The Story of a Peninsular Veteran / Sergeant in the Forty-Third Light Infantry, during the Peninsular War

by Anonymous

With respect to myself, I could not help largely sharing in the general desire to advance; indeed, our duty in the trenches had been so severe that, in spite of approaching peril, we had no objection to move. I had been stationed in battery number six, and was frequently exposed to a terrific raking fire from the besieged. Directions, I remember, were given on one occasion to fill a quantity of sand-bags. Poor Woollams, a private in the regiment, and myself, worked together; he held the mouth of the sack open, while I threw in the sand with a shovel; before we had been long thus engaged, a shell struck his knee, and in an instant severed his leg, which dropped on the ground; he fell backwards, while the shell, which lodged in the earth, at a few feet distance had burnt nearly to the exploding point. Aware of the approaching danger, I threw myself on my face; and I had scarcely taken the precaution when the shell burst with ruinous effect. Stones, dust, and fragments of timber were scattered in all directions; and among other substances whirled into the air, was the lost limb of my comrade. I knew it while descending by the pattern of the gaiter. As the leg was useless, I ran to the sufferer to whom it had belonged, tied my coat-strap round his thigh to check the effusion of blood, and, after placing him in a blanket, carried him to the nearest hospital, where surgical assistance was promptly afforded. On my return to the trenches, another friend was borne off, greatly hurt; a comrade was loading his musket, and while the ramrod was in the barrel, the piece was accidentally discharged. The ramrod pierced through his body, and so firmly was the worm-end fixed near the backbone, that the strongest man among us was unable to move it. He was conveyed to the infirmary, and things went on as usual, as no calamity of this sort could be allowed to interfere with the duties then before us. The fine young man, whose case is just recorded, recovered from the wound, but was, I believe, eventually drowned in a river near Salamanca. At another time, during a violent cannonade from the besieged, I had been conversing with a man on the trenches, when our discussion was closed by a round shot, which took away the head of the respondent, as smoothly as if it had been sabred. I was also informed that another of our men had been killed merely by the wind of a cannon-bullet; but as I did not witness the circumstance, I will not vouch for its correctness. Not long before the storming parties were selected, a sad instance of the fatal effects of intemperance occurred. One of our company was ordered out on duty, but, being in a state of inebriety, durst not appear. We afterwards missed him altogether; and some time after we found his lifeless body coiled up in a blanket, in a crouching posture, behind one of the tents. Our opinion was that he had crept there for secrecy, and by some means or other was smothered. All that remained in our power we did, which was to consign his remains to the parent earth. The day on which we proceeded to Badajos I received a letter from my brother in Ireland, in which he recommended me to an officer named Carey. After some search I found the gentleman, who received me with genuine kindness, and promised his future patronage when the town was taken; an engagement on which, from his frank and generous bearing, I at once felt it was safe to depend. But, Lord, what is man, or the best of men? My newly-acquired friend fell while leading on his men; so that our brief intercourse was the first and last which this world afforded.

We were now selected and classified for the actual assault. The difficulty was, not to procure men enough, but how to refuse applications, for all were ready. Nor were these offers founded in ignorance of the nature of the expected service; the candidates were not such novices. The watch-word of Nelson was not forgotten,—‘England expects every man to do his duty;’ and the resolution which everywhere prevailed was entered into with a thorough consciousness that life was then scarcely worth an hour’s purchase. And yet every countenance was bright, for every heart was firm; and it was clear that the elevation and strength of mind so universally prevalent was the effect of principle, well considered and approved. Indeed, there was no stimulus at hand to produce superficial excitement; no drops of Scheidam to generate Dutch courage; the men were kept in the utmost silence and order. It is true here and there a soldier might be perceived stealing from the trenches with a little refreshment in his canteen for the friend with whom he was to part; and in return, more than one message, the last to be delivered on earth, was sent from many a brave man to mother, wife, or some other valued relative, with directions that if killed the knapsack of a certain number, with its contents, should be duly forwarded. The night was dry, but clouded, the air thick with watery exhalations from the river, the ramparts and the trenches were unusually still, yet a low murmur pervaded the latter, and in the former, lights were seen to flit here and there; while the deep voices of the sentinels at times proclaimed that all was well in Badajos. The French confiding in Phillipon’s direful skill, watched from their lofty station the approach of enemies whom they had twice before baffled, and now hoped to drive a third time, blasted and ruined, from the walls.

