Talavera

by Griff Hosker

  “Fall back!”

  I heard Captain Rogers shout, “Major, we have them! Let us charge!”

  I saw Sergeant Parkinson roll his eyes.

  I shouted, “Fall back forty yards and dismount! This is as close as we are going to go!” I patted Donna and said, in Portuguese, “Good girl. I will get you sorted, don’t you worry.” I nodded to Sergeant Parkinson. “You and Corporal Groves pick two good men and wait here.” I handed him my Baker, “Think you can handle this?”

  He grinned, “Yes sir.”

  “You have the range of the bridge. Get into position and then start to pick off the gunners. It will make them nervous. They may try to fire the piece at you.”

  “Don’t worry, sir, there is cover aplenty here.” He nodded, “Thank you, sir. I will look after this for you.”

  I smiled, “Never doubted it for an instant.”

  I dismounted and walked back to the picket line. The French began to fire their muskets. They were well short. When Parkinson began to fire the Baker, it would unnerve them. In a perfect world, they would try to shift us. The damage we could do might gain us the bridge. Unless they were complete fools they would not try to do so. The troopers, by and large, were doing as I had ordered. One or two looked to Captain Rogers. He was still on his horse and I thought he might trip over his bottom lip. I had no time for such things.

  “Sergeant Sharp, take ten men and find the deserted house. We will use that as our headquarters. When you have found it send one man back here and then take the rest and try to annoy those infantrymen by the river.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sergeant Fenwick!”

  “Sir!” He appeared at my side, “Nicely done, sir. As smart a piece of work as I have seen in a long time. The two Froggies died sir. We have their horses.”

  “The horses will be useful. Sergeant Sharp is busy finding us a base. When his man comes then take half of the troop and get some food on the go.”

  “Sir.” He turned and barked orders out.

  “Lieutenant Minchin!”

  “Sir!”

  “I want ten men here with a good sergeant. They will take the first watch. I have a command post organised. Sergeant Fenwick will show you where it is.”

  “Right, sir.” He looked happy. “Thank you, sir.”

  “What for?”

  He shrugged, “I think you know, sir!”

  That just left Captain Rogers. I waved him over. “Dismount, Captain. Come with me while I see to my horse.”

  He came albeit reluctantly. I led him far enough away so that his men could not hear and I put Donna between us and them. As I spoke, I first cleaned Donna’s wound with vinegar and then smeared honey on it. The horse would lick the honey off but that was part of the healing process. The bleeding would be stopped and the vinegar would stop any infection.

  I spoke quietly but with authority, “Captain, you will stop behaving like a petulant child. If you do not then I will put you under arrest and charge you with dereliction of duty. I will send you back to the general. You will be sent home and the money you spent on your commission will be wasted.”

  “My father is a judge!”

  “And out here that means nothing! These men need you as a leader. Up to now, you have not impressed me. Some of your men have but not you. That changes now. Impress me!” He stared at me and his fists bunched. I laughed, “Oh please, try to hit me! That would make my day!” I saw fear in his eyes. I put my face close to his, “Captain Rogers I have been fighting since I was little older than sixteen. I have forgotten more than you will ever learn. All I am trying to do is to keep you alive. Forget the glory. Try to survive. This is your one and only warning. When I give an order then you say yes sir! Understood?”

  “Sir, I came here to fight! I came here for glory!”

  “Until you learn to be a soldier then you will do neither. This is like your first day at school. You will learn from the moment you rise until the moment you fall wearily into your bed!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  I should have known that he did not mean it. That was my mistake. His mistake was costlier.

