“At last we did stumble across them, the enemy. A dispatch was intercepted and we learned of a body of their cavalry in a town five leagues or so from where the regiment was quartered. We set off at midnight, travelled through the dark, but as we came close we were challenged by one of their patrols and when we reached the town they were ready for us. Heavy dragoons, Chasseurs. It was first light, misty, not like today, but enough to make the ground uncertain. We wheeled into line. The charge was sounded. I was on the far left of the line and after galloping through a vineyard with my sword stretched out ahead and yelling like the best of them I found nothing in front of me but mist and snow. I gave the order left shoulders forward, the one you said I spoke in my dreams that night, but by the time we joined the others it was almost over. The first shock had been enough. The French were scattering. I fired my pistol at one, his back as he was riding away. I missed him, I probably missed him by yards. I don’t think I was sorry for it. They lost above twenty. We lost six. We took prisoners, including a pair of colonels, captured a good many horses, good horses too, none of them less than fourteen hands. It was our great moment. Everyone telling everyone what everyone had seen for themselves. This was what we had come for! This was war! You should have seen us swagger. Well, there was little enough time to enjoy it.

“On Christmas Eve the retreat began. Not back to Portugal as we had hoped but north, into Galicia. We crossed the River Esla on the 28th, reached Bembibre on the 31st, Villafranca on New Year’s Day. The French were never far behind us, Marshal Soult, possibly Bonaparte himself. There were always rumours about him, sightings. The general staff were in a panic and the men were pushed on at a rate they could hardly bear. On one occasion we marched thirty-six hours without pause. Even on horseback that was hard. On foot it must have been torture. We were not equipped for the mountains, not the mountains in winter. Soldiers roamed in gangs hunting for food. We began to view the Spanish as much our enemies as the French. Why did they not help us? Why did they not provide us with what we so desperately needed? The answer of course was that they could not, they had not the means, but that did not stop us from hating them.