Anonymous, Journal of a Soldier of the Seventy-First…
“ About one o’clock in the morning we got four ounces of bread served out to each man, which had been collected out of the haversacks of the Foot Guards. After the firing had ceased, we began to search through the town, and found plenty of flour, bacon, and sausages, on which we feasted heartily, and lay down in our blankets wearied to death. My shoulder was as black as a coal, from the recoil of my musket; for, this day, I had fired 107 round of ball-cartridge. Sore as I was, I slept as sound as a top, till I was awakened by the loud call of the bugle, an hour before day. ”
