Great Britain. Army. Regiment of Foot, 95th; Kincaid, J. (John), 1787-1862; Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Personal narratives, British
urging the fight, observed a Frenchman within a yard or two, taking
deliberate aim at his head. Stooping suddenly down and picking up a
stone, he immediately shyed it at him, calling him at the same time
a "scoundrel, to get out of that." It so far distracted the fellow's
attention that while the gallant Beckwith's cap was blown to atoms, the
head remained untouched.
The whole concern was but the affair of a few minutes, but we
nevertheless looked upon it as no inconsiderable addition to our
regimental feather, for the appointed alarm post of one of the
companies had carried it to a place where it happened that they were
not wanted, so that there were but three companies actually engaged;
and therefore with something less than half their numbers they had
beaten off six hundred of the _élite_ of the French army. But our chief
pride arose from its being the first and last night-attempt which the
enemy ever made to surprise a British post in that army.
Of the worthy pastor I never heard more--I know not whether the bold
Ferey paid the price of the information he had brought, in gold, or
with an ounce of lead; but certain it is that his flock were without
ghostly consolation during the remainder of our sojourn--not that it
was much sought after at that particular time, for the village damsels
had already begun running up a score of _peccadillos_, and it was of
little use attempting to wipe it out until the final departure of their
heretical visitors.
Among the wounded who were left on the field by the enemy, there was a
French sergeant whom I have often heard our officers speak of with much
admiration--he was a fine handsome young fellow, alike romantic in his
bravery, and in devotion to his emperor and his country--he had come
on with the determination to conquer or to die, and having failed in
the first, he seemed resolved not to be balked in the other, which a
ball through a bad part of the thigh had placed him in the high road
for, and he, therefore, resisted every attempt to save him, with the
utmost indignation, claiming it as a matter of right to be allowed to
die on the field where he had fallen. Our good, honest, rough diamonds,
however, who were employed in collecting the wounded, were equally
determined that the point in dispute should only be settled between him
and the doctor in the proper place, and accordingly they shouldered him
off to the hospital whether he would or no. But even there he continued
as untameable as a hyena--his limb was in such a state that nothing but
amputation could save his life--yet nothing would induce him to consent
to it--he had courage to endure any thing, but nothing could reconcile
him to receive any thing but blows from his enemies. I forget how, or
in what way, the amputation of the limb was at length accomplished. To
the best of my recollection death had already laid a hand upon him,
and it was done while he was in a state of insensibility. But be that
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account