Drums of War

Chapter Four

The euphoria engendered by the Allied success did not last long. Bad weather forced a delay of several days and the Dutch generals once again refused to approve a major engagement. With the enemy now drawn up behind the River Dyle, Slangenberg and the others could not even agree on the best point to attempt a crossing and they quarrelled for hours on end. Their hesitation caused even further delays. It was not until 30 July that the council of war authorised a move over the river south of Louvain with a diversion to the north. Marshal Villeroi moved smartly to block the first attempt but Allied troops managed to cross on pontoon bridges lower down the river. To Marlborough's delight, a battle at last seemed imminent. He carefully manoeuvred his men into position and was ready to strike. At the last moment, however, almost inevitably, General Slangenberg objected to an attack. The furious commander- in-chief had to call off the whole operation and march back to camp at Meldert.

'This is humiliating!' cried Marlborough in the privacy of his quarters. 'How can I conduct a war with such intolerable handicaps? The stupidity, pique and cowardice of the Dutch generals are beyond belief. It's almost as if they don't want to defeat the French.'

'Slangenberg is to blame, John,' said his brother, General Churchill. 'His behaviour has verged on insubordination. I think that you should bring it to the attention of the States-General.'

'It's not as simple as that, Charles.'

'Refuse to work with that bearded curmudgeon. He's been our nemesis from the start. I tell you, there are times when I believe that Slangenberg must be in the pay of the enemy.'

'I've tried everything to appease the old devil. I even told him it was an honour to have someone of his eminence under my command. But it was all to no avail. He continues to fester with jealousy and obstruct any plans we make.'

'Say as much to Grand Pensionary Heinsius,' advised Churchill. 'He's the one man with the power to dismiss Slangenberg.'

'I have to choose my words with care,' said Marlborough, biting his lip. 'Much as I'd love to show my rage, I must hold it in lest I upset people who are — when all is said and done — our major allies.'

'His Grace has shown a masterly control of his true feelings,' said Adam Cardonnel. 'Were he to commit them to paper, it would probably burst into flame.'

The three men shared a hollow laugh. They all knew that, in any correspondence, truth had to be mixed liberally with tact. In the wake of yet another missed opportunity to draw the French into battle, they were angry and jaded. The lustre of their victory at Blenheim was starting to wear off. They needed to prove that it had not been achieved by an isolated stroke of luck. Time was running out. Campaigning would be over in the autumn when food supplies dwindled. They did not wish to retire to winter quarters without having made at least some impression on the enemy.

Churchill was as distressed as his elder brother. General of Foot since 1702, he had seen his men performing heroically, only to have their efforts undermined by their allies. After the latest setback, he feared the worst.

'We'll end this year with very little to show for it,' he said.

'Not necessarily,' said Marlborough. 'We may yet do something of note before the summer is out.'

'Well, it will not be with the assistance of the Dutch.'

'It will have to be, Charles.'

'Then it's doomed from the start,' said Churchill. "The truth of it is that the Dutch are sick of fighting. They have no stomachs for a long war. More and more voices in The Hague are suggesting that they sue for peace with France.'

'In that event,' Cardonnel pointed out, 'they'll have to accept a Frenchman as the King of Spain and that's anathema to us.'

'It's anathema to the Dutch as well,' said Marlborough.

'Is it, John?' questioned his brother. 'I begin to sniff betrayal here. I know I accused him earlier but I'd exonerate Slangenberg from being in league with the French even though he shares their Popish religion. However, I suspect one of our allies. When our first party tried to cross the river, Villeroi was waiting for them as if forewarned of their approach. I fancy there's a spy in the Dutch camp.'

'The warning could equally well have come from our camp.'

'That's even more worrying.'

'Only if there really was treachery,' said Marlborough, 'and I'm not persuaded of that. I think that Marshal Villeroi guessed right this time. It was too much to expect that we could fool him twice in a row. The only way to find out the truth,' he went on, 'is to capture him and ask if he had an informer in our ranks.'

'Capture him?' said Churchill in disbelief. 'How can we hope to do that when the Dutch will not let us get anywhere near the fellow?'

'Be patient, Charles,' said his brother, tapping his forehead with an index finger. 'Something is stirring in my brain.'

