The Fields of Death r-4, page 28
part #4 of Revolution Series
When the last of the officers had arrived, Napoleon nodded at the guardsmen on the door and they pulled the door closed behind them, standing guard to ensure that there would be no interruption or eavesdropping.
Napoleon rose to his feet and his officers fell silent. He waited a moment longer to end a greater sense of gravity to the occasion, and then began.
‘For some months now you will have been aware of the build-up of our forces in the east of Europe. It is well known that there are tensions between the empires of France and Russia and that both the Tsar and I have been engaged in spats of sabre-rattling. Well, the time has come to unsheathe the sword and thrust it into the heart of our enemy. Despite every effort that I have made to avoid war, the Tsar has been determined to force one upon me. I am sure you have all read the list of his demands, and I am certain that you share my sense of outrage that Alexander thinks he can humiliate me, you, and all of France. It is with reluctance that I am obliged to answer his demands with force, but nothing more can be gained from diplomacy, and the time has come to settle the question of which power commands Europe.’ Napoleon paused to let his senior officers take stock of his opening words, then continued, ‘You have all served me before, so you will know that I believe in seizing the initiative. Therefore we are obliged to invade Russia. As ever, our aim is to find, fix and destroy the enemy’s field armies and thereby compel Alexander to sue for peace. Then we will make him eat his demands,’ Napoleon added with relish. ‘By the time the invasion begins we shall be able to field over six hundred thousand men, half of whom will be French.’
The officers looked at each other in astonishment. They had known about the build-up of forces, but this was the first time that they had been given the number of soldiers involved. Three times the size of any army that Napoleon had ever commanded before.
Marshal Davout raised a hand.
Napoleon nodded at him. ‘Speak, Davout.’
‘Have we accurate intelligence on the size of the Tsar’s armies, sire?’
‘Our agents report that Russia has somewhere in the order of four hundred thousand men under arms. However, many are deployed in garrisons spread across his lands. Only two hundred thousand will be standing between us and Moscow. At present they are divided into two armies. The main army, a hundred and fifty thousand men, under the command of General Barclay de Tolly, is presently dispersed between Riga and the Niemen river. The second army, under General Bagration, is to the south of the Pripet marshes.’ Napoleon lifted the long cane that lay on the table and indicated the vast sprawl of wetlands, small lakes and swampy forests that stretched across the middle of the western expanse of Russia. ‘Our primary target is the northern army. We will need to force them to fight before Bagration can march his men to join them. Once the northern army is crushed, we will deal with Bagration. When that is done, the Tsar will have no choice but to admit defeat.’
Prince Jйrфme spoke up. ‘Surely if we have six hundred thousand to their two hundred thousand, then we could face their combined army and still win easily. Why not encourage them to link up? It would surely shorten the campaign and make our task easier, sire.’
Napoleon looked at his younger brother and forced himself to respond patiently.‘Look at the map again. It is seven hundred miles from Warsaw to Moscow. The reason why I need so vast an army is because we will need to leave tens of thousands of men in our wake just to protect our lines of communication back to Warsaw. We can also count on losing more men along the route, due to injury and sickness. By the time we force the Russians to fight the chances are that we will only have a small advantage in numbers. That is why we must do all that we can to defeat them in detail. Is that clear, Jйrфme?’
‘Perfectly, sire.’ Jйrфme smiled. ‘Though I am certain that we can defeat those Russian peasants, even if they outnumber us.’
‘Oho!’ Marshal Ney snorted, sitting opposite Jйrфme. ‘And do tell us why that is.’
‘Certainly. I have heard that the Russian soldiers are little more than dumb brutes, conscripted from their farms. Their officers are drunkards and imbeciles. How can such a rabble stand before the might of France?’
‘You were not at Eylau, were you, boy?’
‘As you well know.’
‘Then you have never faced the Russian soldiers. I have, like many others in this room who were also at Eylau. Yes, some of them were roaring drunk, but drunk or not, they feared nothing and fought like bears and died like men I would have been proud to command.’ Ney leaned back and regarded Jйrфme with a hard smile. ‘So before you come over all cocksure, it would be as well to know of what you speak.’
Jйrфme flushed angrily and leaned forward to reply, but Napoleon cut him short. ‘That’s enough!’ He glared at both men for a moment, then took a deep breath and continued the briefing. ‘My intention is to destroy each army in turn. We will make every effort to keep Barclay de Tolly and Bagration apart. That means that we will need to manoeuvre as swiftly as possible. However, due to the sparse population of the steppes, it is doubtful that we can resort to our usual practice of living off the land. That is why I have ordered the build-up of rations at our forward supply depots, and gathered the wagons necessary to carry the rations with us from there. Once we are over the Niemen, we can feed our army for twenty-four days on the march. With such resources we shall devour all distances. Within that time I aim to have defeated both armies.’ Napoleon rested the stick against his shoulder. ‘Any questions? Davout, you look as if you have something else to say.’
