Текст книги "The Generals"
Автор книги: Simon Scarrow
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The Army of Italy moved forward towards Savona to mass in readiness for the campaign. Napoleon was in a fine mood; his time had come and soon his name would be known the length and breadth of Europe.The only lingering worry was the lack of precise intelligence about the main body of the Austrian army under General Beaulieu. He resolved to send Murat out with some light cavalry first thing in the morning to scout ahead and find the enemy. Then, eyes and limbs aching from his exertions, Napoleon climbed into his bed and fell asleep.
‘Sir!’ a voice called out, waking him. Napoleon rose stiffly and blinked his eyes. Major Junot was standing at the foot of the bed, still in his nightshirt. Behind him the first grey light of dawn was creeping across the roofs of Savona.
‘Junot, what the devil’s going on?’
‘It’s the Austrians.They’ve attacked one of Masséna’s brigades.’
‘Where?’ Napoleon threw back the bedclothes and climbed out of bed. ‘In what strength?’
‘Near Voltri. The report from Colonel Cervoni is that his brigade is holding them back but the enemy is arriving in greater numbers all the time. He says he will be forced to fall back before long.’
‘Voltri, eh?’ Napoleon closed his eyes and recalled the details of the map of the coastal area towards Genoa.Voltri was a port a short distance from Genoa where Masséna’s division was moving into position to attack. At once he grasped the danger. He opened his eyes and fixed his stare on Junot.
‘Get Berthier and the others in my office. Then send an alert to all divisional and brigade commanders. I want the army ready to march at once. Tell them the campaign begins today. Today, understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Junot saluted and left the room as Napoleon reached for his clothes.
When he entered his office, a staff sergeant was already laying out a map, and Napoleon ordered him to find some coffee and bread. Leaning over the map he found Voltri at once and nodded as he saw the disposition of his troops that Berthier had marked in the night before. The Austrians were attempting to drive towards the coast to cut Masséna off from the rest of the army. If they succeeded, the campaign was over before it had begun. Just as Napoleon’s career would be. On the other hand, he considered, unless the Austrians had changed their tactics the attack would proceed at a slow pace. Slow enough for Napoleon to turn the situation to his advantage.
Chapter 16
By the time the last of his senior staff officers had arrived Napoleon had formed his plan and was impatient to give the orders.
‘I assume you’ve all the heard the news. It seems that the Austrians have got more balls than we thought.’
The officers chuckled and Napoleon raised a hand to quieten them.
‘We have been saved the job of finding the Austrians, and it’s time to take the battle to them. Cervoni’s brigade is here.’ He tapped his finger on the map. ‘He’s holding his position at the moment, and buying us time to move into the attack. General La Harpe is the closest to the Austrians’ line of advance. Berthier, you will order him to attack at once.The Austrians will be forced to stop and turn to face the threat, which will free Masséna to march on their flank and rear.The rest of the army will be given orders to move up in support. Gentlemen, if we act swiftly, the Army of Italy will have its first victory of the campaign, courtesy of the Austrians. See to it. I’m riding ahead to join Cervoni. Send any messages to me there.’
As soon as the officers had been dismissed Napoleon called for a horse to be readied. Taking a handful of dragoons with him, he galloped down the coast road towards Voltri. He soon caught up with the rear elements of Masséna’s division quick-marching to join their commander and strike at the Austrians. Some of the men cheered as he rode past and Napoleon raised his hat in acknowledgement. Then, four miles short of Voltri, he came to the junction that led up into the hills where Cervoni’s brigade was fighting the Austrian vanguard. Already he could hear the faint boom of cannon and the crackle of musket fire echoing from the hills. Napoleon kicked his heels in, urging his mount up the track, and the dragoons struggled to keep up with their general.