While his uncle was avoiding Tom Hillier, he hadn't been forgotten by Daniel Rawson. Wondering how the lad was faring, he sought the drummer boy out in a spare moment. Hillier was close to tears. He was staring up at a tall tree in dismay. Daniel realised why.

'How long has that been up there, Tom?' he asked.

Hillier gasped in surprise. 'Oh — Captain Rawson!'

'Somebody is enjoying a laugh at your expense, I see.'

'It's not the first time, sir.'

'New recruits always have to endure this kind of thing, I'm afraid. It's a rite of passage.'

'How can I get it down?

Hillier had good reason to be upset. His drum had been stolen while he was in the latrines and wedged in the top branches of a tree. Some of the lower branches had been deliberately snapped off so that he could not use them to climb up. Shinning up the trunk would not be easy. It was too thick and smooth for him to get a good purchase on it.

'What else have they done, Tom?' said Daniel.

'They hid my uniform, they poured water over me while I was asleep and one of them put a dead mouse in my boot. Every day, it's something different,' said Hillier. "They seem to like baiting me.'

'It's all in fun, lad. They may have stolen your drum but they've taken care not to damage it. As you can see, they've put it where it can't possibly fall.'

'But how do I get it down again, Captain?'

'Try using simple arithmetic.'

Hillier was puzzled. 'Arithmetic?'

'Yes, Tom,' said Daniel. Add six and six together for me.'

'The answer's twelve.'

'That means your six foot combined with mine will take you up to twelve feet, and you can add another two for reach. I'd say that lowest branch was no more than ten or eleven feet away. When you stand on my shoulders, you'll be able to grab it easily.'

'You're going to help me?' said Hillier in amazement.

'Well, there's nobody else here to offer you a hand.'

'Thank you, Captain Rawson. I'm so grateful.'

'Let's retrieve that drum first,' said Daniel. 'We can worry about gratitude afterwards. Come on, Tom.'

Facing the tree, Daniel knelt down so that Hillier could clamber on to his shoulders. As Daniel slowly lifted him up, the drummer boy used the trunk to steady himself. When he pulled himself up to his full height, his head was above the lowest branch. He took hold of it, got a firm grip then hauled himself up into the tree, sending some leaves fluttering down through the air like snowflakes. Daniel stood back to watch him. While he was not a natural climber, Hillier was determined. Inching his way up through the fretwork of branches, he finally reached his precious drum. After checking that it had not suffered any harm, he began the slow descent. By the time he reached the bottom branch, he was able to lower the instrument to Daniel.

Dropping to the grass, Hillier was now beaming.

'I got it,' he said, taking the drum and stroking it. 'I got it safely back. Thank you, Captain. I couldn't have done it without you.'

'Don't tell the others that, Tom. Let them think you did it all on your own. That will impress them.'

'Yes, sir.'

'And don't be the victim all the time.'

'What do you mean?'

'Do you know which of the others took your drum?'

'I'm fairly certain it was Hugh Dobbs.'

'Was he the one who put the dead mouse in your boot?'

'Yes — that was definitely his doing.'

'Then you wait until he's asleep tonight and put a dead rat in his boot. He won't be so keen to bait you if he knows you fight back.'

Hillier shrugged. 'Where will I get a dead rat from, sir?'

'Quite simple — you kill a live one. There are plenty of them about if you keep your eyes open.'

The drummer nodded then shifted his feet. 'Have you seen anything of my Uncle Henry?' he asked, tentatively.

'I've had brief glimpses of him,' said Daniel. 'Sergeants, as you've found out, are very busy men. Their duties are onerous and they rarely get much rest. That's why Sergeant Welbeck has been unable to get in touch with you.'

'No, it's not, Captain Rawson — he hates me.'

'That's not true.'

'Mother warned me that he would. According to her, even as a boy, he never liked being part of a family. He preferred to do things on his own. I remember Mother reading out some of his letters to us. They never showed any real interest in what we were doing.'

'I'm astonished to hear that he wrote at all, Tom.'

'It was only now and then, sir.'

'Did you get a letter after Blenheim?'

'Yes,' said Hillier, 'and for once it was quite long. Hearing his description of the battle made me want to join the army at once and do something worthwhile for a change. I had this strong urge to follow in Uncle Henry's footsteps.'

'Well, don't be too disheartened by the way he rebuffed you. Sergeant Welbeck will soften in time. I'll make a point of telling him how nimbly you climbed that tree.'

