Can No One Win Battles if I'm Not There

by Geoffrey Watson

  To give Beresford his due, his jaw dropped only briefly and his mouth stayed resolutely shut.

  B Squadron spent the rest of the day until dusk simply observing the walls of Olivenza. They were very old, but in quite a reasonable state of repair, even though the French had not had to spend much of their effort here, as they had at Badajoz. The Spanish defenders had surrendered quickly enough to preserve most of the defences intact.

  According to the captured officers, the French had only left a weak battalion in the town; more of an irritation than a serious strategic statement. Four or five hundred men surrounded by many thousands of the enemy had to believe that they had no long term future, unless Soult came storming back with his army in the next ten days.

  Only token resistance ought to have been expected against a determined assault, but Beresford had been dilatory and ultra cautious instead of determined and the garrison had taken heart and declined to be moved.

  When it got dark, B Squadron ghosted up to the walls to examine the masonry and the ditches and obstacles in front of them. These secondary defences were a mere hindrance to a furtive reconnaissance like this and they established four or five places where the condition of the mortar and masonry gave cause for optimism that an assault squad could reach the top.

  Next morning, they commandeered the blacksmith wagons of the closest cavalry units and started a programme to fabricate a couple of score of spikes with substantial grips that could be used to auger them into cracks between the stones and attach ropes to them when they were firmly seated.

  The few guns that were being used to try and breech the walls were persuaded to concentrate all their efforts on the wall close to the main town gate. This left the entire length of the town wall, save that one place, unmolested. Vere hoped that the working parties that they had heard repairing the fabric in the other areas above them, would be concentrated by the main gate when the time came for them to make their assault. One of the more promising climbs was quite close to a damage repair party last night.

  The major in command of the guns was more than happy to co-operate. Until now he had considered his efforts to be mostly a waste of powder and shot. He was delighted to do as Vere asked and keep the Frogs awake throughout the night with a blind bombardment on fixed lines, culminating in massed salvos just before it was light enough for the brigade of infantry to parade forward in a dawn demonstration. It ought to be enough to fix all French eyes on a simulated attack on the ‘breech’.

  Ever since Buçaco, when the Hornissen had helped Wellington’s engineer officer determine which parts of the ridge could be climbed, there had been a goodly number of men who prided themselves on their mountaineering skills and who had been willing pupils of Johan Thuner, the Swiss mountain man.

  Half a dozen of these trained climbers led the way at each of the three selected sites, situated on either side and between the two town gates that were not being subjected to the regular bombardment.

  Six men at each site were not enough to be seen or attract any attention from enemy eyes above them. In the early hours they set about building a spider’s web of ropes attached to jammed metal spikes.

  It had been planned that they would take up to an hour stringing hand ropes to allow an entire troop to swarm through the crenellations onto the connecting walkways. Fortunately they had allowed for problems.

  The walls were old and receptive to the spikes. The connecting webs grew rapidly and silently. On the middle section between the two gate towers, the leading man wriggled between the crenellations and found, visible even in the early morning gloom, that the walkway hardly existed and that it was probably more perilous on the inner wall than the outer.

  Three entry points were quickly changed to two and the squadron divided. 1 and 2 Troops made up the larboard watch (traditional use of naval terms) under Captain Fischer. Vere took the starboard watch of 3 and 4 Troops, all of them with blackened faces and wearing their bonnets in place of the normal dragoon helmets affected by the Hornissen.

  On the other side of Olivenza, the twelve pounders were keeping up a slow pounding of the ‘breach’. Almost an hour remained before the tempo was to increase and the demonstration begin.

  Four French sentries had been distracted by the guns. Roberto’s special fighting knives and Paddy Ryan’s enthusiastic training accounted for all of them with no noise and the Hornets forced their way through the tiny doorways into the gatehouses themselves.

  The guard details were about forty men in each building, but two thirds were asleep and any thoughts of resistance were stillborn when they awoke to find terrible, black-faced demons all around them.

  Two of the town gates could now be thrown open and the Hornets no longer needed the artillery bombardment or the demonstration by the main gate. It was too late to stop it starting, but messengers were sent and half the assaulting brigade was diverted, marching around the wall and straight through the open gates.

  From the towers of the gatehouses, the Hornets had a good view of all the guns returning fire on Beresford’s artillery. It was still too dark and the range was too far for them to be lethally accurate, but thirty Hornets firing from each tower silenced the guns completely within thirty seconds. It took hardly any longer for white cloths to appear everywhere and the Hornets were able to march out in time for a good breakfast.

  Vere took Fischer with him when he went to see Marshal Beresford later in the morning. Whatever Sir William might have been thinking privately, he was most generous with his praise, which Vere redirected towards Fischer. “It was entirely coincidental d’you see, Sir William. Only a week ago we were riding past the place and speculating about why the French would bother garrisoning a town that was so very old and difficult to hold.

  I challenged my captains to suggest a way of getting in and it was Otto Fischer’s plan we followed. We had no idea we should capture two gates quite so easily. I can only think that the French had little faith in their task. I should myself hate having to defend the town against much more than bows and arrows.”

