A British Rifle Man / The Journals and Correspondence of Major George Simmons, Rifle Brigade, During the Peninsular War and the Campaign of Waterloo

CHAPTER XIV

Journal—25th April-June 1815

The 1st Battalion embark at Dover for Ostend—Land at Ostend and proceed in barges to Bruges and Ghent—The Rifle officers call on Louis XVIII.—Reviewed by the Duke of Wellington—March to Brussels—Simmons is billeted upon Monsieur Overman.

Letter No. XXIV

To his Parents from Brussels, dated 19th May 1815

Describes embarkation—Brother Joseph left in England as adjutant of the "four skeleton companies" at the depÔt—The expenses of equipment for service—The voyage—Dreadfully sea-sick—Good quarters in Brussels—Many messages and good advice to his family.

Journal—15th-18th June 1815

The night of 15th June at Brussels—The call to arms—The Rifle Men march to Quatre Bras and get "a view of Johnny"—The British cavalry not yet arrived—The 42nd cut up by the French cavalry—The Rifles bivouac on the field of Quatre Bras—The morning of the 17th June—Breakfasts at a farm—The British Divisions retire and are joined by the cavalry—The French follow them up—Heavy rain and impassable condition of the cultivated land—The 7th Hussars charge—Also the Life Guards and Oxford Blues—The British army reach Waterloo and take up a position there—Cannonading till dark—Bivouac on the field—The battle of Waterloo—Dawn of the 18th June—The men clean their arms and prepare for the contest—The French "form to give battle"—No doubt now but that Napoleon himself was there—Delight of the old Peninsular warriors at the prospect of fighting under the Duke against Buonaparte—The French artillery opens fire—Disposition of the Division under Sir Thomas Picton—The Rifles on the chaussÉe by La Haye Sainte—Destructive fire from French guns—The latter are advanced, and the French infantry columns move to the attack—Terrible fire from the British Rifle Men—The French column stopped—Simmons receives a severe wound, and is dragged into the farm of Mont St. Jean.

Letter No. XXV

To his Parents, from Brussels, undated, but bearing a postmark of 1st July 1815

The march from Brussels to Quatre Bras—"A bloody and obstinately contested battle"—The retirement to Waterloo—The battle of Waterloo—The French cannonade—Advance of "immense columns in imposing masses"—"Proud and fierce appearance of the British"—Is wounded and trampled on in the mud for some time—Finds himself in the farm of Mont St. Jean—Mr. Robson, the assistant surgeon of the Rifles, cuts a musket-ball out of his breast—Dreadful nature of the wound—Sergeant Fairfoot endeavours to take him to the rear—The French fire "riddling the house"—The French press on, and the British have to fall back—Fairfoot puts Simmons on a horse and he escapes—Terrible sufferings during the ride to Brussels—Reaches his billet at Monsieur Overman's at 10 P.M.—Is bled and has a quart of blood taken from him—Followed by five more in the next four days—Is going on well, but very weak—Sends money to his parents—Expectations of a pension for his wound, which will "make them comfortable."

Letter No. XXVI

To his Parents, from Brussels, dated 21st July 1815

Refers to his last letter as being written on 1st July—Has a severe relapse two days after writing it—For seven days is in a desperate condition with violent inflammation—Is bled regularly two or three times a day—Followed by a stupor of four days—The inflammation returns with more violence—"The lancet was the only thing to save me"—Another seven days of misery—Gets worse than ever, so sends for the surgeon—Has "two large basins" of blood taken from his arm—The surgeon is alarmed and does not like to try bleeding again—An eminent physician prescribes leeches—Thirty are applied, followed by more, for three days—Suffers great torture—Robson tells him he cannot live—Distress of his poor little nurse (Mademoiselle Overman)—"Death has no pangs for me"—The thoughts of his family too much for him—Lies in a stupor for three days—Nature effects a cure—Monsieur Overman's kindness, and devotion of his "dear little nurse"—Is dreadfully emaciated, but "sound at heart"—Makes arrangements for paying for Ann's schooling—"The next letter will be from Paris."