At ten o’clock the whole of the works were to have been simultaneously assailed, and it was hoped that the strength of the enemy would shrivel before this fiery girdle; but the disappointments of war are many. An unforeseen accident delayed the attack of the fifth division; and a lighted carcass thrown from the castle falling close to where the men of the third division were drawn up, discovered their array, and obliged them to anticipate the signal by half an hour. Then, everything being suddenly disturbed, the double columns of the fourth and light divisions also moved silently and swiftly against the breaches; and the guard of the trenches, rushing forward with a shout, encompassed the San Roque with fire, and broke in so violently that scarcely any resistance was made. General Kempt passed the Rivellas in single files by a narrow bridge, under a terrible musketry; and then reforming and running up the rugged hill, had reached the foot of the castle, when he fell severely wounded, and being carried back to the trenches, met Picton who hastened forward to take the command. Meanwhile his troops spreading along the front reared their ladders, some against the lofty castle, some against the adjoining front on the left, and with incredible courage ascended amidst showers of heavy stones, logs of wood, and bursting shells rolled off the parapet; while from the flanks the enemy plied his musketry with fearful rapidity, and in front with pikes and bayonets stabbing the leading assailants, or pushed the ladders from the walls; and all this attended with deafening shouts, and the crash of breaking ladders, and the shriek of soldiers crushed by violent falls. Still, swarming round the remaining ladders, these undaunted veterans strove who should first climb; until all being overturned, the French shouted victory, and the British, baffled but untamed, fell back a few paces, and took shelter under the rugged edge of the hill. Here, when the broken ranks were somewhat reformed, the heroic Colonel Ridge, springing forward, called with stentorian voice on his men to follow; and seizing a ladder, once more raised it against the castle, yet to the right of the former attack, where the wall was lower, and an embrasure offered some facility. A second ladder was soon placed alongside the first by the grenadier officer Canch, and the next instant he and Ridge were on the rampart; the shouting troops pressed after them; the garrison, amazed, and in a manner surprised, were driven fighting through the double gate into the town, and the castle was won. A reinforcement sent from the French reserve then came up, a sharp action followed, both sides fired through the gate, and the enemy retired; but Ridge fell,—and no man died that night with greater honour.

During these events, the tumult at the breaches was such, as if the very earth had been rent asunder, and its central fires were bursting up uncontrolled. The two divisions had reached the glacis in silence; as yet no stir was heard, and darkness covered the breaches. Some hay-packs were then thrown, several ladders placed, and the forlorn hopes and storming parties of the light division, about five hundred in all, had descended into the ditch without opposition, when a bright flame shooting upwards displayed all the terror of the scene. The ramparts, crowded with dark figures and glittering arms were on the one side; and on the other, the red columns of the British, deep and broad, were coming on like streams of burning lava. A crash immediately followed, and the storming parties were dashed to pieces with incredible violence by the explosion of hundreds of shells and powder barrels. The place which fell to my lot was just in the centre of this hurly-burly. With what similitude to illustrate our condition at that moment I know not. The regular discharge of musketry at given distances, and the usual clash of arms in field-warfare is rather rough, to say the least of it; but the collision of hostile forces in open space, where the combatants may evade approaching ruin, is civil pastime compared with this deadly ditch conflict. Each of the men fought as if the issue of the assault depended on his single arm. As to timidity, the thing was unknown; every drum-boy acted well. Shielded by Eternal Mercy, all undeserving as I was, my life was preserved. Not that it then appeared even to myself worth consideration. All thought of self-protection was banished from the corps in general. Every nerve and muscle was strained to the utmost tension in the struggle; among the whole body there appeared to be only one heart; and in the attempt to reach the ramparts all other considerations merged. But what an assemblage of furies; the excitement was indescribable. Fancying that the man immediately behind myself did not press forward with sufficient energy, I turned round, and with imprecations of which the bare remembrance causes regret, I declared that if he did not push on I would shoot him. Most likely I was wrong, not only in language but in opinion. I have since thought the man did his best; but in the raging of such a tempest, mistakes were easily made, and the mere notion of defective effort ignited the passions.

