Next day we arrived before Pamplona, where we lay for some time. One night we were ordered under arms at twelve o’clock; the report was, that Pamplona was to be stormed. We marched until day-break, then drew up in a hollow in the rear of the town, when we got orders to fall back to our old camp ground. Soon after we were relieved by a division of Spanish, and marched towards the Pyrenees, where we soon fell in with our old play-fellows the French, and had a very severe skirmish in the front of the village of Maya. The regiment was divided into two columns; the right commanded by Major Walker, the left by Major M‘Kenzie. We remained under arms all night, the French keeping up their fire. Next morning we forced them over the heights, into their own country, in style; then encamped. Fatigue parties were called to make rows and rain-works. Our two rear companies were appointed to move to the heights in the rear, upon the first alarm, and maintain them while a man should remain. The signal was three great guns; on the report of the first of which every man was to stand to his arms. One day we sent out a fatigue party, to cut wood to make arm-racks. They were not come back when a gun was fired. We stood to our arms, making ready to engage. It was a false alarm. Our fatigue parties were out for forage, and we were busy cooking, when the signal was given on the 25th July. The two rear companies, moved to the heights, the rest of the regiment to the alarm post, where we had work enough upon our arrival. The French were in great force, moving up the heights in solid column. We killed great numbers of them in their advance; but they still moved on. We were forced to give way, and continued thus to retire, maintaining every height to the last, contesting every foot of ground. At length we were forced to the height where our old quarter-guard used to be posted. We maintained our position against them a considerable time; during which, we had the mortification to see the French making merry in our camp, eating the dinner we had cooked for ourselves. What could we do? they were so much superior in numbers.
I have often admired the bravery of the French officers. This day, while I was in the rear-guard, covering the retreat, about two dozen of us were pursued and molested by a company of the French. Out of breath, and unable to run farther, we cried, “Let us make a stand and get breath, else we will never reach the top.” “Take your will,” returned the officers. Immediately we faced about—the French halted—their officers pricked them on. We formed front, across the road, and charged;—the French officers in the rear, urging their troops forward. All would not do—the men forced their officers fairly over the hill and ran. We had what we wished—an unmolested retreat—and moved slowly up the height. We were then joined by a brigade of Brunswickers,—gave three cheers, and charged the French along the heights, keeping up our fire till dark. A part of the regiment made fires, while the remainder kept their ground upon the main height, until about twelve o’clock. We then marched off towards the Black Forest, leaving our wounded, whose cries were piercing; but we could not help them. Numbers continued to follow us, crawling on their hands and knees, filling the air with their groans. Many, who could not do so, held out their hands, supplicating to be taken with us. We tore ourselves away, and hurried to get out of sight. We could not bear it.
The roads were very bad, the rain continued to pour, and we made but little way. At day-break we formed on the outside of Maya, and got orders to cook; but scarce had we begun when the French made their appearance. We immediately moved on to a stronger height on the opposite side, and encamped. Here we got three days’ allowance of beef and bread served out to each man, and an allowance of liquor. As soon as cooking was over, we marched on to the Black Forest, and never halted, until two o’clock in the morning. The night was dark and stormy. The wounded officers were carried in blankets on the shoulders of the men, and the wounded soldiers, who had been enabled still to keep up with us, made the heart bleed at their cries; while the forcing up of the baggage caused such a noise, that the whole was a scene of misery and confusion. We halted to allow the baggage to get forward. Shortly after day-light the French advance came up with our rear-guard, consisting of a brigade of Portuguese, which continued to skirmish all the way through the forest. We lost a great number of men in this forest, unable to keep up through illness and fatigue, and not a few from the effects of liquor. It was found necessary to stave the stores of liquor; and the men were carrying it away in their bonnets. Many were intoxicated, and carried upon the shoulders of their comrades. We at length got out of the forest and encamped. Picquets were posted, and we began to cook; but we had scarcely commenced when the French were again upon us. The camp was moved, and we marched until two hours after dark. We were then drawn up in column, and lay down on the bare ground until next morning. The French moved about two miles, and then turned off on their left towards Pamplona, thinking there was nothing to stop them. We remained here until morning: day was scarce broke when we heard three guns fired towards our right. All were under arms in a moment, and we stood in this situation a considerable time. The noise of artillery and musketry was incessant on our right, but towards the