The following morning, the French continued their march of havoc, and we closed after them, village after village giving flaming proofs of their continued atrocities. Passing through one which had been fired, by reason, as we were informed, of its having been the quarters of Marshal Ney and staff,—an appalling instance of vengeance here occurred. The parents of one of our Caçadores had lived in this village, and immediately we entered, he rushed to the house where they resided. On reaching the doorway, the soldier hesitated a few seconds, but the door was open, and stretched across the threshold he beheld the mangled bodies of his father and mother, the blood still warm and reeking through the bayonet stabs, while an only sister lay breathing her last, and exhibiting dreadful proofs of the brutality with which she had been violated. The unhappy man staggered, frenzied with grief, and stared wildly around him; till suddenly burying all other feelings in the maddening passion of revenge, he rushed forth from what had probably been once a happy home. His first act was to dash at some French prisoners that unfortunately were near the spot, guarded by some of our dragoons. These he attacked with the fury of a madman. One he shot and another he wounded, and he would have sacrificed a third, had not the guard made him prisoner. On the circumstances being made known to the General, he was liberated.
Outside the village, and on a gentle slope, we came to the enemy’s camp ground, which they had been obliged to quit so precipitately as to have left their fires lighted. We noticed a goat, which, by its frisking and jumping about, I supposed to have been a pet of some French officer. Whenever we went near, it would step aside, until some of the men levelled their rifles and shot it; swords were out in a moment, and the little animal, skin and all, dissected. I was just apportioning the hind quarter, when who should ride near, but Lord Wellington and staff; for a while I felt as if the noose were already round my neck, until the Colonel coming up, re-established my serenity, and congratulated us on our lucky chance; for this kindness we shared our booty with him that same night.
We had suffered dreadfully throughout the previous week; many of our men from weakness, and through want of rations, having been unable to keep up with their regiments, Colonel Beckwith, in the hearing of many of us, took this opportunity of making it known to the Commander-in-chief, who immediately promised we should have the first rations that came up. We then marched to some high ground, from whence we could distinctly see the French camp at a place called Foz d’Aouce, their fires lighted preparatory to passing the night there. It was determined, however, that they should not enjoy it so easily. Our battalion was instantly ordered to the attack, before proceeding to which, I will introduce to my readers a squad of “gentlemen,” who joined us a few evenings preceding. We had been reinforced by a fresh batch of recruits from England, a number of whom had been drafted into our company. These fellows’ rosy cheeks and plump appearance, with their new dresses, formed a bright relief and amusing contrast to our fierce embrowned visages, covered with whisker and mustachio, as we then were, and our clothing patched and of all colours. As these new-comers were now about to go through the ordeal of fire, for the first time in their lives, Major O’Hare thought proper to say a few words by way of advice to them, on so momentous an occasion; accordingly, he gave the command, “Recruits to the front.”
Some ten or twelve immediately stepped forward, wondering, no doubt, what they were wanted for. “Do you see those men on that plain?” asked the Major, as he pointed to the French camp. On several of the men answering “Ees, Zur!” Major O’Hare, with a dry laugh, continued, “Well then, those are the French, and our enemies. You must kill those fellows, and not allow them to kill you. You must learn and do as these old birds here do,” pointing to us, “and get cover where you can. Recollect, recruits, you come here to kill, and not be killed. Bear this in mind: if you don’t kill the French they’ll kill you.”—“Ees, Zur!” said they again.
The Major’s logic, although it elicited roars of laughter from the old soldiers, I believe had more effect with the recruits than if Demosthenes had risen for the purpose. Immediately after this out went our muzzle stoppers, and sallying down the slope on which we had been drawn up, at the enemy we went. Our battalion was soon hotly engaged, assisted by some light companies of the guards, belonging to the first division. The night was fast setting in, but we soon succeeded in beating the enemy out of their camp ground, and we dashed at them as they retired crowding with precipitation over a bridge which crossed the river in their rear. Before two-thirds of their force had accomplished this, the bridge, by some irregularity, was blown up, and great numbers also were drowned in attempting to ford the stream.
At their camp ground many of our men came in for a bit of a wind-fall, as the French, in their hurry to place the river between us and them, had left their meat and pots on the fires. This afforded a happy regale to some of our unfortunate hungry stomachs, the more especially as the food thus come by, was eaten with a sense of having been fairly earned.
During the foregoing skirmish and while very closely engaged, I perceived a horse, gaily bedizened with French trappings, galloping about, as though looking for an owner, and I managed to catch it by the bridle. A minute afterwards my prize received a shot, probably intended for myself, but which stretched the poor animal dead beside me.
The night was passed on the French camp ground. At the fire round which we thronged, were two wounded Frenchmen; it was a satisfaction to mark the care and attention which they received at the hands of our men. One of the prisoners, whom I found to be a very intelligent fellow, gave me interesting accounts of the state and proceedings of Massena’s troops, which, as it much amused us at the period, possibly may prove equally entertaining to the reader.
“At the time that Massena and his troops,” said he, “lay at Santarem, we had encouraged hopes of driving the English into Lisbon, or the sea; but finding these unavailing, it was given up in despair, and the army prepared, at about the beginning of the spring of 1811, to retire back through the country into Spain.
“The batteries and other works which for several months our men had been erecting, were destroyed, and leaving behind us a great number of our sick, whom we had no means of conveying away, we shared the last of our provisions, amounting to about ten biscuits each man amongst us, and we prepared to retreat.