‘Lucky shot,’ someone said loudly as he rubbed his ears.
‘Lucky for who?’ replied Napoleon, wincing from a stabbing pain in his own ears.‘Still, ten paces closer and it would have killed us all. Given a choice, I’ll take being deafened every time.’
Some of the officers laughed and smiled, then all of them flinched as another mortar shell detonated down in the streets. As the morning continued some of the shells landed in the wooden buildings in the town and set fire to them. Smoke billowed into the leaden skies, adding a grim pall to the clouds that hid the sun.
‘Time to draw the enemy’s attention to their right,’ Napoleon said to Berthier as he glanced at his watch. ‘Order Soult and Augereau to advance. They must draw the enemy into a fight while Davout approaches from the south. Go.’
Once Berthier had sent the orders off Napoleon and his staff strained their eyes to follow the progress of the attacks.The snow deadened the sound of the drums as they beat the advance and the cheers of the men were muted as they set off through the snow towards the Russians waiting silently along the ridge. For a moment the enemy’s guns ceased their bombardment of Eylau as their crews brought forward and loaded case shot to meet the approaching French infantry.There was a palpable tension on the church tower as Napoleon and his staff waited for the Russian guns to open fire again. Then there was a rippling glow from the direction of the ridge and a dull rumble like distant thunder as grapeshot blasted into the advancing French columns, before a fresh blizzard obscured the view.
‘What is the latest news from Davout?’ asked Napoleon. ‘How long before he reaches the battlefield?’
Berthier consulted his log book. ‘Marshal Davout estimates that he will be able to commence his attack at eleven o’clock, sire.’
‘That’s not soon enough. Send a message. Tell him to attack as soon as he can.’ Napoleon chewed his lip as the cannonfire from the Russian lines intensified. He could well imagine the destruction being visited on his infantry as they tested the Russian centre.‘Tell him to attack even if it means he cannot deploy his entire corps at first.’
‘Yes, sire.’
A short while after the order was given the snowstorm began to thin out and then stopped, to reveal the battlefield stretching east of the town.
‘Good God almighty,’ Berthier muttered as he and the other staff officers stared towards the Russian lines. ‘What the hell’s happened?’
In front of the main Russian battery stood the remnants of Augereau’s corps. Thousands of men lay sprawled and heaped in snow where they had been cut down as they marched blindly through the blizzard straight into the teeth of the enemy’s cannon. Napoleon felt an icy fist clench round his heart at the sight. It was clear what had happened. Augereau and his men had lost their sense of direction and blundered to the left, straight into the path of the enemy’s guns. Worse still, they had come under fire from their own guns, still engaging the enemy artillery. Mercifully, the French gunners had ceased fire the moment the blizzard cleared to reveal the carnage spread across the frozen ground between the two armies.
‘Sweet Jesus,’ one of Napoleon’s officers said. ‘What a bloodbath.’
‘It’s not over yet,’ another officer added and pointed to a movement behind the Russian guns. ‘Look there!’
A dense mass of cavalry was forming up to charge the disorganised survivors of Augereau’s corps. The Frenchmen had already seen the danger and had begun to fall back, pacing away at first, then breaking into a fast walk across the bloodied ground, then running straight for the handful of regiments in the reserve line.As the fugitives fled past the reserves the enemy cavalry charged, sweeping past their guns and surging down the slope towards the shattered corps, cutting down those wounded who could not keep up with their comrades. Augereau’s reserves hurriedly formed square, the foremost regiment edging up on to a small hillock directly in the path of the oncoming enemy cavalry. Their brave move served to halt the charge long enough for the survivors of the first line to reach the safety of Eylau’s cemetery, where their officers attempted to rally their terrified men and force them to man the walls of the cemetery to defend it against their pursuers.
The men on the hillock were engulfed by the cavalry charge, but as Napoleon watched in pained admiration of their heroism the small square held its own and was still there when the cavalry pulled back and re-formed. At once the Russian gunners had clear sight of the square and began to fire round shot into the ranks of French infantry, cutting bloody paths through the blue lines. The sergeants quickly dressed the ranks to close the gaps and the square steadily shrank as the bombardment continued, leaving the ground around them littered with the bodies of their comrades. It continued for quarter of an hour until the enemy guns fell silent and with a throaty roar the Russian cavalry surged back up the hill, curved blades gleaming, and cut the survivors to pieces. As the horsemen turned away and re-formed Napoleon could see that not a man was left standing on the hillock. A moment later the blizzard began anew and thick snowflakes blotted out the battlefield.
‘Damn that fool, Augereau!’ Napoleon growled through gritted teeth. ‘His corps is finished. He has caused a gap in our line by shifting to the left. Now there’s nothing left for it but to bring the Guard forward, before all is lost.’
Berthier was familiar with his master’s reluctance to commit his veterans to battle. ‘The Guard, sire? There are only two battalions close to the town.The rest are already committed to the line. Are you sure?’
‘Of course I am, damn it! They are all that I have left. Give the order at once.They are to advance through Eylau and take up position along the eastern side of the town. At the double. Hurry, or we may lose this battle, Berthier!’
Napoleon turned back to observe the battlefield, but the new flurry of snow blotted out all sight of any detail beyond a hundred paces. Once again the sounds of cannon and musket were muffled and it was impossible to judge the distance, or even the direction. Napoleon gripped the parapet of the church tower as he stared anxiously into the swirling white specks and strained his ears. Down below in the streets of Eylau he could see the occasional dark shapes of men fleeing from the Russians. Survivors of Augereau’s corps, Napoleon surmised.Thanks to their commander, there was now nothing between Napoleon’s command position and the enemy.
A burning sensation in his fingers made Napoleon gaze down and he realised that his hands were losing feeling in the biting cold. He cupped them against his mouth and blew hard for a moment before rubbing them vigorously until the circulation returned, painfully. He pulled his gloves out of his coat pocket and put them on.The conditions under which the battle was being fought were truly appalling, he thought. He had hoped to pin the Russians while Ney and Davout crashed into their flanks to inflict a stunning defeat on the Tsar’s army. Instead, there was no sign of Ney and Davout’s men were arriving piecemeal, and the rest of the French line was in danger of collapsing. With a sudden frightening clarity, Napoleon saw that this day might well mark the loss of the Grand Army and with it all his dreams for dominion over Europe.
It was Berthier who saw the danger first as he leaned forward over the parapet and stared into the blizzard. ‘Sire, I think the enemy are sending infantry forward.’