by Griff Hosker
“What’s up sir?”
“The land around here is flat. If you look ahead you can see smoke. Is that a village? We need to approach carefully.”
We rode down lanes lined with hedges to deflect the icy wind which would have blown across this island in the winter. We rode down the track for a mile or so and then I heard the sound of Danish voices. We slipped behind the hedge and dismounted. I slipped a pistol from my holster and gently cocked it. We crouched behind our horses to disguise our uniforms. Thankfully the twenty men who marched down the road with their ancient muskets over their shoulders had their heads down as they tramped along the track. I recognised them as militia.
We waited until they had passed and then we mounted and rode along the field side of the hedge. It was some sort of grain crop which was unfortunate as it marked our passage as clearly as footsteps in the snow. It could not be helped. I did not want to risk being surprised by another band of militia. We could not return to Sir Arthur yet. He would not be best pleased with information about a mere twenty militia.
I then had an idea. “James, stop here.” I took off my Helmet and attached it by its chin strap to my cloak which was secured behind my saddle. “Take off your tunic.” I began to unbutton my tunic. Once done I slung it across the front of my saddle. With no helmet and just our shirts and breeches, we, too, looked like militia. We would not bear close scrutiny but, at a distance we might be taken for Danes.
We rode for another mile or so and drew closer to the fires. I could now see that it was a camp. There were not many tents but this was August and the nights were warm. I spied a barn and a farm building. We dismounted and led our horses to hide behind the huge building. Leaving James holding the reins of both horses I walked to the end of the building. The farm was to my left and before me was the camp. It was clearly the militia camp. I spied the artillery park. It was close to the front of the barn. In the distance I could see the horses of their cavalry and between the two were the infantry. There was some semblance of a uniform. They mainly wore hats rather than shakos but they all had a musket and many had a sword.
Suddenly two artillerymen approached. If I ran they would be suspicious. I pretended to examine the bottom of my boot as though I had stepped in something. I guessed that the Danish for ‘shit’ was similar to the German. I used the word as they neared and they both laughed. I had managed to use an approximation of the word. They walked along the front of the building and disappeared into the farmhouse.
I turned and walked back to James. “We can go back to Sir Arthur now. We have seen their army.”
As we mounted he asked, “How many men?”
“It looks to be about the same size as ours but it is hard to tell because it is spread out in an untidy fashion. And they are militia.”
We turned the horses and headed back the way we had come, “Does that make a difference?”
“Remember the Neapolitan militia?”
He nodded, “I see what you mean…”
He got no further as a dozen Danish cavalry suddenly appeared twenty paces from us. They looked to be regulars. They had come from our left and were obviously heading into camp. We were so close that they recognised us as cavalrymen and that we were not Danish. Their officer drew his sword and shouted at us. I drew my pistol and fired. Their horses were not gun trained and, when the officer fell, the other horses began rearing and jumping. I dug my spurs into my horse and we leapt down the lane. There was no question of riding across the fields. We would have to take our chances on the track.
Someone had organised the Danish cavalry and I saw them hurtling after us. We had a lead of some hundred yards. I decided we would head directly for our camp and not risk the circuitous route we had taken to reach the Danes. I heard bugles in the distance. The camp was being alerted. We could expect more pursuit but, so long as it was just these ten or eleven men and so long as we maintained our lead, I was confident we would escape.
Suddenly, as we turned a bend, I saw the militia who had walked by us an hour earlier. They were returning to camp. There was only one thing for it. “Draw your sword and charge!”
We had been cantering but, when I applied the spurs Jack leapt forwards. If we had been galloping towards regular infantry then we would have died. The officer shouted to his men to kneel and aim. In the time it took them to complete the action we had covered twenty yards and were almost upon them. I saw the fear on their faces as the two massive horses galloped towards them. I leaned forward and pointed my sword at the men. Even as the officer shouted, “Fire!” they all took to the hedgerows to avoid being trampled.
I slashed my sword at the officer but he jumped out of the way. I allowed James to get ahead of me and I looked under my arm. The militia were belatedly firing at us but, more importantly, they were blocking the lane and preventing pursuit by the cavalry. They followed us for another few miles but, as we were gradually increasing our lead they gave up and we were able to slow down and rest our horses.
James grinned at me. “That was jolly good fun sir!”
I began to dress again. I did not want a trigger happy sentry mistaking me for a Dane. “If they had fired first then we might not have got by them. Thank God they were militia.”
“What will Sir Arthur do now sir?”
“He has to deal with them. If they attack us while we are bombarding Copenhagen they have a chance of winning. It will merely delay the inevitable.”
It was late when we reached Sir Arthur’s headquarters. The man never seemed to need rest and he was busy writing a report. He seemed to write reports about everything.
He glanced up and took in our dishevelled appearance. He frowned, “I hope you have an explanation for your appearance gentlemen.”
I bit back the retort and said, instead, “Sir we have found the Danish camp and we were attacked as we escaped. I deemed it more important to bring you the news rather than changing sir.”
