Tom Miles turned one more time to examine the panoply that stretched out before him as far as his eyes could see as his removed his kit and let it fall onto the warm grass.
“Well, this’ll do me. I’m all for a nice restful siege, if it means sittin ‘ere for a week or two. I’ve done with marchin’ about this place, for at least a good while.”
As usual, his opinion was voiced loud enough to inform the whole battalion and so it was overheard by another old Norfolk veteran, this being Carr’s “tall soldier” Ezekiel Saunders.
“You could be right there, Tom, were it not for one thing. Some of us may well have to go up over one of them walls, and I’d settle for a week’s marchin’ rather than climb some ladder to say hello to some Frencher hid behind a battlement. ‘Tis usually Lights or Grenadiers as gets the job, and that gives me an’ you odds even.”
Miles moved his gaze to the castle, particularly the walls, but made no reply. However, all was also overheard by their Officers. Carr, Drake, and Rushby stood regarding the view, Drake leaning forward on his sword, mopping his forehead with his soft forage cap, whilst Morrison set up their tent and the other components of an Officer’s camp. Carr tried to open the conversation.
“You ever been involved in a siege, Nat?”
“No. Outside my experience.”
“Also myself. Something new for us both.”
But there was no reply. Carr wanted to talk about the siege they were part of, but Drake had walked off, following Rushby who was looking for the best angle for his sketching and to see if his wound would, indeed, allow some artwork. Since Monteleone a distance had grown between Carr and Drake, and it was Carr that felt the change. He knew it had everything to do with the execution, but with time, the heat of his anger had abated, and now two emotions competed within him. He still hated the French for Catanzarro, but, with time, he now found cause to question within himself his eagerness to volunteer, when the requirement for a King’s Officer would be to wait until ordered, then carry it out quietly and with due dignity. To have brashly volunteered, as he had done, created a doubt about himself that gnawed within him.
His attention was distracted by a water wagon labouring up the hill, with a double team of mules. Nothing so unusual, apart from the fact that this time it was escorted by none other than the estimable Sergeant Major Gibney and half a minute’s viewing told him why. The men of the 5th, thirsty and filthy, were eager for the water and many were running in its direction. Gibney placed his significant being in front of the spigot.
“Now then, now then. Lets ‘ave thee good and orderly. One bucket, each mess, each day. Water has to be hauled all up here and none’s to be wasted. One bucket, each mess, each day. Percy; good man. Thee takes the bucket, thee turns ont’ tap and thee turns it off. It be thee as does the dolin’ out. Understood? Right. Carry on.”
Sedgwicke nervously took the first bucket, placed it under the spigot and turned on the tap. The water splashed and splattered and he anxiously debated within himself how much of a margin to leave, if any. He filled to the brim.
“Too much, Percy. Some’ll get spilt as ‘tis carried on back and that’s waste. Two inches down. Carry on.”
With Gibney overseeing no one dared argue. It was Sedgwicke who got the black looks when two inches looked like two and a half.
Morrison had made their camp and Carr sat on one of the portable chairs. Despite his mood of self doubt he smiled. Here was a battalion of battle hardened men, ready to kill if ordered, yet still subject to the tiny human minutiae, innocent in its domesticity, that still applied, even to men ready to stand a firing line and blow others to perdition. He shook his head, hoping to get himself out of this “black dog” depression. He remembered some words of advice, amongst the first he had been given in the 6th Foot, back over what seemed an age; “First, your men”. He rose and began a tour of his Company’s ground, passing by Drake and Rushby, and suggesting they should do the same.
“See how the men are.”
Although a suggestion, they took it as an order.
O’Hare was taking his ease outside the Command Tent, in fine humour, a good cup of tea held in his right hand, his left drumming out the beat to an Irish ditty that was circulating in his head. As with Carr, some minutes before, O’Hare’s attention was drawn to the track up to their camp, but this time it was Lacey riding up, allowing his horse to take the hill in its own time. O’Hare knew that Lacey was returning from Headquarters in the town and, as was everyone, he was eager to hear of their immediate future. Lacey arrived and dismounted, handing the reins to a soldier who appeared, as if from nowhere.