afternoon the firing ceased, and the French were forced from the heights opposite Pamplona. After Lord Wellington had defeated them, they retreated by our right. We got orders to occupy a height in the wood. Two companies were sent at extended order down the wood, where we were not long before the enemy began to appear; and the firing commenced with their skirmishers. After doing our utmost for some time, we were forced to retire to the top of the height; and, when we arrived upon it, they were so numerous, it was vain to contend. We gave them two or three volleys, and retired through a small village, they following close in the rear. Then we drew up along the side of a strong rock, close by the main road, determined to defend it to the last. Lord Wellington sent a division to our assistance. The enemy seeing them approach, drew up and continued to annoy us for some time; then fell back upon the village and encamped. There were some fine fields of grain here, which they set fire to. We lay down fatigued and weary, having been constantly engaged almost the whole afternoon. Next morning, the 5th of August, the enemy began to retire, we following close at their heels through the Black Forest. They retired back into France. We halted upon our old camp ground for the space of half an hour, and then returned to our old quarters at Maya. We were very melancholy, the whole bringing to our minds the time when we last left it, and our wounded and dying comrades. After encamping on a height on the other side for two or three days, we were marched round to the heights of Roncesvalles, where we encamped, relieving a brigade of the 7th division. We lay here for a considerable time, working like galley slaves, from morning till evening, in building batteries and blockhouses. All the time I had been a soldier, my labour could not stand in the least comparison with my fatigues at this time. Orders were given that the heights should be kept by the 3d and 4th division, week about, (alternately.) We retired, moving down, and encamped on the other side of the village. A short time afterwards, we got orders for duty on the heights on the opposite side,—of which we were glad, thinking that the work would not be so severe. But we were disagreeably undeceived. Our labour was incessant; every day we were either on guard or on fatigue. All the time we remained here, we were not a night in bed out of two: besides, the weather was dreadful; we had always either snow or hail, the hail often as large as nuts. We were forced to put our knapsacks on our heads, to protect us from its violence. The mules, at these times, used to run crying up and down, hurt by the stones. The frost was most severe, accompanied by high winds. Often, for whole days and nights, we could not get a tent to stand. Many of us were frost-bitten, and others were found dead at their posts. At this time I cursed my hard fate, and groaned over my folly. Frequently have I been awakened, through the night, by the sobs of those around me in the tent; more especially, by the young soldiers, who had not been long from their mothers’ fire-sides. They often spent the darkness of the night in tears. The weather was so dreadful, the 92d regiment got grey trousers served out to them; they could not live with their kilts,—the cold would have killed them. In about two days after we went down to the valley, the day being good, the French came down from the heights nearest France. General Stewart being there at the same time with our advanced post, and seeing their manœuvres, ordered us to advance towards them. We soon beat them back, and retired to our post. A few days afterwards, the weather was so very bad, that great numbers of the men fell sick. We were then forced to leave the heights and encamp in the valley, leaving strong picquets in the block-houses on the main pass, which were relieved daily. Fatigue parties were sent up to work, nevertheless, every day the weather would permit. At this time we buried two guns of Captain Mitchell’s brigade of artillery, which displeased him much. Through intercession, General Stewart ordered up a fatigue party to raise them again. We were covered by the picquets, and, with great difficulty, at length got them raised and brought down to the valley. Each man on fatigue got an extra allowance of grog, the only welcome recompence.
We lay here for some time, frequently attacked in the block-houses by the French, and at length received orders to leave our purgatory in the heights, and move round towards Maya. We marched that whole afternoon and all night, until next morning; when the whole army formed on the other side of Maya. We were appointed the brigade of reserve, being far in the rear and very much fatigued. An attack was begun, almost as soon as we arrived. We moved towards the enemy’s works, which were very strong; but we forced them out, then moved round to our own right, the remainder of the army pursuing them. Their camp-ground, which was hutted like a little town, was occupied by us during the night.
November 10.—We, next morning, continued to move to our own right until we came to a village called Cambo, on the outside of which the enemy had batteries planted, and strong works. We kept up a severe fire for some time, but could not storm their works on account of the depth of the entrenchments. They found out that the Spanish troops, under Morillo, were fording the river on their right. We retired back into camp, and lay there two days: the weather was so bad we could not move out.
