Major Lord David

by Sherry Lynn Ferguson

  Wellington’s forces had pulled back another eight miles toward Brussels and the north, attempting to present a seamless, united front with the damaged Prussians, who had retreated to the east-to the town of Wavre. Along a ridge of land stretching east and west of the village of Mont St. Jean, Wellington dispersed the allied army to shield Brussels: British regiments mostly to the west, guarding supply lines toward the Channel; and Belgians, Dutch, and Germans to the east, in hopes that they would eventually be supplemented by Blucher’s returning army.

  The Hougoumont farm, forward and to the west of Wellington’s center, could not be let to fall to the French, or Bonaparte would flank the allied army and cut off its supplies. So the allies had laid claim first, and they intended to hold.

  David found the place eminently defensible. The residence and a small private chapel stood at the heart of a pair of inner courtyards, protected on the west by stables and a huge barn, on the south by offices and garden buildings, and on the north by several cowsheds. Most of the buildings were of weathered gray stone. To the east lay an elaborate formal garden, bounded by sturdy brick walls, and beyond that an extensive orchard, surrounded on all sides by a thick, high hedge. A sunken farm lane bounded the north side of the farm.

  David thought his cousin Chas, who designed landscapes, would certainly have recognized the terrain as a strong point. And Chas would have found much charming in the site, though the buildings, serving the practical interests of the farm, were too closely positioned to allow for grand vistas. Chas might also have found the formal garden too strictly confined-David could well imagine him speaking of “opening it up.”

  Indeed, the garden was likely to be opened up, but not in a good way.

  David suspected that it was indirectly due to Chas’ influence that he was here at all. The few phrases of German his cousin had managed to teach him years ago gave him more of the language than most-enough to give some direction and nod an occasional approving “ausgezeichnet”-“excellent!”- to the German troops, who were from Nassau and Hanover. Should any of them decide to cut and run, David hoped the desertion would not be at his instigation, from some misunderstanding.

  He rather grimly set about helping to direct the light company and a battalion of Nassauers in making improvements to the farm’s defenses-for one, making loopholes in the gray stone walls of the buildings, a tedious task for men with little more than a few pickaxes and spare farm implements. Outside, where the south-side garden brick wall topped David’s better than six-foot height, a firing platform had to be constructed so that men might aim muskets over the wall as well as through loopholes carved out with bayonets. Luckily, a mature wood south of the farm screened Hougoumont from artillery fire on that side. But lacking much in the way of undergrowth, the wood offered little protection for the men who would initially be assigned to defend it. Still, they must start with positions in the wood and outside the farm, only falling back upon their defenses if necessary. There was no point in surrendering ground before it might be wrenched away.

  All of these tasks would have been much easier without the unremitting downpour. But recalling that rain had preceded almost all Wellington’s victories on the Peninsula, David indulged in some reassuring superstition. From inside the building, the sound of rain upon the tiled roof was even pleasant.

  As he circulated, he heard the men speaking of matters of little import: a renowned boxing mill at home, a well-trained dog, beloved qualities of the best ales. He knew they kept a lid upon their feelings and directed their thoughts from the upcoming struggle.

  “What is this place, Major?” one of them asked as they worked. “Who lives here?”

  “I cannot say. I’ve spotted smoke from the chimneys whenever I’ve passed, but I’ve only ever seen farmworkers about. ‘Tis a nice place for the area, though somewhat less than a castle. As the owners appear to have departed, leaving the house without a stick of furniture, we will consider it oursand hold it as such.”

  That brought smiles to their faces. Possession was more than half the battle. And they were likely to be seriously outnumbered. But there were British cannons on the ridge behind them, where the allied forces held their main position. The guns would help protect their flanks.

  Since Bonaparte had not, unexpectedly, pursued them that day, Wellington had had time to settle his army along the ridge, masking men and artillery on the reverse slope-a tactic that had served him well in the Peninsula. And the element of surprise, having been exercised the day before by the French, was no longer with their adversary.

  Despite the rain, despite the fact that it was almost midsummer, David found himself thinking of the New Year at Braughton, of the ball and of Billie Caswell. He suspected that his letter to her must have read as incoherent. He certainly felt incoherent; in fact, he feared the girl made him silly. At the moment he could ill afford to feel silly, but he recalled the New Year nonetheless. And he wondered, for the hundredth time, why he had not heard from her. He had not believed her so particular in her manners. At that ball, he had declared himself. He sensed he did not misread her. But perhaps concerns for her family had intruded once more….

  “What is that you hum, Major?” Corporal Crosby, who had known him for years in Spain and Portugal, looked amused.

  “Was I humming, Corporal?”

  “You were, sir. A carol. A Christmas carol.”

  “I’ve a notion, Crosby, that we shall soon be eager enough to recall winter-when events here are engaging us warmly.” And, pleased with the eased expressions of the men and with his impromptu excuse, David fled the crew at the south gate, to go inspect the garden wall.

