Quartered in Dover—Receive our new clothing, &c.—May, 1815—Receive
orders to embark for Ostend—We arrive safe—Bruges—Ghent—Brussels—15th
of June—Belong to the fifth division under General Picton—Descend the
wood of Soignies to Waterloo—Duke of Wellington arrives from
Brussels—Battle of Waterloo—I receive a wound in my right hand,
shatters one of my fingers—Return to Brussels—The pretty
house-keeper—The child—Its dead mother—Genappe—Scenes on the road to
Brussels—Arrival at Brussels—Numbers of wounded in the
streets—Kindness and attention of the Brussels’ ladies—The fair
surgeon.
SAFELY returned to England, and quartered in Dover barracks, our men
soon forgot the fatigues of the Peninsular campaigns; and being joined
by a batch of recruits, and supplied with new clothing, the old soldiers
once more panted for fresh exploits; for their souls were strong for
war, and peace became irksome to them—nor were they long disappointed.
In the beginning of May, 1815, we received orders to embark at Dover for
Ostend, where we arrived safe; from thence we proceeded through Bruges
to Ghent in open boats by the canal: here we halted a few days, and then
marched to Brussels, where we remained several weeks, not even dreaming
an enemy was near us.
On the 15th of June, as I retired to bed, at the hour of eleven o’clock
at night, I heard bugles sounding and drums beating through different
parts of the city. Equipping myself as quickly as possible, and entering
the market-place, I found the whole of our division assembling. I then
belonged to the fifth division, under the command of General Sir Thomas
Picton. Being orderly non-commissioned officer of the company at the
time, I received orders to draw three days’ rations for the men, the
chief part of this was left behind, as none but old soldiers knew its
value, or felt inclined to take part with them; some of the men,
however, cursed their hard fate for not taking away a portion. All
things arranged, we passed the gates of Brussels, and descended the wood
of Soignies, that leads to the little village of Waterloo. It was the
16th—a beautiful summer morning—the sun slowly rising above the horizon
and peeping through the trees, while our men were as merry as crickets,
laughing and joking with each other, and at times pondered in their
minds what all this fuss, as they called it, could be about; for even
the old soldiers could not believe the enemy were so near. We halted at
the verge of the wood, on the left of the road, behind the village of
Waterloo, where we remained for some hours; the recruits lay down to
sleep, while the old soldiers commenced cooking. I could not help
noticing while we remained here, the birds in full chorus, straining
their little throats as if to arouse the spirits of the men to fresh
vigour for the bloody conflict they were about to engage in. Alas! how
many of our brave companions, ere that sun set, were no more! About nine
o’clock, the Duke of Wellington with his staff, came riding from
Brussels and passed us to the front; shortly afterwards, orders were
given to the Rifles to fall in and form the advanced-guard of our
division, and follow. We moved on through the village of Waterloo, and
had not proceeded far, when, for the first time, we heard distant
cannon; it was, I believe, the Prussians engaged on our extreme left.
About three o’clock in the afternoon we arrived at four roads; at this
time there was a smart firing going on in our front; this, I believe,
was caused by some Belgians playing at long shot with the enemy. Here I
again saw the Duke of Wellington looking through his glass, as we halted
a few moments; this was at Quatre Bras, and immediate orders were given
by one of the Duke’s staff to occupy a clump of trees a little on our
left; our company were ordered to take possession of it. While
performing this task I could see the enemy emerging from a wood about a
mile on our right, which was rather on a hill, with a clear plain
between us. We had scarcely taken possession of the wood, when, for the
first time, I beheld a French cuirassier or vidette. He was in an
instant fired at by our men and his horse shot under him; he disengaged
himself from the stirrups as the horse was falling, waving his sword
over his head to put us at defiance, but he was immediately dropped by
another rifle-shot. I think I can venture to assert that our company was
the first of the British army who pulled a trigger at this celebrated
battle.
The enemy’s light troops, I could soon perceive, in extended order, and
in great force coming down to oppose us. This caused a corresponding
movement on our part, and we were ordered to take ground to our left,
passing close to a pond of water, the main road separating us from the
enemy. While executing this the French commenced a very brisk fire on
us, until we gained possession of a few houses on the main road on a
rising ground, which two companies of our Rifles instantly occupied. The
remainder of our division was now enveloped in one blaze of fire on the
plain before mentioned. But we remained very quietly where we were,
until the French bringing up some artillery, began riddling the house
with round-shot. Feeling rather thirsty, I had asked a young woman in
the place for a little water, which she was handing to me, when a ball
passed through the building, knocking the dust about our ears: strange
to say, the girl appeared less alarmed than myself.
