The Great War of 1812, 1813 and 1814.

by Dirk Van Doodewaard (1789-1875)

Previously soldier in the great army,
presently store keeper in Opheusden.

A book originally published by
Het Landbouwkundig Gesticht
Montfoort, The Netherlands
1855

translated by C.A. Van Doodewaard (1942) in 2007

A Prisoner of War in Russia

With apprehension most young men in 1810 saw the fearful day of the lottery approaching. Most mothers of 18 year olds were very afraid their young son would have to serve in Napoleon’s army. This initial lottery forced the unknown upon these young lads. After some years, when some had returned home there was not this great panic the first lottery caused. And now that these wars are past, the lotteries only mean some years of military service, to be drilled, and to march in formation.

Back in 1810 you were plunged into a fierce war, and your chance of dying was very substantial. Myself, whether I was a bit superficial I don’t know, but the lottery did not bother me. I rather liked the idea of wearing a uniform, and fighting a war. Was I not chosen in the lottery, then I would just apply for conscription. I wanted to see the world, and Napoleon was offering me the chance. The lot made me, happily, a soldier. Now there was one danger I wanted to avoid: serving in the navy. I could not swim, and would certainly get seasick. If I would be joining the navy, I might as well stay in Ochten where I lived.

In Arnhem we received our medical examinations, and were positioned with Army or Navy. Happily I was stationed with the Army. In September we traveled over Den Bosch, Antwerp, Gent and Rijssel to St. Omer. We were very cheerful and even jolly. We had received liberal financial gifts from friend and family, and these were most helpful in maintaining good spirits.

In St. Omer we were dressed and drilled. Our instructors must have been amazed at our ignorance, since we did not now the difference between left and right. The main culprit here was that none of us spoke French, and all commands were issued in French.

Most excercises were held on the square, and in order to continue even by inclement weather, they also took place in the cellars. There seemed to be a haste in training, and word was circulating that something was up. Every day there were troops coming and going. It was rumoured that there were at least 1000 men at St. Omer. Most men were in camp Boulogne. I served in regiment 123 line infantry. In the morning I served as footsoldier, in the afternoon as canon attendant. Almost every one had a close friend from some different nationality. My first buddy was a Frenchman. His first question I did not understand, and he attempted to make me understand by rubbing his two thumbnails together. I thought he was trying to insult me.

Slowly I began to get used to the uniform. Our army meals in France were good. We received 7 ½ ounces of whole grain bread and 2 ½ ounces of meat in the soup. We seldom saw a somber face. When I was a bit sentimental about the long time I needed to serve, I would make sure I kept a cheerful face. I think the others were doing the same. And nothing is as contagious as cheerfulness or sadness. The poor comrades who had the misfortune of being sad just withered away and ended up buried. The replacements (those who were paid to take the place of another who had been chosen by lottery) had the worst time, and did not receive any consideration or esteem, and many never received the promised payment for being a “replacement”.

We were intent on having a good time, you should have heard us carrying on in the armory at St. Omer, most would have been envious of us, exercises, doing watch duty, polishing, each taking his turn to assist in the kitchen. With all our activities we sang and joked and played as much as we could.

After a month at St. Omer we left for Douay, where we also stayed for a month.
(to be continued.)