Waterloo (Napoleonic Horseman Book 6)

by Griff Hosker

  It was not over and both cuirassiers and chasseurs pursued us. It would have gone ill for us had Sir Alexander not brought two squadrons of Life Guards to charge the French. They came just in time. The Hussars were exhausted and battered. The huge Life Guards tore through the lancers as though they were not even there. They showed the Hussars how to deal with lancers.

  We had done well. We had lost barely a hundred men in the retreat yet there was still an air of despondency as we trudged into the relative safety of our new camp. British soldiers, as I had discovered at Corunna, do not retreat well. They are obstinate and always believe that they can turn and bite at the animals who snap at their heels.

  I saluted the Hussars. They raised tired hands in acknowledgement as I led Pierre, who looked as though he could keel over at any moment, to Wellington’s headquarters. Every inch of me was wet. The rain had not stopped for hours. We were not to know it but that rain probably saved the Duke of Wellington’s reputation. We did not discover that until the next day. What we did know was the roads and tracks became impassable quagmires. Cannon wheels became embedded in the mud and everyone was soaked to the skin. Red jackets began to weep into white overalls making the redcoats look rusty from head to toe.

  I followed Sir Arthur to the rooms he had secured. I knew we would be luckier than the men who would have to bivouac in the pouring rain. The lucky few would have tents but the rest would have to shelter beneath hedges, wagons, guns, their limbers, indeed anything which kept a little of the pernicious and incessant rain at bay.

  Sharp was in the stables with Wolf. We would, at least, have a spare horse the next day. That would be of some consolation. I actually smiled once we entered the stables. It was a relief to stand without rain driving into every orifice. Sharp held out some cheese and some bread. It seemed it was all that I had eaten for days and I was sick of it but I ate it anyway.

  “The roads are full of deserters and the wounded, sir. I had to leave the roads many times. If tomorrow does not go well for us, sir, then none of us will reach Brussels. The roads will be choked.”

  “I think the Duke knows his business, Sharp, but one thing is certain. Tomorrow will decide the fate of Europe for the next few years.”

  "Do you think we might lose this time, sir? It was a little too close yesterday and today."

  "I do not know. The despondency in the retreat was because we were falling back. It was not because we were beaten. The men who face Boney tomorrow are still undefeated and that is my hope. That and Sir Arthur."

  When I had eaten I donned my cloak as I headed for the Duke's quarters.

  “I’ll sleep in the hayloft again, sir. It is warm, at least.”

  “I will join you when I have received my orders from the Duke.” I endured the rain in the short run to the house. The Duke was alone and seated poring over a map. He acknowledged my presence with a nod. I hung my cloak close to the fire to allow it to dry. I saw the steam rising from it as the heat drove the damp away. I wondered about poor Martha Deacon. I hoped that she and her children had reached Brussels quickly. I dreaded to think of the four of them walking through this deluge.

  “The rest have gone to bed, Matthews. I am afraid they left neither food nor drink for you.”

  “It matters not, sir. Sharp procured both for me.”

  He laughed, “Old soldiers. You always know how to campaign. Of course it helps having a good fellow like Sharp. He is loyal to you.”

  “He is more of a friend than anything.”

  The Duke looked shocked. “’Pon my word you are a strange fellow. Isn’t he your servant?”

  “He was sir but now we are partners in our business.”

  He shook his head, “Trade, business, farming, they are all a mystery to me.”

  “What will you do when we have defeated Bonaparte then sir?”

  “You are confident that we can beat him then?”

  I smiled, “I know that you think you can beat him and that is good enough for me.”

  He nodded and waved me around to his side of the table. He prodded the map. “This rain is a godsend. His balls will plough into the ground and not ricochet into our infantry. When he attacks he will have to wade through mud to do so. What we need to do is stop him outflanking us. That is why I have put some strong forces to the west. Then we must hold on until Blucher comes. It will be a hard pounding. I believe our boys will stand the pounding but the question is will the Dutch and the Belgians? He will out gun us and outnumber us. The Dutch and the Belgians have done well but they have been badly knocked about.”

