The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware (45 page)

Of the five hundred thousand men and women who had crossed the Niemen toward the end of June, fewer than one in five were destined to live to recross it in December.

On the advance from Kovno to Moscow, the Grand Army had cut a great swathe through the country, leaving not a thing to eat behind it and very little shelter. But the swathe did not extend for much more than twenty miles on either side of the highway, owing to the limited distances that forays of horsemen could cover and be back by night with the main force, secure from capture by the Cossacks. Well aware of this, the Russians had refrained from scorching the earth outside the limits within which Napoleon's troops could commit their depredations.

The Emperor had therefore decided that, instead of retreating by the way he had come, he would march south-east to Kalouga, as that would enable the army to march through unspoiled country, where there were still inhabited towns and villages, hay-filled barns and, with luck, a number of horses and cattle.

The thought of new territory to plunder greatly cheered the men, but the Generals and Staff were not so happy. They knew that Kutuzov's main army lay out on that flank and, only the previous day, Murat's cavalry had suffered a severe defeat in the neighbourhood of Tarutino, which was not far off the route they were to take. But, after five weeks of inactivity, everyone seemed to have taken new heart at again being on the move.

Napoleon, riding his grey, wearing the plain uniform
of the Guides and his undecorated tricorne hat, rode between two battalions of the Guard, immediately followed by his staff. Behind them, under Duroc's quartermaster, came the headquarters' baggage train. In addition to its own wagons, a number of others had been commandeered to carry the trophies, loot collected by the staff and a big supply of food reserved for the entourage. A number of them had also secured small vehicles to transport their personal belongings. These followed the wagons with, among them, Mary on her mount and Greuze walking beside the mule.

At midday the Emperor, his people and the Guard halted for a picnic meal at the roadside, clearing the highway for the endless stream of mixed units to continue their march. As Roger watched them going by, he decided they were in better trim than he had judged them to be earlier that morning. Although, at a casual glance, they had the appearance of an incredible rabble, their officers had got them into some sort of order, so that different units were at least distinguishable and, if attacked, could swiftly be called on to leave temporarily the motley collection of vehicles carrying their loot, supplies and women, and get into fighting formations. In general, too, the health of the men appeared better than it had after their long march to Moscow and the terrible battle of Borodino. The majority of those whose wounds had not been too serious for them to stagger as far as the city had since recovered. While in Moscow, for the first few weeks they had enjoyed an abundance of food and, even recently, their rations had been reasonably adequate. Rest and relaxation had put new spirit into them. Many of the groups were singing as they marched and, as they passed the Emperor, they cheered him with something of their old enthusiasm.

The worst weakness of the army was its shortage of horses. Roger noted that in most cases artillery units had
had to leave behind their second-line ammunition limbers and, in many cases, the guns and first-line limbers were drawn by only four or two horses, instead of the normal six. A great part of the cavalry, too, was no longer mounted, but now sharing the lot of the foot-slogging infantry. However, as relays of remounts were constantly being sent up from Poland, at least the French cavalrymen could hope to be in the saddle again by the time they reached Smolensk.

On their first night out of Moscow, the miles-long column bivouacked at the roadside and had an opportunity to try out such arrangements as they had made to secure for themselves as much comfort as possible. The Emperor sent Roger and his other A.D.C.s to ride some way along the road and see how the men were faring. In the neighbourhood there were many woods of pine and larch, among which fuel could be collected, so the hundreds of bivouac fires blazed merrily, and the A.D.C.s were able to report that morale was good; also that nearly everywhere, in addition to the rations with which the troops had been issued, they had brought with them stocks of food of their own.

But early in the morning the news that the staff had feared came in. Strong Russian forces, possibly Kutuzov's main army, were advancing toward them, so the Emperor, being most averse to fighting a battle at that moment, sent orders to the head of the column that it should leave the road for Kalouga and turn off to Malo-Jaroslavitz. Nevertheless, many attacks by Cossacks had to be beaten off, and it was clear that they were not going to be allowed to continue their march in immunity.

