.

The Turning Point

The capture of El Morro marked the decisive moment of the campaign. With the fortress breached, Havana lay exposed and vulnerable. The men cheered at the victory, though it came at a heavy cost in lives. For me, it was the moment I knew the city would soon be ours. The breach of El Morro in July 1762 was not only a triumph of arms, but a symbol of endurance, showing what could be achieved by discipline, resolve, and sacrifice.

My Name is Luis Vicente de Velasco: Defender of Havana

I was born in 1711 in Noja, a small town in northern Spain. My upbringing was humble compared to many officers of my time, yet from an early age I was drawn to the sea. Spain’s navy offered both adventure and honor, and I entered service as a young man, eager to defend my country and to rise through courage and skill.

Naval Career and Service

In the Spanish Navy, I proved myself in the wars of the mid-eighteenth century. I fought against the Barbary corsairs and the enemies of Spain across the seas. My service was marked by discipline and bravery, and over the years I gained the trust of my commanders and the respect of my sailors. The navy became more than a career to me—it was my duty, my life’s purpose.

Called to Havana

In 1762, when Britain launched its great expedition against Havana, I was stationed in the city and entrusted with the defense of El Morro Castle, the fortress that guarded the entrance to the harbor. It was a position of immense responsibility, for the safety of the entire city depended upon its walls holding firm against the British assault. I knew the strength of the enemy fleet, but I also knew the determination of the men under my command.

The Defense of El Morro

When the British attacked, we fought them relentlessly. For weeks, we endured constant bombardment from land and sea. Cannon thunder shook the fortress, and the air was filled with smoke and cries of the wounded. Yet we held on. Time and again, my men repelled assaults, and I walked among them to give courage, sharing in their dangers and hardships. Even as the walls crumbled, our spirit did not.

My Final Battle

On July 30, 1762, during a furious attack, I was struck by a cannonball while commanding the defense. The wound was mortal, yet I refused to abandon my post until the end. My men carried me from the walls, but I knew my time was short. I gave my final orders and entrusted the defense of Havana to those who remained. Within days, I succumbed to my wounds, dying in service to Spain and to my honor as a naval officer.

My Legacy

Though El Morro fell and Havana was lost, I was remembered not for defeat but for courage. King Charles III later honored me posthumously, declaring that my sacrifice embodied the spirit of Spain. My name was carried into legend, a symbol of steadfast resistance against overwhelming odds. I died at Havana, but I lived on in the memory of my people, a sailor who gave his life for duty and country.

The Defense of El Morro Fortress and My Leadership Role – Told by de Velasco

When the British fleet appeared off Havana, I was entrusted with the defense of El Morro, the fortress that guarded the harbor. I knew well what this responsibility meant, for El Morro was the key to the city. If it fell, Havana itself would stand exposed. My orders were clear: hold the fortress at all costs. I accepted this duty with pride, for I believed it was my destiny to serve Spain in its hour of peril.

Strengthening the Defenses

At once, I set my men to work strengthening our positions. Cannon were repositioned, ammunition stored in readiness, and every soldier drilled to his post. We knew the enemy’s power, and we understood that their guns would soon bring ruin upon our walls, but preparation gave us confidence. I reminded the men that courage, discipline, and faith in God could stand against even the mightiest assault.

Facing the Barrage

The bombardment began, and for weeks we endured it. Shot and shell rained down upon El Morro, shattering stone and timber, yet the men remained at their posts. I moved among them, giving orders, offering encouragement, and sharing in their hardships. The smoke choked our lungs, the heat of the Caribbean sun beat upon our heads, and still we loaded and fired. The enemy’s fleet and batteries were relentless, but so too was our determination.

Holding the Morale

As days turned into weeks, the strain upon the garrison grew heavy. Food grew scarce, the wounded filled our quarters, and the dead lay where they had fallen. Still, I urged my men to resist. I told them that every hour we held El Morro was an hour gained for Havana, an hour that proved Spain would not yield easily. I made it my duty not only to command, but to stand as an example. If I asked my soldiers to endure hardship, I would endure it beside them.

