1808: The Road to Corunna

by Griff Hosker

  The cavalry knew exactly where the French were. Every day the squadron at the rear skirmished with them. Every day we reported to General Moore of their proximity. We slept by our horses. There was no opportunity to erect tents. We ate whatever food we could gather or steal. We even pilfered from the dead both French and British. The packs of the dead men we found alongside the road were searched for any scrap of food. My priority was feeding Badger. Before we had left Lisbon Sharp had managed to obtain some grain for our two horses. We had not had to use it yet. It proved to be a godsend during the three week retreat to Corunna.

  It was the turn of 8 Troop to be rearguard when we crossed the last bridge over the Esla. The river was in flood. I had the troop a mile behind Black Bob Crauford and his light infantry. I knew that they would be preparing the bridge for demolition and we had to hold them up for as long as possible. The French Dragoons had come to respect us. My squadron was still the only one which regularly used their carbines. We had made sure that we were well supplied with both ball and powder. The twisting and treacherous roads were dangerous for attacker and defender alike. Sharp and I rode at the rear of the column and we had just turned a corner when I heard a cry from the rocks.

  “Sir, I am injured. Can you help me?”

  As soon as I stopped and dismounted, Sharp had his carbine out. I led Badger to the rocks and saw a rifleman. His leg was at a strange angle.

  “I slipped, sir, and broke my leg.”

  I could not leave him there. “Come on then private. Give me your arm.”

  He put his arm around my shoulder whilst never letting go of his Baker Rifle. “And it is Rifleman sir, Rifleman Dawson.”

  “Right Dawson. Put your good leg in the stirrup.” As I pushed him up I heard him scream as he caught his broken leg on the saddle. “Sorry son.” When he was on the saddle I said. “Take your foot out of the stirrup so that I can mount. Use one arm to hold on to me when I get up there.”

  In a perfect world I would have mounted first and pulled him up but he had needed help.

  Sharp said. “Best get a move on sir. I can hear the dragoons.”

  I struggled to mount but I managed it. “Grab me Dawson.”He was behind me and he wrapped his arms, still holding the rifle, around my waist.

  Just then the first Dragoons appeared. Sharp fired. I drew two pistols and fired them both. Dawson must have had a ball in his rifle for he fired one handed. The four shots cleared two saddles and the Dragoons retreated a little.

  “Ride Sharp.” As we galloped towards the bridge I saw that Cornet Williams had organised a skirmish line. There was a flurry of shots from behind and I heard balls whizz above my head and by Badger’s side. We were lucky and none struck either of us..

  As we passed through the troopers Cornet Williams shouted, “Fire!”

  The ragged volley appeared to have an effect for the Dragoons stopped firing. The bridge was just fifty yards ahead. I saw Black Bob; he was always an angry looking man. He was shouting, “Damn your eyes, get over the bridge so that we can blow it!”

  We thundered over the wooden bridge. As we reached the other side I saw a Chosen Man and his partner run towards me. “Well Dawson, we made it.”

  As I reined Badger in I felt Dawson’s grip loosen and he fell into the arms of his two friends. A tendril of blood seeped from his mouth. He looked up at me. “Thank you, sir, but the damned Frogs have done for me.” He closed his eyes and he was dead.

  “How?”

  One of his friends took his hand away from his back and it came away bloody. “He was shot in the back sir.” He stood. “Thank you for coming back for him. He was a good lad.” He prised the rifle from his dead fingers. “Well, you won’t need this old son.“ He made to throw it into the river.

  “Do you mind if I have it, Chosen Man. I am not a bad shot and it seems a waste to hurl it into the river.”

  He handed it to me along with the powder horn and the cartridge pouch. “Good luck to you, sir. Use it to kill as many of the bastards as you can.”

  “Stand clear!” Black Bob’s voice rang out and the whole of the bridge erupted as the powder ignited. They would not use this crossing. We followed the light infantry into Benevente. We had bought a little respite for the French would have to move along the other side of the river. Rifleman Dawson’s death was not entirely a waste.

