But the tide had turned. The Prussians had shot their bolt, and the Saxon horse had made mincemeat of several of the bluecoat formations. The latter held their ground only because they were too exhausted to retire, and could advance no farther. Austrian guns were playing with great effect, and Ziethen had been knocked cold by a spent shell, leaving his men in confusion.29 The old hussar was taken to an aide station by a cornet of Krockow’s unit. This individual, named de Berge, even had to save Ziethen from falling from his collapsing horse. No doubt, he saved Ziethen’s life.30 The rumor flew round that Ziethen had been killed. While he suffered a graze to his temple, his horse was killed by a fresh blast of fire. The end of the battle found him in Prince Moritz’s coach, effectively knocked dingy from it all.
Meanwhile, Bevern, who should have attacked much earlier, was standing by. At 1700 hours, the king gave orders to a dispatch rider to go to Bevern and direct him to launch a coordinated attack with Pennavaire. Unfortunately, the rider was shot down, and the prince was never made aware of the intended movement until it was too late. Pennavaire, as we have observed, then went forward into the attack with no back-up.
At about 1900 hours, the bluecoats finally launched their last attack of the day. Bevern moved his battalions—the last remaining Prussian reserve—up the rise against the Austrian works at Bristwai, and a strong, determined effort led by Bevern in person helped decimate the Austrian positions on Krzeczhorz Hill. The Prussian attack, backed up by the remnants of Pennavaire’s command, finally turned the enemy out of much of their front. The Austrians tried to react. Recall of the formations pursuing Pennavaire’s scattering cavalry, allowed the Austrian horse to be pressed into conflict with Bevern. The situation was critical. The Austrians, their backs to the wall, tried to shore up their wavering line.
The 12th Infantry of Bota—Sincère’s last organized body—was led by Colonel Prince von Kinsky to a new line facing the western side of the surging bluecoats. This unit had just repulsed Seydlitz’s last attack with the cold tips of their bayonets. Andlau sent the 2nd Infantry (Erzerhog Karl) and the grenadiers to form on either side of Bota. The Prussian attack, composed of the 25th, 35th, 21st, 41st, 3rd, 40th, and the 7th Cuirassiers, turned back the reformed Austrian line on the ridge to the south of Chotzenitz. For a time, there was a heavy firefight. The bluecoats bundled forward, and their thrust forced back Salm-Salm.31 The neighboring units of the 4th Infantry of Deutschmeister and Baden-Baden, in the midst of all of this, could stand no more. Their formations disintegrated into a milling mass of men. The Bota Regiment alone stood in the way. Lt.-Gen. Zakhar Gregorevitch Cherneyshev, later in the war to gain fame, gathered up nearby cavalry units and pressed them into the path of the surging Prussians. The general also ordered the artillery to switch to case-shot, which could inflict much more damage to the enemy at short range.
The 7th Infantry (Bevern’s own unit) attacked an enemy battery that had been shelling it for quite some time. The duke’s whole command fought forward. But the 7th overran its support, and was hit by a timely counterattack led by Charles de Ligne’s horse in the rear. It was virtually annihilated, losing 1,034 men of all ranks.32
Shortly after, with the sun dipping low, Marshal Daun, fearful he might be compelled towards the Elbe and Kolin through the swampy country, scribbled instructions. These were for a general withdrawal southward in the direction of Kuttenberg on Suchdol. He felt this move, by then unnecessary, would be preferable to a forced retreat. The directions Daun handed to an aide-de-camp, who was ordered to ride over the field and inform the Austrian commanders.
On the right, the Austrian batteries were already being unlimbered and sent to the rear, to the relief of old Hülsen no doubt. The marshal was starting to retire, and the elusive victory, in spite of the many and repeated blunders of the Prussians, appeared to be within their grasp. Only a body of Saxon cavalry, under Major-General Georg Ludwig Graf von Nostitz, then stood intact and ready to fight. Daun’s aide searched in vain to find that general. He discovered Benkendorf and gave him the order. The latter promised to deliver the order to Nostitz. Benkendorf looked at the directive (not by accident we can surmise), and decided to take matters into his own hands. Finding General Nostitz and handing him the order, Benkendorf apparently convinced the general it was not yet too late to save the situation. Nostitz promptly ordered him to form a mixed command, of both infantry and cavalry, to charge Hülsen’s exhausted troops.
