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
and eager, that even the horsemen rode in among the enclosures
striking at us, as we mounted the walls or scrambled
over the rocks. Just then, I found myself within pistol-shot
of the enemy, while my passage was checked by a deep
chasm or ravine. As not a moment was to be lost, I contrived
to mount to the edge, and, having gained the opposite
side, put myself in a crouching position, and managed to
slide down the steep and slippery descent without injury.
On approaching the river, a more open space presented
itself; but the left wing being harder pressed, and having
the shortest distance, the bridge was so crowded as to be
impassable. Here therefore we made a stand. The post was
maintained until the enemy, gathering in great numbers,
made a second burst, when the companies fell back. At
this moment the right wing of the 52nd was seen marching
towards the bridge, which was still crowded with the passing
troops, when M’Leod, a very young man, immediately turned
his horse round, called to the troops to follow, and, taking
101off his cap, rode with a shout towards the enemy. The
suddenness of the thing, and the distinguished action of
the man, produced the effect he designed. We all rushed
after him, cheering and charging as if a whole army were
behind to sustain us; the enemy’s skirmishers, amazed at
this unexpected movement, were directly checked. The
conflict was tremendous. Thrice we repulsed the enemy at
the point of the bayonet. M’Leod was in the hottest of the
battle, and a ball passed through the collar of his coat; still
he was to be seen with a pistol in his right hand, among the
last to retire. At length the bugle sounded for retreat.
Just then, my left-hand man, one of the stoutest in the
regiment, was hit by a musket-shot; he threw his head
back, and was instantly dead. I fired at the fellow who shot
my comrade; and before I could re-load, my pay-sergeant,
Thomas, received a ball in the thigh, and earnestly implored
me to carry him away. As the enemy was not far off, such
a load was by no means desirable; but he was my friend.
I therefore took him up; and though several shots were
directed to us, they all missed, and I was able, though encumbered
with such weight, to carry him safely over the
bridge. At length the assistance of another soldier was
procured. We then carried the wounded man between us,
and placed him on a car, when he returned me sincere
thanks.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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