While crossing a small valley, they were temporarily out of the line of sight and Grau led his men toward a small wood on the crest of the next ridge. With the trees between them and the approaching horsemen, Four Troop dismounted and filtered through until they could see not only the town once more, but a disciplined squadron of dark green clad dragoons trotting towards them with advance riders half a mile ahead, starting up the slope leading to the wood.
Red-coated infantry were emerging from the town. They might possibly have been some of their own countrymen of the Hanoverian Legion, fighting for the French, but Grau didn’t give it a thought. From here he could see plainly the luxuriant moustaches that almost covered the faces of the dragoons. Apart from the different colours of the uniforms, they could hardly be told apart from his own men. But, what was a squadron of the King’s German Legion doing, leading British redcoats south towards Badajoz?
A couple of hours later, after much enthusiastic greeting and banter, the KGL Dragoons cantered south again, with the First Division of Wellington’s army following in easy time.
General Sir Brent Spencer had left twelve thousand men of his division close to Ciudad Rodrigo and was shadowing Marshal Marmont and his small, but resurrected Army of Portugal on its passage south.
Marmont was presently on the road from Salamanca to Cáceres with the obvious intention of challenging the British who were besieging Badajoz. How they had managed to form an army at all after the disaster in Portugal and the defeat at Fuentes de Oñoro, was little short of miraculous. Not for nothing did they claim to be the best army in the world.
Sir Brent gladly handed over the reconnaissance duties to the Hornets and pressed on with the news. Roffhack went east to find B Squadron. Together they would retire southward in front of Marmont’s army. Marshal Marmont’s army had not yet crossed the Tagus on its way to Cáceres, having tarried at Plasencia at the tip of the Sierra de Gredos, to squeeze the place dry of food and drink.
A Squadron caught up with Captain Otto Fischer shortly after he had spotted the French vanguard. Both squadrons now spent two days observing the army, estimating its strength and capturing a vanguard, exploring troop of chasseurs, who were being cautious, but not cautious enough to avoid the trap set for them. They and their officers were escorted back to Wellington’s army for questioning.
* * *
Whatever one might say about Marshal Soult; his ruthlessness; his venality; his naked ambition to wear a crown as a reward for serving his emperor; there was no denying that he was a brilliant military planner with boundless energy.
When Vere had gone south to find out where the Marshal had gone after his defeat at La Albuera, he had done so in the certain knowledge that Soult would come back to relieve the garrison he had left at Badajoz.
He had expected to find a great deal of activity around the great military base that the French were holding at Seville, with every soldier that could be spared from every garrison in Andalucia, converging on the place. There would be drilling and training and cavalry manoeuvres from morning until night and by sometime in August, Soult would be moving north again with an army of thirty thousand men; perhaps forty thousand if d’Erlon had rejoined the Army of the South.
He had planned for the Hornets to re-establish their contacts with the guerrilleros in the Sierra Morena and around Seville and spend a pleasant few weeks exercising the men and harassing the French preparations.
He really should have taken greater notice of the earlier metamorphosis that Masséna had effected with the Army of Portugal only weeks after fleeing for shelter in Salamanca. If Masséna could do it then so could Soult.
Meeting the vanguard of Marshal Soult’s returning army, less than three weeks after he had scuttled back to Andalucia was a shock. Taking two or three days to snoop on them while they were crossing the mountains, he was able to determine that its numbers were almost the same as when they had first offered battle. That was his second shock.
It was unbelievable that Soult had managed to replace all of his seven thousand casualties in so short a time. Then came the news from Hagen that another ten thousand troops were marching from the east. It put any thoughts of a relaxing break right out of his head.
He pulled back Hagen and D Squadron and they raced back to Badajoz to report. At the same time Günther Roffhack returned with the news that Marshal Marmont had performed a similar miracle with the Army of Portugal and was bringing it south to confront Wellington with a combined force of some sixty thousand men.
As Welbeloved had quietly forecast, the siege operations with an inadequate siege train had been catastrophic. Two separate assaults had been repulsed bloodily and it seemed almost a relief when the investment had to be abandoned and the army retired across the Guadiana into Portugal.
Wellington now had many more men than Beresford had originally been given before La Albuera. He deployed them in a defensive position in the hills around Elvas. There could have been as many as fifty thousand, but nearly a third of them were Spanish.
In spite of his earlier conversation with Welbeloved, it seemed that his lordship had little confidence in his allies. Knowing that the French had gathered together at Mérida, nearly forty miles to the east, he sent Blake and his ten thousand Spaniards back south to threaten Seville. He was hoping that this would encourage Soult to pull most of his own men back there to save the town.
Once more, Wellington was preparing to fight a defensive battle with a greatly outnumbered force. Having sent the Spaniards away, he was left with an army composed almost entirely of reliable veterans. Needless to say, he had himself chosen the ground on which he was prepared to fight.
