By dint of heroic efforts Ermolov arrived at Borisov on 27 November, the very day that Napoleon and his Guards had crossed the Berezina 18 kilometres to the north near the village of Studenka. The Russian troops paid a high price for this speed. The Cossacks could usually forage off the road and turn up something to eat and the artillery carried some emergency rations in their caissons but life for the infantry was very hard. The Guards Jaegers had slept with a roof over their heads for one night in the last month. In their week-long march from the Dnieper to the Berezina they only twice received any biscuit. At every bivouac the men rootled for potatoes. Even they were hard to find and amidst the rush and exhaustion were often eaten raw.67
As for the Finland Guards, they did still have a little groats in their knapsacks but their kettles were with the regimental baggage and raw groats were inedible. The men survived by cutting the bark off the trees and turning it into impromptu cooking vessels. After stuffing the groats into the bark and heating this concoction up over a spluttering fire coaxed from damp wood, the Guardsmen wolfed down the whole ‘meal’, bark and all. Their reward for all these efforts was to arrive at the Berezina one day too late. The next morning the two Guards regiments crossed the river and were deployed in reserve behind Chichagov’s army, which was fighting Napoleon in the forests near the village of Brili. They spent the next two days up to their knees in snow and with no food at all. Not surprisingly, men fell ill in droves. Nevertheless the troops’ morale remained high. These Guardsmen were fine soldiers. Their spirits were buoyed by the fact that they were advancing and were clearly winning the war. Ermolov himself was an inspiring leader on the battlefield, just the man to get the last ounce of effort from Russian soldiers in an emergency.68
When he first arrived near Borisov on 22 November Chichagov had moved his headquarters and all his baggage across the river and into the town, which was on the east bank of the Berezina. Count Lambert had been wounded in the capture of the bridge, so Chichagov appointed Count Paul von der Pahlen to replace him. The next day Pahlen was sent forward down the main road. With Napoleon’s main body now linking up with Oudinot and Victor, and heading for Borisov, this was a dangerous move. Neither Chichagov nor Pahlen showed proper caution. Pahlen’s men were overwhelmed by Napoleon’s advance guard and fled back into Borisov. Chichagov and his staff decamped at speed back over the Berezina, leaving much of the army’s baggage behind. Subsequently this debacle was used by Chichagov’s enemies as a stick to beat him, but it was not actually very significant. Though much of Pahlen’s advance guard was cut off, almost all of it succeeded in making its way back across the Berezina by finding fords. Four days later Borisov and most of Chichagov’s baggage was recaptured by Wittgenstein. Above all, the Russians succeeded in burning the crucial bridge at Borisov so the river was still an obstacle for Napoleon.
Back on the west bank of the Berezina, Chichagov faced a difficult dilemma. It was impossible to coordinate operations even with Wittgenstein on the other side of the river, let alone with Kutuzov, who was still far away near the Dnieper. The defence of the Berezina line therefore rested in the admiral’s hands alone. Chichagov had, at most, 32,000 men, of whom only half were infantry. If he could be sure that Napoleon was heading north-west for Vilna, all Chichagov needed to cover was the 20 kilometres between Borisov and the ford at Veselovo, opposite the village of Zembin. The problem was that Napoleon might cross the river south of Borisov and head westwards for Minsk, or even march via Igumen for Bobruisk, well to the south. These possibilities hugely extended the river front which Chichagov had to cover, up to 100 kilometres or more. Napoleon pretended to be making preparations to head for Minsk by building a bridge at Ukholoda, 12 kilometres south of Borisov. In fact, however, he crossed at Studenka, 18 kilometres north of Borisov, and headed for Vilna.69
