Waterloo (Napoleonic Horseman Book 6)

by Griff Hosker

  Prince William had obviously not listened to the Duke for he rode straight up to Baron Von Merlen. As he turned he pointed to the ground to the east of Gemincourt. I saw the 6th Chasseurs as they launched another attack. It could easily be defeated by the infantry but, to my horror I saw the 6th Dutch Hussars and the 5th Belgian Light Dragoons ordered forward. I could see that the horses were lathered and exhausted but their colonels led them forward in a ragged charge. Even though the Chasseurs were charging uphill they had fresh horses and they were riding knee to knee; a fatal combination. The Dutch-Belgian Brigade foundered against the Chasseurs. It was boys against men. It was novices against veterans. It could only end one way.

  “Sharp, follow me!”

  I saw, as we rode, the 92nd in line. They were our only hope. The Scotsmen were solid and dependable. I saw Sir John Cameron as we galloped by. Halting I said, “Sir John, we made need your assistance by and by. The Dutch cavalry is in some trouble.”

  "Aye laddie, I can see. Ready the 92nd!" He waved his sword and I saw the regiment as they moved down the slope. The Dutch and Belgians were being badly handled by the Chasseurs. The 6th were a fine regiment and they knew their business. I put the reins in my teeth. I would need both hands. I drew my sword and a pistol. I was riding my horse using my knees now. I saw the Colonel of the 6th Dutch as he was struck by a sword. He retained his balance. I shouted, “Fall back to the ridge!”

  I saw Colonel Boreel as he shouted something to his bugler and the retreat was sounded. Sharp and I did not slow down and we ploughed into some Chasseurs. We had the slope on our side and fresh horses. We knocked aside some Chasseurs and I fired at an officer. I was rewarded by the sight of him plunging to the ground. I holstered my gun and, as I drew a second, guided my horse to the Colonel who, along with his bugler, was fighting off four Chasseurs. My pistol and Sharp’s sounded at the same time. The smoke obscured the results but I slashed down at the Chasseur who had been before me. The Austrian sabre hacked into the left side of the horseman. I felt it bite into flesh. I saw the Colonel to my left and I fired my pistol blindly ahead. I sensed, rather than saw the sword which sliced down at me and I barely deflected it. My momentum saved me for Pierre barged into my opponent’s horse. He struggled to control it and I stabbed him in the stomach before he could recover.

  “Sir! Fall back!”

  Sharp’s urgent call made me holster my pistol, grab my reins and whip my horse’s head around. I headed for the kilted red line ahead. The Scotsmen parted to let us through and then a double volley ripped and tore French Chasseurs from their saddles.

  As we made the Namur road I looked and saw that the crossroads had been overrun. Major Philippe Von Normann was fighting for his life. On the left the Dutch were broken and were streaming back through Picton’s veterans. Sir Thomas himself was aiding Prince Bernard on the right flank as they tried to stem the attack through the Bois de Bossu.

  I thought, at that moment, that the battle was lost. Major Von Normann was engaged in hand to hand fighting at the crossroads. The French cavalry was threatening the Namur road and the Crown Prince and Sir Thomas Picton were falling back through the woods. I saw the Duke close by the crossroads. Alarmingly, he was alone. Sharp and I galloped to his side.

  “By God, Matthews but Bonaparte has humbugged me. Damned if he hasn’t got me.”

  Just then I saw the Hanoverians and the Guards as they appeared on the other side of Quatre Bras. Marching alongside them there were the black uniformed soldiers of Brunswick. They were raw but they hated Bonaparte. I glimpsed a glimmer of hope. The French artillery had been brought forward and was doing terrible damage to the Brunswick troops who were trying to deploy. A Hanoverian battery unlimbered and began to lob shells at the French. Many would have said it was like spitting in the wind but, amazingly their proximity to the French and their courage meant that they began to turn the tide. Using canister the French cavalry were cut down like the rye through which they rode. It was ferocious and uncompromising. Every soldier was fighting for his life. The French sensed victory and they were pushing home their advantage. Slender Billy had handed the battle to Ney!

