[27]. Picton headed the 3rd Division; Kempt its 1st Brigade. Colville commanded the 4th Division; Bowes its 2nd Brigade. Walker the 2nd Brigade of the 5th Division. The total loss of the British during the siege was 72 officers and 963 men killed, and 306 officers and 3483 men wounded. There were also 100 missing, mostly, it is believed, men whose bodies fell into the Guadiana or the Rivillas and were not found. This gives a total of 4924, so that Grattan’s figure of “over 5000” is hardly exaggerated.
CHAPTER XIX
Departure from Badajoz—The wounded left to the protection of Spanish soldiers—Subsequently removed to Elvas—The author leaves Elvas to join the army—Spaniards and Portuguese—Rodrigo revisited—A Spanish ball—Movements of Marshal Marmont—Fall of the forts of Salamanca—Amicable enemies.
On the 15th of April, 1812, the heroes of Badajoz took a last farewell of the scene of their glory and the graves of their fallen companions, and marched towards the banks of the Coa and Agueda, where, but a few months before, they had given proofs of their invincible valour. Indeed it might be said, without any great stretch of historical truth, that every inch of ground upon which they trod was a silent evidence of their right to be its occupant—so far, at least, as right of conquest goes.
Ill as I was, in common with many others, who, like myself, lay wounded, and were unable to accompany our friends, I arose from my truss of straw to take a parting look at the remnant of my regiment as it mustered on the parade; but in place of upwards of seven hundred gallant soldiers, and four-and-twenty officers, of the former there were not three hundred, and of the latter but five! At any time, when in the full enjoyment of health and vigour, this sad diminution would have affected me; but in my then frame of mind it acted powerfully upon my nerves. I asked myself, where are the rest? I suppose I spoke louder than I intended; for my man, Dan Carsons, ran out of his tent to inquire “who I was looking after?”—“Dan,” replied, “I am looking for the men that are absent from parade; where are they?”—“Kilt, sir,” replied Dan, “and the greater part of them buried at the fut of the ould castle forenent ye.” “Their bodies are there, Dan, but where are they themselves?” “Och, Jasus!” cried Dan to his wife, “he’s out of his sinces! Nelly! run and fetch the pig-skin of wine; you know how it sarved him last night when he was raving.” Nelly brought the remnant of the Tinta de la Mancha, and a few mouthfuls of it raised my spirits considerably, but the fever with which I was attacked was increasing rapidly.
The drums of the division beat a ruffle; the officers took their stations; the bands played; the soldiers cheered, and, in less than half an hour, the spot which, since the 17th of the preceding month, had been a scene of the greatest excitement, was now a lone and deserted waste, having no other occupants than disabled or dying officers and soldiers, or the corpses of those who had fallen in the strife. The contrast was indeed great, and of that cast that made the most unreflecting think, and the reflecting feel. The sound of the drums died away; the division was no longer visible, except by the glittering of their firelocks; at length we lost sight of even this, and we were left alone, like so many outcasts, to make the best of our way to the hospitals in Badajoz.
It is a task of more difficulty than may appear to the reader to describe the feelings that a separation, such as I have told of, caused in our breasts. More than half of our old companions—dear to us from the intimate terms upon which we had lived together, fought together, and, I might say, died together, for three years—were parted from us, most of them for ever!—the others gone to a distant part of the theatre of war, while we, enervated and worn down, either by loss of limb, or by loss of strength and vigour, were left to seek shelter under the roofs of those very people who had been so barbarously maltreated by our own soldiers. Nevertheless every one betook himself to the method he thought best suited to the occasion. Some caused themselves to be conveyed in waggons; others rode on horseback; and many, from a disinclination to bear the jolting of the carts, or the uneasy posture of sitting astride a horse, hobbled on towards the dismantled walls of the fortress. As we continued our walk, we met, at almost every step, heaps of newly turned-up earth, beneath which lay the bodies of some of our companions; and a little farther in advance was the olive-tree, at the foot of which so many officers of the 3rd Division had been buried. At length we reached the ravelin of San Roque.
The Talavera gate was opened for our admission; it was guarded by a few ill-looking, ill-fed, and ill-appointed Spanish soldiers. As we entered, each man we passed saluted us with respect; but the contrast between these men, who were now our protectors, and the soldiers we had but a short time before commanded, was great indeed; and the circumstance, trifling as it may appear, affected us proportionally. We walked on towards our wretched billets, and as we passed through the streets that led to them, we saw nothing but the terrible traces of what had taken place. Piles of dismantled furniture lay scattered here and there; houses, disfigured by our batteries, in a ruined state; the streets unoccupied except by vagabonds of the lowest grade, who prowled about in search of plunder; while at the windows of some houses were to be seen a few females in disordered dresses; but their appearance was of that caste that served rather to increase the gloom which overhung the city. Nevertheless, as the wounded men and officers passed, they waved their handkerchiefs and saluted us with a viva; but it was pitiable to witness the wretched state to which the unfortunate inhabitants had been reduced.