At this tense moment, Lord Uxbridge led up Ponsonby’s Union Brigade and Somerset’s cavalry. Crashing into the left flank of Donzelot’s column, Somerset’s cavalry first routed Travers’s cuirassiers and then plunged on into the stunned and confused masses of French infantry beyond. At the same moment, Ponsonby led his troopers into the very midst of Marcognet’s columns. Negotiating the difficult sunken road, the Scots Greys charged into action. “All of us were greatly excited,” recalled Corporal John Dickson, “and began crying, ‘Hurrah, Ninety-Second! Scotland forever!’” It so happened that their advance took them through the 92nd Highlanders, whose blood was also fully up, and many of the kilted infantry grabbed hold of the horses’ stirrups and were borne along into the fray. There was no withstanding such pressure. Although the French infantry “fought like tigers” they were inexorably swept back. Many men were cut down, more than 3,000 forced to surrender, and both the 45th and the 105th Regiments lost their coveted eagles, the first being captured by Sergeant Charles Ewart of the Scots Greys, the latter by an officer and corporal of the Royal Regiment of Dragoons. Very soon, two thirds of d’Erlon’s shattered men were running down the slope in complete disarray.
Napoleon’s first massive attack had thus been repulsed—but there was still an epilogue to be played out to this phase of the battle. Overexcited by their success,, the British cavalry failed to rein in and re-form, but plunged on across the valley toward the massed French battery. Although the guns were reached and many artillerymen sabered, this charge was extremely foolhardy. Napoleon judged the moment with customary nicety, and then launched a strong force of fresh lancers and cuirassiers against the weary and disordered ranks of British cavalry. Ponsonby was first captured and then killed—no less than 1,000 of his officers and troopers out of 2,500 horsemen who took part in the charge shared his fate before Vandeleur could move up to extricate the survivors; as a result, the Union Brigade ceased to exist as an operational entity. Brigadier Somerset similarly followed up Travers’s rout somewhat imprudently, but escaped with lighter casualties.
So ended the second phase of the Battle of Waterloo. Wellington could congratulate himself on routing d’Erlon’s poorly coordinated and ill-organized attack for a loss of some 4,000 infantry, but through the cavalry’s rashness a further 2,500 Allied horsemen had been laid low, a large proportion of his total cavalry strength.
Nevertheless, invaluable time had been gained, and the Prussians were drawing closer. During the lull that developed everywhere except around Hougoumont shortly after three o’clock, Wellington reinforced the gallant garrison of La Haie Sainte, reoccupied the gravelpit, and brought up Lambert’s brigade into line from reserve. Sir John Kempt also assumed command over Picton’s bereaved division, while on the far left Prince Bernhard successfully recovered control of the village of Papelotte.
Meanwhile, Napoleon was becoming increasingly anxious. Shortly before three o’clock, the arrival of Grouchy’s 11:30
A.M. dispatch—and the positioning of the French right wing which it revealed—proved once and for all that there was no hope of Grouchy reaching Waterloo. Napoleon could now either call off the battle, or fling everything against Wellington in the hope of destroying him before Prussian assistance became effective. There was little doubt which course he would pursue; at 3:30
P.M., Marshal Ney received a categorical order to take La Haie Sainte, no matter at what price, and the Guard was moved some small way forward to occupy VIth Corps’ vacated area, ready to exploit Ney’s anticipated breakthrough.
The French cannonade reintensified, and forward went Ney at the head of two brigades of Ist Corps—the only troops of d’Erlon’s which had so far rallied. The assault failed; but before he retreated from the crest, Ney noticed signs of Allied troops falling back towards Brussels from the rear of Wellington’s center. This disturbance was in fact occasioned by a panic by one small unit of Allied cavalry, the movement of ambulances, empty ammunition wagons, and a long column of Allied wounded limping toward the rear, but to Ney’s overheated brain they seemed to reveal that Wellington was beginning to retreat. Without reference to the Emperor, Ney—“carried away by an excess of ardor”49—at once ordered up a brigade of Milhaud’s cuirassiers hoping to convert the apparent Allied retreat into a full-scale rout without further delay.
