by Ron Pearse
As he spurred his horse up the incline towards the summit, Tallard looked behind him observing the puffs of smoke followed by the boom of his cannon as his batteries continued to pound the enemy deployments in the valley below. He stopped his horse and watched a gunner put lighted taper to powder, saw, if not heard the hiss of ignition, followed a fraction later by a belch of flame and smoke, then heard the boom and watched the cannon-ball strike the ground, career bouncing along the stubble and then heard the sickening squelch of impacted flesh and bone, the spurt and spray of blood and guts as a horse disintegrated, while the ball careered yet further losing speed but not momentum as a spout of blood showed a headless soldier, and still the ball did not stop hitting a basket, its contents disintegrating which event caused the ball to skid along the ground causing a dozen men to jump for their lives before it ended its career in the sodden ground yards from the Nebel.
Tallard put glass to eye and scanned the floor of the valley wreathed now in permanent clouds of acrid smoke which even higher up, made him splutter. The early morning mist had entirely dissipated and he could observe the enemy's forces marching in good order towards the river. He switched the glass towards the figure astride a white horse and recognised Marlborough.
The duke was watching his brother, General Charles Churchill on the far bank of the Nebel directing his troops forward across the river by various means already mentioned. Both troops and cavalry were still in deployment which was now proceeding apace its momentum scarcely broken by the occasional ball which found its mark, but otherwise the sheer scale of the forces in the act of crossing carried on.
Occasionally a cannonball for some quirky reason landed plumb in the centre of the stream causing an enormous spout of water which turned red as its momentum went unchecked hitting a horse in midstream which turned over and sank sometimes taking its rider, but more often he would flounder to the opposite bank and scramble up to lie panting on the sodden ground before getting up and looking for a lift-up from one of his friends.
The balls were now causing more havoc as the build up continued and there was nowhere to escape the careering projectiles. Yet Marlborough's formations assembled and deployed in accordance with his battle plan and soon the duke had another hazard as parties of sharp-shooters marched out of Blentheim, formed up on the incline and the allied soldiers heard the dread orders: "Tirailleurs! Formez en echelon! Tirez!" And the crackle of musket-fire was added to the boom, boom of cannon, men falling clutching arms, shoulders, legs and occasionally, lying prone and not moving.
There followed the cry for stretchers and the wounded and dead were hastily removed from the scene and Marlborough sent Parker to colonel Blood to advance some batteries, load with canister and soon the echelons of tirailleurs were broken up to be replaced by others but in no organised way. At this Marlborough vowed his own sharp-shooters would perform better when the time came. In the meantime he gave permission for individual sharp-shooters to fire, although their support was more psychological as muskets were ineffective from long range, unless massed together.
Eventually a troop of English musketeers was assembled to oppose the French echelons of gens-d'armes. As balls zinged between the opposing musketeers it soon became apparent, the English had the advantage not in marksmanship, in bravery or in numbers but their musket was easier to reload. Another advantage lay in their formation whereby an English fusillade had less effect than the French but took place more often.
Seeing what was happening Lord Orkney although denied permission to start assaulting the village of Blentheim, the duke wanting to mount a co-ordinated attack of both Blentheim and Oberglau, nonetheless gave orders to one of his battalion commanders with the result that a square was soon formed of three rows of soldiers. This formation was soon driving the French gens- d'armes back into the village unable to withstand it's high rate of fire whereby the front row of six fired and retired whereupon the next row fired and retired and by the time the third row had fired, the men of the first row had reloaded.
Notwithstanding Orkney’s success, the French cannonfire had not abated, their marksmanship improving all the time and the effects were plain to see in mangled men and horses. The duke called for his quartermaster supervising still the vital tasking of laying fascines across the muddy reaches of the Nebel river owing to the churned up state of the gound: "Colonel Cadogan!" yelled the duke above the uproar, Parker having been sent on another errand and the colonel had scarcely galloped to the duke's presence when he shouted: "My compliments to his highness Prince Eugene. Advise him if you please that we are ready, when he is."
