Burial of General Crauford—Anecdote of Ladrone! Ladrone!—Corporal Miles—Burial of Uniacke—A French seat of honour in jeopardy—A wolf! a wolf!—Deserters shot—Scene of execution—March to Castello de Vide across the Tagus—Execution of Corporal Arnal for desertion—Badajoz—A man dreaming of his head being off with his head on; singular fulfilment—Tom Crawley’s dislike to conchology—His alarms—The Duke of Wellington saluted by the enemy—Remarkable feature of the case—A French curative or an ill-wind, &c.

The second day after the storming of Rodrigo our brave General Crauford died of his wound, and the chief part of the officers of the Rifles went to pay the last tribute to his remains. He was borne to the grave by four Sergeant-Majors of his own division, and was buried in the breach where he fell. The Duke of Wellington attended the funeral of the gallant veteran; who, though most strict in discipline, was averse to punishment, and was beloved by the men for his justice and care for them, as well as for his bravery. The following incident, of which I was an eye-witness, will serve to show his character.

I happened to be on guard one day, when General Crauford came riding in from the front with his orderly dragoon, as was his usual custom, when two of our men, one of them a corporal, came running out of a house with some bread which they had stolen from the Spaniards; they were pursued by a Spanish woman crying lustily, “Ladrone! Ladrone!”—thief! thief! They were immediately pursued by the General and his orderly; the bread was given back to the woman, and the men were placed in the guard-house. The next day they were tried by a brigade court-martial, and brought out to a wood near the town for punishment. When the brigade was formed, and the Brigade-Major had finished reading the proceedings of the court-martial, General Crauford commenced lecturing both men and officers on the nature of their cruelty to the harmless inhabitants, as he called the Spaniards. He laid particular stress on our regiment, who, he said, committed more crimes than the whole of the British Army. “Besides, you think,” said he, “because you are riflemen, and more exposed to the enemy’s fire than other regiments, that you are to rob the inhabitants with impunity; but, while I command you, you shall not:” then turning round to the corporal, who stood in the centre of the square, he said, with a stern voice, “Strip, Sir.”

The corporal, whose name was Miles, never said a word until tied up to a tree, when turning his head round as far as his situation would allow, and seeing the General pacing up and down the square, he said, “General Crauford, I hope you will forgive me.” The General replied, “No, Sir, your crime is too great.” The poor corporal, whose sentence was, to be reduced to the pay and rank of a private soldier, and to receive a punishment of one hundred and fifty lashes, and the other man two hundred, then addressed the General to the following effect:

“Do you recollect, Sir, when you and I were taken prisoners, when under the command of General Whitelock, in Buenos Ayres? We were marched prisoners, with a number of others, to a sort of pound surrounded with a wall.—There was a well in the centre, out of which I drew water with my mess-tin, by means of canteen straps, I collected from the men, who were prisoners like myself.—You sat on my knapsack; I parted my last biscuit with you. You then told me you would never forget my kindness to you. It is now in your power, Sir. You know how short we have been of rations for some time.”

These words were spoken by the corporal in a mild and respectful accent, which not only affected the General, but the whole square. The bugler, who stood waiting to commence the punishment close to the corporal, received the usual nod from the Bugle-Major to begin. The first lash the corporal received the General started, and turned hurriedly round, said, “What’s that, what’s that; who taught that bugler to flog? Send him to drill—send him to drill! He cannot flog—he cannot flog! Stop! stop! Take him down! take him down! I remember it well—I remember it well!” while he paced up and down the square, muttering to himself words that I could not catch; at the same time blowing his nose, and wiping his face with his handkerchief, trying to hide the emotion that was so evident to the whole square.

While untying the corporal a dead silence prevailed for some time, until our gallant General recovered a little his noble feeling, when he uttered, with a broken accent, “Why does a brave soldier like you commit these crimes?” Then beckoning to his orderly to bring his horse, he mounted and rode off. It is needless to say that the other man also was pardoned, and in a few days the corporal was restored to his rank. On the death of Captain Uniacke, Captain Smith, now the celebrated Sir Harry Smith, was appointed Captain of my company. He being on the staff, his brother, Lieutenant Thomas Smith, now Barrack Master at Chatham, took command.

