Read The Fields of Death Online
Authors: Simon Scarrow
The Fields of Death (16 page)
After the marshals had left the church Napoleon decided to move his headquarters closer to the decisive sector of the coming battle. Leaving Berthier to arrange for his staff to follow on, Napoleon mounted his horse and rode north of the village of Raasdorf to stop on a small knoll a short distance behind Masséna’s right flank. In the darkness, he could just make out the faint outline of columns of men massing in readiness for the coming attack. When the first battalion of the Old Guard arrived to secure the Emperor’s new command post, Napoleon had the drummers stack their instruments to make a shelter for him. Then, with a rolled greatcoat for a pillow, he lay down to snatch a few hours’ sleep.
Berthier gently shook his shoulder at three in the morning and Napoleon blinked his eyes open, his mind still vague with exhaustion. A guardsman holding a lantern stood behind Berthier.
‘What time is it?’
‘It’s past the third hour, sire.’
Napoleon eased himself up and then rose stiffly to his feet, pressing his fists into the small of the back as he stretched his spine. ‘Is the army in position?’
‘Yes, sire. All corps headquarters report that they will be ready to attack by four.’
Napoleon glanced round. Even though it was still dark he could make out the vague masses of men slowly forming their ranks. The cool night air was restless with their muted conversation and the shuffling tramp of their boots. He could feel their tense excitement at the prospect of the coming battle. There was some anxiety and fear there too: a certain edge in their voices. Napoleon turned back to Berthier and forced a smile.
‘All goes well. Our leading divisions will fall upon the enemy while they’re still eating their breakfast, eh?’
Berthier nodded, with a nervous chuckle. ‘Yes, sire.’
‘I wish I could see Archduke Charles’s face when he realises we have stolen a march on him a second time in as many days.’
Napoleon called for some bread and water and sat on a pile of firewood as the army continued to form up around him. Over to the east a faint glow presaged the coming dawn. Moment by moment Napoleon began to see more and more detail of the surrounding countryside, and the tens of thousands of men standing ready. He rose to his feet, brushing the crumbs from his jacket, and took out his watch.
‘Ten minutes to four,’ he muttered.
There was a sudden thud of cannon fire to the south-east and Napoleon and his staff officers turned to look.
‘That comes from the direction of Davout’s corps.’ Napoleon frowned. ‘What the devil is he up to? The orders were for the attack to begin at four. This is the work of some glory-hunter with an itchy trigger finger. Well, whoever it is, he’ll have to answer to me when the day is over.’ He turned abruptly to Berthier. ‘No point in waiting for four now. Send orders to all corps to begin the attack at once.’
‘Yes, sire.’
The distant cannon fire quickly swelled into a continuous rumble as the skirmish line began to filter forward towards the enemy. Then, with a deafening crash, the guns of Masséna’s corps opened fire on the Austrian centre, pounding the village of Aderklaa, a short distance from Wagram in the blue-hued light of the predawn. As the bombardment continued, Napoleon watched the officers of the leading infantry columns ride up and down their ranks, shouting encouragement to the men.
Berthier appeared at his side with a nervous expression.
‘What is it?’
‘Sire, a message from Davout. He is under attack.’
‘Under attack?’
‘Yes, sire. The enemy have fallen on his right flank. He is being driven back.’
‘No, Davout must be mistaken. It’s probably just a local counter-attack. Nothing more.’
‘His messenger says the Austrians are attacking in force, sire.’
‘Rubbish!’
Before Napoleon could give further vent to his anger, he was aware of a sudden increase in the sound of gunfire to his right. He turned to stare towards the flank, unable to comprehend the obvious at first. Then he smiled ruefully. ‘Who would have guessed it? Archduke Charles has finally learned to take the initiative.’ He turned to Berthier. ‘The enemy have got their attack in before us.’
Chapter 10
‘Tell all corps commanders to hold their positions, until I discover exactly what is going on.’ Napoleon listened again to the cannonade to his right and made another decision. ‘We must be ready to reinforce Davout. Send the cavalry reserve and all the horse artillery to cover the end of our right flank.’
‘Yes, sire. Do you wish me to order Masséna to suspend his bombardment?’
‘No. It may help to unsettle the enemy. Let him continue.’ Napoleon scratched his chin anxiously for a moment. The situation between the two armies had changed completely. Instead of launching a decisive attack to break the Austrians, the Grand Army was itself under attack. He dared not proceed with his original plan until he had discerned the intentions of Archduke Charles.‘I’m riding over to Davout. I have to see what is happening for myself. The rest of the army is to hold its ground and be ready to receive new orders. One other thing: have the Imperial Guard moved two miles to our right, in case I need to call on them in a hurry.’
Napoleon saw Berthier’s brief look of surprise. The order to shift the position of the Guard was a clear admission that the Emperor was anxious about the fate of Davout and his corps.
‘What if it is Archduke John?’ Berthier asked quietly.
‘It isn’t.’
Napoleon strode towards the white mare being held by one of his grooms. ‘Make a step!’
The groom obediently released the reins and cupped both hands as he bent down. Once Napoleon was hoisted into the saddle he took the reins and called out to Berthier.‘If anything happens, if the enemy make any further movements, send word to me at once!’
‘Yes, sire.’
Napoleon turned his horse away and spurred it into a gallop across the heart of the plain towards the Grand Army’s right flank. As he rode he was deep in thought and ignored the cheers of the men he passed by. Despite what he had said to Berthier, he feared that the attack on Davout might well herald the arrival of Archduke John. The right flank of the Grand Army would be vulnerable to the Austrian reinforcements.