  Beresford smiled thinly. “One gets the feeling, Colonel, that you are almost diminishing the achievements of your men. Take care, Sir. If I become convinced that it was as easy as you make out, then Sir, I should be tempted to request you to do the same with Badajoz.”

  “Touché, Sir William! I do not diminish the achievements of B Squadron. They did exactly what was asked of them and if the French do not always rise to the challenge, it could be perhaps that they realise they cannot match us.

  We have been fortunate in our encounters, particularly against their cavalry in the past year. It is becoming noticeable that their horsemen are more wary than hithertofore when they see our uniforms. As practically all our mounts have been provided by the enemy in the past, such timidity is cause for concern.

  Pray do not ask us to use our talents on Badajoz though, I think it beyond us at the present time. In fact, I have been rethinking what we may best do to help, now that Soult and Latour Maubourg have both gone south again.

  That they shall both come back, you may be sure. When they do, it shall once more be a matter of numbers and I have a thought that I may find the Spanish General Ballesteros still manoeuvring against General Maransin close to Seville. I know that he should adore to have a real battle against the French and I might just entice him this way if you can manage without the Hornets for a week or two.”

  He kept his face blank while he watched the play of emotions on Beresford’s face. At length he got an answer from a very harassed general. “I am asked to invest Badajoz with no siege train. There is no danger to our army save from the south. I am not going anywhere. Pray leave us for a month, Colonel, if it shall bring me an additional thousand men against the time when Soult shall inevitably return.”

  CHAPTER 9

  The German battalion of Hornissen was back together as one unit, or at least they would be as soon as Vere and his two squadrons returned from wherever it was they had gone.

>   Welbeloved had brought five hundred men with him, escorting Lord Wellington on the two-day rapid journey from the Portuguese frontier near Ciudad Rodrigo. These were made up of the two squadrons of Hornissen that had performed so well during Masséna’s retreat; there was Addenbrooke’s B Company of Hornets and Hickson’s G Company of Spanish Avispónes.

  G Company’s complement were almost all fully trained recruits, but still regarded as Avispas or Wasps and slightly apprehensive about their first real experience of warfare, as opposed to the aggressive raids that were part of their training.

  The disappearance of Vere and his two squadrons was not really a mystery, although Marshal Beresford was not very forthcoming about their whereabouts. Indeed, apart from a brief reference to their help in intelligence gathering and some assistance given in taking Olivenza, he was deliberately vague about them.

  Fortunately, Vere had left his reports for Welbeloved with the usual copy to Lord Wellington. Both men read these with interest, but kept their opinions to themselves.

  Wellington had been concerned in case Soult came back with superior numbers and had sent General Alten with the King’s German Legion light brigade from Lisbon. Beresford already had orders to try and recruit from the Spanish army destroyed by Soult and Vere’s initiative in this direction was approved.

  Even Beresford warmed to Captain Weiss a couple of days later, when he brought A Squadron back with the news that General Castaños was following with two and a half thousand survivors of the battle of Gévora.

  Better news was still to come. Vere had known that General Ballesteros and his division were playing hide and seek with the French General Maransin around Seville. Two days later B Squadron returned. Vere had distracted Maransin enough to allow Ballesteros to give him the slip and bring his entire division of three and a half thousand men to swell Beresford’s army.

  The number of troops under Beresford’s command was now almost thirty thousand and Wellington sat down and wrote voluminous directions for the siege of Badajoz to begin in earnest. He also gave detailed instructions on every other matter that he could think of, particularly regarding the expected reappearance of Soult from the south.

  Beresford did his best to follow his instructions to the letter. Without siege guns, his chances were slight. Every effort was made to drag a number of large calibre ordnance over from nearby Elvas, but when they arrived it was found that they were very, very old indeed. Some, in fact, were over two hundred years old and all seemed to have differing calibres. The nightmare began when shot had to be found for them; a different size for each cannon.

  Wellington stayed for ten days before rushing back north again. Reports arrived to suggest that Masséna had revived his army far more rapidly than anyone could believe possible. Once more he was moving towards the frontier and the relief of Almeida and Ciudad Rodrigo. The Commander-in-Chief had to be there in person.

  His last piece of welcome intelligence before he left was that the Spanish in Cadiz had agreed to co-operate. General Blake intended to land eight thousand men at the mouth of the Guadiana and attempt to march up the river to join Beresford.

  It was possible but speculative, as Soult would know about it very quickly and move to prevent it if he could.

  Welbeloved reacted immediately, sending Vere and Roffhack down the river with the German battalion. With Wellington’s approval they were to do all they could to assist the Spanish and distract the French.

  It was a relief. He could see no way that the Hornets could help in the siege of a large fortress town like Badajoz, whereas they would be in their element screening the approach of the Spaniards, if indeed the Spaniards were actually coming.

  Without anything having been said, he knew that, in spite of all the help that they had given, the presence of the Hornets was a constant irritant to the harassed marshal. While he was so immersed in all the frustrating detail of the siege, it seemed diplomatic to remove them from his sight.