On the fourth day, after we had taken the town, the company received orders to pay the last tribute to our Captain, Uniacke. We marched under the command of Lieutenant Smith, and arrived at Gallegos about twelve o’clock. The men having plenty of money, which they had obtained at Rodrigo, got drinking, and actually while conveying the body to the grave, stumbled under the weight of the coffin, and the lid not having been nailed down, out rolled the mangled remains of our brave Captain, to the consternation of a number of French officers, en parole (prisoners from Rodrigo). One more careless than the rest viewed the occurrence with a kind of malicious sneer, which so enraged our men, that one of them taking the little tawny-looking Italian by the nape of the neck, kicked his hind-quarters soundly for it.

I could not, at the time, help remarking the very undersized appearance of the Frenchmen. They were the ugliest set I ever saw, and seemed to be the refuse of their army, and looked more like Italians than Frenchmen.

On our return to El Bodon, one of the men overpowered with liquor, laid himself down to sleep in the wood that separates the road from Gallegos. Poor fellow, it was his last sleep, for on the roll being called, a party was sent in search of him, and discovered his body under a tree, torn to pieces by the wolves, which greatly infested that part of Spain.

I now have to relate one of those melancholy incidents peculiar to a soldier’s life, that occurred while we remained at El Bodon. On taking Rodrigo we had captured, among others, ten men who had deserted from our division. These were condemned to be shot. The place of execution was on a plain near Ituera, where our division was drawn up, forming three sides of a square; the culprits, as usual, being placed in front of a trench, dug for a grave, on the vacant side.

Two of the deserters, the one a man of the same company as myself, named Hudson, and a very handsome fellow who had been persuaded into the rash step, were pardoned on the ground. The other a corporal, named Cummins, of the 52nd regiment, and who had been mainly instrumental, I believe, in getting the others to desert with him, was placed on the fatal ground in a wounded state. He had been particularly noticed at Rodrigo in one of the breaches, most actively employed, opposing our entrance, and cheering on the besieged to resist us. This man was pardoned also. Why he was pardoned I cannot say.

As this was the first military execution I had ever witnessed, I felt not a little curiosity to see the forms pursued. A large trench had been dug as a grave for the wretched men who were to suffer. Along the summit of the little heap of mould that had been thrown up from the pit, the deserters were placed in a row, with their eyes bandaged, so that on receiving the fatal volley they should fall forward into the trench. Some of the poor fellows, from debility, were unable to kneel, and lay at their length, or crouched up into an attitude of despair, upon the loose earth.

The signal to the firing party was given by a motion of the provost’s cane, when the culprits were all hurried together into eternity, with the exception of one man of the 52nd, who, strange to say, remained standing and untouched. His countenance, that before had been deadly pale, now exhibited a bright flush. Perhaps he might have imagined himself pardoned; if so, however, he was doomed to be miserably deceived, as the following minute two men of the reserve came up and fired their pieces into his bosom, when giving a loud scream, that had a very horrible effect upon those near, he sprang forward into his grave. To prevent unnecessary suffering, a reserve firing party was brought up, who continued to fire wherever the slightest sign of life exhibited itself in the bodies, the provost himself winding up the tragedy by discharging a pistol-shot through the head of each corpse.

After this very solemn and impressive scene, we were marched in column of companies round the dead, so that the spectacle might be witnessed by every man in the division.

About the 26th of February we broke up our cantonments in the environs of Ciudad Rodrigo, and crossing the Tagus, marched southward for six or seven days, at the expiration of which our division took up their quarters in and about the town of Castello de Vide. The country around the town was the most fruitful and luxuriant I had ever beheld. It was bounded with the most delightful hills and valleys, that produced in abundance the finest fruits, such as grapes, pomegranates, oranges, and lemons. As may be supposed, the men were delighted with such a paradise. The wine was so plentiful, that our fellows, while they remained here, made it an invariable custom to boil their meat in it.