Ahead of him clouds of gunpowder smoke billowed across the eastern horizon, blotting out the first rays of the sun. Napoleon raced to the corps headquarters on the edge of the village of Glinzendorf, where he found Marshal Davout’s staff hurriedly packing their document chests on to wagons. The crack of muskets and thud of guns came from less than half a mile to the east.
‘You!’ Napoleon pointed at the nearest staff officer. ‘Where is Davout?’
‘The marshal has gone to the flank, sire. Some of our units broke when the enemy attacked. Davout went to rally the men.’
Napoleon wheeled his horse round and rode on through the reserve formations of Davout’s corps until he passed over a small rise and saw the battle on the flank raging across the landscape before him. The edge of the sun had risen over the rim of the distant hills and by its light Napoleon could see the dark columns of the enemy tramping forward. They had crossed the Russbach and struck Davout’s men as the latter were forming up for their own attack. Tiny figures of fleeing soldiers were still spreading about across the plain as they ran from the enemy. The second French line had held firm and was now locked in an exchange of volleys with the Austrians. To the right of the line Napoleon could make out a group of officers, and he spurred his horse on.
As he rode up to Davout the marshal was busy issuing orders to his subordinates to steady their men and hold their ground. Some distance to the rear Napoleon saw the horse artillery and the cavalry he had sent to cover the army’s flank.
‘Sire.’ Davout greeted him with an anxious look. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’
‘No?’
‘I thought you’d be leading the attack.’
‘The attack is delayed until this flank is safe. What is your situation?’
‘They caught us by surprise, sire. Their guns opened fire shortly before dawn, breaking up my leading formations. Then they sent their infantry across the river.’
‘What about their cavalry?’
‘No sign so far, sire. My guess is they are holding them back to mount a pursuit if their infantry break through my line. However,’ Davout gestured to the rolling smoke along the firing line, ‘we have stopped them, for now.’
Napoleon stared across the smoke and saw more enemy units marching to support their attack. Davout was right. His corps could hold their own. But that was not good enough. Napoleon needed them to retake the initiative and attack.
‘Hold your position here, Davout. Once the enemy start giving ground, you follow them up and keep pushing them back. Understand?’
‘Yes, sire.’
Napoleon nodded curtly, turned his horse towards the distant batteries of horse artillery and galloped towards them. The commander of the guns, General Nansouty, was as surprised as Davout to see the Emperor so far from the centre of operations and he stammered a greeting before Napoleon cut him short.
‘Nansouty, take your guns over to the right of Davout’s line. You see that stand of trees along the track there?’
Nansouty followed the direction the Emperor indicated. A mile away some poplars stretched out, shading a country road. ‘Yes, sire.’
‘That will be your firing line. The range should be good enough for case shot. You are to fire into the enemy flank as they close up on Davout. Keep firing until they break.’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘There’s no time to waste. Go!’
As the horse guns rumbled into a trot, the chains of their traces jingling, Napoleon returned to Davout and his officers. He indicated Nansouty’s column thundering out to the flank. ‘You’ll have some support from that direction soon enough. Make it count.’
‘Yes, sire.’
They watched as Nansouty’s batteries deployed just in front of the line of trees. The gunners hurriedly loaded the weapons and a moment later there was a flash and puff of smoke as the first gun fired, quickly followed by the others. Napoleon turned his gaze on the approaching Austrian columns and saw several men suddenly smashed aside, then some more, and soon the side of the enemy attack was marked by a trail of bodies. The Austrians’ progress slowed as the battered flank battalions halted to re-dress their ranks, filling the gaps, before tramping forward again until they were hit by another salvo from Nansouty’s guns.
As the losses mounted Davout’s infantry began to counter-attack, advancing between each volley of musket fire. Caught from two directions, the left flank of the enemy attack began to crumble as the more fearful of the men started to give ground, falling back at first and then turning to run. For a moment the Austrian attack wavered, and then fear swept through it like a torrent. Battalion after battalion fell back, and all the time Nansouty’s guns poured lethal cones of case shot into their scattering ranks.
Napoleon turned to Davout. ‘I’m returning to headquarters. You know what you have to do.’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘Then good luck, Marshal.’
Napoleon pulled on his reins and turned his mount to race back to the west, while Davout’s drummers beat the advance and his soldiers let out a great cheer as they began their pursuit of the retreating Austrians.
The moment he arrived back at the forward command position Napoleon sensed something was wrong, as Berthier hurried towards him with a relieved expression.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Aderklaa is in enemy hands.’
‘How is that possible? Bernadotte has the best part of a division in the village. They’d turned the place into a fortress.’ Napoleon felt a leaden despair in his guts. ‘What happened?’
‘Marshal Bernadotte ordered his men to quit the village, sire. He informed me that he was obliged to shorten his battle line by pulling his men back between Masséna and Prince Eugène.’
Napoleon closed his eyes briefly as he took a sharp intake of breath. The village was intended to be the base for his attack on the centre of the Austrian line. Now it had to be retaken, at the cost of the lives of many of his men. Because of Marshal Bernadotte. He breathed out through clenched teeth and opened his eyes.
‘Send orders to Bernadotte. He must retake Aderklaa. At any cost.’
‘Yes, sire.’
While Berthier hurriedly prepared the orders, Napoleon dismounted. As he landed, a terrible giddiness struck him so that he had to hold on to the pommel of the saddle for fear that he might fall. He raged at his body for this moment of weakness. He knew that he was suffering from exhaustion. Ten years earlier he would have endured this without a thought, and Napoleon realised that age was creeping up on him. He stood a moment until his head had cleared and then walked carefully to the map table and sat down heavily. He snapped his fingers at the nearest orderly. ‘I want something to eat. Something to drink. Now.’
‘Yes, sire.’
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