Abigail's Cousin (15 page)

The marquis smiled with his eyes at his
adjutant, before turning to his commander-in-chief: "What are my
orders,
Monsieur le
Marechal?"

"You have nine
batallions in the village, marquis and another eighteen in echelon
on the hill." He pointed to his left, "Look at my chasseurs! Are
they not magnifique! I envy you marquis all twelve squadrons. You
have the advantage of le Malbrouk and can switch flanks at the
instant."

He had been
smiling to himself but now became serious, saying gravely:

"One thing is
certain. Blentheim is an anchor point. You must hold it at all
costs. Let me know the instant it is in danger."

The marquis
responded to the marshal: "Indeed monsieur, the village must be
defended to the last man. Still it is a natural fortress so you
gave us the advantage over the enemy and as you can see we have
further strengthened it with extra palisades. Have no fear on our
account, monsieur."

Tallard raised
his baton in a gesture of acknowledgement and of dismissal: "I
shall be observing the battle from yonder," pointing to a mill stop
the ridge. As he retired he waved his baton at General Zurlauben
stationed atop the ridge in the centre and commented as a throwaway
line:

"We've another
sixty squadrons in the centre so we'll make it hot for le Malbrouk
today. To your posts, mes braves. Bonne chance!"

As he spurred
his horse up the incline towards the summit, Tallard looked behind
him observing the puffs of smoke followed by the boom of his cannon
as his batteries continued to pound the enemy deployments in the
valley below. He stopped his horse and watched a gunner put lighted
taper to powder, saw, if not heard the hiss of ignition, followed a
fraction later by a belch of flame and smoke, then heard the boom
and watched the cannon-ball strike the ground, career bouncing
along the stubble and then heard the sickening squelch of impacted
flesh and bone, the spurt and spray of blood and guts as a horse
disintegrated, while the ball careered yet further losing speed but
not momentum as a spout of blood showed a headless soldier, and
still the ball did not stop hitting a basket, its contents
disintegrating which event caused the ball to skid along the ground
causing a dozen men to jump for their lives before it ended its
career in the sodden ground yards from the Nebel.

Tallard put
glass to eye and scanned the floor of the valley wreathed now in
permanent clouds of acrid smoke which even higher up, made him
splutter. The early morning mist had entirely dissipated and he
could observe the enemy's forces marching in good order towards the
river. He switched the glass towards the figure astride a white
horse and recognised Marlborough.

The duke was
watching his brother, General Charles Churchill on the far bank of
the Nebel directing his troops forward across the river by various
means already mentioned. Both troops and cavalry were still in
deployment which was now proceeding apace its momentum scarcely
broken by the occasional ball which found its mark, but otherwise
the sheer scale of the forces in the act of crossing carried
on.

Occasionally a
cannonball for some quirky reason landed plumb in the centre of the
stream causing an enormous spout of water which turned red as its
momentum went unchecked hitting a horse in midstream which turned
over and sank sometimes taking its rider, but more often he would
flounder to the opposite bank and scramble up to lie panting on the
sodden ground before getting up and looking for a lift-up from one
of his friends.

The balls were
now causing more havoc as the build up continued and there was
nowhere to escape the careering projectiles. Yet Marlborough's
formations assembled and deployed in accordance with his battle
plan and soon the duke had another hazard as parties of
sharp-shooters marched out of Blentheim, formed up on the incline
and the allied soldiers heard the dread orders: "Tirailleurs!
Formez en echelon! Tirez!" And the crackle of musket-fire was added
to the boom, boom of cannon, men falling clutching arms, shoulders,
legs and occasionally, lying prone and not moving.

There followed
the cry for stretchers and the wounded and dead were hastily
removed from the scene and Marlborough sent Parker to colonel Blood
to advance some batteries, load with canister and soon the echelons
of tirailleurs were broken up to be replaced by others but in no
organised way. At this Marlborough vowed his own sharp-shooters
would perform better when the time came. In the meantime he gave
permission for individual sharp-shooters to fire, although their
support was more psychological as muskets were ineffective from
long range, unless massed together.

