by Griff Hosker
The river widened a little more and there were fewer troops here. The French had been in the country for some time and Bonaparte had good engineers and map makers. He loved maps! They would know the depth of the river and that led me to believe that it was not fordable. When we came to what appeared to be an undefended part of the river I reined in. It was now early afternoon. I led the detachment to the river. It was more than two hundred paces across. French muskets would not be able to hit us. However, just to be certain, I halted the men a hundred paces from the water, dismounted and led Donna to drink. The half a dozen French infantry who had been in the treeline emerged and catcalled me. They questioned my parentage. I smiled, calling me a bastard was not an insult, it was true. Donna drank and I watched the French. A couple of them popped off their guns and I heard the plops as the balls fell into the river. A French sergeant barked out orders and then waded in to smack the offenders with the flat of his sword. I took the Baker and loaded a ball. I did so carefully. It took until the smoke from the French muskets had dissipated for me to do so. The French had a company flag fluttering from a cut branch. I aimed at the branch. It was as wide as my forearm. I fired. The French ducked and when none were hit they rose. I heard the crack and watched the flag fall to the ground. The effect was almost magical. Instead of standing and facing us the half company dropped to the ground once more.
“Bring the detachment up, Sergeant Sharp. We might as well eat here. It is a pleasant morning.”
My words were intended for French ears as well as Sharp. There would be English speakers amongst the French. I was trying to unsettle them. My men were in high spirits as they watered their horses and then, in pairs, went downstream to either make water or empty their bowels. It would infuriate the French. Then we ate and had water from our canteens. The river water would not be drinkable. With a couple of regiments using the river, not to mention their horses, it would be a short route to dysentery if we did so.
Sergeants Parkinson and Sharp joined me. “We will head south and try to find the road. Who knows, we may find Captain Rogers. I think we have seen enough now.”
“Sir, how will the General get across the river?”
“This will not be a problem, Sergeant. We have three batteries of horse artillery. With six pounders and howitzers, we can easily take out the three guns we have seen. What I worry about, and I know the General will too, is the bridge. We cannot allow them to destroy it. That would slow up our advance.”
Refreshed, we headed back towards the road we knew was south of us. We saw the horse dung left by Captain Rogers and his men. I wondered why we had not seen them along the river. His instructions had been quite clear. Ride to the coast by the road and then return along the river. Perhaps the sea was further away than I had thought. There was little point in pushing the horses and so we walked them back to the crossroads and our piquet. We were less than half a mile from them when I heard a bugle sound. It was the charge! Muskets popped and I heard the crack of the gun.
I spurred Donna as I shouted, “At the gallop!”
As we burst into the open, I saw, to my left, troopers at the bridge. I wheeled Donna and headed down the road. There were troopers in the road and dead animals. I saw Captain Rogers. He and his men were attacking the three pounder. The bugles in the distance told me that the Chasseurs were on their way. I had no idea why the fool had charged the gun but I had to try to extricate him from the situation. I drew my sabre. As I had expected, the French cavalry were coming.
“Bugler, sound the recall!”
The bugler made the call and I saw the troopers at the rear turn and head up the road. Muskets popped ineffectually at them.
“Sergeant Parkinson, have the men form a skirmish line.”
“Sir!”
Then I saw the French Chasseurs hit Captain Rogers and the four men who remained with him. They had ignored the recall. Sabring gunners and hapless infantry must have seemed like an easy victory. It was not and his men were going to pay. The men who had obeyed the bugle parted to let me through. The Chasseurs had good swords. I know for I had used one. Even as I watched I saw Captain Rogers servant trooper, Henry, hold up his sword to block the blow from the French horseman. The blade bent and with a speed which must have mesmerised the poor trooper, the Chasseur slashed across Henry’s face. It tore it open to the bone. The others with Captain Rogers suffered the same fate. I was less than twenty yards from the bridge. I yelled, “Captain Rogers, fall back!” I felt musket balls zip over my head.
