THE GENERALS

by Simon Scarrow

  He was silent for a moment, reflecting on the bloody crossing of the River Adda at Lodi that had taken most of the day. Several times the grenadiers had advanced towards the bridge along a narrow causeway under murderous fire from the far bank and it was not until after six in the evening that his men had broken through and the French army had started to cross in strength.The pursuit of the Austrians had continued until darkness fell, and only then had the French made camp for the night. By the time the headquarters tents had been set up it was past midnight and the officers around Napoleon were bleary-eyed and exhausted. Like their men, he reflected. Well, it was too bad. The impetus had to be maintained to force the Austrians to turn and fight, and if they didn’t then they must be chased right out of Italy, leaving only the massive fortress at Mantua to deal with. That could be starved into submission by a covering force while Napoleon led the rest of the army into the Tyrol. The Austrians would then be caught between the Army of Italy and the Army of the Rhine, which even now should be pushing towards Austria on the far side of the Alps, according to the Directory’s grand strategy.

  He rubbed his eyes and blinked, fighting back his desire for sleep. Then he pulled a map towards him and pointed out the next river barrier.

  ‘If things run true to form, Beaulieu will fall back behind the Oglio. If we can force him back from that line, then we can cut off Mantua.’

  Junot cleared his throat. ‘Is that wise, sir? Shouldn’t we consolidate our gains first? Now that Beaulieu has retreated, Milan must fall to us. Our troops need to rest. And, as you pointed out, thanks to the length of our supply lines we’re running out of powder and rations. But most of all we need more men, sir.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Serurier added. ‘We’ve been promised reinforcements for months. So far I’ve not had one man to replace my losses. Sir, you said that there would be more men.’

  ‘I’ve written to the Directory to request reinforcements on more occasions than I care to remember,’ Napoleon said wearily. ‘You would think that after all we have achieved they would give us the tools to win further victories. But it seems that the Directory has decided that all available men will be sent to the Army of the Rhine.’

  ‘That’s not quite what I’ve heard,’ Masséna growled. ‘We’ve been sent reinforcements, but that bastard Kellermann is creaming them off for the Army of the Alps as they march through his area of operations.’

  ‘That is a rumour,’ Napoleon said firmly. ‘Those men must have been sent to him, not us.’

  ‘You really think so, sir?’ Masséna smiled bitterly.

  ‘I know it. Kellermann is a man of honour. And he’s intelligent enough to realise that we need reinforcements far more than he does.’

  ‘Then why is he being reinforced and not us?’ Masséna asked.

  ‘Politics, that’s why.’ Junot sneered. ‘This was supposed to be a sideshow to the main thrust across the Rhine.’ He turned towards Napoleon. ‘Sir, that’s why they picked you for this command. After the victory over the royalists you became an embarrassment to the politicians.They needed you out of Paris, and the Army of Italy should have been the graveyard of your ambitions. The trouble is you keep winning battles and their plans have misfired. That is why we receive no help from them.’

  Napoleon thought for a moment. It could be true. But surely not even a venal politician would put his own interests above the interests of his country? He had met and mingled with the Directors, and had sensed the ideals that had drawn them to the revolution and the need to build a new France. But it seemed that time had eroded those aspirations. He frowned. When the war was over, then maybe he would return to Paris and do what he could to force idealism back into public affairs. That was the future, he reminded himself. For the present he had more pressing problems to deal with. He looked at Junot.

  ‘It is time we began to show the government why they should be reinforcing and resupplying us.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘What is it that our politicians want above all else, right now?’

  ‘To beat the enemy and end the war,’ Junot replied.

  Napoleon shook his head. ‘You are thinking too much like a soldier.’

  Masséna chuckled. ‘They want money. The treasury is empty, and gold and silver are the sinews of war. Not to mention politics.’

  Napoleon nodded and laughed. ‘And you, my dear Masséna, are thinking too much like a politician.’

  Massena shrugged. ‘No man is perfect, General.’

  ‘Money.’ Napoleon slapped his hand down on the table. ‘Money is what they want and that is what we shall give them. Once it starts to flow into their coffers then we shall receive what we need. Junot, first thing in the morning, I want you to send messages to all our agents in the north of Italy.They are to assess the fortunes of every city and town. They are to try to find out how much is held in coin and how much might be raised from loans. We shall, of course, negotiate the most favourable terms when the time comes. I’ve never known a sword at the throat of a banker fail to produce fair repayment terms.’

  The officers laughed, warming to the idea, and Napoleon continued.‘Send the messages in code and have them report back by the end of May.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Meanwhile, we’ll take Milan and give the men a brief rest. The Austrians aren’t going anywhere for now. We’ll march on them again once the men are fed and in good spirits. That’s enough business for tonight. Berthier will send you your orders at first light. Good night, gentlemen.’

  They rose from their chairs and filed out of the room. Napoleon sat and stared at the map. The Austrians had retreated yet again, but they were running out of space to retreat into. Some time, in the coming weeks or months, there would be a reckoning. When it came, it was vital that the Army of Italy was strong enough to face a hard battle and win.

