Addenbrooke then made the discovery that the merged squadron that was so convenient for training purposes was less than ideal for rounding up foragers.
A squadron of cavalry, when facing only another squadron, was understandably reluctant to give up its loot and was prepared to fight against equal numbers, with predictable results when those equal numbers were Hornets.
When coming face to face with double their force, their first thought was how to get out of such a scrape and the answer each time was to abandon the wagons and run for it.
Over the next week, each combined squadron met a squadron of foragers. Wagons and supplies were captured, but in each case the French fled and most of them got away to warn the garrison of Astorga that they were on a war footing once more. By the time they thought to reduce the numbers to a less formidable number, there were no more foraging parties.
Also, the rest of the cavalry and light infantry had caught up with them and Welbeloved, Blanco and the entire Spanish detachment were swarming through the Pass of Manzanal and spreading quickly south, by-passing the walls of Astorga and moving to catch any of the garrisons left in La Bañeza and Benavente.
Welbeloved quickly held a council of war. “I am certain, Gentlemen, that we, as well as you, have gained much experience and benefit from our co-operation in the last three weeks. Now that the enemy is before us, it is time for you to resume command of your own forces. The Avispónes shall continue to help you, but it is advisable that you reassess your position before letting your infantry move too far to the south.”
Quintana looked concerned. “Surely, Don Joshua, it is imperative that we capture La Bañeza and Benavente before the French can strengthen their garrisons and deny us the possibility of moving farther east?”
“Quite so, Don Luis, but consider the garrison of Astorga, which is a well-fortified town that is beyond our power to take at this time. We have not yet had the opportunity to count their numbers, but the villagers around here think it more than three thousand.
General Santocildes shall not be here for two more weeks and if our strength here is reduced greatly by sending half of them south, it is possible that he shall arrive to find that we have been overwhelmed.
Let us instead send two companies of Hornets south, accompanied by two squadrons of your men and two companies of Don Rafael’s light infantry.
We know that La Bañeza cannot easily be defended from the north and once taken, we have enough men to deal with Benavente.
Those that shall stay here, now have sufficient skill and marksmanship to frustrate any sally by the Astorga garrison before the rest of your army arrives.”
There was no further objection. Indeed, when Quintana and Sotomayor paused to consider that with five hundred men each plus three hundred Hornets, against a reported three thousand French, they wondered perhaps whether their newly acquired confidence in the ability of their men was quite as sound as they had thought.
Welbeloved asked Addenbrooke to take C and D Companies and assume overall command of the detachment. Quintana opted to stay at Astorga, but Sotomayor, once more mounted, decided to oversee how his men dealt with the possible siege of the two smaller southern towns, under Addenbrooke’s supervision.
His two companies of light infantry now learned another useful trick. It was fifteen miles to La Bañeza and even at light infantry pace they could not get there in daylight.
One hand grasping the saddle straps of the cavalry’s horses took them there with remarkable little effort, even to the horses, in well under four hours.
Even so, with two hours of daylight left, they were not quite in time to intercept a large foraging party that reached the shelter of the town only minutes before the first of Addenbrooke’s scouts could find and stop them.
It was unfortunate as it meant that however many French there were to defend the town, their numbers had just increased by more than a hundred.
The Hornets surrounded the town and began to observe and count the enemy. It was not as easy as they had hoped. La Bañeza was built close to the confluence of many streams and they had not yet shrunk to summer levels. It denied many routes to an attacker, yet conversely was not that easy to defend if the attacker could get across where the water levels were likely to fluctuate.
By the time that the Spanish cavalry; with their infantry literally in tow; had blocked all the roads in and out, Addenbrooke had made up his mind that the capture of La Bañeza should be a Spanish triumph, with only the assistance of himself and C Company.
Captain Dai Evans and D Company hardly had time to dismount before they were sent off to investigate the French presence in Benavente, more than twenty miles to the south-east. Leaving now, they ought to be able to camp on the way there and still arrive in sight of the town at dawn.
Almost, he contemplated sending C Company as well, but Diego Blanco and his men had spent three hectic weeks as instructors to the Spanish light infantry and two companies of their protégés were about to embark on their first serious action. Diego Blanco was more than willing to let his men act as nursemaids and Colonel Sotomayor was more than willing to accept their services.
The light infantry companies were set to work immediately, building small redoubts across the four main exits from the town. Three of these roads were across bridges and the French themselves had built temporary strongholds and barriers across the bridgeheads on the town side of the rivers. The fourth road passed between two substantial buildings that looked like convents or religious houses that had been converted to strongholds.
Addenbrooke, Blanco, Sotomayor and the commander of the cavalry detachment rode around and inspected each strongpoint before it was quite dark. It was a long detour and because they had to find their way across several streams and rivers, it was also a damp journey.
After studying the last of the four entrances and listening to each Hornet lieutenant, who had been busy watching and studying the one he had been allocated; noting the comings and goings on the far side, they all dismounted and listened as Addenbrooke told them what the Hornets were going to do. Then they listened some more as he outlined what he expected them to do.
