by Griff Hosker
I was suddenly aware of shouts and the clamour of steel on steel. I looked up and saw that the Scots Greys and the Inniskillings were being attacked by lancers. Thankfully someone, I later discovered it was the Colonel, managed to order them into some sort of formation and they began to return across the battlefield. When the French guns began to fire again I realised that in their attempts to wreak their revenge on the guns they had concentrated on slaughtering the gunners and failed to spike them. I saw grey horses and red coated riders shredded by canister at point blank range.
“Fall back! Fall back!”
It almost brought tears to my eyes as I watched the heavy horses struggling to cope with the rye covered mud over which they travelled. Wolf was finding life much easier and that, I believe, saved at least some of the Scots Greys.
I saw half a troop riding obliquely across my front back to the safety of Mont St. Jean. I recognised Captain Macgregor. Sergeant Ewart had taken his eagle back to Waterloo but my cousin was doing what a good officer should do, he was trying to keep his men together. In numbers lay strength and hope. Sadly the lancers, on smaller, fresher horses, were catching the gallant greys. I drew two pistols. Wolf was a Chasseur’s horse and I rode him with my knees. I saw the trooper at the rear speared by an exultant lancer. I was approaching rapidly and I fired both pistols. One of the balls hit the second lancer. I holstered those two and then took out my second pair. This time I was but thirty paces from the lancers who were busy concentrating on the greys. I fired and one lancer fell from his mount whilst the other clutched his arm; dropping his lance in the process.
The rest had now caught the Scots Greys who were looking desperately over their shoulders. Their mounts were labouring in the difficult terrain. The sergeant of the lancers had also recognised the danger which I represented and three of them turned and made for me. I did not mind for it meant less to attack my cousin and his men. I tugged my reins as I drew my sword and I did the opposite of what they expected, I rode towards them. The move took me away from the first lance and I slashed at the second lancer. I almost severed his arm. My sword was sharp having yet to be used that day.
I saw the sergeant as he brought his arm back to stab me with his lance. I let go of the reins and, as he punched forward with the weapon , I grabbed the lance and jerked it toward me. He failed to let go and I hacked across his face with my sword as he hurtled towards me. It ripped into his mouth and nose. He fell backwards. If he lived he would be disfigured for life.
I gripped my reins as and pulled Wolf to the left. I was now on the same side of the lancer as his lance and he could not strike me; I was too close and it was too long. I whipped the sword around and hit him in the chest. He too fell backward.
Ahead of me I saw that the lancers had caught my cousin. His horse lay dead and he was defending himself with a broken lance. I took the reins of the riderless horse and urged Wolf on. The lancers must have heard my hooves and mistaken me for one of their comrades. My sword hacked across the back of one of them as my cousin swung the broken lance and knocked another from his saddle.
“Captain, get on this horse now!”
I turned and parried the lancer who had drawn his sword now that his lance was useless. He was no swordsman and with a flick of my wrist I was inside his guard and my blade pierced his throat.
The Scots were great horsemen and my cousin threw himself in the saddle. We began to catch the other Scots Greys who were still being pursued by lancers. Our fresher horses meant we caught them. The swords we wielded made short work of unprotected backs. A lancer with his back to a sword was a dead man. I saw that the sunken ditch was just a hundred yards ahead and I reined Wolf in. The survivors turned, “Just ride! I still have work to do.”
David Macgregor turned and raised his hand in salute. He had lost his fur cap and there was a slight wound to his forehead but he had survived. “Thank you, cousin. Pray visit with us when this is over. I owe you my life and the family would be pleased to see a distant relative.”
I nodded, “If I come through this then I will do so. Take care.”
I turned to survey the field. Those who would survive were close to me now. The bugler waved a salute as he passed me. The rifles had returned to the sandpit and were picking off the lancers and Chasseurs who pursued the survivors. The Heavy Brigade troopers who had survived the debacle were coming back at a walk. Some were walking horses and others were slumped over their saddles; their wounds testimony to their foolish courage. They were bloodied and they would not charge again that day. They had, however, returned. They were the few who had heeded the recall.
