About three o’clock in the afternoon we arrived at four roads; at this time there was a smart firing going on in our front; this, I believe, was caused by some Belgians playing at long shot with the enemy. Here I again saw the Duke of Wellington looking through his glass, as we halted a few moments; this was at Quatre Bras, and immediate orders were given by one of the Duke’s staff to occupy a clump of trees a little on our left; our company were ordered to take possession of it. While performing this task I could see the enemy emerging from a wood about a mile on our right, which was rather on a hill, with a clear plain between us. We had scarcely taken possession of the wood, when, for the first time, I beheld a French cuirassier or vidette. He was in an instant fired at by our men and his horse shot under him; he disengaged himself from the stirrups as the horse was falling, waving his sword over his head to put us at defiance, but he was immediately dropped by another rifle-shot. I think I can venture to assert that our company was the first of the British army who pulled a trigger at this celebrated battle.
The enemy’s light troops, I could soon perceive, in extended order, and in great force coming down to oppose us. This caused a corresponding movement on our part, and we were ordered to take ground to our left, passing close to a pond of water, the main road separating us from the enemy. While executing this the French commenced a very brisk fire on us, until we gained possession of a few houses on the main road on a rising ground, which two companies of our Rifles instantly occupied. The remainder of our division was now enveloped in one blaze of fire on the plain before mentioned. But we remained very quietly where we were, until the French bringing up some artillery, began riddling the house with round-shot. Feeling rather thirsty, I had asked a young woman in the place for a little water, which she was handing to me, when a ball passed through the building, knocking the dust about our ears: strange to say, the girl appeared less alarmed than myself.
Fearing that we might be surrounded, we were at length obliged to leave the building, in doing which we were fiercely attacked by a number of French voltigeurs, who forced us to extend along a lane, from whence we as smartly retaliated, and a galling fire was kept up for some time on both sides.
It is remarkable that recruits in action are generally more unfortunate than the old soldiers. We had many fine fellows, who joined us on the eve of our leaving England, who were killed here. The reason of this is, that an old rifleman will seek shelter, if there be any near his post, while the inexperienced recruit appears as if petrified to the spot by the whizzing balls, and unnecessarily exposes himself to the enemy’s fire.
Being hard pressed by superior numbers, we were at length joined by a number of Belgians, and received orders to advance, which we did, driving the enemy through the skirts of a wood, and passing a field of rye, which obstructed them from our view. As soon, however, as we emerged from the wood, a regiment of French infantry on our right received us with a running fire. I was in the act of taking aim at some of our opposing skirmishers, when a ball struck my trigger finger, tearing it off, and turning the trigger aside; while a second shot passed through the mess-tin on my knapsack. Several of our men were killed by this volley, and Lieutenant Gardiner, a worthy little officer of the company, was severely wounded in the lower part of the leg. We wounded men made the best of our way to the rear; and on my return to the house at the corner of the lane, I found the pretty Belgian still in possession, looking out of the window, and seemingly quite unconcerned, although a dozen shots had perforated the house: all our entreaties for her to leave were in vain, as her father, she said, had desired her to take care of the place until he returned from Brussels.
The dusk of the evening soon set in, myself and numbers of others disabled, took up our quarters for the night in another farm-house lower down, and some distance from the main road.
The house became soon thronged with the wounded of our division, who were momentarily brought in, until the out-houses, courtlages, &c., were literally crammed. All the straw and hay that could be obtained was procured, of which, fortunately, there was plenty, and strewed everywhere to lay the men on. To sleep was impossible with the anguish of my shattered hand and the groans of my fellow-sufferers. The dawn came on before we were aware of it, and ere it was light, our advanced sentries were again in continual skirmish along the whole line; indeed, the balls kept patting through the doors and windows as we lay there. Such as were able to walk soon started for Brussels; but several of the severely wounded were obliged to be left behind for want of conveyances.
We had not proceeded far towards the main road along a pathway partially protected by a hedge from the enemy’s fire, when one of my companions heard the cries of a child on the other side; on looking over he espied a fine boy, about two or three years of age, by the side of its dead mother, who was still bleeding copiously from a wound in the head, occasioned, most likely, by a random shot from the enemy. We carried the motherless, and perhaps, orphan child, by turns, to Genappe, where we found a number of women of our division, one of whom recognised the little fellow, I think she said, as belonging to a soldier of the First Royals.
Genappe, also, was literally crowded with the wounded, who were conveyed with every possible dispatch to Brussels. Feeling most anxious to know the fate of our regiment, I stood on a hedgerow, on the skirts of the village, when I descried the division retreating towards us, the rain at the time coming down in torrents. I remained until some of the regiments entered the village, together with many of our wounded, who gave me information that our regiment, with the cavalry, formed the rear-guard. I now retraced my steps the same road I had advanced, and once more arrived at the little village of Waterloo, which many of our men never saw again, as our battalion lost more on the 16th than on the 18th of June. Here I stopped for the night. The cries of the wounded on their way, in cart-loads, to Brussels, were most distressing, and many carts broke down through being overloaded, and through their haste to get forward.
It is curious to observe the confusion and uproar that generally exists in the rear of an army in battle, while all in front is order and regularity. Many people imagine the reverse. This, however, is generally to be imputed to the soldiers’ wives and camp followers of all descriptions, who crowd in great numbers, making inquiries after their husbands, friends, &c., for whom they generally are prepared with liquors, and other refreshments. I had no such ties, save my comrades, who now were too busily occupied watching their enemies, and with their own personal considerations, to have either time or opportunity to inquire after mine. The crowds of carts, horses, &c., which thickly thronged the roadway, were greeted on all sides by anxious faces and earnest inquiries. But now and then as one of the vehicles hurried along, a burst of laughter hailed it, and indeed, it seemed to bear a load of a more enlivening nature than that which characterized the others. My sound legs, for my arm only was wounded, and hung suspended in a sling, enabled me to approach the cart, and scrutinise its contents. My surprise was soon dissipated, and wounds almost forgotten, in the merry features of my old friend, Josh Hetherington, who, having received a flesh wound in the leg, was now being borne to the hospital with other fellow-sufferers.