Another unhappy criminal was here doomed to pay the forfeit of the crime of desertion. When we took Rodrigo, he made his escape from the town, and on his way to join the French at Salamanca was captured by some of the Spanish troops, and brought back to the regiment a prisoner. The fate of this man (Arnal by name), who had been a corporal in our battalion, excited much commiseration. I knew him well: he was an exceedingly fine-looking fellow, and up to the period of his unhappy departure from duty, noted for possessing the best qualities of a soldier. Some harshness on the part of an officer was the cause of Arnal’s desertion; but from the circumstance of his previous good character and the fact of his having been marched as a prisoner for many days together during our march from Rodrigo, it was commonly thought he would be pardoned.

I happened to be on guard over him the night prior to his execution. In the evening the prisoner was playing at cards with some of the men, when the provost of the division entered the guard-room, and gave him the intelligence that he was doomed to suffer at ten o’clock the next morning.

Sudden and utterly unexpected as the announcement was, Arnal’s face was the only one that showed scarcely any emotion.

“Well,” he remarked to those around him, “I am quite ready.”

A short time afterwards he sent for the pay-sergeant of the company he belonged to, from whom he received the arrears of pay that were due to him. This he spent on wine, which he distributed among the men of the guard. Noticing one man with very bad shoes, Arnal observed his own were better, and taking them off he exchanged them for the bad pair, saying, “They will last me as long as I shall require them.”

The morning turned out showery, the division formed in three sides of a square, and the guard, headed by the band with Arnal in front, slowly marched round; the muffled drum beat in dull time the “Dead March,” and the swell of its solemn harmony, though it filled the eyes of every man present, only seemed to strengthen the glance of the doomed. He led the van of his funeral procession, like one who was to live for ever: his step was as firm and more correct than any, and I thought at the time, a finer soldier never stepped. Poor Arnal, I shall never forget when we halted at his own grave, the heavy rains had filled it half with water, which he noticed with a faint smile, and observed:

“Although a watery one, I shall sleep sound enough in it.” He then stood upright in a fine military position, while the Brigade-Major read aloud the proceedings of the court-martial. The provost came to tie the handkerchief round his eyes, when he coolly remarked, “There is no occasion—I shall not flinch.” Being told it was customary, he said, “Very well, do your duty.” Before this last office was performed, he turned round, and calling most of the guard by name, bade them farewell. As I nodded to him in return, I fancied it was to a dead man, for in two minutes he was no more. The intrepid and cool manner in which he met his fate, drew forth a general feeling of admiration.

A few days after the execution we marched for Badajoz, in the environs of which we arrived on the 17th of March. This celebrated city, of which so much has been said and written, stands on an extended plain equidistant three leagues from Elvas and Campo Mayor. The Guadiana which hereabouts forms the boundary between Spain and Portugal, flows on one side of the fortification, and connects with them by a bridge over its surface, one or two forts on the opposite banks. The fortress on all sides is surrounded by strong bastions to the number of thirteen or fourteen, which with trenches and other forts and outworks rendered it almost impregnable. In addition to these the Rivella a tributary stream to the Guadiana flowed round and through the trenches in our front.

Our battalion on its arrival took up its encampment on the Spanish side of the river, where we occupied a small hill, and for the first time during our campaigns made use of small square tents, belonging to the Portuguese.

The first night of our arrival we commenced laying siege, by breaking ground within three or four hundred yards of the town, Fort St. Roch and Fort Pumena rather on our left; we lost a man named Brooks, whose death was connected with a very singular circumstance.

Brooks several days before his death, dreamt he saw the body of a rifleman without a head: this apparition appeared three or four nights successively in his dreams. Some days after we had taken one of the forts from the enemy, our battalion was relieved in the trenches. On this occasion, as was very customary with some of us, Brooks, another man named Tracey, and myself, jumped out of the trench, exposing ourselves to a fire from the walls of the town while we ran to the next parallel. In executing this feat I was a little ahead of my comrades, when I heard the rush of a cannon-ball, and feeling my jacket splashed by something, as soon as I had jumped into the next parallel, or trench, I turned round and beheld the headless body of Brooks which actually stood quivering with life for a few seconds before it fell. His dream, poor fellow! had singularly augured the conclusion of his own career. The shot had smashed and carried away the whole of his head, bespattering my jacket with the brains, while Tracey was materially injured by having a splinter of the skull driven deep through the skin behind his ear. This circumstance is well known to several now living in London.

