The Plains of Talavera

by Martin McDowell

  With a beaming smile, he placed the letter into a folder, which had a label stuck to the front containing the single word ‘EVIDENCE’.

  “Right. Who next? Wilson and Sillery.”

  He stood up.

  “Time to pester Bryce. Have the letters gone off?”

  The answer was in the affirmative and the next time they pestered Bryce the answer was even more encouraging. Replies had been received stating that both would be attending at General Picton’s Headquarters and, thus buoyed up, both returned to their billet. The next two days were spent coaching Ellis and Hill and then they came to consider the final witness that both had been subconsciously delaying dealing with. The time came and the trepidatious subject was raised by Drake.

  “Carravoy! How do we approach him?”

  “Who more like. If we both go, he’ll feel badgered, or feel that we’re trying to intimidate him, with the pair of us looking at him.”

  Drake took a deep breath.

  “Then it should be me. We’re of equal rank. If you go, he’ll probably think that you are trying to give him an order, or some such.”

  Carr nodded.

  “I must agree. Because you are right, not because I personally cannot stand the man!”

  Drake stood up.

  “I think that there is some of that in him, for you!”

  “Then I wish you the best of luck and thank you for going.”

  After a short walk down the narrow Montijo street, Drake entered the correct house to immediately see Private Arthur Binns, Carravoy’s and D’Villiers’ servant.

  “I’d like to see Captain Carravoy.”

  “Yes Sir. He’s upstairs. If you’d like to go straight up, he’s in the room to the left. At the top.”

  Drake made straight for the stairs and followed Binns instructions, to finally reach a closed door. He knocked, to receive an irritated shout.

  “Binns! Do not disturb, I’m still not well. Don’t you recognise an order!”

  “Charles. It’s Nat Drake. I need to have a word, if I may.”

  Silence ensued for almost a minute until the door opened to reveal Carravoy wrapped in a blanket. He may or may not be continuing to suffer from Guadiana fever, but he was plainly unkempt and in a black mood, which was unchanged when he saw Drake.

  “About what?”

  “About Carr. And this Enquiry.”

  Carravoy opened the door further, which Drake took as his invitation to come in.

  “Where’s Royston?”

  “Gone up the hill to see his men.”

  “May I sit?”

  Carravoy dismissively flopped his hand in the direction of a chair at the small table, whilst he sat on the bed, from where he looked impatiently at Drake, his eyes surprisingly clear, not as would be expected of a feverish invalid.

  “What about Carr?”

  “You’ve heard of the Enquiry coming about that La Casa business. He could come out of it badly.”

  Carravoy stared back, dismissively.

  “We all take our chances.”

  “Right, Charles, yes, we do, but we have gathered evidence to show that Carr went to the 87th and recommended that they come to the alert and also we have testimony to show that some of them did. In response to his visit, that is.”

  Concern came to the face of Carravoy, which puzzled Drake but he continued.

  “You came across the River Alberche together. With Carr, that is?”

  “What of it?”

  “He has a recollection of leaving you, saying that he was going to check on Donkin’s Brigade. To be certain that they were there and in some state of readiness. He, we, hope that you’ll bear witness to that. It’ll be a great help.”

  The expression of concern on Carravoy’s face deepened, and Drake frowned at the sight.

  “Anything wrong, Charles?”

  Carravoy straightened himself on the bed, but ignored the question.

  “You say that you have evidence to show that he arrived in their camp? And after, they came to the alert.”

  “Yes. Well, some did.”

  “What evidence?”

  Drake was further puzzled. Why should he need to know that? He could simply say what he saw happen and let the others do the same. However, in the good cause of recruiting him as an ally, he answered, slightly untruthfully.

  “A Colour Sergeant of the 87th saw him there, saw him talking to an Officer of the 87th and those around came to the alert because of Carr’s visit. It’s all written down and countersigned by his Colonel; Donkin himself.”

  “Why not the Officer?”

  “He’s dead!”

  There came a period of silence, which puzzled Drake even more. Carravoy was plainly thinking, either trying to recall the conversation at the Alberche, which was good, or something nothing like good, which, in that case, was probably concerned with weighing the odds of Carr being condemned.

  “Well, Charles?”

  More silence, but not for so long as before.

  “Give me time. A day or so. It’s all rather vague.”

  Another excuse came.

  “A lot has happened between now and then.”

  Drake had to concede.

  “Well, I hope it comes back and that you can help.”

  No reaction and so Drake broached the other subject.

  “The firing of the huts. Who passed on the order? The smoke gave the French some cover when they advanced. Mackenzie ordered Colonel Lacey to burn them.”

  “Carr passed on the order.”

  “And so it was your men who set fire?”

  Carravoy angered.

  “Of course? Do you think I did it myself?”

  “So, who?”

  “What is this, Drake? The Enquiry taken early?”

  Drake sighed. This had gone badly wrong.

  “No Charles. I’m simply trying to help a brother Officer of our Regiment.”

  Carravoy’s face now showed his growing irritation, but the words ‘Brother Officer’ had some effect.

  “It was Ridgway.”

  Drake stood up.

  “Thank you for your time, Charles, and I do hope that you will soon return to full health.”

