Talavera

by Griff Hosker

  “Sir, we cannot fight the French without their help.”

  “I know! Keep close to Sir Arthur, eh? He is our best weapon in our fight against the French.”

  “You won’t be with us when we fight, sir?”

  “No, Angus and I have…” he smiled, “other fish to fry.” He was always enigmatic. We ate with the Spanish. There were tents for us. I noticed a distinct wariness on the part of the Spanish. Until just a year or so ago we had been enemies. It was hard for them to accept us as allies. I also heard mutterings and murmurings about the position of the Spanish General. His men would not accept orders from Sir Arthur and there was little likelihood of Sir Arthur serving under a Spanish General, especially as the general in question had been beaten so many times by the French already. I was not confident about the liaison.

  There was no talk during the meal. That would be in the cold light of day. Once again, we waited while out betters spoke. The meeting went on for some time. There appeared to be some sort of agreement but the two generals did not look happy. When we parted from the Spanish I was, once more, in command of the escort. I made sure that Troop Sergeant Fenwick, Captain Minchin and Sergeant Sharp preceded the General and that Sergeant Parkinson and the Lieutenant were at the rear. I would take no chances with the General’s life. I rode just behind the General and Colonel Selkirk. I was privy to their conversation.

  “I fear that this collaboration will not end well, Colonel. The damned man wanted me to send half of my men north to face Mortier! In the end, I persuaded him to give me a thousand of his men. I will send Wilson with fifteen hundred of his men to watch the northern passes. We do not want to be flanked when we attack Talavera.” He shook his head. “They do not want to fight. They want us to fight for them! It is their damned country!”

  “It is not that, Sir Arthur. It is the fact that if General Cuesta loses then another of his rivals will become the most powerful General.”

  “Good God! Do they not realise that unless they join together then Boney will win?”

  “Spain is a strange country, sir. What is our strategy then, sir?”

  “We are going to ask General Venegas to bring his army to support General Cuesta. Our armies will meet at Oropesa and then march to Madrid.”

  The Colonel said, “I thought Major Matthews said that the French had a Corps at Talavera.”

  “They do but with Cuesta’s men and those of Venegas, we will outnumber them. General Cuesta is of the opinion that our superior numbers will make Victor and Jourdan fall back to the capital.”

  “But you are not of that opinion, sir.” Colonel Selkirk was astute.

  “I am not. I have stuck my neck out. I am here with a tiny army and I am surrounded by many French Corps. Thanks to the nonsense of the Low Countries we do not have enough men to take on the French alone. We need the Portuguese and the Spanish. The Portuguese are reliable but the Spanish? I need Crauford and his men. I have half a mind to go back to Portugal and build defences.”

  “Sir, that would be a mistake.”

  “I know, Selkirk, but I think back six months to Sir John Moore’s example. He did the right thing for Portugal and it ended badly for the British Army. Am I making the same mistake that he did? Am I doing the right thing for Spain and will it end in disaster?”

  “Do not doubt yourself, Sir Arthur. You have bloodied the noses of every marshal and general the French have sent at you. I have no doubt that you will do the same here. If the Spanish prove less than reliable then it is a lesson learned!”

  “But, Colonel Selkirk, it will be my red coats who pay the price. They may behave abominably when they are not fighting but there are no finer soldiers on this earth.”

  By the time we reached Plasencia, I had learned a great deal about Sir Arthur. Sir Arthur turned to me after he had dismounted. “The day after tomorrow, Matthews, you will be required to take a troop from the 23rd and scout out Oropesa.” He nodded at Minchin’s troop. “These fellows are not too bad. Take them! The French will, no doubt, have their own scouts out. Humbug them. You are good at that sort of thing!”

  “Sir. Will you tell Colonel Hawker?”

  “Of course. Leave at first light. Keep me informed of any developments.”

  Captain Minchin had been nearby and could not have failed to hear the order. I turned to him and he grinned, “My fellow officers may not think much of me but it is good to know that you and the General appear to have a higher opinion. I will get the men sorted, sir. I think they will be happy with the task!”

