Early on the morning after the battle of Waterloo, I visited Huguemont,
in order to witness with my own eyes the traces of one of the most
hotly-contested spots of the field of battle. I came first upon the
orchard, and there discovered heaps of dead men, in various uniforms:
those of the Guards in their usual red jackets, the German Legion in
green, and the French dressed in blue, mingled together. The dead and
the wounded positively covered the whole area of the orchard; not less
than two thousand men had there fallen. The apple-trees presented a
singular appearance; shattered branches were seen hanging about their
mother-trunks in such profusion that one might almost suppose the
stiff-growing and stunted tree had been converted into the willow:
every tree was riddled and smashed in a manner which told that the
showers of shot had been incessant. On this spot I lost some of my
dearest and bravest friends, and the country had to mourn many of its
most heroic sons slain here.
I must observe that, according to the custom of commanding officers,
whose business it is after a great battle to report to the
Commander-in-Chief, the muster-roll of fame always closes before the
rank of captain. It has always appeared to me a great injustice that
there should ever be any limit to the roll of gallantry of either
officers or men. If a captain, lieutenant, an ensign, a sergeant, or a
private, has distinguished himself for his bravery, his intelligence,
or both, their deeds ought to be reported, in order that the sovereign
and nation should know who really fight the great battles of England.
Of the class of officers and men to which I have referred, there were
many of even superior rank who were omitted to be mentioned in the
public despatches.
Thus, for example, to the individual courage of Lord Saltoun and
Charley Ellis, who commanded the light companies, was mainly owing our
success at Huguemont. The same may be said of Needham, Percival,
Erskine, Grant, Vyner, Buckley, Master, and young Algernon Greville,
who at that time could not have been more than seventeen years old.
Excepting Percival, whose jaws were torn away by a grape-shot, everyone
of these heroes miraculously escaped.
I do not wish, in making these observations, to detract from the
bravery and skill of officers whose names have already been mentioned
in official despatches, but I think it only just that the services of
those I have particularized should not be forgotten by one of their
companions in arms.