Soldier Spy (The Napoleonic Horseman Book 4)

by Griff Hosker

  “You must have some local men who work in the mountains. Use them.”

  “It is too late. I assume the French are pursuing you?”

  “Yes but not too closely.”

  “They will attack tomorrow then. It is too dark to send them tonight and tomorrow will be too late.” There was a certain amount of logic to his statement but it would be worth the try to send a few hundred militia into the mountains. Having seen their performance in the line they would be better serving in their natural habitat. “What happened … in detail I mean.”

  “The French tried a night attack which we beat off. The next day they sent in four battalions of light infantry with cavalry support. Your colonel tried to kill them with ball and it was wasted. Then the militia fired too early. When the light infantry began to pick off the gunners the guns stopped firing and the cavalry advanced. Once the light infantry got to work the militia collapsed and the cavalry charged. The colonel fought until the end but the men were not good enough. It was a waste of men.”

  He nodded, “Hindsight is a wonderful thing, Captain Matthews, it always gives you a perfect view of events but we have to deal with the situation in which we find ourselves today. Hopefully the Marshal will reach us soon; if not then we will have to fight a long day tomorrow until he arrives.” He smiled at me. “I have no doubt that he will come and we will share in a great victory. If you would use your men as you choose tomorrow then I would appreciate it.”

  I nodded, gratefully, “As we are mounted and have carbines, I will keep us mobile to fill gaps. Where will you be sir?”

  “I will be here so that I can see the battle unfold before me and react quickly.”

  I left him. He was well intentioned, that much was obvious, but he had no idea how to fight the French war machine. He was like the British when they fought the colonists in America. He wanted his enemy to stand in straight lines and trade volleys; last man standing. That was doomed to failure on two counts; firstly the French Tirailleurs would swarm all over the field and not present a solid target and secondly because his men had neither the skill nor the discipline to trade volleys. Napoleon was about to capture Italy and there was nothing I could do about it.

  Lieutenant Jackson had excelled himself. We had a whole field to ourselves on the other side of the village. Already fires were going and Sergeant Grant had managed to acquire a couple of huge cooking pots. He pointed to the hills. “Sir, I took it upon myself to send Trooper Sands and Trooper Cooper up into the hills to get some game.” The two men were natural hunters. “I thought the lads might like a change from dried meat.”

  “Well done, Sergeant Grant.” I turned to Sergeant Sharp. I gave him a handful of silver coins. “See if you can get a few bottles of local red wine. Just enough for a bottle for the stew and a swig for each of the troopers. They have earned it.”

  “Right sir.”

  Defeat, even when it is not of your own doing, leaves a sour taste in the mouth. No one likes to run; least of all my men and I wanted them to know that I was proud of them. Perhaps the taste of rough Italian wine might take the taste from their mouths.

  We ate well with a stew containing a whole menagerie of animals. I deemed it best not to enquire too closely about their provenance. There appeared to be some particularly small bones. They did help to pick the meat from between our teeth. The wine was rough but made wonderful gravy for the stew. The mouthful of wine each made the men feel as though it was special. As we were so far behind the front line I knew that we would not need to have pickets out and the men had a good night’s sleep; the first since we had landed.

  The French appeared at nine o’clock in the morning. They were hard to see for the wind was blowing snow from the mountaintops into the faces of the waiting Neapolitans. The weather would not suit them. They hunkered down behind barriers rather than watching for the enemy. Reynier was just using light infantry. They made no attempt to close with the Neapolitans. They just spread themselves in a long line facing the waiting battalions. I had the men mount and be ready for action while I sought the general. He seemed pleased. “They have not attacked yet. The Marshal still has time to get here.”

  “I would still send men to the mountains.”

  He handed me his telescope. “Look for yourself. They are devoid of anyone; French or Neapolitan.”

  “They could be on the far side.”

  “You are clutching at straws. Listen Robert, I appreciate your efforts but I have a feeling that today we will halt the French here and begin to drive them back north.”