  Chapter 8

  The setting up of a camp at the deserted farmhouse showed me the mettle of the troopers. The NCOs knew their business as did Lieutenant Minchin. They were organised and efficient. About half of the troopers showed that they had experience too, for they got on with jobs without being told. Some of the men, however, needed to be sorted out. I saw the frustration on Troop Sergeant Fenwick’s face. He needed his officer to give him support and Captain Rogers was patently disinterested in how the troop was run. Some of the wasters just waited around the Captain admiring his weapons, uniform and generally, fawning around him to keep themselves out of work. The Troop Sergeant could do little while they did so. This was a distraction I could well do without. I heard the pop of carbines and the sharper crack of the Baker as Sergeant Sharp did as I had asked. I heard the sound of French muskets in reply. They were not firing in volley but individually. French infantry were notoriously poor shots. I had seen Napoleon despair of their inability to fire their muskets so much that he had once attacked using a column of men just ten files wide without even bothering to load their weapons. He had used them as a human battering ram. British infantrymen were better trained. Their voltigeurs and tirailleurs were better but our men would be safe enough until the French formed lines and sent volleys across the river. Sergeant Sharp would withdraw before the men were in any danger. Then I heard the sound of my Baker being used by Sergeant Parkinson.

  As dusk fell the air was filled with the smell of food cooking. Some of the troopers showed initiative and the stew of salted meat was augmented with wild herbs and greens. I smiled when I saw Captain Rogers turn up his nose at the plate offered by his servant trooper. This food would be far better than the food we would be forced to eat once Sir Arthur’s campaign truly got underway.

  Sergeant Sharp returned. The men he had taken were in a good mood. I heard them telling their friends how many men they had hit. Alan smiled, “They did alright, sir, but not as well as they think they did. When Johnny Frenchman ducked they thought they had hit them. There will be a couple who will need to attend sick parade that is all. No casualties on our side.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. Get some food and have Parkinson and Groves relieved.”

  Captain Rogers looked up, “It is not the way to fight a war, Sergeant.”

  Sergeant Sharp rolled his eyes but said, “Sorry, sir. I stand corrected.” Turning back to me he said, “We hit five or six of them. Just enough to annoy them, sir, and keep their doctor busy.”

  After we had eaten, I had an officers’ call. To the obvious annoyance of Captain Rogers, I invited the sergeants. Sergeant Parkinson had been relieved and he attended. He handed me back the Baker. He grinned, “Lovely little weapon, sir. I managed to hit three of them. They now have timber protecting the gun. You can still hit them but you can’t see them.”

  I nodded, “You hit the gun crew?”

  “Oh yes sir, Mrs Parkinson did not raise any soft lads. I hit the officer and the sergeant with two of my first shots. I couldn’t tell if they were wounded or worse but they had to be carried off.”

  “Don’t worry about that. They will not be at the gun anytime soon. You did well.” The fact that I complimented him resulted in a glance at his own officer. Captain Rogers did not compliment!

  When they were all seated, I noticed that Captain Rogers had his servant find the only chair from the deserted farmhouse. He was seated as though he was royalty. I was not offended. I preferred to stand anyway. “Tomorrow our real work begins. Lieutenant Minchin, I would like you to act as adjutant.” He nodded. The captain appeared unbothered by my action. “Divide the troop into four. I will lead one section, Captain Rogers a second and you a third. The other quarter will remain here to guard the camp. They can also be the pickets for tonight. I want a good sergeant with the guards. Captain Rogers, you will probe to the wes
t. There is a road of sorts which heads west. Follow it and get to the sea. When you reach the sea head to the river and work your way back. We need to know what the defences are like there. Lieutenant Minchin, you will head upstream. Find us another crossing beyond their last vedettes. The bridge is the obvious place for the general to cross but the more we can threaten their lines of communication the better. I will cover the area on the two sides of the bridge.”

  “Do we engage, sir?”

  “With carbines, Lieutenant Minchin? Yes, we fire at them? Do we cross the river? No. We are here to scout and to contain. Lieutenant, I need a pair of messengers to take a report back to the general. One should be a corporal. The report needs to get through. If I am any judge of the general, he will be on his way north anyway!”

  They all seemed happy about my orders. Even Captain Rogers looked less annoyed. I waved over Troop Sergeant Fenwick, “Sergeant?”

  “Sir?”

  “Try to keep out of bother tomorrow, eh?”

  He looked aggrieved and began to bluster, “But sir I…” realisation dawned. He would be with Captain Rogers, “Right, sir. You can rely on me.”