  The Brunswick cavalry formed on the ridge and prepared to charge the advancing French cavalry. French artillery scythed through them and gave their own cavalry hope. The Chasseurs and lancers charged the 5th Division. If this had not been commanded by Sir Thomas Picton and filled with Spanish veterans things might have gone awry. The bayonets bristled and the muskets rippled. I was with Sharp, close by Sir Thomas. I saw him wince. A spent cannonball had struck him. I rode next to him. “Just winded." He smiled. "Don't worry Matthews, we’ll hold the buggers!”

  It was then that I saw the Duke of Brunswick fall. He just plunged from his horse and the charismatic and popular leader died. It speaks well of his men that they renewed their attack with added vigour. He fell by the side of the road to Brussels. A road we were in danger of losing. I wished that it had been Crown Prince William.

  Suddenly a regiment of French Dragoons appeared. The infantry who had marched in line down past the woods, echeloned one flank and then fired. Although only a few of the dragoons were killed they all veered off and headed aimlessly along the ridge where the 95th took pot shots at them as they passed. Had they continued their attack then the Duke himself might have been lost. I heard a cheer from behind Quatre Bras. I later learned that it was General Alten with the 3rd Division. Their appearance made the French halt and they began to readjust their lines. It was a mistake for the Hanoverians chose that moment to launch an attack at Piraumont. They drove the defenders from the village and our left flank was more secure. The King's German Legion were tenacious fighters and they would hold that flank for us. Of that I had no doubt. I had fought with them through Portugal and Spain. There were no finer troops to have on your side.

  The Duke said, “Matthews, ride to the edge of the wood. The damned smoke makes it hard to see anything. Tell me what you can see.”

  “Sir.”

  Sharp and I rode from the crossroads passing the 92nd which was waiting along the road to Nivelles. The farm, La Bergerie, was still held by the Dutch but I could see that the French infantry had begun to close to within a few yards of it. It was a whole regiment and it looked to me to be unscathed.

  “Sharp, ride and tell the General he needs to send troops. The farm is about to be taken.”

  I joined the flank company of the 92nd. One of the Sergeants was chewing some rye. “It’s a wee bit hot today sir.”

  “Aye it is Sergeant but I fear it will get hotter soon.”

  “You mean yon Frenchmen? We’ll soon have them running back to Paris just as soon as Old Nosey lets us loose, eh lads?” The rest of the light infantry company began to whoop and cheer.

  Colonel Cameron led his regiment from the ditch and on to the road. As they began to advance the French skirmishers began to fire at them. The colonel was hit almost immediately as was the ensign carrying the colours. Rather than deterring the Scotsmen it acted a as spur and they marched resolutely towards the French. Although taking terrible losses they advanced. I was desperate to aid them but knew that my puny pistols could do little to help them.

  They reached the edge of the farm, dressed ranks and then gave two volleys. They had taken many losses but the attack drove the French from the building. However as soon as the French withdrew French cannon positioned at Gemincourt began to scythe them down. Wellington appeared at my shoulder, “Matthews, go and tell those fellows to head into the woods and withdraw to the Nivelles Road. They have done their duty.”

  I nudged Pierre forward. Sharp was about to join me but I shook my head. “Stay here, the General may have more orders.”

  I kicked at Pierre’s flanks and we left the safety of the crossroads to brave the maelstrom that lay in wait. Ball and shot zipped all around us but we seemed to bear a charmed life. I passed the dead and wounded Highlanders. They would have to wait for darkness for succour. When I reached the farm I saw the carna
ge of the victory. “Who commands here?”

  “I do sir, Captain Peter Wilkie.”

  “You have done well, Captain. Extract your men.” I pointed to the rear of the farm. If you take them out of the back then you should have cover enough. Head for the woods and then make your way back to the Nivelles road.”

  “Sir.”

  I was about to leave when I saw the sergeant of the light company, His leg had been hit and I saw a reddened bandage around it.

  “I told you it would get hot sir.”

  “Can you walk, sergeant?”

  “I dinna think so. I’ll just wait here for Johnny Frenchmen. I ken I might get a few.”