“Señores, this is a situation for which your troops have had very little instruction, certainly none from the Avispónes. If you wish, you may regard what we are about to do as a continuation of the training you have already received.
I have estimated that the garrison is less than five hundred, including the foragers that we just missed yesterday. We have seen no cavalry and if there is artillery, it is within the strengthened buildings where there is no bridge.
We have to attack them before they realise that we have very few more troops than they do. Once they realise that, they shall fight for every building and that may become exceedingly messy.
The Avispónes shall take the lead and if you shall be so good as to have a company and a squadron before dawn, ready to cross each of the bridges, I shall explain what I hope they shall do.”
* * *
Diego Blanco liked night attacks. He had discovered after he joined the Hornets that he had excellent vision in the dark, not as good as most nocturnal animals, of course, but it was still above average, even for the Hornets, who tended to make a virtue out of such talents. He also liked them because most soldiers hated them and the Hornets had taught him to search out and develop every advantage he could discover over the enemy.
Technically, this was to be an attack at dawn, but not for the Hornets. Their work was for the dark and every man’s face was corked and olive-oiled to disguise the slightest glimpse of light flesh.
Even the moon was in a co-operative mood. It was almost full and only occasionally obscured by small clouds. Better still, it was due to set two hours before dawn, by which time the Hornets would be almost as familiar with the French routine around the bridges as the enemy were themselves.
Only the roads into the town over the bridges were to be the targets. The men posted close to the fortified buildings at the
fourth entry were only there to stop anyone escaping.
Each bridge had a similar type of semi-permanent defence. There was a reasonably substantial redoubt on each side of the road at the bridgehead and a tangle of beams studded with nasty pointed blades of various sorts. These beams were mounted on a framework that would allow them to be hauled aside to allow traffic through. They hadn’t budged since the attackers had been sighted.
The redoubts looked as though they could hold thirty to forty defenders each and that amounted to half the present garrison. They were not designed to hold sleeping men and at night, only a dozen men acted as vedettes, probably each six doing a two-hour watch while the others rested wherever they could find space. Every four hours, the guard changed and another dozen vedettes occupied each redoubt, marching in from billets no more than thirty to forty yards away.
It would be exhausting work over a few days. Addenbrooke estimated that a hundred men would be needed to man the redoubts on each bridge and provide a full complement when the sun rose. That was three quarters of the garrison, with the other quarter probably occupying the stronghold by the fourth entry point.
No body of men could be expected to keep that up for any length of time. It would surely be a kindness if the Hornets could clear a way for the Spanish to break in and force a surrender?
Blanco himself led the assault on the largest bridge. Colonel Addenbrooke had been wounded last year and although recovered, was now able to use only an arm and a half effectively. Physical confrontation was not an option for him yet.
Crossing the river was the main hazard. It was running quickly. Without swimming, the nearest point where a man could cross, wading up to his chest, was two hundred yards upstream. Weapons and powder would have to be kept dry by floating them across on improvised canvas-covered rafts.
Blanco had been bracing himself for a drenching and the misery of three or four hours in wet clothes, but had underestimated the ingenuity of his friend, Lieutenant Poyan. He had posted a watch over the opposite bank and satisfied himself that no enemy was waiting. His men stripped off clothes and floated their packs over together with their weapons on rafts made rather larger than originally specified.
They had to put their clothes on again over wet bodies, but it was infinitely preferable to a thorough soaking. The only slight discomfort was wet boots. No one had fancied bare feet in the rock-strewn stream.
An hour after they started they were across unseen and ready to move through the narrow lanes and alleys along the river bank toward the bridge.
Blanco had moved out two hours after the last change of vedettes. The Hornets now had the dark hour before dawn and before the redoubts were reinforced for the coming day.
There was no urgency. They could take all the time they needed to make sure that not even an owl should notice their silent passage. Blanco and half the platoon ghosted to the rear of the nearest redoubt, while Poyan and his other half assembled behind the far one. Both eyed the horizon and waited for the first faint line of light.
It was still too dark to see each other’s squad, but the assaults would be very nearly simultaneous. Blanco gave the signal and the men burst into the restricted space. Two further paces only and every standing figure died so quickly that only the faintest of groans disturbed the uncomfortable rest of the remaining six, before they too succumbed to the deadly long knives of the Hornets.
Blanco stepped outside and listened carefully. Quick as they had been, there was now a broad band of light on the horizon and the rest of the garrison would soon be assembling. He heard one muted scream from the far redoubt, but only the one and it could be mistaken easily for the screech of an owl or the harsh scream of a fox.
He nodded with satisfaction and got the men looking for a way of separating the barrier so that both halves could be pulled away.
It was not to be. The middle of the barrier was held together by chains, the last links of which must have been forged in situ by a blacksmith only yesterday. The hinges at both ends that allowed the barrier to be opened, were bolted solidly through a foot square beam of hard timber that was sunk deep in the earth.