As I walked a weary Wolf back to the Duke he nodded, “Thank you, Major. We may have a couple of troops should we need them later. What a waste.” He threw a disgusted look at a shamefaced Earl of Uxbridge. The commander of the cavalry showed that the seven years since he had last commanded had taken the edge away from his skill. This was not the man I had admired on the retreat to Corunna!
There was a slight lull as both sides recovered from the slaughter of the last hour. The wounded closest to our lines were taken to safety. To our right we still heard the pop and crack of muskets around the Chateau. I saw one of the Duke’s aides being carried away. His left arm hung uselessly by his side. It was dangerous being so close to the Duke who was always closest to wherever the danger was. He might have been a cold man but no one could doubt his courage.
As I was reloading my pistols Sharp arrived with the spare horses. We changed saddles. We tied the two tired mounts by the elm tree. As I led Pierre back to the Duke I wondered about the wisdom of that. It was hardly the safest part of the battlefield to leave a pair of horses.
“Now that you have a fresh mount, Major, go with your fellow and see how the colonel fares at the Chateau. Tell him he must hold at all costs.” He waved to the east. “My other aides are still communicating with the Prussians.” He gestured for me to go closer to him. “Let me know of the Crown Prince’s dispositions. I shall ginger up the regiments here. I fear we will be the focus of Bonaparte’s attention again.”
“Sir.”
We rode along the ridge. The Duke and his entourage rode in the opposite direction. I could hear the sergeants as they shouted a warning to their men, “Stand to, here comes Old Nosey!”
I saw the Crown Prince with his staff. They were further from the front than the Duke. It was no surprise. As I passed the Nassau regiment, Major Von Normann waved cheerily at me. So far he had managed to avoid having his regiment slaughtered as so many others had been. He and his battalion were now supporting the rear of the Chateau and a battery of Dutch guns gave them some protection.
We dismounted some fifty yards from the Chateau of Hougoumont and led our horses down the path to the rear gate. The French were lobbing howitzer shells into the interior. I saw that parts of the building were on fire and I heard the screams of men who were burning to death. There was no one to fight the fire; they were all fighting the French. A steady stream of wounded were trudging away from the chateau. I left Sharp with the horses at the rear gate of the chateau. There they could shelter from the musket and artillery fire. I ducked under the lintel and ran in to yet another scene of death and destruction.
I saw Nassauers and Coldstream Guards intermixed. The loopholes we had cut earlier were being put to good use. I grabbed a Coldstream's arm. “Where is Colonel Macdonell?”
The Guard pointed to the yard. In there, sir.”
As I entered the yard I saw that the French had broken in. There were a group of Frenchmen already in the yard. Thankfully there were only a few but more were threatening to enter. The gate was open and the Sous-lieutenant who led them was wielding an axe. He looked like some ancient warrior. He was a giant. Even as I watched I saw his axe take the head from a Dutchman. I turned to a sergeant who, like me was watching the scene. “Get half a dozen men and form a line behind me.” His look questioned me. “Do it sergeant! I am Major Matthews from the Duke’s staff and we do not have
long to remedy this situation.” He nodded and ran.
I saw that the French were being attacked individually and they were dealing with each attack easily. I wondered if the colonel had been killed and then I saw him and a group of his soldiers trying to bar the gate. That made sense. He had to stop more men getting in.
“Here sir!”
I turned and saw that the sergeant had found six men. “Prepare!” I raised my pistol. “Fire!" We all fired at once and wall of smoke filled the space between us and the French. "Reload.” As they reloaded I drew my second pistol. “Fire!" We had the same effect but we could hardly see the French for the smoke was so thick and the howitzer shells were still dropping. "Reload!” Our sixteen balls had ploughed into the French men who were now wreathed in smoke. “Fire!” As the seven muskets barked out for the third time I drew my sword. “Coldstreams! Charge! Give them the bayonet and send them to hell!”
