10. A Prisoner of Albuera (3)
The Fate of the British Captives
When I arrived at the French hospital, one of their surgeons, seeing me so badly wounded, left his own people and examined my head. He cut off much of my hair, and, having put some lint on my two wounds, tied up my head so tightly, to keep the skull together, that I could not open my mouth for three days, except to take a little to drink. He told me that at the expiration of that time I might venture to loosen the bandage a little. This surgeon spoke English tolerably well: having been a prisoner in our country, and well treated, he had a respect for us. Of my final recovery he gave me little hope, as my skull had received fractures of whose consequences he was fearful. The French soldiers abused him for attending to me before them: he left, promising to see me again, but I never met with him after.
Weak as I was, I reconnoitred the French guard over the prisoners in the evening: it had been reinforced, and their sentries being posted three deep, I found it impossible to get past them, although on the other side of the river I could see my friends resting on their arms after their victory. The night was extremely cold and damp: we had but few clothes left, and no blankets. We made a fire by gathering boughs from the trees near us, but could get no sleep from the pain of our wounds, the loss of blood, and our distressing circumstances.
May 17th. On the morning, and during the day following the battle, part of the dispirited French army was left under the command of General Gazan, who was wounded himself, to make preparations for the evacuation of their hospitals to the rear. The French are generally well supplied with conveyances for this purpose; on this occasion they had not less than eighty or a hundred large covered wagons for the use of the worst cases, exclusive of many horses, mules, and asses. These wagons had been brought up laden with provisions to the field of battle, and after being emptied were applied to any other purpose necessary. But on this occasion, from the enormous number of wounded that they had to remove, they found it necessary to force the British soldiers, who had fallen into their hands as prisoners, to carry some of their generals and other officers of note on litters. Being disgusted with his burden, through fatigue and the heat of the sun, one of the prisoners exclaimed to his comrades: “D—n this rascal, let us throw him down and break his neck.” To the surprise of the soldiers, the wounded general lifted his head and replied in English: “No, I hope not.” Of the 500 rank and file taken prisoners more than half succeeded in escaping at Usagre and other places on the line of the French retreat. Those of the prisoners who did not escape were handsomely paid for their trouble.
May 18th. About two o’clock in the morning the main convoy of wounded, amounting to near 4,000 in all, was put in motion. Dreadful were the cries of these poor unfortunate wretches! Had my heart been made of adamant I must have felt for the pitiable condition to which the ravages of war had brought them. It was completely daylight before the rear of the convoy left the ground. Two or three hundred had died on the 17th, and between 600 and 700 more expired on the road to Seville. It was stated to me by a French surgeon that they left on the field some, both of their own and of the British wounded, who could not bear transport. The British found 300 or 400 men, mostly amputation cases, left in the chapel behind the wood of Albuera.
A strong guard, both of cavalry and infantry, some 3,500 men, was told off to guard the British prisoners, who were placed in the centre of the marching column. We proceeded on the 18th along the road leading from Albuera to Solana—four long leagues. On our arrival at the latter place the principal part of the wounded were taken into the town: the escort did not enter it, but was drawn up on some high ground, to prevent a surprise by guerrillas, of whom they were extremely afraid. The cries of the wounded continued dreadful. All the British prisoners slept in an open field, with a strong guard around them. The only sustenance that we had were a few green beans (garbanzos), which the French gathered and gave to us. Indeed, this was the only food they could procure for themselves.
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