23rd August 1812

Location: the Portuguese border

Today we loaded up our tents and equipment into the waggon gifted us by the local Portuguese. By order of Wellington; Major General Ellis-Jones is to take command of the 2nd Queens Royal Regiment of foot, the 44th east Essex regiment of foot, the 95th rifle regiment, my regiment the 42nd highlanders and three artillery pieces of the royal artillery and pursue Marshal Marmont's retreating army till they cross the Douro river.

Apparently we defeated him at a big battle near the city of Salamanca. Our company fought bravely that day beside the 95th I have heard. I did not see the battle, nor was I in Wellington's camp at the time. I have but recently arrived from England, having been engaged on business there.

Now I travel alone, save for my two companions, through the Peninsular to meet up with the rest of my company and join them in purging the lands of all French resistance still left on this side of the Douro. I am at the mercy of every deserter, Brigand and Guerrilla in Spain with no protection but my trusty cane.

When we do meet with Major Ellis-Jones' force, Wellington's orders are to keep our distance from Marmont's rearguard but continue to pursue them until they are across the Douro. We are instructed to instead tackle the counter Guerrillas of Joseph's Spain, the deserter mobs from both sides that ravage the peninsular and anyone else who does not accept his most catholic majesty Ferdinand VII as their sovereign.

I have heard that Wellington is even now marching through the gates of Madrid in triumph and that soon he will be turning his army north again to follow Marmont across the Douro and take the castle of Bargos.

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I look from the rear of the covered cart and I can see the rolling hills stretching across the horizon in a great ridge ahead of us. Between us and the ridge, but still far off, can be seen a small village, its church spire towering high above it. A great pillar of smoke rises up from the settlement and I can only imagine the carnage being wrecked by the Frogs or deserters upon the poor Spanish populace. The French have long punished Spanish villages who shelter Guerrillas in this way and I simply long to have a crack at them, to strike for justice, but even if I had a musket beside me, to confront these men would be nought but suicidal.

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The light has faded now, and I lie on the floor of my tent wrapped in my greatcoat. We crossed the ridge that lay ahead of us, earlier today. Now we are encamped in the tiniest of clearing at the centre of a dense forest. The horses are tethered outside but we have had to ditch our cart to get this far. We used the last of our wood to light a fire to cook over and had a meal of bacon and eggs. After the light disappeared I stripped to the waste and washed all over and now I am quite refreshed.

Tomorrow we will continue to the rendezvous but until then we must just keep out of harms way.