Then, on the 25th, Kutuzov launched General Dokhturov's division against the centre of the marching column as it was passing through Malo-Jaroslavitz. The French were taken by surprise and the action very nearly proved fatal to the Emperor. Early that morning he had ridden
out, accompanied by some fifty officers, to make a personal reconnaissance. Suddenly a horde of Cossacks broke from a wood, yelling their war-cry, ‘
Hourra! Hourra
!', and came galloping toward the little cavalcade.

Napoleon had never lacked for courage. He drew his sword and his companions followed his example. Next moment the Cossacks were upon them. The French were outnumbered three to one. There ensued a wild mêlée. Several men on both sides were killed or wounded. Roger escaped being run through with a lance only by throwing himself violently sideways. As he did so, he slashed out with his sword and severed the Cossack's arm at the elbow. Rapp was less fortunate. A lance dealt him his twenty-third wound and he was thrown from his horse. The fight raged furiously; but only for a few minutes. The Hetman of the Cossacks sighted a convoy of wagons in the near distance. Having failed to recognise the Emperor and realise what a prize he was forgoing, he called his men off and led them toward the wagons, more eager for loot than slaughter. At that moment, having heard the shouts of the combatants, two squadrons of Chasseurs and a troop of the Cavalry of the Guard came charging up. They fell upon the Cossacks and routed them. But the battle was on. Dokhturov was attacking all along the line.

For several hours the units of the Grand Army in the area were in grave peril; then Eugene arrived with his Italians and was followed by Davout. By then Kutuzov had brought up his main forces and a general engagement took place. All day there was desperate fighting. The battle continued until long after dark, and it was not until close on midnight that the French succeeded in driving the Russians out of Malo-Jaroslavitz.

Frantic with anxiety, Roger went in search of Mary. At last he found her. She and young Greuze had taken refuge under their cart. Twice they had been charged
over. Only one Russian had spotted and attempted to kill them; but Greuze had brought up his musket and shot him dead at close quarters.

The Emperor was now faced with a question of paramount importance. Should he renew the battle next day and gamble everything on succeeding in breaking through to Kalouga—or should he abandon that route and take another?

It was known that General Tchitchagov had now brought up his army from the lower Danube and this reinforcement made the Russians much superior in numbers. On the morning of the 26th, Bessières went out on a reconnaissance. His report was pessimistic and decided the Emperor to retreat north on Mojaisk. The decision was fatal. It drove the last nail into the coffin of the Grand Army.

In taking it, Napoleon had supposed that, though he must abandon the advantage of marching through country that had not been scorched, he would be compensated by the depots of stores that he believed to have been established in every town and village through which the army had marched to Moscow. Throughout August, September and the first half of October, thousands of head of cattle, quintals of wheat and tons of flour had been despatched from Poland. By this time they should have been available at intervals all along the road, in readiness to supply the army should it be forced to retreat. But many of the depots had never been filled, and many more were empty. Millions of pounds' worth of supplies had simply vanished.

In many cases they had been carried off by raiding Cossacks before they reached their destination; but there had been a far more serious drain upon them. During the advance, the Grand Army had left in its wake tens of thousands of wounded and deserters. The wounded had had to be fed, and the deserters were determined not to
starve as long as their weapons could obtain for them food and liquor. As bands of them had made their way toward Poland, they had attacked the depots and carried off their contents. The Grand Army, still eighty thousand strong, and making up for the casualties it sustained by being joined by the troops who had guarded the lines of communication, must now retrace its steps along the scorched-earth swathe in which neither food nor fodder was to be found.

Until the last days of October, the weather remained sunny; but then the skies became overcast, a biting wind got up that swept across the plain and the first flurries of snow gave a warning of what was to come. At Mojaisk the head of the column debouched on to the road by which it had marched to Moscow, and turned west toward Poland. Forty miles further on, the army suffered the most terrible blow possible to its morale. It had to cross the battlefield of Borodino.