'Thank you.'

'As for these tricks they keep playing on you,' promised Daniel, 'they won't go on much longer. We'll be on the march again very soon. It's just as well you have that drum back, Tom,' he added, touching the instrument. 'You could well be beating it in battle.'

Given the unpromising circumstances, most commanders would have abandoned the idea of pursuing further success in Flanders but Marlborough was too tenacious to give up. Feeling that something positive could still be snatched out of a largely unsatisfactory year, he produced a new plan, reminding his reluctant allies that they did, after all, still hold the initiative. As a first step, he collected five days' ration of bread for the army and summoned a convoy from Liege with six days' biscuit. This made him independent from the supply depots and from the camp bakeries that normally worked every four days. At the same time, he ordered a siege train to Meldert, large enough to inflict damage but small enough to be moved easily. He now had operational flexibility.

Marlborough's intention was to march rapidly to the source of the River Dyle in an attempt to lure the French into battle before their reinforcements could arrive from the Upper Rhine. The advance began on 15 August with Overkirk's army to the left of Marlborough's columns. Their combined force numbered 100 battalions and 160 squadrons. By dint of pressing on hard, they reached Corbaix and Sombreffe by nightfall. The development caused great unease in the enemy camp because they had no idea where the Allied armies would strike. Marlborough had positioned himself so that he could threaten Hal, Brussels, Louvain, Mons, Charleroi and even Dendermonde. As he had anticipated, his strategy sewed confusion in the French camp. In a panic, Villeroi dispersed his troops to strengthen every sector, thereby weakening his field force until it comprised only 70 battalions and 120 squadrons. They were outnumbered.

The Allies crossed the river at Genappes in blazing heat and swung north as if to attack Brussels. Villeroi immediately ordered General Grimaldi to block the high road running through Waterloo. The French commander-in-chief, meanwhile, concentrated his army behind the River Yssche. To his intense alarm, the Allies suddenly turned away from the high road and headed directly for the main French position, making it impossible for Villeroi to evade a major battle. All that he could do was to order his men to make frantic efforts to throw up earthworks along the line of the river. For the second time that summer, Marlborough had contrived to put the French army exactly where he wanted it.

There was another element to the plan. While enemy attention was concentrated on Marlborough and Overkirk, General Churchill took up a position in the Forest of Soignies. With 20 battalions and the same number of squadrons, he was poised to attack the French flank and rear from his hiding place among the trees. Everything pointed to an Allied victory. After consultation with General Overkirk, Marlborough secured full agreement to an immediate battle. All that they had to do was to wait for the artillery to arrive and hostilities could commence in earnest. Marlborough sent orders that the British train of artillery should come as quickly as possible. Then he waited.

Unfortunately, the delay was much longer than expected. When the artillery reached a narrow defile, they were stopped from entering it by General Slangenberg who wanted preference given to his baggage train. Frustrated artillery officers had to stand there for hours while the wagons rolled slowly past. Vital time had been wasted and the enemy had been able to bolster their numbers and strengthen their defences. It was noon when the British artillery was finally in place. Marlborough was at last ready to signal the start of what could prove to be a crucial battle.

Before he could do that, however, doubts were raised.

'Hell and damnation!' cried Marlborough, bringing both hands to his head in a gesture of despair. "The Dutch are running scared yet again.'

'This is General Slangenberg's work,' said Daniel.

'He's the ringleader, I agree, but it's the subordinate generals who are pressing for further reconnaissance. They want to inspect the proposed crossing points on the river. All it will mean is more and more delay.'

'That will only favour the enemy, Your Grace.'

'It's unforgivable to dither like this.'

'I thought that General Overkirk recognised the wisdom of your plan,' said Daniel. 'You completely outwitted the French.'

'If only the other Dutch generals realised that!' Marlborough took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry, Daniel. I shouldn't rant on like this in front of you. I'll be much calmer when the council of war begins. I want you here as my interpreter. When they mutter away to each other in Dutch, I always feel at a disadvantage. I need you as an extra pair of ears.'

'I feel privileged to be able to help, Your Grace.'

Daniel Rawson had no time to say anything else because the tent was suddenly filled with officers. He sat beside Adam Cardonnel and in a good position to watch the Dutch generals. By studying their expressions, he feared that they had already made up their minds not to sanction an attack. Their spokesman, as usual, was Slangenberg.