For one instant we stood on the brink of the ditch, amazed at the terrific sight; then with a shout that matched even the sound of the explosion, the men flew down the ladders, or disdaining their aid, leaped, unmindful of the depth, into the gulf below. The fourth division came running after, and followed with like fury; there were, however, only five ladders for both columns, which were close together; and a deep cut made in the bottom of the ditch as far as the counter-guard of the Trinidad, was filled with water from the inundation; into this watery snare the head of the fourth division fell, and it is said that above a hundred of the Fusileers, the men of Albuera, were there smothered. Great was the confusion at this juncture; for now the ravelin was crowded with men of both divisions, and while some continued to fire, others ran down and jumped towards the breach; many also passed between the ravelin and the counter-guard of the Trinidad; the two divisions got mingled; and the reserves, who should have remained at the quarries, also came pouring in, until the ditch was quite filled,—the rear still crowding forward, and all cheering vehemently. The enemy’s shouts were also loud and terrible; and the bursting of shells and of grenades, the roaring of the guns from the flanks, answered by the iron howitzers from the battery of the parallel, the heavy rolls and explosion of the powder barrels, the flight of the blazing splinters, the loud exhortations of the officers, and the continued clatter of the muskets, made a maddening din.

Impatient of delay, a heavy column now bounded up the great breach; but across the top glittered a range of sword-blades, sharp-pointed, keen-edged on both sides, and firmly fixed in ponderous beams, which were chained together and set deep in the ruins; and for ten feet in front the ascent was covered with loose planks studded with sharp iron points, on which the feet of the foremost being set, the planks moved, and the unhappy soldiers, falling forward on the spikes, rolled down upon the ranks behind. Then the Frenchmen, exulting at the success of their stratagem, and leaping forward, plied their shot with terrible rapidity; for every man had several muskets, and each musket, in addition to its ordinary charge, contained a small cylinder of wood, stuck full of leaden slugs, which scattered like hail when they were discharged. At the beginning of this dreadful conflict, Colonel Andrew Barnard had, with prodigious efforts, separated his division from the other, and preserved some degree of military array; but now the tumult was such that no command could be heard distinctly, except by those close at hand; and the mutilated bodies, heaped on each other, and the wounded, struggling to avoid being trampled upon, broke the formations. Order was unattainable; yet officers of all stations, followed more or less numerously by the men, were seen to start out, as if struck by sudden madness, and rush into the breach. In one of these attempts, Colonel M’Leod, of our regiment, a young man, whose feeble body would have been quite unfit for war, had it not been sustained by an unconquerable spirit, was killed. Wherever his voice was heard, there his soldiers gathered; and with such a strong resolution did he lead them up the fatal ruins, that when one behind him in falling plunged a bayonet in his back, he complained not, and continuing his course, was shot dead within a yard of the sword-blades. Two hours spent in these vain efforts convinced the soldiers that the breach of the Trinidad was impregnable. Gathering in dark groups, and leaning on their muskets, they looked up with sullen desperation; while the enemy, stepping out on the ramparts, and aiming their shots by the light of the fire-balls which they threw over, asked, as their victims fell, ‘why they did not come into Badajos?’

About midnight, when two thousand brave men had fallen, Wellington, who was on a height close to the quarries, sent orders for the remainder to retire, and reform for a second assault; for he had just then heard that the castle was taken, and, thinking the enemy would still hold out in the town, was resolved to assail the breaches again. This retreat from the ditch, however, was not effected without further carnage and confusion; for the French fire never slackened, and a cry arose that the French were making a sally from the distant flanks, which caused a rush towards the ladders. Then the groans and lamentations of the wounded, who could not move, and expected to be slain, increased; many officers, who had not heard of the order, endeavoured to stop the soldiers from going back, and some would even have removed the ladders, but were unable to break through the crowd.

