Inferno

Chapter 76

Egilsgade, one mile south of Copenhagen city ramparts

Rain teemed down and squally gusts rattled window panes in a fit of autumnal spite. Still in his soiled uniform, Ensign Maynard stretched out luxuriously on the big bed. It was no officer-like indulgence, his men were similarly cosseted, and the aroma of bacon cooking was promising a welcome end to the day.

He stood up, went to the little side table with its twin lamps and retrieved his unfinished letter to his brother. At that moment the poor fellow was no doubt in a good deal less comfort, bobbing about on the sea in this weather. And consequent on Headquarters deciding on a close siege we moved on the Danish outposts, we being a mile or more distant from the city.

It had been a close-fought, vicious action, driving them back within the ramparts, for the open countryside had given way to houses, a spill of the Copenhagen suburbs beyond the wall. The house-to-house fighting had caused losses but the 52nd had past experience of urban warfare that brought it short. Rapid penetration deep within, and parallel squads sent to make their presence felt, brought confusion and fear to the defenders. Afraid they’d been passed by and cut off, they fell back. A smart fight, but with results you’ll appreciate when I tell you we’re safely tucked in under their walls and my situation is most agreeable, courtesy the owner of this house, who, being unaccountably absent, I’m unable to thank personally.

The Danes had made a grave error in not levelling the suburbs: everything the British did was now hidden to watchers in the bastions and ramparts and they could think only the worst of what must be happening.

And it was not altogether true that they were at the walls themselves: except in their particular position in the rear of the city, and another directly opposite the Citadel, Copenhagen was surrounded by a fosse, a broad moat that was impassable under fire from the frowning fortifications. But these had been constructed in another age and modern guns drawn up even outside it could easily range to the walls and city.

It seems they’re out of sorts at our temerity and seek to annoy us at any opportunity. A sullen thump somewhere along the ramparts would be a Danish heavy-calibre gun opening up on some real or imagined target. A reply from a British battery could be relied on and firing would then be general up and down the line of fortifications until it tailed off, with nothing to show for it.

What was more worrying were the sharpshooters, daring skirmishers skulking among ruins and upper floors picking off whoever they could, then making off rapidly. There was no defence except vigilant picquets, who were very often in clashes of their own with enemy picquets opposite and now so close.

I shouldn’t criticise my betters but this is looking much like a stalemate, brother. We can’t stay for much longer and … It was not what he should be saying. He put down his pen and looked moodily out of the window at the grey evening. Why couldn’t the Danes see sense?