“Any news, Sir?”
“Nothing that could be said to apply specifically to us. The castle is well prepared bar one thing. Water. And in this heat that’ll give them a serious problem. The locals report that a great deal of time had to be spent clearing out the castle’s cistern because it was full of rubble, and they will not have had time to re-fill it. He’s got a good garrison, but has to support it through this month, July, one of the hottest. Stuart was right. Getting quickly through Monteleone was a bonus. However, the castle’s modern. It was rebuilt back in the eighties after an earthquake shook the whole place apart. Apparently this is a bad part of the world for such. Oh, and one piece of good news, although not unexpected, Reggio fell to us, on the 10th, without a siege! Its got a harbour. We can expect both supplies and reinforcements to come up from there, not over those damn mountains that we’ve just had to wend our weary way through. So, apart from the French, now probably somewhere up in Naples, this is the last French hold in this part of Italy. Once this is captured, the job’s done. Home perhaps, who knows?
“Who knows, Sir? But something in my water tells me that there’ll be other serious doings that will be occupying us, in this here sunny part of the world.”
“Well, Padraigh, only time will tell. What I can say is that the bombardment starts tomorrow, albeit by light guns, but 24 pounders are on their way and from that point on, this affair will become serious.”
“Yes, Sir. And the assault.”
“Oswald’s men probably. They are manning the houses immediately opposite. I’m hoping that Stuart will leave us out. We had a tough battle, I don’t need to remind you of that, whilst Oswald’s were in reserve, but I expect Stuart to use one of either the Lights or the Grenadiers. That’ll be our contribution. But I for one have had a basinful of glory this campaign, I’ll be happy to spectate and cheer, when the time comes.”
“Amen to that, Sir.”
Lacey took his leave, then O’Hare finished both his tea, and his ditty.
oOo
The sun was setting, way off to their left, throwing long shadows on the grass made yellow by the dying light, shadows now so distorted they told nothing of their origins. As politeness required, the three had dined together, but Rushby had taken himself off to the Surgeon to check on his wound, hopefully to confirm what he thought; that it was healing nicely. Fearnley’s stitching had been of the highest order. The remaining two sat in silence, which Carr finally broke.
“Let’s take a turn around the camp. Check on the men.”
They both rose and Drake reached for his soft foraging cap, for some reason now his favoured headgear. Carr waited and remained bareheaded. They walked for some minutes in silence, for them that in itself being almost unique.
“Is there something you want to discuss with me, Nat? Now’s your time to speak freely.”
“About what, in particular?”
“The choice is yours, but something’s been bothering you since Monteleone. The execution, I suspect; could that be what’s weighing on your mind?”
“Now you mention it, yes. When I was in the 9th, I saw a few. Looters and deserters, even a rapist. Myself amongst other Officers, and I was not untypical, looked upon the affair with some distaste, possibly the worst detail that one could be given. To avoid it gave a feeling of extreme relief, certainly in my case. I would not have volun
teered for such a thing even if my Soul depended upon it; a cold blooded shooting.”
Despite the conflicting debate that existed within himself, Carr angered.
“They were damn murdering bastards and I, and eighteen of my men, saw them off to the Hell they deserve. What we saw in Catanzarro, and happened in addition in Monteleone, was cold-blooded murder; of innocents! We saw women and children, not shot, but clubbed and bayoneted.
Carr waited for some reply. None came, so he continued.
What we witnessed was very different from what you describe. Those weren’t the occasional deeds that accompany the presence of an army that chance dictates contains the worst men that life can offer, and who anyway, act as individuals for their own personal gain. What happened there was different, it was both organized and condoned. Paying out someone for a defeat. I awarded the retribution to myself. I volunteered, and so did the men, don’t forget. They didn’t feel the need to indulge in a deep internal debate on the morality of such. They simply saw evil men and blew them to Kingdom Come. I take a measure of comfort from saying that we stood against such bestiality, and, in any case, I saw the thing properly carried out. I heard what the townsfolk wanted to do to them. With us it was at least quick and with due form.”
