The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon - Страница 71

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He rode on, angling down the slope until he emerged from a vale and out on to the dusty plain behind the hills. Ahead of him was a column of redcoats, and a regiment of Portuguese dragoons, tramping south along the Salamanca road and kicking up a cloud of dust as they took up their position to cover the flank. He saw the colours of the division’s battalions marching in a cluster behind a small group of horsemen. At their head was the tall, elegant figure of their general. Arthur urged his horse on, and approached the column fast, hooves pounding over the hard, dry ground beneath him. Faces turned towards him as he approached and he heard a voice cry out, ‘It’s our Arty!’ A cheer sounded from some of the men, but they were too tired and too thirsty for any more. He slowed the horse as he reached the divisional staff officers and then reined in behind his brother-in-law.

‘Edward!’ he called out, and Kitty’s brother turned round with a quizzical look that turned to a smile as he saw Arthur. ‘Edward, I want you to continue advancing with your division. Beyond this ridge there is another. Take it and then drive back the French you will see to your front. Go in hard, and keep pushing them back for all you are worth, is that clear?’

‘Perfectly, my lord.’

‘Good. Then before the day is out we shall have Marshal Marmont caught in a vice of his own making. Good luck!’

Arthur turned and spurred his horse back up the slope to the ridge. The Third Division had two more miles to advance before it took the hills Arthur had described. Most of the time they would be shielded from French view by the Lesser Arapil, so that their attack would come as a surprise to the enemy. If Packenham struck swiftly he would smash into the French vanguard and start rolling their line up.

As soon as he reached the ridge Arthur rode to the two divisions waiting on the reverse slope, and ordered them to advance into the enemy’s flank strung out before them. With Pakenham driving Marmont from the right, the French advance would be halted in its tracks, and then there would be chaos, and easy pickings for the Fifth and Fourth Divisions as they joined the assault. If all went well, the enemy’s line would be shattered. All that remained was for the left flank of the allied line to advance and finish the job.

By the time he returned to the farmhouse the roar of cannon echoed across the left flank of the battlefield as the British and French artillery fought a duel across the valley that separated them. It was of little immediate concern to Arthur. As long as the French guns concentrated their fire in that direction they could not intervene at the decisive point.

Already the Fourth and Fifth Divisions were advancing, marching over the crest and down the forward slope towards the flank of the extended French line. Each division was formed up in a long line two men deep. It seemed like an impossibly slender formation, but it made the most of the firepower that could be brought to bear on the French when the two sides engaged.

A faint shrill call of trumpets caused Arthur and his staff to turn to their right where they saw the Portuguese dragoons attached to Pakenham’s division charging towards the flank of the leading French division. Beyond the dust kicked up by the cavalry Arthur could see the infantry of the Third Division doubling forward to form a line across the head of the French advance.

The enemy were not slow to react and thousands of Marmont’s soldiers rushed forward, drums beating, as they fired freely down the slope at the silent redcoats. As the dragoons began to withdraw the infantry advanced up the slope and, on reaching the crest, loosed off the first volley into the milling ranks of the leading French division. There was a brief exchange of fire, the French responding with an ill-disciplined rolling musketry, while Pakenham’s men fired in volleys, discharging over a thousand muskets at a time. Arthur knew the morale effect of such a devastating blow. The leading ranks of both sides were obscured by smoke and dust, and then Arthur saw the first of the French break away, running back along the ridge to the east. Moments later he saw the redcoats emerging from the smoke as they charged and shattered the leading French division.

General Alava clapped his hands together with delight. ‘Fine work! Ah, Marmont has already lost! I know it.’

Arthur kept his concentration on the action as his forces closed on the French line. The second enemy division had begun to move down from the ridge to avoid being thrown into confusion by their comrades fleeing back towards them. As they reached the floor of the valley they halted and began to adjust their formation.

‘What on earth?’ Somerset sat up straight in his saddle and squinted as he watched with growing disbelief. ‘They’re forming squares. Madness . . .’

Arthur felt a brief sense of pity for the men of the French division as the long lines of the redcoats closed on them. The key to winning a battle was using the correct formation to counter the enemy’s moves. Infantry in square might well be invulnerable to cavalry but they provided an easy target for artillery and muskets. Having seen the dragoons savage the flank of the division ahead of him, the French general had decided to be cautious, and now his caution was about to be punished.

The men of the Fourth and Fifth Divisions approached to within effective musket range and halted. Opposite them, the densely packed French squares stood their ground, and Arthur was impressed by their self-discipline: not one shot had been fired. A moment later, as the redcoats lowered their muskets to take aim, the foremost sides of the French squares spat flame and smoke and after a short delay the crash of the massed volley carried up the slope to Arthur. Scores of men went down along the British line, but the casualties were far fewer than they would have been if they had been more closely formed up, as were the French.

When the British fired back, it was hard to miss, and hundreds of the enemy were cut down in the first discharge. The following volleys tore the nearest faces of the French squares to pieces, and as smoke and dust engulfed the battered formations the redcoats charged home. The struggle was brief as the badly shaken French infantry suddenly saw faint figures rushing through the haze towards them, bursting into view with a deafening roar, eyes wide and wild, bayonets gleaming as they cut their way into the ruined French squares, stabbing and beating down all who stood in their path. Having already suffered murderous losses from musket fire and now faced with the savagery of a bayonet charge the French spirit broke and the squares fell apart as the men turned and ran back up the slope towards the ridge.

However, their suffering had only just begun. Into the gap between the Third and Fifth Divisions streamed the heavy cavalry of General Le Marchant. A thousand sabres glittered in the hot sunlight as the horsemen charged at full tilt in amongst the fleeing French. It was the ideal opportunity that every cavalryman hoped for and they set about their broken enemy with ferocious slashes and thrusts, cutting hundreds of them down as they struggled up the slope.

‘Glorious work!’ General Alava exclaimed. ‘Simply glorious.’

‘For now,’ Arthur replied evenly. ‘But unless they are reined in, Le Marchant’s men will be a spent force.’

The cavalry continued their pursuit in a swirling cloud of dust, cutting the second French division to pieces, until they came up against the third enemy formation. This time the French squares came into their own and the British cavalry were stopped in their tracks by the massed volleys of the enemy infantry. Arthur gritted his teeth in frustration at yet another example of his cavalry’s propensity to lose their heads. As the dragoons began to fall back Arthur quickly surveyed the battlefield. Already, two French divisions had been shattered, and now the three British divisions were closing in on the front and flank of the next enemy formation. Arthur frowned as he watched the Fourth Division advancing, its left just starting to pass the slope of the Greater Arapil. Arthur could see a French unit on top of the hill.

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