An hour and Septimus could hand over the quayside to the senior officers of the main invasion; he made his way south to find his own people and their defensive line.
There was a picket sat on top of a sand dune overlooking a narrow strip of beach and an expanse of shining blue sea. Septimus suspected that they had their coats unbuttoned in the sunshine but chose not to investigate; had he discovered them out of uniform on active service he must have ordered them a dozen and it really was not necessary. A double line of redcoats was distributed along a waist-high stone wall, half sat, half leaning on their firelocks, all very much at their ease. The wall led inland to the west and a small stone-built farm - a house, a thatched barn and a range of pig sties; timber was short in the area and all of the boundary walls were dry-laid of smooth stone picked up along the beach. Perceval's five companies were spread thinly along the half of a mile and the two of Carter's were placed along the dogleg where they met the road to Copenhagen.
The walls were low but a man could kneel very comfortably to them and rest his musket barrel to take easy aim.
“Well done, Mr Perceval! You have men upstairs in the house to see further?”
“No, sir. The farmer has womenfolk and I will permit none of the men at all near them.”
“Sensible indeed, sir!”
“We have seen horsemen in the far distance, sir. I suspect that they will have seen our red coats. Must have, in fact, sir. Turned away to take the word back to their general, sir.”
The five companies of the Ninety-Fifth appeared on the road, using the highway to make time, intending no doubt to take to the fields only when they must extend into skirmish order. Septimus made his way across, raised a hand, palm open to signal the halt.
“My men have seen horse in the distance, Major.”
“Thank you, sir. The far distance, I presume?”
“Too far for detail, Major. They could not even distinguish Heavy from Light, but could say that they do not carry the lance.”
“One must assume Hussars, Colonel, out on surveillance. They might be mounted infantry, of course.”
“They retired quickly, so my major said. I presume a reconnaissance party. The fleet has been offshore for some little time and one must imagine the Danes to be expecting a landing. I assume they will concentrate their field army to the west where they can be reinforced at night by small ships running the blockade from Jutland. A pity that we have no knowledge of their numbers or state of training.”
The rifleman shrugged, implied that it was all one to him; he did not expect to be incommoded by a few hundreds of horsemen.
“We shall be holding at this location for the next few hours, until General Wellesley sends us word to move, sir. We will make a fall-back point if necessary.”
“Very good, Colonel. If you see us retiring upon you then you may assume the presence of a Danish army immediately to our front!”
Septimus smiled – he presumed it was a witty sally that deserved a kindly response.
An hour later Major Carter appeared with the remaining three companies and a written order from Wellesley.
“We are to remain at this location until the King’s German Legion arrive, expected to be tomorrow, one gathers. It is then intended that the Reserve Division will proceed to Copenhagen, there to take up a position to the west of the siege line which will be formed later today.”
“The remainder of the expedition is forming up now, sir. They are expected to march before noon, sir, and to be in their initial lines by dusk. It is intended to dig the First Parallel overnight.”
Septimus cast back in his memory – he had read a manual of siegecraft while bored aboard ship from India.
“The first trench, distant at random cannon shot from the defenders’ wall. We do not, of course, know what cannon they have and so must guess their range.”
Major Carter could offer a little knowledge.
“The navy say that they have forty-two pound coastal guns, all of which point out to sea and cannot be turned inland. One presumes they have lesser cannon to protect the land walls, but that is, as you say, sir, unknown.”
It mattered very little as this would be an abnormal siege. It was normally the case that the trenchlines, the parallels, must be brought in a zigzag close to the fortifications to enable the long guns to pound a breach in the walls. In this case the intention was simply to close within range of mortars and howitzers and the new rockets in order to bombard, and burn, the town. The intention was to so terrify the inhabitants as to force a surrender. It was a new concept of war, and one that many of the besiegers found unpleasant.
The motivation was unspoken, but a major aim was to take the Danish fleet in usable condition. The threat was that if the Danes sunk or burned their ships then the British would retaliate by burning their capital city and its one hundred thousand citizens. The long blockade of France was wearing out the British line-of-battle ships and there was a shortage of frigates and of sloops; the Danes had forty Fifth and Sixth Rates as well as a score of Thirds, and the Admiralty wanted them. It was still little less than highway robbery in the eyes of many of the soldiers; they did not know what the Danes thought.
The infantry marched past on their way to the siege, all in good enough order and keeping time to their bands. General Cathcart himself rode by and graciously accepted the battalion’s salute.
“Very good, Colonel Pearce. You have tents, I see.”
“Yes, sir. Winchester is a rich town and the merchants put up a subscription for us when the fear of invasion was at its height. There are those who argue that tents make the men soft, and they may be right, but they also keep the men far drier and less subject to the rheumatism.”