He was mildly surprised at the speed at which both Soult and Marmont had resurrected their armies. The fact that Marshal Marmont had rushed his half-reformed army south in order to help Marshal Soult was little short of startling. French marshals on the whole, thought more of their own ambitions and advancement to think of helping their rivals, unless doing so could be made into a grand gesture that would attract the approbation of Napoleon himself.
Perhaps the repulse at La Albuera and the threat to Badajoz enabled Marmont to pose as the man who had rebuilt an army in record time and rushed to the rescue of ‘poor old Soult’, who was getting a little out of his depth against the stubborn Leopards.
After all, he himself had superseded an even older marshal whose reputation had been lost in confrontation with Wellington!
CHAPTER 17
One of the principal objectives in sending MacKay to the north, was to get General Santocildes and his army in Galicia to strike eastwards and so occupy the Army of the North and the Army of Portugal, that Marshal Marmont would be far too busy to poke his nose into Wellington’s operations around Badajoz.
Santocildes had been itching to do something for some time and was very receptive to the idea when MacKay joined him with four hundred Hornets/Wasps.
Ironically, it was the very thing that Wellington had been hoping to prevent that spurred Santocildes into action. A despatch arrived from General Spencer for MacKay, to tell him that Marmont was already on his way south and that he should use his own judgement about what action he should now take.
MacKay had long been of the opinion that the more mosquito bites on the French anywhere in Spain, the less able they would become to concentrate enough forces when it became vitally important for them to do so.
He presented the information to Santocildes without delay and pointed out the obvious: Marshal Bessières and the Army of the North could no longer rely on the support of Marmont’s army and might even have loaned him some of their own battalions, thus weakening themselves still further.
In short, there was no better time than the present to make a name for himself and strike a blow for Spain.
In return, MacKay and four hundred Avispónes would act as his eyes and ears. They would make sure that he was never surprised by the French and always in position to decide when to stand, when to attack or when
to take his troops out of danger as fast as their feet would carry them.
The news and the offer were both so good that Santocildes would very likely have accepted that this was his moment of destiny without further discussion. When additional news came in while it was still being discussed, to the effect that the French garrison in the Asturias was being withdrawn for service elsewhere, orders were given forthwith. The largely conscript army from Galicia prepared to go into action for the very first time.
Two years ago, the province was under the occupation of Marshal Soult and recruitment was unable to start until the French left to try and intercept Wellington after Talavera.
Now, a very raw army of ten thousand men was preparing to attack French veterans and a Spanish general was so far forgetting himself that he was accepting a British lieutenant colonel on equal terms, with no condescension or posturings to emphasise his innate superiority.
Indeed, when he was introduced to a whole company of Spanish Hornets, his manner was a strange mixture of envy and obsequiousness; treating even the rankers with a degree of awe that was amazing to watch, given the humble birth of most of them.
His delight was so great, that when MacKay offered the services of the Spanish Hornets to improve the marksmanship of a grenadier company and a skirmishing company, he jumped at the chance and issued orders to the effect that during the period of instruction, every man of the Avispónes was to be regarded as a superior officer by both the officers and men of those companies.
MacKay’s idea was not new. He had done the same thing with garrisons of Royal Marines in southern Spain, with remarkable results. He wanted the Spaniards to realise that their muskets were not just for pointing vaguely at the enemy, closing their eyes and pulling the trigger. There were some very basic improvements that could be made in the maintenance and handling of the weapon. With practice, it could be made deadly at short range, without the troops having to rely on the haphazard shotgun effect of massed volleys into massed ranks at very close range.
Once he had a core of marksmen able to hit a man-size target four times out of five at fifty yards, it was up to them if they trained other companies or not. If they did, they had the potential to rout many times their own numbers of any army presently fighting in Europe.
While the army was getting ready to move off and the Avispónes set about their brief period of instruction, MacKay and his four senior commanders attended a council of war with Santocildes and his staff. They were welcomed formally, but warmly. Perhaps more warmly when the Spaniards realised that everyone present could converse in spanish, even though Gonçalves and Richter both had strong portuguese accents.
Getting down to business with commendable brevity, Santocildes stated his position quite clearly, much to MacKay’s satisfaction. “It has to be said from the start, Señores, that I am not interested in fighting a French army on anything like equal terms. Many of my fellow generals have made that mistake and regretted it.
If I were to do so with my raw peasant conscripts, I should lose the battle before it was well begun. I should be happy to think that I could clear the French from the whole province of León, now that most of the so-called Army of Portugal has gone south and the Army of the North has withdrawn from the Asturias.
I doubt that this can yet be done, but I understand that they need all their reduced strength to keep order in León, Castilla and Navarra. My task is to show them that we shall strike them where they are weak and hide from them when they are strong. We are not guerrilleros, but we shall fight like them and refuse to fight when we are outmatched.”
He looked directly at MacKay and his officers, but continued speaking for the benefit of his own commanders. “I have been considering this way of fighting for sometime, but I needed to know at all times what the enemy was doing and where his forces were to be found. Now, El Coronel MacKay and three companies of the famous Avispónes Morenos have offered their help and brought news of French lack of strength as far east as Burgos.