Taking the six regiments of de Ligne at the lead and then drawing up the remnants of Wied up behind, Benkendorf went galloping down the rises at the Prussian left from the Eichenbusch. Count de Thiennes, leading the 31st Dragoons, was taken to task by Daun, who tartly informed him his young troopers were just “beardless boys.”33 It turned out those same “boys” would lead the decisive cavalry stroke, a charge in which more than 80 brave Austrian and Saxon squadrons participated.34
Hülsen could not long resist the fury of this attack; his horse was put to flight almost at once, and, in their confused retreat, helped to disorder the infantry units still behind them. The infantry was trying to form square, and for a few harrowing minutes, the Prussians looked like they might fly. Rallied by their officers, they inflicted heavy losses among the attackers. But the net result was that Hülsen was finally forced back, losing his hard-won gains. This precipitated the retirement of the entire Prussian army.35
Heavy pressure was exerted on Moritz’s 22nd and on the 15th Infantry by the revitalized Austrian line. The 22nd in particular suffered very savage losses. Austrian artillery fire riddled the men, from the batteries between Brzezan and Chotzemitz. The enemy cavalry finally forced the valiant unit to retreat. Twenty-six officers and 1,165 men were killed or wounded in the battle.36 The 15th, 1st Guard Battalion, commanded by Major-General Johann Ludwigg von Ingersleben,37 attacked in the second battle wave, and throughout had displayed a ferocious attitude. Now, as Moritz’s command wavered and fell back, the battalion, led in person by Colonel Bogislav Friedrich von Tauentzein, bundled forward. Being at the rear of Bevern’s force, the men were savaged by the mass of Austrian dragoons opposite. Tauentzein’s daring paid off, but only for a moment.
There were no reserves, and the aforementioned counterattack surrounded this lone unit. It was surrounded three times by the milling enemy mass. But, when all was said and done, Tauentzein still took his unit off the field with music playing. The cost? Left behind were 473 men and 24 officers, and only 300 men marched with Tauentzein.38
As for the king, with the battle slipping away, he gathered a small command (about 40 men strong), and led them against a certain enemy battery. Drawing near upon it, though, the unsteady men gradually dispersed until at last only Frederick and an adjutant, Major von Grant, were left. His companion asked the very pragmatic question: “Will His Majesty capture the battery by himself?”39 Now the disappointed monarch took one more look at the enemy, and rode off to find Prince Moritz and Bevern. Frederick gave the pair charge of the retreat, then rode off with his special escort, 30 hussars and a force of the “Garde-de-Corps,” back, by roundabout means, towards the siege lines around Prague.
Bevern and Prince Moritz were instructed to fall back on Planian and the vicinity thereabouts. From there, the retreat was to be made for Nimburg. The designated rallying point was on the opposite bank of the Elbe. For the first time in the king’s career, he would have to deal with the consequences of defeat, and he was much more willing to appoint some subordinates to do the job of withdrawing from the lost contest. Bevern unbuckled the 40th Infantry of Kreytzen to Nimburg about 1800 hours to keep the Prussian line-of-retreat open. This unit was attacked by the now riled up Austrian cavalry about 1730 hours. Only after a most desperate struggle could Kreytzen extricate his men. The 3rd Infantry withdrew on Planian to screen the retreat. These units were the freshest of the Prussian formations. On the field, the firing gradually ceased, and, by 2000 hours, the Battle of Kolin was over.
Chapter Ten
Siege of P
rague Lifted; Prussians Retire from Bohemia
Daun’s army was likewise exhausted, but not so much as the king’s. Still, it is curious that Nádasti received no orders to launch a general pursuit of the defeated enemy. Now, General Stampatch, at Hradenin, was ordered to drive Manstein’s remnants off. He had five full regiments ready for action, enough to really mess up the bluecoats. Yet Stampatch did not budge, for reasons that have never been satisfactorily explained. The Gemmingen Grenadiers, part of Manstein’s force, actually held off the really feeble effort that Stampatch did launch finally. Pennaivaire and Schönaich’s commands clung to positions on the battlefield. Part of Tresckow’s men remained, and the 10th Infantry (Major-General Gottlob Ernst von Pannewitz) was screening the field. Once again, a struggle developed while Bevern, commander of all these scattered forces, was absent conferring with the king.