  His cap and greatcoat kept him reasonably dry. Occasion ally he passed under the shelter of a tree. From the top of the firing platforms one could see just over the wall, across an open grassy stretch about eighty feet wide, to the woods. Those firing from the platforms would have to keep their heads down whenever possible. But anyone attacking against the wall would be at a distinct disadvantage.

  David did not know if he was to stay here with Hougoumont’s defenders. He had, he considered now, rather mindlessly passed on promotion in order to stay with his regiment of foot. Yet here he was employed just as though promoted, floating-as coordinator, translator-instead of aide-de-camp, his previous role. Wellington did not stand on ceremony. If it served him, he might treat a captain like a general; he had no second in command. David would wait to see what was required of him in the morning.

  British artillery on the ridge behind the farm sent word that two French corps had drawn up south of the wood, indicating that the French had perceived the importance of the chateau to their opponents’ defenses. In response, the Nassauers were sent into that wood, to meet the earliest onslaughts of French infantry, anticipated with daylight. Additional skirmishers, consisting of a light company of Coldstreamers, Third Foot Guardsmen, and more Nassauers, were tasked with defending a small, hedged kitchen garden outside the western perimeter of the barn. As the night advanced, David spent much of it walking along the lane dividing the barn from that garden and the fields and occasionally passing into the courtyards where other Nassauers were dispersed. By standing sentry, he decided he was minimally more comfortable than the Coldstream skirmishers, most of whom had bivouacked, grumbling, in the mud.

  By the northwest gate, where a small pond lay in the shade of elm trees, the night’s flood of rain gradually created a marsh.

  At some early hour of the morning, perhaps two or three, David woke from an hour of sleep upon a loft’s bed of straw. The French had moved into the wood, encountering a patrol of the Germans, who quickly routed them. But the success was too early and too small to quell anticipation of a massive engagement later in the morning. Out again in the kitchen garden before dawn, David missed Wellington’s brief visit to Hougoumont, a visit that indicated the importance in which the allied commander held the farm. David managed to swallow some tea and a proffered bowl of “stirrabout,” the mens’ simple oatme
al porridge. Despite the mists and continuing clouds, the morning was drier; he might otherwise have considered it promising, but it could hardly seem so under the circumstances. Half a mile in the distance, visible from the upper floors in the chateau, French banners and massed men and horses covered the rise of ground beyond the grain fields to the southeast. By contrast, the allied army, upon the ridge behind them, was hardly visible. Oddly, their immediate enemy-the French troops beyond the wood immediately to Hougoumont’s south-could not be seen at all. But everyone knew they were there; they had heard the Nassauers’ encounter and musket fire in the wee hours.

  As that Sunday morning progressed, the anomaly was that nothing further occurred. David had expected Bonaparte, in the emperor’s usual bold manner, to attack with daylight, yet the stillness continued.

  The chateau was prepared; there was little else they could do to buttress their small garrison, except to maintain their confidence. David knew the farm held some of the army’s best troops, at least the most experienced. He himself was so experienced that he was rather curiously optimistic. Before a battle he was never certain whether to ascribe his calm to having been tested or to hard-earned fatalism.

  Before noon Wellington again visited Hougoumont, with the liaison for the Prussian army, General Muffling. David thought he overheard Muffling telling the duke that the place, forward of its own army’s lines, could not be held.

  When the duke then looked directly at David, he promptly responded, unaware that he spoke in French, “It can be held, Your Grace”

  “We are no longer in Paris, Trent,” Wellington noted in some amusement. “You might speak English-if you wish to preserve a whole skin today.”

  David could laugh along with the other officers. Wellington had always preferred relaxed high spirits about him. And his French was excellent; he and David had habitually conversed in the language during the fall and winter in Paris.

  One of the other officers asked why Bonaparte had not yet attacked.

  “I shouldn’t question it, Colonel,” Wellington responded. “He might take as long as he wishes this morning. All the better for us” And every man there knew their commander referred to the need to have Blucher’s Prussian army, still away to the east, join them.

  “Trent,” Wellington said as he left, “take yourself up to the brigade on the ridge. I’m asking Saltoun and his First Foot to do the same. You shall know soon enough if we must reinforce this place.”

  Even as David promptly set off to pull Incendio from the stable in the south offices, he fought his frustration. To spend all night helping to fortify the farm-only to hand it over to the Nassauers! But he knew he might as easily have been directed to the other end of the allied line. As he followed shortly after the duke’s own departure through the north gate, he advised two privates attending it to shut it behind him.

  “But, sir, we was told to keep it open for supplies and such,” one of them responded.

  “Surely you can tell the difference, man? Open it as needed. There’s little call to give the French a hearty welcome.”

  “Aye, Major.”