Eventually a
troop of English musketeers was assembled to oppose the French
echelons of gens-d'armes. As balls zinged between the opposing
musketeers it soon became apparent, the English had the advantage
not in marksmanship, in bravery or in numbers but their musket was
easier to reload. Another advantage lay in their formation whereby
an English fusillade had less effect than the French but took place
more often.

Seeing what
was happening Lord Orkney although denied permission to start
assaulting the village of Blentheim, the duke wanting to mount a
co-ordinated attack of both Blentheim and Oberglau, nonetheless
gave orders to one of his battalion commanders with the result that
a square was soon formed of three rows of soldiers. This formation
was soon driving the French gens- d'armes back into the village
unable to withstand it's high rate of fire whereby the front row of
six fired and retired whereupon the next row fired and retired and
by the time the third row had fired, the men of the first row had
reloaded.

Notwithstanding Orkn
ey’s success, the French cannonfire had
not abated, their marksmanship improving all the time and the
effects were plain to see in mangled men and horses. The duke
called for his quartermaster supervising still the vital tasking of
laying fascines across the muddy reaches of the Nebel river owing
to the churned up state of the gound: "Colonel Cadogan!" yelled the
duke above the uproar, Parker having been sent on another errand
and the colonel had scarcely galloped to the duke's presence when
he shouted: "My compliments to his highness Prince Eugene. Advise
him if you please that we are ready, when he is."

The duke had
scarcely finished when a loud voice proclaimed: "Cadogan! Tell 'im
the Frenchies are dying to see 'im," whereby another heckler
yelled: "It's us who's dying, damn you. Tell 'im to get a move
on."

Cadogan was
long away so the words went unheard except from a corporal who
screamed: "Enough of that. Who was it? Was it you, Deane?"

"No, corp."
came the quick reply but the corporal shouted back: "Let's have a
bit of respect for your betters, or I'll have you flogged. Damn
your eyes!" The serjeant's voice was heard: "Alright corporal.
We're all on edge. Give it a rest."

At that moment
a hussar in blue and gold, his face streaked in sweat and blood
reined in just in front of the duke, shouting to make himself
heard:

"Seine hoheit
schickt Gruesse, Euer Gnaden. Es ist alles in Ordnung. Nun koennen
wir los. Er wartet Ihren Befehl, monsieur."

"Vielen Dank, Herr Kapitaine. Meine
Komplimente an seine Hoheit.
Wir koennen jetzt anfangen." As the hussar galloped away,
the duke spoke to Parker: "My compliments to his grace, lord Cutts.
Let battle commence, at his discretion."

As Parker
rides away up the slope towards lord Cutt's position, the duke
signals another rider at his disposal to notify General Churchill
of Lord Cutt's opening his offensive advising the general to get
the remainder of his infantry and cavalry across the Nebel. Yet the
advice appears unnecessary as the duke observes major-general
Willougby, on Churchill's orders, form up his squadrons to be ready
for an attack enfilading infantry between the neat columns of horse
in order to form up and deliver a volley of musket-fire towards the
French cannon positions.

It has a
positive effect as the cannonade has definitely slowed but perhaps
because the French are changing to canister to rebuff the advanced
musketeers, who are now very exposed. But the volley is never
loosed as the sharp-shooters pick off one gunner after another as
they pour a withering fire towards the cannon positions half-way up
the hill; but not for long. An escadron is suddenly pounding down
the slopes from nowhere and although the musketeers form up into
squares, they are no match for the French cavalry; yet their losses
are limited as general Willoughby orders his own squadrons into
action. The cannon-fire has stopped completely so that the crossing
of the Nebel proceeds unhindered.