Defiance Against the Odds

The British pressed closer, their trenches creeping toward us, their fire pounding ever harder. Yet even as the walls cracked and the breaches widened, we did not surrender. We sallied forth when we could, striking at their works, showing them that Spaniards would not be cowed. My role was not merely to direct the defense, but to keep alive the spirit of resistance. In those long days at El Morro, leadership meant sacrifice, and sacrifice meant giving everything for Spain.

The Spanish Counterattacks to Dislodge the British – Told by de Velasco

Though El Morro was strong, I knew that a fortress cannot stand by walls alone. The British crept ever closer with their trenches and batteries, and if we merely endured, they would grind us down. To defend Havana, we had to show that we could strike as well as endure. Thus, I resolved to send my men against their siege works, to harass them, to slow their progress, and to remind them that Spain still fought with fire in her heart.

Sallies from the Fortress

In the dead of night or at the first light of dawn, small groups of soldiers would pour from the gates of El Morro, muskets in hand and blades at the ready. We rushed the trenches, setting fire to their works, seizing tools, and scattering their laborers. At times, our cannon fired in support, shaking the ground with thunder as our men pressed the attack. These sudden strikes were dangerous, but they kept the enemy off balance and forced him to guard his lines closely.

The Ferocity of the Fighting

The British resisted fiercely, for they were determined to hold their ground. Skirmishes erupted at the edges of their camps, where musket fire cracked in the smoke and cries echoed in the humid air. Many of my soldiers fell in these actions, but each counterattack forced the enemy to halt his digging, to rebuild his defenses, and to reconsider his advance. For every life lost, hours were gained, and those hours gave Havana a chance to breathe.

The Spirit of My Men

What gave me pride was not only the success of these counterattacks, but the spirit with which my men carried them out. They were weary, hungry, and wounded, yet when called upon, they did not hesitate. They marched out with determination, knowing that every thrust against the enemy was a service to Spain. I stood among them when I could, for a commander must share the dangers of his soldiers if he expects them to follow him into the fire.

The Cost of Resistance

Our counterattacks could not turn back the tide entirely, but they showed the enemy that we would never yield without a struggle. We bled for every foot of ground, and though the British pressed on, their victory would not come cheaply. These efforts kept alive the honor of Spain and proved to the world that Havana was not surrendered in silence, but fought for with courage and sacrifice.

My Mortal Wounding During the Defense and My Legacy – Told by de Velasco

The morning of July 30, 1762, dawned with smoke already hanging heavy in the air. The British guns had battered El Morro through the night, and I knew that the final assault would soon come. My men were exhausted, but still they stood ready on the ramparts. I took my place among them, for it was my duty as their commander to face whatever came at their side.

The Moment of the Blow

When the enemy surged forward through the breach, the fighting grew desperate. I moved from post to post, directing fire, steadying the lines, and calling out words of encouragement. Amid the roar of musketry and the crash of cannon, a ball struck me with terrible force. Pain consumed me, but I refused to be carried away at once. I demanded to remain where I could still be seen, for the men needed to know their captain had not abandoned them in the hour of trial.

Command Until the End

Though my wound was grievous, I continued to give orders as long as breath remained. The defenders fought on, inspired not by my strength, but by my determination to endure beside them. At last, my body failed me, and I was borne away from the walls. Even then, I asked only that the fight continue, that my men hold El Morro as long as possible, even if I would not live to see the end.

My Final Hours

I lingered but a short while after the wound. In those last moments, I felt no shame. I had given all that I could for Spain and for my king. To die at my post, in the defense of Havana, was the highest service I could render. My only regret was that I could not see my men through to victory, but I knew they would remember that their commander fell where honor demanded he stand.

The Legacy I Leave

Though El Morro was lost and Havana surrendered soon after, my name lived on as a symbol of steadfast courage. In Spain, my sacrifice was honored, and the crown declared that I had upheld the dignity of the nation. To this day, I am remembered not for defeat, but for devotion to duty. My legacy is this: that a man’s honor is not measured by whether he wins or loses, but by the courage with which he faces the trial placed before him.

