Young bloods r-1

by Simon Scarrow

  Napoleon's gaze flickered towards the remains of their meal as he replied, 'Evidently.'

  Freron hissed,'It would be wise to show me the respect due to a representative of the Convention, Captain.'

  Saliceti intervened with a chuckle. 'Peace, Citizen Freron. My young friend meant no offence. Besides, he is a professional soldier, and they are inclined to express themselves bluntly.'

  'A soldier?' Freron looked over the slight young man standing before them and obviously did not much approve of what he saw. 'If this boy is typical of the officers who are leading our armies then our cause is as good as lost.'

  Napoleon felt his blood chill in his veins as he fought to hold back his anger. He glared at Freron, but kept his lips pressed together. Freron smiled at his expression before he turned back to Saliceti. 'Officers… Pah! If our officers are so good then why are the enemies of France driving us back on every front? We should shoot a few more of 'em to make sure the rest perform their duties properly.'

  Saliceti raised a hand to calm his companion down. 'Yes, yes. You've explained your ideas about motivating our men many times, citizen. And, in part, I agree with you. But Captain Buona Parte here has the makings of a fine officer, and he's a good Jacobin – one of us – so please, cast no aspersions on his loyalty to the revolution.'

  Freron did not look convinced and merely shrugged dismissively. 'If you say so. But I've seen little evidence of much loyalty or competence amongst the officers round here. We must count ourselves fortunate that Carteaux was available to take command of the army. He's done fine work in putting down those rebels in Lyons and Avignon. And soon he'll have sorted out that nest of traitors in Toulon.'

  'Yes, I'm sure he will,' Saliceti said smoothly.'For a man of such limited military experience he has proved to be formidable in putting down these revolts.'

  'Military experience is nothing compared to the power of revolutionary zeal.' Freron's eyes glittered behind the glass of his spectacles.'It is through that power that the revolution will succeed.'

  Napoleon listened in contempt. Zeal was only one of the forces that officers must harness. But on its own it was as much a danger as a virtue. Freron was clear proof of the need for military matters to be left in the hands of soldiers, not politicians.

  'Of course our leaders need zeal,' Saliceti agreed.'But that isn't going to help General Carteaux much right now. What he needs is reinforcements.'The representative turned towards Napoleon to explain further. 'Since the rebels surrendered Toulon to the British, the enemy have been pouring men into the defences. Besides the British, they've landed a strong force of Spanish troops, as well as some Sardinian and Neapolitan forces. We've sent for reinforcements, but what the general really needs are specialists in siegecraft. Particularly now that he's lost Captain Dommartin.'

  'Captain Dommartin?'

  'He was Carteaux's artillery commander. Badly wounded over a week ago. Now the good general says that there's little he can do until Dommartin is replaced. We've sent word to the Army of the Alps to find someone, and until they do, our men can do nothing but sit on their arses and keep watch on Toulon.'

  Napoleon felt his brain reel with the implications of this news. How unfortunate for Dommartin. How fortunate for Napoleon, if only he could persuade Saliceti and, more importantly, Freron. He cleared his throat.

  'Citizens, if I might make a suggestion?'

  'What?' Freron looked at him impatiently.'What is it, Captain? Speak up.'

  'As Citizen Saliceti is aware, I am an artillery officer.' Napoleon stiffened his posture. 'I could take command of General Carteaux's artillery.'

  'You?' Freron shook his head.'Why should we choose you? We need a specialist in siegecraft.'

  'I am a specialist,' Napoleon replied firmly. 'I have studied the subject in depth, and came top of my class at the military academy in Paris.' It was a lie, but Freron could not know that. The only risk was that Saliceti might recall the details of Napoleon's record.

  'That's no good. We need a man of experience, not a schoolboy, no matter how promising you may be.'

  Napoleon sensed the opportunity slipping from his grasp and took a step closer to Freron, leaning forward slightly to emphasise his words. 'I can replace Dommartin. Give me the cannon and I will deliver Toulon to you.' He turned to Saliceti.'Just give me the chance to prove it. That's all I ask.'

  'That's all you ask?' Freron laughed.'Not much then. Send this boy away, Saliceti, and let's get back to work.'

