The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon - Страница 82

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‘Nonsense!’ Arthur snapped and then, cross at his fraying temper, continued more quietly, ‘We have one of their outworks, thanks to Major Somers-Cocks. It is just a question of time and steady effort and the fortress will be ours.’

Somerset glanced at him and then back at the fortress without saying a word, but his doubt and frustration were palpable. Arthur could understand his sentiment easily enough. There were thirty-five thousand men camped around the fortress. According to the local people the garrison amounted to little more than two thousand men, but their commander, General Dubreton, was every bit as wily and spirited as his comrade Philippon had been at Badajoz. Memory of that terrible siege had been preying on Arthur’s mind ever since the army had arrived before Burgos and he was determined not to repeat the bloody assault that had cost him so dearly. There would be no massed assault this time. Burgos would be taken piece by piece.

‘My dear Somerset,’ he said patiently, ‘I have seen many hill forts like this when I served in India and I managed to break into them readily enough. We will have Burgos in due course.’

‘I trust you are right, sir.’

‘How are the preparations for the mine proceeding?’

Somerset gestured towards the narrow trench zig-zagging up the slope towards the outer wall. A short distance from the base of the wall the trench disappeared into a tunnel.‘Captain Perkins says that it will be ready to detonate at dawn tomorrow, sir.’

‘Very well. Pass the word for Major Somers-Cocks to see me at headquarters at three in the morning. I will give him his orders in person.’

The major, like so many who had bought their way up through the officer ranks, was young, fair-haired and fresh-faced. But Arthur knew the man had a fine combat record. As such he was just the kind of man Arthur needed to lead the assaults on the defences of the fortress. He seemed to court danger with impunity and had been one of the handful of officers who had volunteered for the duty. It was as well for England that she produced such fine soldiers, Arthur reflected as he briefly examined the man standing at attention in front of his desk in the early hours.

Arthur cleared his throat and began the briefing. ‘Have you completed the preparations for your assault party?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ Somers-Cocks answered with a slight Scots burr. ‘The men are already waiting in the approach trench. Two hundred and fifty volunteers, as you ordered.’

‘I hope it will be enough.’

‘It will suffice, my lord.’ Somers-Cocks smiled. ‘After all, my orders are not to take the whole fortress. Merely take and hold the breach.’

‘If you are successful, the support wave will reach you quickly enough. But understand, they have strict orders not to advance unless you give the signal that the breach is in your hands.’

‘I understand, my lord.’

‘Good.’ Arthur nodded, and then softened his formal tone. ‘Did you have any difficulty finding the volunteers for the assault party?’

‘Most came willingly.’

‘Most?’

‘Och, you know how it is, my lord. Some men never know that they want to volunteer until they receive the right kind of inspiration.’

Arthur arched an eyebrow. ‘That being?’

The major pursed his lips. ‘The choice between fifteen minutes in the breach and a week of fatigues in the latrine generally has the desired result, my lord.’

Arthur laughed and stood up, offering his hand to Somers-Cocks. ‘Good luck, my boy.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’ He shook Arthur’s hand, then stepped back, saluted and turned to leave the tent. Arthur stared after him for a moment, wondering if he would see the man alive again when the next day had dawned. Then he shook his head. Somers-Cocks was one of those individuals who was fated to survive.

‘Four o’clock, sir,’ Somerset said quietly, his boots squelching in the mud as he stepped forward to Arthur’s side.

‘Yes.’

All was still. Overhead a bank of clouds had blocked out the stars and added to the pitch darkness that enveloped the fortress. Torches on the wall picked out some of the details of the defences and occasionally one of the French soldiers on watch. The only sounds came from the allied camp where a handful of drunken soldiers from two battalions were engaged in a brawl. The provosts would soon sort that out, Arthur reflected, but for now the noise would help to divert the attention of the defenders while the assault party edged as close to the mine as they dared.

‘Five past four,’ Somerset muttered. ‘The engineers are late.’

Arthur was about to reply when a jet of flame blasted out from the entrance to the tunnel leading under the wall, followed by a roar that echoed off the walls of the nearby town. After the sound died away there was a stunned silence before Arthur heard the crash and rumble of masonry as a section of the wall above the mine collapsed. At once there was a cry from Somers-Cocks. ‘Forward! Go forward!’

There was no cheer from the men of the assault party as they burst from the shelter of their trench and scurried up the slope towards the breach. A few muskets fired down at them from the nearest tower of the outer wall, but they charged on, clambering up the debris slope and into the breach. The sounds of fighting carried back to the command post as Arthur strained ears and eyes in an attempt to try to discern how the attack was progressing. Then there was a sudden lurid flare of white sparks as one of the assault party lit the small pot of powder that had been taken forward to act as the signal that the beach had been taken. At once the waiting support brigade rose up from where they had been concealed in the approach trenches and rushed towards the breach. The sounds of musket fire continued for the next half-hour before dying down to the occasional exchange of a handful of shots.

As the first light gathered on the horizon a runner came panting up the trench to the command post, his boots slipping in the glutinous mud that filled all the trenches.

‘My lord.’ He breathed heavily as he stood to attention. ‘Major Somers-Cocks begs to report that the breach has been taken, and his men are holding the flanks while the brigade invests the defences around the breach.’

‘Very good,’ Arthur felt the burden of anxiety lift from his shoulders. ‘Pass on my congratulations and my thanks to the major.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Once the man had slithered back down into the trench Somerset spoke. ‘Well, that was fairly straightforward, thank God.’

Arthur rubbed his aching eyes briefly.‘We have the breach, Somerset. That is all. You can be sure that Dubreton is already planning his counterstroke.’

As the morning passed the assault party took cover around the breach and continued to exchange shots with the defenders in the upper level of fortifications. Meanwhile the follow-up brigade, under the guidance of the engineer officers, hurriedly built up a breastwork inside the breach and began to clear away the debris to make the passage through the gap easier. At noon, Arthur sent forward a company of Portuguese troops to relieve Somers-Cocks and his men, while another company took over from those widening the breach.

It was slightly overcast and a chilly breeze was made yet more uncomfortable by a steady drizzle that began mid-morning. Arthur made his way along the approach trench to inspect the breach. There was already a foot of water lying in the bottom and the soil beneath was muddy and slippery so that he had to tread carefully. In places the sides of the trench were crumbling away and small parties of men, drenched and covered with mud, were shoring up the banks of earth with wicker baskets filled with rocks. As the trench began to climb the slope the puddles ceased and instead the water gushed down the floor like a small mountain stream. Arthur paused to look up at the fortress looming overhead and there was a soft zip as a plug of mud exploded into the air near the edge of the trench.

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