He took a deep breath, plainly much agitated. The implications were beginning to fully dawn on him, of what was being said and was now in the public domain.
“As to Talavera, Sir, I left my place to bring the 48th up to us as much as possible. We could not afford a gap too wide to the left of our line, between them and us.”
He was now wholly angry and threw the cutting onto the table.
“And they came up to us, Sir, led by their Captain of Grenadiers, Wilson, and, because of that, there was no breakthrough. We held them off!”
Both his Senior Officers were nodding in agreement, but it was Lacey who spoke.
“There are two routes that will respond to this, and you must take both. First, a reply to The Times, although it will take at least a month to get to them and there is no guarantee that they will print it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Second, prepare for an Enquiry. You could demand one!”
He turned to O’Hare.
“What do you think?”
“I think he would be fully within his rights! And let’s see what Perry’s got. And who’s saying it.”
Carr was stood gazing at the floor, plainly thinking through his response. Lacey looked at him, his face full of fatherly concern.
“There is a bit of good news. Donkin’s granted your leave, to return to England.”
This brought Carr away from his own churning thoughts.
“How can I go, Sir? With all this brewing up.”
“No, you cannot, but we are getting a new Divisional Commander, one Lieutenant General Picton. When he arrives, I’ll speak to him and we’ll see how he responds. You will, after all, be one of his Officers who is now much maligned, and unjustly, by someone outside of his Division. He may even, perhaps, have his own opinion of General Perry.”
He took a deep breath and then let it out in a quick sigh.
“So now, go and write your letter. Get Drake to proof read. That will do no harm and we’ll get Bryce to send it off at the earliest. Take the cutting with you.”
Carr picked up the piece of The Times and hurried out, leaving both Senior Officers sat at their table, shaking their heads. Carr did no more than hurry to his own billet, to find Drake reading his own copy of The Times, and the expression on his face made it clear what he was reading. He looked up, horrified, as Carr entered.
“Have you seen this?”
He turned the page so that Carr could see that he was referring to the Letters to the Editor page. Carr waved the cutting before him.
“I have my own copy. Given me by the Colonel.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Start by writing a reply. And I’d appreciate your help.”
Drake had his own issue to include.
“This damnable scut Perry isn’t just castigating you, it’s the Regiment as well. We need to include that; a defence of the Regiment! We are the heroes of Maida and Corunna, and favourites of the Prince of Wales. We must include his name in our letter. It’ll take more than Perry’s got to put a dent in that and, when they fail there, they’re more than likely to fail with you.”
“Yes, that’s good! Now, where’s my writing kit?”
oOo
“The General will see you now, Sir.”
The Aide-de-Camp, perfectly uniformed, him being a Major in the Grenadier Guards, held open the door for Lacey to rise and walk through. At the opposite end of the room sat a man plainly ill at ease in the ornate chair, which supported him behind his desk, but attempting various postures in order to make himself comfortable. The first impression that Lacey gained was of a tall man, he sat high in the chair, certainly well built and powerful, but his most striking feature was a long and conspicuous nose. However, his mouth and eyes indicated irascibility in the extreme, this confirmed by his first words.
“What the Devil is this all about, Lacey?”
“May I sit down, Sir?”
Picton ignored the question. He had his own spleen to vent.
“This letter in The Times, God rot the pestilential rag, highly critical of one of your men. But it happens all the time! What’s so special about this?”
Lacey took a deep breath.
“Three things, Sir. First, the personal courage and competence of my Junior Major has been called into question. Second, also the courage and competence of my Regiment, and, third, the fact that our Commanding General was almost taken. There are lessons to be learnt from that, I feel, Sir.”
Picton looked long and hard at Lacey.
“So, what do you want me to do? This Carr of yours, he’s demanding an Enquiry?”
“Yes Sir.”
Picton’s face reddened.
“God’s wounds, Lacey! Have we not enough to worry ourselves over, without wet nursing the feelings of some young sprat of an Officer?”
Lacey stared back, his gaze unwavering.
“That may be the case, Sir, but the competence of the army in general has been attacked by one of its own, which we should respond to. Also the reasons why we were caught off guard just before Talavera should be explored. Major Carr’s personal feelings may be secondary to us, but his reputation is not secondary to him. He wishes to have his say and, when all is said and done, Sir, he has to command men in the field and for that he needs their respect.”
Picton stared back hard, but he was clearly thinking.
“If it’s that serious Lacey, Wellington nearly in the bag, as it were, and it was your man Carr in command of the men holding this damn Casa place, then perhaps it should be a Court Martial?”
Lacey remained calm
“It may come to that, Sir, post the Enquiry, but I would advance the idea of an Enquiry first to establish the facts and then decide if the matter should then go before a Court Martial.”
Picton seized the arms of his chair, plainly running out of patience.
“Still a damn waste of time, in my opinion. A lot of fuss over a narrow squeak. He got bounced by the Frogs! Boo hoo! He’s not the first, nor will he be the last, before this business is finally over.”