  We managed to find some hay for the horses in Benevente and we even slept beneath a roof. When the snow turned to rain we thought that our luck had changed. We were wrong.

  The 3rd Dragoons, King’s German Legion were at the bridge when the Chasseurs à Cheval of the Imperial Guard appeared. These were elite troops. In their red and green uniforms with the colpack they were amongst the best horse regiments Bonaparte possessed. There were over six hundred of them. I rode down with my squadron to support the Germans. Our carbines soon discouraged them.

  “Thank you Major Matthews. Damned handy weapon.”

  “We find it useful, colonel.”

  He pointed across the river. The Chasseurs à Cheval of the Imperial Guard were heading upstream and had been replaced by some light infantry. “It looks like they are searching for another crossing. We’ll move out of range if you would like to follow them eh?”

  “Yes sir. Trooper Cole, ride to his lordship and tell him that a regiment of Chasseurs à Cheval are heading upstream.” We followed them by riding through the woods.

  Sharp suddenly pointed, “Sir, up there. There is a ford!”

  “Right boys ride!”

  We had the advantage of high ground and we reached the river before the Chasseurs à Cheval. My men reloaded and I prepared the rifle. It was strange to think that I had served with this regiment when they were the Consular Guard in Egypt. Would I know any of them? It was probably better not to know.

  “Prepare to fire but wait for my command.” I knew that the rifle was accurate up to a distance of two hundred yards or more. The Chasseurs à Cheval of the Guard would probably advance to carbine range and then fire at us. I had just one hundred and ten carbines but the six hundred men who faced us could not bring all their guns to fire at the same time.

  The Chasseurs à Cheval rode down to the river’s edge and began to fire. I saw a major; he was about a hundred and fifty yards away. He was organising more troopers to move up. I aimed at his chest and fired. The rifle had a powerful kick but the major was flung from his saddle and I saw the other senior officers moving back and out of range.

  The carbines on both sides were causing more smoke than casualties. Percy shouted, “They are coming across sir.”

  “Jones, sound retire.” We moved back in good order and were joined by a troop of the Germans.

  “His lordship sends his compliments. He wants us to draw them up into the woods. He has a trap laid.”

  “Delighted Captain. Reload.” I turned to the captain, “When we have fired if you would like to charge and then retire we can reload again and draw them on.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Fire!”

  As the carbines barked I heard the bugle sound the charge and the troop galloped down to the ford. I heard the clash of steel and then the recall.

  “Ready.” The Germans galloped past us and I shouted, “Fire!” It was hard to see casualties but I had to believe we had shot some of them. “Fall back.”

  Sharp and I were the last to turn and move after the rest of the troopers. I heard hooves coming from the smoke and as I turned I saw a Chasseurs à Cheval of the Guard with his sabre held before him. I had no time to turn Badger and meet the attack with my sword. I drew my pistol and, as he swung the sword at my head, I fired beneath my arm. He was thrown from his horse. “Grab that mount!”

  Good horses were hard to come by and this was a magnificent beast. I saw the 10th and 18th waiting by the side of the road. The Earl of Uxbridge waved at us to continue to retreat. We had gone a mere eighty yards when I heard the charge sounded and the trap was sprung. We turned our horses and charged too. We now
outnumbered the French. They were good soldiers but they were surrounded. After a fierce fight they fell back. I joined in the pursuit with some of my men. I saw a few troopers from the 10th and the 18th too. As we neared the ford I thought they were going to make it across when one of the horses stopped and refused to enter the maelstrom of foaming, bloody water. I saw that it was the commanding officer; the general. He had lost his busby and was bleeding. I shouted to the trooper who was raising his sword to decapitate him. “Take him prisoner, trooper.” He hesitated, “That is an order!”

  The trooper grabbed the reins and led him back to us. “Well done Trooper…?”

  “Grisdale sir, Trooper Grisdale of the 10th Hussars.”

