Earlier today you shall all have seen both armies marching south side by side. Sir Joshua is convinced that the French shall soon try and bring about an engagement, possibly by attacking with their vanguard to try and turn our right flank.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth when the sound of artillery could be heard from the direction they had just come. He cracked a huge grin.
“I had not anticipated that there would be appropriate sounds to accompany my talk, but they are really well timed.
Pay no heed to them. Sir Joshua says that the country to our north offers us no advantage to us and he confides that Lord Wellington shall refuse battle and retreat into Salamanca.
He thinks it probable that Marmont shall nevertheless wish to continue his turning movement to menace our lines of retreat and communication with Portugal. He shall not be able to do that along the ten-mile stretch of the north bank of the Tormes that runs west from here to Salamanca.
His option, then, is to continue his march south and cross the Tormes either at Huerta, on the bend as the river turns from south to west, or at Alba de Tormes, that is ten miles farther south.
Whatever he does decide, it is our duty to report on it as soon as it happens.”
He turned to his second-in-command, Major Hagen. “Heinz, shall you please take A and B Squadrons and watch the crossings at Huerta and Alba. Do not forget Marmont’s ploy at Toro. You shall need to be alert for any similar feints over either of these bridges, unlikely as it may seem.”
Heinz Hagen rode off toward Huerta with Captains Weiss and Fischer of A and B Squadrons. Hagen had always been more pragmatic than his friend Roffhack. He had listened to all the speculation and had studied the map showing the Tormes flowing ten miles north from Alba to Huerta then turning sharply due west for another ten miles to Salamanca.
If it was true, as Sir Joshua had surmised, that Marmont would not risk an attack on Salamanca on the north bank of the river, then it was unlikely that he would do so on the south bank either. He would surely try to march his army south across the river and sweep west around Salamanca, to threaten Wellington’s supply lines and cut off his retreat? It would force him to fight or defend the town itself. It was very basic strategic thinking and his part in it was to take two squadrons of Hornissen and report at very frequent intervals on which bridge was being used and how the French were deploying once they were across.
He rode directly to Huerta, crossed the bridge that had no signs of any guards, friendly or hostile. He sent B Squadron to make camp within a couple of miles; a camp that could be used as a reserve base to relieve A Squadron, two troops of which were in concealment, watching the bridge and the other two troops, ten miles south, watching the crossing at Alba.
Roffhack had retraced his steps to the northeast with C and D Squadrons. Eight troops in rough line abreast, warily watching until they had made contact with the vanguard cavalry of the French army.
He had no orders to do anything but observe and report. That is what he intended to do, but as the brief engagement farther north had now ceased, he needed to be certain that he was reporting a genuine movement of the French army rather than simple cavalry reconnaissance.
The Hornissen started to enjoy themselves across the whole front of the advance. They used the skills that they had developed to taunt and harass the French trailblazers in the hilly and wooded country that was so ideal for their style of combat.
Welbeloved and Vere had also been enjoying themselves. Anticipating that Marmont would indeed try to bring on an engagement when the terrain offered him more of an advantage, they had both moved forward to join Lieutenant Colonel Gonçalves and the Portuguese Hornets. This battalion had now taken over as the advance guard for the naval division and had moved closer to the line of march of the army.
The River Guareña was five miles behind them and the army was marching up a tributary towards the small village of Cantalpino. It was here that Marmont made his move.
Watching from higher ground, the Vespãos saw a regiment of line infantry form into column directly from their line of march and wheel to challenge British infantry, still marching stolidly south.
Immediately it became obvious that it was a planned move when two or three hundred voltigeurs came trotting along and fanned out in front of the infantry, hastening toward the now halted line of British infantry that was making ready to receive them. They were keeping a wary eye upon a couple of squadrons of dragoons, that were quite capable of destroying the waiting infantry if they could avoid a clash with British light dragoons. A squadron of these had been leading the vanguard and was now returning at the prospect of a fight.
All that was missing was allied light infantry to engage the voltigeurs and stop them having complete freedom to harass the line of infantry.
Gonçalves glanced at Vere. “I think a helping hand shall be appreciated down there, George. I can see no one to counter the voltigeurs.”
Vere too had been assessing the engagement. Everything seemed balanced except for the skirmishers, but the attack was clearly not spontaneous. It had to have been planned to give Marmont an opening to exploit. Even so, he had a feeling that all was not completely as it seemed.
Nevertheless he nodded. “You shall only need two companies for that, Fernando. Take A and B. Leave the other two with me. I have a suspicion that the French are being deceitful, but I can’t think how yet.”
Gonçalves tipped his bonnet and led two companies downhill, leaving the horses behind the ranks of infantry and filtering through to confront the voltigeurs who were now only two or three hundred yards away.
Welbeloved watched with approval and nudged Vere. “Always trust yor suspicions, George. Look yonder!”
George followed the pointing finger. Dashing into sight, following the track into the village, was a half battery of four small guns, possibly four pounders, swerving to move down the side of the infantry column, looking for a position from where they could enfilade the British line without endangering their voltigeurs.
