Memoirs of the Late War, Vol 2 (of 2): Comprising the Personal Narrative of Captain Cooke, of the 43rd Regiment Light Infantry; the History of the Campaign of 1809 in Portugal, by the Earl of Munster; and a Narrative of the Campaign of 1814 in Holland, by Lieut. T. W. D. Moodie, H. P. 21st Fusileers — John Shaqi
Memoirs of the Late War, Vol 2 (of 2): Comprising the Personal Narrative of Captain Cooke, of the 43rd Regiment Light Infantry; the History of the Campaign of 1809 in Portugal, by the Earl of Munster; and a Narrative of the Campaign of 1814 in Holland, by Lieut. T. W. D. Moodie, H. P. 21st FusileersCooke, John Henry, Sir
History
Memoirs of the Late War, Vol 2 (of 2): Comprising the Personal Narrative of Captain Cooke, of the 43rd Regiment Light Infantry; the History of the Campaign of 1809 in Portugal, by the Earl of Munster; and a Narrative of the Campaign of 1814 in Holland, by Lieut. T. W. D. Moodie, H. P. 21st Fusileers
Cooke, John Henry, Sir
Europe -- History -- 1789-1815
During our stay in the trenches, just below a mortar battery, the
enemy hardly fired a shot from the fortress, in the walls of which
were two breaches eighty yards asunder. The principal and wide-mouthed
breach had crumbled into a vast mound of sand, rubbish, and broken
masonry. A breach is indeed an awful mound of dilapidation to
look on, or rather a heap of disagreeable rubbish, particles of
which sparkle brightly in the sun beams, while the whole seems to
the amateur easy of ascent, but the wary veteran knows it to be a
deceitful slope, re-entrenched from behind, and most probably cut off
from all communication with the interior of the town. Well may it be
called "the deadly breach:" all fighting is bad enough, but when the
valiant soldier sees insurmountable obstacles before him, and finds
all his efforts unavailing, and death jostling him on every side,
his foot, perhaps, planted on the body of an expiring comrade, whose
bleeding mouth is filled with dust, and whose trampled uniform at last
becomes identified with the rubbish, and the human form no longer
distinguishable; and every instant the heap of the slain accumulating,
without any possibility of carrying the place,—then, indeed, comes the
"tug of war;" for, as a distinguished officer very justly observed, "A
breach may be made the strongest part of a fortification, since every
combustible, and power of defence, are brought to a known focus."
Having remained in the trenches a considerable time, we made for the
small town of Renteria, where we put up, with two convalescent officers
of our own corps, until the next day.
On the 31st the morning broke hazy. Meanwhile before starting for St.
Sebastian, we were introduced to Lieutenant Folliet, a young officer
of our regiment, who had just come from England for the first time;
he expressed much regret at not being able to witness the assault,
as he very properly considered it incorrect to leave his detachment,
which was ordered to march that morning for Bera. This circumstance I
mention, owing to the premature death of this officer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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