Waterloo (Napoleonic Horseman Book 6)

by Griff Hosker

  I knew that I had to find the Duke; if he still lived. The last that I had seen of him he had been amongst the Guards and wreathed in a blanket of smoke. I raised my sword in salute. "My lord, they are withdrawing down the hill. There are still three battalions of Guards there but they cannot do anything."

  He smiled. "Aye well, Matthews it is nearly done but that is not enough. It must be done properly. In for a penny in for a pound eh?"

  He took off his hat and I knew what was coming. I moved out of the way as he pulled back on Copenhagen's reins to raise the horse from the ground. He stood in the stirrups and raised his hat. Suddenly the thick clouds above us parted and a single shaft of evening sunshine caught the Duke as he waved his hat three times. The Duke shouted, "The Army will advance!" The cry was taken up by officers along the whole British line.

  As the hooves of Copenhagen struck the ground he said, "Now, Matthews. The cavalry!"

  I rode along the line of the Light Horse Brigades yelling as I went. "The army will advance. Drive the French from the field!"

  Below me the infantry advanced. It was not a line. There were too few men left for a solid line. It was pockets of a hundred men or so moving relentlessly down the slope towards the defeated French. The ones who marched were the ones who still had some strength left. Sometimes they were led by a mere ensign and colour party or a sergeant but still they advanced.

  I reached the Heavy Brigade. It was a shadow of the force which had bravely galloped down the hill that morning. I saw that there were but a handful of white horses left. "The army will advance." I waved my sword towards La Belle Alliance. "Let us finish what we started this morning."

  The lines began to advance down the hill. This time there were no infantry to negotiate; just the dead and the dying. I saw my cousin. I nudged Pierre next to him. "I shall ride with my cousin I think! The Macgregors will end this together."

  "And I shall be proud to ride alongside such an illustrious countryman."

  We trotted down the hill. Pierre was dwarfed by the greys but he trotted proudly for all that. We gradually overtook the infantry who cheered us as we went by. I watched then as they bayoneted the wounded and then began to strip the bodies of valuables. Such was war and this would be my last. I would not have to either endure such torment nor watch such barbarity any more.

  As I looked around me I saw that I was the most senior officer remaining although having no uniform only I knew that. The captains, lieutenants and the sergeant who had survived the morning debacle needed neither orders nor instructions. This was what they had been trained for their whole lives. They were about to swoop on a defeated and demoralised enemy who was retreating. The French had their backs to us and this time there would be no cavalry to come to their aid. The only thing which might save them would be nightfall.

  As we rode down the trodden field of rye I saw that some of the advancing infantry had been wounded or were too exhausted to carry on. Bizarrely they waved cheerily, giving us a 'Huzzah!' as we passed and I saw them chewing the rye which had been threshed by feet and hooves.

  The survivors of the Household division broke up into the composite squadrons. I rode with the Greys as we chased the grenadiers of the Middle Guard. They heard the hooves and some tried to turn. None had reloaded and they only had a bayonet to fend off our sabres. I leaned forward as the sergeant who had lost his bearskin jabbed at Pierre with his bayonet. I flicked the bayonet aside with ease and then jabbed down with the tip. It entered his eye and, as it tore into his skull he fell to the floor dead. Twisting my sword to remove it I looked for my next victim.

  They were victims but I knew that I could not relent. Bonaparte had inspired these men to return to the colours once. He could do so again. We had to destroy his Guard. Without them he could never again threaten the peace of Europe.

  Our progress down the slope became slower as we had to despatch the Guards who turned to face us. Soon it became hard to negotiate the slope for there were so many bodies.

  It was now no longer the Guard who were before us. It was also the other infantry and even the cavalry who had joined in the rout. There was courage still in the French and some of the horsemen hearing cavalry approach turned to face us. It was a matter of honour. I saw some dragoons in their green uniforms. Their muskets were long gone and their swords were blunted but they turned and tried to charge uphill towards us. It was their horses which inspired pity in me. They were exhausted almost to the point of death and yet they still tried to carry their riders back up the hill.

