A British Rifle Man: The Journals and Correspondence of Major George Simmons, Rifle Brigade, During the Peninsular War and the Campaign of WaterlooSimmons, George
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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
assure you I have dined thus many times and felt much more real content
and pleasure than at a sumptuous feast. We now and then met with fields
of corn, and if the men were allowed to halt, they soon filled their
haversacks with ears, and boiled it when they arrived at the end of the
march.
An express arrived from Sir Arthur Wellesley desiring the Brigade
would lose no time in making a speedy junction with the Grand Army,
and the last twenty-four hours' march is almost unparalleled by any
soldiers after the fatigues we had already experienced. I had only
six ounces of mouldy bread and some bad water, which I got by the
road occasionally in passing, to support me for twenty-four hours,
in which time we marched fifty-two miles, resting three hours on the
ground. We certainly should have found a much greater difficulty in
accomplishing it had we not met several wounded British officers
riding from the field of action, who told us what was passing when
they left. Every man seemed anxious to push on, and all were in high
spirits, hoping soon to be on the field of battle and to assist their
brave countrymen. The cannons distinctly sounding on our ears as we
came near. I forgot to say that the dastardly Spaniards were running
in all directions, the field being covered with the panic-struck. They
received many a hearty curse as they passed us. After all our efforts,
we arrived on the field of battle just soon enough to be too late. The
horrid sights were beyond anything I could have imagined. Thousands
dead and dying in every direction, horses, men, French and English, in
whole lines who had cut each other down, and, I am sorry to say, the
Spaniards butchering the wounded Frenchmen at every opportunity, and
stripping them naked, which gave admission to the attacks of myriads
of pernicious flies and the heat of a burning sun. You may be sure
everything was done on our part and the commanding officer's to put a
stop to such horrid brutality and give assistance, but the ground being
covered for at least five miles with dead and dying, and we expecting
another attack, the army was drawn up in a line ready to receive the
enemy. Our regiment was posted in front of the army, but the French
thought proper to have no more of it at the present, and retreated
about three miles and beyond a river, which secured their front.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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