Soldier of Fortune cr-1

by Edward Marston

  'There's no need to do that,' Marlborough told him. 'I appreciate it all too clearly. Well,' he added, looking around his companions, 'this is troubling news. Marshal Tallard clearly wishes to threaten our supply lines running back through Nordlingen.'

  'If he cuts through those,' said Churchill, 'we'll be isolated.'

  'He'll not do so, John. We'll stop Tallard dead.'

  'Where?'

  'It will have to be at Hochstadt,' said Eugene. 'That's the last open ground where a battle could be fought before the mountains close in on the river.'

  'Then that's where it must be,' decreed Marlborough, looking at the map laid out on the table before him. His index finger found the spot. 'We'll meet him here — close to the village of Blenheim.'

  'That will surprise Tallard,' said Cardonnel. 'He won't expect us to resist. His army contains some of the finest and most feared regiments in Europe. He'll think he's outmanoeuvred us and that we'll be too weak to offer battle.'

  'We'll cross the river at once and unite with Prince Eugene's army at Munster,' said Marlborough firmly. 'Tallard will soon learn that we are eager to take him on. Is everyone agreed?'

  The others gave their consent with a nod. Prince Eugene left to return to his camp and Churchill went off to issue marching orders. Marlborough was left alone with Cardonnel. Both men were excited by the promise that the crucial battle they had sought against the French would take place at last. Years of waiting, training and planning would finally come to fruition.

  'It's a pity we cannot call upon Baden,' said Cardonnel. 'I know he would probably want to steal all the glory but his forces would have been invaluable.'

  'Securing another crossing of the Danube was vital, Adam,' said Marlborough. 'That's why I sent Baden to Ingolstadt. I also sent him a further ten squadrons and we'll most certainly miss those when we take on the French. But I remain confident,' he went on, rubbing his hands together. 'In taking the action he has done, Tallard has revealed his complacency. He thinks his army invincible and that we'll quail before it. We'll make him regret his mistake.' 'Yes, Your Grace.'

  He gathered up his map. 'We must be away.'

  'Before we go,' said Cardonnel, raising a hand, 'I need to remind you about the French deserters who came in yesterday.'

  'They can tell us nothing that Prince Eugene has not already told us. Besides, so many of these so-called deserters are no more than French spies, planted on us to gather intelligence.'

  'That may be so in some cases, Your Grace. All the men are interrogated to make sure that they are genuine deserters. One of them at least deserved to be heard.'

  'Why is that, Adam?'

  'He was a member of General Salignac's staff,' said Cardonnel. 'He's not some frightened man from the ranks. He's a senior officer who might well have useful information for us.'

  'Then let's hear the fellow. What's his name?'

  'Frederic Seurel.'

  'Bring him in.'

  Cardonnel lifted the flap of the tent and beckoned a man outside. He stepped back so that the deserter could enter. Wearing the uniform of a captain in the French army, Charles Catto came boldly into the tent.

  Edward Marston

  Soldier of Fortune

  On August 13, 1704, the Confederate army began its march at three o'clock in the morning. Preceded by an advance guard of Horse, eight columns marched through the darkness along routes that had been chosen so that there was no danger of one body of men impeding another. The infantry tramped ruinously over standing crops in the fields, leaving the road free for the teams of horses pulling the cannon, ammunition wagons and the pontoon train. In total, over 50,000 men were on the move. Not all of them were happy about the situation.

  'I hate night marches,' grumbled Henry Welbeck as he trod on a stone that made him stumble. 'I like to see where I'm going.'

  'Console yourself with the thought that we'll catch them off guard,' said Daniel, riding beside him. 'The French and the Bavarians will still be fast asleep.'

  'Lucky buggers!'

  'We're the lucky ones, Henry. This is a day of destiny.'

  Welbeck was sceptical. 'It doesn't feel like it to me, Dan.'

  'I don't believe that. You have the same tingle that I always have before a battle. You have the same fluttering in your stomach and the same buzzing inside your head. You know that today is special.'

  'What's special about losing more of my men?' retorted the other. 'What's special about being deafened by the sound of enemy cannon, charged at by their cavalry and shot at by their infantry?'

