An Infamous Army Read online

  The sound of horse’s hooves galloping towards him made him lift his head. An adjutant in the blue uniform and orange facings of the 5th National Militia dismounted beside him, and said in English: ‘Adjutant to Count Bylandt, sir! I’m directed by General Perponcher to—Parbleu! it is you, then!’

  Colonel Audley looked up into a handsome, dark face bent over him, and said weakly: ‘Hallo, Lavisse! Get me a horse, there’s a good fellow!’

  ‘A horse!’ exclaimed Lavisse, going down on one knee, and supporting the Colonel in his arms. ‘You need a surgeon, my friend! Be tranquil: my General sends to bear you off the field.’ He gave a bitter laugh, and added: ‘That is what my brigade exists for—to succour you English wounded!’

  ‘Did you succeed in rallying your fellows?’ asked the Colonel.

  ‘Some, not all. Do not disturb yourself, my rival! You have all the honours of this day’s encounter. My honour is in the dust!’

  ‘Oh, don’t talk such damned theatrical rubbish!’ said the Colonel irritably. He fumbled with his right hand in his sash, and drew forth a folded and crumpled message. ‘This has to go to General Best. See that it gets to him, will you?—or, if he’s been killed, to his next in command.’

  A couple of orderlies and a doctor had come up from the rear. Lavisse gave the Colonel into their charge, and said with a twisted smile: ‘You trust your precious message to me, my Colonel?’

  ‘Be a good fellow, and don’t waste time talking about it!’ begged the Colonel.

  He was carried off the field as the attack upon the whole Allied line began. On the left, Ziethen’s advance guard had reached Smohain, and the Prussian batteries were in action, firing into Durutte’s skirmishers; while somewhere to the south-east Bülow’s guns could be heard assailing the French right flank. Allix and all that was left of Marcognet’s division once more attacked the Allied left; Donzelot led his men against Ompteda’s and Kielmansegg’s depleted ranks, while the Imperial Guard of Grenadiers and Chasseurs moved up in five columns at rather narrow deploying intervals, in echelon, crossing the undulating plain diagonally from the chaussée to the Nivelles road. Each column showed a front of about seventy men, and in each of the intervals between the battalions two guns were placed. In all, some four thousand five hundred men were advancing upon the Allied right, led by Ney, le Brave des Braves, at the head of the leading battalion.

  The sun, which all day had been trying to penetrate the clouds, broke through as the attack commenced. Its setting rays bathed the columns of the Imperial Guard in a fiery radiance. Rank upon rank of veterans who had borne the Eagles victorious through a dozen fights advanced to the beat of drums, with bayonets turned to blood-red by the sun’s last glow, across the plain into the smoke and heat of the battle.

  Owing to their diagonal approach the columns did not come into action simultaneously. Before the battalions marching upon the British Guards had reached the slope leading to the crest of the Allied position, Ney’s leading column had struck at Halkett’s brigade and the Brunswickers on his left flank.

  Over this part of the line the smoke caused by the guns firing from La Haye Sainte lay so thick that the Allied troops heard but could not see the formidable advance upon them. Colin Halkett had fallen, wounded in the mouth, rallying his men round one of the Colours; two of his regiments were operating as one battalion, so heavy had been their losses; and these were thrown into some confusion by their own light troops retreating upon them. Men were carried off their feet in the surge to the rear; the Colonel, on whom the command of the brigade had devolved, seemed distracted, saying repeatedly: ‘What am I to do? What would you do?’ to the staff officer sent by the Duke to ‘See what is wrong there!’ The men of the 33rd, fighting against the tide that was sweeping them back, re-formed, and came on, shouting: ‘Give them the cold steel, lads! Let ’em have the Brummagum!’ A volley was poured in before which the deploying columns recoiled; to the left, the Brunswickers, rallied once more by the Duke himself, followed suit, and the Imperial Guard fell back, carrying with it a part of Donzelot’s division.

  Those of the batteries on the Allied front which were still in action met the advance with a fire which threw the leading ranks into considerable disorder. Many of the British batteries, however, were useless. Some had been abandoned owing to the lack of ammunition; several guns stood with muzzles bent down, or touch-holes melted from the excessive heat; and more than one troop, its gunners either killed or too exhausted to run the guns up after each recoil, had its guns in a confused heap, the trails crossing each other almost on top of the limbers and the ammunition wagons. Ross’s, Sinclair’s, and Sandham’s were all silent, Lloyd’s battery was still firing from in front of Halkett’s brigade; so was Napier, commanding Bolton’s, in front of Maitland; and a Dutch battery of eight guns, belonging to Detmer’s brigade, brought up by Chassé in second line, had been sent forward to a position immediately to the east of the Brunswick squares, and was pouring in a rapid and well-directed fire upon the Grenadiers and the men on Donzelot’s left flank.

  As the Brunswickers and Halkett’s men momentarily repulsed the two leading columns, which, on their march over the uneven ground, had become merged into one unwieldy mass, the Grenadiers and the Chasseurs on the French left advanced up the slope to where Maitland’s Guards lay silently awaiting them. The drummers were beating the pas de charge, shouts of ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ and ‘En avant à la baïonette!’ filled the air. The Duke, who had galloped down the line from his position by the Brunswick troops, was standing with Maitland on the left flank of the brigade, not far from General Adam, whose brigade lay to the right of the Guards. Adam had ridden up to watch the advance, and the Duke, observing through his glass the French falling back before Halkett’s men exclaimed: ‘By God, Adam, I believe we shall beat them yet!’

  At ninety paces, the brass 8-pounders between the advancing battalions opened fire upon Maitland’s brigade. They were answered by Krahmer de Bichin’s Dutch battery, but though the grape shot tore through the ranks of the Guards the Duke withheld the order to open musketry fire. Not a man in the British line was visible to the advancing columns until they halted twenty paces from the crest to deploy.

  ‘Now, Maitland! Now’s your time!’ the Duke said at last, and called out in his deep, ringing voice: ‘Stand up, Guards!’

  The Guards leaped to their feet. The crest, which had seemed deserted, was suddenly alive with men, scarlet coats standing in line four-deep, with muskets at the present. Almost at the point of crossing bayonets they fired volley after volley into the Grenadiers. The Grenadiers, in column, had only two hundred muskets able to fire against the fifteen hundred of Halkett’s and Maitland’s brigades, deployed in line before them. They tried to deploy, but were thrown into confusion by a fire no infantry could withstand.

  On Maitland’s left, General Chassé had brought up Detmer’s brigade of Dutch-Belgians in perfect order. When the word to charge was given, and the sound of the three British cheers was heard as the Guards surged forward, the Dutch came up at the double, and, with a roar of ‘Oranje boven!’ drove the French from the crest in their front.

  The Guards, scattering the Grenadiers before them, advanced until their flank was threatened by the second attacking column of Chasseurs. The recall was sounded, and the order given to face-about and retire. In the din of clashing arms, crackling musketry, groans, cheers, and trumpet calls, the order was misunderstood. As the Guards regained the crest, an alarm of cavalry was raised. Someone shrieked: ‘Square, square, form square!’ and the two battalions, trying to obey the order, became intermingled. A dangerous confusion seemed about to spread panic through the ranks, but it was checked in a very few moments. The order to ‘Halt!—Front!—Form up!’ rang out; the Guards obeyed as one man, formed again four-deep, and told off in companies of forty.

  In the immediate rear of Maitland’s and Halkett’s brigades, D’Aubremé’s Dutch-Belgians, formed in three squares, appalled by the slaughter in their front,