by Alan Schom
Nor did the French find much to compensate for this dreary isolation when they entered the walls of this once-resplendent capital of Alexander the Great, the very memory of its fabled gardens and monumental library, the largest in the world, by now lost in the haze of dissipated centuries. Colonel Laugier’s view, as he passed through Pompey’s Gate, though clearly reflecting a total lack of imagination, was typical. “It is difficult to imagine an uglier city,” he remarked. “There is not a single trace of its former splendor and the remains of the genius left by its founder...Every door of every shabby dwelling bears the imprint of a despotism which knows how to destroy but never how to preserve. No repairs have been carried out on the inhabitated houses, and the other half are mere ruins.”
General Bonaparte’s original landing instructions had of course been altered unexpectedly because of the British naval threat. And the subsequent landings in Abukir Bay were hampered by the storm, rending temporarily impossible the landing of almost half the men and most of the horses, artillery, equipment, and food. Those units that did reach shore during the first twenty-four hours were in a state of utter confusion, one that in fact lasted for days and even weeks, leaving men to die of famine and thirst as a result of incompetent commissary operations and slack army organization.
At 5:00 A.M. on July 3, Bonaparte met with his artillery and engineering officers. They set out from French army headquarters in Alexandria for an inspection tour, though the last two divisions aboard the transports had not yet been landed. Going through the city, they checked on its water and food supplies, fortifications, and sites for barracks for the new French garrison. Despite all the setbacks, Napoleon was determined to complete his work quickly, in order to push on to Cairo, for time was more than ever of the essence if he was to catch the Mameluke armies before they could rally sufficient force against him. The city first had to be organized, of course, which he was now doing with Berthier’s able help, and yet one of his initial acts after feeding and housing his troops, set in motion by his sixth day in Egypt, was to arrange for the collection of taxes by Poussielgue and Magallon. The former Muslim leaders were to be reinstated in their traditional posts, while the city came under martial law. Yet even as the troops continued to disembark and reassemble in their proper battalions and brigades, and garrisons were assigned to man Fort Abukir, the beachheads, and the city walls and to police the city, Napoleon’s failure to put into effect previous reconnaissance, intelligence reports, and logistical planning was now felt with so cruel a vengeance as almost to destroy the expeditionary force from within, even before it confronted any major hostile military force.
The fact of the matter is that not just the landing but the entire campaign was a colossal foul-up from the very beginning, in consequence of Bonaparte’s haste and oversights. It was a move at once as arrogant as it was irresponsible, and every member of his expedition was to suffer accordingly. In reality Napoleon knew little more than where the main cities of Egypt were located. For the most part, he did not know the location of the main food storage depots, wells, and cisterns along his proposed invasion route — and this during the hottest month of the year. And yet on the actual march inland, Napoleon brought almost no supplies of food or water, intending instead for the troops “to live off the land.” Such a plan would have been difficult even in Europe. This, however, was not bountiful Europe, but a vast desert. The same criticism applies to transport; he brought just a few hundred horses with him, expecting somehow to find the horses, donkeys, oxen (and later camels) required for cavalry, artillery, and regular transport vehicles. Not only were large numbers of such transport animals not available in or near Alexandria, much to his chagrin, but he had no idea where to find them. As a result, even after reaching Cairo weeks later — and for months thereafter — his cavalry was still largely unmounted and useless; his wagons, carts, caissons, commissary, engineers, and baggage train all but immobilized.
The same lack of prior intelligence preparations led to a near débâcle. Napoleon failed to establish where the principal granaries were maintained (actually they were at Rosetta and Damietta, but the weather had prevented landings there). Nor did it occur to him to determine the availability of grist mills to prepare the many tons of flour required, and then the existence of enough ovens, strategically located, in which to bake the bread. A simple item, bread, but one that almost undid all his plans.
