The Plains of Talavera

by Martin McDowell

“400, I’d say. With more behind.”

  Templemere looked rapidly, several times, from the French to Johnson.

  “This is madness! We haven’t a hope!”

  “Oh, don’t say that, Fred. Paget did for twice his number at Sahagun and at Benevente.”

  Templemere was totally unconvinced.

  “It’s still madness. We’ll all be killed, or wounded and captured.”

  Johnson leaned over.

  “Fred! We have to hold for the Colonel. When you signed up, you knew this could happen. It’s what we do and what we have to do!”

  Templemere could only mumble a weak reply.

  “I didn’t sign on. I purchased.”

  This caused Johnson to laugh.

  “Ah well, then, Fred. Not the best use of money that you’ve ever made! Even us fashionable Lights have to cross blades with the Johnnies from time to time.”

  There was no reply.

  “Right. I’m in front of the right, you of the left. If they charge, so do you. Do not meet them waiting at a standstill! That’s crucial. That will be the end of you and of us all. If they charge, so do you. Set an example, Fred. The men will be looking to you.”

  With that he swung his horse’s head to the right and rode the few yards to place himself before Peterson’s Troop of 50. Still looking at the French, Templemere did the same, but off to the left and only for a few yards. The moment was heavy with anticipation, nothing being said, the only sound the jingle of head harness as the horses tossed their heads to and fro and the occasional stamp of a hoof. Suddenly, from the French side there sounded a bugle and their whole line walked forward, from about 500 yards off. Templemere heard Johnson shout.

  “Draw sabres.”

  All along their line came the harsh scrape of metal moving across metal and Templemere drew his own sword and then sat watching the French approach. For how long he could not tell, then, inexplicably, the French line halted. Templemere looked harder, barely believing his eyes, then he heard what could only be Ranker banter from behind. He turned around to see that the rest of the 16th had returned and were now forming a second line behind his first and then his eyes was drawn to the right, where the whole of the 14th were extending Johnson’s line, ready to hit the French from their left flank, this being onto their bridle hand, where they were most vulnerable. As if to confirm all, Stapleton Cotton was riding to where Johnson was in position. He had brought his whole cavalry Brigade forward. Templemere was in a quandary as to what to do, should he ride over to meet his Brigadier or remain. He decided on the former and rode across to arrive at Johnson at the same time as Stapleton Cotton, but the first words spoken by the Brigadier did much to offend Templemere’s sharply honed self-regard.

  “Well done, Johnson. You’ve held them off. Well done.”

  He then noticed Templemere.

  “Wounded hero! Well done also to you, but do you think your hurt is sufficiently minor to allow you to take a message back to Wellesley’s headquarters? He’s in Oropesa and shouldn’t be too difficult to find. Convey my compliments and tell him we have met French cavalry in force.”

  Something now surfaced in the mind of Templemere, which would allow him a small riposte, however minor, to his evidently somewhat contemptuous Brigadier. Something which, perhaps, his Commanding Officer had not thought of.

  “Where shall I say where we are? Sir.”

  The last word came very late, but the whole tone was lost on the irascible and pre-occupied Stapleton Cotton. He did not even take the trouble to turn and look at Templemere as he studied what he could see of the French beyond their cavalry line.

  “Road fork for Almaraz and Casatejada!”

  In thus insouciant manner, Templemere was dismissed, which did nothing to improve his mood.

  oOo

  For the 105th relief had arrived, albeit no more than a halt to their march and the opportunity to sit in the shade of olive trees out of the fierce sun, this a continuing a torment even in the late afternoon. A building had been noticed but minutes before the order to halt came and so Byford, Saunders and Solomon had gathered all canteens and hurried over, and then hurried back, each canteen full from the family’s well. Thus they sat, drinking the cool water, grateful that it helped with their gnawing hunger. No one spoke much, beyond offering others a share of the last of their French hard biscuit, until there came both the sight and sound of rapid movement down the road from Talavera, towards Oropesa. Ten glittering uniforms galloped past at full speed, the radiance of each lessening the further back they were from their magnificently attired leader, but their urgency was very obvious. The group drew a sentient comment from Miles.

