The Generals r-2

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘My officer sends his compliments, sir, and begs to inform you that the enemy have completed their change of facing.They have also fortified the village of Assaye with batteries and some rough earthworks.’

  ‘That was quick,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Their commander knows his stuff. He’s trained them well.’

  ‘Yes,’ Arthur conceded. ‘But they’ll be no match for our men when the fighting starts.’ He turned back to the dragoon. ‘Was there any sign of movement from their battle line?’

  ‘No, sir. They were holding their ground when I left the picket.’

  ‘Good.’ Arthur nodded. ‘Then we still hold the initiative.You can return to your squadron now. Well done.’

  The dragoon smiled with pride and raised his hand to salute. Then there was a wet crack and Arthur’s face was sprayed with warm fluid and what felt like lumps of mud. He instinctively wiped the mess away with his gloved hand and saw a thick red smear on the beige leather.

  ‘Christ Almighty!’ Fitzroy exclaimed.

  Arthur looked up and saw that the dragoon was still sitting bolt upright in his saddle. Only his head was gone, and jets of blood spurted up from the tattered flesh at the stump of his neck. An enemy cannon ball had smashed it off and sprayed blood, brains and bone across the jackets and faces of Arthur and his staff. The man’s last spasm had alarmed his horse and it pranced skittishly, until, at last, the body slumped to one side and toppled from the saddle. Arthur recovered from the shock first and glanced at the frozen expressions of those around him.

  ‘Anyone else hurt?’

  His staff officers hurriedly checked themselves, but they were uninjured and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. ‘A freak shot, gentlemen. Nothing more. We must continue with our duties as calmly as possible, please. Do not unnerve our men.They already have enough to concern them.’

  As soon as the infantry and artillery were across, Arthur ordered two companies of sepoys to defend the village on the north bank of the Kaitna and sent a message to Maxwell to bring his cavalry across the river to join the rest of the army. The Mysore cavalry was to be left to counter the Mahratta horsemen on the southern side of the river, in case they made any attempt to attack the rear of the British army. Then Arthur rode forward to make sure that his infantry line was ready to advance. The regular battalions were positioned on the flanks with the Company soldiers formed up in the middle, with cannon filling the gaps between the battalions, which now stood in two lines. Before he gave the order to advance Arthur rode forward with Fitzroy on to the slight rise in the ground that stood between the two armies. From there Arthur could see that the neck of land between the Kaitna and the Juah became wider as the two rivers diverged. Which was just as well, he reflected, as he looked towards Assaye and saw that it was ringed with cannon, and its crude walls were packed with enemy soldiers.Any English troops who ventured within range of Assaye were bound to be mauled and Arthur determined to make it clear to his unit commanders that they were to stay well clear of Assaye in the coming attack. The enemy line had finished its manoeuvre and now stood ready to receive the British attack.

  ‘It seems that I have underestimated Scindia’s professional soldiers,’ Arthur commented wryly. ‘This is going to be a bloody action.We’ll keep our left flank close to the Kaitna as we advance. That will leave only the right flank to cover. Maxwell can manage that.’

  A distant rumble and rattle drew their attention to a dozen British guns being hauled into position opposite the enemy line.

  ‘About time,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Now they can have a taste of their own medicine.’

  But even as the artillery crews urged their draught bullocks forward the Mahratta gunners were shifting their aim from the ford and a moment later the first rounds landed around the limbered British guns and their crews, chewing up the soil in small explosions of earth and grass.

  ‘They’re using grapeshot,’ Fitzroy observed.

  An instant later the enemy gunners hit their first target as the leading pair of a team of bullocks shuddered under the impact of the heavy lead balls and collapsed dead in their traces, bringing the rest to an abrupt halt. Two more guns were knocked out before the British could reply and it was clear to Arthur that any intention he had of destroying the enemy artillery before his infantry advanced was doomed to failure. The Mahratta artillery crews knew their business well and were firing almost as fast as the remaining British guns. It was clearly a desperately unequal exchange and as chain shot shattered the wheels of yet another of his guns, Arthur realised that the time had come for his infantry to advance into the teeth of the enemy fire.