Letter No. XXVII

To his Parents, from Brussels, dated 18th September 1815

Is able to walk about—First attempts to do so—Detailed account of the scene in Mont St. Jean—Sergeant Fairfoot although wounded, tries to put Simmons on a horse, but the latter faints—The French cannon-balls and shells riddling the farm—The surgeon's opinion of the wound and inutility of moving him—Desperate onslaught of the French—All who could crawl leave the barn—The dying Rifle officer—Sergeant Fairfoot returns and lifts Simmons on to a horse, also the other officer—Sends money to his parents—Paris "a sink of iniquity"—Fears it may corrupt the morals of the Rifle Men—Brother Joseph has more good advice—A celebrated surgeon inspects Simmons's wound—"The next letter will be from London."

Journal—25th April-June 1815

1815 April 25th

Embarked at Dover at seven o'clock in the evening; after passing the pier the wind was not very favourable. Arrived at Ostend on the 27th at daylight and disembarked from on board the Winsley-dale packet. Embarked again on board Dutch schuyts with six companies of the 1st Battalion, consisting of ninety-two men per company. The boats were drawn by horses. Arrived at Bruges before dark. Our boats halted for the night in the environs of the town. It being dark, had no opportunity of seeing the place.

28th

Sailed at 4 A.M. The country flat, but highly cultivated and abounding with everything. The people dirty, and had not the appearance of being a healthy peasantry. The country in every direction intersected with dykes and canals. Arrived at Ghent about 3 o'clock P.M. Got billets in the third section. My billet upon Mr. Barth, sugar merchant, Quai de la Grue, No. 29. The people very civil and hospitable, every one making the same observation. The houses very good and the town well supplied with vegetables and fish. In fact, it abounded with everything. Rhenish wine, 2s. 3d. per bottle, of most excellent quality.

30th

Paid a visit with all our officers to Lewis (Louis) XVIII., who was flattered by the compliment. The public buildings very good; the churches decorated in the Roman Catholic style. The statues in some of the churches are masterpieces of Art, and strike an attentive observer with astonishment at the natural appearance of the figures.

1815 May 7th

Reviewed by the Duke of Wellington, who was pleased to express his satisfaction at our appearance. In the evening went to the play. The house neither handsome nor well lit up.

10th

Marched to Alost; it being filled with Lewis's people, we went into the village of Wella.

11th

Halted.

12th

At 3 A.M. marched to Bruxelles. Arrived about 11 A.M. After much trouble got a billet upon the house of Mr. Overman, Rue du l'Etoile, No. 119. His family consisted of Monsieurs Jack, Albert, Edward, Gustavus, Mademoiselle Julia, Harriott, Ulalia, Mademoiselle Bolinus, Madame Notter, M. Lusmar. Continued here very comfortable until 15th June.

Letter No. XXIV

Bruxelles, 19th May 1815.

Dear Parents—On the 27th of April five companies of the 1st Battalion embarked on board packet boats at Dover. As the senior officers of each rank had the refusal of going, the juniors were under the necessity of staying at home, which was a very great mortification to Joseph. However, if we commence hostilities he will soon be wanted to fill the place of some unlucky fellow that may bite the dust.

Four skeleton companies remained behind. Joseph was made adjutant of the depÔt. He will have to drill the recruits and young officers. He takes a delight in his duty, and I have no doubt he will fill the situation with credit. It is highly flattering to my feelings to see him pitched upon for a situation of such responsibility by the commanding officer. When I embarked it was nearly dark. Our Boys had been stationed some time at Dover, and the people came in crowds to see us off, cheered us, and wished us success. It was at the same place that in 1809 I embarked with as fine a regiment as ever left England. Joseph was very sorry to part from me. I wanted him to come on board and sup, but he would take nothing, and said, "I must leave you." He assured me that through life he would always be a friend to you, and if anything happened to me he would endeavour to become your protector and tread in my steps. I have no doubt of him; he is everything that I could wish. The moment at parting proved his heart, and makes me daily bless the Almighty for putting it in my power to serve him.