  David galloped out under the elms and up the rain-soaked slope to the other Coldstream companies. Less than half an hour after he’d transferred to the main position, French guns opened engagement, booming across the valley with a terrific roar. The allied artillery answered in turn. At least five batteries of French guns could be seen to the south of Hougoumont, yet they were set to firing upon the allied line instead of the farm. The woods just beyond the farm were alive with the blasts of musketry, where the Nassauers would be fighting to retain their forward position against astonishing numbers of French infantry. With his telescope David could see, even amid all the gunpowder smoke, the German troops break the cover of the woods and flee to the orchard and farmyards. But as soon as the French attempted to follow suit and break the cover of the trees, they became targets along the south side grassy lane, taking devastating fire from the south gate and muskets positioned along the garden wall. Though some French managed to reach the large orchard on the east, they were soon driven back. Thus David watched an initial assault upon Hougoumont end, with its defenses of the previous night having held. Wellington need not risk drawing backup forces from the center of the allied line-yet.

  The noise from the guns and the responding fire was deafening. Positioned as they were in reserve behind Hougoumont, David and the First and Coldstream regiments were somewhat protected by the farm and trees. But men fell from artillery strikes nonetheless, as they were standing on the forward slope of the ridge and could not break rank.

  David was next aware of a clash to the west of the farm, where the French must have made a move to outflank it. The light company of Coldstream infantry, who had retained the kitchen garden to the west of the barn since the previous night, were now being pushed back to the north gate. Overwhelmed by their attackers, the British troops fled inside to the courtyard, only to be closely followed by the French.

  “Blast!” David fumed aloud. “Close that bloody gate!” About thirty French troops had spilled into the courtyard. More French were massed on the west side of the farm, attempting to outflank the allied position. The British guns behind them were trained to the west but could do nothing about the gate itself without risking hitting the defenders. The gates began to close, even as David and the colonel of his regiment, Colonel Woodford, raced down with their companies to clear the French threatening the north side of the farm. With a furious will and effort to repulse them, they drove the French away from the gate area, completely around the west side of the barn, and back into the woods.

  David reentered the farm with the reinforcing companies of British infantry and helped disperse them throughout the buildings and garden. Already there were wounded men inside the stables and barn, but they could not be removed while further assaults were expected. The day was growing hot. David made certain the wounded were receiving water and downed a cup himself. He learned that Colonel McDonnell, whom Wellington had placed in command at Hougoumont, had personally helped close the north gate amid that last intrusion.

  Behind the gate and cowsheds the inner courtyard was now covered in the bodies of the blue-coated Frenchmen who had dared to enter the farm. Only one French uniform remained upright, that of a young drummer boy, the only one spared. He looked shocked.

  “Would you speak with him, Major?” a beefy sergeant asked. “He doesn’t speak English.”

  David nodded and introduced himself to the lad, who could hardly be treated as a prisoner. Nor could he be considered a combatant, for he had lost even his drum. He said his name was Guillaume.

  “Ah, another ‘Billie,”’ David muttered aloud. “And more trouble.” He had to fight a sudden flood of memory.

  He handed the boy the carefully preserved lumps of sugar that were Incendio’s treat after every battle. At first the boy eyed the sweet suspiciously. He tentatively licked one lump. But he was soon relishing it. As David led him to the south courtyard, thinking to lodge him with the gardener, who had, inconceivably, wished to stay with his young daughter at the farm, David asked distractedly about the boy’s home in France. But his mind was on the battle still raging about them; he knew there was worse to come.

  “I shall come back for you,” he told the boy, who, despite stroking Incendio’s black muzzle with care and apparent calm, looked permanently wide-eyed. The youth had already seen more of war that morning than most men saw in a lifetime.

  David reentered the formal garden. As he approached the eastern wall, fronting the orchard, the guards defending it started firing. The French, having hacked through part of the hedge, were attempting to invade the orchard.

  Seeing that the French aimed to bypass the farm through the orchard, David sent men to reinforce the wall at the southeast corner, where the brick wall met the hedge. From behind Hougoumont, Lord Saltoun’s First Foot guardsmen swept in to confront the French in the orchard, the Guards fighting their way forward beneath
the apple trees, compelling the French to return to the woods, to which they now laid claim.

  As he turned back to the chateau buildings, David stepped upon one flimsy firing platform and quickly popped up to look over at the grassy strip beyond the wall. The lane was strewn with the dead, even as close as the wall itself, where some, attempting to scale the brick, had been bayoneted.

  Three assaults, David thought, moving briskly back to the south gate, and still we hold.

  Behind him, at the center of the allied line, the noise from artillery, firing guns, and the screams and yells of men amounted to a roar. Little more than a thousand yards separated Hougoumont from the next farm, La Haye Sainte. That farm was just forward of the allied center, where Wellington kept watch with his staff. David knew that if the thousand yards of fields between them looked anything like the greenway south of Hougoumont, this gentle valley would soon be covered in corpses rather than crops.

  From the south-facing offices, a cry went up that the French had brought forward a heavy gun, a howitzer, right to the edge of the wood. It was remarkable that the French had not attempted to bring up such a gun before now; a howitzer’s high trajectory might reach them, where cannon fire could not. A company of Guards rushed at the threat, but they were forced back into the orchard. Emboldened, the French renewed their attacks upon the garden, where the Nassauers and British infantry were compelled to fight like skirmishers in close combat over the wall. But steady musket fire kept the French howitzer from being manned.