  'Wait!' Napoleon grasped Saliceti's sleeve. 'What have you got to lose by appointing me? I trained at the best artillery school in Europe. Besides, you need someone to command the artillery and I'm the only officer here who can do it.'

  'Well…'

  'At least appoint me until Dommartin's replacement arrives. I can start work on the siege batteries. It'll mean the new commander of artillery can press ahead with the siege as soon as he arrives.'

  Saliceti pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'That's true.'

  Freron snorted. 'Oh, come now, Saliceti! He's wasting our time.'

  'No. No, he's not. Captain Buona Parte could save us time, like he says.We've nothing to lose in appointing him.Who knows, we may even have plenty to gain. I say we appoint him. We'll do it on my authority, if you don't want to share the responsibility.'

  Napoleon kept quite still during this last exchange, hardly daring to breathe while his immediate fate was being decided. If Saliceti had his way then Napoleon would be going into combat. Laying siege to a heavily fortified town was a dirty and dangerous business, as Captain Dommartin had discovered. It might well be the death of Napoleon. But the alternative – an endless procession of ammunition convoys grinding across the uneven roads and tracks of southern France – was too much to bear.

  Freron leaned back in his chair.'You'll put that in writing?' He gave a cold smile as he scented the advantage he might wring out of the situation.

  Saliceti nodded. 'I will.'

  'All right then. On your authority. And until his replacement turns up.'

  'I agree.' Saliceti turned to Napoleon. 'I'll have my clerk draw up your orders at once.You can wait outside.'

  'Thank you, sir.' Napoleon smiled. 'I promise, you won't regret this.'

  'You had better make sure of it, Captain. I'm sure you can imagine the fate that awaits you, should you fail.'

  Chapter 74

  General Carteaux was an imposing figure. Tall, broad-shouldered and, as befitted a former cavalry trooper, he had a dark curly moustache. He muttered softly as he read through the document that the young artillery officer had presented to him. Outside the tent the sounds of the encamped army filled the air – the whinnying of horses, the casual conversation of men off duty and the harsh cries of drill sergeants.

  Napoleon had handed command of the ammunition convoy over to one of his lieutenants at first light. Taking one of the horses, he had then ridden hard down the road to Ollioules to find the headquarters of General Carteaux. As soon as he had finished reading Saliceti's letter of appointment Carteaux looked up.

  'Captain Buona Parte, your credentials are impressive. Citizen Saliceti speaks very highly of you. He seems to think you can be of considerable assistance to me.'

  'I hope so, sir.'

  'So do I. But let me make one thing quite clear.' Carteaux stabbed his finger at Napoleon. 'This is my army, and I was soldiering when lads like you were still sucking at your mother's tit. I know what I'm doing and I don't take kindly to anyone telling me how to do my job.' He leaned back. 'I had enough of that from Dommartin.You artillery types think you know it all.'

  Napoleon kept his mouth shut. There was nothing he could say without provoking this man's prejudices even further. It was better to weather his abuse and then get on with the job. He changed the subject.

  'Sir, may I ask what your plans are for the siege?'

  'My plans?' Carteaux smiled faintly. 'My plans are for me to know and you to carry out.'

  'Of course, sir. But if you c
ould let me know my part in them, then I can make sure the guns are ready to serve your needs.'

  'Very well.' Carteaux eased himself to his feet and, picking up a telescope from the top of his travel chest, he headed for the entrance to the tent. 'Follow me, and I'll explain.'

  Outside he led Napoleon to a small mound. From its crest the ground rolled downhill and there, maybe three miles away, lay the great port of Toulon, nestling beneath Mount Faron at the head of the inner harbour, where a great fleet of warships lay at anchor. Carteaux regarded the scene for a moment before addressing Napoleon.

  'It's going to be a hard nut to crack. Besides the defences of the town itself, there's a number of forts that ring the port. The three largest are Malbousquet, there nearest us, LaMalgue on the far side of the harbour, and the fort on top of Mount Faron. We must take all three if we are to control the approaches to Toulon. And then,' Carteaux waved a hand over the shipping in the harbour, 'there's the enemy fleet to deal with.We've counted over twenty ships of the line so far, and there's rumoured to be even more on the way.'