As the small party of horsemen came up on to the ridge, they had a clear view down the far slope which dropped steeply towards a mountain stream crossed by a narrow stone bridge. Cervoni’s men had formed up in solid ranks to contest the crossing. Ahead of them, clustered amongst rock outcroppings, were small parties of light infantry, keeping up a steady fire on the Austrians on the far side of the stream. Beyond the bridge, a battalion of the white-uniformed enemy stood in neatly dressed ranks, busily loading their weapons and then bringing them up to fire in company volleys at the French skirmishers as if they were on a parade ground. Each time the Austrian muskets rose to the shoulder the French ducked down, and nearly every shot rattled harmlessly off the rocks or whistled overhead. By contrast, the irregular fire of the skirmishers was whittling down the Austrians. Behind them a battery of artillery was unlimbering on a patch of even ground close to the stream, and beyond stood a long column of infantry waiting for the order to force their way across the bridge.
Colonel Cervoni had spotted his commander and trotted his horse up to Napoleon. He saluted. ‘Good morning, sir.’
Napoleon nodded. ‘Better than we could have hoped for. Must be three or four thousand men over there. I think you’ve managed to find the Austrian army for me, Cervoni. What’s the situation?’
Cervoni turned to look down the slope as he stroked his stubbled chin. ‘We’ve been falling back by battalions. Each time they’ve deployed just like that, as if they were following a manual and had all the time in the world. Our skirmishers have been shooting them up until their guns open fire, then withdrawing.’
‘What are your losses?’
‘No more than fifty men so far. A fraction of what they’ve lost, sir.’
There was a dull roar from the far side of the stream and Napoleon turned to see a puff of smoke swirling in front of one of the guns of the Austrian battery. Shortly afterwards a divot of grass and stone was thrown into the air a short distance in front of the foremost of Cervoni’s line companies.
‘I’m afraid that’s about to change,’ Napoleon said quietly. ‘You must hold this ridge as long as possible. The Austrians must not reach the coast road. Augereau’s division is moving forward to attack the Austrian column, and Masséna is marching round to the east.’ Napoleon gestured to the hills on his right. ‘But they won’t come up for two or three hours. You have to hold this position until then. Whatever the cost.’
Cervoni nodded. ‘I understand, sir.’
Napoleon looked over the ground below him.‘Where are your guns? You’re supposed to have two six-pounders attached to your brigade.’
‘There, sir.’ Cervoni smiled as he indicated a thicket of reeds a hundred and fifty yards from the bridge. When Napoleon squinted he could just make out the crews crouched round two dark shapes. Cervoni explained. ‘I had them smear the guns in mud so they wouldn’t show.They have orders not to fire until the head of the column is on our side of the bridge.’
Napoleon nodded approvingly.‘That’ll be a nasty surprise.You can return to your battle, Cervoni. I’ll watch from here for a while.’
‘Yes, sir.’
They exchanged a salute and Cervoni wheeled his horse round and trotted back to his small cluster of staff officers. Now the Austrian guns had found their range and a well-aimed shot ploughed a bloody furrow through the centre of the nearest company. More solid shot followed and several men were swept away before the order to take cover reached them. The enemy gunners reloaded with grapeshot and trained the guns on the skirmishers covering the bridge. Then the Austrian drums beat the advance and the light company peeled aside to let the main column approach the bridge.They came on at a steady, measured pace, up to the parapet and tramping over the slight hump in the middle of the bridge. They were led by a slender officer who rested his sword on his shoulder as he led his men towards the near bank of the stream.
The French gunners rose up, still half hidden by the reeds, and two tongues of flame ripped out, disgorging two cones of lead shot into the face of the Austrian column. The guns had been well laid and almost every man on the bridge was cut down to lie in twisted heaps, splattered with blood. The front of the column halted, dumbstruck, and then bulged forward as the men behind pressed into them. The men nearest the hidden guns had nowhere else to go and stumbled over the bodies of their comrades as they pressed on over the bridge.
Cervoni’s guns discharged more grapeshot, adding further carnage to the scene on the bridge. The commander of the Austrian battery was frantically giving orders to his men to redirect their fire on to the French guns but they were obscured by the bridge and the gunners could not see their target. A third blast of grapeshot decided the issue and the Austrian column backed away, leaving at least forty of their comrades littered across the small span of ancient stones.
