Swinging the lamp - again!

More tales from the quill pen of Capt. Sir John Kincaid, late of the 95th Rifles.

March 12th, 1811:  Be it known then that I was one of a crowd of skirmishers who were enabling the French ones to carry the news of their own defeat through a thick wood, at an infantry canter, when I found myself all at once within a few yards of one of their regiments in line, which opened such a fire, that had I not, rifleman like, taken instant advantage of the cover of a good fir tree, my name would have unquestionably been transmitted to posterity by that night's gazette.  And, however opposed it may be to the usual system of drill, I will maintain, from that day's experience, that the cleverest method of teaching a recruit to stand to atttention, is to place him behind a tree and fire balls at him; as, had our late worthy disciplinarian, Sir David Dundas, himself, been looking on, I think even he must have admitted that he never saw any one stand so fiercely upright as I did behind mine, as the balls were rapping into it as fast as if a fellow had been hammering a nail on the opposite side, not to mention the numbers that were whistling past, within the eighth of an inch of every part of my body, both before and behind, particularly in the vicinity of my nose, for which the upper part of the tree could barely afford protection.

March 19th, 1811: We this day, captured the aide-de-camp of General Loison, together with his wife, who was dressed in a splendid hussar uniform.  He was Portuguese, and a traitor and looked very like a man who would be hanged.  She was a Spaniard, and very handsome, and looked very like a woman who would get married again.

May 15th, 1811:  A little before dusk, in the evening, our battalion was ordered forward to relieve the troops engaged in the village, part of which still remained in the possession of the enemy, and I saw, by the mixed nature of the dead, in every part of the streets, that it had been successively in the possession of both sides.  The firing ceased with the daylight, and I was sent, with a section of men, in charge of one of the streets for the night.  There was a wounded serjeant of highlanders lying on my post.  A ball had passed through the back part of his head, from which the brain was oozing, and his only sign of life was a convulsive hiccough every two or three seconds.  I sent for a medical friend to look at him, who told me that he could not survive.  I then got a mattress from the nearest house, placed the poor fellow on it, and made use of one corner as a pillow for myself, on which, after the fatigues of the day, and though called occasionally to visit my sentries, I slept most soundly.  The highlander died in the course of the night.

See also:

http://duffandnonsense.typepad.com/duff_nonsense/2011/08/swing-the-lamp.html#tp

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Tales-Rifle-Brigade-Adventures-Rifleman/dp/184415288X

 

Comments

[Andra]

Thank you.

[David Duff]

My pleasure.