The Fields of Death - Scarrow Simon - Страница 22
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Napoleon looked at him and shook his head. ‘Marshal Massйna, you have a brutally practical way of looking at life. Even so, I must admit I had hoped that a little idealism burned in your heart.’
Massйna shrugged. ‘I’ll leave idealism to the philosophers, sire. As long as there’s fighting, fucking and fortunes to be made, I am your man.’
‘And what if I make peace? What of your allegiance to me then?’
‘Sire, that sergeant was right about one thing. While you are Emperor there cannot be peace in Europe, whether you will it or not. And that suits me perfectly.’
They returned their borrowed jackets when they reached headquarters and made their way into the map room. Berthier was leaning across the table with a pair of dividers as he calculated the march timetables for the remaining columns still moving forward to join the army. He straightened up and bowed his head as the Emperor and Massйna entered.
‘Everything proceeding to plan?’ asked Napoleon.
‘Yes, sire. The entire army should be over the river by the second day. One hundred and eighty thousand men, less the garrison to cover the bridges.’
‘What’s the latest intelligence on Archduke Charles?’
‘According to the reports from the cavalry corps, the Austrians have something in the order of one hundred and fifty thousand men concentrated against us. Of course, we are still unsure of the precise location of Archduke John’s army. He began his withdrawal from Italy two weeks ago, and might be close enough to intervene.’
‘What’s his strength?’
‘No more than fifteen thousand, sire.’
‘Then he is of little consequence to us,’ Napoleon decided. He clicked his fingers. ‘Massйna, the map.’
Massйna took out the diagram of the river crossings and unfolded it beside the larger-scale map that Berthier had been working on. Napoleon tapped his finger on the pencilled markings on the eastern side of Lobau island. ‘This is where we cross. Have the map copied and sent to the commander of the engineers. He is to have the pontoon bridges ready to move into position at nightfall.’
‘Yes, sire.’
Napoleon studied the map in silence for a moment before he nodded with satisfaction. All the pieces were in place. Archduke Charles had concentrated his army around the French troops in the Mьhlau salient. It appeared that he had taken the bait and was waiting to meet the French attack over the same ground as where they had attempted to force a crossing just over a month earlier. Instead, Napoleon would strike two miles to the east, towards the village of Wittau. In overwhelming strength the French would pour across the Danube and immediately wheel round to take the Austrians in the flank and rear and crush them. Napoleon looked up at Marshal Massйna and smiled.
‘We have the enemy precisely where we want them. Tonight, you will have the honour of leading the army across the Danube and on to victory.’
Chapter 9
The storm broke just after night fell over the Danube. Lightning illuminated the landscape in brilliant flashes of dazzling white which caught thousands of men, horses, guns and silvery streaks of rain in a frozen tableau for an instant before plunging the world back into darkness. Then, as the men marched forward through the mud towards the pontoon bridges, the thunder crackled and boomed like a vast cannonade in the heavens.
‘It could hardly be better,’ Napoleon commented to Berthier as they sat on their horses, watching the first columns of Massйna’s corps move forward to the river bank, ready to cross over the moment the bridges were swung into place. Napoleon gestured towards the western side of the island, nearly two miles away. ‘This storm, and the diversionary attack from Mьhlau, will provide perfect cover for Massйna’s assault.’
Berthier nodded, and reached for his pocket watch. He waited a moment, and then read the time as lightning flashed overhead.
‘Just gone nine o’clock, sire. Less than ten minutes to go now.’
They waited in the darkness while the rain hissed down, pattering off the flat tops of the soldiers’ shakos and soaking through their greatcoats and the uniform jackets beneath. Around them, the trees that lined the river bank swayed in the gusts of wind that sounded like the sea as it swept through the leafy boughs. Every time the lightning burst across the landscape the soldiers looked like statues, Napoleon mused as he hunched his neck down into his collar to try to keep the water from trickling down his neck. Then, at the appointed time, there was a deep roar from the west that echoed across the island as the guns massed opposite Mьhlau blasted the Austrian lines. At the same time General Legrand would be launching his diversionary attack, engaging the enemy outposts as aggressively as he could to draw Archduke Charles’s attention away from his left flank.
As soon as the cannonade began, the five hundred grenadiers of Massйna’s assault force rushed the small boats they had been issued down the bank and into the river, before clambering aboard and paddling across the current as swiftly as possible. No shots were fired from the Austrian sentries, who were either sheltering from the storm or distracted by the furious sounds of battle away to the west. In the darkness, Napoleon could just make out the boats surging across the river, the men landing and then heading cautiously up the far bank, muskets at the ready.
As soon as the assault force was across, the first of the pontoon bridges was towed into position. Behind it came the other nine, emerging from the small channel where they had been waiting, hidden from Austrian eyes. The engineers hauled them into position and fastened them to the posts already driven into the bank of Lobau island. Napoleon urged his mount forward to the nearest of the pontoon bridges and sent for the officer in charge.
‘How long will it take you to get the bridge into position, Lieutenant?’
‘Fifteen minutes, sire,’ the engineer replied at once.
‘I will give you five minutes,’ said Napoleon as he reached for his pocket watch. ‘I’ll be timing you.’
‘Yes, sire.’ The engineer saluted and turned to run down the bank to his men, already shouting his orders to get a boat across the river with a cable and some stout stakes to drive into the far bank. As soon as the stakes were pounded into position the engineers pulled the cable attached to the end of the bridge and with ponderous grace the line of pontoons and trestles angled across the current until it extended from bank to bank. As soon as the last cables had been tied securely to the stakes the engineering officer sprinted up to his Emperor and saluted as he stood to attention, chest heaving from his exertions.
‘Beg to report, the bridge is ready, sire.’
Napoleon thrust his pocket watch back inside his coat. ‘With nearly half a minute to spare. Fine work.’
‘Thank you, sire.’
‘Now, I’d be obliged if you would get the first of Massйna’s men across that bridge of yours.’
‘Yes, sire.’ The engineer saluted smartly and hurried off to the head of the bridge and waved the first company forward. The soldiers broke step as they reached the first trestle and then strode as quickly as they could across to the far bank. Further downriver Napoleon could just discern the outlines of the other bridges being swung into position across the current, and more of Massйna’s corps quickly crossed to the far bank. A few hundred paces inland, individual muskets flared as those enemy soldiers on watch who had managed to keep their powder dry opened fire on the assault party. Once the first division was across it marched off along the bank of the river to the north, making for the fortified village of Gross-Enzerdorff before pressing on to Essling.
To the right, Oudinot and Davout led their men across and drove the enemy back as they fanned out across the plain and formed their corps up on Massйna’s right flank. By the early hours of the morning half of the Grand Army was already over the Danube. Napoleon and his staff crossed the river and set up headquarters in the hamlet of Uferhaus, where the Emperor’s bodyguard unceremoniously turfed out the owner of a small estate and surrounded the walls with pickets. Inside Napoleon sat at a hastily arranged map table and took a bowl of soup as Berthier eagerly read over the reports sent back from each of the three corps which had already crossed the river.
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