He nodded, seemingly satisfied with my explanation. “Well, where are they and how many are there?”
“They are about eighteen or twenty miles west of here sir. They are mainly militia but we saw at least one regular cavalry regiment. They have about thirteen or fourteen artillery pieces and there are between five and seven thousand of them, sir.” I paused, “We did not have time to count.”
He allowed the rare hint of a smile to form on his lips. “You have both done well. I shall overlook the uniforms. “Find the senior officers. I want them hear at six o’clock in the morning and warn the pickets that there is a Danish army close by. When you return, I shall have a message for Admiral Gambier.”
It was midnight when we were done with our duties. Jack was exhausted and we had not eaten all day. However the general seemed pleased with us. As we reported to him for one last time he nodded. “Well done for today. You have both surprised me.”
We saluted, “Just doing our duty, sir.”
He seemed to look at us for the first time. “Isn’t that an Austrian sword?”
“Yes sir, I acquired it in the Low Countries.”
He frowned, “Weren’t the Austrians on our side then?”
“Yes sir but the sword wasn’t it was wielded by a Chasseur.”
“Ah, the spoils of war. Why did you not acquire a better one?”
“Lieutenant Jackson and I were awarded fine swords for our rescue of the civilians from the Pas de Calais but this is a good sword sir. I prefer it.”
“Ah so you were the chaps who helped to rescue the civilians. That was a fine show but I don’t approve of all this cloak and dagger shenanigans.”
“Sometimes sir shenanigans are the only way to get results.”
“Hmn, I suppose you are right. Better get off to bed. I will need you two tomorrow. Do not be late and make sure you have a smart uniform!”
Both Wellesley and Bonaparte shared the ability to do without sleep. Physically they could not have been more different and in their attitudes too but there were so many similarities that
it was frightening.
The Battle of Køge, as it became known, was a messy little battle. Sir Arthur left the guns bombarding the town while he took the rest to deal with the militia. The cavalry did the job we had done in Calabria. They found the enemy. The camp had moved for another force had joined it and they were just twenty miles away at Køge.
The Hanoverian who returned to tell his lordship where the enemy had been found did not speak English. I wondered if it was a mistake or a ploy by the Colonel. Sir Arthur looked angry and then I translated. After the lieutenant had gone he said, “A man of many surprises captain. Thank you. I would suggest you stay close to me in case that fool of a colonel sends another messenger who does not speak English.”
The army moved south. Now that we knew where they were it was no important to move quickly. The cavalry would be able to pin them in place while the ponderous infantry manoeuvred into position. We found the enemy close to the coastal town of Køge. The Danes had dug in. The sea protected one flank while the cavalry guarded the other. The infantry was drawn up in between them. Their artillery was spread out across their front. It was obvious that they outnumbered us but Sir Arthur appeared to be quite confident.
He turned to James and me. “I would like to see all the commanders now. I will give them their instructions for the battle tomorrow.”
Everyone who attended spoke English and I was not needed to translate. The plan was quite simple. The cavalry would threaten their horse and, hopefully make them either flee or charge. When the cavalry were out of the way then the cavalry would threaten the infantry. Sir Arthur hoped that the Danes would move their artillery to counter the threat and, when they did so, and then the infantry would close with them and give them five rapid volleys. I had seen the effect of British volleys at Maida. The Danish militia would stand no chance.
We breakfasted before dawn and we waited with Sir Arthur as the regiments and battalions took up their positions. The Danish waited and, if it is possible for an army to be nervous then the Danes appeared to be nervous. There was much movement. Riders rode from one flank to the other and from the back to the front. Regiments changed positions while the British and Hanoverians waited.
The Danish artillery opened fire. Their balls did little damage as they had been fired one by one. There appeared to be little coordination. Sir Arthur gave the signal and the King’s German Legion moved towards the Danish left flank. Their cavalry made as though they were going to charge but when the Hanoverians formed into line they fled. Even before the King’s German Legion had begun to move towards the Danes the Danish commander had begun to shift half of his cannon from the centre to the left flank. One had to admire Sir Arthur. His plan was working perfectly. It was as though the Danes were doing what Sir Arthur wanted. The regiments on the left of the Danish line echeloned back and their centre became proportionately weaker. I saw the ghost of a smile play upon the peer’s lips. He could launch the infantry soon and punch a hole in the middle of the Danish line.
The Hanoverian cavalry moved forwards towards the Danes. The Danish guns opened up and this time they fired together. I saw some riders and horses struck. To my horror I heard the bugle sound charge and the first four squadrons began to charge the cannon. They were half a mile away from the Danes and would take many casualties during their approach.
“Damned fool! Captain Matthews ride to those Germans and tell them to get back into position. I cannot afford to lose a single horseman!”
I kicked Jack and we sped across the front of the British lines. I heard a cheer as we galloped towards the Hanoverians who were now enduring the musket fire of the Danes as well as their cannons. I rode obliquely across the front of the infantry to try to cut off the Hanoverians. Some of the Danes tried to hit me but as they did it individually I was never in any danger.