About the 22nd of March, a party was ordered to proceed to Elvas for the purpose of conducting some heavy artillery from that strong fortress for our own use against the walls of Badajoz; after placing six or eight large guns on things resembling sledges, the weather being exceedingly wet, it took twelve bullocks to draw each gun. On arriving at the pontoon bridge that crosses the Guadiana river, which separates Badajoz from Elvas, a distance of about three leagues, the bridge was so damaged that the guns could not pass over, so we were obliged to bivouac for the night amongst a party of sappers, stationed there for the purpose of repairing the pontoons.

After the bullocks were unharnessed, they began jumping and frisking about, to the no small amusement of our men, but to their danger, as it afterwards proved. The French seeing the bullocks grazing, commenced firing on them, as well as occasionally sending a twenty-four-pounder at our little party then stationed on a rising ground, amusing ourselves at the random twenty-four-pound shots as they hopped about. At night, placing our advanced picquet near the town, the remainder of the party turned into the tents of the sappers for the night, but their slumbers were not so sound as they anticipated, for at the dead but not silent hour of night, a round-shot came whirling through one of the tents, striking the pole, and brought it down on those within. Their cries having awoke those of the adjoining tent, they immediately flew to their assistance, and having relieved them from this new-fashioned man-trap, rats never flew with more agility than did the poor sappers from their lair. I could not forbear laughing at the scene, although attended with bad consequences, as one man had his thigh broke, and another his leg taken off at the calf. While helping to raise the tents every eye was intent, looking out for another French visitor in the shape of a twenty-four-pounder, but the drollery of a countryman of mine gave some zest to their serenity; instead of bolting like the rest, he coolly said, “Where the devil are you all scampering to? Sure you don’t think the French took aim? I wished they did, for if they had, by Jasus they wouldn’t hit our tent in a week! You may be easy then, for they never hit twice in the same place.” The two poor fellows thus dangerously wounded were comrades, and natives of Coventry, one named Green, and the other Gea. The next morning the sappers having put the pontoons to rights, the guns passed over, and we arrived safe at our own camp.

The greatest annoyance we experienced during the siege arose from the shells thrown at us from the town. Our works effectually screened us from the round-shot; but these dangerous missiles, falling into the trenches where we worked, and exploding, frequently did great mischief. Immediately a shell fell, every man threw himself flat upon the ground until it had burst. Tom Crawley, I remember, though tolerably fearless with reference to other shot, had a most inveterate dislike to those deadly visitors. His fears made him believe, that more of them were thrown where he chanced to be, than in any other part of the trenches. At night in particular, Tom was always on the qui vive: as soon as he beheld a shell coming he would call out, “Here’s another brute—look out!” and instantly fall on his face. This, however, did not always protect us, for the head was no sooner on the ground, than its presence was again required, to watch the falling splinters. These, from their composing large portions of the metal of the missile, descended with great violence, and were sometimes of themselves sufficient to crush a man into the earth.

Lord Wellington used occasionally to pay us a visit during the work, to make observations, and to examine the trenches, &c.

One day when Crawley and myself were working near each other in the trenches, a shell fell inconveniently close to us. Tom was instantly half buried in mud, awaiting the explosion. Perceiving it had sunk itself deep into the earth, the fuse being too long, I intended availing myself of the opportunity, to play a trick upon Crawley, by throwing a large lump of clay on his head directly the shell exploded, and so make him believe himself wounded. To obtain the clod I sprang at the other side of the trench, but exposed myself to a shot from the walls of the town, which immediately came in the form of grape, splashing me with mud from head to foot, and forcing me to throw myself back into the trench upon Crawley, who, in his fears, made sure that a shell had fixed itself upon his rear, and roared like a bull; in an instant, however, the sunken missile really burst; on the smoke dispersing, who should I behold but the Duke himself, crouched down, his head half averted, drily smiling at Crawley and me. Shot and shell pay no respect to persons, but the enemy did, as they seemed awake to the near vicinity of his Grace, and poured in shells, grape, and canister, with other delicacies of the kind, with unusual liberality, whenever he came amongst us; which they always appeared alive to. But the fact is, the Duke, like his renowned contemporary, had a remarkable cast of feature, which made him ever distinguishable, at an almost incredible distance.

