‘They’re cheerful enough,’ Napoleon mused.
‘So they should be, sire,’ Berthier replied. ‘Soult saw to it that they had three issues of spirits before they formed up.’
‘Three issues?’ Napoleon shook his head slightly. ‘God, I pity the Russians and Austrians once those men get in amongst them.’
The two divisions cleared the mist and climbed the slope up to the Heights at a brisk pace. Too brisk, Napoleon thought. No point in reaching the crest out of breath and unable to fight.As the two divisions approached the Heights the skirmishers exchanged fire with the first line of enemy soldiers. Tiny puffs pricked out along the edge of the Heights before the Austrians disappeared behind a bank of smoke as they fired a massed volley. A moment later the sound, a sharp rattle, carried across to Napoleon’s command post. Calling one of the orderlies over to him, Napoleon rested the end of his telescope on the man’s shoulder and watched as the skirmishers fell back around the advancing divisions. The right hand division, commanded by General St-Hilaire, angled towards the village of Pratzen. As the leading troops entered the village Napoleon glimpsed, through the smoke, a small force of Austrians hurriedly trotting back along the Heights towards the village and he allowed himself a smile. Even though General Kutusov was aware of the threat to his centre he would not have time to do much about it.
Napoleon glanced round at Berthier. ‘Now is the time for our left flank to go forward. Give the order.’
‘Yes, sire.’
As soon as the order was received, the corps of Lannes, Bernadotte and Murat marched forward from the Zurlan. Faced with this new threat, the enemy commander dared not weaken his right to reinforce his beleaguered centre. Napoleon nodded with satisfaction before turning his attention back to the Heights.
St-Hilaire’s division had cleared the village and was advancing on the remaining enemy forces on the Heights, while General Vandamme’s attack had stalled around some earthworks protecting a small clutch of peasant houses. Thick smoke and the darting flames of artillery pieces told of the fierce resistance being put up by the defenders. Napoleon cursed softly as he saw that Vandamme was being delayed long enough for a gap to develop between the two divisions.The right hand column had penetrated some distance on to the Heights when it was brought to a halt by fire from its front, as well as the enemy units on either side. The attack was already in danger of being beaten back, Napoleon realised. If it failed then there could be no clear victory, merely a bloody battle of attrition right along the line.
‘Damn,’ he muttered. ‘We need to support St-Hilaire.’
‘Yes, sire,’ Berthier replied, but then thrust his arm out and pointed to the slope opposite. ‘That’s Soult, isn’t it? What the hell is he doing?’
Napoleon lowered his telescope and followed the direction Berthier was indicating. Six artillery pieces were being hurriedly hauled up to the Heights by their crews and soldiers detailed to help them. At the head of the horse teams drawing the guns was a figure on a powerful mount, who had raised his white-plumed hat and was urging the artillery teams on towards their comrades.
‘It’s Soult,’ Napoleon confirmed tersely. ‘And he’s doing what is necessary.’
Soult led his guns through Pratzen and forward to the head of St-Hilaire’s division where they unlimbered and opened fire, immediately tearing great holes in the Austrian line as they discharged case shot at close range. Heavy iron balls blasted out from each gun in a tight cone that tore the stolid Austrian infantry to pieces. Their discipline wavered and they began to give way, falling back towards the town of Austerlitz on the far side of the Pratzen Heights. As soon as Vandamme had taken the earthworks from their zealous defenders he came up in support of the other division, and an hour and a half after the attack had begun French standards dominated the Heights.
Napoleon snapped his telescope shut and called for his horse before turning to Berthier. ‘We’re moving the headquarters forward to Pratzen.’
‘Pratzen? But sire, what if you lose touch with our right flank?’
‘The men on the flank are holding their own. Once Davout arrives with the rest of his men they can retake Tellnitz and Zokolnitz. I need to be close to the heart of the battle. Come, Berthier, we must ride there at once!’
As the church clock chimed noon Napoleon and his staff approached Pratzen.The slope before the village was spotted with the blue uniforms of the French skirmishers who had been cut down as they approached the enemy-held houses. Once they entered the village Napoleon and the other officers had to slow their mounts to a walk as they picked their way over the French and Austrian bodies strewn across the narrow street. When they reached the church Napoleon reined in and turned to Berthier.
‘Set up in the church.Then give orders for reinforcements to be sent to Davout. I want Bernadotte’s corps up here as soon as possible, and order the Guard up to the Heights.’
Leaving his staff behind, Napoleon rode on with ten men of the Imperial Guard chasseurs to a small rise beyond the village from where he could get a better view of the battle’s progress.To the left, Lannes was steadily pushing back the Russians, away from the Pratzen Heights, allowing Murat and his cavalry to charge into the enemy line, threatening to cut them in two.To the right, Napoleon saw that the enemy was still fully engaged with Davout’s corps. Even though he was outnumbered by at least three to one, Davout was holding his ground. Beyond the right flank stretched a series of frozen ponds and small lakes surrounded by marshes that hemmed in the men fighting at that end of the battlefield. Napoleon immediately saw his opportunity. Once the enemy centre was broken, then the French could wheel round and trap nearly half of the allied army against the ponds and lakes.
Turning his attention to the east, Napoleon saw that Kutusov had only one body of men left that could still challenge the French mastery of the Heights. Moving up from the direction of the town of Austerlitz came the elite soldiers of the Russian Guard. As many as three thousand of them, Napoleon estimated. Their fine banners billowed in the cold air and sunlight glinted off their bayonets as they advanced in neat lines. Napoleon could not help admiring their brave appearance as they held their formation and marched steadily up the slope towards the lines of Vandamme’s infantry silently waiting for them. Spurring his horse on, he led his escort over to General Vandamme, who was shouting encouragement to his men as they watched the enemy approach. The general turned at the sound of approaching hoofbeats.
‘Sire.’ He bowed his head briefly. ‘You’ve joined us at an interesting moment.’
‘So I can see. I am sure your men will stand their ground.’
‘They will,’ Vandamme replied firmly.
At that moment, while the nearest Russians were still over three hundred paces from the French, they suddenly let out a great roar and surged up the slope.
Vandamme raised his eyebrows.‘They must be mad.They’ll be blown by the time they reach us.’
‘That may be so.’ Napoleon nodded. ‘But what they lack in brains they seem to make up for with courage.’
They stared fixedly as the Russians came on, hurling themselves up the slope, mouths agape as they shouted their war cries. The standards jostled above the thick shivering sea of bayonets, broken here and there by a sword as the officers urged their men on. Any pretence of formation was soon lost and it seemed to Napoleon as if the French were about to be engulfed by a raging mob.