Текст книги "Officer's Prey"

Автор книги: Armand Cabasson

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Napoleon managed a feat that saved a large part of what remained of his army. He sent a battalion followed by thousands of stragglers towards the little town of Borisov. Admiral Chichagov thought that this was where the French would try to cross and moved his troops opposite this position. However, the Emperor ordered General Éblé’s pontoneers to build two bridges opposite the village of Studianka. When Chichagov was informed of this work he thought it was a manoeuvre intended to divert him from Borisov. When he eventually realised his mistake, the two bridges across the Berezina had been built in appalling conditions and the French had begun to consolidate themselves on the west bank. The first construction, which was fragile and with a deck that was sometimes at water level, was used by the infantry, and the second, more sturdy, by the artillery and vehicles. Napoleon had had thirty guns set up to protect them.

On 27 November, several corps, including that of Prince Eugène, now consisting of only one thousand eight hundred men, crossed the Berezina.

On 28 November, at seven in the morning, the Russians attacked both banks at the same time.

CHAPTER 33

ON all sides the sound of artillery fire, shooting and shouting could be heard. On both banks the French were attempting to contain the Russians, who were far superior in numbers. The remainder of Davout, Eugène and La Tour Maubourg’s corps were continuing their retreat along the road to Vilna. On the east bank a considerable throng of civilians, deserters and stragglers had congregated. This dense mass was crowding together to try to get across the bridges. In the scramble people were trampled or crushed to death by carts; others were pushed into the water, black muddy water that was carrying huge blocks of ice and armies of corpses along with it. The Russian cannonballs smashed into the hordes from all directions. Part of the deck of the bridge collapsed at regular intervals, plunging clusters of people into the river. Then the pontoneers rapidly set about repairing it. Those who attempted to swim across the Berezina rarely reached the other side. On the east bank, General Fournier’s eight hundred Baden and Hessian troopers launched charge after charge. They were supporting IX Corps, which was holding in check Wittgenstein’s forty thousand Russians. On the other bank, Marshal Oudinot, wounded early on and replaced by Marshal Ney, was facing up to Chichagov’s thirty thousand combatants with nine thousand men. Time was on the side of the Russians, who were gradually receiving reinforcements sent by Kutuzov.

The remnants of Colonel Pirgnon’s regiment had slowed down and had not moved off from the west bank. As a result, Margont and Lefine had also slackened their pace. Saber had stayed with them. An aide-de-camp galloped up and halted his sweating horse in front of Colonel Pirgnon. The rider was exhausted. He was being sent with orders everywhere at once and had to force his way through the pushing and shoving crowds with the aid of his sabre.

‘Colonel, you’re marching too slowly. The retreat must speed up, the Emperor’s orders!’

He immediately wheeled his horse round and set off again, yelling, ‘Out of the way! Out of the way!’

Pirgnon went up to what remained of the 35th of the Line, who had been joined by some stragglers. Only he had heard the messenger’s words.

‘Soldiers, the Emperor is going to launch a counterattack of which we will form the spearhead. We’re going to break through the enemy line. We shall be supported by several regiments and six battalions of the Guard as well as by all the troopers available. The Emperor is going to calm these muzhiks down and ensure the safety of our retreat!’

The majority of the soldiers obeyed and made up an attacking column. No one imagined for a single instant that Pirgnon could have been lying. All of them thought that the aide-de-camp in a hurry was galloping around passing on the order for this massive counterattack. They had faith in the genius of their Emperor, who once more was going to carry all before him. The Guard was going to be in at the kill, the Guard! The Emperor’s favourite child, the élite corps that had never lost a single battle. Pirgnon managed to convince the remnants of other battalions and to rally some stragglers. Placing himself at the head of three hundred motley but fired-up soldiers, he launched his column straight at the thirty thousand Russians.

‘What the hell is he playing at?’ Saber exclaimed.

Pirgnon’s small band of men went past the French line of defence. Those who were confronting the Russians, entrenched behind cut-down trees, snowdrifts or dead bodies, looked on in amazement. Groups of dark figures gesticulated as they went past, either encouraging them or trying desperately to make them change their minds. Margont saw Pirgnon turn round on his mount and wave his sabre above his head as he looked towards him.

‘What reinforcements is he motioning to? Who’s going to support him?’ wondered Saber out loud.

‘He’s motioning to me,’ replied Margont. ‘He’s a very intelligent man. He knows that I know. So he’s bidding me farewell.’

‘But what the hell is he playing at, damn it?’

‘He’s committing suicide. He’s committing suicide with his regiment.’

