The Plains of Talavera

by Martin McDowell

  “Beg pardon, Sir, but would this not be a job better undertaken by some Rifles, or even Cacadores?”

  “It would, Lacey, but they may well be out doing just the same before their own positions. Crauford’s especially. So, Lacey, it’s yours and I’m leaving the timing up to you.”

  The statement brooked no further argument and so the three saluted and left. As they walked back, Lacey turned to Carr.

  “A job for you, I’m afraid Henry. You’re ex-Light Company, making you best suited. You’d best choose your men and get them ready.”

  Once at their lines Carr wasted no time but took himself immediately to One Section, where he found those he most sought and he waved them back down onto their chairs and boxes when they immediately stood as he entered their camp.

  “A reconnaissance party is going to be needed during a morning, very soon, to go over to Sobral and take a look. We need to know if the French are still there or gone, or whatever. I need six men, ready each morning starting tomorrow, so that’s you Davey, Miles, Pike, Saunders, Byford.”

  Then he pointed at random because he knew no other names. The finger chose Solomon.

  “You! We start tomorrow, making ourselves ready. Dawn’s at seven, so meet me at 6.30, at the barrier.”

  He turned to go, but Miles had now stood up, very, very concerned.

  “Beg pardon, Sir, but we’re Redcoats, and that’ll mean we stands out, full and clear, as we walks across.”

  Carr now faced Miles, standing with his right thumb in his waist band, his left on his sword hilt.

  “Yes Miles, that is what we are being ordered to do! Ordered!”

  Miles was incensed by the whole idea and his comrades were very fearful for him, but he pressed on.

  “Sir! If the Frogs is on the alert, then we’ll all be knocked over, Sir. The whole lot of us!”

  However, before Miles could receive the inevitable rebuke, Davey now stood, which perhaps saved Miles a punishment.

  “Sir, if I may suggest, Sir, that we all wears our greatcoats. In the half dark of first light, grey is as good as Rifles’ green. Sir.”

  Carr grinned and nodded.

  “There you are, Miles. Now you can be sure that all will be well.”

  Meanwhile Sergeant Ellis had newly arrived and to him Carr spoke his last words.

  “You come, too, Sergeant. In case I get knocked over, as Miles here puts it. These will explain.”

  Carr departed and then Ellis looked at Davey

  “What’s this?”

  However, it was Miles who answered his question.

  “Carr wants a forlorn hope to wander over to Sobral as and when he fancies, and ask the Johnnies if they’n about to take their leave. And our ex-poacher here, has just made it all alright by sayin’ that we only has to wear our nice grey greatcoats for to make ourselves invisible!”

  Ellis sat down, somewhat in shock. He had wandered in hoping for a cup of tea and now he was part of a mission to creep up to the French lines. The tea arrived, but he did not notice, even when it was put into his hand.

  There was an equal amount of concern in the tent of Colonel Lacey, sat with Major O’Hare.

  “I don’t like this, Padraigh. Not one bit. The Peer’ll be content to sacrifice some men, if it proves that the French are still holding their positions. As will become obvious when they open fire on those whom we’ve sent over to spark them up!”

  O’Hare poured two glasses of whiskey.

  “Yes! So, if the French are there and do open fire, then we must be in support to make them put their heads back down. Carr must have the Light Company up behind him, and the whole Battalion within range. A few volleys across will give Carr a better chance to fall back, but it will need the French to open fire too soon, if they’re to get a chance to run!”

  Lacey took a swallow and then sighed. He fully realised the possibilities.

  “Yes. But nevertheless, I’ll get Erskine to stand to the gunners in our nearest redoubts. Some grapeshot flying across will do no harm at all.”

  The following morning was nothing like a dawn; a thick fog had arisen during the night. As Carr left his tent, he found Lacey waiting.

  “With this fog, Henry, you have to go over. Now.”

  “Yes Sir. I expected it. My men should now be waiting at the barrier.”

  “Advance with caution. The rest of the Light Company are in immediate support and the rest of the Battalion behind them, on our slope.”

