The Story of a Peninsular Veteran: Sergeant in the Forty-Third Light Infantry, during the Peninsular WarAnonymous
History
The Story of a Peninsular Veteran: Sergeant in the Forty-Third Light Infantry, during the Peninsular War
Anonymous
Peninsular War, 1807-1814 -- Personal narratives, British
the captured guns, and soon appeared on the right of
Houghton’s brigade.
Such a gallant line issuing from the midst of the smoke,
and rapidly separating itself from the confused and broken
multitude, startled the enemy’s heavy masses, which were
increasing and pressing onwards as to an assured victory;
they wavered, hesitated, and then vomiting forth a storm
of fire, hastily endeavoured to enlarge their front, while a
fearful discharge of grape from all their artillery whistled
through the British ranks. Myers was killed; Cole and
the three colonels, Ellis, Blakeny, and Hawkshawe, fell
wounded; and the fusileer battalions, struck by the iron
tempest, began to reel. In that moment, when the last
149particle of energy appeared to be gone, they arose in almost
unprecedented might, and surpassed their former selves.
Closing at once with their enemies, the strength and intrepidity
of a British soldier were exhibited in deeds
seldom seen. In vain did Soult, by voice and gesture,
animate his Frenchmen; in vain did the hardiest veterans,
extricating themselves from the crowded columns, sacrifice
their lives to gain time for the mass to open out on so fair
a field; in vain did the mass itself bear up, and, fiercely
striving, fire indiscriminately upon friends and foes, while
the horsemen, hovering on the flank, threatened to charge
the advancing line. Nothing could stop that astonishing
infantry. Their eyes were bent on the dark columns in
front; their firm, heavy, and measured tread shook the
ground; their dreadful volleys swept away the head of
every formation; their deafening shouts overpowered the
dissonant cries that broke from all parts of the tumultuous
crowd, as foot by foot, and with horrid carnage, it was
driven by the vigour of the attack to the extreme edge of
the hill. Here the last stand was made, with the hope of
averting this mountain torrent. But it was in vain: the
effort only served to increase the irremediable confusion;
and the mighty mass giving way, like a loosened cliff, went
headlong down the ascent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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