For miles round lay the evidence of the cost of the Emperor's insatiable ambition: the price that comrades had paid and that, at any time, each man of them might be called on himself to pay. In every direction, as far as the eye could see, the grassy slopes, furrowed by countless cannon balls, were dotted with thousands upon thousands of seven-week-old corpses of men and horses, and below the great redoubt lay a solid, tangled mass of them. Lacking legs, feet, arms or heads, with broken skulls or disembowelled, their shrunken lips drawn back in hideous grimaces, their eye sockets black, empty pits, clusters of white worms feeding on their rotting flesh, they lay there in the awesome stillness of death, beneath a dark and threatening sky.

Even the most hardened of the old ‘moustaches' who had followed the young Napoleon in Italy and Egypt and later fought at Marengo, Wagram, Jena, Austerlitz, Eylau and Friedland, had never seen such appalling
destruction: so many smashed guns, overturned limbers, shattered wagons, abandoned muskets, swords, lances and pistols, or bloated horses, the ground beneath them dyed red with their blood. And the unburied humans were not alone in silently demanding vengeance for the cutting short of their lives. The rains had washed away the soil from the shallow graves in which the minority had been hastily interred. Among the Utter of cuirasses, helmets, dolmans,
sabretaches
, saddlebags, knapsacks and entrenching tools, from the earth there stuck up solitary protesting arms, odd legs and grinning skulls.

The Grand Army passed on its way with bowed heads, heart-stricken, weeping and with many of the men vomiting. Soon afterwards the first snowflakes drifted down.

Death now began to stalk the endless, snake-like column. Horses rather than men were the first to be stricken, because, while no fresh supplies were obtainable for either, there were very few wagons containing fodder and this small quantity was reserved for the mounts of the senior officers. Before leaving Moscow the troops had scoured the city and brought with them all the livestock they could lay hands on: pigs, goats, tame rabbits and crates of geese, ducks and chickens; but these had now all been killed, cooked and eaten. A daily ration continued to be issued to all the men, although it had become a meagre one; and those who carried private supplies of food were now jealously hoarding them, so everyone was hungry. In consequence, whenever a horse staggered and, its knees giving way under it, slumped to the ground, a score of the nearest men fell upon it. With knives and bayonets, they hacked away the flesh before the body could become frozen by the fierce cold, and caught in their pannikins every drop of blood.

By the beginning of November there were sufficient biscuits left only to provide a small ration for the Guard, and horseflesh had become the staple diet of the army.
Berthier ordered all the cavalry that remained up to the van, so that no horse should die in the rear and remain uneaten. Through drinking horse-blood, the beards that had sprouted on the faces of the men were soon stained red.

Apart from brewing tea, it was not until they actually began to feel the pangs of hunger that Roger permitted any of the private supplies he had brought to be broached for himself, Mary and Greuze. Moreover, much as he disliked horseflesh, whenever he could secure a hunk of it, he made Mary stew it for their supper, in order that their stock of special food should last longer. For such grim meals he was now thankful that he had bought the big slab of salt, as it counteracted the unpleasant, sweetish flavour of the meat.

The temperature had dropped to five degrees below, and was dropping further every day. The wind howled over the flat, desolate countryside, searing any portion of exposed flesh like fire. The flurries of snow increased to storms and, as each ceased, the sky was blue-black, with more snow to come. The ground became one great sheet of white, with patches of snow-covered trees in the distance. At night the men sat on their knapsacks, crouching over their bivouac fires, worn-out and wretched; then slept either huddled in groups for mutual warmth, or sitting with their backs propped against the wheels of vehicles, for fear that if they lay down in the snow they would never wake up.

Owing to Roger's foresight, he and his two companions fared far better than the great majority. He had given his own sleeping bag to Greuze, and slept with Mary in the big one he had had made from the two fur carriage rugs. As a staff officer he still received a daily ration of cereal, a small portion of beef or pork, a potato and sometimes a carrot or other vegetable. The cereal he gave to the mule, in order to keep it alive as long as possible. The meat
and vegetables went into the pot when they had a stew of horseflesh. On other nights Mary made a porridge out of their oatmeal or the flour that was issued to the N.C.O.s and men in the Emperor's entourage, and they nibbled a small piece of preserved fruit or marzipan, slowly so as to prolong the pleasure it gave them.