  A squadron of them charged us and it was a hectic skirmish which ensued. I was buffeted and struck from all sides but we had the slope with us and we forced our way through them. I riposted the first sword and pushed the dragoon from his horse with the tip of my blade. A lieutenant, like me, without a hat, tried to hack down at me. I blocked his sword which shattered. He tried to wheel away but a Scots Grey skewered him.

  I saw French soldiers raising their hands and shouting, "Vive le roi!" it made no difference to the infantry. They were in no mood for mercy. They had suffered at the hands of ball, powder, lance and bayonet. They were intent on revenge. The French were slaughtered by redcoats with the blood lust upon them. We moved inexorably down the slope and then up towards La Belle Alliance. Napoleon's Headquarters was some four hundred yards up the slope. It was then that I saw the three squares of the Old Guard waiting resolutely for us half way up the slope which led to the road south. Their presence told me that Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte had, along with most of his generals, already left the battlefield.

  I suddenly found myself alone. I reined Pierre in to ascertain where the rest of the Union Brigade had got to. I was suddenly aware of a blue uniform hurtling towards me. I just managed to duck as a sabre whizzed over my head. It was a Grenadier of the Imperial Guard. As the rider reined his horse around I recognised it as Major Armand, it was Colonel Hougon's cousin. He had come for revenge. I was at a distinct disadvantage: he had a bigger fresher horse.

  "We may have lost this battle, murderer but I shall have the satisfaction of avenging my cousin." He charged at me.

  I whipped Pierre's head to the right to avoid the sword which came towards my head. My nimbler horse easily evaded the huge black beast which the major rode. It was impossible for him to bring his sword down on me; I was on the wrong side of his mount. I continued to wheel around so that I came up behind the Major. As he turned his horse he back slashed at me and I blocked it with my sword. I twisted as I did so. My sword had a straight, long blade. The Grenadier had a sabre. He lost control of the blade and I lunged at him. My sword sliced along his side. It came away red. He hacked down and I deflected the sabre but it struck my leg. It felt suddenly numb.

  "Coward! Face me like a man!"

  I ignored his words and concentrated on his sword and his eyes. He tried to make his horse rear and clatter Pierre with his hooves. As the horse's head came up I had no compunction in slicing across the horse's neck with my sword. It ripped through the horse's jugular and I, along with Pierre, were sprayed with its blood. It was an enormous horse and the major clung on to the reins. The Grenadier fell to the ground and then the huge dead horse fell upon him. I heard the crack as his back broke. Major Armand was dead.

  I had no time to reflect. Muskets were still popping and the battle still raged. Sir Arthur would be upon the ridge. For all that I knew I was the most senior officer on the battlefield and I could not just sit and admire the scenery. I saw the Scots Greys close by. They were enjoying the chase; pursuing pockets of fleeing horsemen.

  I shouted to David, "Captain Macgregor! Halt your men. They need to rest and those Grenadiers are fresh."

  The Old Guard were marching back slowly towards the ridge in square. It takes the most disciplined of soldiers to do this and the ones before us were just that. It was not volley fire they were enduring but they were being struck. As gaps appeared in their ranks they were closed up. I watched as dismounted horsemen, artillerymen and infantry t
ried to get inside the square. It was the safest place on the battlefield for a Frenchman. Despite the fact that they were French soldiers, they were killed. If there had been any order to the allied formations then volley fire would have decimated the squares. As it was the squares were being nibbled to death.

  David looked down at me, "Sir, your leg. You have been wounded. " I remembered the blow from the Dragoon and the one from Major Armand. Which one had given me the wound? "Trooper Menteith see to him."

  I looked down and saw that I had had my overalls sliced through from the knee to the thigh and I had a wound there. I had not noticed it. "It is nothing."

