Chapter Seven
A Visitor and a Flame
"Get ready, we are retreating," shouted Sergeant LaGrosse. At once the troops under his command began packing their kit and personal belongings. Duroc did what he always did at the start of every day, or every time they were ordered to move; he checked the package stored at the bottom of his knapsack. Tightly bound inside a canvas cloth and protected by oilskin against the water and weather they had been encountering, were the last remaining bones of Saint Hugh and the now somewhat ragged sheepskin parchment that proved what they were. He touched the package reverently, although for many weeks now, he had not felt the need for their healing powers.
With practiced ease the Grandvillers II Company gathered together their equipment and supplies. It only took moments to check their muskets, which for days now had not left their sides, run a thumb over the flint in the firing mechanism (flints had a nasty habit of being lost or stolen, and punishment for a non-working weapon was severe). Personal belongings often contained loot picked up along their march, but these soldiers had not yet encountered rich pickings. Never the less, more than one member of the II Company could be seen placing a few coins inside their shirts and down by their belts.
But even after a week of re-supply there was not much to pack away. Food was still short and boots nonexistent. The only item not in short supply was gunpowder; few muskets had been fired since they left France, and Duroc had never yet fired his gun in anger.
"This way, line up, march," came the orders and the II Company fell into position mechanically and without thought. For the last two days they had been occupying a high ridge of land that the Austrians called the Pratzen Plateau. From here it had been possible to look down on the village called Austerlitz and watch the Austrians moving troops along the road that came from Olmutz.
"Why are we moving, do you think?" Poulec asked Duroc as they marched down the steep sides of the Pratzen Plateau, "this high ground seems the best place for a battle."
Duroc thought for a moment, "Perhaps the Russians are to the north of us and we are getting to a place of safety." But he was only partially right. The Allies under the nominal command of the Russian Tzar Alexander were indeed closing in, but confusion in their command structure and the willingness of the Tzar to listen to bad advice was slowing down their progress. Also, the French Emperor wanted his enemies where he could see them, and few places near Austerliz were more visible than the Pratzen Plateau.
"Is this as far as we are going?"
Herbette grunted a reply, "Ask the Generals," and began looking for a way of drying his feet. The company and the rest of Soult's Corps had just crossed a stream that the Austrians called the Goldbach Brook. After marching down from the Plateau, they had crossed the stream and then been ordered to stop and take up positions. Sergeant LaGrosse was as mystified as anyone and went to see if he could find out why.
"Look there," a Sub-Lieutenant had told him, and LaGrosse had looked north along the side of the brook where Marshall Lannes was directing his III Division to take up similar positions, and then south where the St. Hilaire Division of their own IV Corps stretched out along the side of the brook and preparing to fight.
"This is it lads," the sergeant said gleefully as he rejoined his company, "the little Corsican is going to fight at last."
"Who?" asked Herbette with a sniff.
"Wait and see," grinned LaGrosse, "but mark my words, this is it. The whole army is getting into position along this river and the enemy will not be far behind."
They did not have to wait long. North of the Pratzen Plateau, on the west-east road to Olmutz, the first of the Allied soldiers began to appear, crawling with some difficulty as one group of soldiers would get in the way of the next group. They could not believe their luck. It appeared that the French Emperor had finally lost his nerve and had abandoned the high ground of the Plateau and was making a retreat. Anxiously, perhaps over anxiously, they paused in their advance and began a sideways occupation of the Pratzen, watched all the time by Napoleon and his troops beyond the Goldbach Brook.
That night Duroc and his friends were resting in a thatched cottage close to the brook when a cry rang out from the pickets.
"He comes, he comes!"
Staggering up from the fire, Duroc saw a shadowy band of horsemen approaching out of the darkness. "Long live the Emperor, Long live the Emperor," were the shouts that accompanied the group and the volume of cheers quickly rose as more and more of the soldiers recognized the small rider in the middle of the press. It was indeed the Emperor Napoleon.
Trees and the cloud covered darkness made it impossible to see the faces of the Emperor and his aides, so Duroc, without thinking, reached up and pulled a large handful of thatch from the cottage roof. This he thrust into the fire and pulled out a burning brand that gave off much more light. The horsemen came slowly along the lines and paused when the Emperor wished to address one of the officers or a group of the men.
"Tomorrow you will have been our Emperor for exactly one year," one yelled out, "we are you going to give you a big victory!" At which the Emperor smiled, slapped his thigh and reached for his snuff box.
"My friends, this would be the greatest gift you could give me. Together we will teach the Tzar a lesson!"
As he came to the IInd Company, Duroc held up his burning brand of thatch and joined in the cheering. Others copied the gesture, and they also grabbed straw and thatch to make torches. Soon the Emperor was surrounded by light and waved towards the men, who promptly redoubled the volume of their cheers. As he moved along and among the troops camping near the Goldbach Brook more of them took up Duroc's idea and began to light torches. Soon the whole valley was ablaze with light and high above them on the Pratzen Plateau, puzzled Austrian and Russian Generals tried to gauge its meaning. The consensus was that the French troops were packing up and retreating back to Brno.
It was cold the following morning, but not as cold as it had been during the previous week. Mud left the ground underfoot slippery and treacherous as the IInd Company prepared to fight. Nothing was visible as a thick fog filled the valley and rolled along the Goldbach Brook south to the Staschan and Menltz Ponds. Daybreak on December 2nd, 1805, was not auspicious. By 6:30 am all the IInd Company were awake and had eaten their small allotment of supplies. This had to be done without the benefit of fire or any other source of heat and the word came down the lines that they were to remain hidden in the trees by the brook and concealed by the fog.
"Powder and flints, men," said the Sub-Lieutenant stamping his feet in the cold mud and trying to find things for his men to do. "Check that man's harnessing," he brusquely ordered the Sergeant, who saluted slowly and turned to Herbette.
"Tighten that strap," he shouted, making the Sub-Lieutenant jump.
"Quietly, there Sergeant. We don't want the Russkies to know where we are."
"Yes Lieutenant," LaGrosse shouted, almost as loud as before. The officer got the hint and moved off to harass a different group.
By now there were sounds of fighting. South of their position, down the brook and in the direction of the two frozen ponds, a major engagement had begun. Unknown to Duroc or his friends, Allied troops commanded by Buxhowden had descended from the Prazten Plateau and were attacking Marshall Davout's regiments defending the village of Tellnitz. It was a battle that would last most of the day, swinging back and forth as one side and then the next gained some advantage and then lost it. Eventually it was victory by the French troops fighting around Tellnitz that would decide the battle. But at 7:00 am that morning such a victory had yet to be won.
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