The Captain seemed to realise that he was alone and he spurred his horse. Caesar was a good horse. The Captain was also lucky that he had bought a good sword to go with his captaincy. He blocked the blow from the Chasseur and his blade held. As he headed to me one of the gunners, although wounded, used his short sword to hack into Captain Roger’s leg and a Chasseur slashed him across his back. He spread his arms and the sword would have fallen if it had not been held by a lanyard. His horse galloped hard. I drew a pistol with my left hand and as Caesar clattered across the bridge, I fired at point blank range into the face of the sergeant who led the Chasseurs. I whipped my sword through the smoke and connected with the arm of another Chasseur. He was a young officer and he was brave. He tried to block my sword. He was too slow and I had quick hands. I could not afford to be sentimental. I riposted his sword and struck him in the throat. I had chanced my arm enough. I holstered my pistol and wheeled Donna around. I sheathed my sword and bent over my horse as I raced after Caesar and the Captain. I saw that Sharp and Parkinson had a line of troopers behind their horses. They were a hundred paces from the edge of the bridge. Caesar began to slow. I saw that he had a wound. Rogers was slumped over the saddle. I could see his backbone through his jacket. Blood poured from the wound in his leg. The reins were loose. I grabbed them for I could hear hooves behind me. The troopers parted before me and we galloped through.
“Fire!”
The twenty carbines barked and I heard screams from both horses and men. I reined in at the piquet. The survivors from Captain Roger’s detachment were there. As Caesar, wild-eyed and distressed began to rear, Captain Rogers fell from the saddle. I dismounted and two of Captain Roger’s men ran to hold the reins of Donna and Caesar.
I knelt next to Captain Rogers. He was still alive. He gave a weak smile, “Damn, I thought I would be gazetted. I thought to impress the old man. Next time eh, sir?” His eyes glazed over. He was dead.
It was a waste and it was my fault. I should have realised that he was a liability. In giving him the easier, safer task, I had made a mistake. Captain Rogers wanted glory. His men had paid the price for that foolish, vainglorious charge. I stood and looked down the road. The French had withdrawn. I looked at Captain Roger’s bugler. He stood over me. He had a slashed face. “Sound recall and then get your face seen to.”
He nodded and sounded the bugle. Captain Roger’s Corporal said, “Is he dead, sir?”
“I am afraid so. Have his body and any other dead taken to the farmhouse.”
“The other bodies are by the bridge, sir. The recall saved the rest of us.”
I nodded, “Sergeant Sharp, Bugler, with me.”
I mounted Donna and we rode to within a hundred paces of the bridge. Bugler, sound the bugle three times. Stop and then repeat.”
“Sir.”
The bugle sounded and I took off my hat. It was an unwritten convention that such an act meant we wanted to talk. I waited until the French bugle sounded three times and then headed towards the bridge. I stopped in the middle. A pair of French officers with a bugler and a sergeant approached on foot. I dismounted and handed Donna’s reins to the bugler.
I saw that one of the officers was a Chasseur Major while the other was a colonel of infantry. The sergeant was from the grenadier company.
I spoke in French, “I am Major Matthews of the 11th Light Dragoons.”
I saw the surprise on their faces at my perfect French. “And I am Colonel Leclerc of the 94th Line Infant
ry. What is it you wish?”
“We have both lost brave men, sir, I would suggest a truce until dark so that we may recover the bodies.”
He nodded, “That is acceptable. The brave officer who led the charge, he is young?”
I shook my head, “No, sir, just inexperienced.”
Realisation dawned, “Ah. And you, Major, where did you learn your French? You speak like a Frenchman.”
I smiled enigmatically, “I have been fighting the French a long time and I am a quick learner. Until dark then?”
“Of course.”
The Chasseur Major had not spoken but his glowering eyes told me that he was an angry man. “You and your men have killed my men, amongst them my nephew, Major, I will seek you on the field of battle.”
I saw that the Colonel was unhappy with the Major but he said nothing. I smiled, “I look forward to it, Major.” I mounted Donna and headed back to my men.