The Morale of Havana’s Defenders and Civilians – Told by de Velasco

From the first thunder of the British guns, the people of Havana lived under a shadow. The civilians heard the constant bombardment, saw the smoke rising from El Morro, and felt the ground tremble with each strike. Fear spread through the streets, for none could be certain how long the city would endure or what fate awaited if it fell. Yet alongside that fear was a stubborn hope, a belief that Spain’s defenders would hold as long as honor required.

The Courage of the Soldiers

The garrison suffered greatly, yet their morale held firm for many weeks. Even as food ran short and the wounded crowded our quarters, the men did not abandon their duty. They fought with a grim determination, encouraged by the knowledge that their struggle delayed the enemy and upheld the dignity of Spain. Each man knew the odds were against us, yet their courage did not falter, for they trusted in their officers and in the walls that sheltered them.

The Strain on the People

For the civilians, the siege brought hunger, illness, and despair. Markets stood empty, and families huddled in their homes, praying for deliverance. Still, many gave what they could to support the soldiers, offering water, tending to the injured, and carrying supplies where they were needed. Their endurance was quieter than that of the soldiers, but no less noble. The city itself became a battlefield of patience, where every day of survival was a victory.

Faith as Strength

In those darkest hours, faith became a lifeline. Priests moved among the people, offering prayers and blessings, reminding all that God watched over us even in the storm of war. The sound of bells calling for prayer mingled with the thunder of cannon, and for a moment, hearts were steadied. Faith gave courage to the fearful and strength to those whose bodies were failing.

The Spirit of Defiance

Though fear and hardship weighed upon Havana, the spirit of defiance never fully broke. Soldiers and civilians alike whispered that even if the city should fall, it would not fall in shame. We had resisted with every measure of our strength. That belief—shared in the barracks, in the churches, and in the homes—was the fire that sustained morale through the long days of smoke and fire. It was this spirit that gave Havana its honor, even in defeat.

The Eventual Collapse of Organized Resistance in Havana – Told by de Velasco

As the siege dragged on, the strain upon Havana’s defenders grew heavier with each passing day. Our numbers dwindled, our powder stores ran low, and the walls that once promised safety now bore deep scars from constant bombardment. Men who had stood bravely for weeks began to falter under the relentless pressure. I saw in their eyes the weariness of soldiers who had given all they could and knew the end was near.

The Fall of El Morro’s Shadow

The loss of El Morro Fortress was more than a tactical defeat—it was a wound to the heart of Havana’s defense. Without its guns to command the harbor, the city lay exposed to the British fleet. The fall of that bastion carried with it a sense of inevitability, for everyone understood that the strongest shield had been broken. The defenders fought on, but the hope of holding Havana slipped from our grasp.

The Erosion of Order

What followed was not an immediate collapse, but a slow unraveling. Regiments that had once marched with perfect discipline now struggled to keep their ranks filled. Civilians, desperate for food and shelter, pressed upon the soldiers for relief. Officers did what they could to maintain order, but exhaustion and hunger are enemies as powerful as cannon fire. The spirit of resistance remained, but it grew scattered, no longer united under a clear command.

The Final Stand

Even in those last days, there were moments of defiance. Small groups of soldiers held positions with remarkable bravery, firing until their powder was gone. Yet these stands were isolated, no longer part of a greater plan. The British pressed forward steadily, tightening their grip, and the defenders had no strength left to push them back. Organized resistance gave way to fragments of courage, scattered across the city.

The End of the Struggle

At last, the realization came to all: Havana could fight no longer. The defenses had crumbled, the soldiers were spent, and the people could endure no more. What remained of the resistance dissolved, not in cowardice, but in exhaustion. We had fought until nothing was left to give. In the silence after the final shots faded, the city passed into enemy hands, and with it, the long struggle ended.

