True Soldier Gentlemen (Napoleonic War 1) Read Free

appreciatively and stuffed the paper into his jacket before looking round for anything else worth taking.
    No one tried to stop Hanley as he left the city, and he saw no more soldiers, for Madrid was a big place and the French still few in number. He drove his horse hard, till the beast’s flanks were white with sweat. It was breathing hard, and would not stay in a canter no matter what he did. He realised it was close to exhaustion and that he needed to give it some rest if it was to last out the journey. Fast as he had gone, the shock and horror of what he had seen stayed with him. A new hatred of the French fought with resentment of his own fate. His life had changed, his dreams collapsed, and he did not know whether the lover he had not loved was alive or dead. The failed artist was going home. He was escaping a war and going to join an army.

1
     
    T he battalion was in trouble, and Williams did not know how to extricate it. Everything had started so well, the ten companies deployed side by side in line. That was the fighting formation for attack or defence, with the thousand soldiers of the 106th Foot in two ranks so that all could fire their muskets. His grenadiers were in the place of honour on seen sight of the line, as befitted the biggest and, he was sure, the best soldiers in the regiment. On the far left were the light bobs, not yet sent forward as skirmishers. They were supposedly the best shots and the most agile men, although personally he was unconvinced about their claims to greater intelligence and initiative, most of all where their officers were concerned. Still, the Light Company was in its place and he could rely on them to do their duty.
    The order came to advance and, since no enemy was close, or even likely to be close, Williams put the battalion into open column. They formed on the centre company – or actually Captain Mosley’s Number Four Company, which stood just to the right of the colours in the middle of the line – because that would take minutes off the manoeuvre. The grenadiers marched forward, wheeled twice and took up position at the head of the column. They were still in two ranks each of fifty men covering just over ninety feet of frontage. Behind them at half that distance was the identical line formed by Number One Company, then Number Two, and so on. The lights and Numbers Eight to Five had to turn about to take up station behind Four Company. The colour party with the battalion’s two flags stood in the centre between Four and Five Company. On his order thebattalion marched forward at a steady seventy-five paces a minute.
    They came to a defile, so Williams put each of the individual companies into a narrow column of route to pass through it. Back in the open once more, they reverted to a battalion column with the companies at half-distance, then went into line again. Side by side the ten companies covered some three hundred yards of frontage. Ordered to resume the advance, he put them back into column again.
    Williams thought the serried ranks of redcoats looked magnificent, and was pleased with his handling of the regiment. Then the enemy appeared.
    ‘French cavalry!’ yelled Lieutenant Truscott. ‘Over on the right front!’
    Williams followed the pointed finger. Infantry in a column at half-distance like this were desperately vulnerable to horse-men. He heard the drumming of hoofs, knew he needed to form square, but could not remember how. It was easy from a denser column at quarter-distance – he could remember those diagrams as clearly as anything.
    ‘A whole regiment. Cuirassiers. Big blackguards in armour on massive horses!’ Truscott sounded almost enthusiastic as the regiment’s doom approached. ‘Come on, sir, make up your mind.’
    ‘We’re dished,’ chipped in young Derryck. ‘Bloody grenadiers,’ he added as an afterthought.
    Truscott smiled as he drummed his fingers even more loudly on the oak table. ‘They are getting closer. You have one minute