‘Permission granted!’ Napoleon laughed. He strode forward and clasped Ney’s arms. ‘My God, it is a fine thing to see you again. How on earth did you manage it?’
‘A moment, if you please, sire.’ Ney turned back to his column and drew a deep breath. ‘Rearguard . . . Fall out! Get some food and some rest. You’ve earned it!’
The men broke ranks and filed past Napoleon and the two marshals. Despite their bearing as they approached the town Napoleon could clearly see that they were at the end of their endurance. Ravaged by hunger and exhaustion, their eyes were sunken in dark sockets and their cheeks looked pinched as they walked stiffly over the bridge. The guardsmen cheered them as they entered the town, embracing their comrades and shoving their own meagre rations into the newcomers’ hands.
‘Just over nine hundred of them,’ Ney said quietly as they passed by. ‘All that’s left of my corps and those that joined them at Smolensk.’
‘What happened?’ asked Berthier.
‘We were pursued most of the way by Cossacks. At first we drove them off with musket fire, but two days ago we were down to three rounds a man. I had no choice but to close up and form square. We halted for the night, and they kept coming at us, racing in from the shadows to pick us off a few at a time. There was no chance to sleep, so I got the square moving. We marched through the night, and the whole of yesterday, under attack nearly all the time. I had to leave the wounded behind. I would have ordered them to be shot, but we needed the ammunition. The Cossacks only broke off towards dusk. We rested for the night in what was left of a village then started marching again at first light. Haven’t seen a single Cossack since yesterday. Don’t know why they let us go, but thank Christ they did. We’re down to our last few rounds.’
Napoleon stroked his chin. ‘They let you go because they had orders to get ahead of the main column. They’ll be making for Borisov. At least that’s my guess.’ He looked up at Ney again and could not help smiling again. ‘I knew that I had not seen the last of you. I knew it.’
‘Well.’ Ney shrugged.‘I have to say that I had my doubts.’ He unslung his musket and stared at the weapon. ‘It’s been quite a while since I last fought as a ranker. Here!’ He thrust the musket towards one of the last of the soldiers crossing the bridge. ‘Take this for me.’
‘Yes, sir!’
As the soldier hobbled on Napoleon punched Ney lightly on the shoulder. ‘Marshal Michel Ney, Duke of Elchingen, I shall have to find a new title for you. But for now one will have to suffice. Ney, the bravest of the brave.’
Ney nodded his approval and then rubbed his hands together briskly. ‘I thank you, sire, but right now I am Ney, the coldest of the cold. Where’s the nearest bottle of brandy?’
Chapter 36
The skies cleared as the army marched out of Orsha and made for Borisov. For the first time in days the sun shone and the temperature rose above freezing. Meltwater dripped from the trees and the surface of the road gradually turned to slush that made the going a little easier for the soldiers and remaining horses of the army. The men’s mood was lifted by the escape of Ney and his rearguard. After all, if they had survived their predicament and fought their way through the Russians, then there was something to hope for.
The army made its way across open farmland towards the Berezina without sighting any Cossacks on either flank, or behind them. For the first time in weeks, Napoleon was beginning to think that the worst was over. Marshal Victor and Marshal Oudinot had advanced from Vilna and joined the army with twenty thousand fresh soldiers and a convoy of supplies.
Then, towards the end of the second day’s march, a dragoon came galloping up to Berthier with a despatch from the cavalry screen, some fifteen miles ahead. Berthier quickly read the message as his horse walked along and then trotted forward to Napoleon’s side.
‘Sire, the scouts sighted Borisov at noon.’
‘Is the way clear?’
‘No, sire.’
‘The Russians have taken the town?’
‘Worse than that. They’ve burned the bridges and have dug into the far bank.’
Napoleon reined in and took the slip of paper from Berthier to read it through for himself. Then he handed it back with a heavy heart. ‘We needed those crossings.’
‘Yes, sire.’