On the afternoon they blew up the bridge over the Nive, and retired out of the town. We then marched into it and were cantoned, and lay there for a considerable time, the French on one side and we on the other; our sentinel and their’s, on the bridge, not five yards asunder. The night before we crossed, the French came down to the banks of the river, with their music, and gave us a tune or two. We thought to change their tune before next night. We were then to be all under arms at a minute’s notice. About nine o’clock, the whole of our in-lying picquets were called to cover a party of sappers and miners, in raising a battery to cover our fording ground; and the sentinel on the broken bridge received orders to shoot the French sentinel, on the first gun for alarm being fired. Both were walking from one parapet to another,—the Frenchman unconscious of any unusual danger,—the English sentinel listening, and often looking to the victim; his heart revolting from the deed he dared not disobey. The match touched the signal gun; next moment the French sentinel fell into the river, pierced by a ball. As soon as the sappers and miners had constructed the battery, we moved back into the town, and remained until an hour before day. We were drawn up on our fording ground;—orders were given that not a man should speak above his breath. The whole being prepared,—the word was given to pass the river when three guns were fired on our left. Our right wing was sent out to cover the fording. The left forded the river; but we had not reached the opposite bank, when we received a volley from the enemy’s picquets. We gave three cheers,—splashed through the water; they retired, and we pursued them. The regiment formed upon the top of the height, sending out two companies to follow the enemy close; but they never came up with them.
All the night of the 11th of December, we lay in camp upon the face of a height near the Spaniards. In the afternoon of the 12th, we received orders to move round towards Bayonne, where we were quartered along the main road. There we remained a few days, until we received orders to march to our own right to assist a Spanish force who were engaged with superior numbers. We set off by day-light, in the morning of the 13th, towards them, and were moving on when General Hill sent an aid-de-camp after us, saying, “That is not the direction,—follow me.” We put to the right-about, to the main road towards Bayonne. We soon came to the scene of action, and were immediately engaged. We had continued firing, without intermission, for five hours, advancing and retreating, and lost a great number of men, but could not gain a bit of ground. Towards evening we were relieved by a brigade which belonged to another division. As many of us as could be collected were drawn up. General Hill gave us great praise for our behaviour this day, and ordered an extra allowance of liquor to each man. We were marched back to our old quarters along the road side. The day’s service had been very severe, but now I took it with the coolest indifference; I felt no alarm; it was all of course. I began to think my body charmed. My mind had come to that pass—I took every thing as it came without a thought. If I was at ease, with plenty, I was happy: If in the midst of the enemy’s fire, or of the greatest privations, I was not concerned. I had been in so many changes of plenty and want, ease and danger, they had ceased to be anticipated either with joy or fear.
We lay upon the road-side for two or three days, having two companies, three leagues to the rear, carrying the wounded to the hospital. We were next cantoned three leagues above Bayonne, along the side of the river. We had strong picquets planted along the banks. The French were cantoned upon the other side. Never a night passed that we were not molested by boats passing up and down the river with provisions and necessaries to the town. Our orders were to turn out, and keep up a constant fire upon them while passing. We had two grasshopper guns planted upon the side of the river, by means of which we one night sunk a boat loaded with clothing for the army, setting it on fire with red hot shot. Next day we were encamped in the rear of the town, being relieved by a brigade of Portuguese. We remained in camp two or three days, expecting to be attacked, the enemy having crossed above us on the river. We posted picquets in the town near our camp. At length receiving orders to march, we moved on until we came to a river on our right, which ran very swift. Part of the regiment having crossed, we got orders to come to the right-about, and were marched back to our old camp ground. Next morning we received orders to take another road towards Salvatero, where we encamped that night, and remained until the whole army assembled the following day. About two o’clock in the afternoon we were under arms, and moved towards the river, covered by a brigade of artillery. We forded, and continued to skirmish alongst the heights until the town was taken. We lost only one man during the whole time. We encamped upon the other side of the town; and next morning, followed the line of march, until we came before a town called Aris. We had severe fighting before we got into it. We were led on by an aid-de-camp. The contest lasted until after dark. We planted picquets in different streets of the town; the enemy did the same in others. Different patroles were sent out, during the night; but the French were always found on the alert. They retired before day-light; and we marched into the town, with our music at the head of the regiments. The town appeared then quite desolate, not worth twopence; but we were not three days in it until the French inhabitants came back, opened their shops and houses, and it became a fine lively place. There was a good deal of plundering the first night; for the soldiers going into the houses, and finding no person within, helped themselves. The people have a way of keeping their fowls in cans, full of grease, about the size of a hen. This we found out by accident; for, wanting some grease to fry in cooking, we took one of these cans, and cut out the fowl. We commenced a search for the grease cans, and were very successful. The fowls were excellent. We lay here a considerable time, then were marched towards Toulouse, and halted at a village four leagues from it, with orders to turn out on a moment’s notice. We were drawn out at twelve o’clock at night, and marched close up to the town, designing to throw a bridge over the river; but it ran so swift, that we failed in our attempt. We then kindled fires in all quarters, and returned to the village. Next morning we marched round towards the main road to Toulouse, and were cantoned along the road. We lay here for some time, and were, every morning, under arms an hour before day. At length, on the 10th of April, we received orders to attack Toulouse, and moved on by another road, on the opposite side from the one we had lain upon. We were drawn up in column, in rear of a house, and remained there for some time, sending out the flank companies to skirmish; and, at length, forced the enemy back upon their works. The contest now began to be more severe. A brigade of guns coming up, played upon their works for some time, and then retired, night coming on. We were posted in the different streets of the suburbs, to watch the enemy’s motions. At last we got our allowance of liquor served out, and retired to our cantonment.