Cathcart graciously agreed. The remainder of his force had no more than groundsheets, and those often of the poorest quality, hardly waterproof at all. As soon as the lines were formed the men would set to as builders, using everything they could scrounge to create small huts and shacks to sleep under. At this time of year, harvest soon to come in, the cereal crops would suffer – the five foot stems of wheat and rye particularly useful for roofing while maize stalks, if to hand, were much prized for tying together as walls. The Irish soldiers were greatly in demand at this time, bribed with rum to use their special skills in building turf cabins for the whole of their company. Two days into a siege there would be a shanty town just outside of cannon range.
The skills of the officers were tested as well at this time. The company captains, should, if they were awake, take care to erect latrines, properly sited away from the water supply and downhill of the cookhouses. Those companies whose officers had brains to use found themselves suffering much less from the dysentery and camp fevers.
The ships of the King’s German Legion arrived and docked in swift succession, off-loading their people and stores in a bare half of the time the rest of the army had required. They were true professionals; their horses came ashore in good condition, almost unharmed by their time at sea; the men marched in brisk order; the quartermasters showed no signs of fear that their stores had been pilfered. Their officers kept the men together and marched them out of the tiny port as soon as each company and squadron was ashore; they had a habit of looting which was even less controlled than that of the British, could not be left unsupervised even for minutes in civilian company.
The island was low-lying and made easy marching and the Germans made quick time to their assembly point to the south and west of the siege lines. They passed the Hampshires and Septimus ordered his men into column behind them, forming a loose rearguard. There had been no sign of enemy activity in the past day.
Major Perceval marched at Septimus’ side, trying to improve his understanding of military matters.
“What of forts and garrisons to the north of the island, sir?”
Septimus shrugged; he did not know. Conventional military wisdom was that one should not leave unsubdued fortresses in the rear of an attacking army, but he was not to set hims
elf up against Generals Cathcart and Wellesley.
“The port is being held by the Marine Soldiers of the fleet under the guns of the ships. They will be safe, and our stores will come ashore without interference. We will have an open road for retreat if the need should arise. It is possible, but highly unlikely, that the French might manage to bring Bernadotte’s army across the waters of the Belt and into Zealand. He has fifty thousands, or so it is said. Added to the Danish army and its reserves, whatever they may be, and there is a possibility of three to one against us – but that is improbable.”
“What of Russia, sir?”
“You know, Major Perceval, that is a damned good question! I suspect them to be inclined towards war against us, for the while – but that may change with the next wind. Since their last military defeat I think it unlikely that they have an army to hand in the Baltic, but their fleet is probably still entire. Was they to sail against us, then Admiral Gambier might have an interesting time of it. The word is that the Admiral is not an enterprising man and might be inclined towards an excessive caution, waiting until conditions were just right for battle. He might in fact withdraw from the immediate area, preferring to face the Russians in the open sea of the German Ocean.”
“We would then be on our own, sir.”
“It would not be easy, that is for sure, Major Perceval.”
“What then, sir?”
“Take the whole of Zealand and garrison every fort and port. Difficult, but not impossible. Close the island down, steal the harvest and sit tight for the winter.”
“What would happen to the Danes then, sir?”
“Starvation, one might imagine.”
Copenhagen was an easy city to invest; it straddled two islands, was long on shoreline and only short on the inland side. A line barely two miles long cut the city off from its hinterland.
The First Parallel was established and the siege batteries were brought up; a quick assault on the second night rectified a salient and brought the whole line into easy range of the whole town. The gunners came with their mortars and howitzers and the enthusiasts in their white coats brought the rockets forward. There were many jokes among the watching soldiers about the white-coated attendants on the rocketeers and their resemblance to the attendants in the looney-bins.
And then, in the inimitable fashion of the military, very little seemed to happen for days on end.
Convoys crawled up and down the road to Vedbaek bringing the supplies of powder and empty mortar and howitzer shells and coil after coil of slow match and fuze. In the lines working parties from all of the infantry battalions toiled to emplace the siege pieces and build protected earthworks around them while the rest of the men rested in between standing guard against sallies from the walls.
The Danes inside the city manned their own smaller cannon and did their best to be awkward, firing carefully aimed shots at targets that caught their fancy. Fortunately for the British, the Danes had very few trained artillerists to spare from their sea batteries, and they missed more often than not, and their cannon were old and little. It seemed that the Danish strategists had expected attack from the sea and had made little provision in their thinking for a land invasion.
The cavalry had almost nothing to do in a siege and the regiments of the King’s German Legion rode out every day for exercise in the fields to the west and south. Inside the week they spotted a Danish field army building its strength on the west coast; observation showed small ships slipping through the blockade at night and delivering penny packets of troops to the shore, no more than a few hundreds in a week, it was thought.
Wellesley called his colonels to him; for orders not for opinions, he made very clear.
“The Reserve Division has been given the task of removing this Danish army from the field, gentlemen. They will be brought to battle, defeated and brought either to surrender or to flee the island. It matters little to us which the eventual result may be as they will be unable to regroup and return to Zealand before winter and the siege will have been brought to its conclusion uninterrupted before then.”
The dozen men coughed and nodded and agreed – all was clear and simple.
