It was clear even to the bravest of us that the time
had come to retreat. I was myself forced to admit it.
But retreat was not so easy. Not only were the troops weak and
exhausted from want of supplies, but the enemy had been much
encouraged by our long inaction. Of Wellington we had no great
fear. We had found him to be brave and cautious, but with little
enterprise. Besides, in that barren country his pursuit could
not be rapid.
But on our flanks and in our rear there had gathered great
numbers of Portuguese militia, of armed peasants, and of
guerillas. These people had kept a safe distance all the winter,
but now that our horses were foundered they were as thick as
flies all round our outposts, and no man's life was worth a sou
when once he fell into their hands. I could name a dozen
officers of my own acquaintance who were cut off during that
time, and the luckiest was he who received a ball from behind a
rock through his head or his heart. There were some whose deaths
were so terrible that no report of them was ever allowed to reach
their relatives.
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