The Russians reacted immediately. Two squadrons of hussars moved off and charged at the column from the side. In their headlong rush they took out rows of soldiers and broke up the formation into three sections. The troopers began whirling around the infantrymen, slashing away at will. Amidst the confusion the French tried to form square to defend themselves. Why had their cavalry not charged to halt the hussars? Why were the other regiments not coming to their aid?

‘Let’s go!’ exclaimed Margont.

Saber was rendered speechless.

‘Let’s go, Irénée! We’re not going to stand and watch. I’ll see to Pirgnon and you get the survivors to pull back. Fernand, you go and find reinforcements.’

Lefine was no more talkative than Saber.

‘Well, Irénée, do you want to end this campaign as a colonel or not?’

Margont set off towards the slaughter, with Saber following him. As he went past the French line he shouted: ‘Cover us!’

Along the whole front the French were taking aim at the hussars and whoops of joy greeted each hit. To attempt a sally was unthinkable but at least they could support these reckless comrades with sustained fire. The hussars made easy targets but their commander did not want to let go of his prey until he was sure they were done for. He ordered the withdrawal only when the Russian infantry that was rushing forward made contact. A wave of Russians engulfed the attackers. They outnumbered them ten to one, and the hussars had left them enough time to encircle the French. Pirgnon had dismounted. He was delighting in this pointless butchery. For him these visions of combatants riddled with bayonet thrusts or shot at from all sides was a sublime spectacle, a gory feast. Here one of his lieutenants was being held down by two Russians while a third ran his bayonet through him. Over there a sergeant was being shot simultaneously by four infantrymen. Anxious faces turned towards him but he was smiling. The trapped French soldiers were fighting like lions to get back to their lines. Margont, Saber and fifteen or so volunteers fought their way through to them. But as the seconds ticked by, the Russians were tightening the noose. The French had formed a circle with their backs to a wood, halfway between the Russian line and Marshal Ney’s. A third of them had already been wiped out and bodies were dropping constantly. A shower of bullets rained on to them, mowing them down or hitting the tree trunks with the sound of hailstones.

Margont rushed towards Pirgnon, at the centre of his position. The colonel greeted him gleefully.

‘I didn’t expect you to come, Captain. You are not short of courage. That will make a few more corpses.’

Margont took off his heavy cloak and unsheathed his sword. Pirgnon had grasped his sabre. His smile was disturbing, loathsome.

‘To begin with, I tried everything to fight against my bloodlust. I prayed to God, but in my imagination I tied women up and then tortured them. Then I began to work ceaselessly until I could no longer keep my eyes open. I thus reached a state of such exhaustion that I cleansed my mind of these images. But they resurfaced in my dreams, which mingled pleasure and pain, love and death. I was desperate. I exposed myself to danger in the Great Redoubt and waited there. The Russian bullets whistled around my ears and I came away with only a scratch. However, I have never stopped beseeching the Russians to do what I was unable to accomplish myself.’

Pirgnon seemed at ease amidst the chaos surrounding him. He spread his arms. ‘Is it my fault if I am still alive?’

‘In addition to Maria Dorlovna and Countess Sperzof, it was you who killed Élisa Lasquenet, the young actress, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes! Do you have any other crimes you wish to question me about? No? What a pity, your list will remain incomplete. Now my desires have won. No more remorse. I am a monster but that pleases me. And I dream of thrusting my sword into your body. Then, either I shall be killed in a final bloodbath or the Russians will spare me. Captivity will then be only an interlude before a whole series of “pleasant encounters”.’

Pirgnon lunged at Margont but the captain swiftly pulled back. The colonel swung his sabre to behead him. Margont crouched down and thrust the point of his sword towards Pirgnon’s stomach. The colonel, an excellent dueller, had anticipated this attack. The two blades met. There was a snapping sound as Margont’s sword broke, struck on the flat by the thicker metal of the sabre. Margont immediately leapt at his opponent and stabbed him with the remains of his sword. Pirgnon fell to his knees, surprised at being defeated. He put his hand to his stomach and looked at the blood on his palm. He was amazed to discover that it was of the same colour and the same consistency as that of his victims. So, the blood of others also coursed through his veins … He collapsed.

Margont put his cloak back on. He felt neither triumph nor relief. He did not even have the bitter, cruel taste in his mouth of the ‘justice’ he himself had administered. His mind was blank. Fear quickly began to fill the vacuum until it occupied not only his mind but his whole body: he was surrounded by Russians, Russians eager to make the French pay for this campaign, Russians whose appetite for killing appeared insatiable.