  'Rumoured?'

  'We have our spies in Toulon. They keep us well enough informed on the enemy's strength and positions. At the moment, so they tell us, the enemy has over ten thousand men in Toulon. I have twelve thousand. So I must wait until I am heavily reinforced before I begin my attack. In the meantime, I want the cannon brought up ready to support my infantry when they assault the forts. That, Captain Buona Parte, is your job.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Now, I expect you will want to inspect your new command.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Very well. The artillery park is down the hill there.' He indicated a motley collection of tents some distance behind the crudely fortified positions of the advance posts. To one side sprawled the gun carriages and limbers of Carteaux's artillery train. There was little sense of order and the few men that were visible were sitting idly by a handful of smouldering campfires.

  Carteaux nodded in their direction.'Off you go then, Captain. I want a report on the artillery's battle-readiness by the end of the day. Might as well do something useful before your replacement arrives.'

  'Yes, sir.' Napoleon stood to attention and saluted formally. Carteaux nodded his head in acknowledgement and then strode back to his tent.

  As he made his way down the slope Napoleon passed through the encampments of one of the regular infantry battalions. The men watched him sullenly as he passed by; only a few of them bothered to stand and salute. Even though the tents had been erected in straight lines the latrine ditches had been dug a short distance from the camp and were so shallow that they were already overflowing, and Napoleon wrinkled his nose in disgust as he hurried past them.

  When he reached the artillery park he took a deep breath and marched up to the nearest campfire where three men sat smoking pipes. At the sound of his approach the men turned towards him but made no attempt to stand up and salute Napoleon.

  'On your feet!' he shouted. 'Who the hell do you think you are?'

  The three men rose and reluctantly adopted a more formal posture as they saluted. Napoleon's eyes blazed as he stepped up to the nearest man and knocked his pipe to the ground. 'What's your name, soldier?'

  'Corporal Macon, sir.'

  'Corporal? Where's your stripe then?'

  'With my kit, sir.'

  'Then that's where it can stay.You're Private Macon from now on.'

  The soldier's eyes widened in surprise. 'You can't do that!'

  'I'm your new commander,' Napoleon growled.'I can do what I like, Private.'

  'No.' Macon shook his head. 'I protest.'

  'Protest noted, and you're on a charge for insubordination.' Before the man could reply Napoleon turned to one of the other men. 'Name?'

  'Private Barbet, sir.' The man stood to attention, as stiffly as he could.

  'Right then, Barbet, who's the senior officer in the camp?'

  'The officers are in Ollioules, sir.'

  'Ollioules?'

  'At the inn, sir.'

  Napoleon's expression darkened. 'What kind of a miserable excuse for soldiers are you lot?'

  The three soldiers stared straight ahead silently, not daring to meet his gaze.

  'Pah!' Napoleon spat on the ground. 'You're a fucking disgrace!'

  'What the hell's going on here?' a voice called out behind the soldiers, and an instant later a young sergeant thrust his way through the soldiers and stopped in surprise as he caught sight of Napoleon.

  'Name?'

  The sergeant snapped smartly to attention. 'Sergeant Junot, sir! Senior staff clerk to the commander of the artillery.'

  'Ah! Then you work for me.'

  'Sir?'

  Napoleon drew out his notice of appointment and handed it to Sergeant Junot. 'I am Captain Buona Parte, the new commander of artillery.'

  Junot glanced over the document and handed it back as Napoleon gestured towards Macon. 'My first order to you is to enter it into the journal that this man is reduced to the rank of private and put on a charge for insubordination. Fine him a week's pay and give him a week on latrine duties. Got that?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Very good. Next, I want you to send someone to find my officers and have them report back here immediately. Once that's done you come back to me with a notebook. I'll be over there, inspecting the guns.'

  'Yes, sir.' Junot saluted and turned towards the large tent in the centre of the camp. Napoleon turned back to the three soldiers. 'Find the rest of the men. I want everyone on parade at once. Go!'

