“Well done, well done indeed.”
“Thank you, Sir, but my Grenadiers are a match for any company of Frenchmen. We didn’t have too much trouble changing their minds.”
“Well said, Captain. Be assured that your fine performance will be reported to Colonel Oswald.”
“We’re grateful, Sir.”
oOo
Carr and Carravoy held their positions and rested until noon, when orders came to move North to St Euphemia. Correctly forming fours they marched to their new position. InevitablyMiles had something to say.
“Did you see them packs that those Frenchers carry? Made out of finest cowhide I’d say. I’ve a mind to make sure one comes my way, first chance I get. Their boots look a cut above, too.”
Ellis overheard.
“And what happens to your old pack, Miles? Fine you’ll look on parade with some brown and white cowhide job on your back. You’ll be flogged for wilful loss of the King’s property.”
“Alright, I know, I know. But if this campaign goes on a long while, these of ours will fall apart. They always do. Come that time, Regulations falls by the wayside and that’s when you’ll see me wearin’ one. Boots an’ all.”
“Until that happens you keep wearin’ the one you got.”
All around grinned at the exchange, until they found themselves marching over the ground that they had first fought over and saw a few Calabrian civilians burying bodies, some being the mangled remains of those brought down by the cannon fire. Even the hardest veterans looked away. They passed Engineers digging fortifications above the beach they had landed on hours before and many of these, their labours creating a severe thirst, walked alongside both companies to share a drink from their canteens. Next they passed a curious square tower which they recognised as the square block that they had seen as they came in on their longboats at the dawn of that day. Finally they reached St Euphemia where Colonel Oswald was waiting for them, and he called Carr and Carravoy over to him.
“The landing battalion is now disbanded, therefore your Companies are returned to their original commands. My thanks to you both for what you did over on the right, especially you, Carravoy. My Major tells me you held that farmhouse against a strong French attack. They’d have turned our flank were it not for you, and you held it practically unsupported, something on your flanks, but you in the centre, where it was hot. Your men must be bonny fighters. What’s your Regiment, again?”
“5th Provisionals, Sir.”
“And your Colonel?”
“Lieutenant Colonel Lacey, Sir.”
“Well fine, good, I’ll mention you to him when I see him. Now, good day to you both.”
Carravoy knew that Carr had heard every word and turned away as soon as he could. Carr could not resist making a comment, even though it was at Carravoy’s back.
“Practically unsupported? Something on your flanks? This new hole in my head must still be giving me delusions. I’d better check with my men, find out what really happened.”
With that he returned to his Company and they sought out Kempt’s Light Battalion. The men made camp and collected their rations, but Carr was livid. Drake and Rushby could see it and busied themselves with their letters and sketching, leaving him silent, simmering within his own dark thoughts.
As their pork and peas bubbled in the pot, Davey, Miles and Pike sat cleaning their firearms and attending to other required maintenance. Their cartridge boxes were half empty but that was corrected with the arrival of Percival Sedgwicke, leading a mule. Davey greeted his old barrack room companion.
“Hello old Parson. Does that mule speak English or have you learnt the local lingo?”
The other two grinned and made their greeting.
“How’s things, Parson. Still looking after our rum?”
Sedgwicke was moved by their cheery greeting and laughed with them.
“Yes, yes, of course, but I’m here on a different errand. How many cartridges do you need?”
Each examined their cartridge boxes and made their answer so that Sedgwicke could count them out from the panniers on the mule. All was good humoured, but he still felt awkward in their company. These were hard and capable soldiers, high status, but that was part of the problem; to him their capability in battle elaborated their coarseness and insensitivity and it caused him no small discomfort. With such as these he could never be “at ease”. He stood silent and awkward. John Davey detected only his discomfiture, not its cause and, as in the past, he came to his aid.
“Well then Parson, you must be on your way round. We’ll be seeing you some more, no doubt?”
“Yes, yes, and good luck to you all.”
“And to you, Parson.”