The duke had scarcely finished when a loud voice proclaimed: "Cadogan! Tell 'im the Frenchies are dying to see 'im," whereby another heckler yelled: "It's us who's dying, damn you. Tell 'im to get a move on."
Cadogan was long away so the words went unheard except from a corporal who screamed: "Enough of that. Who was it? Was it you, Deane?"
"No, corp." came the quick reply but the corporal shouted back: "Let's have a bit of respect for your betters, or I'll have you flogged. Damn your eyes!" The serjeant's voice was heard: "Alright corporal. We're all on edge. Give it a rest."
At that moment a hussar in blue and gold, his face streaked in sweat and blood reined in just in front of the duke, shouting to make himself heard:
"Seine hoheit schickt Gruesse, Euer Gnaden. Es ist alles in Ordnung. Nun koennen wir los. Er wartet Ihren Befehl, monsieur."
"Vielen Dank, Herr Kapitaine. Meine Komplimente an seine Hoheit. Wir koennen jetzt anfangen." As the hussar galloped away, the duke spoke to Parker: "My compliments to his grace, lord Cutts. Let battle commence, at his discretion."
As Parker rides away up the slope towards lord Cutt's position, the duke signals another rider at his disposal to notify General Churchill of Lord Cutt's opening his offensive advising the general to get the remainder of his infantry and cavalry across the Nebel. Yet the advice appears unnecessary as the duke observes major-general Willougby, on Churchill's orders, form up his squadrons to be ready for an attack enfilading infantry between the neat columns of horse in order to form up and deliver a volley of musket-fire towards the French cannon positions.
It has a positive effect as the cannonade has definitely slowed but perhaps because the French are changing to canister to rebuff the advanced musketeers, who are now very exposed. But the volley is never loosed as the sharp-shooters pick off one gunner after another as they pour a withering fire towards the cannon positions half-way up the hill; but not for long. An escadron is suddenly pounding down the slopes from nowhere and although the musketeers form up into squares, they are no match for the French cavalry; yet their losses are limited as general Willoughby orders his own squadrons into action. The cannon-fire has stopped completely so that the crossing of the Nebel proceeds unhindered.
The skirmish over general Willoughby has another concern which the duke's glass has identified, the French general Zurlauben's massed escadrons' menacing presence beneath the forest canopy waiting for their moment. Zurlauben has the advantage of cover and must be tempted out and to do so Willoughby splits his force into two and proceeds to the right as if to provide support for Prince Eugene opposite Oberglau leaving the smaller part to proceed up the slope towards Blentheim as if to support Lord Orkney. Zurlauben sees a chance for an annihilating charge and, a half-mile distant, Willoughby is alerted by the thundering hooves.
Immediately he orders a parade-ground about-turn that owed something to Cromwell and with sword raised orders his squadrons towards the left flank of the French who do not see them so intent are they upon their prey. Willoughby urges his dragoons into the fray with blood-curdling yells and the French are caught completely by surprise and instead of routing a small force are themselves outnumbered. Willoughby's cavalry is a mixture of English, Danish, Dutch and Austrian troops but language is unimportant, as their swords and sabres wreak havoc among the French.
Horses and riders fall on all sides and the melee of thr
eshing horses and dying men impedes everybody but the slashing and sword-thrusts continue, yet the stricken horses and fallen men bring the battle to a standstill and a bugle call is the signal for disengagement of Willoughby's men who return downhill and the worsted French scent victory and in the heat of battle set off in pursuit. Zurlauben impotently watching his horsemen pursue the enemy realises too late their error for, as the allied cavalry retreat, he sees columns of sharp-shooters emerging to enfilade their own cavalry in a practised manoeuvre, and coolly form up. An officer brings down his upraised sword which is the signal for a fusillade of shots wreaking havoc upon Zurlauben's pursuing hussars, so that scarcely one survives to tell the tale.
