It was about five o'clock on that memorable day, that we suddenly
received orders to retire behind an elevation in our rear. The enemy's
artillery had come up en masse within a hundred yards of us. By the
time they began to discharge their guns, however, we were lying down
behind the rising ground, and protected by the ridge before referred
to. The enemy's cavalry was in the rear of their artillery, in order
to be ready to protect it if attacked; but no attempt was made on our
part to do so. After they had pounded away at us for about half an
hour, they deployed, and up came the whole mass of the Imperial
infantry of the Guard, led on by the Emperor in person. We had now
before us probably about 20,000 of the best soldiers in France, the
heroes of many memorable victories; we saw the bearskin caps rising
higher and higher as they ascended the ridge of ground which separated
us, and advanced nearer and nearer to our lines. It was at this moment
the Duke of Wellington gave his famous order for our bayonet charge, as
he rode along the line: these are the precise words he made use
of--"Guards, get up and charge!" We were instantly on our legs, and
after so many hours of inaction and irritation at maintaining a purely
defensive attitude--all the time suffering the loss of comrades and
friends--the spirit which animated officers and men may easily be
imagined. After firing a volley as soon as the enemy were within shot,
we rushed on with fixed bayonets, and that hearty hurrah peculiar to
British soldiers.
It appeared that our men, deliberately and with calculation, singled
out their victims; for as they came upon the Imperial Guard our line
broke, and the fighting became irregular. The impetuosity of our men
seemed almost to paralyze their enemies: I witnessed several of the
Imperial Guard who were run through the body apparently without any
resistance on their parts. I observed a big Welshman of the name of
Hughes, who was six feet seven inches in height, run through with his
bayonet, and knock down with the butt end of his firelock, I should
think a dozen at least of his opponents. This terrible contest did not
last more than ten minutes, for the Imperial Guard was soon in full
retreat, leaving all their guns and many prisoners in our hands. The
famous General Cambronne was taken prisoner fighting hand to hand with
the gallant Sir Colin Halkett, who was shortly after shot through the
cheeks by a grape-shot. Cambronne's supposed answer of "La Garde ne se
rend pas" was an invention of after-times, and he himself always denied
having used such an expression.