Saturday and Sunday

Lazy Sunday. Visited Benson Antiques and bought a photo frame. Cut lawn and sat in the garden enjoying the sun. 25 years since the Falklands War (I was at Akrotiri at that time) and there is a poignant reminder on the television. I can't remember much of what went on as it is all so remote now. I wonder if there will be similar commemoration of the Iraq conflict in 25 years. Somehow I doubt it. Tony Blair has only a few more days in power. What wasted potential. I hope Gordon Brown fares better. Heaven save us from the Conservatives. At least Dallaglio is back in the Englan fold (hoorah!). We might just get to the quarters! What price beating the Welsh on 4 August?
Saturday was spent in Oxford. There can be few things as pleasant as sitting in one of the old coffee houses in Oxford watching the tourists and students. Lots of activity with students wearing their examination robes cavorting, covered in food and paint and stuff, I guess to celebrate the end of term or at least exams. Parents loading cars down by Lincoln College. I enjoyed watching the kids enjoying life. Good for them. It is too easy to criticise 'the young generation'. In these students I saw hope and enthusiasm.

Then back home for a walk by the Thames (Goring Lock).






16/17 June 1815. Napoleon needed to swing from his engagement with Blucher and attack Wellington from the east. There had been a mix up with Comte d'Erlon's corp marching uselessly between Quatre Bras and Ligny. D'Erlon was now back under command and Napoleon should have attacked Wellington to prevent them withdrawing toward Mont St Jean. The Emperor did not sieze the chance and Ney did not hold the allies allowing a retreat northwards. The Prussians retreated to the north west to Wavre pursued by Grouchy. Napoleon wanted Blucher harried so that he could not join with Wellington but, in fact, with Grouchy hesitating at Gembloux, Blucher was nearer to Wellington than the two french armies were to each other..

Mercer was involved in fighting a 13 km rearguard from Quatre Bras. The weather had been characterised by thunder and heavy rain.

'The first gun that was fired seemed to burst the clouds overhead, for its report was instantly followed by an awful clap of thunder, and lightning that almost blinded us, whilst the rain came down as if a waterspout had broken over us. The sublimity of the scene was inconceivable. Flash succeeded flash, and peels of thunder were long and tremendous; whilst, as if in mockery of the elements, the French guns still sent forth their feebler glare and now scarcely audible reports - their cavalry dashing on at a headlong pace, adding their shouts to the uproar.We galloped through the storm for our lives.'

The retreat came to an end at the when the rearguard reached the low ridge running east to west across the road to Brussels. This is where the final stand would be made.

'The enemy finding us obstinate in maintaining our position, soon slackened, and then ceased firing altogether.; and we were immediately ordered to do the same, and establish ourselves in bivouac for the night'
The soldiers of all three armies would start the fight next day in a state of sodden cold, caked with mud and starving hungry.

Mercer writes 'Thoroughly wet - cloak, blankets and all - comfort was out of the question, so we prepared to make the best of it. Our first care was, of course, the horses......thus they,at least had plenty to eat.....For ourselves, we had nothing! absolutely nothing! - and looked forward to rest alone to restore our exhausted strength. Rather a bore going supperless to bed after such a day, yet there was no help for it.....We set up a small tent into which...we crept, and rolling ourselves into our wet blankets, huddled close together, in hope....of keeping each other warm....There was no possibility of sleeping...water pouring through the canvas in streams...so up I got and to my infinite joy found that some of the men had managed to maked a couple of fires, round which they were huddled smoking their short pipes in something like comfort'

At this point Mercer and a fellow Captain borrow a few sticks off the fires and light their own under a hedge sheltered by an umbrella ('which, by the way, had afforded some merriment to our people on the march'). They 'seated ourselves under it, he on one side of the stick and I on the other, we lighted our cigars and became - comfortable. Dear weed, what comfort, what consolation dost thou not impart to the wretched! - with thee a hovel becomes a palace. What stock of patience is ther not enveloped in one of thy brown leaves!

A Hanoverian soldier passes by and they offer him warmth by the fire. In return he gives them 'a poor half starved chicken. 'I got a leg for my share, but it was not one mouthful and this was the only food I tasted since the night before.