I think soon he will be able to send you some money. I was put to much expense in providing the necessary articles for service. I managed to buy a baggage horse, which cost 15 guineas, and 3 guineas for embarking. I shall have £20 in July, but that is some time to look forward to. When I get it I will transmit the money. I have not yet got a riding horse, but I must buy one; my legs will never carry me through a long campaign. After a day's march I am lame. If I get hit again they must promote me or recommend me for Chelsea.

I was dreadfully sick all the way to Ostend. My throat swelled with vomiting to such a degree that I could scarcely speak for a week after. I saw very little of Ostend. We embarked upon the canal and arrived at Bruges in the evening. The next morning we moved forward to Ghent, a very fine town, the people remarkably civil, provisions and wine very cheap. Louis XVIII. is at this place. Our officers paid him a visit on the 13th. We marched to this town, which is very large. I have a room in a garden. The officers who mess with me prefer dining at my house, as I have the use of a delightful summer-house. At present we are enjoying ourselves. Rumour says Buonaparte is concentrating his forces, and means to attack us very soon; for my part, I do not care how soon. I hope I shall see Paris before the summer is over, in a whole skin.

I hope my sister still continues to apply diligently to her studies. If she cannot pay Mrs. Sterling exactly as she could wish, I will be bound to pay the money for her. Do not let that damp her ardour or give uneasiness. I would rather sell anything I have got than suffer any of them being neglected on so essential a point as education.

I hope Charles is going on well, and Betsy also. If they endeavour to become clever I shall bring them some pretty things when I return.

I suppose Joseph sent the parcel after I left England. I have not written to him yet.

Let me know Charlie's age and his height, as I want to ascertain when he will be able to commence his military career. I wish he was big enough. However, we must wait patiently.

I regret much having lost my old servant. His time of service was out previous to my leaving England. I was this morning obliged to turn off[27] some of our men for drunkenness. Liquor is so cheap here, the people give them it. My cook spoiled my dinner yesterday. I had friends dining, which made it more provoking. I am, as caterer to a mess, something like the father of a family. I always fed the officers in whatever company I belonged to. Major Beckwith is still with the company. He will go upon the staff very soon. On my own account I regret his leaving; he is the most worthy of men. I am led to expect something handsome when the prize money for Spain is paid. It is expected to be paid soon. I hope it may. I shall empower Joseph to receive it, and send it to you.—Yours ever sincerely,

Geo. Simmons.

Direct, 1st Battalion, 95th Regiment, British Army, Netherlands.

Journal—15th-18th June 1815

1815 June 15th

At 11 o'clock P.M., when in bed, my servant came to rouse me, saying the assembly was sounding. I directly dressed myself and went to our alarm post. Our Division (the 5th) formed in column of regiments near the park and waited for orders. We had many vague reports in circulation about the French.

16th

At daylight we marched through the Port de Namur. Numbers of people came to see us leave the town. We marched through Waterloo and halted. I lay down for an hour. The Duke of Wellington passed with his staff. The Division fell in and moved forward to Quatre Bras, where we had a view of Johnny.

The enemy commenced a cannonade, and our regiment filed through high corn to the left. Four companies were sent to drive Johnny from some fields intersected with thick hedges and also ditches, which we effected.

On this day our cavalry had not arrived, which gave the enemy a decided advantage, and made us keep nearer each other than otherwise would have been necessary. The Cuirassiers charged the 42nd and cut through them, but on recovering themselves they formed a square, and the Cuirassiers paid dear in turn for their temerity.

Until dark we had very sharp fighting.[28]

A man of ours was left near the French. When it fell dark I went with three men to fetch him away. Both the poor fellow's legs were broken. I deposited him in a house and joined my regiment. Our Division formed in column of companies at wheeling distance, the officers on the left of their respective companies. In this way we lay down. I pulled a greatcoat off a Cuirassier who was dead, and covered myself, which made me sleep well till one hour before daylight.

