This day (November 8th) was a terrible one. We were late at our halting-place, and, as we were supposed to reach Smolensk the following day, the hope of getting food and rest, and the rumour that we were to go into cantonments there, inspired many of our men to superhuman exertions, in spite of the frightful cold and every kind of privation.
Before reaching the place for bivouac, we had to cross a deep ravine and climb a hill. Some artillerymen of the Guard had stopped in the ravine with their guns, quite unable to get up the hill. The horses were entirely spent, and the men's strength gone. They were accompanied by some gunners of the King of Prussia's Guard; they had been through the campaign with us, attached to our artillery as a Prussian contingent. They had made their bivouacs by the side of their guns, lighting their fires as best they could, and hoping to continue their way in the morning. Our regiment and the Chasseurs were on the right of the road. I believe these were the heights of Valoutina, where a battle had been fought on August 19th that same year.
I was on guard at Marshal Mortier's. His quarters were a barn without a roof. A hasty shelter had been put up, however, to keep out the snow and cold as much as possible. Our Colonel and the Adjutant-Major were there also. We tore some wood off the fence to make a little fire for the Marshal, at which we could all warm ourselves. We had hardly settled down to cook a piece of horseflesh, when a man appeared, his head tied up in a handkerchief, his hands swathed in rags, and his clothes burnt. He cried out as he came up:
'Ah, Colonel, how miserable I am! I am suffering terribly!'
The Colonel turned round, asking him who he was, where he came from, and what was the matter with him.
'Ah, Colonel,' he said, 'I have lost everything, and I am frightfully burnt.'
The Colonel then recognised him, and said:
'That was your own fault; you should have kept with the regiment. You have disappeared for several days. What have you been doing? You ought to have shown an example, and been ready, like us, to die at your post. Do you understand, sir?'
But the poor devil did not hear or understand, and this was not the right time to lecture. The man was the officer we had saved from the fire at the barn, and who was supposed to possess a great many gold and precious things taken at Moscow. He had lost everything, however; his horse and his belongings had all gone. The Marshal and the Colonel began to talk of the fire, and of several officers who had perished there with their servants. As they knew I had been present, they asked me for details of the disaster, as the officer we had saved could say nothing—he was too much overcome.