A hearty cheer interrupted their conversation as the remains of a battalion from Oudinot’s corps marched past. Napoleon turned to them with a smile and raised his hand in greeting. The smile dropped at once as he turned back to Berthier.‘We keep marching towards the Berezina. The army is too weak to divert north or south. We must halt while an alternative crossing place is found. There’s a village called Loshnitsa less than a day’s march from the river, I recall. Give orders for the vanguard to halt there.’ Berthier nodded. ‘I’m riding ahead to see for myself. I’ll join you at Loshnitsa.’
Escorted by one of the few remaining squadrons of Guards cavalry, Napoleon spurred his horse forward. They passed the Imperial Guard at the head of the column and then followed the road west. The thaw had brought some of the peasants out of their huts to replenish their stocks of firewood. As soon as they saw the small column of distant horsemen they ran for cover. There was still no sign of the Cossacks and as night fell Napoleon rode on until they came up to one of the cavalry patrols observing the distant fires of the Russian soldiers on the far side of the river.
Napoleon dismounted as the colonel in charge of the dragoons made his report. ‘The enemy has invested the town, sire. Must be upwards of five thousand men. We’ve seen more of them up and downstream, patrolling the far bank.’The colonel turned to point to the north where a dim glow reflected off some low clouds scudding in from the east. ‘See that? Camp fires. But there’s no knowing how many of them are over there, sire.’
Napoleon nodded, then looked closely at the colonel. ‘What regiment do you command?’
‘Regiment?’ The colonel looked surprised. Then he smiled ruefully. ‘Sire, I command all that is left of Nansouty’s cavalry corps. All the remaining horses have been allocated to the dragoons. All two hundred of us.’
Napoleon struggled to hide his shock as he glanced round at the handful of pitiful-looking mounts that were tethered to the back of a small hut where the colonel’s men were sheltering for the night.‘Where are the rest of your men?’
‘I have one troop to the south and one close to the bank to observe Borisov. The other two troops are scouting the river to the north, looking for any crossing points.’
‘Good work.’ Napoleon nodded towards the shed where a welcoming glow lit the door frame. ‘I will spend the night with you.’
‘Sire, we’d be honoured.’
Napoleon turned to the commander of the Guards squadron.‘You’re dismissed. Find some shelter for you and your men, then report back here in the morning.’
The officer saluted and then wearily ordered his men to follow him as he trotted off into the darkness.
‘That’s the situation, gentlemen,’ Napoleon concluded as he ended the briefing of his senior officers in the dacha on the outskirts of Loshnitsa. ‘The cavalry patrols have scouted thirty miles upstream and every bridge and ford is defended by Russian guns and infantry. They also report that the recent thaw has caused the ice on the Berezina to break up.’ He paused. ‘We have to consider our options.’
He sat back and waited for his officers to respond. There was silence for a moment before Davout spoke for them.
‘I will say what is on all our minds, then. The choice is between a long march to the north, until we can cut round the upper reaches of the Berezina, or negotiating an armistice with the Russians. It is more than likely that the Tsar will deny us an armistice. He will want nothing less than a full surrender of the Grand Army.’ Davout nodded towards the Emperor. ‘Sire, if that happens, then it is vital that you are not taken prisoner along with the rest of the army. I must ask if you have made any plans to escape in the event of a surrender?’
There was a
silence as Napoleon looked round at his officers, men he had known for years. He nodded. ‘I have considered the possibility, but not the precise details.’
‘Then might I urge you to think on it?’ Davout insisted.
‘Very well.’ Napoleon stirred and sat up. ‘I don’t think there is anything else to be said, gentlemen. I bid you good night. Oh, and Davout . . .’
‘Sire?’
‘It seems you were right about the pontoon bridges. I was wrong to give the order for them to be burned.’
‘I know.’ Davout nodded. ‘Good night, sire.’
When the last of the officers had left the shuttered drawing room a sentry closed the door. Berthier remained seated at the table, having returned to his routine of updating the dwindling figures from the strength returns in his notebooks. Napoleon twisted one of the silver buttons on his greatcoat.
