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
In the winter of 1812 I was stationed at Gallegos; and
on the 13th of January, 1813, was promoted to the rank of
sergeant, in the place of one Hicks, who had recently died
at Lisbon. Soon after this professional lift, one of the
army physicians was desirous of inspecting such of the
non-commissioned officers and men as had been wounded,
183or who, through length and severity of service, were supposed
to require rest. Among these, I was one. On entering
the room, Surgeon Gilchriest related several particulars
concerning my past experience, when my name was included
in a list of men who were directed to return to England.
We then proceeded without loss of time to Lisbon, escorted
by a detachment of the 95th. Mules were provided for us
as far as Abrantes, after which we proceeded by water. I
am sorry to observe that several of our party, thus indulged,
ill requited the kindness shown, by drinking to excess; and
am sorrier still to add, that I was weak enough to swell the
number. The consequence was, that after a halt, when the
detachment was ready to proceed, we were unprepared. The
officer in command, a very young man, mildly remonstrated
with me on the impropriety of such conduct. I answered
with unbecoming rudeness; on which he drew his sword,
and I flourished my cane. Several men, wiser than myself,
then interfered, and mischief was prevented. My opinion
is, that a man altogether overcome with strong liquor is
beside himself, and should be consigned to the care of his
friends, if he have any, until he is compos mentis, and may be
safely trusted in social society. Next day I saw my error,
and made an apology for the rudeness of the preceding
day. When we had arrived to within six leagues of Lisbon,
we landed for a short time, waiting for the return of tide,
leaving in our boat a man named Latimer, in company with a
Portuguese waterman. During that interval Latimer, who
was in jesting humour, amused himself by soliciting the
poor Portuguese to give him cigars. Not receiving what he
expected, he foolishly took up a musket, forgetting it was
loaded, and presented the muzzle to his unfortunate companion,
jocularly observing, at the same time, that if he
did not give him a cigar he would shoot him. He accordingly
snapped the lock, and blew out the man’s brains,
which, with part of his skull, were scattered about the
184boat. On arriving at Lisbon, I was half afraid that the
officer with whom I had taken an unwarrantable liberty
might call me to serious account for the misdemeanour,
especially as it had taken place so soon after my promotion,
when better things were expected; but I had the happiness
to find that he knew both how to forget and forgive. He
was an English officer; which in every correct vocabulary
means a gentleman, and no mistake. He parted with me
in excellent humour, and presented me with a small pecuniary
balance at that time due for arrears of pay.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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