Drums of War (34 page)

'Unfortunately,'
said Daniel, 'many people will heed it. The closer the French encroach on us,
the louder are the calls in Holland for a peace settlement.'

Marlborough
was adamant. "The only way to achieve peace is to defeat the French,' he
said. 'I firmly believe that we have the money, men and spirit to do it.'

'We're
somewhat short of men, Your Grace,' Cardonnel told him. "The Hanoverians
and Hessians have not yet arrived and the Danish cavalry will not be here for a
week or more.'

'What
about the Prussians?' asked Daniel.

'King
Frederick is having another tantrum, alas. He's refusing to send his
contingents until we've listened to his grievances.'

'I
thought they'd all been remedied, sir.'

'Since
our visit, he's invented some new ones.'

'His
support is more trouble than it's worth.'

'Forget
about the Prussians,' said Marlborough, shaking off his depression at the
prospect of action. 'Forget about the Hanoverians and the Hessians. The time
for talking is over at last. Everything points to the possibility of a battle
against Marshal Villeroi. By the time it takes place, we'll have sufficient
forces. We may have lost our chance of a telling attack in northern Italy but
we've gained something in return. We now have an opportunity for a decisive
engagement on our own doorstep, so to speak. I feel exhilarated, gentlemen,' he
went on, raising a fist. 'For the first time since Blenheim, I feel that destiny
is at hand. Nothing will content me more than to offer battle to the French. I
have every confidence that we'll achieve a complete victory.'

'Greetings
to you, stranger!' said Welbeck, sardonically. 'This regiment is the 24
^th
Foot. It's always a privilege to welcome a new officer.'

'There's
no need for sarcasm, Henry.

'How
do you come to know my name, sir?'

'It
was a lucky guess,' said Daniel.

'Wonders
never cease.'

'Stop
this horseplay, will you?'

'Why?'
said the sergeant, pretending to recognise him for the first time. 'I do
believe it might be our long-lost Captain Rawson.'

'You
know bloody well it is.'

'We
thought we'd never see you again, sir.'

'I
haven't been away
that
long,' said Daniel. 'In fact, it
seems like no time at all since I saw that hideous visage of yours. What's been
happening in my absence?'

'There's
been nothing of consequence, Dan.'

'Something
must have occurred.'

'You
know what winter quarters are like. We get up, visit the latrines, eat, drill,
eat again, go back to the latrines, drill again then moan about the fools
who're supposed to lead us. Whenever I look at our officers,' said Welbeck,
mordantly, 'I think that a lot of villages back in England must be missing
their idiots.'

'It's
good to know that you have such faith in us, Henry.'

'Present
company excepted, of course.'

Daniel
laughed. "Thank you.'

It
was months since he'd seen his friend. For most of them, he'd not even been in
the same country as Welbeck. While it was rewarding to be one of Marlborough's
aides-de-camp, it did distance him from so many friends in the regiment.
Simultaneously, it also set him apart from his few enemies. One of them popped
into his mind.

'How
has Major Cracknell been treating you?' he asked.

'He's
been the soul of kindness, Dan.'

'I
refuse to believe that.'

'I
was joking,' said Welbeck. The major is a conceited, spiteful, self-serving
cunt but you already know that.'

'I've
said as much to his face,' recalled Daniel, 'though not in those precise words.
He tried to hit me.'

'Really
- when was this?'

'The
day I left here. I offered to fight but he thought better of it. To be honest,
I expected him to challenge me to a duel.'

'He's
not that stupid, Dan. The major has seen you practising with a sabre. He knows
you'd cut him to shreds.'

'It's
no more than he deserves, Henry. Is he still harassing your nephew?' Welbeck
nodded. 'What's he been up to now?'

'He's
still looking for another excuse to have the lad flogged again. Since he can't
find one, he keeps reprimanding Tom for trivial bloody offences that were never
committed in the first place. It's upsetting to watch,' said Welbeck. 'Can't
the army find the major something more useful to do than hounding a harmless
drummer?'