All this time the third division was lying close to the castle; and, either from the fear of risking the loss of a point which ensured the capture of the place, or that the egress was too difficult, made no attempt to drive away the enemy from the breaches. On the other side, however, the fifth division had commenced the false attack on the Pardaleras; and on the right of the Guadiana the Portuguese were sharply engaged at the bridge. Thus the town was begirt; for General Walker’s brigade, having pressed on during the feint on the Pardaleras, was escalading the distant bastion of San Vincente. His troops had advanced along the banks of the river, and reached the French guardhouse at the barrier gate undiscovered, for the ripple of the waters smothered the sound of their footsteps; but just then the explosion at the breaches took place, the moon shone out, and the French sentinels, discovering the columns, fired. The British troops immediately springing forward under a sharp cover of musketry, began to hew down the wooden barrier at the covered way, while the Portuguese, being panic-stricken, threw down the scaling-ladders. Nevertheless, the others snatched them up again, and forcing the barrier, jumped into the ditch; but the guiding engineer officer was killed; and when the foremost man succeeded in reaching the ladders, the latter were found too short, for the walls were generally above thirty feet high. Meanwhile the fire of the French was deadly, a small mine was sprung beneath the soldiers’ feet, beams of wood and live shells were rolled over on their heads, showers of grape from the flank swept the ditch, and man after man dropped dead from the ladders. Fortunately, some of the defenders having been called away to aid in recovering the castle, the ramparts were not entirely manned; and the assailants, having discovered a corner of the bastion where the scarp was only twenty feet high, placed three ladders there, under an embrasure which had no gun, and was only stopped with a gabion. Some men with extreme difficulty got up, for the ladders were still too short; and the first man who gained the top was pushed up by his comrades, and then drew others after him, until many had gained the summit; and though the French shot heavily against them from both flanks, and from a house in front, they thickened, and could not be driven back. Half the 4th regiment entered the town itself to dislodge the enemy from the houses; while the others pushed forward towards the breach, and by dint of hard fighting successfully mastered three bastions. In this disorder a French reserve, under General Viellande, came on the British advance with a firm and rapid charge, and pitching some men over the walls, and killing others outright, again cleared the ramparts, even to the San Vincente. There, however, Colonel Nugent had taken his station with a battalion of the 38th, as a reserve; and when the French came up, shouting and slaying all before them, this battalion, about two hundred strong, arose, and with one close volley destroyed them. The panic then ceased; the soldiers rallied, and in compact order once more charged along the walls towards the breaches; but the French, although turned on both flanks, did not yield. Meanwhile the detachment of the 4th regiment, which had entered the town when the San Vincente was first carried, was strangely situated; for the streets were empty, and brilliantly illuminated, and no person was seen; yet a low murmur or whisper was occasionally heard, lattices were now and then gently opened, and from time to time shots were fired from underneath the doors of the houses. However, the troops, with bugles sounding, advanced towards the great square of the town; and in their progress captured several mules going with ammunition to the breaches. At length the French were beaten back, other parties entered the place, and finally General Viellande, and Phillipon, who was wounded, seeing all ruined, passed the bridge with a few hundred soldiers, and entered San Cristoval, where they all surrendered early the next morning, upon summons, to Lord Somerset, who had with great readiness pushed through the town to the draw-bridge before they had time to organize further resistance.

