The messenger nodded.
‘Go!’
Napoleon turned to his officers. ‘You all heard that. It’s down to us to make sure the attack is carried through. We’ll march in close order. Have your NCOs positioned on the flanks of the column to keep the men in formation.There will be no pause to deploy when we reach the outpost. We’ll march right over the enemy and let the other columns mop them up. All clear? Then let’s get moving, gentlemen!’
They tramped through the dark streets of La Seyne and then out across the churned mud of the countryside.The sucking ooze around their boots slowed the pace as the men struggled to keep their feet in the tight formation. Soon they ran into the first scattering of injured men and malingerers heading back to La Seyne. The guns of Napoleon’s batteries had fallen silent after bombarding Fort Mulgrave for the hour Napoleon had calculated the assault columns would need to get into position for their attack.The plan was already far behind schedule as the attack had stalled at the enemy’s first line of defence. Napoleon marched at the head of the column, with a company of grenadiers who had orders to sweep aside anyone they encountered in the way of the reserve column. As the column approached the enemy outpost Napoleon could dimly make out the men clustered on either side. He cupped a hand to his mouth.
‘Join the rear of the column!’
His boot came down on something solid, and with a start he realised he had stepped on a body. He forced himself to stride on regardless and moments later they reached the ditch that surrounded the outpost. His sword rasped from his scabbard and he thrust it over his head.
‘Grenadiers! Forwards!’
The company surged across the ditch and began to scramble up the far slope. Ahead, behind breastworks, the dim shapes of the enemy’s shakos were visible. But this time there was no well-trained volley of musket fire to destroy the ranks of Frenchmen. The drenching rain had seen to that. Instead the two sides met face to face and fought it out with bayonet, sword and trench tools. Unlike the earlier attacks, Napoleon’s men came on in a solid wave, led by the grim-faced grenadiers.
‘Pull down the gabions!’ Napoleon shouted up the slope. ‘Pull ’em down!’
A burly sergeant thrust his musket into the hands of one of his men, grasped the wicker rim, braced his legs and pulled with all his might. The heavy rain had softened the earth around the gabion, and slowly it loosened. With a grunt the sergeant turned it aside and let it slither down into the ditch. He wrenched the next one free and then there was a gap in the breastwork wide enough for two men to pass through. On the far side the enemy were closing up to defend the breach as the sergeant snatched his musket back and with a bull-like roar he charged through the gap.
‘Come on!’ Napoleon waved his sword. ‘After him!’
The grenadiers scrambled forwards and threw themselves on the defenders. Napoleon was swept along with them and then he was inside the outpost. Around him the dark shapes of men grunted and swore as they thrust and slashed at what they took to be their enemy. Napoleon glanced round, saw the outline of a British shako and slashed his sword down. The blow landed with a thud, cutting through the hat and into the man’s skull. He fell back with a cry and Napoleon stepped over the body and further into the outpost. Behind him some of the grenadiers were busy hauling aside more gabions to widen the gap as the rest of the column fed through and added to the tide of men overwhelming the defenders.
‘They’re running for it!’ a voice shouted. Sure enough dark shapes were fleeing for the far rampart, hurling themselves across the breastwork and out of sight. Napoleon’s men started to cheer. He sheathed his sword and shouted at them to be silent. There was no time to celebrate. Those men would warn the defenders of Fort Mulgrave of the approach of the column. He must give them as little time as possible to prepare.
‘Grenadiers! Form ranks! Lieutenant Junot? Where are you? Junot!’
‘Here, sir!’ A figure squeezed his way through the men crowding the inside of the outpost.
‘Junot, get down to the rest of the column. Lead them round the outpost and head for the fort. Send word to the general that we’ve taken this place. Tell him I’m heading straight for the fort. He can join me there.’ Napoleon smiled for an instant. There he was, telling a superior officer old enough to be his father what to do. Still, he had enough faith in Dugommier to hope that the general would see the sense of it.
‘Very well, sir,’ Junot nodded, and then added, ‘Watch yourself, sir.’
