Stretches of this valley were wide enough to take two hundred horsemen riding side by side. The French cavalry would think that this terrain was made for them. Ten squadrons could ride at the charge in that amount of space and need only be five riders deep.
MacKay had nearly eight hundred Hornets with him and was confident that they could stop ten squadrons, even on such a wide front. The problem was that the French had another forty squadrons following and that was asking too much of his men.
It wasn’t all like that. There were areas where dense woods or rocky outcrops narrowed the gap to accommodate only a hundred riders or less and that is where the Hornets waited. They adopted the tactics that had proved so successful when used with smaller numbers.
Half the men stayed mounted and formed a line across the gap to let the enemy know that they must fight their way through. In no way could it be described as standard cavalry tactics. Hopefully, it would serve to confuse the leading squadrons.
Having given the French a target, the rest of the Hornets were spread across the gap in prone positions. Nearly all the men of the first and second battalions now had breech-loading rifles, which meant that there were two rifles ready and waiting for every enemy attacker that they could pack into the gap.
The first time they adopted this tactic, the leading French squadrons could not take it seriously. They could see that their area of attack was much reduced and they could see a line of horsemen stretched across the gap. If they had bothered to count, they would have seen the equivalent of four squadrons.
Of course, they stopped briefly to study the position. They may even have spotted the line of skirmishers, but cavalry never took any account of skirmishers and they knew that there were thousands more horsemen behind them. It was a pathetic gesture and should delay them no more than five minutes.
They didn’t even wait for equal numbers. After all, they were going to punch a hole through a line that was only four riders thick.
The bugles sounded the trot. Three squadrons moved forward in wide columns. It was almost like a drill exercise and just as in a drill exercise the canter was sounded when they passed the three hundred yard mark.
As they moved into the canter, all their sabres were drawn as one. MacKay and Gonçalves blew long blasts on their whistles.
In one sense, the chasseurs were fortunate. Normally the Hornets liked to harvest all the riderless horses after an engagement. With the thousands of riders advancing behind the chasseurs, that would not be possible today. None of the men was happy about it, but the brutal fact was that horses were more valuable than their riders. In military terms, there was very little more useless than a cavalryman without a horse.
The Hornets shot the horses. Not all of them: some aimed at the neck and head, knowing that if they missed their target, the rider was just behind, or perhaps the next rider following him.
There was utter destruction. Bodies of horses and men were strewn across the path of following riders, who were themselves the targets of the second discharge of the split volley.
None of the Hornets had fired more than one shot when fresh whistle blasts brought them to their feet and running through their lines of riders to reclaim their own mounts.
With hardly a backward glance, the Hornets cantered away to their next selected position and changed jobs. The mounted line dismounted and became the skirmishers and the skirmishers sat in line, fussing with their weapons, cleaning and reloading.
The French had learned their lesson very quickly. They approached the second line very cautiously, stopping quarter of a mile away and studying the position through their field telescopes; uniforms of ample lace and braid indicating more senior officers becoming involved.
It must have been utterly infuriating to have the whole of a cavalry division held up by the thin line of horsemen, but they had seen the shocking result of impetuosity and there was obviously an argument raging. The longer they took, the more time Picton had to get away unscathed.
At last came a move that MacKay had been hoping not to see. A battery of three guns of a horse artillery unit came racing from the rear and prepared to unlimber on slightly higher ground, about level with the pretty uniforms. The gunners had chosen a place from where they could send loads of grapeshot along the whole length of the line of mounted Hornets and take out many of the skirmishers at the same time. The Hornets would have little option but to move away quickly, with five thousand horsemen hot on their heels.
MacKay did not hesitate. There were rocky mounds on the right of their position. He yelled at Gonçalves. “Take over Fernando!”
Running towards the mounds, he looked for his best marksmen. “Algy and Dai Evans! Bring your three best shots wi’ you. Those guns are at maximum range, but we ought tae be able tae make life miserable for them frae those mounds.”
He was making himself comfortable when Cholmondeley and Evans, with their six men, flopped down around him.
“Shoot at anything ye can see moving, lads. Stop them using the guns, then gae for the horses. We dinnae want them moving out o’ range.” He concentrated on his target, not really hearing Dai Evans talking to his marksmen. “Wind is steady and light, boyos, right to left. Aim at the man-size space just to the right of the Frog and delighted you should be.”
That was just where MacKay was aiming and he squeezed his trigger, watching as the gunner with a rammer spun violently clockwise and collapsed. “Add six inches tae your estimate, Dai. I hit him on his left side.”
He reloaded quickly and searched for an officer. Meanwhile, taking their time, his eight marksmen started to scare the daylight out of the gunners by letting daylight into them. Pinpoint accuracy was not possible, but the calibre of their Fergusons was 0.68 inch. Any gunner stopping a round of more than two-thirds of an inch, would immediately lose interest in his guns.
MacKay’s second shot spun his braided target the other way and he muttered crossly to himself. I’m either getting tae old for this game or the wind is nae as steady as Dai said.”