In the excitement the scale of the cavalry attack escalated out of all proportion. First General Delort’s division was drawn in—and then the entire cuirassier corps was on the move. Next Lefebvre-Desnouëttes, on his own initiative, ordered his light horsemen to follow the heavy cavalry, and by 4:00
P.M. no less than 5,000 French cavalry were pounding up the slope towards the center of the Allied line. This direction of attack was itself an error, for part of the Grand Battery, newly resited to the west of the Brussels highway, was forced to cease fire, whereas to the east of the road a shallow protective valley would have shielded the advance. The third tactical blunder of the day was in the process of being committed—for the cavalry advanced without any artillery or infantry support, and once again the principle of proper coordination was being thrown to the winds. Moreover, the front of the charge was narrowed by the need to give both Hougoumont and La Haie Sainte a wide berth, while the sodden nature of the ground reduced the speed of the advance to a slow trot. The cavalry certainly should not have been launched prior to the capture of La Haie Sainte.
With no French infantry or well-sited batteries to hinder them, the British front transformed itself into a series of 20 squares (or rather rectangles, for the front and rear sides of these formations were considerably longer than their sides). To the front of and in between these squares stood Wellington’s field guns, presented with an unforgettable target. Wellington had ordered that the gunners should man their pieces until the very last moment, and then run for cover within the neighboring squares while the fury of the French cavalry attack expended itself vainly around the hedge of bayonets and temporarily abandoned cannon. The artillerymen were then to emerge as the French recoiled and reopen fire against their retreating backs. Although this tactic was employed with considerable success at most points of the line, it is open to criticism. Captain Mercer, for instance, judged that the shaken Brunswick battalions adjoining his position would have turned and run the moment they saw the British gunners of “G” Troop, Royal Horse Artillery, abandon their pieces. Accordingly he disobeyed Wellington’s directive and kept his men in action. Providing there were infantry squares to guard its flanks within fifty yards on each side, an artillery battery, double-shotted,* could theoretically keep a front of 100 yards clear, and if a few spurring troopers reached the cannon, the men could always shelter beneath their pieces, where they would make poor targets for the enemy’s sabers.
The approach of the French cavalry was an impressive sight. As Ensign Gronow of the Ist Foot Guards recalled:
Not a man present who survived could have forgotten in after life the awful grandeur of that charge. You perceived at a distance what appeared to be an overwhelming, long moving line, which, ever advancing, glittered like a stormy wave of the sea when it catches the sunlight. On came the mounted host until they got near enough, while the very earth seemed to vibrate beneath their thundering tramp. One might have supposed that nothing could have resisted the shock of this terrible moving mass. They were the famous cuirassiers, almost all old soldiers who had distinguished themselves on most of the battlefields of Europe. In an almost incredibly short period they were within 20 yards of us, shouting “Vive l’Empereur !” The word of command, “Prepare to receive cavalry,” had been given, every man in the front rank knelt, and a wall bristling with steel, held together by steady hands, presented itself to the enfuriated cuirassiers.50
Vainly the shouting and lunging horsemen wheeled around the fire-fringed squares; more and more horses and riders crashed down, and the fury of the assault slowly expended itself. Although whole batteries of abandoned cannon were in French hands for minutes at a time, no p
rovision had been made for spiking them, and the troopers did not even think to destroy the sponge-staves and rammers. The absence of French horse artillery in close support also meant that the British squares were not subjected to a murderous point-blank fire during the brief lulls between charges. All in all, this assault was as badly planned and handled as d’Erlon’s earlier offensive. Consequently, the horsemen’s bravery availed them little. “The French cavalry made some of the boldest charges I ever saw: they sounded [tested] the whole extent of our line …” wrote Colonel Frazer. “Never did cavalry behave so nobly, or was received by infantry so firmly.”51
At the critical moment, Lord Uxbridge launched several brigades of cavalry against the tiring French horsemen, flinging them back in chaos. However, no sooner were they at the foot of the slope than the officers reformed their blown squadrons and walked them forward again in a renewed attack. Again the effort was in vain—the massed fire of the Allied batteries broke up this attack before it even reached the corpse-strewn crest. Nevertheless some of the squares received a rough handling. “During the battle our squares presented a shocking sight,” continued Ensign Gronow. “Inside we were nearly suffocated by the smoke and smell from burned cartridges. It was impossible to move a yard without treading upon a wounded comrade, or upon the bodies of the dead, and the loud groans of our wounded and dying was most appalling.”52 But the “Iron Duke” was always close to the point of maximum crisis, exhorting and calming his men, sheltering within the nearest square when danger came close.
