“Anyway, our lives were pleasant enough once we grew used to the heat. And my duties were much the same as those I’d had in England. Exercise the horses, drill the men. We went sightseeing. We went to routs. We invented card games. It was not unpleasant at all, though I suppose we were all chafing a little. Soldiers must at least appear as if they wish to fight, so when November came and we received orders to make ourselves ready to go into Spain I remember three or four of our people giving the hunting cry. There was a lot of talk about tactics, fighting spirit, the superiority of our horses, our swords, our guns. It was also when we had our first taste of the confusion that in the end overwhelmed everything. The rains were due, no reliable maps were to be had and no two Portuguese could agree on the best route to the border. To spread the risks the army was divided. I went on the road through a place called Elvas. We had some of the German legion, some dragoons, six batteries of guns. Highlanders too, the 71st, and it was on the road to Elvas I first heard Gaelic spoken, spoken and sung. The intention, as I understood it, was to defend Madrid, but by the time we had any degree of readiness Madrid had fallen, gone without a fight, the government fleeing south as fast as their mule cars would carry them. As for where the various French armies were, what their numbers might be, their dispositions, I had the impression that no one, from General Moore down, really had the least idea, and as the French were equally ignorant about ourselves we were all of us reduced to moving about the country in the hope of hearing something. Thousands of men in bright coats on beautiful horses looking for each other in the rain! And when the rain stopped the snows began. Spain in winter is a cold country, Emily. A cold country and a hard one.