Authors: Simon Scarrow
Fire and Sword (85 page)
‘Soult?’ Napoleon drew up and closed his eyes, visualising the disposition of his forces across Spain. Of all the major formations in his army, Soult’s was one of the weakest, comprising twelve thousand infantry and two thousand cavalry. It was tasked with policing the regions of Castille and León. In a moment Napoleon grasped the danger to which he had exposed Soult. His eyes flicked open and he turned to Berthier. ‘What else did General Dumas have to say?’
Berthier looked uneasy as he replied, ‘Dumas has taken it upon himself to divert forces to support Soult. I have told his staff officer to ride back and order Dumas to halt his movements pending approval from imperial headquarters. He is also to send patrols out to find the British army and confirm their position.’
Napoleon considered Berthier’s decisions for a moment and then shook his head.‘No. Cancel your orders. Dumas did the right thing.The British are more daring than I had thought. General Moore seeks to isolate and destroy Soult . . . Well then, we shall turn the tables on Moore. If we can move swiftly enough we can trap the British between Soult and the forces that are camped around Madrid.’ Napoleon smiled. ‘Imagine it, Berthier. The annihilation of Britain’s only field army.Their government would not survive such a catastrophe. This could be the very chance I have always sought to bring this war to an end!’
He clasped his hands together and nodded towards the division standing silently behind the two officers.‘Cancel the review. Send word to all divisional commanders to have their men ready to march at once. And have all my senior officers summoned to the palace. The fates are with us, Berthier.Within a month we will have caught and crushed the British army.’
Orders for the redirection of the campaign flowed out of imperial headquarters over the following two days.The day after the news of the British move had arrived, Marshal Ney’s corps was already on the march, climbing over the pass through the Guadarrama mountains to Villacastin. Napoleon remained in Madrid long enough to see his brother installed in the royal palace, protected by thirty-five thousand men under the command of Marshal Lefebvre. Joseph was left with strict instructions to ensure that the Madrid newspapers reported that the British army was trapped and would be crushed within weeks. Satisfied that he had set in motion a host of men to catch and trap the British, Napoleon set off from Madrid a day later.
Winter had set in with a vengeance as they approached the mountains, which were shrouded in a thick layer of snow. A biting cold wind was blasting down from the north and made the going tough even before the column reached the bottom of the route leading up into the pass. There they camped for the night, taking advantage of any shelter from the wind that they could find in peasant hovels and behind low walls and rocky outcrops. The men huddled round fires that flared and roared as they were discovered by stray blasts of the wind. It was almost impossible to sleep in the icy cold of the night, and before dawn thick flakes were borne down on the howling wind to swirl around the shivering men and horses of the French army.
As dawn broke faintly across the bleak landscape the men shook themselves free of the snow and prepared to climb up the slope to the pass. Napoleon watched as the infantry formed up in long shivering columns and the artillery train harnessed their horses to the limbers and caissons.The men were silent and any attempt at levity in the ranks died away almost as soon as it began. The dragoons of the Imperial Guard were the first to advance up the slope. Both men and mounts lowered their heads into the wind that howled down from the pass as they trudged forward. Napoleon had ridden a little way ahead and watched as the dragoons passed by with hardly a sound. The thick snow had deadened the sound of their progress and fresh flurries added to the drifts that had formed across the narrow winding track.They advanced slowly, and eventually the tail of the column disappeared into the snowstorm, as the first of the infantry battalions made ready to follow.
In less than an hour a messenger arrived from the commander of the dragoons. His breath burst from his lips in ragged puffs that were instantly ripped away by the wind as he reported to the Emperor.
‘Sire, the colonel begs to inform you that his men can go no further. The colonel has halted to await orders.’
‘Await orders? The colonel has his orders! Tell him to keep moving. I will not have my army held up because the colonel can’t bear a little cold.’
The messenger bowed his head, and then looked up nervously.‘I beg your pardon, sire, but my colonel is right. It is not possible to advance any further.’
‘And why not?’ Napoleon asked tersely. ‘Explain.’
‘Sire, the conditions up there are far worse than they are here. The wind is so strong that our horses can barely stay on their legs, while the riders are nearly being swept from their saddles when the gusts strike. Then there’s the ground, sire. There’s ice under the snow, and now the first squadron’s hooves have cleared the snow away the rest of the regiment are struggling to keep their footing.’
‘Excuses!’ Napoleon snapped. ‘You ride back and tell the colonel to keep advancing. I don’t care how strong the wind is, and I don’t care about the ice.You tell him I don’t care if he has to make his way across the pass on his belly, pulling his horse behind him. I don’t care what he says. It is possible. It will be done.You tell him.’
The messenger looked as if he was about to make a further protest, but there had been a dangerous tone in Napoleon’s voice, and he saluted instead. ‘Yes, sire.’
Once the dragoon had turned his horse back to the slope and was trotting it carefully through the thicker snow along the side of the track Napoleon nudged his spurs in and walked his own mount on to the slope. Followed by his escort he began the ascent. The horses and men who had already passed that way had packed the snow down, and stretches of the track were already compacted into sheets of ice that gleamed like marble. The iron-shod boots of the infantry had some purchase on the ground, but the horses began to slither dangerously as Napoleon and his party pressed on.
‘Clear the way there!’ a sergeant called out as he saw the imperial party struggle to pass by. The infantry moved stiffly to the sides of the track. Napoleon noticed that there were none of the usual cries of‘Long live the Emperor!’ as he rode through them. Instead, the men glared sullenly at him.
