by Griff Hosker
The Major in my square shouted, “Front rank, fire."
Another voice shouted, " Second rank fire.
Finally an ensign shouted, "Third rank fire.” It was boys who now commanded men old enough to be their fathers.
Had this been Chasseurs then those three volleys would have been enough but these were lancers and I saw a lance dart in and spear the shaken lieutenant in the shoulder. I fired my pistol and the lancer flew backwards over his horse. On the western side of the square the three ranks were firing at the horsemen as they charged up the road. The Hanoverian artillery began to clear the horsemen like a farmer with a scythe. We had to endure the attacks for another twenty minutes before the horsemen retired. We had no respite for the Tirailleurs began to pepper the huge target that was the square.
I saw that the Major was being attended to. “Form line. Take the wounded to the rear! Skirmishers to the fore.”
As we formed line Sir John Halkett appeared. He was the divisional commander. “Well done Matthews. I believe that the Duke has need of you. I shall take charge now.”
“How is it going, sir?”
“It is a damned good job that the Guards arrived. At least we have some cavalry now but my boys have suffered.”
“They have, sir, but they were resolute and held their ground. I am proud to have served with them.”
As I rode away I heard some tired cheers from the men I fought alongside.
The Duke was consulting his map as I rode up. “How are the troops? Will they hold, Major Matthews?”
“I believe they will, sir.”
“Good. They need not advance but I would have the stream held.” He pointed to the woods, the Bois de Bossu. I could see it lined by red coats. “The Guards are in possession of the woods but I would have you and Sharp ride to the east. The 1st Hanoverian brigade is there under the command of General Kielmansegge. I would like him to drive those infantry further south. If he can take Lairalle Farm then so much the better.” He hesitated, “I intend to secure Gemincourt farm once more and then we shall be secure. I have had word that General Dornberg is almost upon us with his cavalry. They are much needed.”
I smiled, “Yes sir.” It was unusual for the Duke to give an explanation. I felt honoured.
If I am not here when you return I shall be in Genappe, the Hotel de le Roi d’Espagne.”
“Yes sir.”
"You are doing well Matthews. They all are."
The Hanoverians were on the extreme left of the battlefield and we rode down the Namur road to reach them. There was a line of wounded soldiers limping and stumbling along the road. They were heading back to Brussels. There were many wagons and carts with the more seriously wounded. I shook my head. The French had realised that if you could attend to the wounded on the field then you saved the lives of valuable soldiers. The French ambulances were already darting across the valley bottom. We had yet to learn that lesson. When we had passed the last British battery we headed off the road and down the valley. I could see the Hanoverian brigade as their light infantry duelled with the Tirailleurs. Here and there were pairs of green jackets as they picked off the officers and sergeants.
It was almost eight o’clock when I reached the Hanoverians. Pierre was stumbling now. He was exhausted. We dismounted and led our horses to the cluster of senior officers. The general turned as I approached. I saw his quizzical glance at my newly acquired French hat but he said nothing. “The Duke’s compliments, sir, and could you push the French south of the farm?”
He smiled, “It is Major Matthews, is it not?”
“Yes sir.”
“Is the Duke aware that we have been engaged for six hours already?”
“I believe so sir but he intends to take Gemincourt Farm. The pressure should decrease and I believe that our cavalry are on their way.”
He sighed, “You are a good fellow. We will try.” He turned to give his orders and then, as he turned back saw that we were still there. “You are not returning to the safety of the crossroads?”
I pointed to the horses, “The horses need a rest sir and I may be of assistance here.”
He nodded, “Very well.”
The soldiers of the King’s German Legion were the equal of any British line regiment. They dressed and fought in the same way. But for the commands, in German, of course, one would believe that they were Hanoverian.
The four battalions set about their work with great efficiency. The company of rifles attached to the brigade darted forward in pairs followed by the light battalions. They soon began to drive the French light infantry back. I saw the rifles head towards the woods where they began to pick off the gunners. It enabled the Hanoverian line battalions to advance in column with few casualties from the artillery. The French horses were blown by continuous charge and the infantry found themselves out gunned. They gradually fell back to the shelter of the woods. Some of the light infantry actually gained the eaves of the wood before being driven back.