  Trooper Menteith jumped down and took a neck cloth from a dead Frenchman who lay nearby. "You are bleeding, sir. We can't have that!" David waved him over and he gave him a bottle which was in my cousin's saddlebag. He poured some over the wound. It burned and numbed at the same time. He handed the bottle to me. "Whisky, sir. The water of life, have a drink. It is a shame to waste it all on a wound."

  I swallowed the peaty spirit. It was like drinking smoky fire. I had not eaten since before the battle started and I wondered what effect the neat spirits would have upon me.

  "There that is the best I can do, sir but I would see a surgeon as soon as you can."

  Some Inniskillings joined us as we dressed our ranks, rested our horses and watched the Grenadiers slaughter all who came close to them.

  One of the Inniskillings asked, "Sir, why are they killing their own men? Its daft sure enough."

  "These men of the Imperial Guard know that if they open their square then we will be in too. These are ruthless men. These are the men who marched back with Marshal Ney in a Russian winter fighting off Cossacks and wolves. These men are not afraid to die. They just want to take as many of us as they can with them. Do not be in a hurry to oblige them. We will let our horses recover and then when they reach the top of the ridge we will surround them and invite them to surrender."

  David looked at me. "Do you think they will?"

  I gave a rueful smile, "Not one chance in a thousand but it would be polite to ask."

  As they neared the top of the ridge I led the Union Cavalry Brigade I now commanded around them to block off their escape. The Life Guards and the Rifles joined me. The infantry and other cavalry units joined in so that we had them surrounded and they could retreat no more.

  It was there we saw the 10th Hussars, a newly arrived regiment, decide to end it. I recognised Major Howard, the commanding officer. He was the son of the Earl of Carlisle. I knew him to be charismatic but incredibly reckless. He raised his sword, "Come on 10th Hussars. Let us show these Frenchies that we are not afraid of the bearskins and their moustaches! We will drive them all the way back to Paris!"

  I watched in horror as they charged the square. The Old Guard raised their muskets. The order was given to fire. These did not fire high; they fired into the horses and the middle of the horsemen. They had the best French muskets on the battlefield and they could fire almost as quickly as an English regiment. The Hussars disappeared in the foul black smoke from poor French powder. All that we could see were the flashes of their muzzles. When they ceased firing and the smoke cleared, the 10th as a regiment had ceased to exist.

  I saw Major Howard, who amazingly was still alive and laying about him with his sword, clutch his head as he was struck a glancing blow from a pistol ball and he fell at the feet of the front rank. He was not dead and he tried to rise. He staggered to his knees and he held his head. A Grenadier stepped forward and beat the colonel's head with the butt of his musket until it was unrecognisable as a human skull.

  I had had enough. "Heavy Brigade, form a line. Draw sabres." I recognised the 71st Foot. They had reasonable numbers left still. Captain, have your men form two lines before me here." The officer saluted and hurried to obey. I saw a French gun pointing forlornly at our lines. "You fellows, turn that gun around if you please and aim it at the square."

  A colour sergeant who had a heavily bandaged head shouted, "You heard that officer. Make sure it is loaded and stick some more balls down the barrel. These bastards need wiping from the face of the earth."

  There were few recognisable regiments now. But there were companies, platoons and troops who had come to surround the Old Guard and witness their death. There were many muskets and pistols levelled at their blue ranks. Many more had joined us since we had surrounded them. When the square was surrounded I rode forward. I recognised General Cambronne on his horse in the middle of the largest square. He was an unpleasant butcher. I had known him in Italy where he had been a captain. Even in those days he had been ruthless and renowned for his toughness.

  "General Cambronne, you are surrounded. There is no dishonour in surrendering. You have served your Emperor well and he has gone. Do not waste your lives."

  "I know you! You were in the Chasseurs. Have you changed sides?"

  "Yes, General, for my mother was Scottish but hear me. My regiment was abandoned and slaughtered in Egypt. Your Emperor has abandoned you. These are brave men. Do not let them die for nothing!"

  "I know," he said, "but buggers like us do not surrender. Do your worst!"