‘Someone shoot the devil!’ a voice called out when Napoleon had ridden by. He checked the impulse to turn round, and stared fixedly ahead. It would not do to try to find the man and punish him. It would only depress morale still further, and cause the advance to be delayed. Not one of the officers or sergeants amongst the infantry stirred at the man’s cry.The Emperor bit back on his anger and pretended not to have heard as he continued up the slope.
‘Will no one shoot him and put an end to this misery?’ the voice called out again. ‘You cowards!’
The track began to twist as the gradient of the slope increased, and Napoleon and his party came up with the battery of horse guns from the regiment of dragoons. They were stationary on the track, wheels wedged with rocks as the crews stood by and stamped their feet, hugging their arms about their chests, heads hunched down inside their greatcoats.At the head of the battery a team of horses was scrabbling for purchase on the icy surface, while men strained at the spokes of the wheels of a gun and limber. As Napoleon watched, they edged forward a few paces before one of the horses slipped and went down, dragging another with it. The limber and gun began to slither back down the track before a pair of sharp-witted gunners managed to slip some rocks behind the wheels and bring the transport to a sudden halt.
Napoleon reined in and called the commander of the battery over. He had to cup his hand to his mouth to make sure that his words were understood above the wind. ‘Captain, double your horse teams up.Take the first three guns to the top of the pass and then come back for the rest.’
‘Yes, sire.’ The captain saluted and turned away to carry out his orders.
Whilst the men of the battery began to harness additional horses to the first three guns, Napoleon realised that the rest of the wheeled vehicles travelling with the army would have to adopt the same procedure. Some of the heavier guns would even need three teams of horses to negotiate the track. With a sinking heart he realised that it would be impossible to clear the pass before sunset. He steered his horse round the men struggling with the leading gun and continued up the track, soon coming up with the rear of the column of dragoons. Now the wind was violently blasting down the hill. The riders had dismounted and were bent almost double as they drew their mounts on. As the imperial party reached the dragoons a sudden flurry of snow struck Napoleon a stinging blow in the face.The blizzard roared around him and he felt the horse buffeted back a pace by the force of the wind. Then it lost its footing and staggered to one side, scrabbling for purchase on the icy ground. As it began to pitch over Napoleon released the reins, kicked his feet free of the stirrups and hurled himself to the side. He plunged into a drift in front of a large boulder and fetched up hard against the rocky surface, driving the air from his lungs.
‘Sire!’ the commander of the escort called out in alarm, dropping from his saddle and running through the snow towards him. Napoleon was gasping for breath and could not reply immediately as the officer leaned over him with a concerned expression. ‘Sire, are you injured? Do you need the surgeon?’
Napoleon shook his head and struggled out of the snowdrift, his grey coat caked in snow. His hat, which he had jammed on to his head earlier, was still there, and as he swept the snow from his coat his breath gradually returned to him. ‘I’m all right. But we’ll have to continue on foot from here.’
One of the escort took the reins of Napoleon’s horse and they trudged on, up the slope, passing stragglers from the dragoons. One man stood over his mount, which he had shot after it fell and broke a leg, busy stripping the horse of the saddlebags and anything else that could be carried away, and he did not look up the Emperor passed by, a few paces away.
Napoleon did not reach the pass until after midday, hours later than he had intended. Conditions there were as bad as they could be. The wind was now so strong that men were having to link arms to stay on their feet.Thick snow blanketed the ground and the combination of the altitude and the icy blizzard had driven the temperature down to well below freezing.The men’s exhaled breath froze into tiny crystals on the front of the mufflers they had pulled up to protect their faces. The colonel of the dragoons was waiting there to urge his men on. He saluted as Napoleon shuffled through the snow towards him.
‘Sire.’
Napoleon nodded a greeting and grasped the man’s shoulder as he cupped his other hand to his mouth. ‘Tough work, Colonel! How are your men faring?’
‘Most have gone through the pass, sire. I’m just waiting here to send the last of them on their way. I’ve ordered the regiment to form up at the bottom of the slope.’
‘Good.You’d better join them.’
‘Yes, sire.’The colonel nodded and Napoleon released his grip.
The pass was a dreadful place under such conditions, and despite his layers of clothing and thick gloves Napoleon could feel his hands and feet beginning to grow numb. Leaving orders for some of his escort to stay behind and urge the rest of the army through the pass, Napoleon carried on, picking his way carefully down the far slope. He passed several more dead horses, and one dragoon who had been crushed when his horse had fallen on him. Already the snow had heaped up around the bodies and they would soon disappear beneath the mantle of white, there to remain until the spring thaw revealed their pitiful remains.
It took the rest of the day and through the night for the army to negotiate the pass and stumble into the town of Villacastin on the far side of the Guadarrama range. But there was little chance to rest the exhausted soldiers. Reports reached Napoleon that General Moore had begun to retreat to the north. A deadly race was on.The British seemed to be making for the port of Corunna where, no doubt, their navy would be waiting to evacuate them. But if Soult was still in a position to block their retreat then General Moore and his men were trapped and would be crushed. Napoleon took warm satisfaction from this chance to humiliate his oldest enemy. Such a catastrophe would rock Britain to its foundations and they would never dare to attempt another campaign in Europe on such a scale again.
So the Emperor drove his men on, often leading the pursuit at the head of a squadron of Guard cavalry as the army sped north.They began to pass the bodies of the first of the enemy’s stragglers, cut down by the pursuing French cavalry.Then came the wagons, lying abandoned at the side of the road. Napoleon rode through towns and villages which had been looted by the British as their discipline began to fail. Some of the redcoats had been so drunk or exhausted that they could not continue and simply sat in the streets waiting to be taken prisoner. But the British were not the only enemies facing the French.
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