His stomach churning with anguish and his reflexes sharpened by the instinct of self-preservation, he caught up with Saber. His friend had gathered a group of about thirty élite soldiers, grenadiers, voltigeurs or men of resolve. These Frenchmen thought they were condemned to die and were preparing to charge in a frenzy. They wanted to kill. To kill out of hatred, out of desperation, to avoid thinking of their own deaths. To kill, kill, kill and in the end, alas, to die.

‘This way! We’re going to try to break out!’ exclaimed Saber, pointing to the left with his sabre.

‘But, sir, we need to try to get back to our lines,’ a sergeant-major protested.

‘That’s obvious to anyone, so the Russians have positioned a company of grenadiers between our troops and us. But over there, look: you can see militiamen.’

To the left, behind the regular troops, there were indeed combatants with grey or brown cloaks. Some were wearing hats instead of their regimental helmets and, not having been issued with muskets even, were wielding pikes. Saber launched his attack. The Russians were not expecting it at this point and were caught unawares. Saber’s group quickly dispatched the musketeers in the front line by battering or bayoneting them. Once up against the militiamen, who far outnumbered them, they took aim and fired the volley of shots they had held back until then. Given the situation, Saber gave the cruellest order he had ever issued: ‘Aim at their faces.’ When the militiamen, civilians with the sketchiest of training, poorly equipped and lacking experience, saw the faces of their comrades blown to pieces and turned into gaping, bleeding wounds, they threw their weapons to the ground and fled screaming. Then, the French launched themselves into the breach, shouting as they went. The circle emptied of its defenders like an abscess being drained. The survivors fled back to their lines under heavy fire, covered by Lefine, Fanselin and Piquebois, who had made a line of volunteers step forward a few paces. About a hundred soldiers survived this absurd assault.

Saber was carried along in triumph.

‘That was a fine action by your friend. I’ll refer it to the appropriate authorities,’ Margont heard someone say behind him.

He turned round to see Colonel Barguelot.

‘May I enquire what you are doing here, sir? Isn’t your regiment on its way to Vilna?’

‘That is correct. So it has no need of me for the moment. I shall easily catch up with it because one of my mounts has survived. This is where the action is, so that’s why I’m here.’

With that, Colonel Barguelot went to give out his orders while the bullets struck the tree trunks around him, spitting splinters of wood on to his cloak. He rallied those running away and pointed out a position to be strengthened to the sappers. He had not been able to accept the idea of his cowardice being revealed. He could not bear his image to be tarnished. To salvage it he was prepared to do anything, even to die. Some of his soldiers, who had stayed to escort him, said to one another: ‘There we were thinking our colonel was a coward, and now look at him in one of the most dangerous positions when he has no need to be there!’ Barguelot was radiant. He was surprised, scared even, by his own courage. But he revelled in the admiration he could read on their faces. So he continued to force himself to make superhuman efforts to appear confident and genial. On seeing that Margont was not leaving, he had made up his mind to stay. He believed that the captain wanted to fight and he had not been able to accept the idea of this man acquiring a reputation superior to his own. And he also wanted to scotch the rumours about his conduct during the campaign. So he had seized the last possible opportunity to restore his family name and what he considered to be its incomparable aura.

He marched off to find Marshal Ney, one of the bravest men of all time, and when the marshal asked him in surprise the reason for his visit, the colonel replied: ‘Marshal, if Colonel Barguelot has decided to go for a walk in a forest, not even fifty thousand Russians can make him change his mind.’

EPILOGUE

OF the four hundred thousand men of the Grande Armée who took part in this campaign, three hundred thousand perished or were taken prisoner. This disaster marked the beginning of the decline of Napoleon’s reign. The Russians also lost more than three hundred thousand combatants (half of them because of the winter) but were able to recover from such a catastrophe.

Margont survived. He had great difficulty convincing Prince Eugène that Colonel Pirgnon was the man he had been looking for. The deranged Pole accused of Élisa Lasquenet’s murder was freed. A few days later, Margont was promoted to lieutenant-colonel, cheerfully leap-frogging the rank of major, for ‘his heroic action in the fighting at the Berezina’. He did not have time to go to Warsaw because the Emperor was already reorganising his forces in the knowledge that Prussia and a large part of Germany were going to take advantage of his weakened state to rise up against him.

Colonel Barguelot, who had proved himself a coward at the Moskva but a hero at the Berezina, was not relieved of his command and regained the confidence of his regiment.

Colonel Delarse also survived. Ironically, he attended a Mass held in memory of several deceased officers, some of whom had refused to put him in charge of a regiment because they thought his days were numbered. He was at last made a brigadier-general.