Upon returning, Bevern found a new fight breaking forth. But this struggle went nowhere, and there was simply no sustained pursuit. Even Seydlitz was still lingering about, and none of the remaining Prussian forces were in a hurry. Daun, hearing word of such reluctance and even resistance even after so complete a victory, did not send out pursuit orders. Some of the bluecoat units were very exposed. Ziethen’s horse stayed near Krzeczhorz until well past 2100 hours. This body of cavalry was loath to go.
Had Bevern’s attack been made earlier, the issue of the day may have turned out differently. However, there were other factors in the defeat. Once more, as at Mollwitz, the vaunted Prussian horse had let its king down. Except for the efforts of Krosigk and the then Colonel Seydlitz, it did little of praiseworthiness on the day of Kolin.1 And, yes, this included the very agitated men of Ziethen’s command.
The cavalry of Ziethen did, however, continue to function. Von Seelen had a party (about 100 riders) at the Pascopal, in company with Kleists’s grenadiers. They were set upon by Laudon at Disnova. Laudon’s intended purpose was to seize this place, a critical Prussian post. Kleist’s infantry was soon surrounded and hard-pressed until Major Seelen rode Colonel Laudon’s surging formations down from behind. After a short, but spirited altercation, Laudon withdrew his stunned men. There was obviously still fight left in the Prussian army.
To those who would believe Kolin was a rout, it is worth noting that the bluecoats managed to extricate themselves from the fight and then move off with negligible interference from the enemy. As for the king, he spent the night following the debâcle at Nimburg. He was in the depths of dejection. Archenholtz relates he could do little more in the immediate aftermath of Kolin than to stare at the night “describing circles with his stick [on the ground].”2 A famous rendering by Adolf Menzel shows Frederick in the depths of melancholic dejection following the disaster.3
The Austrians spent the night of June 18–19 under arms, preparing for a renewal of the contest if necessary. But when morning came, the Prussians had vanished from the area, no doubt to the relief of Marshal Daun. The Austrian commander ordered his army to march back to the camp it had held before the battle. Scouts informed him that the Prussian baggage train had bogged down in difficult ground near the defile by Planian-Kaurzim, and had only a light escort with it. Ripe for the taking, but the marshal declined to act; this was a wasted opportunity for the victors.
The losses of the Austrians, at best approximations, are held to have been 8,150, including 1,500 prisoners. The breakdown was 46 officers and 956 men killed, and 296 officers and 5,176 men wounded.4
As for the Prussians, they lost 6,710 killed/wounded, 5,380 prisoners, plus over 1,600 missing. A total of 13,768 from all causes. Fifty-four guns (15 24-pounders and 24 12-pounders) were lost, 22 battle flags, and much soldier equipment. Frederick, in writing to the Earl Marschal, frankly pointed out the obvious fatal flaw in his scheme: “My infantry were too few.”5 But, for public benefit and posterity, he blamed both Prince Moritz and Manstein. Moritz simply could not follow instructions on where to attack, and Manstein had launched an attack where none was required.
The king’s explanation of the battle’s conclusion was: “the enemy, noticing this disorder [apparently Pennavaire’s attack and] … profiting by this momentary bewilderment, rendered the confusion general.”6 The king is, not surprisingly, silent on his rôle in spreading this confusion. And, whatever else he might have written, the salient fact remains Frederick allowed the attacks of Manstein and Moritz to continue when it was obvious the Prussian inferiority in numbers was bound to be crippling in a head-on assault.
Vienna received the news of Kolin with much greater joy. Maria Theresa issued an extra months’ pay for the victors,7 and instituted the Order of Maria Theresa to honor those worthy of extra commendation. The whitecoats were aware that Kolin had shattered the myth of Prussian invincibility for good. Not to mention saving the shut-ins at Prague, and probably the Austrian monarchy in the process.