  There was a knock on the door frame and Napoleon looked up to see Berthier holding a waterproofed document bag.

  ‘Dispatches and papers from Paris, sir. Will you read them now, or wait until morning?’

  ‘Now, please, Berthier.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ His chief of staff crossed to the table and unfastened the straps. Inside was a carefully wrapped bundle of newspapers, a sealed packet from the War Office and a letter addressed to him in Josephine’s hand. Napoleon warmed at the sight and he instinctively picked up the letter and ran his fingers gently over the writing. He smiled. It was typical of her to use her contacts to get a letter included in the official dispatch bag. For a moment he lingered over the letter, then set it aside and reached for the packet and broke the seal.

  There were two documents inside, one from Carnot at the War Office and the other from Barras on behalf of the Directory. He read Carnot’s letter first. The War Office was unable to send the requested reinforcements to the Army of Italy for the present, but assured General Bonaparte that he would be given priority the instant reinforcements were no longer needed on the Rhine. The letter concluded with an intelligence report revealing that Beaulieu was shortly to be joined by fifteen thousand fresh troops. Napoleon felt a cold rage flow through his veins. With fifteen thousand fresh men, he himself could sweep the enemy from Italy and chase them all the way back across the Tyrol to Vienna. He wondered, idly, who constituted the greater danger to his army. The Austrian forces, or the politicians back in Paris?

  He opened the letter from Barras, glanced over the usual official preambles and started reading the substance of the wishes of his political masters. When he got to the end he lowered the document on to the table, his hand trembling with anger.

  ‘Damn them,’ he muttered through clenched teeth. ‘Damn them all.’

  Berthier stood silently, waiting for his superior to elucidate on the contents of the letter. At length Napoleon looked up, his brow creased into a furious frown.

  ‘It seems that the Directory wants to split the command of the Army of Italy.’

  ‘Sir?’

  Napoleon stabbed a finger at the
text. ‘The Directory has ordered me to hand over half of the army to General Kellermann. I am not to continue the offensive. I am not to invade the Tyrol. I am not even permitted to occupy Milan. Those operations are to be carried out by Kellermann. Instead,’ he continued icily, ‘I am to take two divisions south to apply pressure to the papal states and the Kingdom of Naples to make peace with France. It seems that our leaders want to cut me down to size.’ He shook his head as he glanced at the letter again. ‘Apply pressure - what the hell does that mean? I think these politicians must mistake me for a fool.’

  There was a short silence before Berthier nervously cleared his throat. ‘Why is that, sir?’

  ‘The phrase is far too vague, don’t you agree? What kind of pressure am I supposed to apply? Diplomatic or military? If I apply the former and fail to secure an agreement then the Directors will say I should have used force. If I use force and fail, or if I antagonise other states in Italy, then they will say I was exceeding my orders and should have negotiated. So I must succeed or be damned. Of course, that’s assuming that I do decide to relinquish half my army to Kellermann.’ Napoleon looked up, eyes shifting rapidly as he examined the map on the table. His mind was racing.

  If the Army of Italy moved swiftly enough he could seize Milan and Pavia. Once those cities were in French hands Napoleon could begin to exact loans and ‘donations’ from the wealthier classes, and perhaps some of the neighbouring states and principalities. Why stop at money, he reflected. The lands of northern Italy were awash with art treasures. Once the Directory received this booty they would think twice about replacing the man who was feeding badly needed wealth into France’s empty treasury. He would gamble on that. Meanwhile he would also offer them a more reasoned and acceptable case for retaining him as the sole commander of the army.

  ‘Berthier, send me my secretary.’

  When Bourrienne had set out several sheets of paper and the inkwell and readied his pen, Napoleon began to dictate a reply to the Directors. He was careful to ensure that his tone was respectful and unemotional. It was essential that his arguments be seen as objective, well reasoned and in the vital interests of France. As the early hours dragged by Bourrienne scratched out the rough draft of the letter. Napoleon emphasised, as forcefully as he dared, that unity of command is the most important thing in war. While the Army of Italy was under one general it could be wielded in the most effective manner. He was careful not to disparage Kellermann, who still basked in the afterglow of being hailed as the saviour of the revolution following his victory at Valmy. Napoleon drew a deep breath as he dictated the concluding section.

  ‘General Kellermann will command the army as well as me, for no one is more convinced than I am that the victories are due to the courage and audacity of the men.’ He smiled at that touch: underscoring his modesty with praise for the revolutionary zeal of his men.Then he continued, ‘However, I consider that uniting Kellermann and myself in Italy will put all our gains at risk. I believe that one bad general is better than two good ones.’

  He nodded contentedly at this conclusion and looked over at Bourrienne. ‘There, that should do it. Draft a fine version and bring it here as soon as it’s done.’

  ‘Yes, General.’ Bourrienne snapped the lid of his inkwell closed and began to clean the nib of his pen on an old rag. ‘Do you want me to have a courier prepared to carry it to Paris?’

