Adventures with the Connaught Rangers, 1809-1814

by William Grattan

The party from the village soon arrived, some bringing doors, others articles of different kinds of household furniture, such as chairs, tables, and bedsteads; but nothing in the shape of food was to be found. No doubt, had it been day, something might be got at, but warmth was what we stood in need of more than food. Several of us still carried the parboiled beef of the night before, and, when the fires were lighted, we made a shift to roast it either on our swords, bayonets, or bits of sticks, which we formed into respectable skewers. This operation finished, the fire around which each group sat or stood, in order of companies, their arms regularly piled behind them, was replenished with green and dry timber, according to our supply of each or both. The soldiers then placed their knapsacks round the outer part of the circle, and, having given the best place to their officers inside the circle, all lay down together, or at their own choice, with their feet towards the heat of the fire. Some arranged in this manner, others did not lie down at all; and those who had captured a door, propped it up as a defence against the rains and winds. There were others who got a blanket and fixed it with branches of trees and stones against some uneven spot, and lay down in the mud. It was, in fact, all mud and wet; and in whatever manner we accommodated ourselves, according to circumstances, whether walking, standing, or sleeping, it was of little difference. No matter what mood any of us might have been disposed to follow, the imperative had the call; and, as has been seen, we could not decline it. Verbum sat sapienti.

Thus ended the operations of this day; officers and soldiers were placed exactly, or nearly, as I have described. Many were so feeble as not to be capable of the least exertion; others, on the contrary, were hale and stout, and I myself was amongst the number of the latter. I had lain some time with my feet near the fire, but I dreaded an attack of ague, and I walked about to keep my body warm, which was but thinly clad. I had not been long on my legs, and I was at the moment standing near the small tent where Sir Edward Pakenham lay in his wet clothes, when a rush of pigs—the remnant, I suppose, of those that had escaped in the day—disorganised several piles of arms. The soldiers stood up, and every man seized his firelock. A Portuguese regiment near us, thinking the enemy were at their heels, began to fire right and left, without knowing what they fired at. Sir Edward Pakenham ran out of his tent, and while in the act of mounting his horse and giving directions to his orderly dragoon, the man was shot dead by the side of the General. It required some time before the confusion that prevailed could be remedied; but the soldiers never for a moment lost their presence of mind, and the 3rd Division was formed with astonishing celerity in battle array. The error into which the Portuguese had fallen was with some difficulty remedied, and, except a few men who were wounded, nothing serious happened. The pigs, who were the cause of all, escaped without any loss, but whether they ever found their way back to their original owners I know not. Trifling as the affair was, with troops less accustomed and less ready to face an enemy than those that composed the 3rd Division, it might have had a different result.

The march was continued the following morning. The troops commenced the retreat some hours before day. Towards ten o’clock the enemy’s advance were at the heels of the rear-guard, which, as before, disputed the ground. A rapid stream on the Rodrigo side of the village of San Munoz was to be passed before the rear could be considered safe. Many regiments had already forded the river, but one entire brigade was missing, and the haze was so great that it was difficult to distinguish any object clearly.

Pakenham’s division was already on the left bank of the stream, while the brigade of nine-pounders, commanded by that admirable officer, Captain Douglas, opened its fire on the French advance. This, for a moment, arrested their progress; but O‘Shea, at the head of fifteen hundred dragoons, passed between the French infantry and the river, and, disregarding the fire of our artillery, overtook the brigade before it had passed the ford. The confusion at this point was great; some men were sabred; but the fire of Douglas’s guns caused the French dragoons many casualties, and they galloped back to their former ground. The safety of the brigade which was missing was thus ensured; but Sir Edward Paget, who had gone in quest of it, and who knew nothing of what had taken place at the river’s edge, was taken prisoner by O‘Shea. We thus lost our second in command, as also many men; and the cavalry and artillery horses had become so enfeebled for want of forage, that it was manifest our retreat, if vigorously followed by Soult, would, as a matter of necessity, have been protected by the infantry alone; but Soult either could not or would not press us, and the remainder of the day passed over languidly.

CHAPTER XXIV

Sufferings of the army on the retreat—Jokes of the Connaught Rangers—Letter of Lord Wellington—The junior officers—Costume of the author during the retreat—An unusual enjoyment.