  Welbeloved was convinced that Soult would return sooner or later and he wanted to explore the area. Wellington had already selected his own preferred battlefield if Soult were to make his move. All units had been told to make their way to the little town of La Albuera, about ten miles south east of Badajoz if battle was inevitable.

  B Company went with him and they made a thorough survey of the undulating, open country around the town. He enjoyed himself, prodding the rather formal and humourless Captain Addenbrooke and his much livelier trio of lieutenants into placing themselves in the position of the commander of the French army, advancing to attack the allied army emplaced in the low hills across the stream running north to south past the town.

  Sergeant Major O’Malley also joined in the discussion and it was fascinating to watch the interplay between the five men. Addenbrooke and O’Malley arguing that the French should be cautious and remember the lessons they had learned at Buçaco when attacking allied forces that would almost certainly be hidden from view.

  The three lieutenants, Collins, Moore and Colston on the other hand, pointed out that none of the French was likely to have fought at Buçaco and should very likely pile in, in column, aiming at the perceived weakness of any Spanish units that they could identify.

  It brought Welbeloved’s thoughts back to the quality of the Spanish troops that had already joined. General Castaños was a senior general who had been created Duque de Bailén after forcing the surrender of ten thousand French troops at Bailén nearly three years ago.

  Welbeloved had studied the battle and splendid result though it was, the French General Dupont had helped enormously by allowing his force to be trapped and surrounded by three times his own numbers. Not so much a victory as an abject French surrender by an untypical, mediocre, French general.

  Now Castaños had arrived with the remains of Mendizabal’s beaten army; two and a half thousand men who had no confidence whatever in their own ability. What is more, when Welbeloved had offered the services of Hickson’s company of Avispas to help improve their musketry, the refusal had been barely short of discourteous.

  On the other hand, General Ballesteros was junior to Castaños, but had been on active service for almost the whole of the last three years. He and his division had been playing cat and mouse with greater French numbers in Andalucia and were experienced and hardened soldiers.

  He was only too happy to encourage Hickson’s men to act as instructors to four of his best companies of sharpshooters. All that could be done in the short time available was to set up a firing range, show them how to polish the bores of their muskets and get them to select the ideal calibre of shot by passing them through fabricated gauges.

  Time then spent on the firing range produced results that astounded their officers and engendered an enthusiasm among all the skirmishers in the division to adopt this new gospel of St. Avispón.

  For the most part, the soldiers had been peasant conscripts, but two weeks of training by Hickson’s latter-day legends had made them at least the equal of the veteran French tirailleurs and undoubtedly better shots.

  * * *

  All the information that Colonel Lord Vere had was that the Spanish General Blake (reportedly of Irish descent) was landing with eight to ten thousand troops at the mouth of the River Guadiana, some hundred and twenty miles south from where it washed the walls of Badajoz.

  It gave him an interesting problem to solve. His first assumption was that Blake would march all the way up the valley of the Guadiana, following the gentle curve into Portugal as the river bulged westwards around the western foothills of the Sierra Morena.

  The southern slopes of the range were regarded as the borders of Andalucia and this is where Latour Maubourg had taken his army to wait until Marshal Soult had collected enough additional troops to make a serious challenge and relieve Badajoz.

  There was a delicate balance of possibilities. Soult was certain to find out about the landings at some stage, but would it be in time to intercept Blake and frustrate his mission alto
gether?

  Having failed to catch Ballesteros, General Maransin would most likely have united with Latour Maubourg, giving them a combined strength of ten thousand men along the Andalucian border. Colborne’s brigade was spread out to the north, watching them carefully and ready to run for their lives at the first sign that they were advancing aggressively.

  Should Blake’s Spaniards not stick to the Guadiana valley, Latour Maubourg’s cavalry scouts could hardly fail to find them. Vere had no doubt that the outcome of such an encounter would favour the experienced French veterans.

  It was not as clear cut as tossing a coin, but he decided to press on down the river himself, taking Major Hagen and A Squadron with him. If he had guessed correctly: he grinned when he realised how that would sound in his report (the right strategic assessment): he would be able to send A Squadron to find the others and they could patrol the flanks of Blake’s force all the way to Badajoz.

  The three captains of B, C and D Squadrons, under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Roffhack were rather more concerned with their stomachs at this precise moment than the approach of a Spanish army.

  To be even more precise, it was the stomachs of the men in their squadrons that needed to be considered in the beautiful, if largely unproductive province of Estremadura through which they would be travelling.

  Vere’s wagon train was working well, but had not entirely adjusted as yet to the sudden transfer of five hundred men, one hundred and twenty miles south to Badajoz. Beresford’s army was in much poorer straits, but supplies were starting to come through for them, direct from Lisbon.

  All the supplies for the Hornets came from Oporto and the German battalion was daily moving farther and farther away and stretching their supply line to extinction.

  The three captains had all served in Napoleon’s Légion Hanovrienne and were no strangers to the French policy of living off the land. In the Estremadura though, even the French could starve, maybe more so than before the fortifications of Torres Vedras.