Under normal circumstances, Berthier, as chief of staff, should have been held responsible for establishing this most elementary information months before the government had even authorized the invasion. Nor, as has been seen, had army and naval intelligence officers been dispatched to Egypt well in advance to ascertain the information required for all aspects of the logistics involved. Given the unique circumstances of this invasion, the entire responsibility for its failure then lay with Divisional General Bonaparte alone. In fact the only “intelligence reports” he did possess were those provided by the merchant Charles Magallon and the treasurer, Poussielgue. He had not requested, dispatched, or received a single military intelligence report by a professional officer of any branch or service.
Thus it was that Bonaparte’s isolated army found itself (as it would for months to come) without, among other basics, bread and even canteens for water. Hundreds of French troops died of thirst, hunger, malaria, sunstroke, and exhaustion.
Another major oversight on the commander in chief’s part was the lack of any up-to-date maps. Napoleon did not know the main proposed routes for his army, and in what condition they would be found, in a country where roads for wheeled vehicles simply did not yet exist. He was especially ignorant of the extensive, complex canal system — with the exception of one or two major ones — that riddled the entire delta region and important areas of Upper Egypt as well, around al-Fayyum. Much to his surprise, in a country practically devoid of bridges, these canals proved to be an almost insurmountable barrier, whether dry or wet. His battalions and supply units had to cross and recross time and again wherever they went, and some of the larger canals were 120 feet wide. Transport wagons, artillery limbers, caissons, forges, baggage trains, and footslogging men in the ranks had to cope with these arduous, unfamiliar obstructions throughout their stay in Egypt.
Another result of relying on ancient maps was the failure to take into proper consideration the problem of sand dunes — and once encountering them, the best means of negotiating them — which played havoc with troops and transport from the moment they stepped ashore till they reached the very outskirts of Cairo.
Nor had resistance from local tribesmen and bedouins even occurred to Napoleon. He had believed his own propaganda that he was the friend of Islam and of the Egyptian fellahs, or peasants, and like them the enemy of the Turkish government under Mameluke rule. Expecting never to meet more than eight to ten thousand armed Mamelukes, and then in only one or two major battles, Napoleon instead encountered often-fierce armed resistance, even after areas had theoretically been secured. This included the canal route from Alexandria to Rahmaniya and later the river routes linking Cairo with Rosetta and Damietta, which were never made safe.
Any other military commander, under any other circumstances, within easy call of Paris, would not only have been removed immediately from his command but also court-martialed, if not shot, for such gross professional incompetence. But Napoleon was not at the beck and call of his superiors in Paris (where the government remained largely ignorant of his acts) and as Admiral Nelson had already put it, “the devil’s children have the devil’s luck.”
Meanwhile, despite his grievous head wound, General Kléber could still somehow command, at least for a few hours each day, before returning to his darkened room and bed. (His severe concussion and skull fracture would partially incapacitate him off and on for months to come.) With an acute shortage of seasoned senior officers, even badly wounded men had to remain on active duty. Nevertheless, appointed governor of Alexandria and of the surrounding province until he was fully recu
perated, and left in charge with some 6,500 troops, Klcber coped surprisingly well.
Napoleon had given his orders and was now ready to depart. Gen. Roger de Damas was to seize and fortify Abukir Bay and its small fort overlooking the French fleet and flotilla as they lay at anchor, while General Dugua was ordered to march to Rosetta, which Murat’s cavalry were to seize in an advance attack. With that objective achieved, another convalescing divisional general, Menou, would then take over as governor of both the province and port of Rosetta, releasing Dugua to rejoin Napoleon and the main force. As for Admiral Brueys, he was to dispatch several dozen gunboats and smaller craft with troops, supplies, and munitions, first to Rosetta and then up the Nile to accompany Napoleon, although the admiral’s battle fleet was to remain in Abukir Bay and “in such a manner as to be protected by the batteries that we establish there.”
