Читать книгу The Story of a Peninsular Veteran. Sergeant in the Forty-Third Light Infantry, during the Peninsular War онлайн

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Events and shifting scenes had crowded one after another with such rapidity since I left home, that reflection was drowned; but the first night in which I lay down in the barracks, memory began to be busy. I could not help thinking of the peaceful fireside I had left; and in despite of my most vigorous effort to shake off the intrusion, conscience would not be denied, and the image of my mother, deserted at her utmost need, and pinched perhaps by want, was a source of great uneasiness. But having passed the Rubicon, retreat I knew was out of the question. Independently of the conflict within, my situation in the barrack was not adapted to afford much present consolation. The sleeping-room of which I was an inmate was an oblong building of unusually large dimensions, and was occupied by three companies of a hundred men each. They were chiefly volunteers, and of course young soldiers. Many were Irish, many more were English, several Welshmen were intermingled, and a few Scotchmen came in to complete the whole. Most of these, and that was the only point of general resemblance, had indulged in excessive drinking. Some were uproariously merry; on others the effect was directly the reverse, and nothing less than a fight, it mattered not with whom, would satisfy. Meantime, as they were unable to abuse each other in language mutually intelligible, exclamations profanely jocular or absurdly rancorous rang through the building: altogether, the coalition of discordant verbiage was such as to beggar all description, and can be likened to nothing of which I ever heard or read, except the confusion on the plains of Babel. Never will the occurrence of that night be effaced from my mind. Surely, thought I, hell from beneath is moved to engulf us all. These disorderly proceedings, thank God! were of short continuance. In a few weeks we marched to more convenient quarters, a few miles distant. The salutary restraints of discreetly-managed discipline spake chaos into order, and my situation became comparatively comfortable.