The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon - Страница 24
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Napoleon led the way back down the narrow steps of the tower and they emerged in the cool plastered nave. Striding across to the altar, Napoleon swept the ornaments aside.
‘Let me see the map.’
Berthier unfasted the strap of the leather document case hanging from his shoulder. He took out the map, unfolded it and spread it across the altar. Napoleon leaned forward and stared at it a moment, eyes darting across the features, and then he nodded.
‘Our line extends thus.’ He drew his finger east from the Danube, towards Wagram, and then angled it south, along the length of the Russbach river. ‘The enemy’s right wing hinges on Wagram. Massйna can pin their right, Oudinot and Davout can strike against their left, and then we use our reserves to punch through, here.’ He tapped the map. ‘At Wagram. If we succeed, then we can turn and trap their right flank against the Danube and annihilate a third of Archduke Charles’s army.’ His eyes glittered.
Berthier studied the map a moment. ‘But what of Archduke John, sire? What if he appears on our flank? It could be dangerous.’
Napoleon shook his head. ‘Send a cavalry division to screen our flank. If he nears the battlefield before we have dealt with his brother, they can hold him off while we defeat Archduke Charles.’
‘Very well, sire. What time shall we begin the attack?’
Napoleon took out his watch. ‘It’s five o’clock. We should begin no later than seven. That gives us the best part of three hours of daylight to break the Austrians. The orders have to be sent out no later than six.’ Napoleon took off his jacket and threw it to the side of the altar. ‘To work, Berthier!’
The massed guns of the Grand Army opened fire on the enemy just after seven that evening. Napoleon watched with satisfaction as solid shot ploughed through the dense enemy formations. Then their own guns replied, smashing gaps in the French columns waiting for the order to advance. Once he judged the Austrian centre was beginning to waver under the intense bombardment, Napoleon gave the order for the attack to begin. As the French guns fell silent, the drums began a deep rolling beat and the infantry closed up on the waiting Austrians. Again, the long smears of dense smoke spread across the landscape, shrouding the battle, and Napoleon waited with the Imperial Guard, just behind Eugиne’s corps.
As the sounds of the assault rose in a crescendo Napoleon rose up on his stirrups and strained his eyes to see how the leading division was progressing. Eugиne had chosen General MacDonald, the descendant of an exiled Scottish aristocrat, to lead the way with his division of Italian soldiers. In the fading evening light, Napoleon could just make out the distant figures of his men beginning to enter the streets of Wagram. He nodded approvingly.
‘I have misjudged MacDonald’s men. I had feared they might lack the elan of French men, but look at them now. Charging in like lions!’
‘Yes, sire,’ Berthier replied, looking up from the first reports that had arrived from the other sectors of the battle line. He cleared his throat nervously and addressed his Emperor. ‘Sire, Oudinot and Davout are taking heavy losses.’
‘Of course they are. It’s to be expected in a frontal attack.’
‘But the enemy are holding their ground, sire. Our columns have been stopped in their tracks. And they’re losing men.’
Napoleon’s brow creased and he thought for a moment before responding. ‘It does not matter. The battle will be decided at Wagram. Once we have that, the enemy’s spirit will break. I know it.’
As he watched MacDonald’s men advance into the town Napoleon felt a glow of triumph kindle in his breast. The Grand Army was on the cusp of another great victory. Once Austria was defeated he would make sure that they would never again dare to defy France and her Emperor. But harsh terms in any treaty would not be enough. Napoleon intended to find a way of tying the destiny of both nations together.
A sudden intensification of musket fire from the direction of Wagram broke into his thoughts.
‘Sounds like MacDonald has run into some determined opposition,’ Berthier commented.
‘Archduke Charles must have reinforced Wagram. Even he isn’t so stupid that he does not see a danger when it stares him right in the face. Still, it’s of no consequence. Eugиne will reinforce his leading division in turn. The Austrians will run out of reserves before we do.’
‘You are right, of course, sire.’
Napoleon raised his nose and continued to gaze towards Wagram, trying to discern how the battle was going. Then the first Italian casualties began to limp out of the town, making their way back towards the rest of Eugиne’s corps formed up a short distance ahead of Napoleon and his staff. After the walking wounded came those who were being helped to the rear by their comrades and Napoleon regarded them coldly, always suspicious of unwounded men who fell out of the battle line, for any reason. There were always men who took advantage of a comrade’s injury to duck out of the fight. Soon the trickle emerging from the town became a flood; some had even abandoned their weapons in their haste to get away.
‘Bloody cowards!’ a voice called out from the front rank of the nearest battalion of the Old Guard.
‘Silence there!’ a sergeant bellowed. ‘I’ll have the balls of the next man who opens his mouth!’
The veterans stood and watched as hundreds of men from MacDonald’s division streamed out of Wagram. The sounds of fighting began to diminish, and a faint cheer rose up in the distance.
Berthier glanced anxiously at his Emperor. ‘Sire, it seems that they have broken.’
‘Nonsense!’
And yet still they came, running back towards the rest of their division. Napoleon felt his temper rise at the sight of such mass indiscipline and cowardice.‘Why doesn’t somebody rally those bastards? Before they disrupt the rest of the corps.’ Napoleon craned his neck towards the cluster of standards that marked the position of Prince Eugиne and his staff. ‘For God’s sake do something!’
The remnants of MacDonald’s division emerged from Wagram, closely pursued by the jubilant Austrians, who shot down the fleeing Italians, or bayoneted them on the ground, without a shred of mercy. Mad with fear, the Italians raced towards the safety of their steadier comrades, pushing aside the leading ranks and breaking up the formation. Berthier nodded towards the scattered figures fanning out as they fled from Wagram.
‘They’re coming this way, sire. We should order the Guard to open ranks and let them through.’
‘No,’ Napoleon said firmly.‘We cannot afford to let that rabble throw the Guard into chaos. Order the men to fix bayonets.’
‘Sire?’
‘Do it!’ Napoleon snapped. ‘At once.’
‘Yes, sire.’
As the command was relayed through the battalions of the Old Guard standing in the front rank, the long triangular spikes of steel rasped from their sheaths and clattered into the locked position over the musket muzzles. Napoleon and his officers retired behind the leading battalion and watched as the sergeants gave the order to advance bayonets. A wall of lethal points was presented to the Italians fleeing towards the Guard. At the sight of the threat, and the cold and contemptuous expressions on the faces of the veterans, they turned aside and ran for the gaps between the French units. As the last men of MacDonald’s division hurried by, the pursuing Austrians drew up at the sight of fresh enemy units.
With parade-ground precision the Imperial Guard unleashed several volleys that cut the leading enemy wave to shreds. A handful of gallant Austrian officers attempted to rally their men and re-form their ranks to return fire, but they were swiftly struck down and lay with the rest of their men in heaps scattered across the bloody ground. The Austrian soldiers began to fall back, and soon they were running to the shelter of the houses on the edge of Wagram. In the failing light those French battalions that had been disrupted by the men of MacDonald’s division had re-formed, and stood ready to advance once again.
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