‘What do you think, Berthier?’
Berthier replied without looking up. ‘Think of what, sire?’
‘My abandoning the army.’
Berthier lowered his pen and looked up. ‘I think it may shortly become a necessity, sire.’
‘And will it be a mistake? Speak honestly, my friend.’
‘If you are captured by the Tsar, then you can expect little mercy from him given what happened to Moscow, and the other towns and villages we have marched through. Even if your life is spared, you can be sure that you will be humiliated, and France along with you. So, yes, sire. If it comes to it, then you must do everything in your power to avoid being taken by the Russians.’
‘Everything?’ Napoleon asked quietly.
‘Yes, sire,’ Berthier nodded. He had understood. ‘Even that.’
‘My surgeon has some phials of poison. I have always ensured that he carried them in case of such an emergency. I will keep one on my person from now on. As a precaution.’
‘It would be wise, sire.’
Both men were silent for a while before Napoleon stirred. ‘Of course, if I abandon the army, they will say I am a coward, my enemies.’
‘You must expect that. But the people of France will understand that it was necessary. They will know that as long as you are alive France must be counted a great nation. While you live, you inspire our soldiers to acts of greatness, and you awe our enemies. Soldiers can be replaced. You, sire, can not.’
Napoleon searched Berthier’s face for any sign of flattery or insincerity, but his chief of staff seemed utterly convinced by his own words. Napoleon smiled warmly at him. ‘You, too, cannot be replaced, my friend. You are the word to my thought. It is through your words that my will is exercised and France has won its greatness on the battlefield. I should have thanked you before now.’ Napoleon felt an uncomfortable surge of guilt as he recalled the numerous occasions he had slighted or insulted Berthier. He shifted uncomfortably and gestured towards the door. ‘I must think, alone. Leave your books for tonight. Go and find something to eat, some wine to drink and a bed by a warm fire.’
Berthier hesitated, then nodded. He gathered up his notebooks, placed them in his large leather despatch case and quietly left the room. Napoleon rose stiffly from his chair, then carried it across to the remains of the small fire glowing in the grate. He carefully placed some more logs on the flames and sat back, closing his eyes, surrendering to the comforting warmth. He pushed troubling thoughts aside and pictured himself on the lawn at Fontainebleau, in the summer, playing with his infant son.
‘Sire.’ A hand shook his shoulder gently.
Napoleon woke immediately, eyes wide as he looked into Berthier’s excited features.
‘What is it?’
‘Marshal Oudinot is here with me, sire.’ Berthier stepped aside to reveal Oudinot.
‘So?’
‘It’s best if the marshal explains himself.’
‘Explains what?’ Napoleon eased himself up. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was three o’clock in the morning. He had been asleep for over five hours, he realised, angry with himself.
Oudinot stepped forward. ‘I’ve come straight from my headquarters. sire. I’ll come to the point.’
‘Please do.’
‘A column of reinforcements under General Corbineau joined my command this evening.’
‘I know about that. He commands a brigade that was sent for from Vilna.’
‘That’s right. Corbineau intended to cross the Berezina at Borisov on his way to join us, but the day before yesterday he discovered the town was in Russian hands. So he questioned a local peasant to see if there was another place to cross the river. The peasant guided him to a ford eight miles north of Borisov, at the village of Studienka.’
‘I know it, but there’s no ford there.’
‘None marked on the map, sire. But Corbineau crossed there.’ Oudinot could not help smiling. ‘He says the water was no more than waist deep.’
There were several flashes in the night as the firing on the far side of the river faded away. Corbineau and his men had succeeded in storming the two guns that had been left to cover the unmarked ford. They had earlier waded across the freezing river, muskets held high, and driven off a company of Russian infantry before turning on the guns. Evidently the enemy had also known about the ford, but since it had not been marked on any maps they had posted only a token force to protect the crossing place. In the distance, to the south, there was an occasional rumble of artillery as Oudinot’s men carried out their diversionary attacks opposite Borisov. As Napoleon had hoped, the Russian forces strung out along the far bank had hurried south, marching to the sound of the guns.