In these protracted conflicts many of the finest soldiers in the British army met their fate, and fell in the firm and vigorous discharge of their duty. Of these, numbers might have been preserved had they chosen to have fallen back; but it was with them a point of honour to gain the breach or die on the spot. So wonderful is the resolution of a noble heart; and so much the more is it to be regretted that power, so morally invincible, should be employed in the sad purpose of human destruction. For my own part, my mind had been unhesitatingly made up from the first shot that was fired, that so long as life and consciousness continued I would fulfil my commission to the best of my ability. As the battle grew hot I caught the contagion that burned all around, and in this desperate and murderous mood advanced to the breach of Trinidad. My pride perhaps wanted to be repressed; and while in the act of marching, I was wounded in the left thigh by a musket-shot, which remains unextracted to this day, and will probably go with me to the grave. At first, not disposed to heed the casualty, I affected to despise such a trifle, and continued to fight on. Nature, however, refused her support; and after firing a few times, I felt myself getting weak and feverish. What rendered my situation worse was, that at that precise moment the report of an unexpected sally of the French was circulated. Had that been realised, my doom would have been sealed, as I could neither resist nor retreat. In this condition, faint with loss of blood, I contrived to descend into the ditch with the help of my musket. Meanwhile the depth of water by some added inundation had been increased, and no ladder was to be discovered for my ascent on the opposite side. Unwilling to die there, I made another effort, and at length observed a ladder standing in front of the ditch. Unable to get up with my musket, I reluctantly left that behind, and scrambled up with extreme difficulty. Numerous shots were fired at me while ascending, and I perceived bullets whistling through the rounds of the ladder, but not one of them struck me. But I was sadly grieved at the loss of my musket; it had been a faithful friend to me; I seldom knew it to fail in the hour of need; the number on it was seventy-seven. Having succeeded in gaining the summit, I found, to my surprise, a young man belonging to the gallant Napier’s company, who kindly offered his arm, and supported me to the field-hospital. May the Almighty think upon and reward this timely benefactor! He was amongst the bravest where all were brave, and, though unhurt, had stood in the fore-front and pinnacle at the severest point of strife. With so large an influx of patients, it will be supposed that the hospital attentions were not very prompt. I was placed on the ground, with many others in a worse condition than myself, to await my turn for surgical assistance. After some hours I found that unless my wound ceased bleeding I should not long survive; this, with a little contrivance, I managed to effect. But the most intolerable sensation was that of raging thirst; all my worldly substance, ten times valued, would have been no price at all for a draught of water. Meantime the frost was so severe, that my limbs appeared to be deprived of flexibility and motion. In the course of the night, hearing a deep moan at a little distance, I called out, ‘Who is there?’ and was answered, ‘It’s me, Tom.’ The voice was familiar, and I found it was that of Patrick Murphy, an old comrade and countryman in Dalzell’s company, who had fought most nobly through several campaigns. He had been miserably burnt while endeavouring to force the breach, and suffered extremely. In the course of a day or two we were placed in military spring-wagons, and conveyed to Elvas. We were afterwards transferred to bullock-carts, a mode of conveyance not remarkable either for comfort or speed; the carriages were clumsily constructed, and ensured very little in the way of easy riding; added to which, we moved only at the rate of about one mile an hour.

I have to add with sorrow that the conquest of Badajos was attended with excesses that tend to tarnish the soldier’s character. All, indeed, were not alike, for hundreds risked and many lost their lives in striving to stop the violence; but the madness of ungovernable licentiousness generally prevailed; and as the worst men were leaders here, all the dreadful passions of human nature were displayed. Shameless rapacity, brutal intemperance, savage lust, cruelty and murder, shrieks and piteous lamentations, groans, shouts, curses, the hissing of fires bursting from the houses, the crashing of doors and windows, and the report of muskets used in violence, resounded for two days and nights in the devoted town. Five thousand men and officers fell during the siege; and of these, including seven hundred Portuguese, three thousand five hundred had been stricken in the assault,—sixty officers and more than seven hundred men being slain on the spot. Five generals were wounded; about six hundred men and officers fell in the escalade of San Vincente, as many at the castle, and more than two thousand at the breaches, each division there losing about twelve hundred. Let any man picture to himself this frightful carnage taking place in a space of less than a hundred square yards. Let him consider that the slain died not all suddenly, nor by one manner of death; that some perished by steel, some by shot, some by water, that some were crushed and mangled by heavy weights, some trampled upon, some dashed to atoms by fiery explosions; that for hours this destruction was endured without shrinking; and that the town was won at last. Let any man consider this, and he must admit that a British army is by no means deficient either in physical or moral excellence.