17th

The piquets began to fire. We directly stood to our arms. As soon as the day cleared we commenced firing at each other merely for amusement. I got a fire kindled, and purchased from a farmer, ham, etc. I made a good breakfast. This man's house contained upwards of fifty wounded French. Our men gave them water. About 11 A.M. the 5th and 3rd Divisions who had fought the day before, being the only part of the army engaged, retired. We soon were joined by the cavalry. The enemy followed close after us. The rain began to fall in torrents. The country being in a high state of cultivation, covered with corn, and the ground remarkably soft, the cavalry could scarcely raise a canter, the animals sank so deep. The 7th Hussars charged, but were sadly mauled. The Life Guards and Oxford Blues made some very fine charges, and literally preserved the 7th from being cut to pieces. About 3 o'clock in the afternoon the whole army moved into position in front of Waterloo. The enemy in parties reconnoitred, and was amused with the music of our cannon till dark. The night was very bad. The field where we were was all mud. I got a bundle of straw to lie upon, and I smeared an old blanket with thick clayey mud, and covered myself with the blanket, which prevented the rain from passing through, and kept me tolerably warm.

18th

At daylight the weather cleared. The men commenced cleaning their arms and preparing for the tremendous contest. We were soon convinced the French were forming to give us battle, and had no doubt but Napoleon himself was there. Many old warriors who had fought for years in the Peninsula were proud of being pitted with our gallant chief against Buonaparte and the flower of France. About 11 o'clock in the morning the enemy commenced a heavy cannonade upon our line, which was spiritedly returned from us. The 2nd Brigade of our Division occupied the extreme left of the line, the 1st 95th were upon the chaussÉe to Charleroi from Bruxelles; 32nd, 79th, and 28th on the left, under the command of Sir J. Kempt; Sir D. Pack commanded the 2nd Brigade; Sir Thos. Picton commanded this Division. Our Brigade formed column and, from being much exposed to the enemy's guns, suffered severely. About 1 o'clock the enemy's guns were moved nearer. We knew the attack must soon commence, and under cover of their guns, four columns now made their appearance, amounting to 20,000 men. They moved steadily towards us. We formed a sort of line and commenced a terrible fire upon them, which was returned very spiritedly, they advancing at the same time within a few yards. I had an impression I should not be touched, and was laughing and joking with a young officer about half-past four in the afternoon. At this time I was a little in front of our line, and hearing the word charge, I looked back at our line, and received a ball, which broke two of my ribs near the backbone, went through my liver, and lodged in my breast. I fell senseless in the mud, and some minutes after found our fellows and the enemy hotly engaged near me. Their skirmishers were beaten back and the column stopped. Two men dragged me away to the farm of Mont St. Jean, a little to the rear, where Mr. Robson extracted a musket-ball from my breast.

[Waterloo Journal ends. The preceding was apparently written in Brussels between 1st and 3rd July 1815.]

Letter No. XXV

[Undated but bearing post-mark of 1st July.]

Bruxelles, 1815

My dear Parents—Through the blessings of Almighty God I am at last able to give you some account of myself, which I never expected to be able to do in this world. On the 16th of June, after passing a long tranquillity at this place, our Division marched at 4 o'clock in the morning. We moved forward 20 miles and gave the French battle. A more bloody or obstinately contested thing had seldom or never been seen. This convinced me that the French would fight for Buonaparte. The darkness of the night only separated us.

The following day was passed principally in reconnoitring and squibbing at one another; nothing done of consequence. Towards noon retired to a position. Our cavalry and the French had some charging and sabring each other. The rain fell in torrents, and continued raining all the night.

