‘What is it, Berthier?’
‘A message from Bernadotte, sire. He says that a Russian army has appeared in front of him and he is falling back towards Ney.’
Napoleon shut his eyes and pictured the disposition of his forces in his mind. It made sense that the enemy should march on Bernadotte. His corps was the most advanced and if the Russians moved quickly they might envelop it and destroy Bernadotte before the rest of the Grand Army could intervene. However, Napoleon calculated, if the Grand Army manoeuvred swiftly, the tables might be turned and the Russians could be trapped in turn. His eyes flicked open.
‘Send word to all corps commanders to concentrate their forces immediately.We will advance towards Bernadotte. Once we have joined with him, Ney is to close in from the north and Davout from the south.’ Napoleon paused as he mentally projected the coverging lines of march. ‘We will pursue the Russians in the direction of Eylau.’
‘Eylau?’
‘A town a hundred and fifty miles north of Warsaw. If we can close the trap there, we will destroy the enemy.’ He turned to his brother. ‘If that happens, let us pray that the Tsar gives you the peace that you and your companions want.’
Lucien nodded. ‘I will pray for your victory, Napoleon. And that peace will follow. After you face the enemy at Eylau.’
Chapter 25
Eylau, 8 February 1807
From the church bell tower Napoleon had a good view over the snow-covered roofs towards the distant lines of Russian soldiers waiting a mile and a half away to the east. According to the reports from the scouts the enemy had spent the entire night standing to, in case the French attacked under cover of darkness. Indeed, Murat and Soult had pressed the Emperor to launch an attack as night fell, but Napoleon had had no desire to take the risk. Instead the Grand Army would wait until Ney and Davout approached before initiating any attack. Staring at the stolid Russian lines Napoleon could only guess at the discomfort of the enemy soldiers who had stood in their lines through the freezing cold of the night and were still ready for battle. They must be as hardy and disciplined as they came to endure such conditions, Napoleon reflected. His own men had emerged from their winter quarters in a bitter, surly mood and only the promise of a generous pay bonus and a free issue of new clothing and equipment had persuaded them to follow their colours against the Russian army.
‘A hard fight last night, sire.’ Berthier nodded down into the streets where the blackened remains of several wagons of the imperial baggage train littered Eylau’s main square. Scores of bodies were still sprawled around them, half hidden by the flurries of snow that had swept across the white landscape since dawn. Napoleon frowned. The officer commanding the baggage train had blundered into the town, ahead of the main army, late the previous afternoon and had run into the rearguard of the Russian army. Both sides had thrown more men into the skirmish until a bitter battle raged through the streets as night fell over Eylau. Thousands of men had died on both sides before the Russians finally gave up the town and the last shots died away. A pointless waste of men on the eve of the main battle, Napoleon reflected.
He nodded at Berthier’s words. ‘Yes. But it will be as nothing compared to today’s fight. I am sure it will snow again at any moment.’
The sky was overcast and an even darker band of clouds was already edging over the town as the first tiny flakes began to drift through the still air.The thick snow on the ground already muffled most sounds and Napoleon was struck by the quiet as the men, horses and guns of the Grand Army took up their positions east of the town, opposite the enemy spread out along a low ridge. The most recent reports from Davout and Ney indicated that they would reach the battlefield later in the morning. Until then Napoleon would be outnumbered, and he had taken the precaution of having the Imperial Guard brought forward to strengthen the French line.
The snowflakes began to fall more heavily and within minutes the last of the bodies lying in the street had disappeared under a white mantle to become little more than vague lumps beneath the snow. Occasional breezes swirled the thick white flakes and obscured the view of the Russian lines as the sun continued to rise unseen and unwarming in the gloom.
As the bells in the church chimed eight there was a muffled thud from the direction of the enemy line. Looking up, Napoleon saw a brief flickering glow in the blizzard and then heard a dull rumble as the Russian guns opened fire.With thick snow on the ground there would be no ricochet as the balls struck home and the men would be spared the worst of the preliminary bombardment. Even so, the tower shuddered momentarily as a lucky shot hit it halfway down. A moment later bright stabs flared out along the French line as the Grand Army’s guns returned fire, trusting to the accuracy with which they had been laid before the blizzard closed in over the battlefield.
Napoleon’s plan depended on Davout’s corps arriving on the enemy’s left flank once the battle was under way.With good timing he should be able to roll the enemy line up and fall on their rear.Then the Russians must surely break and be crushed under the hooves of Murat’s cavalry as they were chased down. Meanwhile the artillery duel continued as both sides fired blindly into the swirling snow. As Napoleon gave up trying to penetrate the gloom and lowered his telescope with a curse there was a faint whistling noise.
‘Mortar shell!’ Berthier yelled. ‘Down!’
Before Napoleon could duck there was a bright orange flash to one side as the shell burst in the air. Fragments of iron rattled off the masonry of the tower and the slates of the church’s roof as the concussion from the blast struck the Emperor and his staff. For a moment Napoleon was deaf, and he shook his head to try to clear his ears. His hearing began to return as voices and the continuing cannonade cut through the ringing sensation in his head. He glanced round.
‘Anyone injured? Berthier?’
His chief of staff shook his head and the other officers in the tower seemed dazed but otherwise unharmed.
‘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.