While this cavalry battle has been going on, Lord Orkney has issued orders for the attack on Blentheim and the Duke of Marlborough watches through his glass as brigadier-general Ross leads his infantry in attack calmly advancing to the barricade as soldiers all around him fall dead or wounded victim of enemy musket-fire and placing his sword-point upon the palisade, he orders his men to stop and to fire, and a fusillade hits several of the defenders but they are mostly well protected. The crackle of muskets proceeds from both sides and the attackers use the butts of their muskets to smash at the barricades to little effect and the attackers come off worst. Ross orders a withdrawal and the bugle sounds recall leaving the brigadier who falls to the ground beneath the palisade, mortally wounded.
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This withdrawal is not a reverse but a tactic to allow Orkney to deploy with the duke's permission his batteries further up the slope upon ground won from the enemy. This takes time and a second charge follows soon after the first and the opportunity taken to remove the body of Brigadier Ross. As the infantry much reduced by enemy musketry crash against the palisades, they not only smash at the upturned tables, wagons and other parts of the palisade with butts of their muskets but also now with makeshift battering rams, heavy hammers and such like, and as the defenders are exposed by these tactics, Orkney already has musketeers ready to pour a barrage of musket balls into the gaps so that it is now the enemy who is worsted.
The bugle is sounded for retreat as Colonel Blood's batteries move into position, half of which are loaded with canister. Although the command to fire is given for all the guns, cannonading is not a precise art and inevitably there is spasmodic fire. Nonetheless the balls cause enormous damage while the canister, composed of short chains, iron pieces and such like, are disabling even when the small missile does not kill outright. He is so successful that the marquis de Clerambault has ordered some of his escadrons held in reserve between Blentheim and the Danube to attack Colonel Blood's advanced batteries.
But the duke has forseen this as he has ordered his brother, General Churchill to be in readiness for just such an attack which the French have difficulty in mounting so keen were they in their defence of the village. Colonel Blood's batteries are allowed nearly an hour of uninterrupted cannonading before the French dragoons are spotted and heard thundering from their position to the left of the village raising a cheer from their own side as they bear down upon some of the groups of cannon positioned so close to the village that even enemy musket-fire has caused casualties, but which being so close has virtually removed the palisades from one side allowing Orkney's infantry to pour through into the very roads and by-ways of Blentheim.
But now their intrepid boldness has to be paid for as the French cavalry slash at the unarmed gunners, many stripped to the waist and all they can do is run for their very lives pursued by the faster horsemen who with a single slash open up gaping wounds on naked shoulders and necks. In one encounter a gunner carries on running his head rolling beside him as his neck spouts blood. Yet that very act will be paid for as Churchill's cavalry has reached the guns having had to climb the incline to reach the enemy but now the enemy horsemen suffer casualties as the English dragoons slash, thrust and decapitate, in their turn.
Not a single French hussar escapes and as Churchill's men withdraw, the duke sends Parker to Colonel Blood to commiserate and apologise for causing his gunners so much carnage, but the professional Blood will have none of it. He approved the dispositions which brought decisive results by wrecking the French defensive palisades. The battle now is raging inside the village as Orkney leads his cavalry through the huge gaps in the enemy palisades to career along cobbled roads into the village square. His plan is to bring cannon into the village itself but first he must clear the low houses of enemy musketeers. He orders attack after attack and as more men pour into the village, he is beginning to get the upper hand, at least in one quarter of Blentheim.
The duke is highly pleased. The battle is going in the way he envisaged and even when the enemy has mounted counter-attacks, each has been repulsed. He decides to leave the left flank in the capable hands of General Churchill, and with Lord Orkney boxing in the French at Blentheim, to make his way towards his ally, Prince Eugene's position opposite Oberglau. As the duke canters towards the right flank, his ever faithful Captain Parker was at his side observing the angle of the sun's elevation and so they deduced the time of day comparing it with the duke's pocket fob. This self-same sun they observed was also slanting its rays over the heads of the enemy command on the brow of the ridge overlooking where the duke and his aide were cantering.