Evans’s Ferguson fired again and a gunner was smashed to the ground. MacKay heard the loud whisper, as he was intended to. “Duw, Colonel, the wind is as I said it was.”
Half the gunners were down and the rest all moved to handle the middle gun. Whether or not they realised it, this made an easier target and five more were hit, leaving the rest either cowering behind the guns or running towards the horses.
Algy Chumley directed his men toward the unfortunate beasts. They were a bigger target, but only four shots were fired at them. The surviving gunners were using them to get away from the death trap as quickly as they could.
The elimination of the battery of guns had not gone unnoticed. The French could see, from the clouds of powder smoke, the place where the shooting was coming from. They might not believe it at such a distance, but there was no other explanation and it was clear to the group of cavalry officers that they were as close as the gunners. This fact and the probable realisation that the cavalry alone could do little to stop the Rosbifs escaping, may have become obvious at about the same time. The horsemen retired another quarter of a mile and MacKay came down from his small mountain and led his children after the Third Division.
Not quite all his children. Dai Evans and Four Platoon of D Company were detached. They would lurk in cover until they were sure that the enemy infantry was still advancing. It was something that Lord Wellington would be anxious to know about.
CHAPTER 6
Lord Wellington was not merely anxious to know what he was facing, he was close to desperation, although no one could possibly realise this from his calm face and icy reserve.
He thanked Welbeloved gravely when Evans finally reported that Marmont’s infantry and cavalry were within two miles and that the numbers to be faced were at least twenty thousand infantry and five thousand cavalry, all known to have left the vicinity of Ciudad Rodrigo. It could only be assumed that another thirty thousand or more were following on behind them.
He spoke quietly and confidentially to Welbeloved. “We find ourselves in something of a scrape, Sir Joshua. I have to admit to you that, even with far greater numbers than I anticipated, I did not dream that they were really serious.
Then when it appeared likely that they may be intent on mischief, my divisional commanders had gone to sleep. Picton delayed for so long that he is fortunate to have reached here at all and that was largely due to your efforts on his behalf.
Craufurd and the others got clear but are now miles to the north, leaving me here with three divisions facing twenty-five thousand men and possibly double that number on the way. If the French attack today, we may be beat and if they can bring the rest of their army up in time, we may have to run for it.
All I can do now is bluff. The defensive position is barely adequate, but I can let enough troops be seen, hopefully to convince them that I have thousands more hidden and prepared to counter them as we have always managed so far.
I must now call upon you to commit your men to becoming a part of my army here and temporarily abandon your detached status. I have heard how effective your unconventional tactics were in frustrating the cavalry. I now need you to repeat them in front of my army. It is essential that Marmont be persuaded that he needs every single one of his troops in order to attack us here. Let him but decide to wait until tomorrow and he shall find us gone.
There is another position twelve miles back over the frontier at Aldeia da Porte that we can reach overnight. There, I can hold out against anyone, unless they bring Boney himself.”
Welbeloved looked at his watch. “There are five hours before it gets dark, My Lord. From what MacKay tells me, the rest of the infantry should be at least two hours behind those fellows in front of us and they shall have needed an extra hour to get across the Agueda. I should be happy to wager that yor reputation alone shall stop Marmont risking an attack before the morning, but yew shall have four blocks of two hundred Hornets partly visible, wherever yew choose to place them. If it is possible, a battery of guns emplaced by each unit, may discourage the enemy from using us as target practice for their artillery.”
“Agreed, Sir Joshua! Shall you please attend to it?”
* * *
It was no accident or sudden whim that made Welbeloved suggest four blocks of Hornets. He had studied the defensive possibilities while the Hornets were absent and had satisfied himself that from the French view, there were only four feasible points of attack.
They all led up slopes to wide shelves of ground and then more rising ground. The slopes would be a hindrance, but not an impossible task to cavalry. Infantry would be at a disadvantage against determined resistance, although the ascent was nowhere near as long and steep as at Buçaco.
Wellington provided eight twelve pounders and they were emplaced in the middle of each line of mounted Hornets. Welbeloved quite approved of the industry shown by the gunners. They had used stones and rocks to build low walls in front of their guns. These provided a modicum of protection against incoming shot, but more importantly, they identified obvious defensive positions that would embellish the perceived strength of the position.
Only half of the Hornets were in line, standing with their horses. They would not mount them until there was aggressive enemy activity to be seen, at which time the dismounted Hornets would come forward to take up their positions. Each half had arranged to change duties with the other, every hour until dark.
Welbeloved, MacKay and Gonçalves were walking their horses slowly from one block to the other, chatting, but mostly listening to comments from the men, between each other and respectful backchat to their officers.
Half a mile away, the French were deploying in some numbers. Welbeloved fished his field telescope out of his capacious pocket and trained it on a large group of splendidly uniformed riders, just moving to a position from where they could examine the army in place before them.
Judging by the amount of braid, gold lace and plumed headgear, it could only be a gathering of generals and their gorgeously dressed staff officers. He mused briefly on a suitable collective noun for a collection of generals, particularly French ones. A flamboyance, perhaps? Or even a ubiquity as there were so many of them all about?