  “Thank you, Sir, but best I get on. I said 6.30 and I should not be late.”

  Lacey nodded.

  “Good luck, Henry!”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He hurried on, but was still the last to arrive at the barrier to find the seven stood waiting, stood at ‘order arms’ as Ellis had commanded and it was Ellis who saluted, but said nothing. Any kind of ‘good morning’ seemed wholly inappropriate, but it was Carr who spoke.

  “Seems you’ve got your wish, Davey. A decent fog!”

  “Yes Sir. Someone must be in favour, Sir.”

  Carr nodded, but he did not hear Miles mumble to Saunders

  “But it ain’t us!”

  “Right. Over we go.”

  ‘Over’ meant to climb the stonewall to the left of the barrier and then spread out onto the lower reaches of the slope below the Semaphore Station. Now opposite Sobral and in the ravine, they descended slightly further before tackling the upward slope. Behind and to their left, they could see their own Light Company formed up, but the fog hid the whole Battalion further behind. Carr spoke to them all.

  “Right. Spread out, but still keep in sight. Ellis, alongside me. Load now.”

  They did as ordered, loading their weapons before taking position, but before parting company with Davey, Miles spoke his own fears.

  “This bloody fog means they’ll only see us when we’n closer to their own lines. At least if we’re seen 100 yards away, we’ve half a chance of buggerin’ off!”

  Davey wiped his hand across his face.

  “If you hears a shot, we just turns and runs anyway. For what comes after, what’s that, at least we’ll still be alive.”

  By now Miles had moved on, but each then spoke to the other.

  “Well, good luck.”

  Now in position, they climbed the slope. For a minute nothing could be seen of Sobral through the fog, but then the blank sides of the houses came through the mist. Davey instinctively dropped to one knee and listened. The silence was absolute; all he could hear was his own breathing. He looked over to his left to see Miles in the same pose, but to his right, Ellis was moving forward. He rose and did the same, and the details of the buildings became clearer; door latches, rusting hinges and windows turned into firing slits. He chose the nearest gap between the immediate buildings; it was a narrow alley and he went to the entrance, to stop again. Again silence. He crept forward, then he heard a shout, the unmistakable voice of Miles.

  “Bastard!”

  However, there was no shot and there came no other sound, then he heard footfalls, which he decided must be Miles, running in his direction along the outside of the houses. He returned to the entrance of the alley, just as Miles passed.

  “Dummies! The Frogs’ve rigged up dummy sentries.”

  The last words were almost inaudible as he ran to where Carr had last been seen.

  “The Frogs’ve all buggered off!”

  Miles found Carr at a house door, within another alley. Carr was deciding whether to enter the building, when Miles arrived.

  “Sir. I’m sure they’ve gone, Sir. We can see dummy sentries all along the wall of some kind of square, just up over.”

  Carr gave a heavy sigh of relief.

  “Right. Thank you, Miles. Now run back. Find Captain Drake and tell him to bring the Company forward. Then go back and tell the Colonel.”

  Miles, without thinking came to ‘order arms’, saluted and then ran off. The first soldier that he came to in the ravine was Lieutenant Shakeshaft,
advancing slowly, sword in hand.

  “Sir! They’ve gone, Sir, an’ Major Carr wants the Company brought up, Sir, to join him.”

  “Sobral’s empty?”

  “Yes Sir, an’ I’m to go on to the Colonel, Sir. If you could tell Captain Drake that, Sir, what Major Carr wants.”

  Shakeshaft nodded.

  “Yes. Very good. Get on your way.”

  Meanwhile, Carr, now with Ellis in close attendance, was easing his way into Sobral, building by building, but the further they went, the greater the evidence that the French had, indeed, gone. However, Ellis was doubly uneasy.

  “They’ve either gone, or are tempting us further in.”