Saber was awarded the Légion d’Honneur for his action at the Berezina. The survivors of the 35th called him ‘honorary colonel of the 35th of the Line’. This rank was no more than a mark of affection but it enabled Saber to proclaim to all and sundry that, as he had always said he would, he had ended the campaign as a colonel.

Lefine, Piquebois and Fanselin also escaped death on Russian soil.

No one had time to rest because in April 1813 the Saxony campaign began.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The detective plot of this novel (characters and situations) is purely imaginary.

The 9th Infantry Regiment of the Line was in fact commanded by Colonel de Vautré; the 35th Infantry Regiment of the Line by Colonel Penant; and the 3rd Italian Infantry Regiment of the Line by Colonel Lévie. General Huard had only one aide-de-camp, Captain Cogniard.

Any similarity between the fictional characters of this novel and people who really existed is entirely accidental.

APPENDIX 1

Composition of the French Army at the beginning of the

Russian Campaign

Emperor Napoleon I

Prince Murat is Lieutenant-General

Emperor’s Household

General Staff of the Grande Armée

General Administration of the Grande Armée

Imperial Guard (30,000 men)

I Corps (Marshal Davout) (70,000)

II Corps (Marshal Oudinot) (40,000)

III Corps (Marshal Ney) (35,000)

IV Corps (Prince Eugène) (45,000)

V Corps (General Poniatowski) (35,000)

VI Corps (General Gouvion-Saint-Cyr) (23,000)

VII Corps (General Reynier) (18,000)

VIII Corps (King Jérôme Bonaparte) (16,000)

X Corps (Marshal Macdonald) (30,000)

Prussian Corps (von Grawert) (17,000)

Austrian Corps (Prince Swartzenberg) (30,000)

I Reserve Cavalry Corps (General Nansouty) (12,000)

II Reserve Cavalry Corps (General Montbrun) (11,000)

III Reserve Cavalry Corps (General Grouchy) (7,000)

IV Reserve Cavalry Corps (General de La Tour Maubourg) (6,000)

Grand Artillery and Engineering Park

IX Corps (Marshal Victor) (25,000) and XI Corps (Marshal Augereau) (45,000) were held in reserve in Germany and would not become involved until the end of the campaign.

In total about 400,000 soldiers and 1,200 cannon directly took part in the campaign.

(The numbers given are intended for guidance only and vary considerably according to sources but the overall figure of 400,000 men is accepted almost unanimously by historians.)

APPENDIX 2

Detailed Composition of IV Corps

(or Prince Eugène’s Army) (45,000 men)

Prince Eugène de Beauharnais

General Staff

13th Division (General Delzons)

1st Brigade (General Huard)

8th Light Regiment

84th Regiment of the Line

1st Croat Regiment

2nd Brigade (General Roussel)

92nd Regiment of the Line

106th Regiment of the Line

Artillery

Engineers

14th Division (General Broussier)

1st Brigade (General de Sivray)

9th Regiment of the Line

18th Light Regiment

2nd Brigade (General Alméras)

Joseph Napoleon Spanish Regiment

35th Regiment of the Line

3rd Brigade (General Pastol)

53rd Regiment of the Line

Artillery

Engineers

15th Division (or Italian Division) (General Pino)

1st Brigade (General Fontana)

1st Light Regiment

2nd Regiment of the Line

2nd Brigade (General de Vaudoncourt)

Dalmatian Regiment

3rd Light Regiment

3rd Brigade (General Dembrowski)

3rd Regiment of the Line

Artillery

Engineers

Light Cavalry Division (General d’Ornano)

12th Brigade (General Ferrière)

9th Regiment of Mounted Chasseurs

19th Regiment of Mounted Chasseurs

13th Brigade (General Villata)

2nd Regiment of Italian Mounted Chasseurs

3rd Regiment of Italian Mounted Chasseurs

Italian Royal Guard

Guards of Honour

Royal Velites

Regiment of Grenadiers

Regiment of Conscripts

Dragoons of the Guard

Queen’s Dragoons

Foot Artillery

Artillery Reserve

Engineers

At the beginning of the campaign IV Corps was isolated and would meet up with the bulk of the army only after a few weeks.

APPENDIX 3

Composition of the Russian Armies at the beginning of the Russian Campaign

First Army (Army of the West)

General Prince Barclay de Tolly

(150,000)

Second Army (Army of the South)

General Prince Bagration

(65,000)

Reserve Army (Army of Galicia)

General Tormasov

(40,000)

Army of the Danube

Admiral Chichagov

(55,000)

Army of Finland

General Steingell

(15,000)

Garrison of the City of Riga

(10,000)

In total about 400,000 if the soldiers in the garrisons and depots, and Cossack irregulars are included.