  ‘Give the order for the artillery to withdraw.’

  As Fitzroy spurred his mount over to the guns Arthur turned the bay back to his waiting infantry and rode down the line giving his orders to each battalion commander in turn to make certain they knew exactly what was expected of them. The officer commanding the pickets on the right flank, Colonel Orrock, was a florid-faced Company veteran. As Arthur explained about the danger of approaching too close to Assaye he was certain he smelled spirits on the man’s breath. But there was no time to upbraid the man and once Orrock confirmed that he understood his orders Arthur rode on to the other battalions, finally taking up position behind the kilted Scotsmen of the 78th on the left flank. He nodded to Colonel Harness and the latter bellowed the order to advance, and the rest of the line followed suit, tramping up the slight rise in echelon.

  As the line reached the crest the British regiments had their first sight of the dense mass of the enemy line waiting for them five hundred yards away. The Mahratta guns stood a short distance in front of the infantry, spread across the ground from the Kaitna to Assaye. The survivors of the first guns Arthur had sent forward had lost most of their horses and bullocks and could not join the advance. Arthur knew that meant that all he had available to him now was a handful of the guns assigned directly to the regular battalions.

  The fire of the enemy guns slackened for a moment as they saw the approaching line of redcoats, and then flame-stabbed smoke rippled along the line again. Some shot went high, ripping through the air close overhead; some fell short and ripped up the ground ahead of the British infantry. But those that were on target cut bloody paths through the British line, which were hurriedly closed up as the battalions continued forward at the same measured pace.The air was filled with the booming roar of cannon and the whirr of iron shot passing close by, and still Arthur’s men did not flinch, but advanced with stolid determination towards the enemy guns. Then, at sixty paces, Colonel Harness ordered his men to halt and make ready to fire. Just ahead of them the Mahrattas, with equal courage and discipline, still worked their guns, firing into the British line at point-blank range.

  Primed and cocked, the British muskets rose up, aiming at the gun crews.

  ‘Fire!’ Harness shouted.

  There was a deafening crash and a blanket of greasy smoke blossomed in front of the 78th and at once the muskets were lowered as the Scotsmen drew another cartridge from their pouches, bit off the ball and tipped the powder into their muzzles, together with the waxed paper, spat the ball in after and packed the lot down firmly with their ramrods. Pans primed, they raised their muskets again and Harness cried out the order to unleash another volley.

  Even as the sound of the last shot died away, Harness called for his men to fix bayonets and advance. Arthur rode forward with them, through the swirling smoke, emerging to see that the guns directly in front of the 78th had almost all been silenced. Miraculously, two full crews still remained, and still stood by their weapons, loading another round of grapeshot. As soon as he saw them, Harness increased the pace and the redcoats with their feathered bonnets and flapping kilts charged home. The Mahrattas snatched up their ramrods, handspikes and any other weapons that were to hand and threw themselves at the British. Despite their courage, the fight was over in a moment and the gunners lay where they had fallen around and under their cannon.

  ‘The 78th will re-for
m and reload!’ Harness yelled, and his men quickly closed up to face the block of enemy infantry behind the guns, barely more than a hundred yards away.The din of their shouted war cries and beaten drums contrasted sharply with the cool silence of the British ranks.

  To his right, Arthur saw the battalion of sepoys halt to fire a volley at the gun crews in front of them and then they too charged home with the bayonet. Meanwhile, as the 78th began to advance again, the enemy infantry raised their muskets and fired a volley. The range was long and most shots missed, but some found their mark and men spun round and collapsed under the impact, before tumbling on to the trampled grass. Arthur felt the bay lurch beneath him and begin to topple to one side. Instantly he dropped the reins, kicked his feet free of the stirrups and threw himself clear just before the horse hit the ground and rolled over.The impact drove the breath from his lungs and for a moment he crouched on hands and knees, gasping for air.