  He yawned and shook his head and leaned back in his seat. I could see that he was close to exhaustion. Yet he still kept going. He was quite remarkable. He had less sleep than his soldiers and that was something they would find hard to believe.

  “We lost too many good men yesterday at Quatre Bras. The 69th, 73rd, 44th; all of them suffered too many casualties. They lost many good officers and sergeants. Those three battalions were amongst the most experienced we had and now they have been halved. Even the Guards were hurt. Bonaparte still has his Old Guard. He did not use them today or yesterday.” He looked at me keenly. “I know that you know about the Guard. Tell me about them.”

  “They are, as you know, the veterans of Bonaparte’s army, Unlike the Guards that we have their officers do not come from privileged backgrounds. All began as ordinary soldiers and progressed through the ranks. They have done all the menial tasks that was asked of them. They have stood in columns and squares and suffered cannon fire. They know their business. They are all good soldiers. They are totally loyal to the Emperor. When they attack a few rounds of canister will not deter them. They will keep coming. They are like a savage fighting dog which will keep fighting even when all hope is gone. You have to not only kill them but destroy every vestige of their existence. The good news is the Emperor will save them until the end. He will not be profligate with his Old Moustaches. He will only use them when victory is in sight or all is lost.”

  He rose and stretched. “Thank you for that. It confirms what I thought. I shall retire. We rise at six.”

  “Yes sir.”

  He left me there. It was typical of the man that he did not worry about me or my comfort. I decided to let my clothes dry out before I retired. I rested my head, briefly, on the table. I awoke stiff with my head over a numb arm and a dead fire. I had been so tired that my body had ordered me to sleep. At least my clothes were dry.

  I pulled out my pocket watch. I was amazed that it was still working but then it was very expensive. The watchmaker had assured me that it would never let me down and so far he had been right. It was four o’clock in the morning. I raked out the fire and put more wood on the embers. I blew on the glowing embers and the flames began to grow; it soon flared up and started to take the chill from the room. I stood with my back to the fire and scanned the room. I was looking for sustenance. The locusts had finished everything off. There was no food whatsoever in the hotel. I donned my cloak and went outside.

  Chapter 10

  Dawn had broken and the skies were clearing. There were still a few clouds scudding along but there was enough blue to promise a better day. My boots were sucked into the mud as I stepped towards the stable. Then I stopped. Sharp needed his rest I would let him sleep. I turned and headed to the edge of the village where I could view Mont St. Jean and the ridge. The smoke from the camp fires mixed with the steam of drying clothes and the British camp looked as though it was wreathed in fog. It seemed to me that the soldiers had had a bad night sleeping in mud and pounded by rain. I doubted that they had had much food either. It was no wonder that they often took to looting after a victory. After all those privations they would have to fight a battle! As I looked across the valley I took heart from the fact that the French had had to endure the same conditions and, perforce, they would have reached their bivouac later than us. It was a thin glimmer of hope but I clung to it.

  I heard steps behind me and I turned to see Sir
Thomas Picton. His face was drawn. “Are you unwell, Sir Thomas?”

  He drew me closer. His spoke confidentially to me. “Hit in the side yesterday by a damned cannonball and then fell off my horse when the French cavalry attacked. I think I have cracked a rib or two.”

  “Have you seen a surgeon sir?”

  He laughed, “See a saw bones Matthews? I don’t need leeches. I shall be better once we are sending Boney back to Paris. I shall grin and bear it. Besides today is the day. We will either win or the Old Guard will be marching over our bones as they head for the Channel.”

  “This day is better than yesterday. Perhaps the outcome will be better too. We left the field in good order.”

