to fear from the enemy, "since the French drunkards were even more numerous than those of the British army." Small wonder that the major thought that his civilian brother would not understand such things. He himself realised, as probably did Wellington also, that fatigue had produced so great a craving for drink as to drive the men mad. To punish twelve thousand men equally implicated was, of course, out of the question, and fortunately there was no further opportunity of obtaining drink during the retreat. The incident, however, showed the temper of the troops, and, though many bore their hardships with extraordinary fortitude, and though all fought valiantly when called upon to do so, there is no disguising the fact that the discipline of the army as a whole was bad. The woman who, Major Rice says, was killed by the first shot at the Valladolid bridge, was the wife of a soldier of the regiment, and at the moment when the unfortunate shot struck her she was sitting by the side of her husband, eating her breakfast in fancied shelter. One wonders what the women of those days were made of, for numbers of them accompanied the army throughout the Peninsular War, and shared all the trials and troubles of their husbands. Numerous are the stories told of the heroism of these women, but why they were permitted to take the field is never made clear. With every regiment there marched several of them; children were born to them on the line of march; they died of fatigue; they saw their husbands killed in action, and sometimes they married again, while still on active service. Green, in his 'Vicissitudes,' mentions the case of a regimental woman (of the 68th) who married no fewer than four husbands during the war, each one dying or being killed almost before her eyes. One marvels at the indomitable courage possessed by these women of a century ago; and there were officers' wives who at times were present with the army, one notable case being that of Mrs Dalbiac, who, throughout the battle of Salamanca, seated on her horse, and often exposed to the enemy's fire, calmly watched her husband's performances in the fight. Nor was this courage restricted to British women, for every one knows the romantic story of the young Spanish lady who became the wife of Major (afterwards Sir Harry) Smith, after Badajoz, and thenceforward followed the fortunes of her husband in bivouac and camp until the end of the war.[73]