  'You could end the battle as a hero.'

  'I'm more likely to end it in an unmarked grave.'

  'We've never lost an important battle under the Duke,' Daniel reminded him. 'I'd always back him to outwit Marshal Tallard.'

  'Which is the bigger army?'

  'Theirs.'

  'Then stop telling me it's a day of destiny for us.'

  'Superior numbers don't always win.'

  'But it's always encouraging to have them on your side,' said Welbeck, looking up at him. 'I've never shirked a fight but I do prefer it when it's a fair one.'

  They had been marching for a couple of hours and tiny specks of light were starting to appear in the black canvas of night, only to be lost from time to time in a swirling mist. Daniel was optimistic. It had been six weeks since the hostilities at the Schellenberg. All that the Confederate army had done since then was to raid a series of Bavarian settlements and leave them in flames. Much to his relief, Daniel had not been directly involved in the wanton destruction. What he wanted was a full-scale confrontation with the enemy and it was now about to take place. Nothing else mattered. He had forgotten about Abigail Piper, about his escape from Augsburg and about all the other events in the past few months. The future of the war could be determined on a plain near the village of Blenheim.

  Pulsing with energy, Daniel was ready to do everything in his power to achieve the victory he felt was within their grasp, and he knew that Henry Welbeck would fight with the same resolve. Hidden behind the sergeant's characteristic moans lay the wholehearted commitment of a professional soldier. When battle was joined, Henry Welbeck would not hold back. Like his friend, he would wish to be involved in the fiercest action.

  Daniel emitted a sudden laugh. 'I was just thinking,' he said. 'How nice it would be to see the look on Marshal Tallard's face when he realises we are coming!'

  Edward Marston

  Soldier of Fortune

  During his time as French ambassador at the Court of St James's, Camille d'Hostun, Comte de Tallard, had been immensely popular in England. He was known for his lavish hospitality, for the opulence with which he surrounded himself and for his diplomatic skills. He and Marlborough had met a number of times at social events and got on well together. Now that he held a marshal's baton, however, he accorded his rival no more than a cold respect. Even on a campaign, he liked to eat the best food and drink the finest wines. As a man who enjoyed his sleep, he was not pleased to be roused from his comfortable bed with the news that the enemy was approaching.

  Notwithstanding his reputation as a diplomat and as a soldier, Tallard was not an imposing figure and his short-sightedness was so bad that it was joked about behind his back. Even with a telescope, he could not discern the true meaning in the approach of the Confederate cavalry. He believed that the show of force was merely a distraction to allow the main Allied army to creep away to safety with its tail between its legs. The despatch he dashed off to Louis XIV confirmed this belief — ' They can now be seen drawn up at the head of their camp, and it appears they will march today. Word in the country is that they are going to Nordlingen. If that is so, they will leave us between them and the Danube, and consequently they will have difficulty in sustaining the places that they have taken in Bavaria.'

  Shortly after his messenger had ridden off, Tallard was forced to realise his blunder. It was barely seven o'clock when he received reports that the entire enemy army was heading in
his direction. He was stunned. Summoning Marshal Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria, he led them up the church tower in Blenheim so that they could get a better view of the enemy's movements. The three commanders tried to divine the significance of what they saw. Having underestimated Marlborough's boldness, Tallard now went on to misinterpret it.

  'He must have acquired reinforcements,' he concluded. 'Even in his rashest moment, the Duke of Marlborough would not contemplate an attack on us unless he had greater numbers at his disposal. And there's another worrying development,' he went on. 'There are rumours that the Margrave of Baden is on his way here to add his support. That would markedly strengthen the enemy and we know to our cost what a fearless general Baden is. No, gentlemen, only one course is open to us. We must fight a defensive action.'

  His companions agreed with his decision. They understood the importance of holding both flanks of the Franco-Bavarian lines. No matter how large the enemy forces, they had faith in their strong defensive positions. One of them was around the village of Blenheim.