  I returned to my men. I ordered them to dismount; there was little point in tiring out our horses. We had no idea what the day held. “We are waiting on the French.”

  Sergeant Grant had a bone from one of the animals we had eaten in the stew and he gnawed on it like a dog. He used it to point out features. “The thing of it is sir, we can do bugger all here. It is too narrow and hilly. This is not cavalry country. Those French light infantry, now they impressed me. They were good shots and they were fast. If I was the general I would worry about them.”

  I nodded glumly; it did not make me feel any better that my sergeant had spotted the same weakness in our disposition as me. “I know. Keep your eyes on the mountains. If you see blue then let me know.”

  The French attack began at about three in the afternoon. A brigade of French infantry with drums beating began to march forward. I heard the crack as the Neapolitan cannon fired. It was hard to see from our vantage point but I heard little to indicate that they had caused much damage.

  Suddenly Sergeant Dale shouted, “There sir, on the right and behind us. French infantry.”

  I grabbed my telescope and peered in the direction of the mountains. Sure enough there were French light infantry hurtling down to attack the right flank and the rear of the Neapolitan army. British soldiers could turn and fight two enemies; I had seen them do it in Egypt. These half trained militia would run.

  “Lieutenant, send a rider to warn the general. The rest of you mount up. Let’s see what we can do.”

  The problem we had was that we had to go around the town. It would take some time but it would bring us up on the rear of the French. It would give us a slight advantage. I just hoped that the right wing would hold until we got there. The houses before us hid the conflict from view but we heard the collective groan as the Neapolitans were attacked from the front and the flank.

  “Draw sabres!” The sound of a hundred sabres was like the hissing of a giant snake. As we turned the corner we saw the French falling upon the Neapolitans who were fleeing. We could do little but we had to do something.

  “Charge!” The strident notes of the bugle made the French turn. I saw the horror on their faces as they saw the column of horses and steel.

  Light infantry hate cavalry. We are their nemesis and so it proved. We fell upon them and they were facing the wrong way. Their shakos gave them no protection and their tattered uniforms even less. They were cut to ribbons. I almost felt sorry for them until I saw the demoralised Neapolitan army fleeing west. We rode and killed until the horses were too tired. I halted the line. I suddenly saw the French infantry battalions marching resolutely towards us. Their muskets would make mincemeat of us.

  “Jones, sound the retreat. Fall back.”

  I allowed most of the troopers to pass me and then Sergeant Sharp and I followed. Sadly I saw four empty saddles gallop passed. We had not emerged unscathed. As soon as we were out of danger I ordered the column to halt. The loose horses were recovered and the men primed their weapons. We were not out of danger yet.

  I turned to them all so that they could hear. “We will head for Reggio. The pass will be filled with the refugees from this battle. We will force our way through but do not hurt any of them. They have been through enough. Follow me.”

  It was difficult but I forced my way through the maelstrom of humanity trying to escape the French. The Chasseurs sensed victory and were pushing hard. Badger, luckily, was a very
patient horse, and did not react adversely to the knocks he suffered as we gradually worked our way through the crowds. Our task was made easier when the French began firing on those at the rear of the mass of humanity. Those near us threw themselves to the ground and the press eased slightly. As the narrow defile darkened we found ourselves clear of the largest crowd.

  We slowed to allow our horses to recover and I debated what we ought to do. A large part of me wanted to ride as hard as I could for the coast and board one of our ships. On the other hand there were a large number of Neapolitan soldiers who might be saved to fight another day. I compromised. “Lieutenant Jackson, Sergeant Grant, come here please.” They approached, “How many dead George?”

  “Looking at the empty saddles there must be four although some may just be wounded or prisoners.”

  I looked him in the eye. He was being an optimist. “Let us assume they are dead for the moment. Who were they?”

  “Hargreaves, Simpson, Wake and Thomas.”

  I nodded. It was important to have the name and picture the man. They were all good men. “Now we could push hard to the coast. It would take us two days of hard riding. What I want to do is to take it slower and see if we can help any of these Neapolitans to get to Sicily and fight again.”

