An even larger share than usual of the national gift for blundering at the beginning of a campaign was shown at the start of the great operations in the Peninsula. The force despatched was utterly inadequate. It was 20,000 men against 120,000. But even this little force was broken into fragments and despatched on totally unrelated adventures. Spencer was sent with 10,000 men to Cadiz; another body of 10,000 was despatched to the Tagus. By a happy chance—perhaps it would be fair to say by a happy flash of insight—Wellesley was given command of this latter expedition; but Sir Harry Burrard was promptly despatched to supersede Wellesley, and Sir Hew Dalrymple to supersede Sir Harry Burrard! Under this delightful arrangement the astonished British army had three distinct commanders within the space of twenty-four hours.
Harris describes the long and loitering pause at Cork, where the ships lay for six weeks, without disembarking the unfortunate soldiers. At last, on July 12, 1808, the expedition sailed. The landing-place chosen was the mouth of the Mondego. The Rifles, Harris records with delight, "were the first out of the ships. We were, indeed, always in the front in an advance and in the rear in a retreat." The heats of a Spanish summer lay on the plains and the hills; the roads were mere ribbons of sand, the watercourses were parched; and Harris's first experience of marching under service conditions, and on sandy Spanish roads, was very trying. He says:—
"The weight I myself toiled under was tremendous, and I often wonder at the strength I possessed at this period, which enabled me to endure it; for, indeed, I am convinced that many of our infantry sank and died under the weight of their knapsacks alone. For my own part, being a handicraft, I marched under a weight sufficient to impede the free motions of a donkey! for besides my well-filled kit, there was the greatcoat rolled on its top, my blanket and camp kettle, my haversack, stuffed full of leather for repairing the men's shoes, together with a hammer and other tools (the lap-stone I took the liberty of flinging to the devil), ship-biscuit and beef for three days. I also carried my canteen filled with water, my hatchet and rifle, and eighty rounds of ball cartridge in my pouch; this last, except the beef and biscuit, being the best thing I owned, and which I always gave the enemy the benefit of when opportunity offered.
"Altogether the quantity of things I had on my shoulders was enough and more than enough for my wants, sufficient, indeed, to sink a little fellow of five feet seven inches into the earth. Nay, so awkwardly was the load our men bore in those days placed upon their backs, that the free motion of the body was impeded, the head held down from the pile at the back of the neck, and the soldier half beaten before he came to the scratch."
A pleasanter description is given of the march on the following day. He says:—
"The next day we again advanced, and being in a state of the utmost anxiety to come up with the French, neither the heat of the burning sun, long miles, nor heavy knapsacks were able to diminish our ardour. Indeed, I often look back with wonder at the light-hearted style, the jollity, and reckless indifference with which men who were destined in so short a time to fall, hurried onwards to the field of strife; seemingly without a thought of anything but the sheer love of meeting the foe and the excitement of the battle."
Harris's "Recollections" have absolutely no chronology, or chronology only of the most distracted and planless character. A clear thread of narrative is to be obtained only by the process of re-arranging all his incidents.
The opening skirmish—the first splutter of British muskets in the long Peninsular campaigns—took place on August 15, and naturally the 95th, which formed the British outposts, were the actors in the combat. They erred by over-vehemence. They fell on so eagerly, and pursued so fast and so far, that they presently found themselves charging the entire French army, and were drawn off with some loss. Harris's description is brief:—
"It was on the 15th of August when we first came up with the French, and their skirmishers immediately commenced operations by raining a shower of balls upon us as we advanced, which we returned without delay.
"The first man that was hit was Lieutenant Bunbury; he fell pierced through the head with a musket-ball, and died almost immediately. I thought I never heard such a tremendous noise as the firing made on this occasion, and the men on both sides of me, I could occasionally observe, were falling fast. Being over-matched, we retired to a rising ground, or hillock, in our rear, and formed there all round its summit, standing three deep, the front rank kneeling. In this position we remained all night, expecting the whole host upon us every moment. At daybreak, however, we received instructions to fall back as quickly as possible upon the main body. Having done so, we now lay down for a few hours' rest, and then again advanced to feel for the enemy."
Wellington described the affair as "unpleasant" from the general's point of view; but apparently the Rifles found it very enjoyable.
On August 17 Roliça was fought. The British again erred by over-eagerness, the 29th in particular suffering heavy losses owing to the fact that the regiment went straight at the enemy's front instead of turning its flank. The battle, however, was on the British side a bit of characteristic, dogged, and straight-forward fighting. The French flank was turned, their front driven in, and they were compelled to fall back from one position to another till they finally abandoned the fight. Here is Harris's account, collated from the different parts of his volume:—