  Edward Marston

  Soldier of Fortune

  When they were two miles from Blenheim, the Confederate army split into two wings. With 36,000 troops, Marlborough intended to attack on the left against a French army under Tallard of almost equal size. Prince Eugene of Savoy, at the head of 16,000 men, was ordered to attack on the right against the forces of Marshal Marsin and the Elector. He was thus taking on a combined army of 24,000. Unknown to Tallard, he had far more men in the field than Marlborough. Where the Allied army did have clear superiority was in the number of their cavalry squadrons.

  As in most battles, the opening shots were fired by the artillery. The French right wing discharged the first cannon balls and a British soldier was the initial casualty. Colonel Blood, the artillery commander, was told by Marlborough to choose his counter-batteries. When these had been inspected and approved by the Duke, the bombardment began with a vengeance, cannon booming on both sides for the best part of four hours. The thunderous exchange of fire was so ear- splitting that, it was later learnt, the Margrave of Baden could hear it forty miles away in Ingolstadt.

  Daniel Rawson was proud of his battalion. They had to wait patiently for hours until Prince Eugene and his men had looped around to the position from which they could attack. Throughout this time, the French bombardment continued with unceasing ferocity. Like all the other battalions, Daniel's had been ordered to sit or lie on the ground to escape the worst of the deafening cannonade. They were motionless targets but they did not flinch or run as the cannonballs and howitzer shells rained upon them. They had been schooled by men like Sergeant Welbeck to obey orders under fire. Daniel noted with gratification that even when some were killed outright or received critical injuries the soldiers around them did not lose their nerve.

  There was another cause for delay. Before they could close with the enemy, the Confederate army had to cross the Nebel stream, a tributary of the Danube. There were few places where soldiers could cross in numbers. While the brigades waited, therefore, pioneers went on ahead to level the banks of the stream, to build causeways out of fascines, to repair the old stone bridge torn down by the French and to erect new bridges made of tin pontoons. It was well after noon when the order was finally given and the infantry rose to their feet and moved forward with their bayonets fixed.

  Daniel's battalion was under the command of Brigadier- General Rowe who had warned his men that no shot should be fired until he had struck the enemy barricade with his sword. By one o'clock, they began to wade across the Nebel, aided by the fact that the ground fell slightly from around Blenheim, giving them protection to re-form their ranks before marching towards the village. When they were 300 yards away, they lay down to await the arrival of the Hessians under Major-General Wilkes, and a pair of guns. As soon as the cannon were in position, they pounded the French barricades.

  Marching on foot, Archibald, Lord Rowe, led his men forward in the teeth of unrelenting artillery fire. When they got within thirty yards of the palisade, they were hit by a first volley from French musketeers. British soldiers crashed to the ground on every side but the drums kept beating and the battalions held their shape as they moved inexorably forward in their serried ranks. Rowe reached the outer palisade, but, as he struck it with his sword, he was shot from close range. The lieutenant-colonel and major who ran to his aid were also cut down by enemy fire.

  The fusillade was returned by the advancing brigade, their flintlock muskets popping across a wide front before being reloaded for a second discharge. Though many French soldiers were hit by the onslaught, they still outnumbered the attackers and they were shooting from behind barricades at unprotected targets. Having lost their commander and under withering fire, the first line of Rowe's brigade eventually fell back. The French cavalry posted to the left of Blenheim were quick to exploit the signs of disarray. General Zurlauben led out three squadrons of the Gens d'Armes of the Royal Household cavalry.

  They charged at the exposed flank of Rowe's own regiment and, as it struggled to form a square, they fired their pistols then used their flashing swords to hack a way through the disordered red uniforms. To the horror of the British soldiers, their regimental colours were seized. Elated by their success, the horsemen continued to slash and stab at will. They were so confident of success that they did not notice the Hessians being deployed to their flank and rear. It was only when deadly volleys rang out that they realised the danger they were in.

  Driving the Gens d'Armes before them, the disciplined ranks of Hessians spread confusion among the cavalry. Some horses bolted, many crashed to the ground as they were hit by musket balls or gored with bayonets, and an endless succession of riders were toppled from their saddles. The unthinkable had happened. Elite French cavalry squadrons had been trounced by Hessian infantry. Daniel Rawson's battalion swiftly rallied and joined in the attack. Fighting on foot, he used his sword to cut and thrust. When a French blade whistled down at him, he parried it expertly then reached up quickly with his other hand to haul the rider from his mount. Before the man could even begin to defend himself, Daniel had stabbed him through the stomach.