  I saw his company looking at me as the Captain ordered them out. “You lads help him up onto the back of my horse. I’ll take him to the crossroads.”

  The delight on their faces was contrasted with the protests from the sergeant. “No sir, we’ll be too heavy for your wee horsie.”

  I laughed. “Get on, man!” Once on the back his huge hands gripped my waist. Like most infantry he feared horses. “Don’t worry sergeant, Pierre is a good horse. He will make it.”

  I heard the outrage in his voice, “You mean you have a bloody French horse!”

  "It is all right Sergeant, he likes Scotsmen."

  It was harder going back. We were heading up the slope, Pierre was carrying double and we were the only target for the French. When my hat was taken from my head by a musket ball I wondered if our time had come but we manage to make the crossroads safely. Sharp trotted over to us and he helped the sergeant to the ground.

  “Thank you sir. You have saved my life.”

  I pointed to the wagon which was loading with wounded men. “Sharp help him on to the wagon.”

  The Duke lowered his telescope. “You are a strange fellow Matthews. Did you know the sergeant?” I shook my head. “Extraordinary; you risk your life for a total stranger.”

  "No sir, no man who fights in the same army as I do is a stranger. He is just a friend I haven't met yet."

  There was little respite. I dismounted and found a bucket of water to give to Pierre. While he drank I looked at my watch. It was four thirty. We had been fighting since early in the morning and the battle showed no signs of ending soon. We still had over four hours of daylight left. It seemed unlikely that we would hold. We had only retaken La Bergerie at the cost of a whole battalion.

  As I remounted I looked to the east and saw that the 42nd and the 28th had been attacked by lancers. They had barely formed square and the lancers were having their own way. Soldiers were being pierced by the long weapons and they had to endure it. The two regiments fought off the attack and the remnants of the lancers made their way south. We had held but it had been at a terrible cost. The two regiments were barely a battalion strong.

  Then the last of the 3rd Division arrived. The Hanoverians were sent towards Namur to reinforce the men there while the British regiments were sent down to the road towards Gemincourt.

  As I mounted Pierre I began to feel that we might win. The thought was dashed from me when I saw Kellerman and his cuirassiers begin to line up. My heart sank. The armoured horsemen were even heavier than the Scots Greys. Your only chance was to hit them at point blank range with as many musket balls as possible. They had a steel helmet and breastplate and they were good. We had little cavalry to oppose them, just six squadrons from the already battered Brunswick Hussars. We needed more cavalry for the seven hundred cuirassiers were dressing their lines. They were going to attack. It would be a slaughter.

  The British regiments who had just arrived were hot and they were tired but they had yet to fight. My experience of the British soldier was that he was happiest when he was fighting. I saw the 30th and the 73rd regiments form square as the Cuirassiers approached. The slope did not favour heavy horses. Even from the cross roads I heard the lead balls as they pinged off shiny steel breastplates. Not all of that particular regiment were lucky. I saw them withdraw back down the slope leaving horses and riders in their wake.

  Closer to Gemincourt the 69th did not see the cuirassiers because of the corn. To my horror I saw that the heavy horsemen had managed to get inside the incomplete square. It would be a massacre. I spurred Pierre down the slope. The gunners of the artillery pieces had taken shelter in the square and they were desperately using anything to hand to fight off the cuirassiers. I fired my pistol at the head of one cuirassier who was trying to tear the regimental colour from the wounded ensign. The young officer was bravely protecting it. The King’s colour was being ripped from the hands of a second dying ensign. The dead colour party around his body showed the courage of the defence.

  I fired a second pistol and hit another horseman. Drawing my sword I rode into the huddle of cuirassiers. Their mounts were much bigger than Pierre. He suddenly lifted up and his hooves clattered at the head of a cuirassier’s horse. Mount and rider fell at my feet. I barely had time to hold on to my reins. As we landed I swung my sword at the back of the nearest Frenchman. It slid down his helmet and ripped across the back of his neck. I looked around for the others and the colours but I saw them being carried back to the French lines.