‘Fine work.’ Napoleon smiled with satisfaction as he turned his horse back towards the ridge and the road that led to his headquarters. Berthier was waiting for him when Napoleon reached Savona shortly before noon.
‘What news?’
‘Augereau’s division are moving towards Montenotte, General. His forces have been sighted by the Austrians and the enemy are already turning to face him.’
‘Excellent!’ Napoleon slapped his hand down on the map. ‘And Masséna?’
‘Cutting round their flank, as ordered. He estimated that he would be ready to strike no later than four o’clock.’
‘Then we should have trapped our Austrian friends very nicely.’ Napoleon smiled excitedly. ‘Our first victory!’
It was not until the following morning that the scale of the Austrian defeat at Montenotte was evident. Over fifteen hundred Austrians had been killed and wounded and another two and a half thousand were taken prisoner.The survivors fled towards the town of Dego, abandoning cannon, muskets and other equipment. The French seized the enemy’s weapons eagerly. Over a thousand men in Augereau’s division had had no muskets and these now shouldered Austrian weapons, ready for use against their former owners.
Napoleon seized the advantage at once, urging Masséna’s columns forward in pursuit of the enemy, while Augereau and Serurier fell on the Piedmontese army and drove them from one town after another over the next ten days, until on the evening of 23 April the French army was on the road to Turin. A farmhouse had been found for the general’s headquarters and as Napoleon sat hunched over a quick meal of cold chicken and bread it began to rain, the drops rattling on the roof tiles overhead. The door opened and Junot was briefly outlined against the steel glint of a curtain of rain as he ducked under the lintel and closed the door behind him. He stood dripping on the stone floor and smiled at his commander.
Napoleon set down the hunk of bread in his hand, and quickly swallowed. ‘What’s the matter, Junot?’
‘There’s a Piedmontese colonel standing outside. He carries a message from General Colli.’
‘And?’
‘General Colli is requesting an armistice.’
‘An armistice?’ Napoleon pushed his plate aside and folded his hands together, his mind racing as he considered the implications of the offer. He nodded at a spare chair on the other side of the plain country table and Junot sat down.
‘What have you said to him, Junot?’
‘As we were walking up to headquarters he asked me if I thought you would accept. I said nothing.’
‘You didn’t speak to him?’
‘Not a word.’ Junot shrugged. ‘I thought it was presumptuous of him even to ask.’
‘And so it was!’ Napoleon laughed. ‘Well then, Colli wants to break off the fighting, does he?’
‘It’s not difficult to see why, sir. We’ve been snapping at their heels since we turned on them after Montenotte.They’re hungry and exhausted and need a breathing space. Same as our men. We could use the time to regroup.’
‘Yes, but they don’t know that.’ Napoleon looked up sharply. ‘This colonel, was he blindfolded as he passed through our lines?’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘Very well then, you’d better tell him that I reject the offer.’
Junot looked surprised, and hesitated a moment before he spoke. ‘May I ask why, sir?’
‘Junot, the fact that they have approached us for an armistice means they must think they have more to gain from it than we do. Turin is two days’ march away. Why give them a chance to fortify it? Let’s push on, and then offer them an armistice on our terms. Now, go and tell him.’
Over the next two days the French threw themselves after the retreating Piedmontese, driving them back from one village to the next and cutting them off from the Austrian army. Now it was Napoleon’s turn to offer an armistice. General Colli reluctantly conceded the key fortress towns of Cuneo, Ceva and Tortona and signed the documents that Junot had drawn up.
The same night, Napoleon wrote a quick note to Josephine and gave it to Colonel Murat to take to Paris along with the provisional terms of the armistice for the Directors to consider. Then he sat down to compose the following morning’s order of the day. Napoleon paused to take in the speed at which the campaign had moved. He had never felt such a sense of achievement and he was proud of his men. Yet, even now, he looked ahead. He dipped his pen into the inkwell and began to write.