Finally completing their landing on July 3-4 and reaching Alexandria, General Desaix’s and Reynier’s divisions were ordered by Bonaparte to serve as the advance units of the main body of the army on its march to Cairo. Preceding the rest of the army, they set out for Damanhur and Rahmaniya on the Nile, a position thirty-seven miles from Alexandria. Although a few pieces of artillery and some ammunition were being landed at last, the rest would not be available for many weeks to come, Bonaparte enjoining Desaix before setting out not to use his light artillery: “You must conserve it for the big day when we come up against four or five thousand enemy cavalry.”
Gen. Louis Desaix, an unusually good-humored and self-confident if slapdash commander, and his troop, had set out as ordered, but the unrelenting summer sun, reaching well above one hundred degrees daily, and the great humidity along the swamps and canals, ringed by salt marsh, briny lakes, sand dunes, and occasional clumps of date palms, proved physically and mentally enervating, sapping his men from the very start. To this were added sudden sporadic small bedouin attacks by screaming horsemen galloping out of nowhere, lunging and slashing at them with their scimitars or simply firing at them unseen from sand dunes and oases. Desaix’s men, without canteens and each carrying just a small amount of rations of food and ammunition, soon found even the initial stage of their march to Damanhur taxing, then downright depressing, troops soon falling out and even dying of thirst by the time they reached Birket, a distance of only about twenty miles.
There this advance guard, greatly on edge, had made camp that night amid clouds of mosquitoes and had fallen asleep when, as Brigadier General Belliard related in his eyewitness account, “a bizarre incident” occurred. In the middle of the night something or someone spooked the horses, all tethered in a line. An artillery horse broke loose and suddenly started galloping right through the darkened camp, amid the dying embers of the fires maintained by the sleeping pickets. The exhausted troops, waking suddenly, and without orders, grabbed their muskets and started firing wildly in all directions, the sudden uproar and chaos then causing the other horses to panic and break loose, stampeding through the camp, trampling men, then fleeing into the night. By the time that lamps were lit and the men reassembled in their bivouac areas by their equally groggy and bewildered officers, and calm restored, it was discovered that they had shot three or four of their own men and had lost more than one hundred badly needed horses. “I do not know what to attribute their fear and panic to,” Belliard confessed. “There must be someone here interested in stirring things up and spreading rumors. The troops are now so wrought up that if, during the night 25 or 30 Arabs attacked, I believe they would cause the entire division to stampede, so afraid of them are the men at this point.”
With General Reynier already marching to join Desaix on July 5, navy captain Perrée proceeded with several dozen boats to Rosetta, where on the following day General Dugua’s division (Kléber’s old division) was ordered to follow. That same day General Vial, temporarily heading Menou’s division, set out on foot for Cairo, followed late the next afternoon by General Bonaparte, his staff, and Bon’s division, over the well-trampled and dusty trail along the dried-up canal for Rahmaniya.
Many of the complaints registered by Belliard concerning the problems encountered by Desaix’s division as it marched painfully forward were echoed in the other four divisions, including Dugua’s, in which
within three hours of leaving Alexandria [for Rosetta], any semblance of marching order had disappeared. Scarcely one and a half miles from Alexandria one entered the desert, and by 10 A.M. the heat became so oppressive, and our thirst so great there amid the sand dunes, without water, that men were collapsing every step of the way...and later we were told that three had already died of thirst.
This continued all the way to Rosetta. The lack of water crippled every French column, the situation aggravated by the poisoned or destroyed wells and cisterns they encountered in the course of their march.
Meanwhile Murat’s and Damas’s dragoons, sent as an advance column to take Rosetta, had fared better, and Colonel Laugier’s spirits, like everyone else’s, eventually picked up on reaching that point. “We made our entry there at noon,” he recorded. “The city seemed pretty enough. All the inhabitants were standing before their houses, all the shops were open...[and] the sight of the Nile, as well as the large number of vessels there, excited us all. This spectacle was our first truly happy moment since arriving in Egypt.” And it was to prove one of the last. Rosetta was one of the few cities where tranquil gardens and fields lay undisturbed, the houses and shops of the people open, welcoming to the French.