  Napoleon strode off towards the guns, trying hard not to smile. He was pleased with himself. The first impression these men would have of him was as a stern disciplinarian, and that was just what he wanted them to think. He needed quick results from his new command. Unless he could show his superiors that he was a man who got things done swiftly and effectively, then they would not hesitate to replace him when the Army of the Alps got round to sending someone to take over from the injured Captain Dommartin.

  As he had observed from Carteaux's position, the guns, limbers and wagons had been left in a disorganised jumble and the draught animals were grazing amongst the equipment. A mule raised its head to glance at the young officer as he began to inspect the guns, then lowered its muzzle and continued to graze disinterestedly. As soon as Sergeant Junot returned, Napoleon began dictating detailed notes as they moved through the artillery park, scrutinising each gun carriage and caisson minutely. When they had completed the task Napoleon glanced over the notes.

  'Twenty-six cannon, of various calibres. Four are unserviceable, awaiting repairs.' He glanced up. 'Why hasn't the field forge repaired them?'

  'We don't have a field forge, sir.'

  'What?' Napoleon shook his head. 'How the hell can an army artillery train function without a forge?'

  'The general had promised Captain Dommartin he would see to it, sir.'

  'Did he? How long ago?'

  'A month, sir.'

  Napoleon exhaled sharply through clenched teeth. 'A month… Right, then I'll have to see to that myself. Next thing, how many men are on the strength?'

  Junot replied at once, 'Three hundred and thirteen men, including you, sir. Of those, two hundred and ninety-eight are fit for duty.'

  Napoleon looked at the sergeant with approval. Here was a man who seemed to respond at once to a challenge. 'And what proportion of the men are like those three I came across by the fire? I assume they aren't regulars.'

  'No, sir.They're volunteers. A third of the men are volunteers. The rest are regulars or naval gunners.'

  'Any other good news for me, Sergeant?'

  Junot smiled. 'Does that mean I shouldn't mention that we don't have enough draught animals to haul the guns, nor enough tools to maintain them, and there's hardly any powder and shot for the guns that we do have?'

  Napoleon took off his hat and ran a hand through his dark, lank hair. 'I see. Right then, it seems that we're about to become very bus
y in the next few days.'

  'Yes, sir.' Sergeant Junot nodded. 'It's about time.'

  Napoleon punched him lightly on the shoulder. 'Good man! Now then, I think I'd better let the men know what's in store for them. Go and announce me.'

  Sergeant Junot ran off and Napoleon waited a moment before he replaced his hat, clasped his hands behind his back and set off for the open ground in front of the tents.At his approach Sergeant Junot shouted, 'Commanding officer present!'

  Napoleon's keen eyes noted that some of the men moved with a purpose to take up their positions, but far too many shambled into place with a diffidence that wounded his sense of professionalism.

  'Move yourselves!' Junot bellowed at them.

  Napoleon walked down the front rank, scrutinising his new command, especially the four lieutenants that stood in front of their divisions. One, an aged man in a faded uniform, was clearly drunk and had great trouble standing to attention. Napoleon made his way back down the line, and stopped abruptly in front of the drunk man.

  'Name?'

  'My name?' The lieutenant slurred. 'My name is Lieutenant Charles de Foncette, Captain, sir.'

  'You are drunk, are you not?'

  The man grinned. 'Yes, my captain.'

  Napoleon quickly stepped up to him and thrust hard against the man's chest. Lieutenant de Foncette flew backwards and sprawled on his back, the impact driving the air from his lungs in an explosive gasp. Immediately he threw up, over his face and down his front.

  Napoleon pointed to the nearest men. 'You and you, throw this fat bastard out of my camp.Take him up to headquarters and leave him there. He can send someone for his possessions when he sobers up.' Naploeon waved his hand impatiently. 'Well? What are you waiting for?'

  As two men reluctantly helped the foul-smelling officer to his feet and half dragged him away, Napoleon turned to face the others. Inside his chest, his heart beat wildly.This was the moment of truth. His future depended on what he did in the very next moments. If he spoke well then these men would accept him as their leader. If he failed to appeal to that spirit in soldiers that made them achieve great things in the face of almost any adversity, then this opportunity to spur his career forward would be lost. Napoleon drew a deep breath and began.