Flashman in the Peninsula by Robert Brightwell

Author:Robert Brightwell [Brightwell, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adventure, Historical, Action
Amazon: B00IKFN9UK
Published: 2014-02-20T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

‘Did he kiss you as well?’ I asked Wellesley as he returned from Cuesta’s camp later that afternoon.

‘Mercifully no he didn’t,’ Wellesley grinned wryly. ‘He had recovered his normal demeanour by the time I saw him.’

‘But he was still grateful for the victory, surely?’

‘Oh he was grateful; his men were full of your death or glory charge for their guns, some of the few we captured. I suspect that by the time Cuesta’s despatches reach Seville it will be his victory rather than mine. That is why I sent for you, Thomas. I would be obliged if you would ride to Seville and take my account of the battle to the Central Junta. Be a first-hand witness as to what actually happened. I am content for the Spanish to take some credit, but if our part is not recognised, the Spanish may think we do not merit further supplies.’

‘Certainly,’ I agreed, and my heart soared. We were not out of the woods yet, Soult was closing on our rear and there was still a sizeable French force to our front. Now I would be spared the next engagements and instead was ordered to spend time in the salons of Seville countering misleading gossip.

An environment where a cake fork was the most dangerous implement of war sounded just the right place for me and I was certainly not going to be in any hurry to rush back. ‘Surely after his previous defeats,’ I continued, ‘no one in Seville will believe that he beat a French army twice the size of the Spanish one without our help?’

‘Oh, he is back to his old irrational self. He will probably claim it was an act of God. I spent most of my time with him trying to deter him from shooting people.’

‘Who did he want to shoot?’

‘There were his two hundred prisoners; I persuaded him to reduce the executions to forty. He agreed to that readily enough. But then one of our picket officers arrived in his camp to complain that Spanish soldiers were roaming the battlefield shooting French prisoners and wounded.’

I was genuinely shocked. There was, and as far as I am aware still is, an unwritten code for warfare. At that time it was probably at its zenith. The earlier British meeting with the French over the Portina turned out to be not unusual for that campaign. Captured officers would normally give their parole, a promise not to escape, and then be held in loose confinement until an exchange could be made. It was not unheard of for officers to be invited to dine at an enemy mess. I have seen a blind drunk artillery major carried back to our lines by four French gunners after he had overindulged on French hospitality. There were even understandings amongst common soldiers, for example when opposing forces were camped close together. Sentries standing guard between two armies would not be shot at. I have heard tales that they would even share duties so that they could take turns having a sleep, waking each other up when officers inspected.

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