At the very moment of this discovery, the French showed their total lack of consideration by sounding their morning reveille and dozens of soldiers came swarming out onto the street only fifty yards away, ready to man the defences by the bridge.
Blanco glared at the sturdy beams. They would have to be hacked through somehow and all that was available was the collection of long knives that the Hornets had just used on the unfortunate vedettes. Even hacking as hard as they could was never going to be done in time to clear the way for the cavalry.
He called across the road to Poyan. “We are in a small scrape, Manolo. Get one or two men to start whittling at the base of those posts and send someone to bring the cavalry to the bridge and fetch the infantry.
It’s time for the cavalry to skirmish on foot as we have taught them and if we can weaken the posts, the horses can be used to pull them over. In the meantime I shall get the rest of the men into a skirmishing arc to cover our front and flanks.”
The shouting of commands to get the French into ranks and ready to march, stopped suddenly. It had become light enough for them to see that something at the bridge was not as it should be. The sudden silence made the noise of the chopping blades very loud indeed.
Startled commands rang out and the sound of a hundred bayonets being fixed came clearly to the ears. The Hornets went to ground. There was no cover, but head and shoulders made a much smaller target than an erect body.
Bugles rang out and a mass of men advanced down the street. As in all Spanish towns, the street was narrow and forced the troops, will he nil he, into a column, five men across and packed together, shoulder to shoulder.
It was still half-light, but they were only fifty yards away and would not be able to deploy outwards for another twenty yards, when the street opened up approaching the bridge.
It mattered little to the Hornets. Twenty of them opened fire, falling automatically into volleys of five shots every two or three seconds. A pile of corpses built up in front of the column and the French melted away into the cover of any side streets and alleys that they could find.
Then a squadron of Spanish cavalry arrived at the bridge, dismounted and crowded out and away from the bridge, armed only with their improved carbines without bayonets.
By the time the first of the light infantry crossed the bridge with bayonets bristling, ropes had been attached to the stubborn posts and three horses snapped them off where the knives of the Hornets had weakened them. Half the cavalry squadron reclaimed their horses and went hunting Frenchmen in the town; quickly meeting with their comrades from the other two bridges. They had passed into the town as planned, with very little difficulty from the bridge barricades.
Two hours later, all the French had surrendered, after a last desperate sally by the occupants of the fortified convents was thwarted by the waiting, and until that moment, unused detachment.
The Spaniards were elated. Four casualties only, mainly through misplaced enthusiasm, was unheard of when attacking a defended strongpoint. Addenbrooke left them to march the prisoners north and took C Company south to see if Evans needed any help at Benavente.
CHAPTER 7
As dinners go, the food had been very acceptable and the wine excellent. Lord Wellington was renowned for his hospitality; he loved to talk with anyone interesting who happened to be passing through his headquarters. He enjoyed good wines as well, but food was only something that had to be consumed so that his body could continue to enjoy good conversation, power and esteem for his successes, the joys of meticulous planning and the seemingly unending contest with marshals commanding the most successful war machine the world had ever known.
The select group of officers with whom he was sharing his meal had no complaints whatever. During the past three years they had been almost continuously on campaign and what they were now eating was infinitely superior
to the basic supplies that kept them going in the field.
Even the most junior of them was not so naïve as to be unaware that they were not being entertained because his lordship valued their political connections or stores of esoteric knowledge.
They knew that he valued their professional competence and that this was his way of getting them all together to talk about what he would like them to undertake ahead of his coming advance on Salamanca, Marshal Marmont and the French Army of Portugal.
They were also very aware that no other unit under his command was ever given the chance to discuss the orders he gave. He had early discovered that many of the generals sent out to him by the Horse Guards were not merely incompetent, but some were actually mentally unstable. His success as a winning commander owed much to the enormously detailed orders that he issued, often at the very last minute. No deviation was ever acceptable.
Seated around his table were the commanders of the 2nd and 4th battalions of the Hornets, led by Colonel Lord George Vere in the absence of General Welbeloved.
Lieutenant Colonel Günther Roffhack and Major Hagen represented the German 4th Battalion. Lieutenant Colonel Fernando Gonçalves and newly promoted Major Dodds commanded the Portuguese 2nd Battalion. Captain Pom Bal Li, one of Wellington’s aides stolen from the Portuguese Battalion, also merited his seat.
Lord Wellington was in no hurry to get down to business. He had been enormously influential in encouraging the growth of the Hornets and thoroughly enjoyed the company of the bright young men that, he maintained, knew more about fighting the French than all his generals.
After the covers were removed and everybody was relaxed over their port or brandy, he began. “I do not begin to delude myself, Lord George and Gentlemen, that you are naïve enough to think that this small soirée is only to express my appreciation of your past services, or even because I enjoy talking to young men who are thoroughly professional and practised in warfare, well beyond their years.
The Confrontation at Salamanca Page 8