  ‘Sir!’ A hand lifted him under the arm and pulled him up.‘Are you hurt?’

  Arthur waved his hand as he struggled to breathe. ‘Fine . . . Just winded.’

  He glanced round and saw that it was the young grenadier officer who had carried the bastion at Ahmadnagar, Lieutenant Campbell. ‘Thank you, Campbell. Now, my hat, if you please.’

  The officer plucked it from the ground and handed it to Arthur. ‘I need to re-join my men, sir.’

  ‘By all means.’

  Campbell trotted forward a few paces to catch up with his men just as Harness halted the 78th fifty paces from the enemy and calmly called out the order to fire another volley, as if it was just another parade ground exercise.

  ‘Fire!’

  The volley thundered out and a withering storm of lead slashed through the Mahratta troops so that most of the men in the front line went down. This time there was no second volley and Harness immediately followed up with the order to charge with the bayonet. The enemy, having already witnessed the slaughter of the artillery crews, shuffled back several paces, and then the first of them turned to run, and in moments the panic was contagious and they broke and ran. With a roar of triumph the 78th ran after them, bayoneting the few who were brave enough to stand their ground.

  As he caught his breath Arthur looked to the right and saw the sepoy battalion next in line charge home, and the panic from those men who had fled from the 78th communicated itself along the line so that those opposite the sepoys also broke and fled before the redcoats. Arthur felt a moment’s satisfaction at the sight of his plan bearing fruit. No native unit in India could have withstood the large, fierce men of the 78th, and once they broke Scindia’s line the other units had collapsed, just as Arthur had hoped they would. He turned to look for the groom who had been told to follow his general at a discreet distance with a remount. The man had already seen the bay fall and was trotting forward, leading Diomed by the reins. Retrieving his pistols, sabre and telescope from the dead bay, Arthur climbed into the saddle and ordered the groom to return to Maxwell’s reserve regiment of native cavalry.

  From the vantage point of the saddle Arthur could see that Harness had managed to recall his men and the 78th was once again forming up as it waited for further orders. The Company officers were having less luck with their men who, having broken the Mahratta line, were excitedly running down and killing their enemies. For nearly a thousand yards the enemy line was destroyed and the ground between the two rivers was covered with figures streaming away from the British regulars and sepoys. To Arthur’s delight he estimated that thirty or forty guns had been captured. Without artillery, Scindia’s power would be broken and the best he could hope for was a war of brigandage against his British opponents.

  Beyond the fleeing enemy Arthur noticed several large groups of Mahratta cavalry riding forward, heedlessly knocking aside their fleeing compatriots on the ground. He looked round and saw that the two four-pounders allocated to the 78th were trundling up a short way behind the regiment.Turning Diomed, he rode over to the officer in charge of the guns.

  ‘See those horsemen approaching? I want you to unlimber just ahead of the 78th and fire grape into any body of horsemen who venture within range, understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ The Company officer saluted and turned to urge his contractors to goad the bullocks forward at a faster pace as the guns bumped across the uneven ground behind the limber. Once they were in position the crews quickly unhitched the trails, manhandled the guns round towards the advancing enemy horsemen and loaded with grapeshot. The first gun fired with a loud crack and the ground close to the nearest body of Mahratta horsemen was torn up. At once they stopped, wheeled their mounts round and galloped away until they were well out of range.

  But even as Arthur began to feel that victory was firmly in his grasp the air reverberated with a sudden furious barrage of cannon fire from the direction of Assaye. His stomach clenched in anxiety. His orders had been clear enough: the place was to be avoided, yet there was no mistaking the direction of the cannonade. He spurred Diomed forward and rode to the sound of the guns.To his left the officers of the Company battalions had finally reined in their men and were forming them up to wait for new orders. In front and to the right of Arthur the ground was strewn with the bodies of Scindia’s men, together with a sprinkling of redcoats, a clear sign that Arthur’s confidence in the training, discipline and courage of his troops was not misplaced. He smiled as he took a moment’s pride in what had been achieved. Then his expression hardened as he reached the right flank of the British line and came across scores of redcoats sprawled across the bloodied ground; torn to pieces by grape and chain shot from the guns around Assaye.

