The light infantry regiments were organized on identical lines to those of the line, although the nomenclature of the different units varied; thus a light infantry battalion on the 1808 establishment had one carabinier company (the equivalent to line grenadiers), four chasseur (fusilier) companies and one of voltigeurs (or skirmishers). Over the years there also sprang up a number of special infantry units that fell outside the usual organization and were accordingly called by different titles. Thus foreign units were habitually termed “legions,” while embodied units of the National Guard were divided into “cohorts” for purposes of administrative convenience.
The weapons of the French infantry were not of particularly high quality. The firearms were invariably muzzle-loading, smooth-bore flintlocks, capable of mass production thanks to the new industrial technique developed by the expert Blanc. The French used coarse black powder as propellant, which resulted in excessive fouling of the barrels and a general obscuring of the battle scene with clouds of dense smoke. Exposure to undue damp soon placed these weapons out of action. Each man carried into action fifty cartridges (the balls weighing four-fifths of an ounce apiece, the powder-charge being 12.5 grammes) and three spare flints.
The standard small arm was the Charleville “1777” musket, a weapon of .70 caliber, measuring one meter 57 centimeters—or approximately 50 inches—(without bayonet), which remained in the French service until the 1830s. For all its longevity, it had severe practical limitations. Its maximum range was officially over 1,000 meters, but it was almost useless against even large bodies of formed troops at more than 250, while for use against individual enemies a range of less than 100 yards was advisable. Excessive fouling occasioned by the coarse powder meant that the barrel required washing after every 50 rounds, while the flint needed changing after ten or twelve discharges. Misfires were experienced on an average of once out of every six shots, and in the din and heat of battle this could often lead to doubleloading with unfortunate results to both weapon and firer. Reloading required five separate evolutions: first the soldier took a paper cartridge from his pouch and bit off the end containing the ball, which he retained in his mouth; next he opened the “pan” of his musket, poured in a priming charge, closed it and ordered arms; thirdly, he tipped the remainder of the powder down the barrel, spat the musket ball after it, folded the paper into a wad, and then forced both ball and wad down the barrel onto the powder charge with his ramrod; finally, he brought the musket up to the present, took aim and fired. This loading system was open to many oversights and abuses. An inexperienced recruit might easily double-load after an unnoticed misfire, or forget to withdraw his ramrod before pulling the trigger; similarly, a clumsy or malingering fantassin could easily contrive to spill most of the powder charge onto the ground and thus avoid the shoulder-dislocating kick of the weapon.
It has been claimed that an expert marksman could loose off as many as five shots in 60 seconds under favorable circumstances, but once the barrel became fouled this rate dropped to four rounds in three minutes. Probably one or two rounds a minute was the average rate of fire. The French very often neglected musketry practice; this was partly due to a desire to conserve ammunition, partly to avoid the probability of casualties caused by burst barrels or idle practice, and not a little to the conviction of many senior commanders that it was the task of the gunners to inflict casualties through fire upon the enemy rather than that of the infantry, whose true métier was to follow up with the bayonet to exploit the gaps in the hostile formations so caused. The proven unreliability of the “1777” firearm greatly reinforced the arguments of this school, and it became the exception for the ordinary soldier to attain a high degree of proficiency with the weapon.
At the very best the musket was an inaccurate weapon. Toward the close of the eighteenth-century, the Prussian army conducted some field firing experiments with their own musket which differed little from its French counterpart in terms of accuracy. After setting up a canvas target 100 feet long by 6 feet high to simulate an enemy unit, they drew up a battalion of line infantry at varying ranges and ordered the men to fire a volley. At 225 yards distance, only 25 per cent of the shots fired hit the target; at 150 yards the proportion was 40 per cent; at 75 yards, 60 per cent of the shots told. It would appear therefore that the number of casualties caused by deliberately aimed rounds fired at normal range were comparatively slight; most troops were killed or wounded by artillery fire or “casual” bullets. However, when fire was held until the troops could literally see “the whites of the enemy’s eyes”—say 50 yards—horrific casualties could result, often as many as 50 per cent of a unit’s personnel—or even more. Thus at Austerlitz the 36th Regiment lost 220 out of 230 of its grenadiers, while at Auerstadt (1806) Gudin’s division lost no less than 124 officers and 3,500 men killed and wounded out of a total of 5,000 men committed to action.