Fearing that we might be surrounded, we were at length obliged to leave
the building, in doing which we were fiercely attacked by a number of
French voltigeurs, who forced us to extend along a lane, from whence we
as smartly retaliated, and a galling fire was kept up for some time on
both sides.
It is remarkable that recruits in action are generally more unfortunate
than the old soldiers. We had many fine fellows, who joined us on the
eve of our leaving England, who were killed here. The reason of this is,
that an old rifleman will seek shelter, if there be any near his post,
while the inexperienced recruit appears as if petrified to the spot by
the whizzing balls, and unnecessarily exposes himself to the enemy’s
fire.
Being hard pressed by superior numbers, we were at length joined by a
number of Belgians, and received orders to advance, which we did,
driving the enemy through the skirts of a wood, and passing a field of
rye, which obstructed them from our view. As soon, however, as we
emerged from the wood, a regiment of French infantry on our right
received us with a running fire. I was in the act of taking aim at some
of our opposing skirmishers, when a ball struck my trigger finger,
tearing it off, and turning the trigger aside; while a second shot
passed through the mess-tin on my knapsack. Several of our men were
killed by this volley, and Lieutenant Gardiner, a worthy little officer
of the company, was severely wounded in the lower part of the leg. We
wounded men made the best of our way to the rear; and on my return to
the house at the corner of the lane, I found the pretty Belgian still in
possession, looking out of the window, and seemingly quite unconcerned,
although a dozen shots had perforated the house: all our entreaties for
her to leave were in vain, as her father, she said, had desired her to
take care of the place until he returned from Brussels.
The dusk of the evening soon set in, myself and numbers of others
disabled, took up our quarters for the night in another farm-house lower
down, and some distance from the main road.
The house became soon thronged with the wounded of our division, who
were momentarily brought in, until the out-houses, courtlages, &c., were
literally crammed. All the straw and hay that could be obtained was
procured, of which, fortunately, there was plenty, and strewed
everywhere to lay the men on. To sleep was impossible with the anguish
of my shattered hand and the groans of my fellow-sufferers. The dawn
came on before we were aware of it, and ere it was light, our advanced
sentries were again in continual skirmish along the whole line; indeed,
the balls kept patting through the doors and windows as we lay there.
Such as were able to walk soon started for Brussels; but several of the
severely wounded were obliged to be left behind for want of conveyances.
We had not proceeded far towards the main road along a pathway partially
protected by a hedge from the enemy’s fire, when one of my companions
heard the cries of a child on the other side; on looking over he espied
a fine boy, about two or three years of age, by the side of its dead
mother, who was still bleeding copiously from a wound in the head,
occasioned, most likely, by a random shot from the enemy. We carried the
motherless, and perhaps, orphan child, by turns, to Genappe, where we
found a number of women of our division, one of whom recognised the
little fellow, I think she said, as belonging to a soldier of the First
Royals.
Genappe, also, was literally crowded with the wounded, who were conveyed
with every possible dispatch to Brussels. Feeling most anxious to know
the fate of our regiment, I stood on a hedgerow, on the skirts of the
village, when I descried the division retreating towards us, the rain at
the time coming down in torrents. I remained until some of the regiments
entered the village, together with many of our wounded, who gave me
information that our regiment, with the cavalry, formed the rear-guard.
I now retraced my steps the same road I had advanced, and once more
arrived at the little village of Waterloo, which many of our men never
saw again, as our battalion lost more on the 16th than on the 18th of
June. Here I stopped for the night. The cries of the wounded on their
way, in cart-loads, to Brussels, were most distressing, and many carts
broke down through being overloaded, and through their haste to get
forward.
It is curious to observe the confusion and uproar that generally exists
in the rear of an army in battle, while all in front is order and
regularity. Many people imagine the reverse. This, however, is generally
to be imputed to the soldiers’ wives and camp followers of all
descriptions, who crowd in great numbers, making inquiries after their
husbands, friends, &c., for whom they generally are prepared with
liquors, and other refreshments. I had no such ties, save my comrades,
who now were too busily occupied watching their enemies, and with their
own personal considerations, to have either time or opportunity to
inquire after mine. The crowds of carts, horses, &c., which thickly
thronged the roadway, were greeted on all sides by anxious faces and
earnest inquiries. But now and then as one of the vehicles hurried
along, a burst of laughter hailed it, and indeed, it seemed to bear a
load of a more enlivening nature than that which characterized the
others. My sound legs, for my arm only was wounded, and hung suspended
in a sling, enabled me to approach the cart, and scrutinise its
contents. My surprise was soon dissipated, and wounds almost forgotten,
in the merry features of my old friend, Josh Hetherington, who, having
received a flesh wound in the leg, was now being borne to the hospital
with other fellow-sufferers.