However, if those were the generals directing this particular enterprise, maybe even Marshal Marmont himself, they would be looking for some signs of opposition. He pulled out his whistle and blew a series of blasts.
Suddenly, there were groups of mounted horsemen in dull uniforms, clustered about the gun emplacements. French telescopes could be seen focusing on this display.
His glass showed one of the more flamboyant figures dismounting and using a large telescope, resting across the back of one of the aides. Momentarily it seemed to be pointing directly at him and he couldn’t resist the urge to raise his bonnet in ironic salute. There was no reaction, but it looked as if a heated argument was in progress, with a great deal of gesticulating.
“Let the men relax again, Gentlemen. We seem to have made some impression on the top man. All we have to do now is wait and see if he fancies a fight or is going to hold on for the rest of his infantry.”
They waited until an hour before sundown, when Welbeloved went to look for his commander-in-chief. “I am beginning to suspect that the French are opting for prudence every time they find yew on the defensive and have no idea how many men yew have hidden, My Lord.”
“I does appear so, Sir Joshua and for once I am mightily relieved. It was Marmont himself down there and I am told that General Dorsenne was with him. I did not think he should be so shy, but it may be a good omen for if and when we meet in the future and our forces are more evenly matched.
I have started the army on the way to Aldeia and a better position. Oblige me by keeping watch and advise me how his army is constituted, should he offer to follow me tomorrow.”
* * *
In the morning, Wellington’s army had taken itself to new and better positions over the Portuguese frontier. Welbeloved had maintained a watch all night, only to find that the French too had gone away. He set Paul Davison and Percy Tonks with their companies to find out where they had gone and took the rest of his men back to Wellington and the army.
The French had gone back only as far as Ciudad Rodrigo and settled down almost exactly as they had been only three days before. C and D Companies moved back into their old camps, sent messages back to Welbeloved and settled themselves to watch for any movement to the northwest or southwest.
Nothing went out from Rodrigo all the next day, but Percy Tonks was somewhat put out when his men reported a couple of cavalry patrols returning from the southwest. He hadn’t seen them going out and guessed that they had lingered to report on movements of Wellington’s army. What concerned him most was that if they had been about when C and D Companies had followed the retreating French, they certainly hadn’t been spotted. Spotting enemy patrols was a skill that the Hornets took particular pride in.
What really horrified him was the thought that the Hornets themselves might have been observed without realising it. It was part of their tradition that they were always aware of everything happening for a considerable distance around them. He could not bring himself to believe that the Hornets could have been observed closely. Perhaps from a height a mile or so away, that would have enabled the watchers to move well out of range. That had to be the answer unless the patrols had been completely out of sight.
Neither of the patrols had taken any particular care on their return that would indicate that they were in any way concerned about being intercepted. Maybe the Hornets and the French patrols had never been close enough for either of them to know about it?
He was annoyed with himself for his own arrogance that had blithely assumed that they couldn’t have been there. They had been seen on their return, but far too late for the Hornets to intercept them. That meant that Marmont would now know that Wellington had moved away and by logical deduction, that the British really had not wa
nted to fight at Fuenteguinaldo.
No one likes to be fooled. If you are a marshal of France, you must absolutely hate it. Percy thoughtfully sent a message to Paul Davison, who joined him with his men before midnight. His reaction was even more incredulous than Tonks’s. They were up before dawn, looking to see what Marmont’s reaction would be.
They didn’t have to wait until dawn. French bugles were sounding the stand-to before sun-up. Fires sprang to life. Food was going into French stomachs in readiness for marching out as soon as they could see where to put their feet.
Tonks pulled rank. He had been a senior lieutenant before they both became captains. Davison got C Company ready to move off as soon as they had some idea about the force that Marmont was sending. Tonks would wait until the advance guard was almost on him before leaving and if they were still in any doubt, Sergeant Major Evans would stay until he could be sure and then make his way back through the enemy advance units.
* * *
Lord Wellington had quite recovered his calm and detached temperament. He listened carefully to everything Davison had to report and nodded at Welbeloved. “I wondered if Marmont might chance his hand again, Sir Joshua. It don’t really signify, you know. If he was shy before, when he had an advantage of four to one, he shall now find us in a much stronger position where we can fight him to a standstill, no matter how many men he brings.
My errant divisions have closed up, giving me another ten thousand men. Of course he cannot know that and we could have a repeat of the situation where we bluffed them south of Badajoz. Shall you care to put your mind to receiving their cavalry reconnaissance in the same style?”
Welbeloved grinned. “I have again looked over yor defences, My Lord, in case yew asked such a question.”
Wellington smiled thinly back. “Aye, I thought you might. What is your view?”
“I think it simpler here than at Badajoz. There is only one line of attack that is worth considering and the approach to that shall bring them up onto a plateau that reminds me of a giant arena. I can think of ways to frustrate a cavalry reconnaissance in strength, but should not like to argue long with several thousand line infantry.”
I Think I Really Do Have an Ulcer Page 7