Case shot or grape coming in at an angle from the flank could shatter an infantry line and must not be allowed to happen. The guns were unlimbering downhill, perhaps six or seven hundred yards away. Vere waved Captain da Silva over and pointed. “Take C Company and deal with those guns, if you please. Watch out for cavalry covering them. I have seen none as yet, but they usually have the odd troop looking out for their gunners.”
Da Silva grinned. “On my way, Sir. I have enough men to deal with the guns and any cavalry. May we have a crack at the infantry column afterwards?”
Vere waved him on. Do as you see fit, but listen for my recall, if I see something you cannot.”
Da Silva sent 1 and 2 Platoons downhill, picking their way as quickly as was sensible until sixty men, armed with breech-loading rifles, dismounted and went to ground within two hundred yards of the guns. 3 and 4 Platoons moved more circumspectly behind them, collecting their horses and moving into two lines in echelon to their rear and facing a squadron of chasseurs-à-cheval that had spurred into sight as soon as the Vespãos started to move.
Welbeloved, Vere and Captain Figueredo of D Company searched around to see whether any other parties were intending to join in. To the great disappointment of Figueredo, there were no more to be seen just yet.
Clouds of powder smoke blossomed all along the front, all of it from the Vespãos. A and B Companies were very active. They did not want the voltigeurs to get within range of the British lines and that meant keeping them more than a hundred yards away. Several hundred men standing in line was a target big enough to suffer casualties at that distance, even from the notoriously inaccurate French 1777 muskets.
In the numbers of skirmishers, voltigeurs and Vespãos were probably about equal, but that was the only thing equal about it. From three hundred yards or more, the voltigeurs became targets. They had no hope of making an effective reply at that distance and what is more, after the first volley from the Vespãos had sought out
perhaps a quarter of them, there were more rifles left than targets to aim at. Any green uniform that stood or knelt to take a shot, immediately attracted the attention of two or more rifles.
Two split volleys faded into a scattering of shots as sensible voltigeurs not only lay flat, but also took off their enormous shakos that seemed to attract lead balls as flies to rotting meat.
The head of the attacking column was still four hundred yards away. It was only just coming within range of the rifles.
The four-gun half battery had not succeeded in firing a shot. Nothing was moving around the guns. They were not even pointing at the British line.
Instead, anything that had been moving around the guns had been shot; men and horses both. Not a gunner or horse remained uninjured and the guns would therefore be useless until replacements were found. The Hornets did not care much for gunners. They were the only Frenchmen who could shoot farther than they could.
Their escorting cavalry was too late to have any effect on the outcome, but they could all see the thin line of horsemen waiting to offer them some sort of revenge. Four waves of chasseurs made straight for them, without stopping to consider the now thinning powder smoke that had annihilated the guns and their crews. They were only skirmishers after all, and when had cavalry ever bothered about skirmishers?
They should have bothered. The two platoons of skirmishers let them come within a hundred yards and gave them two quick split volleys that laid half of them on the ground.
The mounted platoons behind the skirmishers waited only long enough to determine how many chasseurs were still in the saddle, before they too delivered a single volley from echelon.
Seated in the saddle, their marksmanship was not remotely as accurate as the skirmishers, but a hail of lead emptied many more saddles and was followed up with a disdainful charge at the canter that sent a dozen or more survivors fleeing for their lives.
The head of the column was now well within range of A and B Companies, who stopped searching for voltigeurs and started peeling away the leading files with deadly effect. The two platoons of C Company, having seen off the half battery, concentrated on the flanks of the column.
To add to the French misery, a battery of four six-pounder guns had galloped into action on the far right flank of the line of redcoats and begun to pour grape shot into the left flank of the column, that was now being shredded from the front and both sides.
French cavalry on that flank advanced to challenge the artillery and British light dragoons pitched into them with enthusiasm. The French dragoons had not seen the rout of their chasseurs on the other flank and fought back vigorously.
A vicious encounter developed that kept the cavalry occupied, while the guns poured several salvoes into the flanks of the column. They ran.
Marmont’s latest attempt to turn Wellington had failed badly. It was impossible to say whether it would have had more success if it had come to a fire-fight between the column and the line.
It would surely have been messier and the result might have been closer. However, Wellington was determined not to fight in that place and the intervention of the Hornets enabled him to withdraw all his forces in good order to Salamanca, without giving the slightest encouragement to the French.
Marmont abandoned all thoughts of following. He marched his army straight on towards the River Tormes.
Wellington himself rode up to witness the final rout of the French onslaught and gave orders for a general withdrawal west, confident that he would see no more of the French north of the river. He was last seen deep in conversation with Welbeloved, leaving a relieved, but slightly disconsolate colonel of infantry, whose men marched off in tearing good spirits, having incurred no casualties, but never having been close enough to the enemy to fire a single shot.
When the French reached the Tormes, C and D Squadrons split. Roffhack remained with C Squadron on the Salamanca side and returned to the town as soon as he was satisfied that the French had no intention of moving west along the north bank.
