The Adventures of Captain John Patterson: With Notices of the Officers, &c. of the 50th, or Queen's Own Regiment from 1807 to 1821Patterson, John
History
The Adventures of Captain John Patterson: With Notices of the Officers, &c. of the 50th, or Queen's Own Regiment from 1807 to 1821
Patterson, John
Great Britain. Army. Queen's Own Royal West Kent Regiment; Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Personal narratives, British
The division was commanded by General Sir David Baird, a man with a
look of military daring, and as brave as a lion. By his presence and
example, the troops, (whom he never quitted,) were encouraged to
proceed with order and regularity, notwithstanding the sufferings they
underwent, under the painful circumstances of a retreat; and it was
not until mind and body had lost all spirit and energy, that disorder
or want of discipline shewed itself among the ranks. Exposed, as they
were, to the most unparalleled inclemency of weather, they submitted,
without a murmur, to a continuance of hard and trying service, enough
to bear down the strongest constitution. To describe minutely the
whole of the privations and miseries which they encountered, would far
exceed the powers of any human being: no one can possibly conceive the
full extent of what the soldiers were compelled to undergo, in the
course of this unfortunate campaign.
The passage of the Esla, a wide and rapid torrent, was an enterprise
attended with considerable loss and danger. On arriving at the margin
of the river, there seemed hardly a hope of being able to get across,
with so much violence did the current roll: and, uncertain as we were
of the part most fordable, it was a perilous attempt for those who
undertook to make the trial. There was, however, no alternative; to
the other side we were to go, at any risk, for, the enemy pressing
closely at our heels, the slightest delay would have produced fatal
results. We therefore dashed at it, and nobly did the men perform
their duty. Agreeable as the cool, refreshing stream may be in mild
regions, it was by no means a very delightful task to wade past one's
middle, or rather up to the neck, through the raging waters, upon a
bleak and cheerless day in December. There was no use whatever in
making any preparation, or in disrobing for the bath; in fact, there
was no time, but with all our harness on, we were compelled to make
the best way we could in the chilling promenade. Luckily a spot was
found, by which the advance was sent across, and the infantry,
following their leaders, struggled along, bearing their arms and
ammunition above the head. After much difficulty, plunging and
buffetting the angry flood, the whole at length succeeded in gaining
the opposite bank; from whence, having "shaken off the watery
dew-drops," and ranged ourselves in some sort of order for another
stretch, we pushed away by the main road leading into the mountains.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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