  Sharp and I checked on our own horses before we retired. I saw that few of the troopers did. That could be costly in a long campaign. Minor irritations, unless dealt with promptly, could develop into major problems. This was not England. A trooper who lost his horse would be afoot. I rose before dawn. It was my way. I was pleased to see that the sentries were alert. I had wondered if the French might try to attack us while we were in camp. That they had not was due, I thought, to our initial aggression. They had probably stood to all night in anticipation of a night attack by us.

  After checking that the sentries were awake, I made water and then washed. The fire needed attention and I built it up. Sergeant Sharp joined me and, between us, we filled the large dixie with water. Sergeant Parkinson joined us, “Sir, you shouldn’t have to put the water on.”

  I smiled, “Why not, Sergeant? I will be drinking the tea we make.”

  “Yes, sir, but you are an officer.”

  “If you haven’t noticed before, Sergeant, the lead balls which fly at us don’t discriminate. This is not England and we are not in a barracks. Is my authority threatened by my putting on water?”

  “Well no sir, but…,” he shook his head, “you take some getting used to, sir. I will go and get the duty lads to get breakfast on the go.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.”

  When he had gone Sharp said, “He asked the Lieutenant to be assigned to your section, sir. In fact, there were so many that he had to draw lots.”

  I shook my head, “Lieutenant Minchin is an officer. He should have made the decision himself. Still, I am flattered.”

  We had the first brew and had some hard tack and salt pork. The first rays of light dawned and reveille was called. I saw some of the older hands pour some tea on their pork and hard tack. It made for an interesting taste. Those with poorer teeth would find it easier to eat. I inspected Donna’s wound. It no longer looked angry. If there had been any doubt, I would have ridden one of the spares. We saddled our horses and I loaded my guns. We had cleaned them the night before. By the time we had led our horses to the camp most of the troopers had breakfasted.

  “Troop Sergeant Fenwick, sound ‘boots and saddles.”

  “Sir!”

  Even as the notes were dying away, I heard the bugle calls from across the river. It was ‘to arms’! They had heard our call and were reacting. That was instructive. It meant they had not planned an attack.

  I mounted and slung my Baker over my pommel. Lieutenant Minchin and his detachment were ready first and, saluting, he headed upstream. In many ways, he had the harder task for I knew not if there was even a trail heading east. Captain Rogers was still preparing himself when my detachment was ready, “Sergeant Rose, take charge of the camp!”

  “Yes, sir and good hunting!”

  We rode to the two troopers who were watching the crossroads, “Anything?”

  Trooper Harris shook his head, “Not until you sounded the bugle, sir, and then it was like an ant’s nest that had been disturbed. They are standing to. They filled bags with river sand during the night, sir, and built a sort of redoubt around the gun.”

  “Thank you for that. We will try to avoid giving them a target. Draw your weapons and single file. Sergeant Sharp, watch the rear.”

  I pulled Donna to the right and headed through the undergrowth. I picked my way north and east. We were sheltered by the trees but the infantry had a target as they saw occasional flashes of blue. I was not unduly concerned. They were wasting ball and powder. The range was over two hundred yards and there were so many branches that the odds on being struck were minimal. Having said that I knew that it would be disconcerting for the troopers. I said, over my shoulder, “There is more danger from river flies than these lead insects. Watch the trail and try not to fall off.”

  I had not yet travelled this trail and, in truth, I was not sure we would be able to travel very far but I needed to see if the army could attack from here. They only had one artillery piece and, as we had already seen, the troops we faced were not the best. The trail levelled out. I had a feeling it would end up where we had seen the French washing, just below our first camp. The trees thinned and I held up my hand. The troop halted. I nudged Donna forward. The river was just thirty paces from me. I saw a small island in the middle. In my experience that normally meant that one side was shallow and fordable. I saw the French. They were standing to. Unlike further upstream, they had not built any defences. However, if they dropped then they would have some protection from the undergrowth. I dismounted and, taking my Baker, moved closer to the river. I found a tree and I leaned against it. The river was almost at my feet.