Soldiers! In fifteen days you have taken twenty-one colours and fifty-five pieces of artillery, seized several fortresses and the richest lands of Piedmont. You have captured fifteen thousand prisoners and inflicted more than ten thousand casualties. The success I promised you has been fulfilled, yet this is only the beginning . . .
Chapter 17
‘When will those damned Austrians turn and fight us!’ Napoleon fumed, glaring at his senior officers by the light of the lanterns inside his tent. ‘Every time we advance General Beaulieu falls back behind another tributary of the Po. We need to beat him decisively, yet all he offers us is one rearguard action after another.’
Masséna stretched his shoulders and replied, ‘Then we’ll just have to destroy them one rearguard at a time, sir.’
‘That is not remotely funny, Masséna,’ Napoleon snapped. ‘They are falling back on their lines of communication, while we are extending ours.They grow stronger all the time and our men are tired and many of our battalions are well under strength.Time is on their side. A few more fights like today’s effort and we will be ripe for an Austrian counter-attack.’
He was silent for a moment, reflecting on the bloody crossing of the River Adda at Lodi that had taken most of the day. Several times the grenadiers had advanced towards the bridge along a narrow causeway under murderous fire from the far bank and it was not until after six in the evening that his men had broken through and the French army had started to cross in strength.The pursuit of the Austrians had continued until darkness fell, and only then had the French made camp for the night. By the time the headquarters tents had been set up it was past midnight and the officers around Napoleon were bleary-eyed and exhausted. Like their men, he reflected. Well, it was too bad. The impetus had to be maintained to force the Austrians to turn and fight, and if they didn’t then they must be chased right out of Italy, leaving only the massive fortress at Mantua to deal with. That could be starved into submission by a covering force while Napoleon led the rest of the army into the Tyrol. The Austrians would then be caught between the Army of Italy and the Army of the Rhine, which even now should be pushing towards Austria on the far side of the Alps, according to the Directory’s grand strategy.
He rubbed his eyes and blinked, fighting back his desire for sleep. Then he pulled a map towards him and pointed out the next river barrier.
‘If things run true to form, Beaulieu will fall back behind the Oglio. If we can force him back from that line, then we can cut off Mantua.’
Junot cleared his throat. ‘Is that wise, sir? Shouldn’t we consolidate our gains first? Now that Beaulieu has retreated, Milan must fall to us. Our troops need to rest. And, as you pointed out, thanks to the length of our supply lines we’re running out of powder and rations. But most of all we need more men, sir.’
‘He’s right,’ Serurier added. ‘We’ve been promised reinforcements for months. So far I’ve not had one man to replace my losses. Sir, you said that there would be more men.’
‘I’ve written to the Directory to request reinforcements on more occasions than I care to remember,’ Napoleon said wearily. ‘You would think that after all we have achieved they would give us the tools to win further victories. But it seems that the Directory has decided that all available men will be sent to the Army of the Rhine.’
‘That’s not quite what I’ve heard,’ Masséna growled. ‘We’ve been sent reinforcements, but that bastard Kellermann is creaming them off for the Army of the Alps as they march through his area of operations.’
‘That is a rumour,’ Napoleon said firmly. ‘Those men must have been sent to him, not us.’
‘You really think so, sir?’ Masséna smiled bitterly.
‘I know it. Kellermann is a man of honour. And he’s intelligent enough to realise that we need reinforcements far more than he does.’
‘Then why is he being reinforced and not us?’ Masséna asked.
‘Politics, that’s why.’ Junot sneered. ‘This was supposed to be a sideshow to the main thrust across the Rhine.’ He turned towards Napoleon. ‘Sir, that’s why they picked you for this command. After the victory over the royalists you became an embarrassment to the politicians.They needed you out of Paris, and the Army of Italy should have been the graveyard of your ambitions. The trouble is you keep winning battles and their plans have misfired. That is why we receive no help from them.’