Notwithstanding the attitude of Pakenham’s troops, and the excellent arrangement of the park of artillery under Douglas, the troopers of O‘Shea still menaced the ford. A brigade of French guns ascended the heights, and opened their fire upon the 3rd Division, but they were replied to with vigour by Douglas, who on this day surpassed himself; and the decided superiority which his fire had over that of the enemy was so palpable that, after a short trial, the French left the heights. Day was drawing to its close, and our march, as usual, commenced soon after dark. The entire day had been one of drizzling wet, but, towards evening, the rain came down in torrents; the army had to march two leagues ere they reached the point marked out for them on the line of retreat, and it would be difficult to describe the wretched state of the troops. The cavalry half dismounted; the artillery without the requisite number of horses to draw the ammunition-cars, much less the guns; the infantry without shoes, or nearly so; and the roads, even in the broad day, nearly impassable, made the march of this night one of great loss. When a halt occurred, which was often unavoidable in consequence of the guide mistaking the way, or because of the narrowness of a part of the road, or the difficulty of ascertaining the pass of a river, those in the rear fell down asleep, and it was next to impossible to awaken them, so much were they exhausted; it then became incumbent on every man who was awake to rouse those in his front, who impeded the line of march, not only of the individual himself, but of the army in general. Nevertheless, many were obliged to stay behind, and were abandoned to their fate. None but the stout and hale could bear up against the inclemency of the weather and the want of food; but the worst of all was the wretched state of the horses of the cavalry and artillery. These poor animals, when they reached the place marked out for our resting for the night, had not one morsel to eat, for it was absolutely impossible to forage for them at such an hour and under such circumstances, and the consequence was that many died from cold and famine, either in the harness of the artillery or under the saddles of the dragoons.

It was nine o’clock this night of the retreat before we reached the ground where we were to rest, and we had scarcely lit our fires when the bullocks and kettles arrived. This circumstance—a rare one—put us in good spirits, and by the time we had eaten our first meal that day we became more gay, and the “boys” of the 88th had their joke about the slaughter of the pigs by the 4th Division, of which I have made some slight mention in the last chapter. That I might have said more on the subject I am aware, for it was a subject that much might be said upon; but, had I done so, my readers, perhaps, would consider me a bore. However, the Connaught Rangers would have, and had, their joke at the expense of the defunct pigs. Jack Richardson, of the light infantry company, said, “The poor craturs must be blind intirely when they run into the mouth of the 4th Division.”—“No,” replied my man, Dan Carsons, “they wern’t blind all out, but perhaps they had a stye in their eye!” This sally of Dan was loudly applauded; and this kind of gaiety of spirit never forsook the men of the 88th under any circumstances. It was well for themselves, and for the service also; for I believe no regiment in the Peninsula had more uphill work to contend against than the ill-fated 88th. No matter!—all that is past and gone now; and those who survive, and recollect the events that took place during their stay in the 3rd Division, are now changing positions; they had uphill work then—now they are going down the hill. It is, nevertheless, a galling reflection to those who bravely earned notice and promotion, to find themselves passed over, while others, of regiments in the same division, and under the same General, and placed in circumstances the same, and sometimes less hazardous, have been lauded and promoted, when we of the 88th were not even noticed!

But I am digressing. After Carsons' pun we soon fell asleep, and were again on our legs at four in the morning; but our appearance was greatly changed for the worse: several soldiers had died during the night from exhaustion and cold, and those who had shoes on them were soon stripped of so essential a necessary; and many a young fellow was too happy to be allowed to stand in a “dead man’s shoes.” Others were so crippled as to be scarcely able to stand to their arms. Ague and dysentery had, more or less, affected us all; and the men’s feet were so swollen that they threw away their shoes in preference to wearing them.

Scarcely any provisions were to be found, but an abundance of wine could have been easily procured from the different wine-caves in each village. The troops, once let loose in this kind of way, could not be restrained, and all discipline would have been at an end; therefore, no one ought to be surprised that Lord Wellington forbade the occupation of a town. He did his part in the grand scale, but those who acted under him were deficient in every way. Sometimes the troops were bivouacked in a muddy swamp, when dry ground, in comparison at least, was nigh. The consequence of all this bungling was fatal: the troops became ill and inefficient; they became discontented; and, to wind up all, the junior officers of the army were blamed for those things over which they had as much control as they had over the actions of the Dey of Algiers or the Great Mogul. The officers divided the misery of the retreat with their men, and it is well known that many of them had scarcely a covering to their backs. Scarcely a subaltern in the army had a dollar in his pocket, the troops being four months in arrear of pay; but, even supposing he had money in abundance, what use could he make of it? There was nothing to be had for love or money—we had no money, and few of us were inclined to make love; but even if we were, there was no one (the worst of it) to make love to.