On the 18th the French seemed to be very busy moving immense columns opposite us preparatory to an attack. About noon they commenced a cannonade, from, I daresay, 150 pieces of cannon, which was very soon answered by us. Immense columns in imposing masses now moved towards us. If you could have seen the proud and fierce appearance of the British at that tremendous moment, there was not one eye but gleamed with joy. The onset was terrible. After four hours' exposure to it I received the dangerous wound which laid me amongst many others in the mud. Most of the men with me were killed, so it was some time before any officer noticed me, and not until I had been trampled over many times. The next place I found myself in was where the men and officers had been collected for the surgeon. A good surgeon, a friend of mine, instantly came to examine my wound. My breast was dreadfully swelled. He made a deep cut under the right pap, and dislodged from the breast-bone a musket-ball. I was suffocating with the injury my lungs had sustained. He took a quart of blood from my arm. I now began to feel my miseries. Sergeant Fairfoot was also here wounded in the arm. He got me everything he could, and said he would go and knock some French prisoner off his horse for me in order to get me off. The balls were riddling the house we were in. He got me a horse. They tried to lift me upon it, but I fainted; some other officer took it. In consequence of a movement the French made with all their forces, our people were obliged to retire. If I stayed I must be a prisoner, and being a prisoner was the same as being lost. Poor Fairfoot was in great agitation. He came with another horse. I remember some Life Guardsmen helped me on. Oh what I suffered! I had to ride twelve miles. I forgot to tell you the ball went through my ribs, and also through my body. The motion of the horse made the blood pump out, and the bones cut the flesh to a jelly. I made my way to the house I had been billeted on—very respectable people. I arrived about 10 o'clock on that doleful night. The whole family came out to receive me. The good man and his wife were extremely grieved. I had everything possible got for me, a surgeon sent for, a quart of blood taken from me, wrapped up in poultices, and a most excellent nurse. In four days I had six quarts of blood taken from me, the inflammation ran so high in my lungs. At present everything is going on well. I am so weak, if I lift my head from the pillow I faint. I have sent you a five-pound note. This business has bothered me, but I shall get a year's pay, and most likely a pension, which will enable me to make you comfortable. My love to you all. Remember me kindly to my uncle. It distresses me that I cannot send Ann the sum she wants. She shall have it soon. A number of our officers are wounded in the town. Poor Lister was killed the first day. He was wounded in the stomach, and died a few hours after. We have so many applications for commissions in this regiment that it would be impossible to do anything in the way that Ann wishes. The only plan I can advise is, should there be a turning out into the line, to volunteer into any regiment the colonel may wish.

I am not allowed any person to help me, so I know nothing, and for God's sake do not talk about me or show this.

[The above bears no signature.]

Letter No. XXVI

Bruxelles, 21st July 1815.

Dear Parents—I wrote you on the 1st of July. Enclosed in the letter was a £5 Bank of England note, which at the time I could ill spare, but was afraid you were much in want of money. If you directed your letter to me, 1st Battalion, 95th Regiment, wounded, Bruxelles, Netherlands, the letter would have come to hand. I am afraid you directed it some other way.