The seven of them gave a hurrah and we plunged into the smoke. The soldier on my right had his musket chopped in two by the mighty Frenchman. The force was so powerful that the Guard fell to the cobbled yard his musket broken. As the axe was raised to give the coup de grace I lunged forward and my Austrian sword sank into the officer’s middle. He was a tough man and he turned to swing the axe at me. I ducked as I withdrew my sword. My hat was knocked from my head. The swing of the axe opened up the Frenchman and this time I whipped my sword across his throat. I watched the life go from his eyes as the axe fell from his hands and he slumped to the cobbles of the yard.
Other Guards had surrounded the Frenchmen who were being bayoneted to death. Suddenly I spied the French drummer boy as a wild eyed private was about to despatch him. I knocked aside the musket and shouted, “Hold! He is a boy!” The man stared at me and then nodding, picked the boy up by his epaulettes and hauled him away.
The colonel ran over to me. I saw blood dripping from a wound on his face and his hands showed where he had been struck whilst closing the gate. “Well done, Matthews, that was a little hairy!” He looked down at the giant. “My God what do they feed them on?”
I shook my head, “He is the biggest Frenchman I have ever seen that is for sure. The Duke’s compliments, how are things going?”
“Fine so long as the Young Frog stays clear but we are short of ammunition.”
“I will send some.”
“Sergeant Graham, take some men and clear away these bodies.”
“Sir.”
The colonel wiped his forehead, “How are things going elsewhere?”
“General Picton is dead but we repulsed their first attack and the Heavy Brigade slaughtered them.”
He cocked his head to one side, “Please tell me that the cavalry obeyed orders and returned in one piece.” I shook my head. “It is always the same.” Someone shouted for the colonel and he shook my hand, “Thank you for your intervention and now I must go.”
When I reached Sharp the howitzers had eased momentarily and I could actually hear him. “A little rough eh sir?”
”You could say that. Now, I fear, we must go and speak with the Crown Prince.”
When I reached the Crown Prince he was viewing the battlefield through his telescope.
“Sir, Colonel Macdonell and his men are running short of ammunition.”
He looked at me with a look of pure disgust upon his face. “Do I look like a shopkeeper? I have a battle to win and the Colonel must make do with what he has.”
I felt my hand going to my pistol. I could just draw it and shoot the man! Major General Rebecque caught my eye and shook his head. “Come with me Major Matthews.” When we were out of earshot he said. “You are a fine officer but you must learn to be more diplomatic. There are ammunition carts yonder sir.” He pointed to an area about half a mile from the staff officers.
“Then why have they not been ordered forward?”
He shrugged. I knew that he was a good man but this was inexcusable. I jerked Pierre’s head around in anger and rode to the carters. All of them were civilians.
“I need one of you to go to the chateau and replenish their powder and ball.” They stared at me and then ignored me. I repeated my words in French in case they could not understand me. They remained silent. Eventually one of them said, “A man could get killed going down there. We will wait until it quietens down a little.”
“By then it will be too late for they will all be dead.”
The man shrugged. I pulled my pistol. “Perhaps if I used this then you might comply.”
The man did not seem bothered. “If you use that then I will be dead and who will take it down then?”
I cocked the pistol and said, “I can drive a wagon. And it will be lighter without your dead body upon it.”
His eyes widened in fear. “Very well but this is unfair. I am no soldier.”
I took out a shilling and flipped it to him. “Then for the next hour you are. Here is the King's shilling and when you return with an empty wagon then there will be another waiting for you.”
Greed got the better of him and he drove his cargo down the slope into the chateau. It must have been frightening for shells were being fired once more and he had both ball and powder in his cart. Twenty minutes later he reappeared and held out his hand. I gave him the coin and he grinned as he drove his vehicle north. “That is me empty then. I shall have to go back to get some more and by then I have a feeling that this will be over, one way or the other.”
