The Confrontation at Salamanca

by Geoffrey Watson

  Instinctively he turned north, guessing that his master would be close to whatever became the first area of contact, wishing to see the enemy and make his own assessment of their intentions.

  All the probing units that he met, greeted the Hornets with initial suspicion, that quickly turned to approval when they learned of his extensive knowledge of French movements. Mostly they were under the impression that Lord Wellington was farther north and were themselves disinclined to move farther east without orders, given that distant glimpses of the enemy could be seen from high points along the road.

  At one of the highest points, Pom asked Lieutenant Jorge Oliveiro to pause while they studied the country to the east for troop movements. Both of them had small spyglasses that would have been excellent for studying the actors in a theatre. Here, they just about doubled the distance that could be viewed by a good pair of eyes, but the movement of French uniforms could certainly be made out. Not the blue and white of the infantry, but the more flamboyant colours of cavalry probes.

  They also located the small party of aides and escorts that surrounded Lord Wellington. It was just nearing the crest of a ridge bearing a few houses and a mill that would give a good view of the farther valley.

  What it did not do was give to the aides any sort of view of the squadron of French dragoons riding up on the opposite side of the hill.

  As Wellington was always somewhat intolerant of his nominal escort of British dragoons; they were loitering at the base of the hill and would prove useless when the inevitable confrontation occurred.

  All this was happening over a quarter of a mile away across the valley, but there was no one in evidence who could interfere.

  “Make sure every rifle is loaded and on half cock, Jorge, then follow me!”

  He set his horse to the downward slope, letting the animal pick its own way at the best speed it could manage. As soon as the ground levelled, an energy-saving canter took them to the base of the hill where all the strength and stamina of the beast would be needed.

  Oliveiro and his platoon streamed after him and were nearing the start of the climb when they were noticed by an alert dragoon in the escort.

  Several dragoons spurred to intercept and Pom stood in his stirrups, showing his shoulder braid that he wore as one of Wellington's aides. He yelled his loudest. ”French dragoons attacking Lord Wellington! Bring your squadron now!”

  He shouted as clearly as he could and was obviously understood as bugles sounded before he was halfway to the summit.

  The summit was deceptive in that it was actually an elongated small plateau with eight to a dozen dwellings and a mill, instead of the one or two that had been seen from the far ridge.

  As an observation point it was ideal, giving views of four or five miles to the east and half a mile west to the road that the Hornets had just left.

  Pom came onto the plateau, probably fifty yards from the nearest house and did not know whether he had made it in time or not. There was activity between the houses, certainly, but were they in the act of fighting, fleeing or surrendering? Surely, if Wellington was using a building as a viewing point, he must have seen the dragoons pouring onto the plateau?

  There! A good dozen horsemen shot out from between the houses and headed directly toward Pom and those Hornets that had managed to reach the top.

  He had to make an instant decision. Barely a dozen yards behind the fleeing party, the first of the dragoons burst into sight, swords drawn in anticipation. Surely their horses had to be blown after the climb, but none of them were showing signs of it?

  The Hornets could not charge. They would be utterly frustrated trying to get through the galloping fugitives. Even then they would be outnumbered by more than four to one.

  Pom remembered the whistle commands. He blew hard and every man threw himself from his horse and took aim at any part of horse or green and red uniform that could be identified as French. At the same time he bellowed in his loudest voice, which was cracking under the adolescent strain. “SPREAD OUT! DON’T BUNCH!”

  He never remembered where he found that last word, but it worked. The riders swerved and scattered and more French could be seen through the gaps.

  Everything happened within seconds. Each Hornet had time for only one shot and while they reloaded, Wellington’s party were past them and charging recklessly down the hill, leaving a clear field of fire to the Hornets at point blank range for their second shot.

  Almost all the leading dragoons had been wounded in some fashion and their prey had vanished downhill. It was replaced by British dragoons, or at any rate, those that had not collided with the fugitives. They streamed onto the plateau and threw themselves at the French, who seemed determined to give as good as they got.

  The Hornets got off a few more shots, but there was now too much danger of hitting the wrong man. As they had accounted for at least a troop of casualties, the British dragoons had the advantage of greater numbers.

  Pom and Oliveiro’s platoon collected their horses and followed Wellington’s party back to the road. The commander-in-chief made plain his gratitude for the timely intervention, but was inclined to treat the whole incident as just another of those accidents of war.

  “No matter what one’s rank, Don Li, war is a dangerous business and I have to see for myself what the enemy is doing at all times. It is fortunate that although they were much closer than I had expected, so also were you.

  There is a certain rhythm to our affairs and I had neglected to take into account that whatever I ask Welbeloved to do, happens so much more quickly than I can hope for from my other commanders.

  Please report now, as you had intended to do. Let me know how the naval division disengaged and how the French reacted.”

  “Yes, My Lord. Sir Joshua was holding a short line facing northeast and pivoting on the village of Nava del Rey, with the French moving south in divisional numbers and starting to outflank the position to move west and come into contact with our main forces.