Sedgwicke led his mule around the rest of the 5th Light Company and returned it to a stable in the village; he then took himself back to the beach. The waves had risen during the day and the landings were not going well. Stores were coming ashore and men also, but it was all that the sailors could do to prevent the longboats broaching over on the beach and spilling either passengers or cargo into the boiling surf. Sedgwicke knew that he had to return to the Bidewell and he climbed awkwardly aboard an empty longboat, failing to avoid a soaking from a coursing wave that scoured along the longboat’s side before crashing onto the hissing shingle. His was the last boat for the day. Evening being near, Stuart halted any more attempts to land. It would be completed the following morning, the 3rd July. Wet, but not cold with the day being so hot he returned to the hold of the Bidewell and sat himself down near Pearson, and began to remove his soaked clothing.
“Hello, Percy. Found a new way to keep cool? How’s the landing?”
“I think it’s stopped. I saw no other boats passing me as I came back.”
“Really? Well then, that’s us done for the day. Time to get our rations.”
“Seems the landings have gone well. We’ve pushed the French back and have got ourselves ashore.”
“Ah, you mark my words, Percy. Johnny Frog is just letting us gather up on the beach. They’m biding their time, all the better to see us out of here. I’ve seen it before. They’ll take more beatin’ than we can put together.”
At this moment, General Stuart may have agreed with him, as from the top of the square tower, the Bastione di Malta, looking South East he could see the myriad pinpricks of light from the French campfires on the heights just to the West of the village of Maida, above the River Lamato. The impression given was that his own force was outnumbered. He could only hope that an undisturbed 3rd July would give him time to complete his landing and get all his stores ashore.
On that day, Sedgwicke and Pearson, both good Storesmen, completed their portion of the task by emptying the Bidewell of all that was required to go on shore. It was completed by the end of the morning and the afternoon was spent in a leisurely check of what remained, matching the stores to the manifest. Then the rumour began to circulate around the ship; the French army had been seen. Then came the order; all Storesmen to go ashore and make preparations to follow the army out to meet the French. Full weapons and equipment to be carried.
oOo
Lacey had himself woken early and emerged from his tent to immediately see Major O’Hare.
“Are the men ready? The orders were to be ready to march at dawn.”
“Yes Sir, they are. Formed up and ready.”
4th July was another slow dawn, but, beyond the camp, Lacey had enough light to see his eight companies formed up and stood easy.
“Have the men been checked? Cartridges, spare flints?”
“The Sergeants and NCO’s are doing that now, Sir.”
Lacey nodded, reassured. He looked at the breaking dawn.
“Well, Padraigh, a clean sun up. Let’s hope we see the sunset, eh?”
“Good luck to us all, Sir.”
“Amen to that.”
The inevitable Major Willoughby rode up.
“Please to march your men out to their position, Sir. Most are already in place.”
> “Very well. I’ll lead the men there myself.”
Lacey walked over to his men, now clear in the growing sunlight. O’Hare preceded him and shouted the first order.
“Parade!”
All came to order arms.
“Three cheers for the Colonel, boys. Let the French hear you!”
The men cheered lustily, some raising their muskets to the brightening sky.
“Huzza! Huzza! Huzza!”
Lacey drew his sword and brought it before his chin to salute his men.
“A bright day to clobber the French, lads. We’ll see the right side of them before this day is done, and that’s the backside!”
Laughter was interspersed with the shouts of agreement as O’Hare and Lacey marched to the head of the column. O’Hare turned, half right.
“From you, Gibney.”
“Parade, by the left. Forward march.”
Each left foot rose and hit the sand. The 5th marched on and took their place behind the Grenadier Battalion of Cole’s Brigade. The army, now formed up and facing South, marched off and Halfway and Deakin looked around.
“Where are we in all this?”
“We’m in the middle, Toby. Last Brigade in the middle column. Last battalion in the last Brigade. Bringin’ up the rear.”
He stepped out to the side to obtain a better view.