I assiduously avoided the Crown Prince and his officers as I made my way back to the elm. Instead I rode through the 3rd Netherlands division who were resting on the reverse slope. There were still wounded soldiers heading for the surgeons who were waiting at Waterloo. Disconcertingly I also saw fit and healthy soldiers skulking away too. I wondered why for there had been a lull in the French attack then I heard the pounding begin again. The lost French gunners had been replaced and the twelve pound cannons were beginning to belch forth once more. We hurried to the Duke. The French would be moving again soon.
Chapter 12
I saw Copenhagen under the elm tree once more and the Duke seated alone. Around him the various aides were taking the opportunity to rest. The Duke never rested. Nor did he seem to need either food or drink. I reported what I had seen at the Chateau. He nodded as though not surprised.
“Sir, I should also report that many healthy men are retreating north too.”
"Just so long as the majority hold where they are then we have a chance. Blucher is coming. We just have to hold on and now, gentlemen we had better prepare for Bonaparte's next onslaught."
He pointed across the valley where the French guns began to fire along their length. This was the Grand Battery. The few which had been damaged in the charge of the Heavy Brigade had not diminished their power. Now that the ground had dried out a little some of the balls were bouncing, as their gunners intended, and taking out files of men. Fortunately the Duke had them in a two deep line but as they continued to bounce and run down the reverse slope so they continued to cause carnage.
A stray ball flew towards us and we both ducked. I heard a shout and saw Fitzroy Somerset clutch the stump of his arm. “Take him to the surgeon now!” The Duke was rattled for Somerset was a good friend. He turned to me and urgency was written all across his face. “Ride to the 5th division and tell them to retire beyond the ridge. There is little point in them suffering casualties to no good purpose. Have the Hanoverians do the same.”
I galloped the few hundred yards to the left of our line. “The Duke wishes you to retire in good order from the ridge but maintain your lines.”
Now that Sir Thomas was dead Sir James Kempt was in command. He too was calm under fire and in his precarious position that was vital. “Thank you Major Matthews. It was getting dashed hot here.”
He turned and ordered his men to turn and march one hundred yards to the rear. The Hanoverians did the same. All along the front the regiments and battalions retired to the reverse slope to take shelter from the ninety odd
balls which flew towards them. Long after the battle was over I thought of the effect that must have had on the French. All they would have seen would have been British and Hanoverian soldiers retreating. They must have thought that it signified victory. Certainly it was the only explanation of what they did next. I saw cuirassiers lining up and preparing to charge. The Duke saw them at the same time.
“Good God have they gone mad? Are they going to attack us using cavalry without artillery support?”
“I think so, my lord.”
“Tell the regiments to form square! This will be dicey Matthews! But if the fellows hold their nerve then we may be able to give these vaunted horseman a good thrashing.”
“Yes sir.” It did not take much urging for the soldiers to get into square. All it needed was my shout of “Cavalry! Ware your front” and the ranks formed. Some of the smaller regiments who had suffered at Quatre Bras looked pitifully weak whilst the biggest regiment, the 52nd was so big it formed two squares. As at Quatre Bras the brave gunners would wait until the last minute before flinging themselves beneath the protective umbrella of the bayonets of the front rank.
You could not see in the valley but we heard the thunder of the hooves and the crash of the artillery. I rode back to the ridge. The sight almost took my breath away. The whole of the valley was filled from Hougoumont to La Haie Sainte by cavalry. There appeared to be no space between them. This was the French version of our fateful charge. The difference was that this was not a few hundred, this was a few thousands. I even saw regiments from the Imperial Guard joining in. It was like a sea of cavalry but the ground did not suit them. They were hardly charging at a gallop. At best they managed a fast trot. There was tough rye to contend with; there was the slope and mud. Finally there was the detritus of the earlier attacks. There were the dead and dying horses and men. For all of them death would come soon as they were trampled beneath thirty thousand hooves.