Napoleon thought for a moment. It could be true. But surely not even a venal politician would put his own interests above the interests of his country? He had met and mingled with the Directors, and had sensed the ideals that had drawn them to the revolution and the need to build a new France. But it seemed that time had eroded those aspirations. He frowned. When the war was over, then maybe he would return to Paris and do what he could to force idealism back into public affairs. That was the future, he reminded himself. For the present he had more pressing problems to deal with. He looked at Junot.
‘It is time we began to show the government why they should be reinforcing and resupplying us.’
‘Sir?’
‘What is it that our politicians want above all else, right now?’
‘To beat the enemy and end the war,’ Junot replied.
Napoleon shook his head. ‘You are thinking too much like a soldier.’
Masséna chuckled. ‘They want money. The treasury is empty, and gold and silver are the sinews of war. Not to mention politics.’
Napoleon nodded and laughed. ‘And you, my dear Masséna, are thinking too much like a politician.’
Massena shrugged. ‘No man is perfect, General.’
‘Money.’ Napoleon slapped his hand down on the table. ‘Money is what they want and that is what we shall give them. Once it starts to flow into their coffers then we shall receive what we need. Junot, first thing in the morning, I want you to send messages to all our agents in the north of Italy.They are to assess the fortunes of every city and town. They are to try to find out how much is held in coin and how much might be raised from loans. We shall, of course, negotiate the most favourable terms when the time comes. I’ve never known a sword at the throat of a banker fail to produce fair repayment terms.’
The officers laughed, warming to the idea, and Napoleon continued.‘Send the messages in code and have them report back by the end of May.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Meanwhile, we’ll take Milan and give the men a brief rest. The Austrians aren’t going anywhere for now. We’ll march on them again once the men are fed and in good spirits. That’s enough business for tonight. Berthier will send you your orders at first light. Good night, gentlemen.’
They rose from their chairs and filed out of the room. Napoleon sat and stared at the map. The Austrians had retreated yet again, but they were running out of space to retreat into. Some time, in the coming weeks or months, there would be a reckoning. When it came, it was vital that the Army of Italy was strong enough to face a hard battle and win.
There was a knock on the door frame and Napoleon looked up to see Berthier holding a waterproofed document bag.
‘Dispatches and papers from Paris, sir. Will you read them now, or wait until morning?’
‘Now, please, Berthier.’
‘Yes, sir.’ His chief of staff crossed to the table and unfastened the straps. Inside was a carefully wrapped bundle of newspapers, a sealed packet from the War Office and a letter addressed to him in Josephine’s hand. Napoleon warmed at the sight and he instinctively picked up the letter and ran his fingers gently over the writing. He smiled. It was typical of her to use her contacts to get a letter included in the official dispatch bag. For a moment he lingered over the letter, then set it aside and reached for the packet and broke the seal.
There were two documents inside, one from Carnot at the War Office and the other from Barras on behalf of the Directory. He read Carnot’s letter first. The War Office was unable to send the requested reinforcements to the Army of Italy for the present, but assured General Bonaparte that he would be given priority the instant reinforcements were no longer needed on the Rhine. The letter concluded with an intelligence report revealing that Beaulieu was shortly to be joined by fifteen thousand fresh troops. Napoleon felt a cold rage flow through his veins. With fifteen thousand fresh men, he himself could sweep the enemy from Italy and chase them all the way back across the Tyrol to Vienna. He wondered, idly, who constituted the greater danger to his army. The Austrian forces, or the politicians back in Paris?
He opened the letter from Barras, glanced over the usual official preambles and started reading the substance of the wishes of his political masters. When he got to the end he lowered the document on to the table, his hand trembling with anger.
‘Damn them,’ he muttered through clenched teeth. ‘Damn them all.’
Berthier stood silently, waiting for his superior to elucidate on the contents of the letter. At length Napoleon looked up, his brow creased into a furious frown.
‘It seems that the Directory wants to split the command of the Army of Italy.’
‘Sir?’
