Day was just breaking, when a sound of artillery put a stop to our talking. We went back to our own quarters, hoping to meet again.
The poor fellows little thought that in a few days eleven of them would not be alive.
This was the 28th. We expected to fight, but the Russian army retreated, and the same day we got to Witebsk, where we stayed a fortnight. Our regiment occupied one of the faubourgs of the town.
I was quartered with a Jew, who had a pretty wife and two charming daughters with lovely oval faces. In this house I found a little vat for making beer, some barley, and a hand-mill for grinding, but no hops. I gave the Jew twelve francs to get some, and for fear he might not return we kept Rachel his wife and his two daughters as hostages. However twenty-four hours after his departure Jacob the Jew returned with the hops. In our company was a brewer, a Fleming, who made us five barrels of excellent beer.
On August 13, when we left the town, we still had two barrels of beer left; we put them under the care of Mother Dubois, our cantinière. The happy idea then occurred to her of staying behind and of selling the beer for her own profit to the men who were following us, while we, in the sweltering heat, were nearly dead of thirst.
Early on the morning of the 16th we arrived before Smolensk. The enemy had just retired there, and we took up our position on the Champ Sacré, so called by the natives of the place. This town is surrounded by very strong walls, and old towers, half made of wood. The Boristhène (Dnieper) runs on one side of the town. The siege was begun at once and a breach made, and on the morning of the 17th, when we were preparing to make an assault, to our surprise we found the town evacuated. The Russians were retreating, but they had demolished the bridge, and from a height which commanded the town they rained down bombs and shot on us.
During that day of the siege I, with one of my friends, was stationed at the outposts whence batteries were playing on the town. Marshal Davoust commanded this position. Recognising us as belonging to the Guard, he came to us and asked where the Imperial Guard was. Directly afterwards he was told that the Russians had left the town, and were advancing in our direction. He immediately ordered a battalion of Light Infantry to take the advanced position, saying to the officer in command, 'If the enemy advances you will drive them back.' I remember an old officer of this battalion, as he went forward, singing Roland's song:
'Combien sont-ils? Combien sont-ils?
C'est le cri du soldat sans gloire!'[13]
Five minutes afterwards they advanced with the bayonet on the Russian column, and forced it to re-enter the town.
As we returned to our own camp, we were very nearly killed by a shell; another fell on a barn inhabited by Marshal Mortier, and set it on fire. I recognised among the men who brought water to extinguish the fire a young soldier from my own country; he was in a regiment of the Young Guard.[14]