  When I informed him that you were establishing a defensive line behind the River Guareña, he disengaged slowly toward the southwest. By now he is safely behind our cavalry screen and the enemy is probing west from an extended line, probably three to four miles long.

  Sir Joshua asked me to say that he hazards that Marmont is deployed ready to bring on a general engagement, even though his probes in strength against the Hornet’s defensive positions have been less than wholehearted.

  He has been content to allow us to repulse his attacks as long as we then retired immediately to another position and made no determined attempt to prevent him outflanking to our right.

  Apart from that, My Lord, the occupation of the territory between the two armies is quite scattered and very fluid. The French are generally moving southwest, looking to move west.

  Those units of our own army that I have met have been told where the enemy shall be expected. In accordance with your orders they are mostly edging south, but preparing to move southwest toward the Guareña when contact is made. Both armies look to be extended two or three miles from east of north to south of west, My Lord.”

  “You paint a picture, Don Li, of almost what I hoped for if Welbeloved succeeded in containing Marmont for long enough. Go back to him and tell him to withdraw behind the Guareña. Bring him back with you when you return.

  Tell him that I am now re-ordering the army and it shall follow him west of the Guareña. The ground there is passably defensible should Marmont attempt to bring about a general engagement, though I do not anticipate that he shall try at that point.”

  Before he sent his other aides scurrying to do his bidding, he demanded that Pom presented Oliveiro and his men. With Pom translating he thanked them for their help. “In any other army you would have earned the right to a special title as Commander’s guard or some such. We do not behave that way, but ask Captain Pom to put his mind to some suitable soubriquet to mark the occasion and I shall approve it. Well done, Vespãos!” The fac
t that he had remembered the portuguese for Hornet, made almost as much impression as his words.

  The rest of the day was spent by the allied army, deploying behind the River Guareña and edging south to match the build-up of the French forces.

  The River Guareña flowed north for about twenty-five miles from the hills north of Salamanca to its confluence with the Duero, close to Toro.

  Both armies were feeling their way into contact with each other and the initial and only attempt that day was made by elements of the French vanguard where the Salamanca-Tordesillas road crossed the River Guareña.

  Units of the allied Fourth Division were occupying the small village of Castrillo de la Guareña and were driven out by troops of Brennier’s vanguard.

  Trying to seize the initiative, they continued to advance up the slopes beyond, where Anson’s British and Stubbs’s Portuguese Brigades were concealed.

  It was allied lines against French columns once more and the French were sent reeling back to the eastern bank.

  Next day, Wellington and his staff were riding south slowly up the west bank of the river. Welbeloved had joined him and shared the unusual sight of two opposing armies marching south on either side of the river, both within sight of each other, where conditions allowed and both studiously ignoring the other.

  “I do commend you, Sir Joshua, for your masterly containment of Marmont’s breakout until I was able to match his moves. We should, I think, have been able to do so in any event, but he could have caught us while my divisions were scattered and forced a more general engagement.

  Had he managed to breach the line of the Guareña, he should have had a greater advantage than I could have accepted. I should have retired directly on Salamanca and dared him to fight for the town.

  Now, largely because of your division, he has indulged in some highly theatrical manoeuvring to get himself across the Duero and all he has achieved is an army exhausted by marching and a stalemate in which we hold a marginally advantageous position.

  Unfortunately, it is not advantageous enough to risk an engagement. It should be a bloodbath and I cannot tolerate that. I shall not be surprised if he attempts it where our defensive terrain is less supportive. I confide that I can always meet force with force, but it shall be convenient if your division shall ride south, parallel to the army but perhaps a mile to the west.

  Should you spread your men over two miles, I can send Pom to tell you when any part of our line needs support and it is possible that you can have a battalion there in minutes. Is it not so?”

  Welbeloved looked blank for a few seconds, then came to with a slight start and murmured “Yes, My Lord”

  Surprised; Wellington threw a sharp glance at him. “That is the shortest answer I have ever had from you, Sir Joshua. Is something not as it should be?”

  Welbeloved coloured up slightly and cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Everything is exactly as it should be, My Lord. I now see that when yew asked the naval division to disengage and retire behind yor divisions on the Guareña, perhaps yor intention was that we should relax?”

  “Naturally, Sir Joshua. What else should you do after two hard days in action?” Realisation came as he read Welbeloved’s expression. “I see! Are you now going to tell me where the naval division is?”

  “Yes, My Lord. It has been relaxing overnight in bivouac, deployed as yew have just this minute requested. There is a slight variation in that each battalion has a troop or platoon in position to observe the enemy. As Yor Lordship has just confirmed, it did seem the most sensible thing to do.”

  Wellington did not know whether to be exasperated or admiring. “I do thank God that none of my other generals anticipate everything that I wish them to do, Welbeloved. There would be utter chaos if I allowed them the same licence.”

  Welbeloved strove to be conciliatory. “I should like yew to reflect, My Lord, that I could not drive the great lumbering beast that yew call yor army. Each arm is a weapon that yew must choose to use when most appropriate.