Napoleon discerned genuine concern in the man’s tone and was surprised by the realisation that he had inspired a measure of devotion in his subordinate. He took the lieutenant’s hand clumsily and gave it a brisk shake. ‘You too, Junot. I’ll see you in the fort.’
Then he turned away, and curtly gave the order to advance. He led the grenadiers across the outpost to the crude gateway that opened out on to a narrow causeway crossing the ditch. There ahead of them loomed the bulk of Fort Mulgrave, just visible through the shimmering veil of rain. Napoleon quickened his step into a steady trot and behind him the equipment on the grenadiers chinked and clattered as they kept up with him. He hoped that the rest of the column followed suit since the grenadier company would stand no chance on its own. From his earlier observation of the land Napoleon recalled that there were a few foothills to the north of the fort. They could conceal his approach and give them some chance at least of surprising the enemy.
He veered to his left and led the men into a shallow vale, and the fort disappeared from view. A figure appeared out of the darkness.
‘Who’s that?’ Napoleon barked, tightening the grasp on his sword.
‘Captain Muiron. And you?’
Muiron was attached to the general’s staff, and Napoleon lowered his sword. ‘Colonel Buona Parte.’
‘Thank God, sir.’ Muiron approached. ‘The general’s up ahead with some skirmishers.’
‘What’s he doing with the skirmishers?’ Napoleon was astonished. Clearly Dugommier was a general who led from the front. ‘He should be at headquarters.’
Muiron laughed. ‘You can tell him that when you see him. He’s found a point on the ramparts where there’s only a handful of cannon. That’s where he wants the reserve column to go in.’ Muiron looked beyond Napoleon and saw the grenadier company halted behind him.‘Where’s the rest of the column, sir?’
‘Coming up from La Seyne. Should be making their way round that outpost.’ Napoleon pointed out the direction as best as he could estimate it. Muiron nodded.
‘Very well, sir. I’ll go and find them.They’ll need to be guided to the general.’
‘What about us?’
‘Just follow this vale, sir. It bends round the fort and brings you out in front of the northern rampart, but you’ll find the general and his men before you see the fort.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Good luck, sir.’ Muiron saluted and then ran off to look for the rest of the column. Napoleon waved his arm. ‘Forwards!’
General Dugommier hurried up to Napoleon the moment he caught sight of the grenadier company.
‘Buona Parte, good to see you! Where’s the rest of your men?’
As Napoleon quickly explained, Dugommier removed his hat and ran a hand through his soaked hair. He glanced back at the rampart and swore softly before turning back to Napoleon. ‘There’s not a moment to lose, Colonel. We have to attack now, and pray that the rest of your column reinforces us in time.’
Napoleon nodded. ‘You’re right, sir.’
‘Let’s go then. Spread your men out. No sense in making an easy target of ourselves.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Napoleon formed the grenadiers up in open order, and together with the general’s skirmishers the thin line moved off towards the rampart at a steady pace. The men kept their silence, staring ahead intently for any sign that they had been spotted but the ramparts seemed still and quiet. As Napoleon strode forwards at the side of Dugommier he instinctively hunched his head into his collar as if that might make him less easy to see and harder to hit. It was absurd, he realised, but he could not help himself.They were within musket range of the fort when two brilliant stabs of flame lit up the rampart, bathing the approaching men in a brief lurid orange glow before the sound of the cannon burst upon them. For an instant the line wavered, but the shots had passed harmlessly overhead and General Dugommier bellowed the order to charge.
Napoleon broke into a run, with grenadiers rushing towards the fort on either side. They reached the ditch, and saw at once the wicked dark points of spiked obstacles in the bed of the ditch. But the enemy had strewn them about too sparsely and the attackers passed through them quickly and began to climb the far slope.
The British gunners did not have enough time to reload and as the dark shapes rose up out of the darkness towards them they fell back from the rampart in panic, leaving a marine detachment to face the French alone. Napoleon made for one of the gun embrasures, crouching down so that the defenders could not see him. Keeping his sword in hand he awkwardly clambered up into the embrasure, slid over mud-slick soil and peered inside. Only a handful of the enemy were close by the gun.The rest were spread out on either side of the battery, bracing themselves for the assault. Napoleon turned back and hissed to the nearest grenadiers. ‘Up here! This way.’