When the recall was sounded the Hanoverians had done all that was asked of them. The general rode up to me and pointed west. “I can see the Duke has regained the farm. Perhaps this little skirmish is over.”
At that moment I caught sight of the helmets of the dragoons on the Namur to Nivelles road. The cavalry had arrived. “I believe it is sir. But I wonder what the morrow will bring.”
“Indeed.”
We mounted our horses and headed north to Genappe and a welcome bed.
Chapter 9
It was a vain hope. We reached the hotel at eleven p.m. The Duke had retired and every room was taken. We had little option but to share the stable with our horses. Sharp was remarkably cheerful about the whole thing. “If a stable was good enough for the baby Jesus then it is good enough for me, sir.”
We saw to our horses; we put them in the stall next to Copenhagen. Then we collapsed in the hay loft and I was asleep instantly. It is an old soldier’s trick. I had first been taught how to utilise every opportunity to sleep by Old Albert in the Chasseurs. It came in handy. Especially when three hours sleep a night was luxury. The noise from below awoke me. I saw John, Sir Arthur’s servant, saddling Copenhagen.
“I take it we are on duty again, John.”
He looked up, temporarily startled, “Afraid so, Major. Sir Arthur wondered where you were."
" Any chance of breakfast?”
He laughed, “I daresay if you hurry you might get some.”
“Come along, Alan. Duty calls.”
Rubbing his head he said, “And just think, sir we could be in Sicily now! We could be smelling lemons and drinking fine wine. There would be freshly caught fish and a soft bed too.”
“But would we be happy at missing all of this?”
“I think so.”
I actually felt sorrier for Pierre than for me. He would have to bear me through another hot day which promised to be as sultry as the previous one. I threw some water on my face. I was acutely aware of my smell but I could do little about that. The Duke was already poring over a map whilst eating, somewhat half heartedly what looked like a stale piece of bread.
He gave a half smile. “Morning, Matthews. Should be another lively day eh?”
“Sir.”
John grinned as he handed me half a loaf. As I expected it was stale. It was as good as it would get.
As I ate he said, "Napoleon gave the Prussians a good hiding yesterday at Ligny. They had to head north east." He nodded, "Your little view of the map and Bonaparte's plans were correct. It seems that we faced the smaller corps yesterday while Marshal Blucher faced the full might of Bonaparte. I fear that today it is our turn to face Bonaparte's ire. What we must do is make sure that we hold on to the road to the east. If his plan succeeds then he can destroy us and finish off the Prussians before the Austrians and the Russians even leave home!"
I finished the bread and swilled it down with the hot sweet tea. "Ready sir."
"I shall need you and your fellow to have your wits about you t
oday. We have not got the army I commanded in Spain. But do not say that outside these walls. I will need all of our people who command, and that includes you, to think on their feet and to solve problems. Eh Matthews?"
"Yes sir. We will do our best."
"Today your best may not be enough. You may need to be almost superhuman as I will. We must not show fear and we must never show panic. Always remember to deliver orders calmly and whenever possible walk rather than run." He laughed, "What am I telling your for. You were at Corunna!"
Sir Arthur mounted Copenhagen and Sharp and I followed him. There were three other junior aides who left the hotel with us. The rest had already been given their orders and were spread over Flanders. Wellington had had three hours sleep. I remembered the Emperor was the same. They could both manage on ridiculously small amounts of sleep. It was strange how they were both so similar in so many ways.
We headed back to the crossroads. The land was now filled with small fires and soldiers sitting and sleeping around them. Sharp and I had a luxurious night in a hay loft in comparison to their sleeping arrangements. We dismounted and the Duke wandered over to the fire of some highlanders.
“Ninety Second I would be obliged for a little fire.”