May I now formally accept your generous offer, Señor Coronel? We need your services for many things, but most of all as our eyes and ears. My cavalry is young and enthusiastic, but not yet experienced and no more in number than your three companies. I am willing to place them all under your command if you can let them ride with the Avispónes and teach them how to fight as you do.”
It was not often that Hamish MacKay was caught totally unprepared. He had known generals, English and Spanish, who would have tried to bring him and his men under their command. He thought back quickly over Santocildes’ actual words and found nothing to indicate that the general had any ulterior motive; unless it was a bid to secure the participation of the Hornets in the whole of his proposed campaign.
He glanced at his officers and found them all looking very thoughtful and that was very little help in his present predicament. In order to give himself time to think, he rose to his feet and bowed in the direction of the general. Speaking in spanish, he sought for words that would appear diplomatic; attempting something for which he was not exactly renowned in english.
“I imagine that it is the proud reputation of Los Avispónes that has prompted your Excellency to honour me in such a manner. Leaving to one side whether such an appointment could be accepted as legitimate, either by Lord Wellington or the Cortez in Cadiz, I think I understand what you want from us and I am confident that we can give it to you.
We shall happily let your cavalry ride with us and teach them our ways, but we cannot make them into Avispónes. That takes four to six months intensive training and two out of three recruits do not succeed, even in becoming Wasps.”
Santocildes positively beamed at him and MacKay began to get the uncomfortable feeling that he had been led very skilfully to this point and that his reply was exactly what had been expected.
“I shall ask no more of you, Coronel. Only make them into better cavalry soldiers before you hand them back to me. In return, if I need you to do something for me, I shall be most punctilious about asking you whether you consider it possible or desirable. I have been told that such is the way Lord Wellington acts, when he wishes you to fight for him.
Now, if that is decided, officially or unofficially and my cavalry regiments are to ride with you, they shall need to be under your command until you have trained them in your ways.
The commander of my cavalry regiments is Coronel Quintana and he understands the need for me to use my authority as commander of the Army of Galicia to appoint you Brigadier General in the Army of Spain. The appointment is not honorary, but neither is it paid. What it means is that El Coronel Quintana and any other officer of mine can accept your orders without loss of honour.” The glint of humour was back in his eyes. “You realise, of course, how important that is to a Spanish gentleman?”
MacKay understood very well indeed. Ever since he first came to Spain with the very first platoon of Hornets, he had been listening to Spanish officers talking about their honour. It was very often brought up in conversations in the aftermath of defeats, in order to explain why they had or had not acted sensibly in some particular engagement.
“Of course I understand, Sir.” He smiled in turn. “Unfortunately, with one or two exceptions, our French enemies have no concept of such things. They have changed the rules of warfare to say that they will kill you if you are an enemy, regardless of whether you are an honourable man or not.
Los Avispónes fight them ruthlessly, but honourably according to our view. We do not kill them if they are unarmed or surrendering or prisoners. Otherwise we use any advantage ruthlessly. We deceive them in any way we can and we never, on any account, knowingly allow them to have an advantage.
None of my officers considers his personal honour while fighting this war, only the honour of the Avispónes.
Our instruction of your cavalry, Sir, shall be within this code. Perhaps El Coronel Quintana can make himself known and tell me if he can accept this?”
A young, smallish, well-nourished and
flowing-moustached officer stepped forward importantly. “I am Coronel Quintana, Señor General MacKay. I understand what you shall try to do with my men and you have my assurance that I and my officers shall help you to the best of our abilities.”
MacKay glanced at General Santocildes and saw a look of keen interest and anticipation. He suspected that the general had been informed more closely about the Hornets than he had admitted.
“I am gratified by your willingness to co-operate, Coronel Quintana. Let me explain that it takes at least four months to instruct our Avispónes before they can start to be called Avispas. We have less than four weeks and many of your men may not be able to reach the standard that we shall aim for. Whatever happens, they shall be much better soldiers.
Naturally, with such well-trained men, they shall demand that their officers be at least as skilful as they shall become. In the next six weeks, or until the army engages with the enemy, all your officers shall become troopers in a special troop, led by myself. Much more shall be expected from you than from your men and I shall do my utmost to force you up to a standard acceptable by Los Avispónes.
Are you all prepared to do your best and more, rather than be officers of men who shall be better soldiers than you?”
Quintana’s mouth was hanging open. “You intend to treat me and my officers as common troopers, while you instruct us? I had assumed that we should observe your methods so that we could put them into practice ourselves.”
MacKay glanced once more at Santocildes. His expression was carefully neutral, but showing not an iota of sympathy for Quintana.
“Señor Coronel, your general has asked me to train his cavalry to become Avispónes in less than three weeks. Quite simply, it cannot be done, but I can make all of you many times better soldiers than you are now.
I have brought with me four hundred Avispónes; probably the best soldiers in the world. They would be capable of destroying utterly, two thousand attacking French infantry in less than two minutes.
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