  Sergeant Sharp had been at the rear. I told him what we would be doing. “Then I shall take two of our spares with us, sir. This land takes it out of animals.”

  “And buy whatever provisions you can. If we have two armies at Oropesa then there will be little to be had.”

  Chapter 15

  The Colonel and Angus left us when we reached the camp. The General had orders to write. Sir Robert Wilson and his detachment were assigned to watch the north and the orders were given for the army to move further east. The behemoth that was our army would take three days to make its tortuous way over the poor Spanish mountain roads to the rendezvous. The next day I was with the General and his senior commanders offering advice about the terrain around Talavera when a sergeant of the Guards arrived, “Sir, there is a Spaniard outside. He says he has something for someone called milord. We have him held securely sir.”

  Sir Arthur said, “Sergeant. We are busy. Have the fellow given something to eat and send him on his way, I have no time to talk to Spaniards!”

  “Sir, he has a French despatch bag and when we held him he asked for the Major.” He looked at me. “I think he means you, sir.”

  Sir Arthur said, “Well, Matthews?”

  “He could be one of the guerrillas, sir.”

  “Then bring him in, Sergeant. General Hill be so good as to cover the map eh?”

  It was Juan. He ignored the General and held out the bag towards me, “I told you we would be of help. We captured a French General. He had this bag. I cannot read it but I believe you can, milord.”

  I opened the bag. I recognised Marshal Soult’s signature, “General, these are despatches from Marshal Soult, Juan here says they were taken from a French General.”

  “A General?”

  “Juan, where is the general now?”

  “He is with Chaleco!”

  “Are you sure he is a general?”

  He shrugged, “he had a fancy uniform, like that one.” He pointed to General Hill. “And he said his name was General Baptiste Franceschi.”

  The General did not understand all of Juan’s words but he did the name. “Then, by God, I have them. Thank the fellow Matthews and give him some money. He deserves it!”

  I shook my head, “He does not want money, Sir Arthur, he wants weapons to fight the French.”

  “Then see the Quartermaster and get him whatever he needs!” This was the most animated I had ever seen Sir Arthur.

  He hurried inside to read the documents and left me with Juan. “Come, my friend, I will get weapons for you and your men.”

  “You are a good fellow, milord, when this battle comes, I shall watch out for you! None will rob your body!”

  With that cheerful thought in my head, I took him to the Quartermaster. Juan selected four sabres and four carbines along with lead balls and powder. He was happy.

  The next day the General told me that he now knew what Soult intended. He was gathering Corps to march south to meet us. Victor was to slow us down at the Albreche River. Sir Arthur knew how long it had taken us to reach this part of Spain. Soult and Ney were in Galicia and that gave us at least a month in which to strike towards Madrid. We would advance to Talavera. My scouting expedition, the next day, was even more vital now!

  It would be our last dinner for some time and so the Colonel, after receiving the orders from Sir Arthur, insisted upon a more formal affair than we had previously enjoyed. It was somewhat spoiled by the attitude and snide
comments from a section of the officers. It was a smaller group than hitherto. The fact that Sir Arthur had personally asked for the troop reflected well upon the regiment, but Captain Wilberforce and his clique seemed to resent not only Captain Minchin but also me. This insidiously divisive attitude was something unique to British regiments. In French regiments, there was no such snobbery. I chose to ignore it. However, Captain Wilberforce became so loudly obnoxious and his comments were aimed so directly at me that I could no longer restrain myself. I stood and, wiping my mouth, addressed the Colonel, “Colonel Hawker, you have a fine regiment, but I am afraid that I cannot suffer the loutish behaviour of Captain Wilberforce and some of the officers who seem to regard him as some sort of paragon. He is the very antithesis of a paragon. I bid you goodnight, sir.”

  Colonel Hawker stood, somewhat unsteadily, he had drunk a large amount of wine, “I apologise for Captain Wilberforce, Major Matthews.”

