Adventures of a Soldier, Written by Himself: Being the Memoirs of Edward Costello, K.S.F. Formerly a Non-Commissioned Officer in the Rifle Brigade, Late Captain in the British Legion, and Now One of the Wardens of the Tower of London; Comprising Narratives of the Campaigns in the Peninsula under the Duke of Wellington, and the Subsequent Civil Wars in Spain.Costello, Edward
History
Adventures of a Soldier, Written by Himself: Being the Memoirs of Edward Costello, K.S.F. Formerly a Non-Commissioned Officer in the Rifle Brigade, Late Captain in the British Legion, and Now One of the Wardens of the Tower of London; Comprising Narratives of the Campaigns in the Peninsula under the Duke of Wellington, and the Subsequent Civil Wars in Spain.
Costello, Edward
Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Personal narratives, British
The following day, 12th of October, 1810, I rejoined my regiment
encamped near a small village on the lines of Torres Vedras, called
Aruda, where I found my old Captain, who despite his severe loss, had
scraped together a snug company, partly from men who had made their
escape from the French after the affair at Almeida, but chiefly from a
batch of recruits that joined our first battalion with the third of our
regiment that came from England while I was in hospital. Aruda was a
pretty little place enough until we mounted our picquets, when the men
dreadfully defaced it, perhaps from a belief that the French might
enter—a pleasure they never had.
The inhabitants whose fears had been enhanced by its exposed situation
had nearly all evacuated the place, taking with them only the most
portable and valuable of their effects, and leaving the houses, as it
were, furnished and tenantless. The change was the more extraordinary
from the circumstance of its pleasant site having for many years made it
a country resort for the rich citizens of Lisbon.
For a few days after our arrival, it presented a picture of most wanton
desolation. Furniture of a most splendid description in many instances
was laid open to the spoliation of the soldiery. Elegant looking-glasses
wrenched from the mantle-pieces were wantonly broken to obtain bits to
shave by, and their encasures, with chairs, tables, &c., &c., used as
common fire-wood for the picquets; an Israelite would have gloated over
the gilded embers, and have deemed perhaps one of them as under the
value of what our united fire-places might have been reduced to. These
proceedings, however, unravel the secret of spending “half-a-crown out
of sixpence a day,” and the philosophical reader will perhaps admit of
the plea, that if we had not, the French would have done it for us, an
event which we expected, though it fortunately never was realized.
Tom Crawley was particularly pre-eminent in this havoc; his enormous
strength and length fitting him especially for the pulling down and
“breaking up” department.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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