  “Well Trooper you have just captured the commanding officer of the Chasseurs à Cheval of the Imperial Guard. “

  I turned to the General, “Your sword, General.” I watched as a horse battery set up to cover the ford. The general shrugged and handed over his sword. “We had better get your head seen to General…?”

  “General Lefebvre-Desnouettes. Thank you…?”

  “Major Matthews of the 11th Light Dragoons.”

  We rode back through the battlefield. “Can I compliment you on your French sir? It is flawless.” I nodded. “We were led to believe that English cavalry would not stand. We were wrong.”

  Sir John Moore was an old fashioned gentleman. He insisted on having General Lefebvre-Desnouettes’ wound dressed personally. He also loaned him a uniform to wear. Sergeant Sharp was sent, under a flag of truce, to fetch the general’s baggage. He dined with us in a clean uniform. This was the civilised part of the war. It would not spread beyond the French and English cavalry.

  At dinner the general pointed to me, “That was a fine shot major. Do all Light Dragoons carry the Baker rifle?”

  “No general, just me. I like to be as well armed as I can.”

  He laughed, “The men in the mess talk of a soldier just like you who served with the Guard in Egypt. That was before my time of course. Marshal Bessières speaks fondly of him. He used to carry as many pistols as he could.”

  It felt as though someone was walking on my grave. “How interesting and what happened to him?”

  He shrugged, “Apparently he was killed in Italy. At least that was the story.”

  I was then ignored as the others all asked for information and stories about Napoleon Bonaparte. I noticed Sir John watching me shrewdly as the stories unfolded. When we left the table for brandy he came to my side. “Your knowledge of Bonaparte seems unerringly accurate Major. In fact one would go as far as to say you know him better than anyone else save one who has served him.”

  “Put it down to a character defect. I need as much information and knowledge as I can get and I like to observe people, even from a distance.”

  I wondered just how much Sir John had deduced. However he was an honourable man and never spoke of it again. Not that we had much chance for talking for the next day or so. When we reached Bemibre the first regiments to reach the town found the vats of wine and broke into them. All discipline broke down. There were fights between men over wine which occasionally ended in violence and death but equally bad was the fact that many soldiers, already weakened by hunger simply succumbed to the drink and collapsed unconscious in the streets.

  I was with the rearguard that day and the French, eager to make up for the loss of their cavalry leader were pushing hard. We no longer had the luxury of being able to chase off the eager scouts. We had to nurse and coax our tired horses. I would not want Badger to be slain in Spain because I had ridden him too hard. We used our carbines and I used the rifle. I was now used to the kick and I was able to fire from a greater distance. Of course it was hard to reload and frequently I would have just one shot from my rifle. But as I had my carbine and three pistols we kept the enemy at bay. That day in Bemibre the French pushed on hard. It was no longer the Guard which pursued us but the Dragoons and they were keen to get to grips with us. We fired one last time and halted them, briefly, and we hurried through Bemibre.

  It was the most horrific sight I had witnessed thus far. There were dozens of men and a handful of women who were lying, drunk in the streets. My troopers were appalled.

  “Get up you fools! The French are right behind us!”

  We either received laughter or belligerence for our troubles.

  “Sir, can’t we take the women with us? They will be sorely abused by the French.”

  Troop Sergeant Grant was the oldest man in the regiment and he had a wife and daughter back in England. This upset him. “I am sorry, George, we cannot risk the horses.” There was a flurry of shots behind us as the French entered the town. “Ride on. We can do nothing for these.”

  It was heartbreaking to hear the screams and cries as the men were slaughtered and the women taken. Neither army had the resources for prisoners. They were a luxury of a different type of war.

  It did delay the French and we pushed on to catch up with the rear of the army. To my amazement we found a square of men. In the middle two riflemen were stripped to the waist. It was a drumhead court martial. I saw the glowering figure of Black Bob Crauford, “Sir, the French are coming!”

  “These men, Major Matthews, were caught away from the brigade. They think, because they are riflemen that they may do whatever they think proper. I will teach you different before I am done with you. One hundred lashes each!”