  “Aye, Matthews and the French will have the devil's own job to climb that ridge. But we were lucky the other day. Ney should have had us between two pieces of bread. I hope we haven't used all our luck."

  “The Dutch did well to hold them off. Prince Bernard is a sound general.”

  “Better than bloody Slender Billy! Ye Gods but the man is incompetent.”

  I was pleased that someone else shared my view. I nodded my agreement. “I had better go and see if the Duke needs me. He said he would rise at six and it is close to that time already.”

  Sir Thomas nodded, “You watch yourself today, Matthews. It will get bloody and hot close to the Duke. He always puts himself where the greatest danger is to be found.”

  “I will, sir, and make sure you have your ribs looked at.”

  “After the battle, after the day is won, then I will.” He looked wistfully at the sky, “I think this will be my last battle, Matthews. I have been fighting long enough.”

  “Amen to that sir and it will be my last too.”

  “Then let us hope that we both manage to leave the battle using our own legs and not a stretcher.”

  I found that Sharp was up and about. He had already saddled Wolf. “I thought we could give Pierre a bit of a rest today.”

  “Good idea.” I suddenly noticed he was not saddling his own horse but another. It was a French horse. “Where did you get that one?”

  “When I was heading back to Brussels I saw this one in a field. It is a lancer’s horse. I think a few lads had tried to catch him and he was a little skittish. I spoke to him in French and he stayed still. He’s a good ‘un sir.” I felt better already. It meant we both had remounts.

  We led our horses out. Until we knew the Duke’s plans we could leave our spare mounts in the stable. The Duke’s servant passed us as we left the stables. “Morning John, is Sir Arthur up and about?”

  “Yes sir, complaining that his horse isn’t ready.” He chuckled. “The young gentlemen were woken rather rudely by his shouts, sir. I think it will be just you two who are ready to ride with him this morning.”

  The Duke strode into the stables. “Morning Matthews, Sharp.” He pointed to the heavens. “Well it has stopped raining.”

  “Yes sir but the ground is still too muddy to move guns.”

  “Hmn, we shall see.”

  “Don’t forget sir that Bonaparte likes his twelve pounders. They take some moving.”

  “You may be right.” He looked up irritably. “Where is the fellow with my horse?”

  John scurried out leading the grey from his stall. He put his hands out and the Duke stepped up into the saddle. I shook my head as he turned the horse and headed towards the ridge.

  I leaned down to the servant who had been ignored. “Thank you, John.”

  The servant shrugged, “It is just his way, sir.”

  We rode to the ridge and I could see that almost all of the soldiers were up and about. We headed for the forward positions. There was a sandpit by La Haie Sainte and it was filled with the familiar uniforms of the rifles. The three of us headed towards them. They were one of Sir Arthur's favourite regiments.

  “Fancy a cuppa sir?”

  The cheery riflemen held out a mug of tea for the Duke. “I don’t mind if I do.”

  We dismounted and Sharp took out one of the loaves he had acquired in Brussels the previous day. He offered it to the green jackets. It was stale but the riflemen took it gratefully and handed us both a cup of tea.

  I pointed across the valley. “Have the French been up to much?”

  “A couple of officers rode forward and checked the ground. I think they were seeing if they could move their guns. Apart from that they are just getting a brew on themselves.” The rifleman looked at me, “Do the French drink tea sir?”

  “They are like you lot they will drink anything if they have to but they prefer coffee. If they can’t get coffee they roast acorns and grind them up.”

  He nodded sagely, “Funny that. They look like us but we as different as chalk and cheese.”

  He did not know how wrong he was. I had fought in both armies and knew them to be cut from the same cloth.

  The Duke handed back his mug. "What is the ground like then? You have been here all night."

  "It is what we call claggy, at home sir."

  "Claggy?"

  "Yes sir. Very muddy but the kind of mud which clings to you and sucks you down. Not very nice. I wouldn't want to be Johnny Frenchman trying to move those cannons in this stuff sir."