'It's
going to find him something very soon.'

'What's
that?'

'Fighting
a battle,' replied Daniel. "That's the one thing Major Cracknell can do
with any distinction. When he's fulfilling his duties against the Frenchies, he
won't have time to bother Tom Hillier.'

Welbeck
was cynical. "There's no earthly hope of a battle with those cowardly
bastards,' he said. "They'd much rather just look over the ramparts and
wave at us.'

"That's
where you're wrong, Henry. His Grace has every reason to believe that Marshal
Villeroi is prepared to engage us this time.'

'It
will never happen.'

'It
will,' said Daniel. 'The marshal is as eager to bring this war to an end as we are.
According to our latest reports, he has an army of 74 battalions and 128
squadrons. I don't think he'll keep a force of that size sitting on its hands.
Marshal Villeroi has two very strong incentives,' he continued. 'The first is
that he wishes - like everyone else in France - to avenge the defeat at
Blenheim. That still rankles at Versailles.'

'So
it should, Dan. We kicked their arses hard that day.'

"The
second thing that drives him on is that conviction that he's a better commander
than His Grace. He thinks he proved that last year at the River Yssche.'

'We
were betrayed once again by the fucking Dutch!' said Welbeck, angrily.
'Villeroi was lucky. If we'd been allowed to attack, we'd have smashed his army
to smithereens.'

'We
may have a second chance to do that, Henry.'

'I
won't believe it till I see it.'

'You've
every right to be sceptical,' said Daniel. 'We've been in this position before
and nothing happened. This time, however, I'm certain that it will. Prepare for
battle, Henry. Marshal Villeroi simply wants to avenge Blenheim — we have a
chance to repeat it!'

Corswaren
was a little village that lay in a hollow beneath the whirring sails of its
windmill. The Allied armies camped nearby. It was country they knew well from
previous campaigns. At their back, less than twenty miles away, was the River
Meuse, curving its way south. Ahead of them were the French lines. At 1 a.m. on
23 May, Marlborough sent off Brigadier-General Cadogan, one of his most trusted
men, with an advance guard. Their orders were to reconnoitre the high ground
between two rivers, the Mehaigne and the Little Gheete. Conditions were poor.
After three days of pelting rain, there was a thick fog that night. Two hours
after dispatching Cadogan, his quartermaster, Marlborough led the main body out
of camp. Captain Daniel Rawson was with him.

The
advance guard had ridden beyond the village of Merdorp when they encountered a
French patrol. As soon as they heard distant firing, the patrol withdrew.
Though there was full daylight now, mist was still swirling unpredictably
around. Cadogan could see very little at first then something uncannily
reminiscent of their experience at Blenheim occurred. The mist began to thin
and lift. What he saw through his telescope was a wide sweep of open country
with hardly any trees and hedges to impede movement. On a high ground some four
miles off, he picked up clear signs of movement. Guessing that it was
Villeroi's advance guard, Cadogan promptly sent a galloper to alert
Marlborough. It was not until 10a.m that the brigadier- general and the
commander-in-chief were able to survey the scene together. Marlborough was
astonished at what he saw.

'It's
just like Blenheim,' he said. 'It's a natural battlefield.'

He
scrutinised it through his telescope. The vast expanse of land would allow huge
numbers of soldiers to be aligned in rigid mass formation. It was a perfect
arena for war. The rolling acres bore such a resemblance to the plain near
Blenheim that Marlborough's spirits soared. As in all battles, his strategy was
dictated by the nature of the terrain. Little discussion was required. It was
obvious to him, his staff and the accompanying Allied officers that the
engagement had to take place on the undulating plain between Taviers and
Ramillies. All that remained was to deploy his cavalry and his troops. Three
hours later, they were all in position. The battle of Ramillies was imminent.

'What
are we waiting for?' asked Tom Hillier, holding his drum.

'Reinforcements,'
said Hugh Dobbs. 'Some of our allies are late.'

'Where
are they?'

'Shitting
with fright behind a hedge, I expect. You can never trust foreigners, Tom. They
always let you down.'