  As the whips sliced across their backs one of their comrades muttered, “Damn his eyes!”

  The unfortunate man was dragged before the General. “Three hundred lashes! Although I should obtain the good will of neither of the officers nor the men of the brigade here by so doing, I am resolved to punish these three men, even though the French are at our heels.”

  I turned and took my troop back down the road. I neither wanted to witness the punishment nor did I want them to be surprised. “Reload your weapons.”

  The men did so automatically. I am not certain any of them thought about the action any more. It was like breathing. It was something you did all the time.

  Percy rode next to me. “Sir that is not right.”

  “Percy,” I warned him, “He would have you flogged for such a comment. He is maintaining discipline.” I pointed to the distant town. “Perhaps if their commander had been as strong then they would not now lie dead in Bemibre’s streets.”

  The French, having finished with the stragglers, hurried on to catch us up. They found a wall of lead as they rode into forty guns. The ragged volley was enough to make them recoil and retreat. “Fall back!”

  The punishment was over and I saw the wife of the man who had received three hundred lashes putting his tunic on his bloody and lacerated back. “Sir, the French are right behind us!”

  “Thank you Major. The Brigade will about face and form two lines.” He seemed as calm as if he was conducting a parade at Shorncliffe.

  As we passed through them I was amazed to see every soldier obey. There were two lines of muskets and rifles ready to greet the Dragoons who rode into them and were cut down. When the smoke had cleared and the road was empty General Crauford ordered his men to about face and continued the retreat. The French did not follow. It was their last attack of the day and we trudged on through the snow.

  Chapter 21

  When we finally reached Villafranca we were able to get some rest. We had bought time. The pursuing cavalry had had their noses smacked by the rearguard and they retired back to Bemibre. No doubt they would enjoy the wine without succumbing to it. Sir John looked concerned when he saw me. “Major Matthews, I pray that you take some rest.”

  “I will Sir John but our services are in constant demand.” He nodded. “I know, sir that you may be disappointed in the performance of some of the soldiers but the Light Brigade and the cavalry are performing magnificently.”

  “I know.” He gestured towards his aide, “my nephew here would join you. I have told him that I need him close by me.”

  �
��Your uncle is right Stanhope. He holds the army together. We just stop the dogs from snapping too closely at our heels.”

  “The next day it was the turn of the 15th to hold the rear. A messenger galloped in, “Sir! The French are crossing the bridge at Cacabelos! It is not just cavalry. There are infantry there too.”

  “Well nephew you will get some action at last. Major Matthews if you would be so good as to provide an escort we will go and see what this is all about.”

  It was mid afternoon and already regiments were foraging for food. We passed a battery of Horse Artillery. “You fellows bring your guns with us now.” Sir John had a way of making an order sound like a request.

  It was six miles to the bridge and Sir John picked up the stragglers from many regiments as we headed back to the crossing. He encouraged them all, “Come along my good fellows. Let us send the French back across this river eh?” The men all followed. They would loot and drink when they could but they would always fight; especially for Sir John Moore.

  We reached the hill overlooking the bridge. The 15th were falling back supported by the Light Brigade. Amazingly I could hear the French bands playing music. They meant to force the bridge.

  “Matthews, you are a sound fellow. Take these guns and these chaps and go into the town. We must extract those horsemen and hold them here. We do not want the rearguard to be wasted. General Crauford should retire. The guns should clear the bridge. I intended to pull back to Villafranca by dark.”

  “Yes sir.” I turned to my troop, “Lieutenant Austen, take command. Sharp come with me.” I dismounted and handed Badger’s reins to Trooper Cole. I did not want to risk my horse in such a confused skirmish. I turned to the Royal Horse Artillery. “Bring your guns and enfilade the bridge.” I lifted my rifle. “Right boys let us show the French that they face Englishmen this day and not Spaniards. We will throw them back across the river!”

  There was a cheer as the two hundred stragglers from many different regiments followed me down to the river. “Find cover in the houses and behind walls. Wait for my command.” I ran to the edge of the bridge.