As often happens in war, amidst all the strains and the conflicting intelligence Chichagov believed the evidence that best fitted his own assumptions and fears. The admiral’s greatest worry was that Napoleon was heading for Minsk to recapture the huge store there on which Chichagov’s own army now depended. At Minsk he could link up with Schwarzenberg, whom Chichagov believed to be advancing towards the Berezina into the rear of the Russian forces. To do Chichagov justice, most of the other senior Russian commanders believed both that Napoleon would head for Minsk or Bobruisk, and that this would be the most dangerous move from the Russian perspective. On 22 November, for instance, Kutuzov had written to Chichagov warning him that if Napoleon could not cross the Berezina he might well head south. Clausewitz, now at Wittgenstein’s headquarters, recalls that ‘every man was possessed with the idea, that the enemy would take the direction of Bobruisk’.70
Perhaps the most striking evidence comes from Ermolov’s memoirs. When he finally reached Chichagov’s headquarters on 29 November, the admiral was still trying to send Platov’s Cossacks around Napoleon’s flank and into his rear in order to destroy the bridges and causeways that crossed the swamps at Zembin and opened the way to Vilna. Ermolov responded that this was unwise: ‘If Napoleon found it impossible to pass through Zembin, his only possibility was to seize the road to Minsk, where he would find abundant stores of every kind (which supplied our own army and other forces) and be able to rest his army, having drawn reinforcements from Lithuania and restored order there.’ If the highly intelligent Ermolov, who had been an eyewitness to the disintegration of Napoleon’s army for the last month, thought this way, then it is hardly surprising that Wittgenstein and Chichagov did so too.71
Hoodwinked by Napoleon, Chichagov took most of his army southwards on 25 November to Shabashevichi to cover the road to Minsk. He left Count Langeron with one weak infantry division in Borisov, but ordered Major-General Chaplitz to abandon his position opposite Studenka and bring his detachment to join Langeron. By the time he received these orders Chaplitz’s scouts had already provided him with clear indications that Napoleon was preparing bridges for a crossing at Studenka. Nevertheless in the face of categorical orders from both Chichagov and Langeron he marched south, to the joy of French observers on the opposite side of the river. He also failed to destroy the bridges and causeways through the swamps near Zembin. The narrow defile at Zembin was in fact the best defensive position available to any Russian force which was trying to stop Napoleon breaking out to Vilna. If the bridges and causeways had been destroyed, a single division at Zembin might have held up the whole French army. Even if Chaplitz had destroyed the causeway and bridges and then departed, rebuilding them would have delayed Napoleon’s escape for at least a day.72
On the morning of 26 November French cavalry swam across the Berezina at Studenka and 400 light infantry crossed on rafts. The building of the two bridges began. On the opposite shore Napoleon was faced by a puny force of two jaeger regiments, a smattering of cavalry and one horse artillery battery positioned near the village of Brili. The battery’s commander was Captain Ivan Arnoldi, one of the best young artillery officers in the Russian army, who already had a fine war record in 1806– 7 and was to retire as a full general. In his memoirs Arnoldi states that even if the Russian forces opposite Studenka had been much stronger, they still could not have stopped Napoleon crossing the river. The east bank was higher than the west and it was possible to deploy all Napoleon’s batteries in a commanding position. The west bank, on the contrary, was low-lying, very swampy and forested: it was impossible to deploy more than a very few guns there within range of the river and the bridges.73
On the other hand, if thousands of Russian infantry had been present they might have been able to keep Napoleon pinned in the bridgehead and away from the road from Borisov to Zembin, and they certainly could have blocked the defile at Zembin. The tiny Russian force present on 26 November had no chance of doing either of these things. Commanded by Marshal Oudinot, the French forced their way out of the bridgehead and then turned south down the road towards the village of Stakhovo. By the time Chaplitz had returned with his whole detachment he was outnumbered.