  Carravoy remained silent and unmoved, and so Drake continued.

  “I’m afraid that you will be called. The conversation that you had with Major Carr could have a vital bearing on the outcome.”

  He rose and walked to the door.

  “I’ll see myself out.”

  The door closed, leaving Carravoy sat on the bed. He remained there for some minutes before reaching for his tunic coat and pulling out a letter. It was from Lucius Tavender, concerning the forthcoming Enquiry and he read it again, for the tenth time. He had been wrestling with the implications for some time and his eyes dwelt on one salient passage, ‘This is our chance to do Carr some real damage. An Enquiry itself is its own condemnation. We have only to throw doubt on what he will say, about either his conduct at La Casa, or at Talavera. We are counting on you to help with this in any way possible.’ The last three words stood out even further. The request was obvious, they wanted him to lie, if it furthered their cause, but what was their cause? He greatly disliked Carr, both as a person and as a rival, he had been promoted Brevet Major instead of him after Coruna, but what was motivating Tavender and Templemere? Also Perry; who had written the Times letter? He stood up and poured some water, preparatory to having a shave. He had to pull himself together.

  Meanwhile, Drake had arrived back with Carr.

  “How far did you get?”

  “About as far as the door!”

  “Going in or coming out?”

  Drake sighed.

  “We talked, but, and I quote, “It’s all a bit vague”.

  Carr released sharp breath.

  “Why am I not surprised? There is no love lost between us two. I really cannot see him putting himself out on my account. We’ll have to get by with what we’ve got.”

  oOo

 
For that morning of the 17th and for this occasion, Picton had adorned himself in his most irritated and irascible expression. He sat behind what had once probably been a teacher’s desk, impatiently arranging a pencil, some paper, and a glass of watered down whisky. Most prominent and available for all to see, placed parallel to the top edge, was an Officer’s pistol, unloaded, but which he intended to use as a gavel. Interruptions would prolong the affair, stretching his thin patience even further. The room probably was once a school, not the largest room in the small town, but the largest available. The walls were bare, only plasterwork, this being less than half the wall area, because each wall was divided by tall narrow windows, allowing more than sufficient light into the room. The bright beams picked out the motes of dust swirling in the warm air, as the audience and witnesses gathered and hurried to their places. Each was greeted by a baleful stare from Picton, impatient at their lack of urgency, and therefore each quickly took their seat. However, not for long, because a personage entered which caused all present to stand; Lord Wellington himself had entered the room and two Aide-de-Camps immediately required those sitting in the back row, to the right of the aisle, to find alternative seats, their Commander wished to observe from the rear. Picton did not stand, in his eyes he was Chairman of the Enquiry and therefore paramount over all, however, with the entrance of Wellington he had had enough. He picked up the pistol and hammered it twice on the desk.

  “The Enquiry will come to order!”

  Silence quickly fell, established not only by the thumping of the pistol but also Picton’s stoney gaze around the room. He picked up a piece of paper from his desk and began to read from it.

  “This is a Court of Enquiry into the conduct of one Major Henry Carr, 105th Foot, The Prince of Wales’ Own Wessex Regiment. This being on two counts, firstly, conduct concerning the French attack on La Casa de Salinas prior to the Battle of Talavera and secondly, Major Carr’s conduct during one episode of that battle. This Enquiry is at Major Carr’s own request. ”

  He paused.

  “I assume that Major Carr is here?”

  Carr stood up and came to rigid attention.

  “Yes Sir.”

  That seemed to please Picton, who gave a low growl of approval from somewhere back in his throat, and then moved on.

  “Who is presenting the evidence calling Major Carr’s conduct into question?”

  A voice called out from the doorway and a figure hurried down the aisle.

  “I am, Sir.”

  It was Perry, who had been holding last minute consultations with Templemere and Tavender. Picton looked at him as he hurriedly took his seat.

  “And you are?”

  “Brigadier General Perry, Sir.”

  Picton looked at him stonily.

  “The letter writer!”

  Perry looked more than little taken aback at the bold statement concerning himself, but Picton had moved on before he could respond, this in the form of a procedural thought concerning himself, aside from the main proceedings, now that names were being stated.

  “My name is Major General Thomas Picton, Third Division, in case any of you were unaware.”

  Picton now looking at Carr.

  “I assume you will be speaking for yourself?”

  Carr stood again.

  “Yes Sir.”

  “Very good. Now General Perry, would you be so good as to begin proceedings?”

  Perry stood, remaining facing Picton. He cleared his throat and raised a paper before his chest. Picton noticed that he was smiling.

  “On the 28th July of this year, the day before the Battle of Talavera, the forward units of the British army came back across the River Alberche in the face of an overwhelming French advance and took up a position which had the building known as the Casa de Salinas as its centre.”

  Before Perry could continue, Picton raised his hand and looked down to his left.

  “Pengammon! Are you taking this down?”

  Pengammon looked up from his writing.

  “Yes Sir!”

  Picton nodded.

  “General Perry. Please to continue.”

  Slightly discomfited by the interruption, Perry raised his prepared statement again, found his place and continued.