Chapter 9
We buried the men by the farmhouse. It was a sombre burial. The Captain had been a fool but he was a brave fool. It was the dead troopers I felt sorry for. They had followed a reckless officer. I wrote my report while the food was being prepared. The General liked his reports. That evening as we ate, Lieutenant Minchin asked what had happened. I told him. “This makes you acting Captain. With luck, it may be permanent. I shall speak with your Colonel and the General.”
“It is not the way I would have wanted it, sir. I like not stepping in dead men’s shoes.”
“It is war, Lieutenant, and the Captain paid the price for not being ready for it.”
“Captain Wilberforce will not be happy, sir. The two of them were friends. I think it was Captain Wilberforce who recommended that Captain Rogers should buy the commission when it became available.” That did not worry me. I was not a member of the regiment and internal politics were irrelevant.
The smell of cooking horse meat drifted from the French camp. They had recovered the dead horses. They would waste nothing. We had benefitted too. We also had three more Chasseur mounts.
“What did you learn upstream, Geoffrey?” I used his first name as a sign that he had been promoted, albeit briefly.
“There are many places we can cross, sir, further upstream. We can flank them. They have the river guarded for a mile. Their last outpost just had a half company. We exchanged lead balls. There were no casualties.”
“Then we wait for Sir Arthur.”
The two messengers arrived back at noon the next day. “The army is on the road, sir. The General is with Colonel Hawker and the regiment which is leading the advanced guard.”
I nodded, “Right, Troop Sergeant Fenwick, we had better vacate the farmhouse. I am guessing the General and his staff will want to use it. We will camp by the road. We might as well pick the plum position, eh? After all, we fought for it. Have some of the troopers clear the ground.”
“Sir.”
I smiled at the others, “It looks like we are rejoining the army.”
While the camp was cleared and the house prepared, I waited with Sergeant Sharp at the crossroads. Captain Wilberforce and his troop heralded the arrival of the General. He saluted, “General Wellesley’s compliments, sir, he is half a mile behind us.”
I nodded, “We have a farmhouse prepared for him. Sergeant Parkinson, take Captain Wilberforce and his men to the farmhouse.”
“Sir.”
“Where is Captain Rogers, sir?”
“Killed in action yesterday.”
I watched the Captain’s face for they had been friends. If he was a sensible man, he would know that casualties of war are inevitable. Captain Wilberforce looked to be of an age with me. He simply nodded but I saw a cold look in his eyes, “That is the problem with chaps who have little experience. They need to be cossetted until they are comfortable. Captain Rogers should never have been given this task. I learned the hard way how to lead. This should have been my assignment!” He was criticising me and the Colonel. Captain Wilberforce was an ambitious officer.
“I think Captain Rogers learned too, but the lesson was too late in the learning.”
The Captain led his men off. I heard the clatter of horses as Sir Arthur arrived. He had with him half a dozen aides as well as generals Hill and Sherbrooke. He wasted no time in pleasantries, “Right, Matthews, report!”
I mounted Donna and led them towards the bridge. I pointed out all of the salient features and told him what we had done. His reaction to the death of Captain Rogers was to widen his eyes, that was all.
“So, we are stopped by a battalion or two of infantry, two or three guns and a depleted regiment of horse?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And we can cross the river upstream?”
“Yes, sir.
“Good, tomorrow we shift this obstacle and push on to the Douro. They haven’t mined the bridge, have they?”
“No, sir, the troopers have been watching.”
“There is somewhere I can use as a command post?”
“There is a farmhouse. Sergeant Parkinson, take the General to the farmhouse.”
“I shall send for you later, Matthews. I will need you tomorrow.”
My independent command was over. Colonel Hawker and the rest of the regiment arrived. I would need to tell the Colonel what had transpired. Acting Captain Minchin rode up and joined me along with Troop Sergeant Fenwick. Colonel Hawker dismounted and when he saw no sign of Rogers he frowned. “I take it we camp here, Matthews?”