'Will
there really be a battle this time?'

'That's
what it looks like.'

'Who's
going to win?'

'We
are,' said Dobbs with a strained laugh.

He
expected a comment from Hillier but his friend's attention had already wandered
in a way that was wearisomely familiar. Since his flogging, Hillier had been
withdrawn. Though he went through the drills with the other drummers and slept
in the tent with his friends, he was no longer the fresh-faced, earnest young
recruit. Eighty lashes had taken something out of him and replaced it with a
brooding sadness. Instead of enjoying the company of the others, he was
detached and melancholy. Nudging him in the ribs, Dobbs tried to bring him out
of his dejection.

'This
is what you joined the army for, Tom,' he said.

Hillier
woke up. 'What's that?'

'You
want to kick seven barrels of
merde
out of the Frenchies.'

'All
we can do is to beat our drums.'

'Where
would the rest of them be without us? We control the battle. It's the drum
calls that tell the soldiers what to do.'

'It's
not the same as holding a musket, Hugh.'

'Your
time for doing that will come.'

'No,
it won't,' said Hillier, flatly.

'I
thought that was your ambition.'

'I
don't have ambitions now.'

Once
again Hillier's eyes glazed over as his mind drifted away. He was surrounded by
thousands of men on the verge of battle yet he might have been somewhere
entirely on his own. Dobbs had given up trying to understand his friend, still
less hoping to talk him out of his prolonged misery. Even Hillier's uncle,
Sergeant Welbeck, had failed to do that. The drummer was beyond help.

Dobbs
didn't have to nudge his friend again. Someone rode up on a horse and turned
the animal so that its flank knocked Hillier sideways, making him struggle to
retain his balance. Looking down from the saddle was Major Cracknell.

'Watch
where you're going, you numbskull,' he barked.

'I'm
sorry, Major,' said Hillier, dully.

'I
hope you keep your eyes open when battle commences.'

'Yes,
Major.'

'You
have a job to do.'

'Yes,
Major.'

'Only
time will tell if you've the stomach for a fight. I doubt very much if you
have. It's always the same with the dregs of humanity we have to endure in our
ranks. They're all cowards.'

'Begging
your pardon, Major,' said Dobbs, defensively, 'but that's unfair on Tom. I know
how brave he can be.'

'I
don't see any bravery in dropping his breeches for a whore,' said Cracknell.
'Bravery is what a man shows in battle.' 'Yes, Major.'

'Did
you hear that, Hillier?'

There
was a long, considered pause. 'Yes, Major,' he said.

Daniel
had never admired the Duke of Marlborough as much. He'd fought under his
command in major battles before but had never been near him during the action.
As part of his staff, he now had the privilege of watching him at close
quarters. The person beside him was very different to the suave, urbane,
congenial diplomat who was at ease in the courts of Europe. What he saw now was
John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, a soldier to his fingertips, bold, calm,
decisive, vigilant, unflustered and bristling with energy, a supreme commander
at the height of his powers. Despair and disappointment were behind him now.
Marlborough had a golden opportunity for glory.

His
army had been drawn up in standard battle formation. British battalions and
squadrons were positioned in a double line near the Jeuche stream, their
scarlet uniforms resplendent in the sun. The bulk of the Allied infantry - some
30,000 or more - occupied the centre ground opposite Offus and Ramillies. On
their left were 69 squadrons of Dutch and Danish horse under the command of
General Overkirk. Battalions of Dutch Guards were stationed on the extreme
left. Daniel had noted the meticulous care with which Marlborough had sited his
artillery. In all, he had 100 cannon and 20 howitzers at his disposal. A
battery of 24-pounders was gathered in a cluster facing Ramillies. Other
batteries overlooked the Gheete and a couple of pieces were attached to the
Dutch Guards on the far left. On a battlefield as wide as this, artillery could
never dictate the outcome because whole areas were beyond its reach.
Marlborough had put his guns where they could do most damage and offer most
protection to the cavalry and infantry.