  The whole square cheered and levelled their muskets. They were about to fire. I rode back to the 71st and the Rifles. Some of the officers had understood what I was saying but the men had no idea. "I asked them to surrender, they declined. Captain, you may fire!"

  The muskets and the rifles fired before the cannon. I saw the general knocked from his horse in the first volley. He was later captured by a Hanoverian officer. When the cannon fired it swept through all four sides of the square. It had been filled to capacity and death went everywhere. The muskets fired and kept firing. I saw, through the smoke and in the light of the musket fire, the squares shrink and then join and then become triangles. Finally the captain turned to me and said, "Sir, we are out of ammunition." I could see that there were still guardsmen who stood defiantly. This could not go on indefinitely.

  I drew my sword, "Then let us end it here. Charge!" Charge was an exaggeration for it sounds like we moved with speed. We did not. We lurched towards them but the sight of the horses and the bayonets was too much and the Guard finally fled down the road towards the crossroads at Quatre Bras where it had all begun days earlier. The battle the French called, Mont St. Jean and the Prussians called La Belle Alliance was over but it is remembered by the name the Duke of Wellington gave it, the battle of Waterloo.

  Part 4 Hunting the Emperor

  Chapter 15

  If I thought my war was over then I was wrong. I rode back across the battlefield which was still littered with the dead, the dying and the wounded towards Waterloo. The only hope for the wounded was that their comrades would come and find them and take them home. The ones who were abandoned would have their throats slit and their bodies robbed in the dark. The vultures would gather in the night and they would be human. I saw the 71st doing just that. Others would lie on the field for another three days. Many would die before then as they had their lives ended by locals who could not wait for them to die. The price for fighting on their land was that the dead lost their valuables, their clothes and even their teeth. It was macabre. Many years later I was offered a set of false teeth on a visit to Paris. The seller took great delight in telling me that they were Waterloo teeth.

  When we reached the camp of the Scots Greys I shook hands with Captain David Macgregor, "I hope to see you in more peaceful circumstances, Captain. Come to Messina and visit with me on my estate."

  "And you, sir, must come to Scotland and visit your ancestral home. My family will wish to thank you for your services not only to our country but to me."

  "Perhaps, perhaps." We shook hands. His troop all saluted and gave three 'Huzzahs'. I know not if they were for me or for their survival. I waved as cheerily as I could for I was aching, tired and the whisky had worn off. My leg hurt..

  I found Wolf still tied forlornly to the elm tree. I changed horses. Poor Pierre
was beyond exhaustion. I made my weary way to the Duke's headquarters leading my proud Pierre behind me. It was almost midnight when I reached it.

  The sentry outside was almost asleep and he jumped to attention as I dismounted. "Sorry Major Matthews, it has been a long day."

  "I know." My left leg hurt as I stepped down onto it for the first time. I led my horses into the stables. There was just Copenhagen there. Goodness only knows where the others had gone. I unsaddled both of my horses. I rubbed them down and gave them grain and water. They had both deserved it.

  I entered the hotel and found Sir Arthur writing his report. He looked up when I entered and I saw him smile; a rare occurrence. "Matthews, you survived!" He saw the red bandage around my leg. "You are hurt, sir! You must see a surgeon!"

  "I believe they will have more pressing matters than the leg of a major, sir. I will go in the morning." He nodded and returned to his writing. "Well it is over with, sir. I can go back to Sicily now."

  He put his pen down. "Not quite yet, Matthews. It seems the Prussians want Bonaparte executed. Damned barbaric if you ask me. It is not civilised. We have to get to him before they do."

  I smiled. He made the war and the battle sound like a game of cricket.

  "We can't have generals being executed for losing a battle. I want you and Selkirk to take some cavalry tomorrow morning and find him. You know the man and you know the country. Find him and put him on a Royal Navy ship. Selkirk will know what to do." My face must have fallen for he said, "I know it is an imposition and you have done so much already for your country but Selkirk told me that you once served this man. It seems to me that Fate has marked you out for this job. You are the only aide who has survived, almost intact today. This was meant to be."