  It was clear what had happened. Some fool had blundered towards the village instead of closing on the main body of Scindia’s troops. With a sinking sensation he recalled Orrock’s appearance a little earlier on, when he had given the man his orders. It was too late to berate the man now; the damage was done. Looking around Arthur realised that hundreds of men had been cut down before the village. The survivors of Orrock’s pickets, and the 74th, which had been following him, had formed a square to protect them from the Mahratta cavalry that had charged from the enemy positions around Assaye, emboldened by the carnage their gunners had wrought on the British formations. The redcoats had held their own, firing volleys into the horsemen that swirled around them, all the time adding to the bodies of men and horses heaped about them. But already the Mahratta commanders were trying to gather their men in, ready to advance against the British flank from the direction of Assaye. Arthur saw the danger at once.

  Five hundred yards behind the 74th’s square Maxwell’s cavalry stood formed and ready to charge. Arthur saw that Maxwell and his staff were advanced a hundred yards ahead of their men.There was not a moment to lose. Arthur snatched his hat from his head and waved it frantically from side to side to attract Maxwell’s attention. Then one of the staff officers edged his mount alongside Maxwell and pointed in Arthur’s direction. Arthur waited a moment until he was certain that his cavalry commander had seen him, and then drew his sabre and thrust it in the direction of the enemy forming up around Assaye. For a moment he was not sure that Maxwell had understood, and then the shrill notes of a trumpet carried across the battlefield and the dragoons and native cavalry eased forward into a trot, slowly gathering pace as they swept across the ground, bypassing the cheering men of the 74th, and then charged the horsemen and guns around Assaye. All along the line glinting steel glittered in the late afternoon sun as they drew their sabres and spurred their mounts into a full gallop to close the final gap between them and the Mahrattas. They were bigger men and far better mounted than their enemy, and the impetus of the charge shattered the Mahratta forces around Assaye. The men of Maxwell’s three regiments slashed about them as they carved a path through the enemy formations, striking down gunners, horsemen and the infantry at the other end of Scindia’s battle line.

  It was an impressive enough sight, Arthur reflected, but he knew all too well that the same s
pirit that made men choose to join the cavalry made them live for precisely this moment: the mad gallop at the enemy, the shattering of his formations and then the thrill of the pursuit afterwards. Even as he watched, the British cavalry swept on through the flank of Scindia’s army, scattering their enemies who turned to flee across the Juah river. Maxwell and his men were carried away by their success and charged on after them, across the river, leaving the battlefield.

  Arthur’s relief at the impact of their charge abruptly turned to frustration and anger. The army was small enough as it was without a significant part of it losing their heads and charging off when they were most needed by their general. As he rode up to the 74th his anger was interrupted by a distant cannon shot from the rear of the British position. He reined in and turned to look. Some of the enemy cannon had been recaptured by Mahratta gunners and they were now firing at the 74th.

  ‘How the hell . . .’ Arthur began before he realised they must have been feigning death when the British line swept over them. Some Mahratta horsemen had also managed to work their way round the right flank, no longer covered by Maxwell’s cavalry, and were helping to serve Scindia’s guns. As Arthur looked, another gun fired, and this time the shot was true and cut down two men at the corner of the square as it tore through their chests and flung the bloody remnants at the feet of their comrades.

  There were only two formations ready for action, Arthur realised. The 78th and the 7th Native cavalry in the reserve. He turned Diomed about and galloped back across the field of bodies to Colonel Harness.

  ‘We have enemy to the rear!’Arthur gestured back towards the guns.