“The Danes may number fifteen thousand, but the bulk are said to be of the Reserve and very poorly armed. The old men who have been called back to the colours have in many cases been twenty years a civilian. Not all have muskets – pikes and halberds are not at all uncommon; some will have fowling pieces or old blunderbusses. I am informed that they attend drill for no more than five days a year. Consequently, their advantage in numbers is effectively meaningless.”
Septimus was inclined to agree. Amateurs could not achieve anything worthwhile against volley-firing professional troops.
“The King’s German Legion will proceed to the west, almost to the coast before making their way south. The Hampshires, Gordons and Rifles will proceed south and then trend to the west under my direct order. The distances are sufficiently small that the separation will be easily bridged as need arises. It is my intention to make half marches, to proceed very slowly towards the Danish force, in the hope that their commanders may discover the wisdom of retreat and of disbanding the civilians.”
A few minutes sufficed to give the order of march and the battalion commanders left the room, exchanging a few pleasantries and making their way towards the mess that had been set up in part of the royal palace that had been taken to British use. Septimus found Wellesley at his shoulder.
“Damned bad business this, Colonel Pearce! If the Danes insist on fighting then they will lose hundreds of men and suffer a humiliating defeat. If they do not fight, then they find themselves surrendering and facing accusations of cowardice from their own people. Whichever way it goes, there is the prospect of bitterness lasting for years! It will be Ireland all over again – old grievances rehashed forever and no peace for a generation.”
“We are here, sir, and must do what we have been sent for. Like it or not, sir, we are to obey the orders we have been given. I see that the Ninety-Fifth is to lead, sir, and that the Gordons are to have the right of the line.”
“The Scots claim to be senior to your regiment, Colonel Pearce, and their colonel will not give up the place of honour. He has been most insistent on the matter, is of the old school, one understands; his battalion is numbered the Ninety-Second, but he points out that it predates the Hampshires by a century, although renumbered in the reorganisations of late years. It existed, he claims, before the Jacobite Rebellion, was disbanded then but was brought back to the List as the 100th at the beginning of the Wars.”
“He may well be correct, sir. I will not argue the case, will be content to let the day speak for itself. His Scots will need be up early in the morning if they are to outfight my people, however. I understand him to be a great flogger and hanger of his men; we shall see whether he produces a fiercer battalion for it.”
The two colonels shared a glass of wine in the mess, though the old Scots aristocrat could find little common ground with the young redcoat officer of the line. It was necessary, both believed, to appear as comrades in arms in the days before battle; their men would approve.
Man of Conflict Series
BOOK THREE
Chapter Six
The cavalry of the King’s German Legion watched the Danes as they tried to manoeuvre as an army and reported that they had little cohesion and very poor drill; sneeringly, they suggested that they probably would do better wearing boots rather than wooden clogs. They also said that there were almost no deserters and very few stragglers to be found in the fields; the Danes were willing to fight, although very poorly equipped for battle.
Wellesley chose his ground with care and slowly brought his two forces towards a piece of shallow hillside near the port of Koge, south of Copenhagen. The plan was for the Gordons, the Hampshires and the Rifles to engage the Danes head on, the massed volley fire to bring the Danes to a halt and cause them unacceptable casualties. The infantry with the King's German
Legion was then to appear on the Danes’ left, advancing steadily, halting to fire at long range and then coming forward again. If the Danes held then the hammering match would continue until they broke; more likely, Wellesley thought, they would run as soon as they were flanked. The two German cavalry regiments were to commence a restrained pursuit of the militia battalions, aiming to break the Danes into small and disordered units who would be unlikely to come together again.
The Germans listened with every appearance of interest, and made it quietly clear that they knew exactly what to do when it came to harrying a broken army and that they would not be in the way of changing their habits for the benefit of a new, young and untried major-general.
Septimus left the meeting coincidentally shoulder to shoulder with one of the German colonels.
"Von Linsingen, sir!"
"Pearce, Colonel of the Hampshires, sir!"
They exchanged bows, all of the most formal.
"You are familiar with this general, Colonel Pearce?"
"I had the privilege of coming under his command in India, sir, in his successful campaigns there."
The German colonel nodded, he had heard of the campaigns against the natives.
“A, what do you call them, a ‘sepoy’ general, ja, colonel? Has he seen a hard-fought field?”
“Assaye was a hard battle, sir. Strong artillery and well served; cavalry outnumbering him at ten to one. He set his own horse to break and destroy them utterly at the end of the day. His army killed at least twice its own numbers on that day. I think he sees little need to kill the Danes if it can be avoided.”
“It can be avoided easily, sir. If they surrender, then we shall not kill them.”
Septimus smiled for the first time.
“My men will have the same orders, sir. They will not kill unnecessarily, but they will not risk one drop of English blood by offering mercy to men who are still fighting.”
“Good, sir! You are Hampshires, ja? You have fought much before?”
Fire and Folly (Man of Conflict Series Book 3) Page 13
