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
Exposed as we were to the assault of a vigilant and
superior foe, not a moment’s repose could be obtained; and
it has seldom happened that personal courage has been
put to a severer test. Permit me to recite an instance:
John Walton, an Irishman, and Richard Jackson, an
Englishman, were posted in a hollow road on the plain
beyond the bridge, and at a distance from their piquet.
If the enemy approached, one was to fire, run back to the
brow of the hill, and give notice if there were many or
few; the other was to maintain his ground. A party of
cavalry, following a hay-cart, stole up close to these men,
and suddenly galloped in, with a view to kill them and
surprise the fort. Jackson fired, but was overtaken, and
received twelve or fourteen severe wounds in an instant;
he came staggering on, notwithstanding his mangled state,
and gave the signal. Walton, with equal resolution and
more success, defended himself with his bayonet, and
wounded several of the assailants, who retreated, leaving
him unhurt; but his cap, his knapsack, his belt, and his
musket were cut in above twenty places, and his bayonet
was bent nearly double, his musket covered with blood, and
notched like a saw from the muzzle to the lock. Jackson
escaped death in his retreat, and finally recovered of his
wounds.
On the 27th, the cavalry being all over the river, preparations
50were made to destroy the bridge: torrents of
rain and snow were descending. The cavalry scouts of
the enemy were abroad, and a large party, following the
store-wagon, endeavoured to pass the piquet, and gallop
down to the bridge. The design was perceived and defeated.
Smart skirmishing was kept up all that day; but
the masonry of the bridge was so solid, that midnight had
arrived before the arches could be materially injured. We
then descended the heights on the left bank, and passing
with the greatest silence by single files over planks laid
across the broken arches, gained the other side without
loss: an instance of singular preservation, as the night
was dark and tempestuous, and the enemy almost within
hearing. The mine was almost immediately after sprung
with good effect,—I mean the bridge was ruined; while
we marched forward to Benevente, where the cavalry and
the reserve still remained. Here we re-entered the convent
which had given us protection on a former occasion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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