Waterloo by Andrew Swanston Read Free Book Online Page B

Cooke’s patience has run out. We are heading for the town of Nivelles – ten miles or so east. We’ll bivouac there tonight.’ James could only hope the general was right about a bivouac. Ten more miles of heat, flies and dust, and half the division would be beyond fighting.

CHAPTER SIX
    Unencumbered by artillery and wagons, the light companies drew steadily ahead of the rest of the division. After two hours’ march, they came to a cluster of farm buildings with a narrow stream running between them, where Macdonell ordered a halt. Judging by the dust cloud behind them, the wagons and artillery were a good mile behind and both men and horses needed food and water.
    While the troops rested by the side of the road, Harry Wyndham led a party to buy whatever he could from the farmers. Macdonell handed him a small bag of coins, issued that morning by the quartermaster. ‘Offer them a fair price, Harry,’ he said, ‘but not too much. Hay for the horses and I see turnips and cabbages in the fields. Fresh meat if they have any. Might be a pig or two hanging in a barn.’ While Harry went in search of food, a second party was sent with buckets and kettles to fetch water from the stream.
    All afternoon they had passed small groups of transports and wounded men heading west. As at Braine-le-Comte, they were mostly from Dutch and German regiments and had made way for the Guards to march past. They had obligingly hauled wagons and herded cattle off the road and even pushed the wagon carrying the Prince’s personal equipment to one side. A few words were exchanged but there was no time to dally.
    Macdonell was holding the bridle as his horse munched tufts of dry grass on the edge of a field when another party appeared from the direction of Nivelles. This one was different. Twenty or so blue-coated and unarmed Frenchmen under the guard of four Brunswickers. He led his horse down the road to meet them.
    ‘Colonel James Macdonell, Second Battalion, Coldstream Guards,’ he announced himself. ‘Who here speaks English?’
    A lieutenant in the black of the Brunswickers stepped forward. ‘Lieutenant Franz Mezner, Third Battalion, Brunswick Corps, Colonel. We are escorting these prisoners to Braine-le-Comte.’ Brunswickers, unlike the Dutch and Belgians who used dogs to pull their carts, ate them. A useful taste if food was short, although Macdonell had never had occasion to try it.
    ‘Prisoners, Lieutenant? I am surprised you and your men could be spared.’
    ‘They are deserters from the French army, Colonel. The general ordered them to be taken for interrogation.’
    ‘Who is your general?’
    ‘The Duke of Brunswick, Colonel.’
    Wellington was not the only duke on the Allied side. His Serene Highness the Duke of Brunswick was another. What awaste of four fit soldiers, thought Macdonell. ‘What news do you bring, Lieutenant Mezner?’ he asked.
    ‘When we left, Colonel,’ replied Mezner, ‘we were holding a defensive position at the crossroads at the village of Les Quatre Bras. Our light companies had advanced further south.’
    ‘At Braine-le-Comte we saw many wounded men. There was talk of artillery fire and cavalry.’
    ‘Yes, sir. The French artillery has been pounding our positions all day. Their cavalry make sorties on the flanks in the hope of catching our infantry before they can prepare to meet them and then retire back to their lines. The casualties have been high.’
    ‘No infantry attacks?’
    ‘Not yet, Colonel, but it cannot be long. Our intelligence is that they are massing for an attack up the Charleroi Road. But reinforcements have been arriving since noon. General Picton’s division may be there by now and also General Kempt’s. And the Duke of Wellington himself, of course.’
    ‘And Napoleon?’
    ‘He has not been seen. These men say that Marshal Ney commands their army. They think Napoleon has marched east in search of the Prussians.’ If so, there would be no French advance through Mons,