  Napoleon thought a moment and then shook his head. ‘No, we’ll wait a few days. I want the news of any booty that I have seized to arrive close on the heels of this.’

  ‘Very well, sir.’ Bourrienne tucked the papers under his arm, bowed his head and left Napoleon alone.

  For a long time he was still, staring at the map as his mind concentrated on the letter he had received from the Directory. It had come as a shock to him that the government was so insecure that it considered him a threat. Napoleon had been aware of some of the bad feeling directed towards him after the crushing of the royalist uprising, but had assumed that any jealousy of his acclaim could be countered by his own unswerving loyalty and good service. If this was how those in power in Paris treated successful generals, then perhaps Napoleon would be better off campaigning as far from the French capital as this war could take him.

  For now he would have to fight the politicians in Paris to retain his command of the Army of Italy, every bit as hard as he had to fight the Austrians. A knife in the back would finish him just as surely as a bullet in the chest. He sighed wearily. This was no way to wage war. But unless he learned to fight on both fronts he could not hope to win the renown and respect that he craved.

  The coming weeks were going to be more vital than ever. He must risk everything, even his life, to make the Directors believe that he was irreplaceable.

  Chapter 18

  Five days later the French army entered Milan.The people of the city thronged the streets to welcome the ragged soldiers who had come to liberate them from Austrian oppression. The aristocrats and the wealthy merchants and bankers were more circumspect in their greeting and Napoleon accepted their gifts and praise for what they were: attempts to bribe him and appeal to his vanity so that he would not subject Milan to the liberal values of the French revolution. Napoleon treated them courteously enough, before announcing his ambition to establish a democratic republic in Milan, allied to France. His proclamation was greeted by wild celebration that spilled out into the narrow streets of the poorer quarters of the city. Meanwhile, several battalions of infantry surrounded the small Austrian garrison that had been left behind to defend the citadel.The force, under the command of General Despinois, would not only contain the Austrians, but also ensure the loyalty of the Milanese.

  The celebrations in the city were short lived.While Napoleon plundered the local banks, his troops roamed the city, taking food, wine and women as they wished. As soon as he heard what was happening Napoleon issued stern orders to his officers to stop their men from looting the city. But it was already too late. Discipline had broken down and there was nothing that could be done until appetites had been sated.

  Napoleon waited impatiently for the men to return to their units and then, a week after the army had entered the city, it marched out to continue the war against Austria. But this time the streets were quiet as the Milanese cowered in their homes, waiting until the last sounds of marching boots had faded into the distance before they dared to emerge and stare in shock, and then bitter anger, at their ransacked city.

  Napoleon and his staff paused on a low hill a short distance from the city and watched as the men marched past, haversacks bulging with looted goods.

  ‘They’re in good spirits, sir,’ commented Berthier. ‘I just hope it lasts until they go up against the Austrians, once we catch up with them.’

  Napoleon glared at a passing column of infantry, sullenly acknowledging their cheerful greetings. ‘What concerns me is that if they conduct themselves in this fashion again, then we’ll be spending as much time putting down revolts in the lands we’ve taken from Austria as we do fighting the enemy.’

  Berthier shrugged. ‘I hope not, sir.’

  Napoleon turned to him with a bitter smile. ‘You hope not? I don’t think we can avoid it.There’s hardly a single Milanese, rich or poor, that we’ve not offended. Our men have had a free hand with the common folk, while I’ve thoroughly plundered the rich.’

  In the last few days Napoleon had demanded over ten million francs from the dukes of Parma and Modena, the money to be paid into banks in Genoa before being transferred to Paris. More cash was being squeezed from the kingdom of Piedmont and every city and town under French control.Very soon it would be flowing into the treasury in Paris. Napoleon fervently hoped that it would convince the Directors not to meddle any further with his command in Italy. The bitter truth was that while he might buy them off, he would now be forced to continue his advance with an outraged population at his back. Still, he reflected, the army was grateful to him, especially as some of the money he had exact
ed from the local rulers had been used to make good the arrears in their pay. In his growing awareness of the need to think politically, Napoleon realised that a loyal army was as good a power base as any mob in Paris.

  The army had only marched as far as Lodi when a message arrived from General Despinois. The people of Milan had risen up against the French occupiers. Despinois assured his commander that the uprising would be put down swiftly. But there was also more disturbing news of a further uprising in the town of Pavia.

  ‘Pavia?’ Napoleon stared at the courier, a young officer of hussars. ‘What’s happened in Pavia?’

  ‘Sir, the garrison there surrendered to the townspeople.’

  ‘Surrendered?’ Napoleon struggled to control his anger. ‘Was there a fight?’

  ‘Not as far as I know, sir. The commander, Captain Linois, agreed to lay down arms if he and his men were spared. They’re being held in the citadel.’

  ‘Are they, by God?’ Napoleon balled his hand into a fist and rapped it against his thigh. ‘Very well, Lieutenant. Return to General Despinois. Tell him that he has full authority to put down the revolt in Milan by any means necessary. Now go.’