“I can understand where you’re coming from, Henry, I saw it Catanzarro too, but to appear so eager, well, it set you apart.”
“Not for the first time that that’s applied to me, Nat, not for the first time, but I ask you to remember that this is a real campaign, with all that throws up. For me, this has resurrected what I saw in the Irish Rebellion. This isn’t a Shorncliffe Review, this is the real dirty business of fighting a war, with civilians in the middle; and in this case against an enemy that does things in a far different way to what we’ve been brought up to hold to. To us, our honour and integrity are everything. We are appalled at the idea of living off the land, stealing, and carrying out reprisals. I feel now, that I rose up, struck a blow, as it were. My motives contained no pleasure, I assure you. Eagerness perhaps, yes, but born of the wish to stand up against it, “use might for right” if you prefer.
Carr paused, and sighed, his anger now vented. Once more no reply. He continued more calmly.
“But to volunteer, “conduct unbecoming” and all that. Well, yes, that’s a thought that’s grown in my mind over the past couple of days, but I make no apologies. I stand by what I did. And, as I say, they weren’t murdered; they were cleanly shot, like soldiers. They were lucky to get that.”
A new point came to mind.
“You fought the French before, when you were with the 9th. At Castricum. You saw nothing of such things during that?”
“No. It was us doing the retreating.”
Drake paused, as the pair walked on. Eventually, after some thought, he came to a conclusion.
“Very well, Henry. I think you wrong, and I stand by that, but you’ve earned the benefit of the doubt. We’ve gotten used to you coming at things from a different angle, and the job was cleanly done, I’ll grant you. We have your cool head to thank for that.”
He paused again.
“Now, the battle and marching done, and in camp, we must write letters. Back to our tent. It’s as well that I’m in close attendance, to give you a hand with some choice phrases. When it comes to writing fond letters with appropriate sentiments to such as Jane Perry, it’s well understood what a dullard you are.”
Carr grinned and placed his hand on Drake’s shoulder before they turned back to their tent.
oOo
The camp was woken by gunfire. As all turned out, many stuffing shirts into the tops of breeches as they emerged from tents and blankets, their enquiring looks were extended beyond the positions of their own empty batteries to the white smoke coiling back on the West wind over the battlements of the castle. Two feluccas and two transports were sailing away from the beach on the larboard tack, using the high tide. They must have made the turn late or misjudged the strength of the wind blowing to the castle because they had all slipped to leeward and their mistake had taken them within range of the battery mounted on the seaward side of the castle. They were well within range, as shown by the fall of the ranging shots that were significantly beyond the four vessels. O’Hare was soon joined by Lacey.
“That’s going to cost them. Who are they, do you know, Sir?”
“My guess is the 20th going to Reggio. Stuart mentioned something about it the other day. Oh my, pray God, get them through it.”
Lacey was aghast as three heavy shot struck home on the hull of the transport nearest to the castle; the ship that also happened to be the largest, therefore the favoured French target. Splinters flew up from her side and the foresail shivered with the passing of a fourth ball. Another missed the stern and skipped across the water leaving a trail of white eruptions across the surface. O’Hare added his own prayer but perhaps more practical.
“Pray God they don’t lose a mast, then they will be lost. They’ll drift ever closer.”
The importance of masts carrying sails was emphasized by all ships spreading more canvas, more than was prudent as they sailed across the strong beam-on wind, and all heeled over until the sea washed through the scuppers of their maindecks, but all gained speed and turned into the wind as close as they dared to narrow the target they made to stern only. The gunners were firing at will, with all the speed they could. Three more hits were scored, but nothing vital such as mast or rudder and all escaped. An Officer stood closeby made a telling observation.
“Someone will face a Court for that. All the quicker if there are casualties.”
Many nodded as they stood and observed the final French shots, but all fell short and the guns fell silent. Yet still they watched as the four ships safely made an offing into The Straits sufficient to tack down to Reggio.