  A bloodied captain raised his sword in salute as the square was reformed and the angry soldiers fired volley after volley into the departing Frenchmen. When the survivors fled the square was ringed with dead Frenchman whilst the interior was a red sea. Inside the safety of the square I was able to watch the other Cuirassier regiments as they tried to force the crossroads. Canister and volley fire drove them back. I shook my head. Ney was a fool. If he sent his horse artillery with the heavy horse then this day would be his and he would have captured the crossroads. However we had paid a price. I saw that a whole battalion of Landwehr had been ridden down and destroyed. They were not professional soldiers and this was no place for an amateur. As I watched the horsemen retreat I left the security of the square and made my way back to the crossroads. I patted Pierre’s head as we rode up the cobbled surface. He had probably saved my life by his impromptu action. I was glad that Sharp had chosen to buy him.

  Suddenly I saw the flash of red to my right. The Guards Division had arrived. It was not before time. I did not know where they had come from but it was a miracle. They were the best that we had. The Duke gave orders and Slender Billy rode off to give them their instructions. Sir Arthur turned to me. “Matthews, ride to La Bergerie, get the remnants of the regiments organised into a line of some description.”

  Although La Bergerie was just a couple of hundred yards from where we were it might as well have been a mile or more. The Duke and his staff were sheltered behind buildings and the ridge. The shattered soldiers who were close to the farm just sheltered behind each other.

  It was a terrifying ordeal to leave the relative safety of the crossroads and endure the shot and shell firing overhead and the musket balls flying up from the French lines. As I approached I saw that many senior officers were already down. They had led by example and paid the ultimate price. I went to raise my hat in salute then realised that it had been blown from my head. I nodded to Sharp, “See if you can find me a hat, Alan. I feel naked without one.”

  “Yes sir.” I saw him dismount and begin to examine the discarded officers’ hats, French and Allied, which littered the road.

  I saw a Major of the 69th. He saluted me, “Thanks for your help before. You saved one colour.”

  I shrugged. There was little else to say. “The Duke would like you chaps to form line.”

  He shook his head, “We have lost too many to go forward sir.”

  “I know.” I pointed to the other side of the road. “The Guards are going in. We just have to stop them from being outflanked.”

  “Then we can do that.”

  I rode east giving orders as I went. “Form line on the 69th.” I saw a lieutenant from the 30th looking dazed. “Come along lieutenant, your chaps have done well. Not long now. Just hang on a little longer” I pointed to the west. “The 1st Division i
s here.”

  A sergeant saluted, “Don’t you worry, sir. The 30th won’t let Old Nosey down. Come on lads. You heard the officer. Form line. Keep your ranks close eh boys?”

  By the time I was returning east we had a two deep line. It was a thin line but the red coats were dependable. They would hold. One of the Captains from the 73rd said, “Major Matthews we are short of ball and powder.”

  I saw a couple of slightly wounded soldiers and I waved them over. Sharp arrived with a hat. I noticed that it was a French one. He shrugged, “You have a big head, sir, it was the only one that would fit. I took off the cockade though.”

  “Thank you, lieutenant. Take these fellows to the crossroads and find some ball and powder. If you can find some water too then I am certain that they would appreciate it.”

  A voice from the line grumbled, “Rum would be better.”

  I laughed, “And I am sure there will be some when this little skirmish is over!”

  They all laughed and we waited. There was no longer volley fire but the skirmishers fired when they could and I saw odd men succumb to minor wounds as the balls flew around us. Sharp and the wounded men returned with some ball and a miniscule amount of powder however the resourceful Sharp had managed to get some water skins and that was invaluable. As they were drinking I shouted, “See if the dead have ball and powder.” The young shaken lieutenant gave me a look which showed how appalled he was at my suggestion 'Robbing the dead!' “Lieutenant, they have no use for it and it will save lives.”

  By the time the French began their approach most of the men were better supplied with ammunition. The smoke and the rye obscured our view and I saw the lancers late as they skirted the farm, I shouted, “Form square!” We formed two squares with the stragglers from the various regiments. I have never seen a square formed so quickly. I saw one light company racing back to the shelter of their regiment only to be cut down by the horsemen. Barely a handful crawled into our square. We were relatively secure and a wall of bayonets bristled like a red hedgehog.