The Battle of Waterloo, June 18, 1815: the later phases, 3 p.m. to 7:30 p.m.
Napoleon, meantime, had been a helpless spectator of this unauthorized cavalry attack. His anger mounted. “This is a premature movement which may well lead to fatal results,” he snapped. “He [Ney] is compromising us as he did at Jena.”53 He was also becoming increasingly aware of activity on his eastern flank, for at 4:00
P.M. Bülow at last emerged from the Paris Wood to engage Domon’s cavalry and Lobau’s infantry. Although outnumbered by three to one, the French VIth Corps swept forward into the attack, but its effort was soon expended, and by five o’clock Lobau had been compelled to fall back on Plancenoit. Nor was this all: the Prussians at once launched an assault on three sides of the village and successfully stormed it. Their cannon-balls now began to whistle threateningly over the Charleroi road. Napoleon could hardly ignore this danger to his line of retreat, and promptly ordered General Duhesme to take his Young Guard Division and recapture Plancenoit while Lobau strengthened his overall position by linking up with the right of Ist Corps under cover of the Guard attack.
Ney also needed the Emperor’s attention. To extricate his impetuous subordinate, Napoleon had no alternative but to order forward Flahaut’s and Kellermann’s cavalry. Kellermann asked for confirmation of these orders, but before Napoleon could reiterate his intention, the divisional generals of Kellermann’s corps had taken the law into their own hands and advanced. Once again, the prevailing air of excitement proved too much for the remaining French cavalry in the vicinity, and General Guyot also led forward the remainder of the Guard Cavalry. Thus by five o’clock Napoleon had no formed cavalry reserve left, and between nine and ten thousand horsemen were pounding once more towards the smoke-grimed British line on a front of 500 yards.
This second series of cavalry charges, almost as unsupported as the first, were repulsed in their turn. However, Wellington’s squares only just survived the crisis and by the time this phase of the action was over most of the British cavalry had been expended, while the last infantry reserves had also been brought into line. Ney—who had his fourth horse of the day killed under him at this juncture—made several local gains, but proved unable to hold on to them. The single battery of horse artillery which accompanied this attack wrought havoc with the British line from 400 yards range, but was incapable of doing irreparable harm on its own. So once again the French cavalry, after eight determined charges, was forced to fall back through lack of support. And yet there was plenty of French infantry available to support Ney’s move—6,000 men of Reille’s corps, who had hardly fired a shot all day, were conveniently placed to join in the struggle. But it was only at 6:00
P.M. when the cavalry was a spent force that the Prince of the Moskowa remembered Reille’s one and a half fresh divisions and led them forward. Foy and Bachelu did their best, but the men could not withstand the hail of fire from the British guns, and after losing 1,500 men in ten minutes, they too in their turn recoiled.
Following this new setback, Napoleon rode up and down the line of his tiring men, examining Wellington’s positions. Once again he realized how vital was the position of La Haie Sainte, and ordered Ney to renew the attack upon it. Shortly after six o’clock, the “bravest of the brave” again advanced to the attack with part of Donzelot’s division, some cavalry and a handful of guns. At last, Ney had resorted to the correct tactical formula—a coordinated attack by all arms—and his new effort was completely successful. The survivors of the King’s German Legion were hustled out of the farmhouse and adjoining buildings and the neighboring sandpit also fell into Ney’s hands. Without delay, the French marshal sited a battery only 300 yards from the English center and loosed upon it a devastating fire. Up through the smoke loomed the remnants of the other divisions of Ist Corps, and once again it appeared that success was within Ney’s grasp. The great crisis of the day had come for Wellington—his center was wavering—and Ney sent a series of urgent appeals to his Emperor for reserves with which to clinch the victory.