Marshall Tallard had left his command post in the mill finding it too hot inside and curiously divorced from the action upon both his left and right flanks. At his side was the Comte de Merode-Westerloo, whom le marechal addressed:
"Que pensez-vous monsieur le comte de notre position?" who answered to flatter:
"Nos positions sont imprenable, monsieur le marechal."
Tallard stroked both wings of his moustache and rather smugly accepted his junior's praise:
"Ce fois-ci le Malbrouk a rencontre sa taille a lutter," and the count confirmed his commander's verdict with:
"Le marquis de Clerambault is more than holding his own in Blentheim. Did you see how the enemy was forced to withdraw?"
Tallard was equally upbeat about his left flank and still ignorant of Orkney's breakthrough confirmed the marquis' assessment:
"Likewise in Oberglau, monsieur; the Prince is also making no impression so our defences our holding up well on both flanks." One disadvantage to the Franco-Bavarians is evident: Intelligence about each and every event is not reaching le marechal to enable him to react. The comte pursues his obsequious line:
"When you give the order for the massed escadrons to sweep down on their centre, monsieur, they will sweep all before them."
"Indeed, monsieur, le comte," answered Tallard complacently:
"Lord Churchill will get his first shock on his left flank. He cannot see our escadrons hidden behind Blentheim. Les Cuirassiers will cut his cavalry to pieces."
Le comte was enthusiastic: "Bravo, monsieur, a brilliant tactic. He will be thrown back into the Nebel. The day is almost ours."
Tallard allows him to finish before taking a garbled message from a mounted messenger. As he listens his face clouds over not daring to meet le comte's eyes. Both are nonplussed by the news. Tallard puts his glass to his eye and sweeps it across the valley looking for any sign of le Malbrouk but he can find none. His face is etched with concern.
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As Marlborough rounded the bluffs which had impeded his fellow commander taking up position opposite Oberglau, he spotted a fierce skirmish as major-general Wood in attempting to cross the Nebel which was narrower here and easier to ford, came under fire from a detachment of enemy musketeers who had boldly abseiled down the bluff and were now firing at the troops and cavalry in the river and were causing many casualties so the duke sent Parker back post-haste to general Willoughby, or his second-in-command, for however many squadrons could be spared to put the tirailleurs to the sword, or to flight.
The duke postponed his reconnaissance to the Prince and rode back in
Parker's wake to wait for him and was saddened by the news that in attempting to retrieve the wounded brigadier Rowe, both his lieutenant-colonel and major had been killed. Also he learned of another reverse with a happy outcome in that General Churchill in attempting to get more of his squadrons past the supremely difficult fork in the Nebel, enemy escadrons seeing the vulnerability of infantry unprotected by cavalry had charged scattering Lord Orkney's men who retired in some disorder. The enemy captured a colour but the cheering that went up from the French was heard above the noise of battle by some Hessian cavalry who having forded the Nebel were forming up, but were exhilarated by the chance to recover the lost colour, and without any direct command, quickly formed into a makeshift squadron and charged the 'victorious' French and not only forced them to retreat but also retrieved the lost colour.
Having rescued the flag sporting the emblem of a castle, and crossed swords, the Hessian Uhlan looked around and spotting the duke scanning the battlefield with his glass, he galloped over planting it triumphantly before him who indicated for Parker to accept it congratulating the man and his brave colleagues over the flag's recovery. The Uhlan was dishevelled and his face grimed with mud-caked sweat and laughing and shouting in German which Parker scarcely understood but instead of words, Parker made gestures purporting to the downing of flagons of ale which impressed the German who followed suit to much raucous laughter before riding back to his comrades.
The duke told Parker he would have promoted him then and there but had no authority to do such a thing which might be misunderstood by the Prince of Hessen commanding their troops. He continued to scan Blentheim with his glass giving his aide a running commentary:
"Gad, Parker. The French have muskets everywhere. They're poking out of windows, cracks in doors, holes in walls, as well as through the palisades and hedges. Twixt each farmhouse there's a wall of farm-carts, barn-doors, furniture of every kind. Our men cannot surround a farmhouse without running a gauntlet of cross-fire from within."