  “Somethin’s up! There’s a big worry up top, any money you like! We ain’t been on the road for a day an’ all’s back for another think.”

  No one replied. The water was too cool and did much to expand the biscuit resting in their stomachs. Then came the order to make camp, conveyed by Ellis.

  “No more marchin’ today. Seems somethin’s happened as means we goes on no more. Make camp.

  Thus, soon, in response, the fires were burning under the olive branches in the dying light and all sat waiting for their share of the porridge made from the horse-oats which Solomon had traded at the farmhouse. Conversation was confined to the hope of supplies arriving from Portugal, for none cared to speculate on the reason for their puzzling halt.

  However, next morning it was Lacey who was the first to learn of the importance of the mission carried out by the hurrying Spanish during the previous evening. As the sun climbed to once more quit the Eastern horizon, Donkin called for his Colonels and Senior Majors. Soon, Lacey and O’Hare were sat in a low white building on the outskirts of the Oropesa and Donkin came straight to the point when the last of his Senior Officers arrived.

  “Wellesley has received a letter from Cuesta intercepted by guerillas. Soult, supported by Ney, is coming down from the North. What we thought would be no more than a raid by 15,000 now turns out to be 50,000, which is plainly a major effort to cut us off from Portugal. This has been confirmed by our own cavalry meeting the French beyond Naval Moral.”

  He paused to allow the significance of his words to sink in, then he continued.

  “We cannot continue beyond Oropesa on our Westerly route and use the bridge at Almaraz to cross the Tagus, with a force that size menacing our flank. Therefore, the army will be leaving the main road today to march due South and cross the Tagus at Arzobispo. However, if the French do manage to cross the Tagus at Almaraz, then they can still come down upon us and I would not like to predict the outcome in that event. So, to prevent that, the Lights of your Brigade, Lacey, and my whole Brigade, will be joining Crauford’s for a forced march over the river at Arzobispo, then along the South bank, to block the bridge at Almaraz from our side and deny it to the French. With that secured, providing Crauford’s force arrives in time and has not been beaten to it, the main army is secure to march on to Truxillo, just South of the bridge.”

  He drew a deep breath.

  “Right, if you’re involved, prepare your whoever to march this morning with Crauford. I do not need to tell you how important it is to hold that bridge and keep our flank secure. Soult was at Plascencia on Monday, three days ago, and Plascencia’s two days march from Almaraz. He may be there now, but the whole population of the place marched out when the French came near and so, reports for Wednesday from the guerrillas say that he is still there. Plundering the place and probably waiting for Ney, coming up behind him.”

  He paused again to allow comments, but none came, so he continued.

  “There’s more. The Spanish have abandoned Talavera, leaving our wounded there to fend for themselves. They have forty odd carts to get themselves out and follow us, but many will be on foot. God help them! We will hold at Arzobispo for a day to give them a chance to catch up. Wellesley is taking a chance to give them a chance. He’s assuming that Crauford can hold the French back at Almaraz.”

  He l
ooked around.

  “Any questions?”

  Lacey immediately spoke up.

  “Any chance of extra rations for our men, if they’re to undertake a forced march?”

  Donkin nodded.

  “I do believe that some sort of Spanish ration has been obtained.”

  With that they dismissed and Lacey and O’Hare immediately paired up. Lacey had one question.

  “I want Carr to go with our Brigade’s Lights. Do you approve? Officer casualties with the Light Companies of the 24th and 45th were severe. They will need to be combined into a small Battalion and commanded.”

  O’Hare nodded.

  “Yes. That’ll be fine. We’ll cope.”

  O’Hare then looked at Lacey.

  “I’ll find him and give him the good news!”

  The Spanish rations arrived at the 105th Light Company on a mule, led by Sergeant Ellis. He began with John Davey’s mess.

  “Extra rations! Get your haversacks.”

