The Confrontation at Salamanca Read online

  The cowardly chasseurs had met with only half a troop, exactly as his friend Antonio had later related to him. Instead of chasing his ‘guerrilleros’ into an ambush, they had simply sat there until he lost patience and challenged them by flaunting a mere troop in echelon across the road.

  It was unbelievable, but a full squadron or more of chasseurs turned round and went back the way they had come. No amount of fuming and swearing could alter the fact that they had refused combat and done it in a contemptuous way that said that they couldn’t be bothered to soil their hands with foes who were beneath their dignity and talents.

  He was so angry that he considered momentarily ordering a full charge at the retreating foe. It was a quick impulse and he realised immediately that the French were probably praying for such an action. It would then be warfare as they understood it and had spent interminable hours training for. They might even be as good as his own men at that sort of thing. As good as, not better, of course, that would be unthinkable for Don Luis Quintana’s new squadrons.

  He contented himself by using his head as he had been taught. He followed them all the way back to their division and flaunted his men at them, making sure that the chasseurs knew that he was taunting them all the way.

  As soon as he could be sure that the French were moving east and seeking a way into the more open plains before turning south, he returned to report.

  It went a long way towards improving his temper when General Welbeloved commended his restraint in front of his commander and colleagues. “What you should bear in mind from now on, Juan and all of you, is that the French now know you and respect you. They shall not wish to attack you in future unless they can see that they have an advantage.

  That does not mean that they are afraid of you, only that they respect your ability and shall endeavour to fight you when they next meet you, hoping to find some advantage when they do so. It is therefore incumbent upon you always to treat them with similar respect. Try to fight them on their terms and they can be lethal. Each and every time, use your heads and exploit your own very real strengths.”

  He paused and looked around the circle of triumphant, beaming faces. He saw pride and triumph in all of them, with perhaps a touch of arrogance; no bad thing in a fighting man if there was no inherent weakness that it was hiding.

  He spoke directly to Colonel Quintana, but loudly enough to be heard by all. “There has been one significant discovery that we have made during this current series of engagements. The quality of the mounts ridden by the French is not as good as it was only a year ago.

  We are normally grateful to our enemy for leaving so many of his horses for us to use. In fact, the Avispónes have long relied upon French generosity to provide most of our animals.

  No longer! If the horses left behind for us this time are representative of those presently in use by our enemy. They are much younger than in the past and shall need to be trained again from scratch. Some may be used by our wagon train and mortar teams, but not one is up to the standard we have come to expect.

  Bear this in mind for the future. It is another potential weapon against French cavalry. If the contest seems to be equal to you, it may be worth while manoeuvring against them to find out if the best they can do is charge and retire.”

  There were some thoughtful faces. In the euphoria following their successes, few had thought to examine with any thoroughness, the prizes that they had taken.

  Welbeloved took Quintana on one side. “There is no more we can do here, Luis. Your legitimate time with us is at an end and you may decide that you have to return to your general.”

  Quintana looked desolate. Before he could respond, Welbeloved put his hand on his shoulder. “It is not my place to tell you, Luis, how you should interpret the orders you have.

  I do recommend though, that you make no decision until you have heard the latest information that I have just received from Lord Wellington.”

  He beckoned to a very young, oriental-seeming captain, wearing the uniform of the Hornets, together with the shoulder ornamentation of an aide-de-camp. “This is one of my promising young officers, who had been stolen from me to become an aide to Lord Wellington. He has just returned with A Company from Salamanca. Colonel Quintana, allow me to name Captain Pom Bal Li of the Vespãos battalion of Hornets.”

  Pom stepped forward smartly and saluted, then offered his hand and greeted Don Luis in faultless spanish, with just the faintest inflection of the dialect spoken in the south of Galicia, close to the border with Portugal.

  Quintana was no longer surprised at anything, no matter how unusual, that happened to be wearing the uniform of the Hornets. There just had to be a very good reason why an oriental child was sporting the insignia of a captain and was said to belong to the Portuguese battalion of Hornets, while acting as an aide to the commander-in-chief of the British army.

  He pounced upon the one thing that was familiar to him. “Captain Pombal, I am delighted to meet you. I have to assume from your name that you are descended from the famous Marqués de Pombal who rebuilt Lisbon after the devastating earthquake?”

  Pom gave a beaming smile that made him appear even more youthful. “Indeed, Colonel, my father is a member of that family, but my strange eyes come from my mother. She is the daughter of a mandarin of high rank in the country that you may know of as Cathay or China. It was her wish that my name should incorporate the first two syllables of her husband’s name as a concession to Chinese custom. My given name is Li.”

  “That is now officially Don Li.” Welbeloved hastened to add. “The Regency Council has recognised his remarkable achievements during the expulsion of the French from Portugal. However, more of that later. It is the news he brings that concerns us and the orders that he brings from Lord Wellington for the Hornets. Proceed Li!”