  The ‘Sir’ was not added as he cast his eyes everywhere, whilst Carr fixed his on what was ahead, each sign of desolation being revealed slowly in the mist that hung between the buildings. However, the further forward they crept, the clearer it was that Sobral had been abandoned. The village was an utter ruin, the streets littered with rubbish and wreckage, not one piece of wood remaining to form a door or window frame, both gaped wide as though in horror at their naked stonework. Most telling was the fact that the streets had been taken over by animals, abandoned cats and dogs roamed the streets and ragged black crows landed and then flew off, disappointed to find that what looked like food was merely a piece of rubbish.

  Carr straightened, then did Ellis, as both became less tense. They did not even look around as footfalls sounded behind them and Shakeshaft brought his men up, but Carr remained cautious.

  “Hold yours here, Richard. Myself and the Sergeant will go on alone and take a better look.”

  He moved forward.

  “Take up holding positions. Watch for our return.”

  Carr and Ellis continued on, careful to remain quiet as they picked their way through the debris. Ellis was coming to his own conclusions.

  “Looks like Johnny picked this place clean, Sir, takin’ anything that would make a fire, even.”

  Carr did not answer, he was looking for the building that had been their Officers’ billet when they had first arrived at The Lines, this being on the very edge of the French side of Sobral, where they had mounted a rearguard when they first occupied the village. Then he saw the building, in a very much sorrier state than when they had left it. They crossed the wide street, each looking sideways more than forwards and they entered the doorless opening. There were no stairs anymore and so Ellis had to heave Carr up to the higher level. He went cautiously to a window and peered out. The fog lay even thicker on the open fields, so he could see nothing. Carr sighed and descended using the exterior ancient stone steps that led down from the upper floor. He then returned to what had been the main door.

  “Sergeant!”

  Ellis came quickly out.

  “Sir?”

  “We have to go forward. Somewhat further. We have to see if the French remain in any way close.”

  Ellis looked at him, his expression somewhere between shock and amazement.

  “Further, Sir?”

  “Yes. Half a mile. Are you able to judge that, walking through fog such as this?”

  Ellis nodded, his face remaining very anxious. Here was another almost suicidal order from this same over zealous Officer. He was not going to hold his peace while being asked to walk blithely into such danger.

  “Yes Sir, I can. But if there are French roamin’ about in this fog and they comes onto us. What then?”

  Carr acknowledged the sense of Ellis’ concern.

  “Wearing our greatcoats we look much the same as any Frenchman. We only have to leave our shakoes behind, they are much too different.”

  Ellis took off his shako and placed it on the wall. Then he took off his pack, opened it and fished inside, to take out a soft forage cap, definitely not British issue.

  “That’s French, Sergeant.”

  “Yes Sir. Theirs is better than ours.”

  “Like most other things!”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “Do you have one for me?”

  “No Sir. ‘Fraid not, Sir.”

  Carr conceded and placed his shako alongside that of Ellis.

  “Right. Half a mile. That will be enough.”

  He started forward and Ellis joined him, the pair walking side by side.

  “We has to be careful, Sir. Fog can deaden sound, so we may come up onto them at short distance.”

  Carr nodded.

  “Understood Sergeant. Proceed with caution.”

  After three minutes Ellis decided that caution was in short supply. The pace was too quick for his liking and the swish of their boots through the uncropped grass did nothing to ease his mind. However, they progressed on, seeing nothing and hearing nothing, but both stared forward until their eyes ached. On and on, until Ellis held up his arm, perhaps because his hearing was that much better, but both stopped. Then Carr heard what Ellis had, hooves somewhere in the murk, but Carr urged him forward.

  “Keep walking, we’ll look less suspicious, as though going about our business.”

  At this point Ellis subconscious asserted itself.

  “I’d say that was about half a mile, Sir.”

  The hoof beats grew louder, then a vague shape resembling a horse and rider loomed up in the fog, but it passed on. Both men let out a long, deep breath as the silence returned. They moved on but a few more yards, and then they encountered a squatting figure, just on the edge of the fog. It was too obvious what he was doing and so they hurried away, but Ellis muttered.

  “Oh My Lord! We’n in their latrine!”

  Then again he held up his hand.

  “Up ahead, Sir. That’s fires, bivouac fires. The French is cooking.”

