Reminiscences of Captain Gronow | Page 5

future time to publish an additional one, as my memory still serves me
with sufficient materials for another volume of a similar kind.
R. H. Gronow.

MY ENTRANCE INTO THE ARMY
After leaving Eton, I received an Ensign's commission in the First
Guards during the month of December, 1812. Though many years have
elapsed, I still remember my boyish delight at being named to so
distinguished a regiment, and at the prospect of soon taking a part in
the glorious deeds of our army in Spain. I joined in February 1813, and
cannot but recollect with astonishment how limited and imperfect was
the instruction which an officer received at that time: he absolutely
entered the army without any military education whatever. We were so
defective in our drill, even after we had passed out of the hands of the
sergeant, that the excellence of our non-commissioned officers alone
prevented us from meeting with the most fatal disasters in the face of
the enemy. Physical force and our bull-dog energy carried many a
hard-fought field. Luckily, nous avons change tout cela, and our
officers may now vie with those of any other army in an age when the
great improvements in musketry, in artillery practice, and in the greater
rapidity of manoeuvring, have entirely changed the art of war, and
rendered the individual education of those in every grade of command
an absolute necessity.
After passing through the hands of the drill sergeant with my friends
Dashwood, Batty, Browne, Lascelles, Hume, and Masters, and
mounting guard at St. James's for a few months, we were hurried off,
one fine morning, in charge of a splendid detachment of five hundred
men to join Lord Wellington in Spain. Macadam had just begun to do

for England what Marshal Wade did in Scotland seventy years before;
and we were able to march twenty miles a day with ease until we
reached Portsmouth. There we found transports ready to convey a large
reinforcement, of which we formed part, to Lord Wellington, who was
now making his arrangements, after taking St. Sebastian, for a yet more
important event in the history of the Peninsular War - the invasion of
France.
DEPARTURE FOR AND ARRIVAL IN SPAIN
We sailed under convoy of the Madagascar frigate, commanded by
Captain Curtis; and, after a favourable voyage, we arrived at Passages.
Our stay there was short, for we were ordered to join the army without
loss of time. In three hours we got fairly into camp, where we were
received with loud cheers by our brothers in arms.
The whole British army was here under canvas; our allies, the
Spaniards and Portuguese, being in the rear. About the middle of
October, to our great delight, the army received orders to cross the
Bidassoa. At three o'clock on the morning of the 15th our regiment
advanced through a difficult country, and, after a harassing march,
reached the top of a hill as the gray light of morning began to dawn.
We marched in profound silence, but with a pleasurable feeling of
excitement amongst all ranks at the thought of meeting the enemy, and
perhaps with not an equally agreeable idea that we might be in the next
world before the day was over.
As we ascended the rugged side of the hill, I saw, for the first time, the
immortal Wellington. He was accompanied by the Spanish General,
Alava, Lord Fitzroy Somerset, and Major, afterwards Colonel
Freemantle. He was very stern and grave-looking; he was in deep
meditation, so long as I kept him in view, and spoke to no one. His
features were bold, and I saw much decision of character in his
expression. He rode a knowing-looking, thorough-bred horse, and wore
a gray overcoat, Hessian boots, and a large cocked hat. We commenced
the passage of the Bidassoa about five in the morning, and in a short
time infantry, cavalry, and artillery found themselves upon French
ground. The stream at the point we forded was nearly four feet deep,
and had Soult been aware of what we were about, we should have
found the passage of the river a very arduous undertaking.
Three miles above, we discovered the French army, and ere long found

ourselves under fire. The sensation of being made a target to a large
body of men is at first not particularly pleasant, but "in a trice, the ear
becomes more Irish and less nice." The first man I ever saw killed was
a Spanish soldier, who was cut in two by a cannon ball. The French
army, not long after we began to return their fire, was in full retreat;
and after a little sharp, but desultory fighting, in which our Division
met with some loss, we took possession of the camp and strong
position of