  Pom nodded. “Gentlemen, let me first recount events for the benefit of Don Luis. Lord Wellington and the allied army have now occupied Salamanca. Marshal Marmont has made two sorties against us, both repulsed. Once the three forts that he left in the city were captured, he retired north over the River Duero and continued to seek support to increase his force.

  We understand that as of yesterday, he has despatched a division under General Foy that is moving west along the north bank. We can only speculate as to his orders, but General Santocildes lies in that direction.”

  Welbeloved turned to Quintana. “There you have it, Don Luis. Lord Wellington has asked me to take the Avispónes and interfere with Foy. If you ride with us, I am sure that General Santocildes shall consider that you are acting in his interest. Let me just say that you shall be most welcome.”

  Quintana’s face was a picture of relief. “There can be no decision to make, Don Joshua. If this General Foy is marching west, he has to be looking for my general. It is therefore my duty to come with you and help to interfere with him. I shall send a despatch to tell him exactly what we intend and to warn him that he must be ready for Foy, if we do not succeed in distracting him.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Welbeloved was in a thoughtful mood as he rode south toward the Duero. He had met General Foy before and had been so impressed at the time that subsequently he had made enquiries about his record and experience. Everything confirmed that he was a young, active, professional general who had reached his high rank at an early age. One who was trusted by his superiors to use his head and do the right thing at all times, even when acting away from higher authority.

  Welbeloved had met him when Marshal Masséna had sent him back to Paris from before the lines of Torres Vedras, to explain his predicament personally to Napoleon.

  The attempt that Welbeloved had made to get Foy to pause and attack the Hornets in an entrenched position was treated with contempt and disregarded with a wisdom that was worthy of a much older and more experienced head. The general nevertheless promised to remember the challenge and respond to it when he had the opportunity and less important things to do. Was Welbeloved now likely to get the c
hance to remind him of the challenge?

  Captain Pom Bal Li remembered the general very well. As an exceptional linguist, he was often present when any talking was to be done. He had mixed feelings at the time. He hated all Frenchmen for the desolation and destruction that they had brought to Portugal, but there was something about Foy that he found he could admire against all his better judgement. If an enemy could be said to be worthy, then Foy was that enemy.

  Quite unselfconsciously he related some of his experiences to Colonel Quintana as they rode south. Don Luis was fascinated by the tales he told quite factually, with no attempt to glorify any of them. He just had to assume that the young man appeared so youthful because of his marked oriental features. He must be in his twenties at least, to have seen so much action.

  Pom was, in fact, still sixteen and had been working hard for the last three years to convince everyone that he was older than that. He would have been delighted to have Quintana’s opinion accepted generally.

  The last day before they reached the Duero and he had to leave to find his way back to Lord Wellington’s headquarters, he spent riding with Captain Evans of D Company. It was not only that he admired Evans for the fearsome soldier that he had become, but he really enjoyed listening to his Welsh accent and the clarity of the pronunciation, allied to the musical lilt of his speech.

  He even prevailed on Dai to teach him a few phrases in welsh; words that were so different and yet strangely similar to the languages he had heard from the Scottish and Irish regiments that he had encountered. He left them when they reached the valley of the Duero and Evans led his company into the vanguard of the search for General Foy’s division. He knew that Marshal Marmont had established a position north of the river, around Tordesillas and the confluence of two other rivers.

  If Pom’s information was accurate, General Foy had moved his large division; about six thousand men; toward Toro, a town on the north bank of the Duero about twenty five miles west of Tordesillas. This was also a target for the Portuguese division that was currently engaged in the siege of Zamora; another twenty-five miles to the west.

  Pom’s intelligence, as usual, could not be faulted, but was now four days old. Foy had already reached Toro and any Portuguese interest in the place had been hurriedly withdrawn. It now meant that Marmont’s defences on the north bank stretched for over thirty miles and included all the bridges on that stretch, thus denying Wellington any easy access to the growing French forces.

  There was little that Evans could do to the scattered detachments of Foy’s division that he found to the east of Toro. He ignored them, knowing that Welbeloved would decide whether harrying them was worth the trouble.

  Giving the town a wide berth, he rode toward Zamora to see whether Foy would attempt to raise the Portuguese siege. Indeed, whether he intended to challenge Santocildes or content himself with the knowledge that those French besieged were keeping two or three times their number from having any influence on the main contest between Wellington and Marmont.

  Although the countryside along the Duero had its fair share of hills and woods, the river had tamed the mountains and the mixture of fertile and forested land made it ideal for the Hornets to avoid notice, while travelling quite rapidly toward the sharp end of Foy’s westward probe.

  The general seemed in no hurry. His cautious advance was careful and thorough. He was using his cavalry, but following up closely with light infantry and even a few small pieces of artillery.

  He was advancing along a broad front and the bivouac at the end of the day was scattered over quite a wide area, but with sentries and vedettes set in expectation of imminent contact with an enemy and on a high state of alert.

  The whole scenario took Evans back three years, to when the very first platoon of Hornets was following and attacking a detachment that Napoleon had sent to try and outflank Sir John Moore on his way to La Coruña.