'We need more time,' he insisted.

'We do not have time,' declared Marlborough. 'We've already delayed far too long.'

'We must be circumspect, Your Grace.'

'Circumspection does not decide the outcome of a battle.'

'Perhaps not,' said Slangenberg, sternly, 'but it can reduce the number of potential casualties. Taking an army into battle without careful reconnaissance beforehand is both rash and dangerous.'

All the necessary steps have been taken, General.'

'I need to be absolutely certain of that.'

'Would you throw away the one chance we have of bringing Marshal Villeroi to battle? That's perverse.'

'We're pursuing a sensible course of action.'

'You're imperilling the whole strategy, General,' said Overkirk, irritably. 'His Grace devised a plan that bewildered the French and put them at our mercy. Had we attacked hours ago, we would surely have gained the upper hand by now.'

'That's idle speculation,' returned Slangenberg.

Daniel sat in silence while the argument continued and the minutes ticked by. Overkirk supported Marlborough but most of the Dutch generals and their field deputies were behind Slangenberg. Marlborough was compelled for once to abandon his normally diplomatic tone. He appealed to them with real passion.

'Gentlemen,' he began, looking around the blank Dutch faces, 'everything needful has been done. I have reconnoitred the ground and made dispositions for an attack. I am convinced that conscientiously, and as men of honour, we cannot now retire without an action. Should we neglect this opportunity, we must be responsible before God and man.' He heard the snort from Slangenberg and raised his voice. 'You see the confusion which pervades the ranks of the enemy and their embarrassment at our manoeuvres. I leave you to judge whether we should attack today or wait until tomorrow. It is indeed late, but you must consider that, by throwing up entrenchments during the night, the enemy will render their position far more difficult to force.'

Daniel was impressed with his ardour and conviction but it had not won over his allies. Some of the comments he heard in Dutch were not ones he cared to translate for the commander- in-chief. General Slangenberg and his supporters felt hurt that they had not been taken fully into Marlborough's confidence before they had set out on the expedition. The argument waxed and waned then waxed afresh. By the time it was four o'clock in the afternoon, all possibility of action that day had completely vanished. The French had been let off the hook. Afternoon merged into evening yet still the dispute went on. It was a revelation to Daniel, the first time he had had some insight into the immense difficulty of making decisions in a coalition army. His admiration for Marlborough soared. In spite of the huge pressure on him, never once did he lose his temper. At the end of the meeting, when the disgruntled Dutch contingent had withdrawn, Daniel went across to the commander-in-chief.

'You argued your case superbly, Your Grace,' he said.

Marlborough was despondent. 'I failed, Daniel.'

'You persuaded some of them. I heard them say as much.'

'There was animosity in the eyes of the rest of them. General Slangenberg was more obstructive than ever. What kind of a commander believes that his personal baggage is more important than an artillery train? By causing that delay, he wrecked the whole enterprise.'

'Perhaps they'll agree to an attack tomorrow,' said Daniel.

'There's not the slightest hope of that,' conceded Marlborough. 'If they're afraid to attack the enemy when it's at its weakest and most disordered, they'll not even consider action tomorrow. The French will be too well-fortified. No, Daniel,' he continued, 'the only option for us is to withdraw and let Marshal Villeroi claim a victory. The moment he sees us pull back, he'll write to King Louis to boast that he scared us into an ignominious retreat.'

'But that's not what happened at all.'

'That's how it will be portrayed at Versailles and we can do nothing to stop it. I know that you have Dutch blood in you,' said Marlborough, bitterly, 'and I hope you'll not take offence at my opinion of your fellow-countrymen.'

'I'm as much English as Dutch, Your Grace.'

'Then I speak to you as an Englishman because I know that you fight like one. The conduct of this war has nearly driven me insane.' Pursing his lips, he shook his head dejectedly. "There are times — and this is certainly one of them — when I'm forced to conclude that the Dutch, our allies, have caused us far more trouble than the French.'

Johannes Mytens was a big, fleshy man in his forties with heavy jowls that shook as he talked. As a member of the States-

General, the Dutch parliament, he had considerable influence and had garnered support both inside and outside the chamber. A wealthy man, he lived in a large house in the most fashionable quarter of The Hague. He was glad to welcome a visitor from Amsterdam that day. They sat either side of a walnut table in the sombre interior of the voorhuis.