On the 3rd I was attacked with convulsions, and at night with vomiting. Afterwards I lay in a state of insensibility until the morning, when a violent inflammation had taken place in my body. I was bled three times, which gave me temporary ease. In this way I went on for seven days, bled regularly two or three times a day. I felt better, but continued in a stupor for four days, when the inflammation recommenced with far more violence than ever. The lancet was the only thing to save me, so I was bled again very largely. My liver now was much swollen, and consequently my body was a good deal enlarged. I had always an intolerable burning pain in the liver. I never slept—often in dread of suffocation. Bleeding was the only remedy for it. In this way I went on for seven days more, when one evening, the pain being very violent, I sent for my surgeon to bleed me. He took two large basins from my arm. The pain abated much. I requested a little more might be taken, but I suddenly fainted. It was about half an hour before I could be brought to life. This alarmed my friend so much that he did not like to try bleeding again. He went and brought an eminent physician to see me, who recommended leeches. I had thirty immediately provided and applied to my sides. The next day, I had twenty-five more on the same spot, and the day after, twenty-five more. The last application of them was horrible. My side was inflamed and nearly raw from the biting of the others. I got fresh leeches every time; they bit directly. I was in the greatest state of debility when the last were put on the raw part; all taking hold at once made me entirely mad with anguish. I kicked, roared, and swore, and tried to drag them off, but my hands were held. Such torture I never experienced. As soon as they came off I ordered my servant to kill them, as well as about fifty more I had in the house. My dear friend who had attended me so kindly through this doleful scene came to see me. It was then one o'clock in the morning. "I am sorry they have tormented you with leeches, as they are of no use. Are you resigned? You cannot live,"—this, poor fellow, with tears trickling down his cheeks; on seeing which my poor little nurse, knowing so well the meaning, sobbed aloud. I answered, "Death has no pangs for me," but, alas! at that moment my poor family appeared before my eyes. I thought you would have no provision. My heart seemed fit to break. I told Robson[29] the only uneasiness I felt was for my family. He endeavoured to console me. He went away, not expecting to see me again. In the morning he found me in a state of stupor, in which state I continued for three days, to the astonishment of all. I suddenly found my body very wet, and called my nurse, who was astonished to find me speak. The bed-clothes being turned down, there I was deluged in matter. The plaster was taken off the wound, when the matter flowed forth as from a fountain. I was immediately rational and my body began to decrease. I knew in a moment my life was saved. My surgeon came and jumped for joy at my good fortune. The whole family in my house came too. The kindness and delight which Mr. Overman showed was beyond everything. Every night before he went to bed he came to me; sometimes I was insensible. He regularly went into his study and prayed for me every night. He is a very good man, a Protestant, and speaks English well. My dear little nurse has never been ten minutes from me since I came to the house. When I was in that dangerous state I often fainted in the night. She had in a moment a strong spirit at my nose to revive me. For ten nights together she never went to bed, but laid her head on my pillow. I now must finish with observing that I am with the best people in the world. The ball passed through my liver.... I am dreadfully emaciated, but I am sound at heart. I eat roast meat daily. In consequence of this discharge, I am obliged to eat very largely. I daresay in three weeks I shall be able to get out of bed. My spine is cut through at the hips. My backbone hurts me sadly. I was afraid of my shoulders, but I feed so well and drink such good wine that I must put flesh on my bones. I bless Almighty God for His mercy to me, for restoring me as it were to life in so wonderful a manner. I wish the Frenchman had not hit me quite so hard. I am afraid it will take many years off my life and make an old man of me. I have got the ball, and shall make Ann a present of it. Joe passed by the place, but did not come. I suppose he has not heard I was worse. However, it is as well, as he would be hurt to see me in this emaciated state after writing and telling him I was out of danger. Ann must be much in want of money to pay for schooling. Now the only thing I can advise you to do is to draw the £20 out of Mr. Boyse's hands and pay it. I shall not be fit to travel for two months to come, and I can get no money until I arrive at my regiment. After I have been a little time at the regiment I shall go to London and get a year's pay. I shall send you £100, and the £17 will pay my expenses back to France. It is likely that we may stay in France a long time, which will be very lucky, as I shall get wine good and cheap—in fact, everything else in proportion. One year from the day I was wounded being passed, I mean again to go to London and apply for the pension, which, if I am lucky enough to procure, you will never again be in want of money.

My dear Ann I hope continues diligently her pursuit after knowledge; Betsy also. Charles I expect delights in his studies. If he means me to be his friend, it is the only way to acquire my friendship.

My uncle will, I am sure, be very happy to hear that I am in the land of the living. My best regards to him. You will think me a strange fellow to write so much, but I write perfectly at my ease. I have plenty of books, and amuse myself all day very agreeably, and knowing the danger of offering to stir, I am quite happy. Adieu. God preserve you all in His holy keeping,

G. Simmons.

The next letter I hope will be from Paris. Write soon.

Letter No. XXVII

Brussels, 12th September 1815.

My dear Parents—I am now, thank God, able to enjoy myself once more. My health is nearly as good as ever. I increase in strength daily. The felicity I feel at being capable to walk about is hardly to be described. My legs swelled very much when I first arose out of bed. For some days I was often obliged to be carried back and rubbed with hot flannel for hours together. I was afraid of becoming dropsical, but these bad symptoms have entirely left me. On Sunday, being the birthday of my worthy landlord, we were very gay. After a splendid dinner I was gallant enough to walk with the ladies into the country nearly a mile, where we had cakes, etc., at a house, and then returned back. Two young ladies supported me, which amused the people that passed. I have invitations to dine out almost every day, but as I must live very steadily, I often refuse. The more I know of the good family I live with the better I like them. If I happen to mention my thoughts of returning to England, they are all melancholy, and request me not to think of it. Their fine children, as soon as they get up, come into my bedroom to kiss me and wish me good morning. A little girl often puts me in mind of my dear Betsy; she always calls me her uncle.