With the arrival of the convalescing General Menou, who was to take command as military governor there, General Dugua then continued south with most of his division, up the Nile toward Cairo — some by land, some by boat — to rendezvous with General Bonaparte and the rest of the army, some thirty-three miles away at Rahmaniya.
Bonaparte and his staff, setting out just ahead of Bon’s division on July 7, reached Damanhur by 8:00 A.M. on the eighth, only to be greeted with one of the many tragic stories attending the invasion, this one regarding the mysterious death of Brigadier General Mireur. Though he had little training and less than nine years’ military experience, Mireur had risen quickly to the rank of brigadier. He had recently argued with Desaix about the folly of the whole expedition, insisting that they turn around. That evening he had wandered from camp at Damanhur, and his body was later found alone in the sand. Colonel Savary claimed that he had been killed by Arabs. But he had been found with his weapons, money, and uniform all intact, and Arabs always stripped and mutilated their victims. In fact, the despondent Mireur had ridden out into the desert, where he had shot himself in the head with his own pistol. It had to be hushed up, and in any event, showing neither compassion nor understanding, Napoleon was furious with this treacherous act of betrayal — an abandonment of himself and the army.
In the eyes of many, Damanhur, the army’s first major encampment after leaving Alexandria, seemed jinxed, boding ill for things to come — first stampeding horses, next Mireur’s tragic suicide, and then the case of one of Napoleon’s own aides-de-camp. While they were all settling in, some Arab horsemen somehow got through the pickets and approached Bonaparte himself, who immediately ordered his aide, Captain Croisier, to get some men together to chase them off. Leaping onto a horse, young Croisier quickly got fifteen guides together and attacked. During an exchange of gunfire, leaving Croisier in a weak position, Napoleon shouted out, “Get them, dammit! Charge!” but apparently Croisier was too cautious, and the Arabs escaped unharmed. “The General was beside himself with rage,” Bourrienne recalled, “and when Croisier returned, he abused him royally, giving him a real dressing-down,” all but accusing him of cowardice before the other officers and aides-de-camp. Reduced to tears, Croisier fled, later confiding to Bourrienne, “I shall not live this down. I am going to get myself killed. I cannot live dishonored in his eyes.”[186] Although Croisier was involved in every wild skirmish thereafter, death defied his daring for months to come, until he finally fell beneath the walls of Acre
the following year.
The fear of Arab attacks was real, their snipers and horsemen taking a heavy toll on the lengthening lines of French stragglers in particular, cutting their throats and stealing their few possessions. But apparently even more frightening for the French was the story now told by a few of the rare survivors of gang rape by Arabs, who sodomized the French before killing them. For the French — accustomed to raping the women and girls of conquered towns in Europe — this was shocking. When one soldier actually gave a firsthand report, Napoleon just brushed it off, laughing. He was alive, was he not, so what? But the raping and beheading of French stragglers continued all the way to Cairo; if nothing else it sometimes helped close up loose marching formations.
Meanwhile, on July 10, the first units of Desaix’s and Reynier’s divisions reached Rahmaniya, thereby completing the fifty-seven-mile trek from Alexandria to the Nile and the first leg of their march to Cairo.[187]
While Egyptian boats were sent down the Nile to Rosetta to help bring up troops and especially badly needed munitions and food, the French now encountered the first organized resistance by the Mamelukes. Some three hundred mounted “bedouin” (the French so misidentified them) followed and harassed them around Rahmaniya.[188] But even vicious saber attacks by enemy cavalry could not stifle the troops’ reaction to the first sight of water and the Nile. Brigadier Belliard described the men’s “cries of joy...everyone leaping with excitement” as, disregarding the orders of their officers, they broke rank, threw down their muskets and heavy packs, and leaped into the muddy water. “The soldiers simply threw themselves in, gulping water down like wild animals. In an instant the entire division was in the river, and a field of melon along the banks was soon devoured...I do believe that the most dangerous enemy we shall have to fight in Egypt is thirst,” he acknowledged.