  I am though, thoroughly familiar with this, yor latest weapon, the Hornets and I have the time to think where best to position it so that it is available for yew to use when needful.

  I cannot guarantee that I may deduce correctly each time, but I had assumed that it was the reason why yew favoured me when discussing yor hopes, rather than waiting until yor decision was actually being implemented.”

  “That and the fact that I may give no indication of what I intend to any other officer, Sir Joshua, even those on my staff. To a man they are croakers and writers of letters to friends at home, who pass them instantly to the London press. Within a week, Bonaparte is reading them and knows more about my intentions than I do.

  I am aware that you discuss tactics and strategy with all your officers. It is another reason why you are all becoming so valuable. Given a sudden choice of options, I confide that any of your people are likely to choose the one most profitable for our cause.

  What is certain, I find, is that none of your discussions have direct indications about what I intend to do. It is all your own speculation and as such, not worth writing about to influential relations until it has actually happened. Not that your officers seem to have all that many relatives of influence: probably all the better for it.”

  It did not seem that Wellington’s statement called for any further comment and Welbeloved merely watched as his chief pulled a folded map from a capacious pocket. It proved to be one of those that the Hornets had prepared of the whole of this area some weeks ago. He unfolded it and refolded it to give a foot square representation of the area they were traversing.

  “Both armies are marching south-westward toward the bend in the River Tormes, that is now about twenty miles ahead of our vanguard.

  As you have successfully anticipated my wishes in regard to the order of your march, I shall now try to anticipate what Marmont may attempt before tonight and what I hope the Hornets shall then do.”

  It was an open opportunity for Welbeloved to speculate, but he resisted the temptation.

  Wellington smiled at the hesitation. “I confide that within the next ten miles, there shall be an attempt; wholehearted or half hearted; by Marmont to bring on an engagement.

  The country along the north bank of the Tormes is only marginally favourable for us and I shall refuse the challenge and retreat toward Salamanca, where he shall have a greater disadvantage.

  It is at that point that I shall be with child to know what Marmont may intend. It was Colonel Roffhack and his Germans who performed valiantly in that very area only three or four weeks ago. I shall be grateful if he may become my eyes and ears again and tell me what Marmont is about.”

  Welbeloved called to mind the map of Salamanca and the River Tormes that the Hornets had prepared and which Wellington was using. He could only think of three options open to Marmont, but it was only sensible to let Roffhack have confirmation, even though he would probably work it out for himself.

  “If I may borrow Pom to take the message, My Lord, Günther Roffhack can detach his entire battalion. He shall probably need them all if he is to cover all the options open to the French.”

  Wellington nodded his satisfaction, as much as anything in vindication of his judgement that Welbeloved and the Hornets would be aware of what the French would want to do and that the information would come back to him almost before they did it.

  “Pom is at your disposal, Sir Joshua. While he is there, he can tell Colonel Gonçalves that I am aware of the name the troops have for me, or one of them at least. Quite unofficially, I shall be happy if Lieutenant Oliveiro’s platoon become known as the Peer’s Guard as an indication of my gratitude for their opportune intervention yesterday.”

  CHAPTER 19

  The map of the area around Salamanca that the Hornets had prepared, in the months before the present campaign started, was proving its worth to a far greater extent than even Wellington could have foreseen.

  All the senior officers of
the Fourth Battalion of the Naval Division, the German Hornissen, carried their own copy. It was to prove essential in the way that Lieutenant Colonel Günther Roffhack ordered his command following the instructions he had received from Welbeloved, by the hand of young Captain Pom, the impossibly immature-looking aide to the commander-in-chief.

  This detachment was a welcome diversion for Roffhack. He had his full, independent battalion under his sole command for the next few days, without having to consider the new brigade structure that combined his Germans with the Second Battalion, the Portuguese Vespãos, commanded by his colleague and friend, Lieutenant Colonel Fernando Gonçalves.

  If all this marching and counter marching was indeed going to develop into a full scale battle, he had no doubt that Welbeloved’s two brigade structure was the best formation for the naval division to adopt. However, there was nothing like the exhilarating freedom of independent command and he and his men must make the most of it.

  Early in the afternoon, he had ridden on with the Hornissen from their position at the head of the division and left the vanguard duties to Gonçalves and his Vespãos. Now his battalion was approaching the River Tormes and he had gathered his squadron commanders around him to make sure that they all understood the role that they had to play.

  The map was spread out on the back of one of their small support wagons and the six of them gathered round to study it and listen to his latest assessment.

  “There is no need to remind you, Gentlemen, that it is less than two weeks since we were in this very area, reconnoitring for Lord Wellington and watching for any ploys that Marmont would try in order to catch our army off guard.

  Now, here we are again, doing exactly the same duty, because the French are doing exactly the same thing. The vital difference is that they are now looking to start a fight, rather than just cause trouble while they sought a safe defensive position behind the Duero.