Journal of the Waterloo campaign, vol. 1 (of 2)

CHAPTER XII.

At Quatre Bras--Our Bivouac--Morning after the Battle--Our Position--The Battle-Field--Position of the French-- Skirmishing--An Alarm--The Retreat--Aspect of the Field--A Memento of Battle--Alone on the Field--Inactivity of the Enemy--Their Advance--Orders and Counter-Orders--Napoleon--A Storm--Our Danger--Our Narrow Escape--Our Retreat--Arrival at Genappe--The Enemy again--In Action with them--The Rocket Brigade--An Eccentric Missile--Panic among the Brunswickers-- Take up Position--Rejoin the Army--Bivouac for the Night-- Discomforts--Comfortless Night--Speculations as to the Morrow--A Godsend, 253

CHAPTER XII.

The firing began to grow slacker, and even intermitting, as we entered on the field of Quatre Bras--our horses stumbling from time to time over corpses of the slain, which they were too tired to step over. The shot and shells which flew over our line of march from time to time (some of the latter bursting beyond us) were sufficient to enable us to say we had been _in_ the battle of Quatre Bras, for such was the name of the place where we now arrived, just too late to be useful. In all directions the busy hum of human voices was heard; the wood along the skirts of which we marched re-echoed clearly and loudly the tones of the bugle, which ever and anon were overpowered by the sullen roar of cannon, or the sharper rattle of musketry; dark crowds of men moved in the increasing obscurity of evening, and the whole scene seemed alive with them. What a moment of excitement and anxiety as we proceeded amongst all this tumult, and amidst the dead and dying, ignorant as yet how the affair had terminated! Arrived at a mass of buildings, where four roads met (_les quatre bras_), Major M‘Donald again came up with orders for us to bivouac on an adjoining field, where, accordingly, we established ourselves amongst the remains of a wheat crop.

CHAPTER XII.

This was the farm of Quatre Bras.

CHAPTER XIV.

On regaining my own bivouac I found the ammunition arrived, and, what was still more satisfactory, Mr Coates with his whole train of Flemish waggons--our baggage and provisions. He had got intelligence in time of the battle of Quatre Bras and its results, and therefore altered his route to meet us on our retreat. On approaching the Charleroi road he had been swept away by the torrent of fugitives, and actually carried, _malgré lui_, beyond Brussels, some way on the road to Antwerp, before he could succeed in disentangling his train from the rabble rout, which he described as exceeding all imagination. As he brought the wherewithal, &c., of course his joining was hailed with joy by every one.

WATERLOO CAMPAIGN

WATERLOO CAMPAIGN

CHAPTER XIV.

WATERLOO CAMPAIGN.

CHAPTER IX.

The 19th of May 1815 was with us a memorable day; our friend Sir Augustus Frazer gave a grand, and a very good, dinner to all the horse-artillery officers, English and German, on the occasion of his being appointed lieutenant-colonel of that arm. The dinner was at the Hôtel de la Paix, Place Royale; excellent claret, sauterne, and champagne flowed in abundance, and the utmost hilarity prevailed. Many of us then met for the first time, many after a separation of years, and many for the last time. My friend Bolton sat next to me. I had not seen him since we were cadets together, but a few weeks afterwards he was gathered to his fathers on the field of Waterloo. Frazer had promised me a bed at his friend’s (Lieutenant-Colonel Maxwell, 21st) lodgings; accordingly, slipping away from the party, I found my way thither somehow or other, and his servant showing me my room I was soon fast asleep. From this I was aroused some time after by persons coming into the room, and, to my infinite horror, found that I had occupied the bed intended for Bob Cairns. A long dialogue of regrets, &c. &c., ensued, but I continued obstinately to sleep, as indignant at having been deceived as they were at my usurpation; so in the morning I arose early, and left the house and explanation to Sir Augustus. A few days afterwards poor Bob also was gathered to his fathers. With an aching head I repaired to the beautiful promenade on the ramparts, and made the circuit of the city, lingering about in the fresh morning air until I thought people would be stirring, and then adjourned to my friend Bell’s, where, being renovated by an excellent breakfast, I mounted my horse and returned to Strytem--to see Brussels no more.