I shall be able to return to England in a month if I continue going on well. The violent spasms that often seized me have entirely disappeared; sometimes they came on when eating or drinking, and obstructed my throat in such a manner that I could not swallow. At first when I got into the garden I was so delighted with the scenery that I fancied I could walk in the presence of several ladies who came to pay an afternoon visit. I attempted it, and fell to the ground in fits. I certainly was out of my senses at the time. I alarmed the good folks, so that they all went home. I continued in convulsions all the night. This circumstance made me keep my bed a fortnight longer. I forgot to mention a circumstance which deserved my notice. Sergeant Fairfoot was wounded through the arm, and also through the hand, on the 16th. When I was carried off the field of battle and deposited in a stable upon straw, he came near me and expressed much concern. He supported me while the surgeon cut into my breast and dislodged the ball, which, being flat and terribly jagged, required some time. Every five minutes the cannon-shot from the enemy and shells were passing through this house, which made it a very dangerous place. Fairfoot was very anxious to get me away. He went in search of a horse, and returned with a Frenchman's, and tried to put me on it, but I fainted, and was carried back to my straw. When I came to myself, I heard the surgeons say, "What is the use of torturing him? he cannot live the night; he is better where he is than to die on horseback." This admonition made Fairfoot desist, but he got me water and behaved very kind. The enemy made a very desperate attack, and it was thought this place would in a few minutes be between the fire of the parties; under such circumstances we should be either burnt or shot. Everybody that could crawl left the place. I asked the hospital sergeant, who was the last man there, if we were to be left? He durst not answer me. A gallant young friend of mine, who was badly wounded and dying, crawled near me and said, "George, do not swear at the fellow; we shall soon be happy; we have behaved like Englishmen." At this moment Fairfoot entered, and a Rifle Man who gallantly exposed himself to carry me off the field. Fairfoot said, "We must not, nor shall not be murdered, but there is no time to spare." A Life Guardsman and he put me on the horse. I was held on by the legs. Fairfoot also got my friend away, but he died the same night, being a delicate young man.[30] I stated this affair to my Colonel, and all the officers know how much Sergeant Fairfoot merits my praise.[31] If I can do him a service he may always command me; his character as a brave soldier stands with the first in the regiment. You may tell this to his father. I hear from Joe frequently. He is well. Never mention me in conversation anywhere, as I do not want to be known at Hull. My side continues very numb still, but time will, I hope, render it better. I am anxious to come to England for the purpose of procuring the year's pay, which I shall send you—at least one hundred pounds. One year after, I shall present myself at the Medical Board for the pension, and if I get it, which there is every likelihood of, why then, I shall laugh at my wounds; for to protect and support those that are dear to me, my sufferings will be highly recompensed. I enclose a five-pound note, which I hope will reach you safely. When I landed I bought a horse, which cost me nineteen pounds; now that I want to sell it, I cannot get £10 (ten pounds) for it. I have sent the animal to my brother. He has one already of mine. If there is any likelihood of staying long in this country, I shall return. My horses, in that case, will be ready for me, and otherwise I have ordered them to sell them. I wish our brave fellows were away from Paris. It is a horrible sink of iniquity, and I am afraid will corrupt the morals of the thoughtless.

I have given advice to Joe, but I am convinced that he will not run into extremes or extravagance. I had some very good accounts of him from the depÔt before he came out. I have shown myself to several surgeons. A celebrated one from Edinburgh saw me and asked me all the particulars. My case will be published among many others. The next letter will be most likely from London. You need not answer this.—Yours,

Geo. Simmons, Lieut.

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