My Name is Juan de Prado: Governor of Cuba

I was born in 1716 in Spain, raised in a world where loyalty to the crown and service to the empire were expected of men of my standing. From a young age, I pursued a military career, training as a soldier and officer. My years of service in Europe during the War of the Austrian Succession gave me experience in command, though they also revealed the challenges of maintaining order and discipline within an army stretched across distant lands.

Rise Through the Ranks

As the Spanish Empire grew strained under the weight of global wars, officers like myself were called to greater responsibilities. I earned the trust of my superiors by proving my ability to carry out orders with diligence and loyalty. By the middle of the eighteenth century, I had risen steadily, my career shaped by years of service to Spain in both peace and war.

Appointment to Cuba

In 1761, I was appointed governor of Cuba, a position that placed upon me the weight of responsibility for one of the richest and most vital ports in the Spanish empire. Havana was not just a city; it was a lifeline of wealth and power, the key to Spain’s trade routes in the Caribbean. My duty was to protect it against all threats, and though I knew its defenses were strong, I also recognized its vulnerabilities.

The Siege of Havana

In 1762, Britain struck. Their fleet, massive and well-prepared, arrived on our shores, and with it came thousands of soldiers determined to take the city. I oversaw the defense as best I could, directing reinforcements to El Morro fortress and trying to sustain morale among the garrison. Yet the British blockade cut us off, and disease began to spread through our ranks. The loss of our valiant commander, Luis Vicente de Velasco, after he fell mortally wounded at El Morro, was a heavy blow. When the fortress collapsed, our situation grew desperate. Despite the courage of my soldiers, we could not hold against the overwhelming assault. On August 13, I surrendered Havana to the British.

Aftermath and Consequences

The fall of Havana was a severe humiliation for Spain and for me personally. I was taken back to Spain, where I faced a court-martial for the loss of the city. I was convicted and imprisoned, my years of service tarnished by the verdict that I had failed in my duty. Though I had done all that I could with the men and resources available to me, history would remember me as the governor who lost Havana.

My Legacy

I lived until 1770, carrying the weight of disgrace and reflection on my shoulders. Though I believed I had fought with determination and loyalty, the empire demanded a scapegoat for the loss of one of its jewels, and that scapegoat was me. My life stands as a reminder of the crushing responsibilities borne by commanders, where honor and blame often rest not on effort, but on the outcome of war.

The Strategic Weakness of Havana’s Defenses Before the Siege – Told by de Prado

Havana was the crown jewel of Spain’s Caribbean holdings, the gateway for treasure fleets and a key link in the empire’s trade. Its harbor was deep and well-protected, and its fortresses—El Morro and La Punta—were thought to be formidable guardians. Yet beneath this surface of strength lay vulnerabilities that worried me when I assumed command as governor. Wealth and prestige had made Havana a prize, but complacency had left its defenses less secure than they appeared.

Neglect and Overconfidence

For years, confidence in Havana’s natural advantages dulled the urgency to improve its fortifications. The city relied too heavily on its reputation as an impregnable port, and the crown in Madrid often delayed or limited funds for new works. Plans for stronger defenses existed, but resources were diverted elsewhere in the empire. By the time war came to our shores, many of these improvements remained unfinished or poorly maintained.

Shortage of Troops

The garrison was smaller than the city required. Though brave, the soldiers stationed in Havana were too few to man all the walls and batteries effectively. Reinforcements from Spain or New Spain were slow to arrive, leaving us with militia and volunteers to fill the ranks. These men showed spirit, but they lacked the training to withstand the discipline of a seasoned enemy force. I knew that against Britain’s massive expedition, our numbers were inadequate.

Gaps in the Fortifications

El Morro was strong, yet its position left parts of the coastline exposed. Other outlying defenses were either incomplete or poorly armed, giving the enemy places to land without immediate challenge. The landward side of the city, less fortified than the harbor approaches, was particularly vulnerable. I recognized this weakness, but with limited time and resources, we could not erect the works necessary to close every gap.

The Weight of Responsibility

As governor, I understood that Havana’s glory made it both a prize and a target. I did what I could to strengthen the city, but I also knew that we were unprepared for the scale of attack Britain might unleash. The weaknesses were not born of cowardice, but of neglect, overconfidence, and the vastness of Spain’s empire, which left Havana with less support than it deserved. When the British fleet appeared on the horizon, these vulnerabilities became all too clear, and I bore the weight of defending a city not fully ready for war.

