A British Rifle Man: The Journals and Correspondence of Major George Simmons, Rifle Brigade, During the Peninsular War and the Campaign of WaterlooSimmons, George
History
A British Rifle Man: The Journals and Correspondence of Major George Simmons, Rifle Brigade, During the Peninsular War and the Campaign of Waterloo
Simmons, George
Peninsular War, 1807-1814; Waterloo, Battle of, Waterloo, Belgium, 1815
I joined my regiment at Valle on the 22nd of February, the place I
left them at, my health quite restored and my thigh much better. I
heard of Maud's regiment being on the other side of the Tagus in good
quarters; it induced me to go. He was delighted to see me. He regretted
much the account of poor John. I dined with him, and stayed until late
the day following. Before I left his quarters he gave me an excellent
dinner and plenty of good wine. I was much pleased with his manner of
living, having a good stock of useful and necessary things, a canteen
with knives, forks, plates, etc.—in short, everything useful, with a
donkey to carry them. He is very steady, and has saved money. I paid
him some very high compliments on his conduct. He is taller than
I, and I assure you a very handsome, stout fellow. I told him about
the little trinkets I had sent Ann from Lisbon, which, by the bye, I
hope have arrived safe; acquaint me regarding them in your next. He
means to make Ann some presents when he returns. The officers of his
regiment behaved very politely, and invited me to spend some days,
but that was impossible. My brother came a little way with me, and
with regret we parted. We continued at Valle within pistol-shot of
the enemy's sentries until 6th March. At daybreak we found the enemy
had left this strong position and withdrawn his piquets. Our Division
directly followed. The French went off in the night, consisting of
the rear-guard of 12,000 men. They had been for some days taking sick
and baggage to the rear and heavy cannon also. We passed through the
fine town of Santarem, which was dreadfully sacked. I was in the town
when full of people and wealth; this sight hurt my feelings much. A
few half-starved miserable wretches came to cheer us, nearly dead with
hunger. I looked for the house I was once billeted upon, but, alas!
only the bare walls remained. The unfortunate owner was a fine liberal
old man, and treated me very kindly. I made some inquiries, but could
hear nothing. We halted for the night in a village.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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