With Wellington in Spain: A Story of the Peninsula

by F. S. Brereton

"And his adjutant along with him, too," he remarked, looking the unabashed Jack up and down, and reflecting that he seemed to be a very smart and jovial fellow. "You chaps know how you're spoken of, perhaps, eh?" he asked with another smile, causing both the lads to shake their heads.

"Then I'll tell you. Never is one seen but the other is at his heels. So throughout the army you're known as the 'twins.' Good name, isn't it?"

Once more they heard his hearty laughter, which they shared with him; for this was news to our two heroes. Not that they could help admitting that there was reason for the name they had earned, since Jack Barwood had become Tom's veritable shadow. They seemed to haunt the same piece of ground always, and even when with their command the jovial Jack was ever at the side of his superior. There was a whisper also amongst the men, fostered not a little by voluble sayings of Andrews and his brother rifleman, that these two young officers, occupying such posts of responsibility, were nevertheless not above a little skylarking. Indeed, if Tom and Jack had proved that they were eager and ready to lead their men into action, they had also more than once shown a disposition to lead them into mischief.

"Well, now, let's have a look at the place," said the officer, producing a short spyglass. "You can see for yourselves how the fortress is placed. It stands on an eminence at the junction of the Rivers Guadiana and Rivillas, the former being crossed by a long bridge, which you can see for yourself. There's the castle, perched a hundred feet above the level of the rivers, and occupying almost the apex of the point of confluence. The town spreads behind it fan-wise, and is walled, presenting eight strong bastions, with curtains, counterscarps, glacis, and covered ways, without doubt, all helping to make the place extremely strong. There are five gates, though you can't see them all from this point. There, take a look; you can actually observe people moving in the streets."

The view was, in fact, an enchanting one; for Badajoz at that time was not an erection of a few years, but one of great antiquity. It had withstood sieges against the Moors and Goths, and had been taken and retaken many a time; and there it was fully prepared for another siege, garrisoned by some 5000 of the enemy, and packed to repletion with guns, ammunition, and food; in fact with all that makes defence possible.

"And how will the siege be conducted?" asked Tom, when he had taken a long look at the place. "Shall we endeavour to make a breach at one point or at many?"

"Many," came the short answer. "No doubt Wellington will launch his attacking parties in several directions. But first he must smash up that work you see on the far side of the river, known as Fort Picurina. Batteries will be placed elsewhere, and I believe the angle nearest us has been selected, as well as that farthest away, close to the Trinidad and St. Vincent bastions respectively. In a few hours the guns will be thundering in a manner which will open your eyes."

The bombardment that followed was, in fact, a revelation to our hero; for, though Wellington might easily have been better equipped for a siege, and have had a far superior battering train, the guns he possessed were nevertheless of service. Nor must it be forgotten that these same guns had been brought into position only after the very greatest labour and secrecy; for they had been sent round by sea from Lisbon, had then been transported up the River Setubal in small boats, to Alcacer do Sal, and thence by land across the Alemtejo to the River Guadiana.

Think of the labour involved in such an operation, of the secrecy necessary to keep the movement from the knowledge of the French. Think also of the small army of helpers, all taking part in this war, and yet working out of sound of gun shot, and far from the presence of the enemy. That, perhaps is a question which escapes the notice of many. The tale of some campaign brings to light narratives of gallant deeds, of fierce attacks, of strenuous fighting; it leaves too often to the imagination of one ignorant of the life of a soldier, and of the needs of a campaign, all the numerous services upon which success of an army in the field depends. For if there be no one to supervise the stores, and to dispatch them to the seat of war, how can troops operate in a country devoid almost of food, where ammunition cannot be obtained, and where boots, clothing, and a thousand other necessary trifles wear out, are lost, or destroyed with alarming rapidity? Think, then, of the host labouring out of sight of the enemy, but labouring nevertheless. Think also of the other numerous band marching with troops as non-combatants, and yet subject to as great dangers, the very same privations, and bearing on their shoulders equal, if not greater, responsibilities; for with the troops there must be men to see to the distribution of food, to gather stores, and apply for all that is necessary. There must be trained officers to look to the ailments of horses, and, above all, perhaps, there must be an army of surgeons to care for the wounded and the thousands more who go down under privation and exposure.