  Carr peered forward and could just make out the glow himself, then he heard the sound of men talking, just about discernible as French.

  “That’ll do! Well done Sergeant. Time to return.”

  Ellis needed no further encouragement, but turned back as his Major did. They hurried back, at a far quicker pace than their cautious progress outward. The relief of both was palpable and genuine, as they at last saw the buildings of Sobral. Luckily they turned in the right direction to bring them back to their shakoes, which they picked up without stopping as they both hurried back to the British side of the village, where Shakeshaft had positioned his men. Shakeshaft was stood out in the road.

  “Sir. You’ve been some time, Sir. You had us worried.”

  “We went further to take a look, which was valuable. Pull your men back, Richard. Johnny’s only half a mile beyond. It’s not for us to hold this with a single Company. If Erskine wants it, he’ll put in what’s needed, a whole Brigade.”

  They all walked back through the now thinning fog and soon the whole Battalion was back at their messfires, enjoying a good breakfast, all save Lacey, O’Hare and Erskine, all looking sombrely at Sobral whilst the semaphore arms above them whirled their discovery around The Lines. O’Hare and Lacey stood silent awaiting Erskine’s verdict on what next to do. It was not long in coming.

  “I’ll not move forward! Not from here, with the Frogs still in view. Not without orders. That’s The Peer’s decision now.”

  At 11.00 The Peer did arrive, to find the three still in place.

  “So they’ve gone. The Sixth Division saw no sentries and the Light Division found a lot of dummies opposite them. They discovered that at about 10.00 when the fog cleared. How’s it here?”

  It was Spencer who answered.

  “Yes Sir. We found out just the same a while before, not that it makes much difference.”

  He took a deep breath.

  “However, one of my Majors went further forward and says he found them about half a mile beyond the village, Sir. They were cooking, Sir.”

  Wellington sat upright in his saddle.

  “Were they moving, or what? Leaving some behind as a rearguard?”

  “Impossible to say, Sir. The fog was still too thick, but he’s convinced the French were still at camp.
Cooking, as I said.”

  Wellington sat back.

  “What Major was that?”

  “Carr, Sir.”

  Wellington lifted his head, and nodded.

  “Ah! Right.”

  He looked across at Sobral.

  “Erskine, get some cavalry in there. I want to know if they’re still where Carr saw them. When this fog finally does clear.”

  Half an hour later Carr was at the barrier with Number Four Company, quietly studying the heartbreaking sight that was Sobral. He heard a soldier come up behind him.

  “Sir. There’s some cavalry coming down.”

  Carr levered himself off the wall and turned to see a Troop of Light Dragoons on the road descending from the ridge. The fog had now gone, but after a minute his spirits sank and he spoke softly to himself.

  “Tavender! It had to be.”

  The Troop of 16th Light Dragoons trotted up and halted before Carr, where Tavender had reined his own horse to a halt.

  “Lucius. Good afternoon. I’ll guide you in. Take you to the best place, where you can watch, unobserved.”

  Tavender’s face remained cold and expressionless.

  “No need. We can find our own way.”

  Carr bridled immediately.

  “I have my orders, Captain, to guide you through. I cannot be certain you’d get to the best place and we don’t want any of yours springing out in front of the French like some kind of a jack-in-the-box, now do we?”

  “I’m told the French have gone!”

  “Perhaps yes, but perhaps no. Therefore, I will lead you forward. Captain!”

  The mention of rank spoke volumes and Carr walked forward through the remains of the barrier, followed by Tavender, who remained just behind, too far for any conversation. Within ten minutes they were at the far end of the main street, looking at the wreck of their Officer’s erstwhile billet. Carr was brooking no argument.

  “Keep your horses back here. That building gives you the best view, those stones steps are your only way up. Let’s go there now, me and you. Now that I’m here, I may as well get another look, for my return.”

  Tavender turned to Sergeant Baxter.

  “Sergeant, we dismount here. Get the horses tethered and the men into some kind of shelter. They can light a fire and cook.”