Before I go further into my narrative I must detail an anecdote of Major O’Hare, my old Captain, who was noted for his excellent soldierly qualities.

We were on private parade one morning, when a party of convalescents from hospital came up. Among others was a sergeant of the name of Jackson, who had been absent from our company for the two previous years, during which period it would seem, he had been chiefly employed as hospital-sergeant at Belem, near Lisbon.

The Major’s aversion to absentees from the regiment was very well known among us, and we anticipated a scene—nor were we deceived.

“Is that you, Mr. Sergeant Jackson?” exclaimed the Major, as soon as the party came up. “And pray where, in God’s name, have you been for the last two years? The company have seen a little fighting during that period.”

“The doctors would not allow me to leave the hospital, Sir,” replied Jackson.

“I am sorry for that,” drily observed the Major. “All that I can do for you is, to give you your choice of a court-martial for absenting yourself from duty without leave, or to have your stripes taken off.”

The sergeant, after a little hesitation, preferred surrendering quietly his non-commissioned dignity to standing an inquiry into his conduct.

Turning round to the men, the Major remarked aloud, “By God, I will not have these brave fellows commanded by skulkers.” Then taking the sash and stripes that were cut off by the Sergeant-Major, he handed them to Corporal Ballard, observing at the same time, “You will not disgrace them.”

A very disagreeable duty, that usually fell upon a few of the best shots of the battalion, consisted in being obliged to run out, in independent files, to occupy a number of holes, that had been dug at night between our batteries and the walls of the town. From these pits, of which each man had one to himself, our particular business was to pick off any of the enemy who exposed themselves at their guns, on the walls through the embrasures. Many a Frenchman was thus knocked off by us. But it often occurred also that our men were killed or wounded in their holes, which made it doubly dangerous for the man of the relieving party, who, instead of finding a ready covering, perceived it occupied by a wounded or dead man. Before he could get a shelter therefore or remove the body, there was a great chance of his being shot.

While employed in this duty in front of our batteries, the tremendous noise made by artillery in both front and rear was attended at first by a most unpleasant effect, as it destroyed the sense of hearing for some hours after leaving the trenches. It was amusing, during the siege, to observe the motions of our artillerymen. They were employed almost incessantly, and their duties most arduous, as the batteries were the chief object for the aim of the enemy’s shot and shells. An artilleryman was always stationed as a sort of signal-man, to give notice of the appearance of either of these missiles, and it was remarkable to observe the quickness with which the men at the guns, on the word “shell,” would throw themselves on the ground for protection.

It not unfrequently happened that parties of men were sent out in independent files to pick up the dismembered legs, arms, &c., which sometimes might be seen scattered about by the bursting shells. This precaution was thought necessary to prevent any ill-effect their appearance might cause on the courage of the Portuguese, who were quite as likely to put the heels in motion as their heads.

On one of these occasions I remember observing a party of those gentlemen, after leaving the trenches, carrying across the fields to their camp ground the body of a wounded officer of theirs wrapped in a blanket. They had not proceeded many yards, before a ball fired from the town came bounding, half spent, along the ground. The Portuguese, unconscious of its approach, were just crossing the line of its progress, when the shot glanced between them, and entering the blanket, cut the unlucky officer in two. The bearers, terrified, immediately took to their heels, leaving the blanket behind them, which one of our fellows observing, “That it was an ill wind that did nobody good,” shaking the body out, instantly possessed himself of.

The effect of our twenty-four pound shot upon the wall gave notice that the breaches would soon be practicable. On the 5th of April a storming party was selected for the assault on the following night.