“There’s another Brigade ahead of us, that must be Acland, with his Scots girlies, another out on the sea shore, that must be Oswald, with those funny Swiss buggers. What looks like the Lights is inland on our left, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s Carr, Drake and Rushby, and that mean sod Ellis, leading that column. Our Lights must be the leading Company. Led by that cheery piece of work, Kempt.”
“You think there’ll be a battle, Ned?”
“I wouldn’t bet nothin’ against it. We’m for a fight, certain sure.”
The march South soon saw the loss of any kind of form that would apply to a parade ground. Miles swore and cursed, joined by those around him as they pulled each other through the swamp and mud where the plain met the dunes. Deakin and Halfway, contending with their own slog through the sand dunes and weighed down by the same full kit, noted that the beach column were staggering around the equal of themselves as their boots sank into the soft, loose shingle of the sea edge. The supply train, following on and containing Sedgwicke and Pearson leading forward a string of mules and donkeys, could choose for themselves and used the high beach, this being marginally easier for both men and animals.
For over an hour they heaved themselves onward, full equipment and packs weighing more and more as the treacherous ground continued and the sun grew higher. At last the order came to halt and rest. The men sank down and reached for water canteens and haversacks containing biscuits. Sergeants made their rounds and many an inexperienced soldier got a musket butt in his back for tipping precious water over his head, rather than drinking it.
Carr, Drake and Rushby were halted just behind Kempt and his Staff. Beyond they could see a river, seemingly wide, and fast flowing over its last yards to the sea. It seemed shallow, not deep.
“What river’s that, Nat?” Rushby asked.
“I believe it’s called the Lamato. And I’d say that our walk along the beach is done. Inland now to deliver our greetings to Mr Frenchman.”
Officers were galloping about on foam flecked horses and Carr, noticing movement to his left, saw the whole General Staff, with Stuart in the middle, canter up to Colonel Kempt. After a short discussion involving much arm waving, Stuart galloped off to their right, to Colonel Acland and his Staff, at the head of the middle column. Kempt came up to Carr and returned Carr’s salute.
“We’re marching inland, deployed as a firing line, two ranks. Your Company will take its line from the river there and, you being the right flank, I’m going to support you with two Companies of Corsicans and a Company of Sicilians. I may well send the Corsicans over the river, if required I’ll ask you to support them. Until then, deploy your men, and await orders. Good luck, Carr.”
Kempt nodded in reply to the salutes from Drake and Rushby and stalked on to issue his orders to the rest of his Captains. All around, in all columns, men were scrambling to their feet, and obeying the orders “Order Arms” then “Shoulder Arms”. The last tots of rum were being issued, those still without, eager to receive their ration. Tom Miles, Joe Pike and John Davey were being served by the same Orderly that had received the bitter end of Miles’ tongue way back in Taunton Barracks.
“No thumb in this time.”
“No Tom, ‘tis full measure. Good luck to you and to Joe.”
“Thanks, mate. Come the finish, eh?”
“Come the finish, Tom.”
Being at the end of Cole’s Brigade, the 5th were the last to receive the order to split their column of fours into two ranks to form a long firing line. Similar was happening all over Stuart’s command, but eventually all were formed up to the General’s satisfaction. The companies of the 5th were spread fully over the Army’s deployment, the Light Company on the far right, the eight Line Companies of the 5th and their Grenadiers on the far left under Cole. Stuart took the time to ride over to inspect that side and noted that the 5th was one of the few battalions that came to the “present” arms as he approached. Stuart had the manners to acknowledge the salute by removing his hat and holding it aloft as he rode along the line.
Lacey was with Brigadier Cole and Colonel Mallory of the Grenadiers.
