Journal of the Waterloo campaign, vol. 1 (of 2) : $b kept throughout the campaign of 1815Mercer, Cavalié
History
Journal of the Waterloo campaign, vol. 1 (of 2) : $b kept throughout the campaign of 1815
Mercer, Cavalié
Mercer, Cavalié, 1783-1868 -- Diaries; Waterloo, Battle of, Waterloo, Belgium, 1815 -- Personal narratives, British
Our animals cared for, the next consideration was ourselves. The
men had provisions ready cooked in their havresacks, and therefore
soon made themselves comfortable; but we had nothing, could procure
nothing, and were likely to go supperless to bed. We had assembled in
a little circle, discussing the events of the day previous to lying
down, when, to our no small joy, the doctor made his appearance,
followed by one of the servants bearing the remnant of a large
meat-pie that yesterday had formed _part_ of our dinner at Strytem,
and which he, with laudable zeal and presence of mind, had in the
hurry-scurry of the morning thrust into our little cart, thinking,
good man, it might prove useful. No one can doubt that it did so in
a degree; but the sixth part of the _remnant_ of a pie went little
way to satisfy the cravings of our stomachs, which had had so long
a holiday. However, it was something, and we were grateful for it,
and thankful to our worthy Esculapius for having been so provident.
The meal ended and cigars lighted, we sat enveloped in our cloaks,
chatting and listening to the Babel-like confusion at the well, where
crowds were still struggling for water, until, one by one, we sank on
the ground, overcome by sleep, which for my part remained unbroken
until the grey dawn began to peep of the
_17th June_, when a popping fire of musketry, apparently close at
hand, aroused me again to consciousness of my situation. At first
I could not imagine where I was. I looked straight up, and the
stars were twinkling over me in a clear sky. I put out a hand from
beneath my cloak, and felt clods of damp earth and stalks of straw.
The brattle of musketry increased, and then the consciousness of
my situation came gradually over me. Although somewhat chilly, I
was still drowsy, and, regardless of what might be going on, had
turned on my side and began to doze again, when one of my neighbours
started up with the exclamation, “I wonder what all that firing
means!” This in an instant dispelled all desire to sleep; and up
I got too, mechanically repeating his words, and rubbing my eyes
as I began to peer about. One of the first, and certainly the most
gratifying, sights that met my inquiring gaze, was Quartermaster
Hall, who had arrived during the night with all his charge safe and
sound. He had neither seen nor heard, however, of Mr Coates and his
train of country waggons, for whom I began now to entertain serious
apprehensions. From whatever the musketry might proceed, we could see
nothing--not even the flashes; but the increasing light allowed me to
distinguish numberless dark forms on the ground all around me, people
slumbering still, regardless of the firing that had aroused me. At
a little distance numerous white discs, which were continually in
motion, changing place and disappearing, to be succeeded by others,
puzzled me exceedingly, and I could not even form a conjecture as
to what they might be. Watching them attentively, I was still more
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