“That was close, O’Hare, damn close. I could see the whole damn army making an unprepared assault on that castle to come to the aid of that ship.”
“Perhaps, Sir, but I don’t see General Stuart taking extra casualties to save the contents of one ship. That’s the game we’re in, Sir. We all take our chances.”
“If you’re right, I’m glad it wasn’t a decision that I had to make, nor anyone, thank God.”
“Amen to that, Sir. And I think some breakfast, after all that excitement.”
Whilst breakfast was taken pleasantly in the open air, there was plenty to divert the partaking observers. The French were plainly upset at what had been happening in the town opposite the castle, the result of the work of the files of burdened soldiers that the 5th had seen on their first entry through the abandoned streets. With their lighter guns in the battlements opposite the town, the garrison was making brisk practice on the buildings immediately to their front, for what reason it was impossible to tell from a distance, but bricks and tiles could be seen flying upwards through the smoke.
The following day the noise was doubled because the British were firing back, opposite the same French light batteries. A breastwork had been constructed within musket shot of the castle walls for the army’s lighter siege artillery and the smoke informed the observers that it must be two pieces, also that they were heavier than Field Artillery as the battlements before them soon started to show significant damage.
The bombardment continued over the subsequent days and those with an appreciation of sieges and castles lost no opportunity to demonstrate their knowledge. Major Simmonds, the second in the battalion, was one such. Not a bombast by any means, nevertheless he held court to whoever would listen.
“Now, you see, this castle has natural strength, obviously, stuck on a rock, with height in most places. However, being on a rock gives no possibility of building ravellines to protect the walls. They are a sort of triangular block of whatever, built in front of wall, but just a bit lower, which exposes the surface of the ravelline to gunfire from the main wall. It’s called a glacis. Without ravellines, the walls are exposed all the way down to our gun fire. E
ventually, we’ll get a breach, and when it’s practical, we’ll get the go. At least some of us.”
Lacey had ordered his good Dolland glass permanently set up upon two tripods, focused carefully upon the crumbling walls. Most Officers passing by availed themselves of the opportunity to obtain a detailed view of the increasing wreckage of the battlements and the cleft that grew below, like a hit from a giant axe. Through that particular piece of damage, when it became large enough to be deemed “practical”, the assault would go.
Most dawdled and dreamed upon the hillside, listening to and watching the gunfire assault, those with a glass having the advantage. Carr was different. He allowed his men two days rest, then had them out and away, over the hills, practicing their drill, advancing up and back against various imaginary foes in a variety of situations. Surprisingly he overheard little grumbling from the men. Boredom had set in and being off and away to sample the generosity of inlying villages had a major appeal. Soon other Companies in the Light Battalion did the same when they saw the 5th Lights return in the evening, marching smartly back to camp, all in step and obviously in fine fettle. Both Lacey and O’Hare observed and nodded with satisfaction, remarking the same to each other.
The considerations of the siege lay outside their concerns until one evening, when Carr was ordered to the tent of Kempt, and Carravoy similarly to the tent of Colonel Mallory. Both Colonels conveyed the same orders, Carr listened dispassionately whilst Carravoy listened with growing apprehension that knotted his stomach. Kempt spoke to his Senior Officers as though dispensing retribution for some heinous misdemeanor.
“Both the Light and the Grenadier Battalions will be involved in the assault under the command of Brigadier Oswald, with his 58th in reserve. The Grenadiers will go for the breach, whilst we, the Lights, will attempt to the right, that being the wall above the rock where it can be climbed. Where the wall begins there is a ledge. We can carry our ladders up the rock and then place them for the final climb up the wall using the ledge. Mounting two assaults will split the French forces, and the French, those who will be forced to man the battlements against us, can be enfiladed by long-range musket fire from the upper windows of the houses. If we get in, all well and good, if not, we’ve provided a diversion. The Grenadiers will have the continued support of the battery. Any questions?”
Worth Their Colours (105th Foot. The Prince of Wales Own Wessex Regiment.) Page 45