  That would have been the end of it had not Captain Wilberforce also stood and faced me, belligerently, “I do not apologise to an officer who is not even of this regiment. Should you seek satisfaction, sir, then I will happily oblige.”

  I went close to him. He was drunk to the point of staggering. The drink had loosened his tongue. “Three things, Captain: firstly, Sir Arthur has banned duelling. Secondly, I am an officer of superior rank and such a duel cannot take place.” I lowered my voice, “and thirdly, perhaps most importantly, with any weapon I am your superior! If we did duel then you would be a dead man. The next time that you are sober and you see me I shall expect an apology.”

  He made the mistake of trying to take a swing at me. Such an offence would have resulted in dire consequences had he connected. I stepped back allowing the swing to miss me and he fell to the floor. He caught his chin on the back of a chair and was rendered unconscious.

  “Colonel Hawker, I will leave you to deal with this officer unless,” I glowered at the others, “any other officer wishes to risk my wrath?” They quailed, “I hope to God that you have more courage when you face the French, gentlemen, for they will make mincemeat of you!”

  I was angry when I left the mess tent. I wasn’t angry with the Captain, he was a buffoon. I was angry with myself for allowing him to get to me. I had defended Captain Minchin. I hated the unfairness of the system. It would not come to a duel. I had seen the fear in the Captain’s eyes, even before he had collapsed. Sharp knew I was angry when I reached our billet. He smiled, “Sir, I managed to get some cocoa from one of the locals. That will make you feel better.”

  “How do you know I am not happy?”

  “With respect, sir, you have a face like a slapped arse.” His colourful language made me smile and began to diffuse my anger. “Whatever happened in the mess doesn’t matter. The lads in Mr Minchin’s troop know that. Just because a couple of officers haven’t the sense they were born with there is no need to get upset. Tomorrow, sir, we will be east of here and all that we will need to worry about will be the French! And we know that we can deal with them!”

  Sharp was down to earth and he had the ability to put everything in perspective. I sipped the cocoa. It had a kick!”

  “Oh, I forgot to say, sir. The Sergeant Major gave me a couple of measures of rum. That is Navy cocoa! You will sleep well tonight!”

  He was right and, as we headed east the next day, I felt like a new man. Politics and personal vendettas were forgotten. They were in the past!

  As we headed east, I did not even bother to look at the tents of the 23rd. I had the best of the regiment with me. The troop had learned how to work as a unit. The best scouts rode ahead of us. They spaced themselves well and all of them had adopted my technique of riding with a cocked weapon across the saddle. The rest of the troop, although they chattered, were also scanning the sides of the road and the ground which might harbour ambushers. In theory, we were in friendly territory. With General Cuesta to the south of us and General Wilson to the north, we should have been the safest soldiers in the land, but it did not do to get into bad habits and make mistakes.

  As we rode Captain Minchin spoke with me. “I feel I must apologise for Captain Wilberforce’s words last night, sir. He was drunk.”

  “I know and that is why he is not on a charge at this moment. If an officer cannot handle his drink then he should manage his intake. What the Captain did was the same as those red coats who were flogged by their regiments. Should his rank protect him?”

  “Probably not, sir.”

  “Put the Captain behind you. We have more important matters ahead of us. There will be a battle, Geoffrey, make no mistake about that. The General hopes that it is we who will have the superior numbers but I am not too certain about that. The Spanish are good soldiers. The guerrillas show us that but, hitherto, they have not managed to defeat the French. We are reliant on two Spanish generals doing what they have never done before, collaborating. Victor, Sebastiani, Mortier and Jourdan are all close to Madrid. If they combine then we would be outnumbered two to one.”

  “And you think, sir, that the 23rd will be called into action?”

  “I do and Sir Arthur will use them however he can. What we do today is the best way to use light cavalry but I fear that the lack of cavalry in the army means he will use you to fight the enemy cavalry and for that the regiment is ill-equipped.”

  “Ill-equipped, sir? We have carbines and sabres.”