The marshal nodded. ‘Sire, what if the enemy decide to trade space for time? Look at the map. They could fall back for months before they risked exposing Moscow, or even St Petersburg. Our rations would have expired long before then, and if there isn’t much to be had by foraging, then the army might well starve before it ever reached the battlefield. And there’s something else that concerns me. We both know the appalling conditions of the roads in Poland. It would seem reasonable to assume that the roads in Russia will be as bad, if not worse. If that is so then we can expect to lose a high percentage of our supply vehicles due to broken wheels and axles. I know they can be repaired, but the key point is they will be delayed. I fear that our supply convoys will start to fall behind our soldiers in a matter of days. Once that happens, then our ranks will start to thin out, slowly at first, and then more and more swiftly the further we advance.’
When Davout finished, the other officers remained silent. No one sought to contradict him and Napoleon felt his anger rise at the lack of confidence Davout had inspired amongst his peers.
‘Thank you, Davout. Your concerns are duly noted. However, I can assure you that no army has been better prepared for such a campaign.’
‘No army has ever attempted such a campaign, sire.’
‘Then the fame and glory we shall win will be all the greater, Davout. Think on that.’ Napoleon looked round at his officers to gather their attention for his concluding remarks.
‘As I said, our aim is to destroy the Tsar’s armies. If they refuse to fight then we will occupy Moscow and St Petersburg. Either way, the Russians’ will to continue the fight will collapse and we will have our victory. Marshal Davout is right. Nothing like this has ever been attempted before. Once it is over, the whole world will know that there is no limit to what the armies of France can achieve. We will finally be able to enforce the Continental Blockade to the utmost. I predict that within a year, England will at last be starved into submission. When that happens, gentlemen, then this war of wars will be at an end, and France, our France, will hold dominion over the whole world. In years to come, you, and all of our soldiers, will be able to tell your grandchildren about the day you entered Moscow at the side of your Emperor. Think on that as you ride to join your commands.’
He sat down, and an instant later Ney was on his feet, thrusting his fist into the air as he called out,‘Long live Napoleon! Long live France!’
Jйrфme rose and repeated the cheer, along with the others. Even Davout eventually rose to his feet and joined the cheering, but Napoleon saw the concern and doubt still lingering in his expression. Davout was wrong, he told himself. With so many men at his command, so many fine officers, the best cavalry in Europe and enough artillery to equip a fleet, how could there be any other outcome than a triumphant victory that would eclipse those of every other general throughout history? Napoleon eased himself back in his chair and smiled.
Chapter 25
Arthur
Badajoz, 6 April 1812
‘This time we’ll have the place,’ Arthur concluded as he finished surveying the three breaches that had been opened in the wall between two of the most powerful bastions of Badajoz. The new siege guns had proved their worth and in the space of two weeks the heavy shot of the twenty-four-pounder cannon had battered down the defences of the outlying fort of Picuriсa before being turned on the formidable walls of the town itself. ‘Those breaches will be practicable before nightfall.’
Somerset took a last long look through his telescope before he lowered it and nodded. ‘Yes, sir. Shall I issue the orders for the attack to take place tonight?’
‘Indeed. Tonight.’ Arthur’s cheerfulness faded. This was the point of greatest risk and loss of life. All sieges built towards it - the assault - and even if the assault were successful the cost could be heavy. Still, the army was in high spirits, and had been so since the start of the year when Arthur had led them back into Spain to take the fortress of Ciudad Rodrigo. Despite the gruelling cold of January, the army had besieged the town efficiently, digging the approach trenches, constructing batteries, smashing down the walls and assaulting the fortress in the space of ten days. All at a cost of six hundred casualties, a fifth of whom had been killed, including General Craufurd. Arthur had felt his loss keenly. Although Craufurd had been a prickly character, and prone to occasional acts of rashness, he had been an inspired commander of the Light Division. There were too few officers like him in the army, Arthur reflected. Men who could make the difference in an assault on a fortress as powerful as Badajoz.
The capture of Ciudad Rodrigo had been rewarded by elevation to an earldom back in England, while the Spanish junta had conferred the title of Duque de Ciudad Rodrigo upon him. More important, the army’s success had prompted the government to promise more reinforcements, especially the cavalry that Arthur had been pressing for since he had taken command. The first of seven fresh mounted regiments had already joined the army and the others would soon arrive. With a strong force of cavalry Arthur would be able to operate against the French with far more flexibility. No longer would he be tied to fighting defensive battles on terrain that negated the enemy’s superiority in cavalry. Now his army could go on the offensive and risk battle in the open.
But that was work for the future, Arthur reflected. First he must take Badajoz. He raised his telescope to inspect the fortress once more. The side facing the open ground to the west and south was protected by a formidable wall, and other defences put in place by the garrison commander. General Philippon was a veteran, some years older than Arthur, grey hair tied back above a lined face with piercing brown eyes. Arthur had met him briefly at the opening of the siege, when he had approached the fortress town under a flag of truce to demand its surrender. Philippon had emerged from the main gate, by the river, to decline the demand and Arthur, according to protocol, had reminded the defender that he would be able to come to terms until such time as a practicable breach had been opened in the walls of Badajoz. After that the fortress would be assaulted and, according to the customs of war, the defenders would be at the mercy of the British soldiers.