Little wonder, then, that many French experts advocated shock-action with the bayonet rather than fire-action with powder and ball in the hope of avoiding such crippling casualties in a straightforward stand-up fire fight. Every French infantryman was armed with a 15-inch triangular-shaped socket bayonet. The real effectiveness of this sidearm is also open to doubt, however. It would seem from the result of researches conducted by Surgeon General Larrey that the havoc wrought by “cold steel” was more moral than material; after studying the casualties—French and Austrian—in two separate units that had been engaged in a hand-to-hand mélée, he could discover only five wounds directly attributable to the bayonet, whereas wounds inflicted by bullets during the same actions numbered 119.21 As a general rule, therefore, it was fear of the bayonet rather than its actual application that caused units to turn and flee. Perhaps this was all for the best, for the quality of the French bayonet was far from good; we know, for instance, that after the Battle of the Pyramids in 1798 the French infantry found little difficulty in bending their bayonets into hooks for the purpose of fishing the corpses of richly clad Mamelukes out of the Nile.* This was hardly a dependable weapon therefore, and many classes of infantry carried swords for additional personal protection.
French tactical formations: column of divisions
In the place of the Charleville musket, a few rifled carbines were carried by certain soldiers, mostly officers and NCOs of the voltigeur companies. It was a lighter weapon of smaller caliber, but the rifling made the bore extremely tight, and to drive the ball home an iron mallet had to be employed on the ramrod. The French were less impressed with this type of weapon than their British and Prussian contemporaries, who armed a considerable proportion of their light infantry with rifled muskets. Another type of firearm occasionally issued to the French infantry for counterinsurgency or antiguerilla operations was a bell-mouthed blunderbuss, loaded with a handful of loose powder and whatever hard objects were readily available. However, the vast majority of soldiers used the “1777” musket.
At first the infantry tactics varied little from those of the revolutionary forces in whose ranks most of the officers, including Napoleon Bonaparte himself, had learned so much of their trade. L’ordre mixte and attacks in battalion column were commonly employed. Dense clouds of skirmishers—sometimes whole regiments were employed in this role—would engage and harass the enemy formations while the columns of attack drew near, bayonets at the ready. If the morale of the attacking troops left something to be desired, the élite grenadier company would often be placed in rear of the battalion columns to force their comrades forward; if, on the other hand, the esprit de corps was high, they would lead the right of the attack. Normally, the battalion formed up for the attack in “column of division” (in other words, a two-company frontage—see diagram), every company being drawn up in three ranks with about a yard between them. Thus at the beginning of an attack, a battalion column (consisting of four “divisions” or eight companies) would cover a front of 50 yards and a depth of approximately 21 yards (12 ranks). In later years, when the battalions were reduced to six larger compan
ies, a battalion column would contain only three “divisions,” thus reducing its depth to 15 yards (9 ranks) and at the same time broadening its frontage to 75 yards. As the voltigeur company would usually be serving as a sharpshooter screen ahead of the rest, a straightforward “column of companies” was often resorted to, especially when negotiating a narrow defile.
French tactical formations (continued): l’ordre mixte
A large-scale attack would be mounted by a whole series of battalion columns in line or echelon. The interval between each individual column was at least 150 yards—this space being needed to enable the column to deploy into line for fire-action if required and at the same time permitting the skirmishing screen to fall back through the intervals without having to cease fire; for it was very important that the harassment of the enemy’s formations by the skirmishers should continue until the actual moment of contact so as to distract a proportion of their fire and prevent the deliberate concentration of every musket against the advancing columns, which were very exposed during the last stages of their advance.