They dutifully made a small fire a little way away from their own and pulled some broken tree trunks for seats. The Duke sat down. Sharp said, “I’ll try and get us a little tea eh sir?”
The Duke was preoccupied and I waved Sharp away. “I shall have a wander around, sir and ascertain the mood of the men.”
I smiled at the three young aides who looked a little lost. They would learn, as I had, how to do this job. I walked around the camp of the 92nd and listened to the conversations. None of them seemed downhearted. I headed towards the camp of the 73rd and they, too seemed, despite their losses, to be confident. I knew why. We had not fled despite being outnumbered. They had driven the French away in spite of the overwhelming advantage the French had had in cavalry. And, most importantly, Old Nosey was leading them.
As I was heading back to the campfire of the Duke I saw a heavily pregnant woman and three young children. She looked distressed. “May I be of assistance, madam?”
“Oh sir, my husband, Ensign Deacon, was wounded today and I cannot find him.”
“I think, my dear, that he will have been taken away to Brussels. The only ones left on this field are the dead.”
“Oh no sir, he is not dead. I have heard that he walked from the battle.”
“Then I would head for Brussels. They will have taken him there. He will be cared for and besides, dear lady, I fear that a battle will take place tomorrow and this is no place for a woman in your condition. There should be wagons heading north.” I reached into my waistcoat and found a silver coin. “This should expedite your journey.”
“No sir, I could not take you money.”
“I am afraid you have no choice. I outrank your husband and I insist that you take it.”
“Thank you sir.” She looked at me fearfully. “He will not be upon the field?”
“If he could walk then he will be heading to Brussels. I beg of you to follow him.”
“I will, sir and God bless you.”
I wandered back to the fire thinking about the courage of such women. I had seen, the previous day, poor young women lying dead by the side of the road. They had been killed by stray shots from the battle. They were not combatants but the eight pound shot and the lead balls did not know that.
Sharp had produced the tea and we all drank the brew. The Duke sent the three young lieutenants off to check on numbers of soldiers who were fit to fight. He shook his head in irritation at me when they had gone. “I cannot abide these youngsters. They have never fought and I am supposed to be their nanny! I have more important things to do than teach them how to be officers.” He sipped the hot sweet tea. “Tell me Matthews, what do you think of our position and, more importantly, what do these chaps think of it?”
“They think as I do, that the French should have won today but they did not and that gives us hope. They have seen that the French and Bonaparte are not invincible. There is a chink in the armour of the old fox. In the past he surrounded himself with good Marshals. Many have died and others are absent. Murat was not brilliant but he inspired men. Lannes is dead, Marmont and Massena are not here. It was Ney you fought today and you outwitted him. All have taken heart. And the Dutch and Belgians did well. I was impressed with Prince Bernard and the way he defended the crossroads.”
“But you do not like the Crown Prince?”
This was no time to mince words. “The man is a poltroon and is not fit to command a platoon.”
The Duke burst out laughing. “You will never make a politician! That is for certain. He is a pleasant enough fellow and will make a good king. His chief of staff will manage him.” I said nothing. The Duke must have sensed that my silence was dangerous. “Do nothing to jeopardise our relationship with the Dutch! That is an order. I know you, Matthews, you have an inflated opinion of the rank and file. They serve their country and if they die then it is for the good of the country. Do not worry so much about them. You and I have to see the bigger picture.”
I threw the dregs of the tea on to the fire where they sizzled and hissed, “Sir Arthur, I came back because Bonaparte needs stopping. The moment he is stopped then I return to Sicily and there I will see my picture, not a bigger picture and not a picture which denigrates ordinary soldiers.”
He was not put out by my criticism of the army in which he fought. “You have a future in this army. I watched you today. You inspired men and your decisions were all perfect ones. You could be a general.”
I stood and stretched, watching dawn beginning to break. “But I do not want to be. I have had enough of useless and pointless slaughter. I will go home and grow lemons and grapes.”
“It is a waste.”
I smiled, “You have not tasted my lemons nor drunk my wine.”