I watched as the first squadrons began to retreat having been badly handled by the Danes. There were mercifully few bodies on the field. I veered to my right and headed for their colonel who was busy preparing his next charge. I reined in next to him and said, in English, “The General orders you back into position.”
The colonel feigned ignorance of English even though I knew he spoke it perfectly well. He grinned as he shrugged. I repeated the order in German and his face turned to a snarl. “Colonel, you will be court-martialled if you refuse. I beg of you to withdraw your men back to their allotted position. The infantry are about to begin their attack.”
There was a pause and then he nodded and ordered his men back. They all turned around. I had just started to wheel Jack around when I heard the crack of the Danish cannon. Suddenly Jack was struck and it felt as though someone had smashed my leg with a sledgehammer. The air was filled with dust and I seemed to fly through the air. I saw the blue sky and then all went black.
Chapter 21
When I opened my eyes I was in a tent and there were strange faces peering at me. I found hearing difficult. I could see the man above was speaking to me for his lips were moving but I could not make out any of the words he was saying. I tried to rise but the effort was too much and all went black again.
When I finally came to I heard noises before I opened my eyes. I was not deaf. I could hear voices. “He is lucky to be alive, Sir Arthur. If the horse had not taken the cannonballs and the muskets then he would be dead. As it is his right leg has been damaged and his hearing seems damaged. This officer’s career may well be over.”
“Dammit Doctor, he is a dammed brave fellow you have to do something.”
I opened my eyes and tried to speak. All that came out was a cough. I saw Sir Arthur and the doctor above me. I tried again. “I can hear sir.”
They both smiled. The doctor knelt over me and held a lamp before my eyes, “Remarkable. An hour ago I was getting ready to bury you.”
I looked up at Sir Arthur, “The battle sir, how did…”
“Oh we won, of course. We barely lost a man. The Danes just ran. I sent those damned fool Germans after them. It looks like this little war is over and we can all get back to England. Well done, my boy.” He patted my hand and turned around. It seemed a little perfunctory to me but I learned that it was his way.
After he had gone I asked, “My leg, what is the problem. I won’t lose it will I?”
He smiled, “Oh no, well at least I don’t think so. The cannon ball went through your horse and it cracked your knee. I don’t think anything is broken and, even if it was, there’s nothing I can do but you won’t lose the leg. Whether you can use it is another matter. You rest now and we’ll get you aboard the transport in the morning.”
I lay back and closed my eyes. Was my career over? I was thirty years old and I thought I had a future in the army ahead of me. I thought of all the battles I had fought in. This one was nothing. It was an army of farmers with ancient weapons and it looked like I was one of the few casualties. I felt angry because there was nothing that I could do about any of this.
I felt a presence in the room. It was James. He looked relieved when I opened my eyes. “Oh sir! I was really worried. When they brought you from the field you were covered in blood. It wasn’t till later I found out it was Jack’s blood.”
It was only then I realised that the fine hunter had been killed. I had had two horses die under me. I was gladder than ever that I had not brought Badger. If it had been him who had died I do not think I could have borne it.
“What happened to him?”
He looked appalled. “I am sorry sir. I was so worried about you that I …”
He looked almost ready to cry. “Don’t worry James. It was a silly question.”
“We are going home tomorrow sir. The General says we have done our job.”
“Copenhagen?”
“They used those Congreve rockets, sir and the city just burned and burned; they surrendered. The war is over.”
I was carried on a stretcher and then by wagon to the beach where there were rowing boats waiting to take us to the ship. I was carried, like a b
aby to the boat and then rowed, along with James to the Indiaman. When we reached the side they had a bosun’s chair waiting to lift me up the side.
I shook my head, “I am not a piece of cargo! You can take the damned horses that way but not me. I shall enter by the tumblehome.”
James grabbed my arm as I tried to rise, “But sir! Your leg!”
“I have one good leg. If necessary I will hop up the bloody ladder.”
I put all the weight on my right leg and held the rungs of the ladder. As the blood rushed down to my left foot I felt an excruciating pain shoot to my knee. I felt like sitting down again but I had said I would do this and I had to. I pulled on the ladder and hopped my right leg on to the first rung. I hopped up six of the rungs and then I slipped on one which had some weed on it. I just reacted and put my left leg down to save myself. I heard a gasp from James and then felt such pain as I had never felt before. I closed my eyes and held on for dear life. Miraculously the leg held. I began to climb up but I put as little weight on my left leg as possible.
When I reached the tumblehome I fell forward on to the deck. Two sailors grabbed me. One said, “You are a game ‘un captain and no mistake. Now stop acting the hero and let us carry you to your cabin eh sir?”
I nodded and gave a weak smile, “I think you are right.”
As I was carried to the cabin I would use for the voyage home I found myself smiling. I could use my right leg. It might hurt but I could walk and I would ride again. I was still a Captain of Light Dragoons and my war had not ended just yet.
The End