As soon as Corbineau sent word back across the river that he had control of the far bank Napoleon gave the order for General Eblé’s engineers to set to work. The plan called for two bridges to be constructed in the darkness and the army was to begin crossing the moment they were completed. Davout’s and Victor’s corps were to cover the approaches to Studienka while the rest of the army crossed over. The swiftness of the current and the unevenness of the river bed had ruled out any attempt to ford the river in strength. Half the army would have been swept away and the rest would have been frozen by the immersion in the icy water.
A handful of braziers were lit on the east bank to provide illumination for the engineers, and a short time later some more fires appeared on the far bank as a second team of Eblé’s men began work from the other end, a hundred paces away. Napoleon strode down to the river bank to watch the progress. He found Eblé directing the work, a few feet from the edge of the icy current swirling downstream. Out in the river the dark figures of his men stood braced against the current as they held stout timbers in place while their comrades used a makeshift piledriver to ram the timbers into the river bed.
‘How goes it, General?’
Eblé turned and saluted. ‘The first trestle is in position, sire. We’ve been lucky with the frost.’
‘Lucky?’ Napoleon stared at the men standing up to their thighs in the river.
Eblé stamped his boot on the frozen river bank. ‘It’s hardened the mud. Makes it easier to get the materials down the bank.’
‘I see.’ Napoleon gestured towards the handful of wagons behind them. ‘I thought I gave orders to have all the wagons burned at Orsha.’
‘Yes, sire. However, I gave orders for my men to save a handful of wagons for our tools and nail barrels.’
‘You disobeyed my order.’
Eblé stared at him and then shrugged. ‘Evidently.’
‘Good man. I wish half my generals showed such initiative.’ Eblé looked relieved, but Napoleon pointed a finger at him. ‘Just don’t make a habit of it.’
Eblé laughed.
Napoleon looked round at the timber piled on the bank. ‘Will you have enough material to complete the job?’
‘That depends on Studienka, sire. The timber comes from the houses. My men are busy tearing the buildings down to get what we need. As long as the village is big enough, you can have your bridges.’
�
��When will they be completed, General?’
‘Before noon tomorrow, if we are lucky. But the river is starting to rise, and there’s ice in it. That may slow us down. I can’t let the men work in these conditions for more than an hour at a time. I’ll work them in shifts. An hour in the water, and half an hour resting by the fires. Still, we’re going to lose many of them to the cold, sire.’
The sound of the engineers’ hammers and piledrivers continued through the night. Meanwhile, the stragglers and non-combatants were arriving at the village and filled the streets of Studienka while they waited for the bridges to open. Napoleon intended to get the bulk of the army over the river before giving the civilians their chance. Last of all would come Victor and the rearguard, then the bridges would be destroyed.
As dawn broke, weak and pallid as clouds obscured the sun and threatened snow, a party of Cossacks was sighted a mile to the south on the far bank. They observed the bridge-building for a few minutes before turning and galloping away.
‘They’ll reach Borisov within the hour,’ Napoleon muttered to Berthier. ‘It will take the commander there an hour or so to form his men up and begin to march towards the ford. Give them three hours at the most to reach us, and another to deploy. We can expect them to start attacking our outposts early this afternoon.’ He turned to examine the bridges. Trestles extended from both banks and the engineers were hard at work nailing support beams and planking in place. The smaller bridge, built for infantry to cross, still had a gap of some twenty paces between each end. The second bridge was larger, constructed to bear the weight of the army’s remaining guns and the wagons that had escaped the fire at Orsha. It was going to take somewhat longer to complete.
‘Shall I give the order for Oudinot to withdraw to the bridgehead, sire?’ Berthier asked.
‘What?’
‘The Russians know what we are up to. There’s no need for Oudinot to continue his diversionary action now.’
The Fields of Death Page 41