He laughed but our conversation was ended by the arrival of his aide, Sir Alexander Gordon. He hurled himself from his saddle. “Your grace, bad news. Blucher has been driven from the field of Ligny by Bonaparte and he is retreating towards Wavre.”
The Duke stood, “As he has gone back, we must go too. I suppose in England they will say we have been licked. I can’t help it; as they are gone back, we must go too.” He folded the map he had been studying. “Lieutenant Sharp go and find my lieutenants. They can actually start to do their jobs now. I want the wounded collecting and sending back to Brussels.”
“Sir.”
“Sir Alexander, Major. I want the army moving north to the ridge of Mont St. Jean. When the wounded have been collected I want the infantry moving, surreptitiously and discreetly; then the artillery. If Ney allows us we will then remove the cavalry and the horse artillery. I want you two to coordinate that movement. Today will decide who wins this battle. If the French advance early then all is lost. We must maintain communication with the Prussians. They are our only hope.”
Sir Alexander smiled, “Sir, so long as you lead us then there is hope.”
Sharp and I, along with Sir Alexander spent an exhausting six hours liaising with the various commanders extricating the infantry and artillery. Each time I returned to the Charleroi road I expected to see blue uniforms marching north but all that I saw were the fires of their camps as they cooked their meals. By two o’clock we just had the rearguard of cavalry and horse artillery maintaining the illusion that the army was still guarding the crossroads. The reality was that the majority of the army was already approaching the ridge.
It seemed that Nature or if you were a believer, God, intervened. Just as Ney woke up to the situation black thunder clouds rolled in making the day night. The humid sultry weather had been a premonition of this storm but it was of Biblical proportions. Sir Arthur later said he had never endured worse in an Indian Monsoon.
Our horse batteries opened up as the French tried to pursue. Suddenly the sky was li
ghtened by a roar as the Rocket battery used their rockets for the first time. They were a terrifying weapon as no one had any idea where they would go. Miraculously the first rocket flew directly at an artillery piece and destroyed it instantly. The effect was dramatic. The French limbered up their guns and fled south. It bought us time to retreat. I was exhausted and the torrential rain did not help. The explosions from the rockets and the shells mixed with the lightning and the thunder. It became difficult to work out what was the work of man and what the work of nature.
Sharp looked as tired as I was when he came to me at around five o’clock when we finally approached the bottleneck that was Genappe. I took the opportunity to send him back to Brussels. “Bring back our spare clothes and the spare horses. I fear we will need them both tomorrow. The Duke is making his headquarters at a village called Waterloo. Meet me there.”
Sharp knew me too well to argue. “You take care of yourself, sir!”
“You know I will.”
I felt a great sense of relief when Alan left. He had followed me in my pursuit of Bonaparte when he could have stayed in Sicily. I felt guilty. If anything happened to him then I would blame myself.
At Genappe I thought that we had escaped. I was wrong. I was with the 7th Hussars when French lancers attacked us. They came from nowhere. We were the rearguard and had no warning. My pistols were useless. The rain had seen to that but the poor Hussars with whom I fought had never fought against a lance and many lost their lives because of it. I drew my sword as the Chevau-Léger attacked. I had fought lancers before. They were not as intimidating as many thought they were.
I saw a young lieutenant as he was speared by a lancer. The Frenchman pulled back his arm and punched with the spear. It almost came through the officer's chest. A second came at me, confident that I would suffer the same fate as the young lieutenant. I timed my blow so that the lance was close to Pierre’s head. I deflected the lance with a sweep to the right. It was such a long weapon that a lancer had difficulty controlling the end. I quickly swung the sword back to disembowel the lancer. The Hussars seemed mesmerised by the lance and I saw them stuck like pigs. The light horsemen were brave boys and went at the lancers time and time again. The survivors learned the trick. Do not fight the lancer, fight the lance and get close. The lancers became discouraged. After I had despatched four lancers and others had also had their own success I saw a gap. "7th! On me!" I led the troop with whom I had been fighting, through.