The Struggles to Maintain Supplies & Manpower in a Blockade – Told by de Prado

When the British fleet spread across the entrance to Havana, our lifeline to the sea was cut. No ships could enter with food, gunpowder, or reinforcements, and none could escape to seek aid. The blockade turned the harbor, once the busiest in the Caribbean, into a prison. Our stores had to last, and every ration was measured with care, yet I knew from the beginning that scarcity would soon gnaw at both soldiers and civilians.

Food and Water Shortages

Grain and salted meat, once abundant, dwindled quickly. The heat of Cuba spoiled what little fresh provisions we had, and water became foul in the casks. Civilians grew restless, and soldiers marched to their posts with hunger dulling their strength. I tried to organize the fair distribution of food, but as the siege dragged on, complaints rose, and the sight of thin faces in the city weighed heavily on me.

The Toll of Disease

As food weakened the body, sickness struck harder. Fever swept through the ranks, claiming more lives than the enemy’s shot. The hospitals overflowed, and many men who might have stood on the walls were lost to illness instead. Doctors and priests did what they could, but the combination of hunger, heat, and infection was merciless. Every soldier lost to disease left another gap along the defenses.

Strained Manpower

Our garrison had been too small from the start, and now attrition thinned it further. I called upon the militia and even the civilians to shoulder some of the burden. Men untrained for war carried supplies, guarded posts, or labored at repairs to the battered fortifications. Their spirit was admirable, but it could not replace the discipline of seasoned soldiers. Every skirmish, every bombardment stretched our manpower thinner, until holding all the lines became nearly impossible.

A Governor’s Dilemma

Each day of the blockade became a struggle between duty and despair. I walked among the people and the soldiers, encouraging them as best I could, but I saw the truth in their eyes. Supplies dwindled, men weakened, and the blockade grew tighter with every passing tide. I bore the responsibility for them all, yet I could not conjure ships to break the British lines or food to fill empty bellies. It was in those days that the weight of command pressed most heavily upon me, for I was charged with holding a city that could no longer sustain itself.

The Surrender of Havana to the British on August 13, 1762 – Told by Juan de Prado

By early August, it was clear to all within Havana that our strength was spent. The fall of El Morro had stripped the city of its strongest shield, and the British pressed closer each day. The walls bore the scars of endless bombardment, the soldiers were gaunt from hunger, and the civilians, weary and afraid, looked to me for hope I could no longer give. Every report I received spoke of dwindling powder and failing morale. The city had reached the end of its endurance.

The Moment of Decision

On the twelfth of August, I gathered my council. We debated fiercely whether to continue the fight or to seek terms. Some argued that honor demanded we hold until the last man, but I saw no sense in sacrificing lives needlessly when the outcome was certain. The city had no food left to sustain its people, no reinforcements to lift the siege, and no walls that could withstand another assault. I resolved, with a heavy heart, that surrender was the only course left.

The Terms Offered

The British, confident in their victory, demanded control of Havana, its fortresses, and its harbor. They knew well the value of what they had won, and their terms were firm. I secured what protections I could for the civilians, urging that they be treated with fairness despite the conquest. To save the lives of those who remained and preserve the dignity of Spain as best I could, I affixed my name to the articles of capitulation.

The Formal ActOn the thirteenth of August, 1762, Havana passed into British hands. The gates were opened, and their banners were raised over the city. Soldiers marched in triumph, while my own men laid down their arms in silence. For me, it was the bitterest of moments, watching the city entrusted to my care delivered to the enemy. The sound of drums and the sight of foreign flags above Havana’s walls are memories that will never leave me.

The Burden of Defeat

Though the city had fallen, I carried the blame. In Spain, I would be judged not by the courage of the defenders nor the odds we faced, but by the simple fact of loss. Yet I know in my heart that we resisted as long as human strength allowed. The surrender of Havana was not the failure of its soldiers or its people, but the result of an enemy too strong and a fortress too neglected. Still, the shame of signing away Havana remains the heaviest burden of my life.