The skirmish
over general Willoughby has another concern which the duke's glass
has identified, the French general Zurlauben's massed escadrons'
menacing presence beneath the forest canopy waiting for their
moment. Zurlauben has the advantage of cover and must be tempted
out and to do so Willoughby splits his force into two and proceeds
to the right as if to provide support for Prince Eugene opposite
Oberglau leaving the smaller part to proceed up the slope towards
Blentheim as if to support Lord Orkney. Zurlauben sees a chance for
an annihilating charge and, a half-mile distant, Willoughby is
alerted by the thundering hooves.

Immediately he orders a parade-ground
about-turn that owed something to Cromwell and with sword raised
orders his squadrons towards the left flank of the French who do
not see them so intent are they upon their prey. Willoughby urges
his dragoons into the fray with blood-curdling yells and the French
are caught completely by surprise and instead of routing a small
force are themselves outnumbered. Willoughby's cavalry is a mixture
of English, Danish, Dutch and Austrian troops but language is
unimportant, as their swords and sabre
s wreak havoc among the French.

Horses and
riders fall on all sides and the melee of threshing horses and
dying men impedes everybody but the slashing and sword-thrusts
continue, yet the stricken horses and fallen men bring the battle
to a standstill and a bugle call is the signal for disengagement of
Willoughby's men who return downhill and the worsted French scent
victory and in the heat of battle set off in pursuit. Zurlauben
impotently watching his horsemen pursue the enemy realises too late
their error for, as the allied cavalry retreat, he sees columns of
sharp-shooters emerging to enfilade their own cavalry in a
practised manoeuvre, and coolly form up. An officer brings down his
upraised sword which is the signal for a fusillade of shots
wreaking havoc upon Zurlauben's pursuing hussars, so that scarcely
one survives to tell the tale.

While this
cavalry battle has been going on, Lord Orkney has issued orders for
the attack on Blentheim and the Duke of Marlborough watches through
his glass as brigadier-general Ross leads his infantry in attack
calmly advancing to the barricade as soldiers all around him fall
dead or wounded victim of enemy musket-fire and placing his
sword-point upon the palisade, he orders his men to stop and to
fire, and a fusillade hits several of the defenders but they are
mostly well protected. The crackle of muskets proceeds from both
sides and the attackers use the butts of their muskets to smash at
the barricades to little effect and the attackers come off worst.
Ross orders a withdrawal and the bugle sounds recall leaving the
brigadier who falls to the ground beneath the palisade, mortally
wounded.

------------------------------------------

This
withdrawal is not a reverse but a tactic to allow Orkney to deploy
with the duke's permission his batteries further up the slope upon
ground won from the enemy. This takes time and a second charge
follows soon after the first and the opportunity taken to remove
the body of Brigadier Ross. As the infantry much reduced by enemy
musketry crash against the palisades, they not only smash at the
upturned tables, wagons and other parts of the palisade with butts
of their muskets but also now with makeshift battering rams, heavy
hammers and such like, and as the defenders are exposed by these
tactics, Orkney already has musketeers ready to pour a barrage of
musket balls into the gaps so that it is now the enemy who is
worsted.

The bugle is sounded for retreat as
Colonel Blood's batteries move into position, half of which are
loaded with canister. Although the command to fire is given for all
the guns, cannonading is not a precise art and inevitably there is
spasmodic fire. Nonetheless the balls cause enormous damage while
the canister, composed of short chains, iron pieces and such like,
are disabling even when the small missile does not kill outright.
He is so successful that the marquis de Clerambault has ordered
some of his escadrons held in reserve between Blentheim and the
Danube to attack Colo
nel
Blood's advanced batteries.

But the duke has forseen this as he has
ordered his brother, General Churchill to be in readiness for just
such an attack which the French have difficulty in mounting so keen
were they in their defence of the village. Colonel Blood's
batteries are allowed nearly an hour of uninterrupted cannonading
before the French dragoons are spotted and heard thundering from
their position to the left of the village raising a cheer from
their own side as they bear down upon some of the groups of cannon
positioned so close to the village that even enemy musket-fire has
caused casualties, but which being so close has virtually removed
the palisades from one side allowing Orkney's infantry to pour
through into the very ro
ads and by-ways of Blentheim.