'How is business, Willem?' asked Mytens.

'My business is thriving,' replied Willem Ketel, 'and it would thrive even more if we were not caught up in this damaging war. When roads are closed and enemy soldiers sit on our borders, merchants like me are hemmed in. When will it end? That's what I ask.'

'It's a question we often discuss in the chamber.'

'Are you any nearer to resolving the problem, Johannes?'

'No,' admitted the other.

'Then the war could drag on indefinitely.'

Mytens sighed. "There's every indication that it might.'

'What a sickening prospect!'

Ketel was an old friend of the politician's. Short, angular and now in his fifties, he had small darting eyes set in a wizened face. His wig covered a head that was bald and mottled. While Mytens chose relatively flamboyant attire, Ketel preferred dark clothing that gave him a clerical air. He had a habit of sucking his teeth before he spoke.

'Nothing of consequence was gained this year,' he said. 'We were all misled by the happy outcome at the battle of Blenheim.'

'It was happier for the Duke of Marlborough than it was for us, Willem,' observed Mytens. 'He claimed all the glory while we lost a large number of men.'

'He's never given our army any credit.'

'All that we ever get from him are complaints. After the retreat from the River Yssche, he had the gall to write to Heinsius to demand that General Slangenberg be dismissed.'

'What did the Grand Pensionary do?'

'He foolishly acceded to the demand.'

Ketel was outraged. 'He dismissed a man of the general's ability?'

'Slangenberg was persuaded to retire. That kept his reputation intact and pacified the Duke. In my view, Slangenberg would have made a better commander-in-chief.'

'We need someone to end the war not to continue it.'

'What's the feeling in Amsterdam?'

'We've always been less hostile to France than you here in The Hague. We see the advantages of trade with her. I used to export almost a third of my goods to Paris. What we need is a peace treaty.'

'The Duke will not hear of it.'

'That's because he puts British interests before ours, Johannes. The French are ready to parley. They have no wish for this war to go on. It's very costly and they've suffered heavy casualties. I believe that King Louis wants peace as much as we do.'

'On what terms, Willem — there's the rub!'

"They must be honourable terms that satisfy both sides.'

'There's no such thing. Someone must lose and someone gain.'

'End the fighting and we're all beneficiaries,' said Ketel, eyes blazing with certainty. 'I know that the Duke will not give in until France renounces its claim to the Spanish throne but that will never happen. It's pointless to hold out for something that can never be attained.'

'I felt at the start that it could be attained,' said Mytens, his jowls wobbling. 'The thought that France could annexe Spain and take control of its empire was terrifying. It would have a monopoly on trade in all those colonies.'

'Nobody was more worried than me, Johannes. Yet now that it has happened — now that Spain has a French king — it doesn't seem quite so terrible. Besides,' he went on, adjusting his wig, 'we could gain concessions. Were we to sue for peace, we could insert terms in the treaty that would protect our merchants. We're a trading nation, for heaven's sake. That's our destiny. In fair competition, we're the equal of anyone.'

'You speak to the converted, Willem. For some time, I've been talking about the need to open negotiations with France.'

'What's been the response?'

'I hear that tired old slogan — No peace without Spain!'

'We strike too hard a bargain.'

The door opened and the maidservant brought in a flagon of wine and two glasses on a tray. When she had set the tray down on the table, Mytens dismissed her with a flick of the wrist. He poured wine into both glasses then handed one to Ketel.

'What shall we drink to, Willem?' he asked.

'To the only thing worth having,' said Ketel, 'and that's the prospect of peace.'

'It's a very long way off, I fear. Unless the Duke is dismissed from his command, there's no hope of an end to this war, even though it's killing our soldiers and bleeding our coffers dry.'

'Then the Duke must go. He's the barrier to peace.'

'Heinsius will not hear of it.'

'Why must the decision be left in his hands?'

'He'll always overrule critics like me, Willem.'

'Then let's find another way to remove the obstruction,' said Ketel, slyly. 'It's in everyone's interest to do so, after all. Let me ask you a straight question, Johannes.' He sucked his teeth. 'How far would you go to get rid of the Duke of Marlborough?'

Mytens met his gaze as he considered his reply. Instead of putting it into words, however, he simply raised his glass in a silent toast. Ketel gave a thin smile. They had sealed a bond.