  He sent his four platoons to make notes about any vulnerable units that could be attacked at night and he sent a messenger back to Colonel Addenbrooke, requesting that the rest of the battalion close up and prepare for action. In particular he asked that his friend, Lieutenant Thuner be available to add his extensive knowledge of explosives to the talents available.

  * * *

  The similarities between that first great achievement of the Hornets and the present situation had not escaped Welbeloved, riding with Don Luis and his Spaniards at the rear. At that time, the Hornets had even linked up with scattered Spanish cavalry and infantry units and here to hand was an excellent Spanish cavalry unit, more than willing to cause as much trouble as possible to the hated invader.

  When the messenger from Evans was sent on by Addenbrooke and the whole situation was made clear, the sense of déjà vu was even stronger.

  “Don Luis! We have General Foy’s division spread out over a distance of four, maybe five miles. They are occupying Toro and there is little that we can do about that, but there are several regiments in bivouac in the mile between here and Toro.

  May I suggest that with the skills that you have recently acquired and a suitable amount of reconnaissance, each of your squadrons may select a suitable target or targets to be attacked, possibly at first light?

  I should not leave it later than that as the Avispónes shall be assaulting targets in the three miles beyond Toro and I do suspect that they may do so during the hours of darkness.

  It were better that you ignore any loud explosions that you may hear before dawn, except insofar as you are evaluating the heightened alertness of your chosen victims. Also, do not linger once your attack has been made. The French shall not be best pleased and there are many more of them than we can muster.

  * * *

  General Foy had his standards and he made sure that all his commanders were not only aware of them, but actively enthusiastic about enforcing them. His division was advancing into unknown territory. Somewhere ahead, perhaps only a few miles, there were enemy forces, either advancing or still disputing the ownership of various towns, garrisoned by several thousand French troops.

  It was also enough for Lieutenant Colonel Addenbrooke to recognise that two of the targets that Dai Evans had recommended were going to be unusually difficult to deal with, given that they had decided to camp close to the bank of the Duero and were protected on their outer flanks by regiments of infantry.

  If he was commanding the battalion of original Hornets, he would not have thought twice about it, but this was the Spanish battalion and many of the men had been serving for less than a year.

  Then he remembered what the original Hornets had achieved when they had been serving for less than a year and recognised that some of the men who would be leading these attacks had been among those original Hornets. He argued himself into agreeing to everything that Dai wanted and contented himself with holding Diego Blanco in reserve and letting Ramon Hickson experiment with a dawn attack on what seemed to be the headquarters of a senior officer; an attack that would be supported by the mortars of the whole battalion.

  Evans had recommended that the old Hornet tactic of going for equipment and horses would probably prove more damaging than a simple assault on infantry soldiers. He proposed that Captain Burfoot take his explosives expert, Lieutenant Thuner and try and destroy the powder reserves belonging to the batteries of eight small cannon, while he took D Company to steal as many cavalry horses as he could. Neither of the targets was likely to be other than a liability to Foy without horses or powder.

  Addenbrooke had agreed with him much more quickly than he had anticipated. Both companies were able to set out at the same time, aiming to deal with sentries and vedettes just after they had changed, allowing the Hornets to complete their business before the next change was due.

  The land along the river was good farming country, but the small tenant farmers that cultivated it had no hopes that they would survive the ravages of the thousands of foraging troops passing by. Stored grain and livestock vanished to supplement rations
that were already becoming scarce. The soldiers did not expect to return this way and had no qualms about conserving future harvests.

  Anything edible was eaten and even fruit trees were cut down for firewood if it was easier than walking a few hundred yards to stands of established woods and copses.

  Such woods and copses were useful to A Company. The various regiments had plundered them for firewood before dark, but were generally inclined to camp away from them at night. It was between two such copses that the light artillery had found a way almost to the bank of the river.

  The infantry camps had established themselves around the copses, but were separated by the wide track that the gunners had used to get in.

  Sergeant Major Moreno led 1 Platoon to clear the way for Lieutenant Johan Thuner and his gunpowder experts of 2 Platoon.

  Lieutenant Cabrero and 3 Platoon remained in hiding just outside the boundaries of the firelit camps and Captain Burfoot and the mounted 4 Platoon waited on the road, on watch, knowing that any untimely travellers would be unlikely to stop and ask questions of such a disciplined unit.

  No infantry vedettes were posted along the track between the regiments, only on the boundary between them and the main road. The two unfortunate men on that boundary, but close to the track, died shortly after they were posted and their places taken by a couple of Hornets. 1 Platoon drifted down the track between the camps followed by ‘Johnnie’ Thuner and his men.

  Within contact of the enemy or not, the gunners were surrounded by infantry and a deep river. They had only posted four vedettes and two men to tend the hobbled horses. It was all reassuringly routine and because nothing was expected, the six guards never made a sound as they died.

  The search for powder reserves and made-up powder charges appeared leisurely, but Thuner had trained his men well and everything was gathered together with lit fuses set for thirty minutes.