I shall ever remember an adventure that happened to me towards the afternoon. We were in extended order, firing and retiring. I had just risen to run behind my file, when a spent shot struck me on the groin, and took the breath from me. “God receive my soul!” I said; and sat down resigned. The French were advancing fast. I laid my musket down, and gasped for breath. I was sick, and put my canteen to my head, but could not taste the water: however, I washed my mouth, and grew less faint. I looked to my thigh, and seeing no blood, took resolution to put my hand to the part to feel the wound. My hand was unstained by blood; but the part was so painful that I could not touch it. At this moment of helplessness the French came up. One of them made a charge at me, as I sat pale as death. In another moment I would have been transfixed, had not his next man forced the point past me: “Do not touch the good Scot,” said he; and then, addressing himself to me, added, “Do you remember me?” I had not recovered my breath sufficiently to speak distinctly: I answered, “No."—“I saw you at Sobral,” he replied. Immediately I recognized him to be a soldier whose life I had saved from a Portuguese, who was going to kill him as he lay wounded. “Yes I know you,” I replied. “God bless you!” cried he; and giving me a pancake out of his hat, moved on with his fellows, the rear of whom took my knapsack, and left me lying. I had fallen down for greater security. I soon recovered so far as to walk, though with pain, and joined the regiment, next advance. We were quartered in wine stores, where we lay for a considerable time, sending out a regiment, each night, on duty. The 71st happened to be the regiment on duty, on the night in which the French evacuated Toulouse. We immediately gave notice, and marched into the town; halted half an hour, until the cavalry passed through it, and then moved on after them. We fell in with a number of the enemy’s sick and wounded, whom we sent back to the town. We halted at Villa Franca, and were cantoned. Soult lay in a town on the heights, in front, about one league and a half from us. We remained here two or three days; when we were all turned out, cavalry and artillery, the French being under arms. Three guns were fired. The French did not seem inclined to attack us. We were encamped again. In the course of the day, flags of truce were passing between the armies. At length, General Soult came in his carriage, guarded by a squadron of his cavalry. We then got word that Buonaparte was deposed, and we were soon to have peace. Joy beamed on every face, and made every tongue eloquent. We sung and drank that whole night, and talked of home. Next morning falling back to Toulouse, we were cantoned there, and lay for a long time, looking anxiously for orders to embark for England. At length we marched to Bourdeaux, were reviewed by Lord Wellington, and embarked for Ireland.
We arrived at Cork in June 1814. I had now been seven years and eleven months a soldier, and, therefore, hoped for my discharge. I had still one year to serve, although enlisted for seven. Being only sixteen years of age, my seven years were counted from my eighteenth. Had I called myself seventeen, I should have now been free: but I scorned to lie; neither was I aware of this circumstance. Upon our arrival at Cork, we were marched to Limerick, and lay there a long time; then got the route for Cork to embark for America. I wanted but a few months to be free. I sought my discharge, but was refused. I was almost tempted to desert. I lamented my becoming a soldier at this time more than I had done on the retreat, or upon the Pyrennees. To be so near home and almost free, and yet to be sent across the Atlantic, was very galling. I knew not what to do. I kept my honour, and embarked. What vexed me, was some being discharged who had not been so long soldiers as I had been; only they were above eighteen when they enlisted.