Young Bloods
Page 49
‘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 busy 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.
‘Soldiers! Before you lies the enemy. The traitors of Toulon, who have betrayed their birthright, and sold it to the enemies of France. Our foe has the advantage of numbers, formidable defences and the fire support of the most powerful navy in the world. To an outsider our situation might seem to be a cause for despair. What can this army achieve against such an apparently impregnable fortress?’ He paused long enough for the rhetorical effect of his words to sink into their hearts, and then pressed home. ‘This army can achieve nothing, so long as it continues in such a slovenly, unsoldierly and desperate state as I discovered in this camp. My God! Even the camp followers have made more effort than you. And if the enemy ever launches an attack on the army that surrounds Toulon, I’d put good money on the camp followers being a tougher proposition for the enemy than you! Gentlemen, simply put, at the moment you are an utter disgrace to the uniform that you wear. Unless things change, we will lose this fight, and it might well be the turning point of the revolution. All the years of suffering the people of France have endured to rid themselves of the oppression of the aristos will have been for nothing. In the age to come, when you are old men, people will point to you and whisper that you failed in your duty when all of France needed you most . . . They will say you failed,’ he repeated with deliberate emphasis, and then turned his back on them and stared at the distant defences of Toulon for a while, as his men digested his accusation. Then Napoleon turned round and spoke again, in a gentler tone.
‘That is one future. One that we must not allow to happen. Toulon can be taken. I’ve been here long enough to see that Toulon cannot be carried by a frontal assault. Our infantry would be cut to pieces before they managed to take any of those fortifications. Only one thing can bring Toulon to its knees.’ He smiled. ‘Artillery. That’s us, gentlemen. Just us. We must bring every gun we can find to bear on Toulon. We must surround the enemy with a screen of batteries that will tear into his defences like teeth. We will build our batteries right under his nose and when they are complete we will blow the enemy into the sea. I don’t have to tell you th
at it’ll be a dangerous business, and we’re going to need every shred of courage, strength and endurance that we can find within ourselves. That goes for the officers and sergeants as well as the men.There’ll be no rest for any of us. From now on we’ll live by the guns, and we’ll not rest until that Bourbon standard flying over Toulon is torn down and replaced by the flag of France!’
Napoleon ripped off his hat and held it aloft, and for an instant there was no response from the men.Then Sergeant Junot stepped forward and raised his hat with a cheer, and suddenly the air was filled with the shouts of the men, and the cry of patriotic slogans. Napoleon joined them, cheering for all he was worth. Then he edged over to Junot and caught his eye.
‘I want the officers and sergeants in my headquarters as soon as the parade is dismissed. Tell the rest of the NCOs to have the men take down their tents and put them up properly.Then they’re to get the artillery park in order. No food, or breaks until it’s done, and done properly. Understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good.’ Napoleon nodded. ‘Carry on, Junot.’
He made his way past the men and headed over to the headquarters tent. Inside, a pair of campaign desks, piled high with paperwork, stood at the back. A large flask of red wine and some pewter cups rested on the end of one table and Napoleon crossed to them, and poured himself a drink. It seemed to have gone well enough. He had given the men some sense of direction, an awareness of the significance of their role in the siege, and therefore some sense of their responsibility.That might be enough to drive them on. The trick of it was to keep them focused and that meant giving them some kind of victory as soon as possible. Something to vindicate the hard work he would make them do. His mind raced for a moment, then he quickly made his way to the tent flaps and stared down the slope towards Toulon. A number of the enemy warships lay at anchor in the west arm of the inner harbour, below the hill of Brégaillon.
Napoleon smiled to himself.Very well.That’s where he would begin.
Chapter 75
Two days later, just as the first pale light of day was fringing the horizon, Napoleon glanced down the length of the sight of the twenty-four-pounder cannon.The ship he had chosen as a target was little more than a dark blur in the harbour below.The Aurore, a frigate, was one of the vessels captured by the English when Toulon had surrendered itself to the Royal Navy. The range was very long and Napoleon knew that the chances of actually hitting the frigate were small, but that was not the point of this morning’s demonstration. Napoleon was serving notice on the enemies of France that their defences were not nearly as secure as they might think. More importantly, he was providing proof to his superiors that he was the kind of officer who seized the initiative.
Even as his men had set about bringing order to the camp and artillery park, Napoleon had dispatched his officers to find trench tools and wicker gabions for the construction of the battery. Captain Marmont, a young man just as keen as Napoleon to prove himself, had been sent to the coastal battery at Cap Nègre to commandeer the twenty-four-pounders Napoleon needed for the battery. There were only light pieces in the army’s artillery train, and they would be almost useless for siege work.
Marmont discovered that the guns were mounted on naval carriages, totally unsuitable for the rough tracks leading back to Toulon. So the guns had to be dismantled and heaved on to heavy wagons for the journey. The hard physical labour of drawing the wagons had exhausted Marmont’s men and mules, but there had been no rest for them when they returned to the camp. Every available man was toiling away to complete the first of Captain Buona Parte’s batteries.Work continued through the night, in the wan orange glow of small fires and torches. Napoleon had decided he would break with the normal tradition of assigning letters to each battery. Instead, he would give them names - something the men could relate to more closely. The first would be called the Battery of the Mountain.
As soon as the ramparts and embrasures were complete, sweating, grunting men dragged the thick timbers of the gun platform into position and packed them down into the earth, just as Marmont arrived with his guns. Napoleon hurried over, torch held above his head to examine them.