Chichagov and the core of his army did not reach the area until the evening of 27 November and only went into action the next day. By then, however, all but Napoleon’s rearguard had already crossed the Berezina. Though there was fierce fighting near Stakhovo from 26 to 28 November there was never any likelihood that the Russian forces would break through the enemy line and regain control of the road to Zembin. Napoleon had more infantry than the Russians on the west bank, the terrain favoured the defensive and his troops fought with the desperate courage that their perilous situation required.74
Meanwhile there was also fierce fighting on the east bank of the Berezina as Peter Wittgenstein’s corps came into action against Marshal Victor’s rearguard. Wittgenstein showed little initiative during these crucial days, though his troops were much less exhausted than Kutuzov’s men. It was hard to recognize the daring general of the summer months. Perhaps Wittgenstein was unenthusiastic about coming under Chichagov’s command, or was made cautious by the fact that Napoleon was present in person. He followed Victor down the road to Borisov, claiming – perhaps correctly – that the country paths leading directly into Napoleon’s rear at Studenka were impassable. Having reached Borisov on 27 November, Wittgenstein did then turn to the north towards Studenka to interrupt Napoleon’s crossing of the Berezina. More by luck than good design, this move cut off General Partouneaux, whose division was forced to surrender. Seven thousand men went into captivity, though of these half were by now stragglers rather than fighting soldiers. During the whole of 28 November Wittgenstein fought the rest of Victor’s corps which was forming a rearguard around the bridgehead at Studenka, but he got only 14,000 of his men into action. Though the Russian artillery did dreadful damage to the hordes of people trying to cross the river, the Russians could not break through the outnumbered but courageous enemy rearguard, which held them at bay all day and then made its escape safely over the bridges.75
They left behind a vision of desolation. Ermolov recalled the scene on the east bank of the Berezina after the end of the battle:
Near the bridges, which were partially destroyed, guns and transport wagons had fallen into the river. Crowds of people, including many women, children and infants, had moved down to the ice-covered river. Nobody could escape from the terrible frost. No one could ever witness a more terrible sight. The people who ended their miseries there and then by dying were the lucky ones. Those who remained alive envied them. Much less fortunate, they had preserved their lives only subsequently to die of the cruel cold, amidst terrible suffering…The river was covered with ice which was as transparent as glass: there were many dead bodies visible beneath it across the whole width of the river. The enemy had abandoned huge numbers of guns and wagons. The treasures of ransacked Moscow had also not succeeded in getting across the river.76
At one level the crossing of the Berezina was a disaster for Napoleon. He had lost somewhere between 25,000 and 40,000 men, and almost all his artillery and baggage. Even his Old Guard was now down to 2,000 men. His last viable corps, commanded by marshals Victor and Oudinot, were now barely capable of further action. Had Napoleon held the bridge at Borisov or had the Berezina been firmly frozen the great majority of these casualties would have been avoided.
Nevertheless he had every reason for satisfaction on 29 November. Outnumbered, surrounded and faced with the threat of total destruction, he had escaped. Above all, this was thanks to the splendid courage of his remaining troops and the resolution of their commanders. It is also true that even at the Berezina Napoleon possessed some advantages. His forces were concentrated, they were in the middle of the Russians and they were directed by a single will. Nature as well as human failures made coordination between the Russian armies difficult. When one looks at the perceptions and actions of the individual Russian commanders, it is almost always possible to see some logic to their behaviour and to sympathize with their dilemmas. Nevertheless, taken as a whole, the miscalculations, lack of resolution and the selfishness of the Russian senior generals had allowed more of Napoleon’s army to escape than should have been the case.
For many Russians, and above all for Alexander, the chief cause of discontent was that Napoleon himself had escaped. This feeling, though natural, was misplaced. It was always in Napoleon’s power to ride up the east bank of the Berezina and then cut across country towards Vilna. At Studenka he still had more than sufficient well-horsed cavalry to provide him with a strong escort. On his route to Vilna he would have had to be very unlucky to encounter a Cossack detachment sufficiently large and determined to challenge such an escort.
Much less probable and more annoying was the escape of many thousands of Napoleon’s troops. At first blush this might not seem a serious matter. More than half the men who escaped over the Berezina died or were taken prisoner amidst the fearful cold of the next three weeks. Fewer than 20,000 men survived to serve again in Napoleon’s armies. But 2,500 officers just from the Guards and the corps of Davout, Ney and Eugène escaped back over the Russian frontier. They included most of the senior commanders and many of their staff officers. Had they been captured at the Berezina it would have been very difficult for Napoleon to rebuild a new Grande Armée in time to defend Germany in the spring of 1813. The huge Russian sacrifices of the next year’s campaign might thereby have been avoided. Moreover, had Napoleon’s army been captured at the Berezina, the Russians could have gone into winter quarters, without the heavy losses incurred in the pursuit of the enemy across Lithuania in December 1812.77
After the drama on the Berezina, the last weeks of the 1812 campaign are an anticlimax, though this is a poor word to describe seventeen days of immense suffering. Everything that French apologists say about the weather in December 1812 is true. Even by the standards of a Russian December, it was exceptionally cold. This caused the final disintegration of most French units. On 5 December Napoleon himself left the army and headed for Paris, leaving Murat in charge. By then nothing and no one could have rallied the French army east of the Russian border and Napoleon was right to depart. On 11 December Vilna fell to the Russians. Three days later Matvei Platov’s Cossacks captured Kovno, Michel Ney led his indomitable rearguard back across the river Neman and the 1812 campaign was over.
