Summary

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.
Source: Gutenberg

Anonymous Journal of a Soldier of the Seventy-First…

Scarce was our rear-guard within the town, ere the alarm was sounded. We rushed to our posts, pushing the inhabitants out of our way. Women and children crowded the streets, wringing their hands, and calling upon their saints for protection. The opposite plain was covered with fugitives. The French, as usual, liked not the spirit with which we formed, and the ardour with which our cavalry issued from the gates. They were content to look upon us from the neighbouring heights.
Source: Gutenberg

Anonymous Journal of a Soldier of the Seventy-First…

The great fault of our soldiers, at this time, was an inordinate desire for spirits of any kind. They sacrificed their life and safety for drink, in many ways; for they lay down intoxicated upon the snow, and slept the sleep of death; or, staggering behind, were overtaken and cut down by the merciless French soldiers: the most favourable event was to be taken prisoners. So great was their propensity to drown their misery in liquor, that we were often exposed to cold and rain for a whole night, in order that we might be kept from the wine stores of a neighbouring town.
Source: Gutenberg

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