Captain Siegfried Werther moved eastwards with D Squadron and waited to see if the French would cross the river at Huerta or move south down the eastern bank to Alba de Tormes and cross there.
Apparently, Marmont could see no point in going anywhere else. There was an unguarded bridge at Huerta and he lost no time in continuing his march south, with the intention of turning west and forcing Wellington to give battle or retreat.
His army began to cross in the early evening and continued all night, enduring a thorough soaking from violent, unseasonal thunderstorms.
By morning, most of the French army was on the south bank of the river and all through the night, Wellington had been given an hour by hour account by the observers from Roffhack’s Hornissen.
The allied army had also spent the night in the pouring rain, crossing to the south bank of the Tormes over the bridge at Salamanca. It was rushed immediately east to deploy facing the French.
It was almost as if the river and the town of Salamanca did not exist. Both armies had met south of the Duero and had marched steadily south, side by side, with Marmont making occasional, sudden probing attacks and being repulsed, but always trying to start an encircling movement and move the head of the columns to the west.
South of the Tormes, nothing changed except the nature of the countryside. The terrain became hillier and more extensively wooded. The armies continued to march south, but rarely in full view of each other; just occasional glimpses.
Another similarity was that they both marched on opposite banks of the River Pelagarcia that flowed north into the Tormes.
After about five miles, they were approaching the Arapiles hills. Both the lesser Arapiles in the north and the greater Arapiles, half a mile to the south, were directly in the line of march of Wellington’s army. It was at this point that Marmont launched another of his attacks to try and force an engagement, sending in a swarm of voltigeurs to engage units of the Seventh Division, who took up positions on the banks of the Pelagarcia.
The Hornets were back to full strength and riding parallel to the army as before. They were actually approaching the slopes of the northern hill, the lesser Arapiles, when the bickering erupted behind them.
Welbeloved had been riding with his wife and the mortar teams when the sound of muskets and the occasional flatter-sounding cracks of Baker rifles swelled into a nasty little exchange that was probably never going to be much more than that, unless a serious exchange of volley-fire should come about.
Vere heard the cantering hooves behind him and turned to hear: “Get everyone moving quickly, George! We need to be in control of this northern hill before the French can grab it.”
The Hornets quickened their pace and flowed up the slopes of the northern Arapiles just in time. French cavalry, followed by light infantry were massing to the east and saw the drab-coloured horsemen swarming over the slopes.
It was a minor inconvenience for them. The brief exchange of musketry had caused everyone to pause and see what was happening. Now, French cavalry and light infantry rushed past the base of the northern Arapiles and took possession of the larger, southern Arapiles.
Marmont now controlled the larger of the two hills that stood directly in the path of Wellington’s army. Ridges and lesser slopes stretched westward from this commanding position. The long march south was over. The French marshal had succeeded in putting himself in the way and turning the allied army. If Wellington was still intent on not accepting battle, he must retreat west or into Salamanca.
Some while later, Wellington joined them on the hill. “Quick thinking as usual, Sir Joshua. Our position should not have been improved had Marmont taken both of these hills. I took my eye off the ball while deploying the last of my army to cross to the south bank. He caught me between the wickets, so to speak.”
Welbeloved had rarely been exposed to this strange game, this seemingly national obsession with cricket. He was nevertheless aware that his chief was making some kind of just
ification for allowing Marmont to seize an advantage.
He made no comment as Wellington gallantly raised his hat when the Condesa walked up. “Good morning to you, M’Lady. I think it may still be morning, if only just. I cannot bring myself to approve of your presence in the middle of our squabble, but you are now a veteran of others of our engagements and have performed valiantly on every occasion. There is really no point in asking you to pay heed to your safety, is there?”
She smiled and made a brief curtsey in response to his gesture. “Not at all, My Lord. Believe me, there is no place safer in these parts, than in the heart of your naval division, the international Hornets. Additionally, I have even greater protection in the emplacements I have found for our massed mortars.
They are presently ranged on various points on yonder French hill. Being a woman, I do not have to subscribe to the ridiculous male convention about army commanders. Should I notice even a modicum of gold braid across this valley, my mortars shall try and hit it.”
Wellington grinned. “I have never noticed that the enemy holds back when I am within their range. I am the last one to spoil your fun, Madam.”
He turned back to Welbeloved. “Marmont shall certainly use that hill as a pivot to conceal the feeding of his troops westward to menace what he considers to be my retreat!
It may just be to our advantage that he shall have to stretch his army around our massed divisions. I shall leave the Naval Division here at the angle of our L shaped line. It is possible that the French may attack the position that we have taken up in the village of Arapiles, to the west of this hill. Please use your judgement about whether to interfere with the flank of such an attack.
You should generally ignore movements of men in your rear. Two may play at the game of using hills to conceal troop movements and the Seventh Division shall soon move behind you from our eastern line to our southern line. Your neighbours to your east and north shall be Campbell’s First Division.
He rode off to supervise his southern-facing massed divisions and Welbeloved found a dip in the ground on the forward slope of the lesser Arapiles from where he could observe the greater Arapiles and the activity surrounding it.
The Confrontation at Salamanca Page 23