If there were sufficient troops available, the French would often draw up their battalion columns in two checkerboard lines, placing the second line far enough back to be outside effective musketry range and with sufficient intervals to permit the cavalry and guns to weave their way toward the front or the flank. Such a tactical system was highly flexible and was governed by no hard and fast rules; each operation was uniquely planned according to the nature of the ground to be covered and the type of mission to be fulfilled. Thus at Austerlitz, St. Hilaire’s division attacked the Pratzen Heights behind the customary skirmisher screen in two “broad arrow” brigade formations in order to exploit the possibilities offered by adjacent gullies running parallel to the line of advance.
Although he rarely intervened in tactical matters, Napoleon clearly favored l’ordre mixte formation. It was ideally adapted for the exploitation of success, the assumption of the defensive or an abrupt change of front; in other words it could perform almost any role with a minimum of delay. Various adaptations of l’ordre mixte were evolved to counter the solidarity of the Russian infantry, the most notable being the formation of a division with linked brigades, which produced a maximum degree of firepower for defense and yet srill retained sufficient depth for an immediate attacking role. The great advantages of column formation were that it permitted great mobility and boundless flexibility; a unit could advance to the attack, form square to repel cavalry,* or adopt the tactical defensive in l’ordre mixte with a minimum of delay and confusion. Above all there were no time-wasting delays to check the alignment of the ranks, which always bedeviled troops advancing in the old type of formal linear formations. Perhaps a perfect example of the adaptability of the system was the handling of Morand’s division at the height of the battle of Auerstadt (1806); within a short space of time it was put through five separate evolutions to meet changing situations, but not for one minute was the pressure against the Prussians even slackened.
In later years, as the quality of the French infantry deteriorated, their generals had occasional recourse to huge, divisional squares and columns (as used by Macdonald on the second day at Wagram and by d’Erlon in the first attack at Waterloo—on both occasions with scant success),† but these vast formations presented an unforgettable target to artillerymen and infantry alike and were far too bulky to move with ease.
French tactical formations (continued): St. Hilaire’s formation at Austerlitz
However, even the perfected system of battalion column could go wrong, and even at its prime the French attack had serious drawbacks which a determined and cunning adversary could exploit. At the outset of the advance, the ranks would tend to open out, as the individual soldiers sought sufficient elbowroom, but as the column approached its target, the reverse became the case. The men would tend to crowd in upon one another until ranks became disordered and cohesion began to disappear—as Guibert had prophesied long before. General Bugeaud has left a vivid description of the limitations of over-hasty attacks in column against troops drawn up in line as experienced during the Peninsular War:
The English generally occupied well-chosen defensive positions having a certain command, and they showed only a portion of their forces. The usual artillery action first took place. Soon, in great haste, without studying the position, without taking time to examine whether there were means to make a flank attack, we marched straight on, taking the bull by the horns. About 1,000 yards from the English line the men became excited, called out to one another, and hastened their march; the column began to become a little confused. The English remained quite silent with ordered arms, and from their steadiness appeared to be a long red wall. This steadiness invariably produced an effect on our young soldiers. Very soon we got nearer, crying “Vive l’Empereur ! En avant! A la Baionnette!” Shakos were raised on the muzzles of muskets; the column began to double, the ranks got into confusion, the agitation produced a tumult; shots were fired as we advanced. The English line remained silent, still and immovable, with ordered arms, even when we were only 300 yards distant, and it appeared to ignore the storm about to break. The contrast was striking; in our innermost thoughts we all felt the enemy was a long time in firing, and that this fire, reserved so long, would be very unpleasant when it came. Our ardor cooled. The moral power of steadiness, which nothing can shake (even if it be only appearance), over disorder which stupefies itself with noise, overcame our minds. At this moment of intense excitement, the English wall shouldered arms; an indescribable feeling would root many of our men to the spot; they began to fire. The enemy’s steady, concentrated volleys swept our ranks; decimated, we turned round seeking to recover our equilibrium; then three deafening cheers broke the silence of our opponents; at the third they were on us, pushing our disorganized flight.22
It was axiomatic that the columns were intended to deploy into line before delivering their final attack—and yet this was neglected on a number of critical occasions with unfortunate results. Some commentators, led by the great historians Oman and Fortescue, have argued that this failure to deploy was intentional; that the French commanders, brought up in the revolutionary tradition when the rawness of the troops made any complex evolution out of the question, purposely attacked right home in column, hoping to crash a way through the opposition by a combination of sheer weight and psychological advantage (the appearance of a column advancing at the charge being sufficient to instil fear in the bravest heart). However, this school of thought has been convincingly challenged by Commandant Colin and Hilaire Belloc. They claim that the French attempted to launch their final attacks in column by error and not design. Many existing battle orders mention the need for deployment before making physical contact with the foe, and the fact is that the French columns habitually attempted to carry out these instructions, but often delayed the final evolution until it was too late.
