On the arrival of Lord Hill to pay his respects to the Duke of Wellington, the whole regiment, officers and men, embraced the opportunity of testifying their regard for the character of that brave and estimable nobleman. On quitting the hut, he was greeted with loud and long continued plaudits. Turning round, his Lordship approached us hat in hand, much affected, the men continuing to salute him with cheers which proceeded from the heart. The Duke, conceiving that our cheers proceeded from a very different cause, came hurriedly out of his wooden house, but on perceiving the true one, his Grace laughed, and appeared quite delighted with the mark of respect which "her nainsel' had paid to his friend and favourite General."
Previous to the receipt of Blucher's dispatches, we were all in high spirits, anticipating a splendid victory over the French Marshal before night, never doubting but Blucher would find employment for Bonaparte, while we amused ourselves with Ney. But from the moment that Blucher's retreat was known, our spirits became depressed; a gloom stole over the countenances of the whole; every individual was more or less affected; and I am inclined to think that the breast of none was more agitated than that of our illustrious chief. On receiving the unwelcome intelligence, the Duke shut himself up in the hut for some time, then came out, and walked alone in front of it for nearly an hour in deep meditation. Now and then he was interrupted by a courier bearing a dispatch, who, on delivering it, instantly retired to some distance, there to wait his General's orders. The Field-Marshal walked at the rate of three and a-half to four miles in the hour. His left hand was thrown carelessly behind his back, and in his right he held a small switch, one end of which he frequently put to his mouth, apparently unconscious that he was doing so. His dress was white pantaloons, half-boots, a military vest, white neckcloth, blue surtout, and cocked-hat.
Soon after this the most exaggerated statements were circulated regarding the defeat of the Prussian army. At one time the loss was rated at 20,000 killed, wounded, and prisoners; at another, their loss in prisoners alone, exceeded that number. Every thing, in short, wore the most gloomy appearance imaginable. In the full belief, therefore, that our allies had been totally routed, we commenced our retreat at ten o'clock, A.M. on the 17th of June, from the scene of our first triumph, towards the glorious plains of Waterloo.
To cover his real design, the Duke ordered the 3rd and 5th divisions to remain in front of Quatre-Bras, till the artillery, the foreign troops, and the other divisions should be considerably advanced on their journey. This manœuvre completely succeeded, for the retreat was never observed by the crafty Napoleon, until his equally sagacious antagonist was out of the reach of pursuit.
On perceiving us making off, the enemy pushed forward large masses of cavalry to harass our rear-guard, composed of the British light and heavy dragoons. Many brilliant charges were made on the occasion, in every one of which, where the latter were engaged, the French were invariably beat back. The light cavalry were not quite so successful.
While ascending the heights in rear of Genappe, the body of the gallant Duke of Brunswick passed us stretched on a waggon, with the fatal wound in his breast, exposed to public view. To that deadly wound, the soldiers guarding the precious relic, often pointed, and swore to avenge ten-fold, the death of their lamented Prince.
On the height above Genappe, the 5th division halted about half-an-hour. During which time, a few men were tried for wantonly firing away their ammunition. This is a common practice among foreign troops, and on occasions similar to this, it is but too much so among our own. It cannot, however, be too much reprobated, for besides being detrimental to the service, it endangers the life of many a brave soldier.
On the morning of the 17th, the weather was hazy, but before ten it had begun to clear up, and at noon the day was beautiful. About one, the air was extremely sultry, half-an-hour later, the clouds began to lour, and about two, thunder was faintly heard. In a few minutes, the horizon was darkened—the lightning flashed—the thunder rolled in terrific peals—and rain and hail poured upon us in prodigious quantities. In fine, one would have imagined that the elements had conspired with men, to render the events passing on earth the most important and dreadful recorded in history. In the midst of this tempest, we proceeded on our way, wading through mud and water to the knees. On our arrival on the position of Waterloo, we were ordered to bivouac in a newly-ploughed field, then little better than a clay puddle. By this time we were thoroughly drenched, our baggage was not to be found, and to add to other miseries, we could not get a drop of water to quench our thirst. To procure a supply, a fatigue party was ordered to Waterloo. Being first for that duty, I proceeded as ordered, and found draw-wells in abundance, but the ropes had all been removed, whether intentionally or not, I cannot say, but appearances were certainly against the Belgians. As a substitute, I buckled a few canteen straps together, but even these, aided by some fathoms of rope, did not carry a can to the bottom of any of the wells. After numerous fruitless attempts to get our canteens filled, we returned to our bivouac, where misery in its most hideous form stared us in the face. Just let any man fancy himself seated on a few small twigs, or a little straw in a newly ploughed field, well soaked with six hours heavy rain; his feet six or eight inches deep in mud, cold, wet, and hungry, without fire, without meat,—without drink, and a thin blanket his only shelter from the mid-night hurricane, and he will have a faint idea of what we suffered on the night of the 17th, and morning of the memorable 18th of June.
A sound sleep being a luxury which the men could not expect to enjoy, they seated themselves in pairs, and with their blankets around them, and their backs to the storm, amused each other as they best could till morning.