‘We’ll use four divisions for the assault,’ Arthur announced to his officers at the midday briefing. He was standing before a detailed map of the town’s defences pinned to the wall of the tavern that served as the army’s headquarters, and now raised his cane and pointed to the south-eastern corner of the walls of Badajoz.‘Alten’s Light Division and Cole’s Fourth Division will assault the breaches at ten o’clock tonight. At the same time there will be two diversionary attacks.’ He pointed out the eastern sector of the town. ‘Picton’s Third Division will cross the Rivillas stream, climb the cliff to the east and attempt to escalade the castle. The walls there are sufficiently low to enable our ladders to reach the battlements. Meanwhile, on the other side of Badajoz, Leith’s Fifth Division will assault the main gate. Leith?’
‘Sir?’ General Leith leaned forward.
‘The enemy have mined the approaches to the gate. Your fellows will need to be careful. Let the enemy explode the mines before you close on the wall, understood?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Arthur looked round at his officers. ‘I fully expect that this will be a much harder nut to crack than Ciudad Rodrigo. We can expect a greater number of casualties, but it is important to bear in mind the strategic purpose of this operation. With Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz in our hands the initiative passes to our side for the remainder of the campaign in the Peninsula. As you will know, Bonaparte is almost certain to attack Russia later this year. It is my conviction that he is about to make a mistake that may well be the turning point of the long war we have been engaged in. His campaign in Russia will exhaust his armies, and if we are lucky he may be defeated on the battlefield into the bargain. Our intelligence has shown that the best French formations are in the process of withdrawing from Spain in order to swell the ranks of the Grand Army. Gentlemen, this is precisely the opportunity I have been waiting for and I intend to seize it as firmly as possible. With the frontier fortresses in our hands, we will take the war to the French on our terms from now on.’ He paused. ‘Let that prospect fill your hearts and stiffen your sinews for this night’s work.’
His senior officers clapped their hands on the table to applaud the sentiment and then Arthur raised a hand to quell the racket. ‘Any questions?’
There were none, and he dismissed them to return to their commands and prepare for the attack. For the rest of the afternoon, until dusk, the divisions assigned to the attack rested in their bivouacs. The siege batteries shifted their fire to fresh sections of the wall in the faint hope that the defenders would think that the British required more breaches before launching an assault. Arthur doubted that Philippon would fall for such a ruse, but it was worth trying.
From the terrace garden of the tavern Arthur scanned the lines of the Light Division with his telescope and saw that some of them were reading, a few - more literate - were writing letters or diaries, and most were sitting in loose circles around their camp fires cooking up the daily ration of meat and biscuit into a thick broth. A handful of men had produced fiddles or flutes and were entertaining their comrades with jaunty tunes. Arthur was pleased. The men seemed to be in good humour. Then his gaze caught a small group of men, a hundred or so, kneeling before a chaplain, heads bent in prayer. Those were the volunteers of the Forlorn Hope, the assault party. They would lead the attack in an almost suicidal attempt to rush the breach selected for the Division and hold it open until the follow-up troops arrived to break into the town.
As he watched, Arthur could not help wondering at the nature of men who would volunteer for such a task. To be sure, there were rewards for those who survived. Promotion for the officer, sergeant and corporals, and the privates who distinguished themselves. But with the odds so stacked against them, those men would have to be so desperate for promotion that they valued it above life itself. Then there was the darker possibility, Arthur realised. Some of those men might be motivated by a lust for blood, a sickness he had seen in a few soldiers during his career. They craved battle and found such elation in the experience that it became an addiction, until death or a crippling wound cured them. If there were any men like that in the assaulting units then God help the people and garrison of Badajoz when the walls fell, Arthur thought, shuddering.
When night had fallen across the Spanish countryside Arthur, General Alava and Somerset, together with some of the staff officers, made their way up on to the ramparts of the Picuriсa fort where they would have a good view of the attack on the three breaches. To the left of the fort the men of the Light Division were stealing forward along the shallow banks of the Rivillas. They had been ordered to advance in strict silence and Arthur could barely discern any sign of life in the shadows below the fort. To the right, the men of the Fourth Division had entered their approach trenches and begun to creep forward until they were halted a short distance behind the men of the assault parties.
At nine o’clock the siege batteries fired their final round, as ordered. Arthur had not wanted to risk the flare from their discharges illuminating any of the preparations for the assault. As the firing ceased there was a tense quiet that felt strange after the din of the bombardment, the silence broken only by the occasional challenges of sentries and the croak of frogs along the banks of the stream.
Arthur turned to General Alava and muttered. ‘This time you shall see us take the town.’
‘I have every confidence, my lord.’
As they waited for the attack to begin the officers around Arthur grew increasingly tense, and while some fidgeted nervously others talked in low tones until Arthur turned round to glare at them in the dim glow of the lanterns hung inside the fort. They fell silent and he turned his gaze back towards Badajoz. Torches burned along the walls and here and there he could make out the dim figures of sentries patrolling the battlements. Every so often a sentry, suspicious of some sound or movement in front of the wall, would lob a torch in a fiery arc into the dead ground and perhaps startle a dog or some other small animal.
