The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon. Страница 117

‘Then why weren’t they sent forward?’

‘I didn’t have your authority to give the order, sire. It was in the battle orders that they could only be deployed by you.’

Napoleon sighed with exasperation that he had been distracted by events at Mцckern at the critical point of the main battle. It was too late to do anything now. The light was starting to fail and night would be upon them in little more than an hour. He clasped his hands tightly together behind his back and mastered his frustration before he could give the necessary orders to Berthier.

‘Call off the attack. Order all commanders to withdraw. Once they break contact they are to retire on Leipzig.

The Grand Army fell back on Leipzig under cover of darkness, forming a defence perimeter around the edge of the city. The strength returns sent in to headquarters indicated that the day’s fighting had cost twenty-five thousand men, and it was likely that the enemy’s losses had been somewhat higher, mainly due to the bloody failure of their initial attack. That was of little comfort to Napoleon now that the enemy’s armies were closing in on Leipzig. There was no longer any possibility of fighting them one at a time, and no hope of defeating them en masse. Retreat to the Rhine was the only course of action lying open to Napoleon now, and the knowledge weighed heavily upon his weary mind.

The following day there was only skirmishing as the allied armies moved into position, preparing for a simultaneous assault on the city. Napoleon took advantage of the delay to send his baggage across the river that ran to the west of Leipzig. The ground on the far bank was composed of a low-lying marsh, crossed by a causeway, and it was clear that there was a danger that the army would be caught in a bottleneck if it collapsed under the coming onslaught. That night, Napoleon revealed his decision to retreat to his marshals.

‘It seems that we have another Berezina, gentlemen.’ Napoleon smiled thinly. ‘We are outnumbered two to one. Our ammunition is running low. We must evacuate the city. We will start pulling men out of the line from midnight. MacDonald, Lauriston and Poniatowski will form the rearguard and keep the enemy at bay until the rest of the army is over, and then fall back themselves. In order for the evacuation to succeed, it is vital that the men cross the river and the causeway in good order. The rearguard will be covered by our guns on the far bank, and when the last men are across the bridge will be blown. Berthier will send you orders when it is your turn to cross the river.’ Napoleon shrugged. ‘That’s all there is to say, gentlemen, except good luck.’

A light rain began to fall during the night, and it helped to conceal the sounds of the retreat as the horses, guns and men of the Grand Army filed across the river Elster. When dawn broke, half the army was still in the city, and in order to buy more time Napoleon sent an officer to the enemy to offer an armistice, spinning out the negotiations for as long as possible. Eventually the allies became aware of the ruse and sent the officer back, and began their attack shortly afterwards. There was little to gain from remaining in Leipzig and Napoleon mounted his horse and made his way through the streets to the crowded approaches to the bridge.

Once he reached the causeway Napoleon dismounted to observe the final phase of the evacuation as the soldiers pressed forward eagerly, despite the angry shouts of the engineer officers struggling to ensure that the men did not dangerously crowd the bridge. Napoleon approached the officer in charge of the demolition of the bridge as he supervised the laying of the fuses.

‘You are certain that the charges are sufficient to destroy the bridge, Colonel . . .’

‘Montfort, sire.’The officer smiled nervously. ‘Colonel Montfort. Yes, indeed, sire. There’s enough powder under the arches to blow it to pieces twice over.’

Napoleon nodded. ‘That’s good. You understand your orders?’

‘Yes, sire. We light the fuse the moment the last of the rearguard is over.’

‘That’s right.’ Napoleon regarded the man carefully. Montfort’s left hand was twitching at his side. Napoleon patted him on the shoulder and smiled reassuringly. ‘Just do your duty, Colonel, and we’ll all be able to thumb our noses at the enemy, eh?’

The soldiers continued to file across the bridge as the last hours of the morning passed, until only the rearguard, some twenty thousand men, remained on the eastern bank. The sounds of fighting gradually drew closer to the bridge but Poniatowski reported that the rearguard was falling back in good order. Then, shortly before one o’clock, a party of Austrian soldiers appeared at the windows of a house overlooking the river. At once they opened fire on the men crossing the bridge. The range was long, and most of the rounds cracked into the stonework or zipped over the heads of the intended targets. Only a handful of men were struck, but it still caused a ripple of panic amongst those packed on the bridge.

Napoleon saw the danger at once and hurried over to the nearest gun covering the bridge, close to the position where the engineers stood by their fuse.

‘Sergeant! You see that house there?’ Napoleon pointed across the river, and a moment later there was a flash and a puff of smoke from one of the windows.

‘I see ’em, sire.’The sergeant nodded.

‘Then traverse your gun and put some case shot through those windows,’ Napoleon ordered.

‘With pleasure, sire.’

As soon as the gun was laid, and the elevation screw adjusted, the sergeant ordered his crew back and touched the portfire to the fuse cone. The field gun kicked back as a short jet of flame stabbed towards the house. Glass shattered and plaster exploded from the wall, splashing down into the river below. As Napoleon had hoped, the enemy musket fire ceased for an instant, but then a musket barrel appeared at the window and a shot was fired. The ball smacked into the bridge close by Colonel Montfort and he cried out as a stone chip grazed his cheek.

‘Sweet Jesus!’ he shouted, eyes wide with fear.‘The enemy are on us!’ He turned quickly to one of his men, no more than a youth, holding the smouldering taper. ‘Light the fuse! Do it now!’

Then he turned and scrambled up the bank, brushing past Napoleon as he ran along the causeway. Another shot struck the surface of the river close to the young engineer and he ducked and lit the end of the fuse.

‘No! Don’t!’ Napoleon shouted, thrusting out his hands.

There was a bright flare, and then the spark raced along the fuse, hissing and spitting like a demon as it followed the loops of cord towards the central arches of the bridge. One of the guardsmen escorting Napoleon grabbed his sleeve and hauled him away.

‘Take cover, sire!’

They stumbled across the bank of the river, making for the shelter of a low stone wall. The guardsman heaved Napoleon over the wall and dived after him, just as there was a blinding flash that shot jets of flame and smoke into the air. The concussion hit them with a deafening roar. Napoleon glanced up and saw chunks of masonry, men and limbs blasted into the air, where they hung for an instant before tumbling back down. A slab of paving smashed through the tiled roof of the house adjoining the wall.

For a moment Napoleon sat on his hands and knees, stunned by the ferocity of the blast. Then he scrambled up and looked over the wall. The central arches of the bridge had gone and the water beneath was churning as the lighter bits of debris rained down. A gap nearly a hundred feet wide had been blown out of the bridge and on either end the stonework was scorched black. Further back the bodies of his men lay heaped on the cobbles of the roadway. Here and there a dazed survivor struggled to free himself from the bloody carnage. On the far bank a crowd of men stood and stared, aghast. Their only escape route from Leipzig was gone. A collective groan reached Napoleon’s ears from across the river.