“My drill serjeant was more of a German than a Frenchman; in truth he was a naturalized German, and he thought the best way to make recruits learn their drill was to thrash them with a big stick.
“I saw him hit several poor devils about the legs and shoulders.
“Thinks I to myself, ‘this won’t do for me.’
“Nor did it.
“One day, however, as I couldn’t escape, I thought I’d do something, so as to be sent to prison for a day or two, so as to have plenty of time to think over new plans for getting away to England.
“I, among a great many more, were placed under this German drill master, and he began to knock the poor devils about most unmercifully.
“My turn came next.
“I did something wrong, and he was about to strike me with his thick club.
“On the instant I raised my musket, and, with one blow, knocked him down as dead as a herring.
“In an instant I ran away out of the barracks, gun and all.