French tactical formations (continued): Desaix’s attack formation at Marengo (Inset) Morand’s Divisional Formation at Borodino
Most of the system’s failures were experienced when fighting Wellington; he had discovered the perfect countertactic to the French method. By keeping the bulk of his men concealed behind reverse slopes, he not only protected them from the worst attentions of the French artillery and skirmishers (he also habitually pushed swarms of light infantry onto the forward slopes to keep the latter at bay), but also upset the calculations of the officers commanding the French attacking columns. Unable to locate the exact position of their adversaries, they tended to retain their troops in column until they reached the crest, and then it was too late; for, just below the top of the ridge “silent and impressive, with ported arms, loomed a long red wall,” and before the French could deploy or charge, raking vollies—often directed from three sides at once—would obliterate the head of the column and send the survivors reeling back along their tracks or at least halt them in stupefied confusion.23 This is what happened to some units of the Imperial Gua
rd in the final phase at Waterloo: the famous grenadiers, after advancing along an incorrect line of approach, came upon Wellington’s waiting battalions before they expected to do so, and although they immediately attempted to deploy they received such a riddling fire from three sides that they proved incapable of completing the evolution, and were soon decimated and sent back in headlong retreat.
Nevertheless, the fact that the system could be countered should not be allowed to disguise the fact that it brought the French ten years of almost unbroken victory on the field of battle. The fluidity, aggressiveness, élan and mobility of the French infantry proved too much for a succession of Austrian, Prussian, Spanish, Russian and Neapolitan armies. Properly applied, it held the secret of tactical success against opponents committed to rigid concepts of linear tactics; only when improperly executed—or when faced by the tactical genius of Wellington and the proverbial coolness of his British troops—did the system fail and lead to disaster.
French tactical formations (continued): massive columns as used at Wagram and Waterloo
Passing on from the infantry to the cavalry, we come across the one arm of the Revolutionary Armies which was a patent disgrace, and which needed the greatest amount of careful attention before it could be brought up to a sufficiently high standard to enable it to face its European counterparts with any reasonable chance of success. Napoleon was determined to organize his cavalry on a rational basis, and fully appreciated its significance. “Cavalry is useful before, during and after the battle,”24 he wrote on one occasion. “General Lloyd asks what is the use of large amounts of cavalry. I say that it is impossible to fight anything but a defensive war, based on field fortification and natural obstacles, unless one has practically achieved parity with the enemy cavalry; for if you lose a battle, your army will be lost.”25 He was also quite clear about the qualities required by a successful mounted arm: “Cavalry needs audacity and practice; above all it must not be dominated by the spirit of conservatism or avarice.”26 He saw that success could only be achieved through a combination of speed, shock, good order, carefully maintained formations and the correct use of reserves; but of all these requirements he placed discipline first.
The Campaigns of Napoleon Page 45