Several of the men climbed through the embrasure and crouched down between the guns as their comrades further along the rampart on either side kept the marines engaged.As soon as he had enough men to hand, Napoleon slipped down amongst them.
‘When I give the word we charge up the line of the rampart and roll ’em up from the flank.We must break their spirit so make as much noise as you can. Everyone ready? Good …’ Napoleon took a breath, tightened his grip on the sword hilt, and then rose to his feet.
‘Charge!’
With a roar of pure blood-lust the grenadiers surged out from between the guns and ran down the inside of the rampart, bayonets lowered. The marines turned towards the sound, instantly distracted from the fight against the men outside the rampart. Napoleon thrust his sword at the nearest man, felt his blade parried away, but brushed past him and continued along the rampart as one of the grenadiers following him took the marine in the throat, plunging his bayonet up into the man’s skull and dropping him instantly.They charged on, cutting down two more men before the enemy lost the will to fight and turned to flee from the rampart.
‘Leave them!’ Napoleon ordered. It would be dangerous to lose control of his small force while they were inside an enemy position and vastly outnumbered. ‘Leave them, I said!’
The grenadiers pulled up, discipline taking control over their desire to chase down a beaten enemy. Napoleon leaned over the rampart. ‘General! We have the wall.’
‘Well done!’ a voice called out of the darkness. ‘I’ll join you.’
As soon as the rest of the men had climbed into the fort Napoleon sought out the general.
‘Sir, we have to prepare some defences. As soon as the fort’s commander realises we’re over the rampart he’ll counterattack.’
‘Of course he will.’ Dugommier glanced round. The battery had been built on a small spur of land and was joined to the rest of the fort by a narrow gap between the walls. He pointed with his sword. ‘That’s where we’ll hold them until Muiron turns up. Form the men across the gap.’
Napoleon nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
He gathered the grenadiers and skirmishers and led them into the position where they formed a line two deep, and waited in the teeming rain for the British to react. Meanwhile, the general sent a message to Muiron to inform him the rampart had been taken and urging him to bring up more men as swiftly as possible.
‘Sir!’ One of the grenadiers called to Napoleon. ‘They’re coming!’
A dense, dark column of infantry was crossing the open ground at the heart of the fortification. As they closed on Napoleon’s small force he cleared his throat.
‘Remember, lads, we must hold on until the rest of the column arrives. If we do that, then those bastards have lost, and the fort’s ours.’
He turned back to face the enemy. On they came, at a steady pace until they were within pistol shot. Then their commander halted the column and formed them into line. There was a beat, as both sides glared at each other, then the order to charge roared out and the British swept forward, roaring their battle cry.
Napoleon gritted his teeth and crouched slightly, sword extended towards the enemy. On either side the grenadiers braced for the impact, rain dripping from the ends of their bayonets. Then a shadowy wave of men crashed into the French line. For a moment the grenadiers reeled under the impact, before they fought back, fighting wildly, slashing, stabbing with the points of their bayonets, and swinging the heavy butts at the enemy. There was no finesse in their actions, just a frenzied attempt to kill and to stay alive. Napoleon stepped into a gap between two of his grenadiers, sword poised. A dark shape lurched towards him, behind a long pike and he glimpsed three dull chevrons on the man’s arm before he hacked at the shaft of the pike and drove it down and away from his chest.The sergeant grunted, yanked back on the pike, brought the point up and feinted once, twice, each time making Napoleon flinch back. The man growled and then thrust again, this time throwing his full weight into the charge. Napoleon parried the pike again, but an instant later the sergeant’s body slammed into him, spinning him round and knocking him flat. He fell face first into the mud, and almost let go of his sword. Thrusting himself to one side with his spare hand Napoleon heard the point of the pike slap into the mud where his body had been lying an instant earlier. Napoleon slashed out with his sword, a low cut at knee height, and the blade hacked into the man’s joint, severing tendons and shattering bone.The sergeant toppled over with a cry of pain. Napoleon slithered back, scrambling between the bodies and glanced at the struggling figures all about him. As soon as he was clear he rose to his feet and stared round, trying to gauge how the fight was going.