Battle in the Pyrenees
Sergeant John Spencer Cooper, 7th Royal Fusiliers
1813
As the French in great force were now advancing rapidly upon us, we were kept marching and countermarching from ridge to valley, and from valley to ridge again.
In the afternoon, a detachment of the 20th regiment was sent up a mountain side to feel for the enemy. A dense cloud was hugging its summit and hiding the French. The detachment had hardly disappeared in the mist before they were attacked by overwhelming numbers. We heard a heavy roll of musketry, and in a few minutes saw our men retiring hastily before perhaps 2,000 of the enemy. We immediately moved up to their support, and skirmished in a wood till long after dark. When the firing had ceased, the sounds of suffering grated painfully on our ears. A few yards off, a wounded or dying Frenchman was crying out most piteously, "Ah! mon Dieu! Ah! mon Dieu!" ("O my God!"). Close to my feet lay two of our men. One was dead, the other dying. The brains of the latter were protruding above his eyes. I knew him, and thought he looked up at me; but there was no utterance or sound, sobs excepted.
The order to retire came along the chain of skirmishers in a whisper. While making this movement we came to an open space in a wood where a number of our badly wounded were lying, wrapped in their blankets. They heard the rustle of our feet, and one of them asked, "What regiment is that?" "The seventh." "Where are you going?" "We are retreating." "Will you leave us here?" We stole away, and left them to the mercy of the enemy and the mountain wolves, not being able to take them off. We got no bread this day, and our rum was purposely spilled to prevent drunkenness. This night march was horrible, for our path lay among rocks and bushes, and was so narrow that only one man could pass at a time; consequently our progress was exceedingly tedious, stopping, as we did, five or ten minutes every two or three yards. This was made much worse by the pitchy darkness. Many were swearing, grumbling, stumbling, and tumbling. No wonder, we were worn out with fatigue, and ravenous with hunger. However I kept up, though my gaiter straps and one of my shoe ties were broken. I called the roll of the company when we halted and was surprised to find every man present.
About noon next day we were favoured with some biscuit, and were preparing to cook, when the enemy debouched from a wood in front, and began to drive in our picquets. Of course the cooking was stopped, and we retired to a new position. The retreating and cannonading continued till sunset, and then we cooked.
Large fires were lighted along the whole front at midnight, and then we retreated in almost impassable roads, till late next morning. We then took up position within sight of Pampeluna. Having now reached the limits of our retreat, we saw the different divisions converging, and unmistakeable tokens of a crash.
To gain our position we had to climb a high ridge, whose summit was not above a yard across. Its sides were so steep and slippery that we could hardly keep our footing. Again our camp kettle was prevented from boiling by the command-"Fall in." My messmate and I carried the kettle down the slope and to the top of a still higher mountain, where a contest had been raging for some time between the French and two regiments of Spaniards, supported by our 40th. The enemy were driven back before we arrived at the top; but skirmishing was kept up below us till dark. While the firing continued, an elemental war was gathering above our heads. This soon burst upon us with terrible fury. The thunder and lightning were appalling, and the rain came down like a cataract. Though there was no shelter, the order was "No great coats or blankets to be loosed"; consequently we were miserably wet and cold, and passed a sad night among the grass. The storm quieted both the fighting parties, and prevented our cooking.
John Spencer Cooper. Rough Notes of Seven Campaigns in Portugal, Spain, France, and America During the Years 1809-10-11-12-13-14-15. (Carlisle: 1914), pp. 96-98.