Loss of Havana and Caribbean Trade Disruption – Told by Juan de Prado

The fall of Havana struck Spain with the force of a thunderclap. For centuries, the city had been regarded as the keystone of our empire in the New World, the safe harbor for fleets and the hub of commerce between Europe and the Americas. Its capture by Britain was not only a military loss but a blow to Spain’s pride. Across the empire, whispers spread that if Havana could fall, no Spanish port was beyond danger.

Disruption of the Treasure Fleets

Havana was the heart of the treasure system, the gathering place for the fleets that carried silver and goods across the Atlantic. With the city in enemy hands, the rhythm of this trade collapsed. Ships could not safely enter the harbor, and the usual flow of wealth that sustained Spain’s coffers was suddenly interrupted. The loss weakened not only Havana but the financial lifeblood of the crown itself.

The Strain on the Caribbean

Without Havana, Spain’s hold over the Caribbean wavered. Other islands and ports, once secure under the shadow of its fortress, now stood vulnerable. Merchants feared to send their cargoes, and colonial officials struggled to reassure their people. Smugglers and privateers thrived in the chaos, preying upon the weakened Spanish routes. The disruption spread like a wave, unsettling every corner of the region.

Diplomatic Reverberations

The capture of Havana gave Britain immense leverage in the negotiations that followed. It demonstrated their ability to strike at the core of our empire, and it forced Spain to bargain from a position of weakness. Havana became a pawn in the larger game of diplomacy, a bargaining chip that reminded all of Europe that Spain’s empire was no longer unassailable.

The Burden of Responsibility

For me as governor, the consequences were deeply personal. The loss of Havana meant not only the disruption of trade and the weakening of Spain’s empire, but also disgrace upon my own name. I had failed to keep safe a city that symbolized Spain’s power. The Caribbean trembled from the loss, but I bore the weight of it most heavily, knowing that history would remember my governorship as the one that ended in catastrophe.

The Exchange of Havana for Florida in the 1763 Treaty of Paris – Told by de Prado

Though Havana had fallen to the British in 1762, its loss was not permanent. When peace negotiations began, the city became the central piece in the bargaining table. Spain demanded its return, for without Havana the empire’s grip on the Caribbean would be fatally weakened. Britain, knowing the immense value of what it held, agreed to restore the city—but only in exchange for Florida. Thus, by the Treaty of Paris in 1763, Havana was given back to Spain, while Florida passed into British hands.

A Costly Trade

To many, this exchange was seen as a humiliation. Florida, though less wealthy than Havana, was a land of strategic value, guarding approaches to the Gulf of Mexico. By ceding it, Spain admitted the price of recovering its Caribbean jewel. The empire had been forced to trade land for survival, and the loss was a reminder that even the mightiest realms could be forced into concessions.

The Broader Balance of Power

The exchange of Havana for Florida was not merely a matter between Britain and Spain; it altered the balance of power across the Americas. Britain extended its dominion in North America, gaining new footholds for trade and settlement, while Spain tightened its hold once more on Havana. Yet the war had shown that no fortress was beyond Britain’s reach, and the myth of Spanish invulnerability was broken.

Ripples Across the Empire

The Treaty of Paris reshaped empires around the globe. France ceded territories, Britain stood ascendant, and Spain struggled to recover from the blow to its pride and commerce. Havana was saved, but the price was high, and the lesson was bitter. The world had entered a new age in which sea power could decide the fate of nations, and Spain, once supreme, now stood in the shadow of Britain’s rising strength.

The Judgment of History

For me, the return of Havana did little to ease the shame of its loss under my watch. Though Spain regained her jewel, it was only by surrendering another province. To the world, the Treaty of Paris confirmed what the siege had revealed: that Spain’s empire was no longer unchallenged. The exchange of Havana for Florida became a symbol of shifting power, a mark of the global struggle that reshaped nations and empires alike.