  “And your sabres are not the equal of the French,” I lowered my voice. “Too many of your officers are like Captain Rogers, they think they are riding to hounds. They are reckless. If you are called upon to act as proper cavalry then be cautious. Keep your men together and watch the ground.”

  I had him confused, I could see that. “The ground, sir?”

  “When you trained in England it was on open ground was it not?”

  “Yes, sir. We had mock battles on Salisbury Plain.”

  “Look around you. Is this ground flat? Is it grassy? There are gullies and there are narrow streams and ditches. There are holes to trip horses. We ride bigger horses than the French and they are not as sure-footed.” I patted Donna, “I am the exception. My horse is Portuguese. She is sure-footed.”

  We spoke for most of the day and I offered him advice garnered from all of my years as a cavalryman. I had less than a week to complete Captain Minchin’s training. As Colonel Selkirk had intimated, I would be with the General when the battle began. Captain Minchin would be with the regiment!

  When we eventually reached Oropesa we found a peaceful town. There were neither French nor Spanish in what was, in reality, a large village. It had taken us two days to reach the settlement. It would take the Army longer. Our animals had suffered. The July sun meant that we had to begin our ride before the sun had risen and, at noon, we were forced to rest from the sun’s oppressive rays. We had been lucky. Our small numbers meant that we could find shelter in small woods and farm buildings. The twenty thousand men of Sir Arthur’s army would not. They would bake in the heat. The woollen uniforms of the army were not suited to the hot sun of Spain. I took the decision to rest for a day before we explored the area between us and Talavera. We were also fortunate in that the French gold I had been given was welcomed by those who lived in Oropesa. It bought us food and shelter. More importantly, it brought us intelligence. The French were to the east of Talavera. They were digging in along the Albreche River. They knew because some of those who lived in Talavera, anticipating a battle, had headed west. When I had scouted their army, with Juan, the French had been to the west of the town of Talavera. What had made them move? Then it came to me. They had had scouts out too. They had seen the movements of the British and Spanish armies. Marshal Victor was no fool. He was drawing us closer to Jourdan’s Corps. If we attacked then he could call upon reinforcements. We had the best chance of destroying a French Corps but the allied armies needed to combine and do so quickly.

  There were only ten of the troop’s horses which were in a fit condition for a patrol. Leavi
ng Captain Minchin and Troop Sergeant Fenwick to establish a camp for the 23rd, I led the other ten troopers and Sergeant Sharp, east. It was less than eighteen miles to Talavera. I decided to see how close I could get and confirm the news the Spanish had given to us. We were within sight of the town when we spied blue uniforms. We had just crested a rise and saw them ahead. It was a French light company. They were taking a noon break. There was a watercourse and the French were filling their canteens. Although there were just twelve of us, the French officer reacted quickly. The men who had been sheltering in the noon sun beneath tunics strung on muskets, quickly donned their tunics and shakoes and presented muskets. I had no intention of charging them. They were two hundred paces from us.

  Sergeant Parkinson said, “What do we do, sir?”

  “What I came here to do, Sergeant. We look for the French. This single company does not represent the French army.” I took out my telescope. The French were forming three ranks. The front rank was already kneeling. Like me, their officer would be looking for the rest of our regiment to decide if he ought to form a square. I could not see any more French units. Talavera rose from the river and I could not see French flags. Glancing to my left I saw a hill which was a little higher than the road upon which we stood.

  “Wheel left.” Still holding my telescope, I led my patrol towards the hill. As I did so I heard the French bugle sound. The infantry took a defensive stance. The French officer was being cautious. Once we reached the grassy knoll, I raised my telescope. I was now above the line of trees which had masked the approach to the town. There was no tented town before Talavera. There were no French there. The light infantry was a patrol. It begged the question, where were the cavalry? They were the ones the French normally used to patrol. As I moved the telescope back to view the light infantry, I had my answer. A squadron of Chasseurs was galloping along the road. The bugle had been sounded to summon them. The twelve of us would be outnumbered.

  “Right, chaps. Back to Oropesa! Lead them off, Sergeant Parkinson. Sergeant Sharp and I will show them our teeth!”