  “That’s risky sir, with respect.”

  “You are right to question me, James, and it is risky. I am taking a calculated risk. I think that we will have warning of the French; even if that warning is just a mob running away from their weapons. So long as we keep ahead of the main group of soldiers we should be safe. If we can I want to give the French a bloody nose and slow them down. It worked when we rescued the Queen. There is no reason why it should not work again.” This time they both nodded. “George, is there anyone wounded?”

  “Just Corporal Lows, sir.”

  “Right send him with another trooper to Reggio. The navy need to know that there will be refugee soldiers heading their way and I want a ship holding for us. Make sure he understands that.”

  “Don’t worry sir, Arthur is reliable. He will be annoyed to be missing the action but he will get the job done. Don’t you fret.”

  We got off the road when it was well passed dark. We set up a cold camp in a small valley close to the main road. A stand of trees hid us from the main road but we could hear the pop of muskets and the occasional scream of death. We shared the picket duty. I split mine with Lieutenant Jackson.

  When dawn broke I saw that we were close to the sea. It was a wide plain and, in the distance I could see a small town which looked defensible. I stored that information for future reference. The morning also brought a string of soldiers. I was delighted to see that many of them still had their weapons. It looked like one or two officers had managed to keep some of the men together. It was from them that I discovered that the Marshal’s army had also fled in the face of fierce French forces. There were no Neapolitan soldiers now, in Calabria, save for the besieged garrison north of Naples. I asked one colonel about the bay. “What is that called?”

  “Gulf of Sant'Eufemia.”

  I told all the officers the same thing, “Head for Reggio and the Royal Navy.” We even added to our number. A few troopers, travelling alone or in pairs found us and begged to join our company. They wanted the protection of our guns and a chance to fight back. It seems our name preceded us. In addition they were hurt at the magnitude of defeat.

  When we were a day from Reggio I had a hundred and fifty assorted cavalrymen at my disposal. We had taken to riding along the two edges of the road to allow the infantry to pass between us. I was taking a turn, with Sergeant Sharp, at the rear. Suddenly I heard, “Captain Matthews!”

  I turned and saw Trooper Wake helping a wounded Trooper Thomas. “11th Halt! Sergeant Grant, to the rear.”

  George Grant was an unofficial doctor and he galloped to join us. “Now then Harry, what is it?”

  “I got a bayonet in me leg sarge. It hurts like buggery.” We cut his breeches and saw that the wound was poisoned. “That looks bad, sarge. Will I lose me leg?”

  “Not if I can help it.” He looked up at Sergeant Sharp. “You have a good nose. I want a dead animal.” Alan gave him a curious look. “We need maggots. Bring me as many as you can get.” When Alan left he said to me, “The maggots will eat the dead flesh. It will smell but he will live and he won’t lose the leg.”

  Some of the other troopers gave them a drink and some food. Trooper Wake pointed behind us, “Sir, there is a squadron of Chasseurs and they are only a couple of miles back.”

  “Right. Sergeant Dale, detail a couple of men to look after these two. I want them getting to Reggio as soon as we can. Lieutenant Jackson, I want half of the men dismounted and hidden behind those trees on the two sides of the road. When they are in position come back here I have another job for you.”

  Sharp returned with a squirming mass of maggots. “Lovely, give them here.” A horrified Thomas watched as they were wrapped beneath a bandage. “There that will do. “Smith, West, bring two spare horses and get these two lucky lads to Reggio.”

  “But sarge, I can still fight.”

  “No you can’t; now be a good pair of lads and obey orders.” Helping his wounded comrade Trooper Wake went to the two horses. “Right sir what now?”

  “I am going to try to hurt the Chasseurs. I will keep all of the volunteers and half of our men. When the French see us I am going to pretend to flee. When they pass between you and Sergeant Sharp you keep firing at them. We will then turn and charge them.” Grant nodded, “You all right with that Sharp?”