  “The Regiments placed there, the 88th, the 87th, and the 105th, were surprised by a French attack across the Alberche and routed. This rout almost led to the capture of our Commanding Officer, General Wellesley, as he was then. He was justifiably using the tower of the Casa as an observation post. Major Carr was commanding the immediate Companies of the 105th, which were placed there to defend the Casa. These Companies were not on the alert, but were stood down and preparing food, even though the French could well have been very near. Major Carr did nothing to change that situation and, in consequence, when the French arrived, General Wellesley was almost captured; in fact there were casualties amongst his Staff. Despite knowing that the French could well be near, when he arrived at La Casa, Major Carr did nothing to improve the safety of General Wellesley, nor increase the readiness of his men. It is therefore the duty of this Enquiry to hold him negligent and pass the matter on to a Court Martial.”

  Picton studied him for a moment.

  “What evidence do you have for this?”

  “None, Sir, but none is needed. It is a matter of record that all three Regiments were surprised and routed, whilst at ease in their encampments, that General Wellesley was almost taken and that Major Carr was the Officer in command of the immediate area around the Casa. It is also a matter of record that Major Carr’s men were the front line before the enemy, yet they were allowed to remain at their ease and in consequence they were routed with significant casualties. His conduct is rightly called into question.”

  Picton now looked at Carr.

  “Major Carr. Do you have a reply?”

  Carr stood and only half faced Picton, so that the Court could hear.

  “Yes Sir. General Perry is wholly in error. First, that the Alberche was shrouded in smoke, such that our pickets could not see the approaching French, second that I went first to the 87th and strongly advised them to come to the alert, which they did, and thirdly, that I called my own Light Company, at the Casa, to also come to the alert. This just before the French arrived, Sir.”

  “Very good. Call your first witness.”

  Carr turned to the audience.

  “Sergeant Obediah Hill.”

  Hill marched forward and was sworn in. Carr looked at him.

  “Sergeant. was I the last to cross the Alberche?”

  “You were, Sir, with the Light Company. Captain Carravoy was there also.”

  “Very good, Sergeant. Now, in your own words, describe the situation.”

  “Well, Sir. I was on picket on our bank. After you and Captain Carravoy had gone on back, the smoke became very thick, so’s we could barely see the far bank. The French were in the water and crossing before we saw them. Tens, then hundreds! I ordered our pickets back.”

  “Very good, Sergeant. And when you came back to our men, what can you remember of their state, when you first saw them?”

  “They was up, Sir. On the alert. We, that being me and the pickets, Sir, were able to take shelter behind their line.”

  “You would say that our men were in a firing line?”

  “Close on, Sir.”

  “Did I say anything to you when I came across the Alberche?”

  “Yes Sir. You said keep a good watch. What with the scrub on the far bank they could be up close. They bein’ the French, Sir.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.”

  Carr sat, but Picton was leaning forward over his desk.

  “When you saw the French, Sergeant, did you not open fire?”

  “Some did, Sir, but to stand and make a fight of it, for any sort of time, was suicide. I ordered ‘em back.”

  “Would you say that your firing would have been heard at La Casa.”

  “Hard to say, Sir. No more than a few fired of
f.”

  “How far were you from the river?”

  “Again hard to say, Sir, but some distance. It was a long hard run chased by they French skirmishers, I can say that, Sir.”

  Low laughter was heard which soon finished when Picton raised his head.

  “General Perry?”

  At the prompt, Perry stood to face Hill.

  “Did you exchange any other words with Captain Carr?”

  “Yes Sir, he said that the huts had been fired according to orders, Sir.”

  “And you said what?”

  “I didn’t like the smoke, Sir.”

  More laughter as Perry, now finished, took his seat, but Picton was now speaking, hurrying the proceedings along, as Hill stood down.

  “Next one, Carr.”

  “It’s not a witness, Sir, but a letter written by a Colour Sergeant of the 87th and countersigned by his Colonel Donkin. The 87th are now on their way to Lisbon. Should Major Pergammon read it out, Sir?”

  Picton nodded and waved in the direction of Pergammon, who stood to receive the letter. He cleared his throat, studied the page for a second, and began.

  “This has been written by Colour Sergeant Liam McMichael of the 87th Foot. He states, as follows.”

  He cleared his throat again.

  “Before the attack by the French that surprised us, Major Carr came into our camp and asked me to point out the nearest Officer. I pointed to Captain Bryant and Major Carr went to him. Minutes later, Major Carr left and Captain Bryant called us to the alert. Very soon after that, the French arrived. We were in a better state because of Major Carr’s warning.”

  Pengammon handed Picton the letter and he studied it for a few seconds and then looked up.

  “This shows what, Carr?”

  “That I was concerned that we all should be in a state of readiness, Sir. The 87th were stood down when I arrived. The Officer I spoke to was killed in that attack, but he agreed that his men should be in a better state of readiness and the letter proves that he responded to my advice, Sir. That area of the 87th came to the alert, as the Colour Sergeant says.”

  Carr sat down. Picton looked at Perry, who then stood up to face him.

  “I am of the strong opinion that the Court should place very little weight on the word of a member of the ranks. Probably illiterate.”