Josh, like myself, had no ties—no one to bring him brandy, &c.; but
wider awake, and better acquainted with the world, in the bustle of a
dark night, he had laid himself at his length on the inside of a cart,
and there awaited the current of fortune.
One or two women in search of their husbands he particularly knew, and
knowing also their spouses, he replied to their inquiries in as exact an
imitation of their voices, as one could reasonably give a man credit
for. The result was, that the bottle was instantly handed into his
hiding-place. Josh took sundry deep gulps, while the duped woman
continued anxiously walking by the side of the wheels, wishing to heaven
that the daylight, or some other light, would enable her to enjoy the
sight of her better half. The _dénouement_ of the cheat came with the
return of the empty flask, and a sincere hope from Josh that her husband
would find enough liquor left—and not be wounded at all—at all.
The disappointment and rage of the woman only gave rise to a burst of
merriment, in which the wounded men joined heartily, and the
circumstance travelled forward, among her companions, and accompanied
the cart the whole of the way to Brussels.
The next morning I proceeded slowly onward, for my wound, as yet, had
not been dressed. I could not help remarking on my way through the
woods, droves of Belgians, and even English, with fires lighted, busily
cooking, having left their comrades in contest with the enemy, and
apparently nothing the matter with them.
On my arrival at Brussels, and going to my quarters, I found it so
crowded with Belgian officers and men (some of them quite free from
wounds), that I could get no reception. It was about six o’clock in the
evening of the 18th. I was entering the large square, and gazing on some
hundreds of wounded men who were there stretched out on straw, when an
alarm was given that the French were entering the city; in a moment all
was in an uproar; the inhabitants running in all directions, closing
their doors, and some Belgian troops in the square, in great confusion;
loading my rifle, I joined a party of the 81st regiment who remained on
duty here during the action. The alarm, however, was occasioned by the
appearance of about 1700 or 1800 French prisoners, under escort of some
of our dragoons.
The panic over, I partook of a little bread and wine, and lay down for
the night on some straw in the square; and in spite of the confusion and
uproar, occasioned by the continual arrival of waggons loaded with
wounded men, I slept soundly. In the morning the scene surpassed all
imagination, and baffles description: thousands of wounded French,
Belgians, Prussians and English; carts, waggons, and every other
attainable vehicle, were continually arriving heaped with sufferers. The
wounded were laid, friends and foes indiscriminately, on straw, with
avenues between them, in every part of the city, and nearly destitute of
surgical attendance. The humane and indefatigable exertions of the fair
ladies of Brussels, however, greatly made up for this deficiency;
numbers were busily employed—some strapping and bandaging wounds, others
serving out tea, coffee, soups, and other soothing nourishments; while
many occupied themselves stripping the sufferers of their gory and
saturated garments, and dressing them in clean shirts, and other
habiliments; indeed, altogether careless of fashionable scruples, many
of the fairest and wealthiest of the ladies of that city, now ventured
to assert their pre-eminence on the occasion. It was enough that their
ordained companions were in need, to call forth the sympathies that ever
must bind the sexes to mutual dependance.
One lady I noticed particularly, she was attended by a servant bearing
on his shoulder a kind of pannier, containing warm and cold
refreshments: her age I guessed about eighteen, and the peculiarity of
the moment made her appear beyond the common order of humanity. She
moved along with an eye of lightning, glancing about for those whom she
thought most in need of her assistance. A tall Highlander lay near her
as she hurried along, and drew her attention with a deep groan, arising
from the anguish of a severe wound in the thick part of the thigh. The
soldier fixed his eye with surprise on her, as in a twinkling she knelt
at his side, and gently moving aside his blood-stained kilt, commenced
washing the wounded part; the Scotchman seemed uneasy at her
importunity. But with the sweetest voice imaginable, she addressed him
in English, with, “Me no ashamed of you—indeed, I will not hurt you!”
and the wounded man, ere he could recover his rough serenity, found his
wound bandaged, and at ease, under the operations of his fair attendant.
Such acts as these must ever draw forth our admiration.