  He grinned, “Yes sir.”

  “Good, join your men. Lieutenant Jackson, I want us to pretend to be scared. When the French see us I will get Jones to sound retreat. We will ride for a hundred yards and then turn and charge them. I want you to explain that to our men. I will talk to the Neapolitans.” As soon as I explained it I had no worries. They were cavalrymen and the chance to get back at the enemy appealed to them. They liked the idea of tricking the French. I stressed that they had to obey orders and they all seriously agreed. I hoped that they would.

  We had barely got into position when I heard the thunder of hooves and the familiar sound of a French bugle. “Sound retreat. Don’t ride too fast!”

  The Chasseurs must have thought their birthday and Christmas had all come on the same day. They hurtled after us oblivious to the potential danger of an ambush. All that they saw was a bunch of stragglers. No one had stood up to them yet and it was unlikely that the dispirited horsemen before them would either.

  As soon as I heard the thunder and crack of the carbines and muskets I roared, “Charge!” and wheeled Badger around. My sword was out and my blood was up. I had run enough.

  Badger leapt forward as though he too was eager to get to grips with the French. There was a cloud of smoke where the French had been. Four of them had evaded the ambush and I saw the horror on their faces as they saw the wall of steel and horseflesh charging them. I took the head of the first one and James the man next to him. Three troopers from the Princess Regiment killed the other two. Then we were in the smoke and amongst them. There was confusion but we had the element of surprise.

  A major threw himself at me. I flicked my wrist and his sword slid away. I punched him on the side of the head and he reeled back. As he did so I stabbed him in the throat. I sensed a movement to my left and I leaned back. The blade cut some buttons from my tunic. I drew a pistol and fired at point blank range. The man’s head disappeared. The rest of my men had stopped firing now and were busy hacking and chopping at the French. The Chasseurs could not cope for they were assailed on all sides and they fled leaving horses and dead troopers littering the road.

  “Sound recall!” We could not afford to go running off after the survivors. “Collect weapons, balls, powder and horses and then let’s get down the road. Sergeant Dale, take four men as a rear guard. I want to know as soon as you see any danger.”

  “Sir!”

&n
bsp; We had been lucky. We had a few wounds and six of the Neapolitan cavalry had died when they had continued charging past the recall but that was a small price to pay. The Chasseurs had left far more of their men dead. It took ten minutes to collect all that we could. “Saddle up and let’s head for Reggio.”

  We were a weary band of horsemen when we finally limped into Reggio. The men we had sent back awaited us with the Indiaman which had brought us across. Marines guarded it to prevent other refugees claiming a berth. A lieutenant from ‘Britannia’ was with the marines. “Thank God you made it sir. We were getting worried.”

  I pointed behind me. “There will not be many more. I do not think the French will be too close yet.” I smiled, “We let them know there were British troops in Italy and discouraged them.” I watched as more Neapolitans were allowed aboard one of the other transports. “How many have you taken off?”

  “So far almost two thousand. It was a good job you sent the message when you did. We were able to bring more ships over.” He lowered his voice, “So Italy is lost.”

  “I am afraid so and the men you have seen are all that remain of their army.”

  “Good God!”

  “Quite. And now, lieutenant, I will get my men aboard the ship.”

  Chapter 15

  This time there was no reception party for us. This was no dramatic rescue or victory to be celebrated. This was a disaster. True we had pulled many men from the jaws of defeat but we had barely hurt the French. I suspected that we had probably killed as many men as the whole of the Neapolitans and their army. I wondered what had happened to the general. I had seen no one above the rank of captain on the retreat to Reggio. Was he a prisoner or was he dead like Colonel Sciarpa?

  The ships had been arriving in Messina for days and the initial shock and interest had waned. We disembarked to an empty quay. “Lieutenant Jackson, take the troop back to Giuseppe’s. I will report to the General. Sergeant Sharp, come with me.” As we rode through the quiet streets I asked Sharp about his first experience of independent command. “Well Alan, how was it commanding men on your own?”