During these weeks the Russian army also suffered grievously. On 19 December Kutuzov reported to Alexander that the army’s losses had been so enormous that he was obliged to hide them not just from the enemy but even from his own officers. Of the 97,000 men whom Kutuzov had commanded at Tarutino before the beginning of the campaign, 48,000 – in other words almost half – were in hospital. Only 42,000 soldiers were still in the ranks. The position of Chichagov and Wittgenstein’s armies was better but not good. The admiral had 17,000 men in the ranks, plus 7,000 more who had finally arrived from Oertel’s corps. Peter Wittgenstein still commanded 35,000 men, which reflected the fact that his men had been better fed and clothed than the rest of the army and had also marched less far. But most Russian regiments by now were hungry and exhausted, with their uniforms in tatters and dressed in any clothes they could find to keep out the cold. One young staff officer described himself as wearing a soldier’s overcoat, with sleeves badly charred by bivouac fires, boots whose soles were coming off, headgear which combined a soldier’s forage cap and a woollen civilian hood, and a tunic with no buttons but held together by a French sword-belt.78
As they advanced into freezing, barren and devastated Lithuania cold and hunger hit Kutuzov’s troops hard. So too did another enemy: typhus. The disease was rampant among the prisoners of war whom the Russians were capturing in droves and it spread quickly. ‘Its distinguishing features were: exhaustion, loss of appetite, nausea, total weakening of the muscular system, dry heat of the skin and an unbearable thirst.’ Against the disease the regimental doctors used quinine, camphor and emetics so long as their medicines lasted. As the intendant-general, Georg Kankrin, subsequently admitted, however, of all the backup services provided by the Russian commissariat medical help was the weakest
. That owed something to the new and confused administration of hospitals, and more to the shortage of trained doctors and hospital administrators. So long as the army was operating in the Great Russian provinces it could hand over care of its sick and wounded to the governors, but once it moved into Belorussian and Lithuanian districts formerly occupied by Napoleon no civilian institutions existed. Many Russian doctors and officials themselves fell ill. The rest were scattered along the army’s line of advance, desperately trying to establish hospitals in a wilderness.79
Kankrin wrote that his officials,
themselves barely alive, were forced almost every other day to establish hospitals in ruined areas, in the midst of extreme cold and deprived of almost any help. There was a complete shortage of experienced officials. We took anyone who fell into our hands, grateful for being able to find any officials for this job. The man chosen was given the regulations, some money, open orders to the local administration requiring them to assist him, and a small staff. This was all the help one got in setting up a hospital, together whenever possible with some biscuit and groats, a few beef-cattle and some spirits.
Nevertheless, wrote Kankrin, the majority of the men in hospital did recover and rejoin the army, ‘which on the one hand shows the toughness of Russian soldiers but also shows that they were given some care’.80
On 13 December Kutuzov reported to Alexander that unless his army got a rest it might disappear entirely and have to be rebuilt from scratch. Any commander would dread such a possibility, but a Russian general had more reason than most to protect the professional and veteran cadre around which the army was built. Men with the education and willingness to serve as officers were not that plentiful. Highly skilled cadres who could serve in the engineers, artillery or staffs were much rarer still. Above all, the emperor’s army was not the nation in arms. Its strength lay in the great loyalty of its veterans to their comrades and regiments. Destroy these men and these loyalties, and the army would become worse than a mere militia. The inner force which made this army so formidable and resilient would be undermined. In the winter of 1812 this came too close to happening for Kutuzov’s comfort. In fact the army’s core survived, large numbers of veterans subsequently returned from hospital, and around this cadre a fine new army was rebuilt in 1813. But it was not really until the summer of 1813 that it recovered from the awful strains of the 1812 campaign and regained its full potential.81
Russia Against Napoleon: The True Story of the Campaigns of War and Peace Page 37