  "Come along Matthews. Thank you, gentlemen. I hope you will do your duty this day. I am counting on you.”

  “Don’t you worry sir, we’ll cut old Boney down to size and that's no error.”

  We rode to the farmhouse and saw that the Hanoverians were trying their best to make the farmhouse defensible but there were no gates. The Duke offered advice to the major who was in command. "Have water close by, not to drink you understand, but to put out fires. It is crucial that this is held as long as possible. If you can stop the French from taking it then they cannot bring their guns close to our lines. Do your best eh? There's a good fellow."

  We headed towards the chateau. "Sir, if they cut loopholes then that might help them to defend it."

  "Why the devil didn't you say something back there then? I can't think of everything . You are an aide, so aid me!"

  I shook my head. This was not like the Duke but I put it down to tiredness. In a way it was a compliment as he rarely showed that he was irritated.

  As we neared the chateau we heard the pop of muskets. It began at the far side of the valley and rippled across towards us. It started on the French side too. There was another similarity; both sides cleared the old powder from their muskets before reloading with fresh. The first shot had to be perfect for who knew what the target might be. This was another sign that the soldiers on both sides knew that the battle was drawing closer. It was like the clearing of a throat before an actor spoke.

  When we reached the chateau I saw that there were Coldstream Guards within under Lieutenant Colonel James Macdonell. This was in addition to the Nassauers. That immediately gave me hope. I also saw my old friend Major Philippe Von Normann. While the Duke spoke with the colonel I dismounted to chat to Philippe.

  He smiled as he shook my hand, “I wondered if you had survived. Each time I saw you I watched as you charged into the fray recklessly. I did not think I would see you again. Have you a death wish, my friend?”

  “No, Major, but I have learned, over the years, that he who hesitates is often lost. It is better to strike and be positive about the strike. " I nodded to the chateau. "At least you have nice strong walls about you here and support from the rear.”

  "Yes we are not as exposed as we were at Quatre Bras." He leaned in, "Tell me Major Matthews. How do you rate our chances today?" He pointed across to the other ridge. Those are big guns. At that range they cannot miss."

  "True but, if you notice, they have not yet begun to fire. Had Bonaparte been able they would have been pounding us since early morning. He cannot fire them and the longer he waits the more chance we have of Blucher arriving."

  Just then the Colonel of the Coldstreams appeared, “Major Von Normann the Duke would have loopholes cut. Be so good as to get your fellows
to begin that work.”

  “Sir. I shall see you later, I hope.”

  "I am confident we shall. Good luck to you and your men."

  “Come along, Matthews. We have much to see.” Once again I heard the irritation in the Duke's voice. Pleasantries were not for soldiers.

  It was ten thirty by the time we reached the elm tree on the top of the ridge at Mont St. Jean. This would be the unofficial headquarters for the rest of the day. The lieutenants were used as uniformed messenger pigeons as they rode back and forth to the Prussians so that the Duke would have an accurate assessment of the time of their arrival. I knew he was becoming more nervous when he began to constantly ask for the time. The timing of the Prussian arrival was vital.

  “Matthews, ride towards the French and see if you can spy any movement eh?”

  It was a pointless exercise as the enemy’s movements could be seen just as well from the top of the ridge but I did as asked. As I passed the sandpit, Captain John Kincaid hailed me. I had known him since Spain. “How is Old Nosey then, Major Matthews?”

  “Irritable. He wants the battle to start but not yet. It is a dilemma for him.”

  “Where are you off to then?”

  “Going to spy out the French and see what they are up to.”

  “We can see all that there is to see."

  "I know but he wants me to go, Johnny, and go I shall."

  He laughed, "They have those big buggers already in place. Twelve pounders.” He pointed to the sand pit. “My lads and I will hide down there when they start. I would not want to be with you on the ridge. It is less than half a mile from those guns and I think that Old Nosey will be the target.”