“Yes Sir. Would that were all of the matter, but it isn’t. There has been a letter in The Times for all to read.
Lacey now thought it time to perhaps massage the truth.
“From what I hear, Sir, they’re making a bit of a joke of it in the Music Halls.”
Picton’s brows hurried together.
“Which part?”
“Lord Wellington narrowly escaping, Sir. He’s being depicted on stage running out of the building with grapeshot hitting his backside, Sir. His brother, prominent in the Government right now, is less than popular. I don’t like it, Sir, but it’s how these things work.”
Picton made yet another change to his bodily arrangements in his chair, than sat very still. A knock on the door possibly interrupted his train of thoughts.
“In!”
The Grenadier Major appeared, carrying a letter. His entrance could not have been better timed to help Lacey.
“Excuse me, Sir, but I could not but help overhearing. This letter arrived today, Sir. From Lord Wellington.”
He placed the letter before Picton, who snatched it up, inflicting creases on the smooth page. He read it quickly, before looking back at Lacey.
“He wants an Enquiry.”
His face turned thunderous as he stared angrily at Lacey.
“Can this be done in half a day?”
Lacey nodded.
“I’m sure, Sir.”
Picton’s elbows came onto the desk.
“Your man will need time to build his case, I assume?”
“Yes Sir. Two weeks should be enough. He has already made a start.”
Picton sat back with a snorting laugh.
“I bet he has, if he’s as you describe and as I can imagine. Damn sprat!”
The elbows returned.
“See Major Pengammon here. Set a date for two weeks from today. Here, this place! Damned if I’m going to travel for this p
estilential affair.”
His head came up at a sharp angle, impatience plain upon his face.
“Now. Good day to you, Lacey.”
Lacey came to the attention and punctiliously saluted. The reply was an irritated sweep of Picton’s right hand to just above his right eyebrow. Lacey marched out with Pengammon and began the arrangements. The date was set for October 17th.
Carr and Drake were now on their second meeting. The letter produced from their first had now gone, so now they were considering the Enquiry. Drake was holding pencil and paper and doing his best to get some structure into the proceedings.
“Right. La Casa first. Who is there who can say that you tried to bring the 87th to the alert and after that our men?”
Carr’s reply was instant.
“Captain Bryant. He said he would go to their Colonel. Also, our Ellis, as soon as I got over to ours, and then there’s Hill, who was on picket. I told him to keep a good watch and he said that he didn’t like the smoke of the burning huts.”
Drake had already written down the three names, when he looked up, suddenly animated.
“The smoke! Yes. That’s an issue. Who ordered the huts to be burned?”
“Mackenzie, but he’s dead.”
“Ordered whom to do it, then?”
“Must’ve been Lacey. Who then ordered Carravoy! We must call him.”
The name was written down, whilst Carr had another think.
“And I told Carravoy as we came across the Alberche that I was going to check on Donkin’s Brigade and why. The Johnnies may have been close. As it turns out, they were.”
Drake put down the pencil.
“And he saw you go?”
“Yes. I left him to continue on to us and I walked into the woods, to find Donkin.”
“God! That’s important. It’ll go with Bryant’s.”
His eyebrows rose to their fullest height.
“Anyone else?”
Carr raised his eyebrows.
“Himself? Because we formed a line to oppose the Johnnies, we saved his backside!”
Drake shook his head.
“Forming a good line was too late! The issue is, why were we surprised? And what did you do to prevent it?”
Carr sat back.
“Then I think that’s about it.”
Drake nodded his head.
“Right, next Talavera. You left our line to bring the 48th up closer.”
“Yes. I spoke with their Grenadier Captain. Wilson.”
“Who could say that you returned quickly?”
Carr cudgelled his memory, sifting through the images of chaos, carnage, noise, and near panic.
“I said something to Sillery. His guns were firing like mad, but I doubt that he heard.”
“All right. But Wilson’s the one that matters.”
He drew a line under the list of names, but moved the pencil up the page.
“Ours we can call easily, which leaves …….”
He wrote their unit beside each name.
“Bryant, 87th. Wilson 48th . Sillery RHA.”
He stood up.
“Off we go to Bryce for letters of attendance, or whatever they’re called, to be written up.”
They hurried to Battalion Headquarters, where they found Bryce, inevitably at his desk. Bryce looked up.
“Sirs?”
Drake placed the list before him.
“We need a copy of this list for the Colonel and letters to each of these Regiments calling on their Officers to attend the Enquiry. On the 17th.”
Bryce read the list and then looked up, his face very anxious.
“You’ll be lucky with the 87th, Sir. They marched out last night, for Lisbon.”
Drake looked at Carr.
“That’s Bryant! He’s crucial.”
Carr was already at the door.
“They can’t have got far!”
He disappeared, then re-appeared.
“Nat! Can I borrow your horse?”