  Miles was immediately suspicious.

  “For what reason?”

  Ellis was already dipping a jug into the pannier on one side of the mule.

  “We, the Light Company, are joining General Crauford’s Light Brigade for a march to a place called Almaraz where we has to hang onto a bridge and keep Johnny on his own side, whilst we sits on the other. But getting there afore him could be a push, so here’s your extra.”

  He held out the jug, not to Miles, but to Byford.

  “You, Private Miles, will not be comin’ with us, on account of your wound!”

  Miles flared up.

  “If you think I’m stayin’ here, think on. I can march fast as these lads, an’ keep up. If I tries and ‘as to fall out, then I’ll sit there until the rest comes up. But if I get’s there, I’m one more gun and no bad leg can spoil my aim!”

  Ellis was somewhat startled by the vehemence of Miles’ outburst, but he could see that there was some sense in what he said. On this he had to think, but meanwhile Miles had more to say.

  “An’ if I comes, then it will prevent a murder, ‘cos me stuck for days on me own with Nellie Nicholls will surely cause one of us to do the other in!”

  Laughter broke out all around with which even Ellis had to join in.

  “Right, but if you falls out and dies by the roadside, that’s your affair, not mine!”

  Miles stared malevolently at him.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way!”

  Ellis then held out his jug to pour out Miles’ portion of the new rations and the jug was emptied into the haversack, revealing a large, pale orange bean. Miles changed the subject.

  “An’ these is called what?”

  Ellis was by now at the mules’ head.

  “Spanish calls ‘em garbanzos. B’ain’t got no English name. ‘Cept bean!”

  By now he was walking on, but he gave one more simple order.

  “Ready to march in one hour.”

  No sooner had Ellis left, than Captain Drake arrived and all sprang to attention. Drake looked around.

  “Major Carr will be commanding the three Light Companies of our Brigade. He’ll need a servant.”

  He had seen the man he wanted.

  “That’ll be you, Byford.”

  “Sir.”

  “That’s all. We’re marching soon.”

  With Drake gone, all looked sympathetically at Byford.

  “That means you’ve got to carry his kit, as well as your own.”

  Byford nodded.

  “Could be, but we’ll see.”

  Saunders looked at his friend.

  “I’ll carry your haversack.”

  Then Joe Pike spoke up.

  “I’ll take some out of your pack, if needs be.”

  Byford smiled.

  “Could be. Thanks.”

  Within the hour, they were formed up on the road, at the head of the much depleted Light Companies of the 24th and 45th. O’Hare came to see them off and shook Carr’s hand.

  “Good luck, Henry.”

  Carr nodded and began the march, but O’Hare had something to say to his own men as they passed.

  “Good luck, now boys. See you in a few days, all fit and well, but a few pounds lighter after your pleasant walk!”

  Almost all raised a smile as they passed their popular Major, but these soon faded as they turned left onto the Arzobispo road and Carr increased the pace for them to catch up with Donkin’s 87th and 88th, supported by 270 men of the 60th Rifles These last were in the wake of Crauford’s Light Brigade and soon that dour General’s complete command had the road all to themselves.

  There was little spare time for those remaining. As soon as Crauford’s men had cleared the road, the rest of Wellesley force were ordered to form up and begin their own trek to the now only safe crossing of the Tagus at Arzobispo, and before even mid-morning little remained, either in or before Oropesa, to mark the presence of the British army. Soon they were all looking down the ruler straight road that led over the dry plains South, to the bridge at Arzobispo. The road soon became monotonous, merely either slightly up or slightly down, which fact did not escape Toby Halfway, marching beside Jed Deakin with the Colour Party.

  “Not too many bends in this road. Not that I’m complainin’, but the odd curve might make you feel that you’m getting’ somewhere, rather than bein’ on some kind of treadmill.”

  Deakin just looked at his friend and smiled, but Ensign Rushby felt that he could both expand and explain.

  “It’s a Roman road, Corporal, direct to a Roman bridge, I shouldn’t wonder. Talavera had one. Didn’t you notice?”