  I had, of course, been seen when I moved. Lead balls zipped into the trees. A French officer ordered them to cease fire and then someone shouted for tirailleurs. They would try to shift me with light infantry. I saw that they had a line of blue by the river but, further back, they also had log defences. They would be able to cover an assault across the river. Slow moving infantry would stand no chance. Beyond the river, I saw fields and open ground. Cavalry could use that. If Minchin could find a bridge or a ford upstream then Sir Arthur could exploit it. I was about to move when I saw the light infantry company arrive. It was under strength. There were just over fifty of them. They began to wade across to the island. I now knew which side was fordable. I shouted, “Sharp, be ready to give them a volley eh?”

  “Sir!”

  Above me, I heard the men dismount. The advantage we had was that the troopers could rest their carbines on the saddles of their horses. I aimed the Baker at the Captain who led the men. I fired as he was halfway to the island. He fell clutching his arm. Sharp shouted, “Fire!” The twenty carbines and the Baker fired together.

  A French lieutenant belatedly shouted, “Fire!”

  Our balls struck just as the French were taking aim. There was a volley of forty or so muskets but most hit the branches and trees. Smoke drifted across the river making it impossible to see the full effect of the volley. I hurriedly made my way back to my horse and I mounted. “That was instructional, Sharp, lead the troop back to the road. Let us see what the other side of the river is like.”

  I dropped to the rear. I saw the grins on trooper’s faces as I passed them. Such tiny actions put heart into soldiers. They had fired their weapons in anger. They had hurt the enemy and we had come away unscathed. The first wound in the troop and even the first death would be easier to bear. We were still in single file as we crossed the road. With twenty men riding across the road we were in view for some minutes. The gun crew saw an opportunity for revenge. Perhaps Parkinson had managed to incapacitate the senior member of the crew and his replacement was young. Whatever the reason the gun was fired just as I neared the road. British gunners like to use roads to almost bounce their cannon balls. It was effective and, had they done so, then th
ey might have hurt us. As it was the ball sailed over the heads of the two troopers who were on the road. We heard it crash through trees some two hundred paces behind us. The troopers cheered and jeered. I was across the road before they had reloaded. It was another victory. More importantly, the men had been under fire and had not run. I spurred Donna to overtake the troopers and retake the lead.

  “Well done, men.”

  “Couldn’t hit the side of a barn, sir!”

  That was not true. French artillery was good. Whoever commanded the gun had made a mistake. We trotted down the trail and I soon reached Sergeant Sharp. He pointed ahead. “This is a bigger trail, sir. There are open fields ahead. I think this is the main route west.”

  I nodded, “Drop to the rear.” I spurred Donna. The ground was flatter here. The trees had been cut and fields had crops growing. It was spring and so they were just green shoots. It meant that when we crossed them, we would be exposed. I held up my hand to halt the troopers when we reached the first piece of open ground. I took out my telescope. The French had better defences. I saw why. The river was much wider here, almost one hundred and forty paces wide but there were two islands. They were little more than mudbanks but cavalry could cross here. The other side of the river was cultivated too and I saw a farmhouse. A French flag had been attached to its roof. More worryingly there were also two more of the three pounders. Soult had kept his main batteries for the Douro but he had been happy to allow this detachment some firepower.

  I waved my hand to lead the detachment west. I headed up the slope. The French were twenty or so yards back from the river and I rode across the fields. We were two hundred paces from the river. We were within range of the French guns but I intended to move quickly. I set Donna to canter. Single file meant that it was easier to move quickly. The field was flat and I risked looking to the right as the bugles sounded. The battalion was not understrength, in fact, it looked to be either a regiment or a brigade for I saw at least four companies form up. They were too far away for me to hear actual words but when I saw the two cannons belch, I knew that the command to fire had been given. It was our speed which saved us. Artillery, even well handled, needs a ranging shot. Their ranging shot was short and ploughed into soft, turned soil. Had it been hard pasture it might have bounced. By the time they had the range, we had passed. I saw that there were no more guns and I slowed. I took us closer to the river to inspect their defences.