“Des troupes! Ou voulez-vous que J’en prenne? Voulez-vous que J’en fasse?”54* was the only response that Ney’s emissary. Colonel Heymes, could elicit from Napoleon. It was the moment of truth. Had the Emperor listened to his subordinate’s pleas and sent forward the Imperial Guard (or even half of it), the battle would almost certainly have been won. Nevertheless Napoleon had substantial reasons for refusing Ney’s request. In the first place he had no accurate idea of how pressed Wellington was at this juncture, and Ney’s many ill-considered acts and decisions over the preceding hours could hardly have led the Emperor to increase his trust in his subordinate’s judgment. Moreover, things were going from bad to worse on the eastern flank. The Young Guard, after driving the Prussians out of Planchenoit, was suddenly routed in its turn. With Ney clamoring for more troops to the north and Lobau and Duhesme calling for aid from the east, Napoleon had reason for careful thought. In final reserve there still stood eight untouched battalions of the Old Guard and six more belonging to the Middle Guard. Ney only needed six or seven of these to clinch the victory—or so he asserted—but the Emperor decided that the Prussian threat to his communications demanded first priority. Accordingly, eleven battalions were ordered off to the east to form a line of squares running from La Belle Alliance to Ronsommé, facing Plancenoit and serving as a buttress for the whole right flank. Generals Morand and Pelet were then sent off with two more—the Ist/2nd Grenadiers and the Ist/2nd Chasseurs—to retake Plancenoit with cold steel. The remaining Guard battalion was retained to protect headquarters at Le Caillou.
While Ney was clinging on to La Haie Sainte, watching his chances of victory diminish minute by minute, the Old Guard was adding further luster to its name at Plancenoit. Within twenty minutes, the village was in French hands, and no less than fourteen battalions of Prussians were in hasty retreat before the disciplined fury of a bayonet charge by two battalions of the Old Guard. The Young Guard returned to occupy Plancenoit but unfortunately the Old Guard battalions, pushing on a trifle too far beyond the village, were successfully counterattacked by Bülow and forced to withdraw. Nevertheless, by 6:45
P.M. the situation on Napoleon’s right flank had definitely been stabilized for the time being, and several battalions could be recalled into central reserve.
For Wellington, the crisis was still at its height. Ney’s battery was literally tearing a hole in the very center of his position: two brigades (Ompteda’s and
Kielmansegge’s) were already virtually annihilated. “Of such gravity did Wellington consider this great gap in the very center of his line of battle,” wrote Kennedy, “that he not only ordered the Brunswick troops there but put himself at their head, and it was even then with great difficulty that the ground could be held.”55
However, the chance of a decisive French victory was now passing rapidly As Wellington moved up troops from his right to plug the critical gap in his center, Baron Müffling was leading up the first troops of Ziethen’s corps to reinforce the Allied left. This he only succeeded in doing in the very nick of time. Ziethen had started his march from Wavre with Gneisnau’s blessing shortly after 2:00
P.M., and by six o’clock was through Genval and close to Ohain. However, misinformed by a junior officer that Wellington was already in retreat (in fact, like Ney earlier, this informant had seen Allied wounded moving to the rear), Ziethen decided to march south instead of west in order to support Bülow’s battle for Plancenoit, where the din of bombardment had reached a crescendo. Fortunately for Wellington General Muffling materialized at this very moment and persuaded Ziethen to keep to his original orders. Thus Prussian assistance was coming very close: soon they would reach Frischermont and be in a position to make their presence felt on Mont-St.-Jean.
The Campaigns of Napoleon Page 132