Napoleon stabbed a finger at the text. ‘The Directory has ordered me to hand over half of the army to General Kellermann. I am not to continue the offensive. I am not to invade the Tyrol. I am not even permitted to occupy Milan. Those operations are to be carried out by Kellermann. Instead,’ he continued icily, ‘I am to take two divisions south to apply pressure to the papal states and the Kingdom of Naples to make peace with France. It seems that our leaders want to cut me down to size.’ He shook his head as he glanced at the letter again. ‘Apply pressure – what the hell does that mean? I think these politicians must mistake me for a fool.’
There was a short silence before Berthier nervously cleared his throat. ‘Why is that, sir?’
‘The phrase is far too vague, don’t you agree? What kind of pressure am I supposed to apply? Diplomatic or military? If I apply the former and fail to secure an agreement then the Directors will say I should have used force. If I use force and fail, or if I antagonise other states in Italy, then they will say I was exceeding my orders and should have negotiated. So I must succeed or be damned. Of course, that’s assuming that I do decide to relinquish half my army to Kellermann.’ Napoleon looked up, eyes shifting rapidly as he examined the map on the table. His mind was racing.
If the Army of Italy moved swiftly enough he could seize Milan and Pavia. Once those cities were in French hands Napoleon could begin to exact loans and ‘donations’ from the wealthier classes, and perhaps some of the neighbouring states and principalities. Why stop at money, he reflected. The lands of northern Italy were awash with art treasures. Once the Directory received this booty they would think twice about replacing the man who was feeding badly needed wealth into France’s empty treasury. He would gamble on that. Meanwhile he would also offer them a more reasoned and acceptable case for retaining him as the sole commander of the army.
‘Berthier, send me my secretary.’
When Bourrienne had set out several sheets of paper and the inkwell and readied his pen, Napoleon began to dictate a reply to the Directors. He was careful to ensure that his tone was respectful and unemotional. It was essential that his arguments be seen as objective, well reasoned and in the vital interests of France. As the early hours dragged by Bourrienne scratched out the rough draft of the letter. Napoleon emphasised, as forcefully as he dared, that unity of command is the most important thing in war. While the Army of Italy was under one general it could be wielded in the most effective manner. He was careful not to disparage Kellermann, who still basked in the afterglow of being hailed as the saviour of the revolution following his victory at Valmy. Napoleon drew a deep breath as he dictated the concluding section.
‘General Kellermann will command the army as well as me, for no one is more convinced than I am that the victories are due to the courage and audacity of the men.’ He smiled at that touch: underscoring his modesty with praise for the revolutionary zeal of his men.Then he continued, ‘However, I consider that uniting Kellermann and myself in Italy will put all our gains at risk. I believe that one bad general is better than two good ones.’
He nodded contentedly at this conclusion and looked over at Bourrienne. ‘There, that should do it. Draft a fine version and bring it here as soon as it’s done.’
‘Yes, General.’ Bourrienne snapped the lid of his inkwell closed and began to clean the nib of his pen on an old rag. ‘Do you want me to have a courier prepared to carry it to Paris?’
Napoleon thought a moment and then shook his head. ‘No, we’ll wait a few days. I want the news of any booty that I have seized to arrive close on the heels of this.’
‘Very well, sir.’ Bourrienne tucked the papers under his arm, bowed his head and left Napoleon alone.
For a long time he was still, staring at the map as his mind concentrated on the letter he had received from the Directory. It had come as a shock to him that the government was so insecure that it considered him a threat. Napoleon had been aware of some of the bad feeling directed towards him after the crushing of the royalist uprising, but had assumed that any jealousy of his acclaim could be countered by his own unswerving loyalty and good service. If this was how those in power in Paris treated successful generals, then perhaps Napoleon would be better off campaigning as far from the French capital as this war could take him.
For now he would have to fight the politicians in Paris to retain his command of the Army of Italy, every bit as hard as he had to fight the Austrians. A knife in the back would finish him just as surely as a bullet in the chest. He sighed wearily. This was no way to wage war. But unless he learned to fight on both fronts he could not hope to win the renown and respect that he craved.
The coming weeks were going to be more vital than ever. He must risk everything, even his life, to make the Directors believe that he was irreplaceable.