“Lacey, you hold our left flank. The French have some cavalry, but it’s hard to tell their strength. Edge over left to the scrub on the slope, and restrict the open ground; gain yourself some protection. Mallory, I’m giving you artillery front right. Cole, you will have Acland to your right, and Oswald in reserve for both you and him. The 20th may return in time or may not. Landing at St Euphemia the likelihood is that they’ll arrive to support you. The French are coming off the heights to our right, their forward units probably coming down and fording the Lamato as we speak. I suspect that they will attack in echelon, they won’t take the trouble to form a line, so when your hear the game open on our right, that’s where we’ll make contact first, so make sure that your men are ready. You’ll be in action soon after. I’m advancing from the right. When you see Acland move, that’s your cue. Good luck to you all, Gentlemen. See you when it’s done.” He tugged on his right rein and took himself back with his Staff, back along the line, making a show of rising in his stirrups with his hat in the air, acknowledging the cheers of the 5th and the Grenadiers. He felt re-assured. His left was as secure as he could make it. Both the 5th Provisionals and the Grenadiers looked well led and solid.
Ten, then 15 minutes passed, three 4 lb guns arrived, in pieces and carried by mules, but within 5 minutes they were assembled onto their carriages with the gunners stood ready to pull them forward. Then Cole saw the Colours of Acland’s 81st and 78th appear out of the ranks and the whole moved forward. Cole gave the order and his own command began their own advance across the hot, dry, plain.
oOo
Across the reach of time, almost all battles have been fought on open ground, creating the moment when, from afar, the enemy appears in view and the armies present themselves to each other. At first there’s a suggestion of a different colour where the plain ends at a wood or hill or even the horizon. Then the colour becomes clearer and is part of a definite line and there may be some sparkle from weapons and accoutrements. Then the colour divides to become a uniform with brazen Colours clear above the ranks, then there’s movement; feet and arms march and swing, and shakoes or helmets emphasise the movement of heads. It is at this point that the prospect of battle is wholly real, death now stands at all men’s shoulders.
So it was for the men of Stuart’s army, as their forward march began. From a mile or more, there was a suggestion of blue in the shroud of brown dust that lifted in the heat haze but then all was obscured again as the dust thickened once more. All eyes were on no other thing as t
he whole British army advanced in line. Carr in the centre of his Company, with Drake and Rushby off to the sides before their own sections. Together they marched onward with swords sloped across their shoulders, their men with shouldered arms. Carr was one of the few to catch the movement to his right. True to his word, Kempt had sent the Corsican Rangers over the river to enter the thickets and woodland. Carr saw them disappear into the trees and undergrowth.
“Captain Carr.”
Carr turned, but he knew the voice. It was Kempt.
“Take your men over the river and support the Corsicans. Secure that wood. Your line of advance is the far river bank. Greelish will be on this side, if you need a decision of any kind.”
Carr brought his sword up in acknowledgement.
“Drake, Rushby, over the river. As we are, in two ranks.”
They waded through the shallow river; it was surprisingly cold, and before the wood they formed up as they had crossed the river, in two lines. The Corsicans could be heard up ahead, shouting and calling from within. As a beginning, Carr didn’t like it, but ordered the advance, maintaining a firing line.
The wood was little more than a thicket of drought stunted trees, hot, but light, with boulders, but little undergrowth. Carr’s Company advanced silently on, each man fixed intently on the spaces between the trees ahead. Suddenly came the crash of musketry at a volume that signalled much more than just a skirmish.
Carr halted his men leaving Rushby in command, then motioned to Drake and they both edged forward to investigate. Too soon they saw the Corsicans, already moving back. Beyond them and very close, in the dappled sunlight could be seen green and yellow plumes atop the shakoes of French infantry, in strength, crowding through the spaces between the trees. The Corsicans were using their muskets, but they were already falling back, their retreat would soon become headlong.
Carr motioned Drake to move back to their men.
“Front rank, make ready. Wait for the order men, let the Corsicans through.”
They didn’t have long to wait before the gaudily dressed Rangers ran back and through their position, some bravely turning to reload and fire, but they were masking the French from Carr’s men. From all around they were shouted at to return, shouts reinforced by angry gestures. Soon came the French and most noticed that these were not tall, forbidding grenadiers, but middle in stature and plainly agile, their swift movements emphasised by a swinging green and yellow tassel besides their shakoes.
Worth Their Colours (105th Foot. The Prince of Wales Own Wessex Regiment.) Page 36