  Halfway exhaled a deep breath.

  “No Sir. ‘Fraid I didn’t. We was all a bit occupied with other things, like. Sir.”

  Rushby did not appreciate the inference, therefore he ploughed on.

  “Yes. This whole area was conquered by the Romans. And they left their mark, just as they did on our own country. Roads, bridges and the like. Over two thousand years ago.”

  Halfway sniffed.

  “So, walkin’ into other people’s country is not somethin’ new to our lifetime, so it would seem.”

  However, before Rushby could expound further the call came to fall out for a rest and the Officers and Other Ranks went their separate ways, Deakin, Halfway, Bennet and the half-Ensign Mulcahy to munch a biscuit and drink some water, Rushby to wait, but not for long, for some coffee made from water boiled quickly on a fire made more intense by the constant working of a pair of bellows. The subject of conversation for the Deakin mess was the same as it had been for the past weeks, started from Bridie.

  “Do you think there’ll be some supplies come up, at this place we’re headin’ for, Jed?"

  Deakin shook his head wearily. He wished he could be more cheerful, but he couldn’t.

  “I doubts it, Bridie. Comin’ this way, was a change of plan, or so I understands it. That means any supplies meant for our first route has to be diverted. What do you think Henry?”

  Henry Nicholls sat forward onto his knees.

  “Can’t say as I can be any more cheerful than that.”

  Bridie dropped her gaze down to her own pack and searched in its confines, hoping for a piece of dried fruit, but there was none.

  All too soon, for weariness caused by hunger had overtaken them all as they sat in the meagre shade, the bugle sounded to reform on the road and within minutes their march resumed. However, this rest proved to be the only one required, because the low, red roofs of Arzobispo soon appeared on the low horizon and grew steadily with each step. The march had been but seven miles and they entered the town and continued on, down a seemingly endless, wide main street, defined on each side by a long row of terraced buildings, mostly hovels, but some shops and one bar. Few inhabitants came to watch their passing, for they were nothing new on that day; Crauford’s men had passed through but two hours before. The army then crossed the low, long bridge, pronounced Roman by Rushby, and on the far side, now S
outh of the Tagus, the order came to make camp. They were remaining there for the night.

  Seemingly, within minutes, all around was a scene of domesticity as the Followers joined their men and all rested in the plentiful shade that was available. This included the spiritual section of the 105th, these being Chaplain Albright and his Assistant, Private Sedgwicke. The pair were drinking tea and eating army biscuits, when O’Hare arrived. He was invited by Albright to join them, but he declined, ‘Too busy’. He had one simple message.

  “Our wounded, those that we had to leave in Talavera, are trying to follow us. The Spanish have abandoned the place and left them to the French. I’m not blaming them, there was nothing anyone could do. So, all our carts are being unloaded and will stay here, hoping for them to catch up. We have to give them a chance. It includes your cart, I’m afraid.”

  Albright looked at Sedgwicke and then at O’Hare.

  “There is no need for any apology, Major. Such is no more than our Christian duty. As Sedgwicke here would agree.”

  Private Sedgwicke was nothing like so sure, of so definite a conclusion. He would have to carry an extra burden, not all would be left behind, but he had no choice other than to nod his head.

  “Yes Sir. Correct.”

  O’Hare smiled with pleasure at so rapid an agreement.

  “The Blessing on you both! I’ll see if some of your things can be spread over the men. Pick out what’s essential and I’ll see what can be done.”

  With that he departed and Albright began his selection.

  “I will need what’s required for my own personal hygiene, shaving and washing and so on. And spare clothes, especially small clothes. One perspires so badly in this climate.”

  He thought some more.

  “And eating! There’s my cutlery and ……. “

  He paused.

  “Do you think that collapsible table and chair?”

  Sedgwicke shook his head.

  “I think not Sir. I think they should be sacrificed.”

  Albright’s shoulders fell and he sighed.

  “I do suppose that you are right.”

  Then he looked up, suddenly enlightened.