  Pulling his sword out, he left his victim writhing in agony and ran across to the riderless horse now looking around in bewilderment amid the melee. Within a second, Daniel was in the saddle, turning the animal in a circle until he saw what he wanted. He dug in his heels and rode towards the plundered regimental colours that were being held high by a French cavalry officer. It was a humiliation that could not be borne. Daniel had to kill two more riders and wound a third before he got close to the captured colours. Though Hessian soldiers converged on the man holding his trophy to block his escape, Daniel got to him first.

  He was enraged that a Frenchman should be brandishing the colours of a British regiment. It was an unforgivable insult. There was a furious clash of blades as the man tried to defend himself but Daniel's assault was irresistible. With a final sweep of his sword, he almost cut his adversary's face in half, leaving him crazed by pain and blinded by blood. Before the man tumbled to the ground, Daniel snatched the colours from him and carried them aloft to the remnants of Rowe's regiment whose honour had been retrieved.

  Edward Marston

  Soldier of Fortune

  The battle continued for hour after gruelling hour. The Confederate army had successes and reverses, breaking through at some points while being strongly repulsed at others. As the afternoon wore on, the deficiencies of the French defence became more apparent. Marshal Tallard had drawn up his men in and around Blenheim, keeping them separate from those under the command of Marshal Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria. The latter had built their respective barricades around Oberglau and Lutzingen. While the two flanks of the Franco-Bavarian forces were therefore well- defended, the long centre ground between the two had nothing like the same strength and organisation.

  Marlborough was alert to the gaps in the enemy dispositions. There was a patent lack of unity. It ma
de him wonder if Marsin and the Elector felt aggrieved that, having been beaten by the Allied armies, they had to rely on Tallard to rescue them. Both commanders were trying to vindicate their reputations now. As Prince Eugene of Savoy led an attack on the right flank, he was met with such stern resistance from Bavarian soldiers that he was forced to retire. A second assault also ended with a hasty retreat and heavy losses.

  It was on the left flank that the seeds of victory were sewn. When the illustrious squadrons of Gens d'Armes were put to flight by the Hessians and by supporting British Horse and Dragoons, the brigades of Foot re-formed for a second attack. Inside Blenheim, meanwhile, there was considerable alarm. Until that moment, it was inconceivable that the finest cavalry in France could be defeated in battle. When he saw them limping back, one of the generals inside the village resorted to panic and called up the reserve.

  A small settlement of some 300 houses was suddenly flooded by French infantry, packed so tightly together that they got in each others' way. When the Confederate army attacked, there was hand to hand fighting at the barricades but the defence of Blenheim was grossly impeded by the masses of men and equipment clogging up its streets. Marlborough did not need to capture the town. Once it was contained, it could offer no support to centre or to the right flank. He was able to concentrate his attention on those areas.

  Help was most needed on the right flank where Prince Eugene's men had been driven back for the third time, incurring even more casualties. Some of them despaired of ever making headway against the superior numbers of Bavarians. Deserters began to flee. Prince Eugene was so disgusted that his soldiers were running from a fight that he shot two of them dead with his own pistol. He then sent urgent messages to Marlborough, requesting support. When the relief came, it was led by the commander-in-chief himself. With fresh troops at his back, Prince Eugene was at last able to make incisive raids on the right flank. The Bavarians cowered behind their defences.

  With Blenheim and Lutzingen now effectively contained, both flanks were under control. It was possible for Marlborough to move the main body of his army across the Nebel to advance on the French centre. Seeing the enemy's intention, Marshal Marsin launched a counter-offensive from his position in Oberglau and the Confederate army was put under intense pressure. Though it buckled, it did not break and brisk redeployment gave it back the advantage it had lost. The steady advance continued into evening, the Allied cavalry retiring behind the infantry when under extreme pressure from the French cavalry, and supported by batteries of artillery that were brought forward.