From more retrospective views, Frederick indicated the defeat was the result of launching the infantry assault over ground where they could not be adequately covered by the Prussian cavalry. And the artillery, which played such a key rôle at the Battle of Prague, could not be employed with similar effect at Kolin. All of this in addition to the known inferiority of numbers, and we can begin to see more clearly what went wrong for the bluecoats.8
Frederick, meanwhile, got back on his way to Prague. At Kleine-Michele, June 19, the king faced Prince Henry (who had missed Kolin) in his depressed mood. Frederick informed the prince that Moritz and others would have to look to him for orders, because he himself was incapable of command at the moment. But the journey into the siege-lines wrapped up later in the day. When the Prussian monarch reached the siege posts, most of the work of dismantling them was already in progress or completed. After dark, the army was formed and, about 0300 hours on June 20, Frederick was underway from the Žižkaberg; Bevern and Moritz, taking off the survivors of Kolin, were already at Nimburg.
The main army’s line-of-march carried it to Bohemia-Bunzlau, through Alt-Lissa, on to Nimburg to pick up the men from Kolin. From there, the king could think of no better post than Leitmeritz. The reasons seem obvious. In a few hours, he appears to have regained his senses. He wanted to get his shaken men out of the enemy’s grasp as quickly as possible, by maintaining contact between the two bodies of men. Laudon had made his best efforts to impede Keith’s retreat, but the success had been limited.
Meanwhile, the Prussians who had gathered about Nimburg started in the direction of Alt-Lissa. The king reached that place on June 21, with no sign of a sustained Austrian pursuit. Two days after, he sent most of his cavalry to support Keith. On June 24, Prince Moritz (whom Frederick had often referred to as a colorless, boring man) and Bevern finally appeared. Their arrival was a great relief. Scouts said the enemy were still mounting no pursuit, and Frederick’s confidence was returning by the hour. Actually, what was happening was procrastination in the Austrian high command.
On June 25, the king (accompanied by Prince Henry) set out for Leitmeritz, leaving Moritz in command at Alt-Lissa. Or, rather, Frederick accompanied Prince Henry. “He,” the he being the king, “was too well pleased with the Prince’s work to interfere with it.”9 Marshal Keith, by then, was very nearly into Leitmeritz, with no enemy now hindering his rearguard either. On June 27, the king reached Leitmeritz, to find Keith greatly frazzled but unhurt.
On that day, the Prussians lost another general. Colonel Laudon, after a short break, was back in force. Laudon’s riders came upon a group of hospital wagons at Töplitz (on the road to Leitmeritz). They fell upon the guards, scattering the escort. Then the riled up Austrian horsemen shouted to the wounded General Manstein, the highest ranking officer there, to surrender. Manstein’s abrupt reply was to the effect of “Never!” He reached for a musket, but he was shot dead by an enemy trooper.10 There would be many more Prussian generals lost in this long war.
On June 28, the Frederick-Keith force united their forces by the bridge at Leitmeritz, while a small force was left on a rise oppos
ite the place. Laudon, who was making his presence felt now, was attacked by roving Prussian bands, new reinforcements sent to help Keith’s rearguard. The stronger enemy force finally forced Laudon back. The king was counting on the enemy’s main force to be slow about advancing, and he was not to be disappointed in this respect. With an industrious, quick-witted foe, much of the Prussian efforts to recover from Kolin would not have happened.
Daun kept to his old camp until June 22, celebrating and receiving complimentary notes from many quarters on his army’s victory. Not until June 26 were the Austrian advanced patrols finally united, at Podschernitz. By June 29, Nádasti’s men, again functioning as the advanced guard, probed as far as Benatek. Moreover, for all practical purposes, Daun’s men and the army of Prince Charles would remain separate entities until June 30. At this juncture, the Austrians occupied a line from Mochow, extending to Brandeis; with headquarters at Czelakowitz, holding a front of more than 81⁄2 miles.
Prince Moritz, meanwhile, had moved to Stranov, some 11 miles southwest of Jung-Bunzlau. From here, Moritz’s rather dour nature struck yet again. He sent a rider to the king asking if he should retire to Zittau. He had apparently assumed the general Prussian plan was a retreat into Saxony. This was not the royal intention at all. The king expected to remain in Bohemia pending further developments. This had been the reason for sending Prince Moritz in the direction and manner he did in the first place. Almost immediately, intelligence arrived that General Beck was in the offing with 3,000 Croats. Moritz drew his lines up, and Beck occupied Jung-Bunzlau on June 29. He was quick enough to nab 33 Prussians, but the prince himself got away.
Frederick the Great and the Seven Years' War Page 19