‘They’ll do for now, but we’ll have to fit them to standard carriages as soon as we can.’ Napoleon patted Marmont on the shoulder and smiled. ‘Well done! The Royal Navy’s going to have quite a shock when the first twenty-four-pounder balls start raining down on them!’
‘I’m sure they will, sir,’ Marmont replied, and then looked uneasy. ‘Trouble is, we could only find a few shot and no gunpowder. The Cap Nègre battery has been out of commission for some months, almost stripped bare.’
‘Damn!’ Napoleon clenched his fist. ‘Then you’ll have to set off and find some ammunition at first light. There’s a battery at Bau Rouge. Try that.’
‘Yes, sir.’
As Marmont turned to bellow orders to his men Napoleon checked his timepiece and bit his lip. The previous evening, he had sent an invitation to Saliceti, Fréron and Carteaux to come and observe the Battery of the Mountain open fire on the British fleet. Even if all five guns were ready in time, there would only be enough ammunition for a handful of salvoes before they ran out. That would not look good. Napoleon realised the only solution was to use one gun.That way he could make the ammunition last and he could personally supervise the loading and aiming of the piece.
So, as the light slowly strengthened, Napoleon focused his attention on preparing the leftmost gun, carefully selecting the best cannon balls for the opening shots. As the crew finished loading the first round and Napoleon sighted the barrel, Marmont came hurrying up to him. He nodded back over his shoulder.
‘The representatives are coming. Are we ready, sir?’
Napoleon nodded. ‘As ready as we’ll ever be. Is the general with them?’
‘I didn’t see him.’
So Carteaux had decided to snub him, Napoleon smiled.That was no surprise. Napoleon had achieved more in two days than the general had in several weeks - something that representatives Saliceti and Fréron were bound to appreciate.
Looking up, Napoleon saw the dim outlines of two horsemen cresting the ridge above the battery before they trotted down towards him. He advanced to meet them, saluting as they reined in. Saliceti looked around at the earthworks with a keen eye.
‘You’ve done well, Buona Parte.Very well indeed.’ He glanced at Fréron. ‘Wouldn’t you agree, citizen?’
Fréron nodded, and for the first time he smiled at Napoleon. ‘Seems I misjudged you, young man.’
Napoleon struggled not to wince at the backhanded compliment, and just bowed his head in modest acknowledgement. ‘Thank you, Citizen Fréron.’
‘How long before you are ready to fire?’
‘We were just about to start.’ Napoleon waved his hand towards a small platform that had been erected beside the battery. ‘If you’d like to observe from that platform, you’ll have a good view of proceedings.’
As Saliceti and Fréron took up their position, Napoleon crossed over to the gun he had selected and nodded to the corporal in charge of the crew. ‘I’ll fire the weapon.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Taking the portfire from one of the gunners, Napoleon looked through the embrasure at the frigate down in the harbour. Now the light was good enough to make out clearly the masts, spars and even the tracery of the rigging. The air was still and the surface of the sea was smooth and glassy. A handful of tiny figures were moving on the deck of the Aurore. Nothing could have looked quite so peaceful as the frigate, Naploleon smiled grimly. It was time to shatter the peace and remind the Royal Navy that they were at war. He stepped back from the embrasure and called out, ‘Stand clear of the gun!’
The crew stepped away as Napoleon took up position to one side of the gun carriage. He took a breath and lowered the portfire towards the end of the fuse protruding from the vent.The red glowing end touched the fuse. At once there was a hiss, a fizz and then a deep booming roar as a bright jet of f
lame burst from the dark muzzle of the cannon. A thick cloud of acrid greasy smoke immediately billowed round the gun and caught in the throats of the gun crew. Thrusting the portfire at the corporal, Napoleon darted forward to the embrasure and scrambled on to the earth rampart to try to observe where the shot fell.
He strained his eyes, fixing on the frigate, and the sea around it, all the while conscious that the representatives were keenly watching the performance of the new commander of artillery. After several tense seconds a distant spout of water lifted up from the sea, some distance from the frigate and off to one side. The spray quickly spattered down into the expanding ripple of water on the surface of the harbour, and then all sign of the point where the ball had fallen disappeared.
‘Marmont!’ Napoleon called out. ‘Did you see it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘How far short of the ship would you say?’
Marmont paused to calculate before he replied. ‘Two hundred . . . maybe two hundred and fifty yards. And fifty to the left.’
Napoleon nodded. ‘That’s what I thought.Very well. Loader!’
One of the crew stepped forward. ‘Sir?’
‘We’ll try two more measures of powder.’
‘Yes, sir.’The loader saluted, but Napoleon noticed the anxious look the man shot at his corporal.
‘What’s the problem?’
The corporal nodded at the twenty-four-pounder. ‘We’re already using as much powder as we dare, sir.’
‘Don’t worry, Corporal,’ Napoleon smiled reassuringly and patted the breach of the gun,‘this beast is tough enough for much larger charges yet. Now load her up as I ordered.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Napoleon adjusted the angle fractionally and fired the weapon again.There was another deafening explosion and belching cloud of smoke. This time the splash was much closer and dead in line with the frigate. Napoleon felt a surge of pride in his chest as he turned and nodded to the corporal.‘You can take over now. Keep the aim true and use the same charge.’