“It is open, sir, and I guess the General will need more space at the farmhouse.”
He turned, “Major Thirwell, organise the camp, eh? I will have a chat with the Major and Lieutenant Minchin. When we were alone, he said, “Something happened to Captain Rogers?”
I told him. He shook his head, “His father was a friend of mine. His father was a damned fine shot! He begged me to let Charles buy a commission. He seemed keen. I think Captain Wilberforce and Rogers knew each other. They were friends too. It seemed right to have him in the regiment but…” He shook his head. “He had the wrong idea about soldiering. I hoped that by letting him work with you, Major Matthews, the experience might have sharpened him up. You wrote a report?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I shall read it later.”
“Sir, excuse my impertinence, but Lieutenant Minchin’s behaviour has been exemplary. I would recommend him for promotion.”
The Colonel nodded, “Well goodness knows you deserve it, Minchin. Confirmation will have to wait until a report can be sent back to England but you are temporarily promoted to Captain. I am afraid there is no Lieutenant for you.”
“That is not a problem, sir. The sergeants know their business.”
“Right, and I had better see where I am sleeping, eh?”
After he had gone Geoffrey said, “Thank you for that, sir.”
“Just speaking my mind, Lieutenant Minchin. You are a good officer. Never lose sight of where you began. It will keep you grounded.”
I ate with Sharp and Captain Minchin. It was after dark when a young aide fetched me and Colonel Hawker. The farmhouse was packed with senior officers. Sir Arthur shouted, “Let the Major and the Colonel through! We have wasted enough time as it is.”
I had learned that some of the regiments had not moved as quickly on the march as the General wished. He was not a patient man.
“Colonel, I want your regiment to go with Major Matthews tomorrow and head upstream. Cross the river and flank the French. I want you to roll them up. I will not risk men charging a narrow bridge. We have too few troops as it is. Our light companies will cross the river on both sides of the bridge and Lawson’s Battery of Horse Artillery can support them. Their six guns should be able to deal with a couple of three pounders. When that is done, Matthews, then you and your sergeant can ride to the Douro. Find me a way across it!” The Colonel and I nodded. The General said, “Well, off with you. You will attack at dawn!”
We were dismissed. I said, “It was Captain
Minchin who scouted the river, sir.”
“Aye, Major but I can see that the General places much faith in you. A tricky task he has given you. You will be behind the enemy lines and in plain sight!”
I shrugged, “Actually, sir, following a retreating army might be a good place to hide. This might just work. Still, it would be wrong to count chickens. I would like to leave our spare horses with your supply train, sir.”
“Of course. Well, I had better brief my officers.”
For Sergeant Sharp and I, it was somewhat more complicated. We had to have with us all that we would need to get to the Douro and scout. I was lucky in that I had some names of men I could trust from Donna d’Alvarez. We would not be alone. I gambled that we might have a roof over our head and I had gold to buy food. Our cloaks would have to double as an emergency blanket and, if needs be, a tent. We cleaned our weapons. We reloaded our Bakers. I took out the whetstone and sharpened my sword. My daggers had not been used for a couple of days. When all was done and our bags ready next to our saddles, we retired for the night.
The night sentry woke me. “Sir, Troop Sergeant Fenwick said to wake you. It is three in the morning. Dawn in a couple of hours.”
“Thanks, Harris.”
I was annoyed with myself. I had overslept. Sharp had woken when Harris had entered our tent. We would leave the tent to be dismantled by the troopers who would be bringing the spare horses and ammunition. I hurriedly washed and then went to the field canteen. Now that the army was here there was hot food. I grabbed some sizzling ham. I soaked some of the slightly stale bread into the bacon fat and jammed the ham between it. It was delicious. Who knew when I would eat hot food again? Then I washed it down with some tea. Sharp and I, despite being late up, were the first to be ready. We had prepared the night before. We firmly attached our bags to our saddles ensuring that they were well balanced. We joined Captain Minchin and the troop. They would be leading along with Wilberforce’s Troop.