After receiving a brief nod, Carr was gone and within ten minutes his mount was essaying a loping canter down the main trunk to Lisbon. He knew that he could expect the 87th to have covered at least 15 miles if they marched out early last night, and the time now was late morning. After 10 miles he halted at a stream with lush green grass along its bank and allowed his horse 15 minutes to graze and drink, then he re-mounted and resumed his urgent ride forward. Some roofs came into view and he hoped that the 87th would be using it, but no, and his anxiety then increased, centred on the question ‘Had they used a different road?’.
Onward through the village and then he saw a dust cloud ahead and hope grew stronger, even more so when he saw the rear of a supply wagon, with Redcoats walking beside it. Coming closer to the wagon, he could see a long column of infantry on the road beyond and so he asked the first soldier he came up to. Salutes were dispensed with.
“Are you the 87th?”
The voice was strongly favoured from Ireland.
“That we are, Sir.”
“Is your Colonel with you?”
“Sure enough, Sir. You’ll find himself at the head of the column.”
At a fast canter, Carr overtook the column, to find the Senior Officers of the 87th riding there. Carr drew level as they turned at the commotion of another mounted Officer coming up from behind. It was Carr who spoke first.
“Sir. If I may, Sir. I’m Major Carr of the 105th. May I have a word, Sir?”
“You certainly may. I’m Colonel Donkin and I know of you. Should we dismount?”
Carr nodded.
“I think it best, Sir.”
Both dismounted and walked side by side, but it was Donkin who spoke first.
“I think I know why you are here, Carr. It concerns your Enquiry.”
“Yes Sir, and it’s this. Before the French surprised us at La Casa, I spoke to one of your Captains advising him to bring your men to the alert, Sir. If he could be witness to that at the Enquiry it would help a lot, Sir. The accusation against me is that I was lax and did nothing with the French potentially so near.”
“I can see that, Major, so who was this Officer?”
“Captain Bryant, Sir.”
Donkin turned fully towards him.
“I’m afraid he’s dead. Killed at La Casa.”
Carr felt as though he had been punched and the change that came over him was noticed by Donkin.
“But you came into our camp, did you not?”
Carr was recovering.
“But did Bryant not get to you, Sir, to advise that you come to the alert?”
“No, he did not. The French must have come onto us very soon after. But, as I say, you were in our camp. Did you speak to anyone else?”
Carr screwed up his eyes to picture the scene, and the sequence of events, then came a perfect memory.
“I spoke to a Colour Sergeant, just before I came to Bryant.”
Donkin immediately turned to the mounted Officers above him.
“Spence! Get McMichael and O’Finn up here.”
The Major reined back his horse and two Colour Sergeants soon appeared and saluted their Colonel, who halted on the road as the column marched by.
“Both of you. I want you to study this Officer and say if you can remember him coming into our camp and speaking to you just before the French attacked us at La Casa. You remember that attack, when we were taken by surprise.”
Both nodded and both studied Carr, who turned to fully face each. Both frowned as they thought and then recognition came over the face of one.
“Sir, I do, Sir. Sure, I remember the Major, here. I remember him from this bright green of his facings, Sir. Now, did I not think that he must be from another Irish Regiment? Sir.”
“Did you see him speak to Captain Bryant.”
“No I did not, Sir. After pointing out Captain Bryant, I went on my way. Until ……”
“Until what?”
“Until Captain Bryant got us up onto the alert, Sir.”
“Right, McMichael. Can you sign your name?”
“I can, Sir. I can even write, Sir. Didn’t we have a fine Sunday School in our village, now.”
Donkin nodded.
“Yes, I’m sure. Now, back to the supply wagon, get pencil and paper and write what you know to be the truth about Major Carr coming into our camp.”
McMichael hurried back, whilst Carr gathered his horse and began to follow, but Donkin stopped him.
“This is because of Perry’s letter, is it not?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Right. When McMichael has finished. Bring it back to me and I will countersign it. I witnessed nothing of you that day, but my signature will do no harm.”
Carr set off to follow McMichael and at the supply cart, he found him already writing. When the letter was finished he did not yet hand it to Carr.
“Sir. I’ve said that I saw you, but if this is about Captain Bryant, after you left he told us all to come to the alert. We did and that probably saved more than a few lives, Sir. I could add that on, if it’ll help, if I’ve got it right, over what this is all about. There are some of us who can read the papers. Sir.”
Carr looked at him gratefully.
“Yes Sergeant. Please to do that.”
The sentence was added, the letter signed and then handed to Carr. He had found a half sovereign in his pocket and he offered it to the Sergeant, who instead straightened himself to his full height.
“No need for that, Sir. Right’s right!”
Carr, now more than a little ashamed at what he had assumed was expected, returned the coin to his pocket.
“I’m grateful, Colour Sergeant. Thank you.”
McMichael reeled off a blistering salute.
“Sir!”
Carr mounted his horse, then rode back to Donkin who added his signature and handed back the letter.
“Good luck, Carr.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Carr completed the return journey at an easy trot, in a mood more than content, for it had been a very worthwhile journey. Once back in their billet, the letter was handed to Drake, who read it with increasing glee.
“This is cracking stuff! It proves that you went to the 87th, and they came to the alert, obviously because of your visit.”
The Plains of Talavera Page 39