Wolf Hunt

CHAPTER 31

DURING the night, plans were revised on both sides.

The Emperor still intended to attack the Austrian centre. Should he succeed, the enemy army would be annihilated. Napoleon wanted to achieve total victory to force Austria to surrender and to dissuade other countries from taking up arms against him. For that he had to weaken the enemy centre. He therefore chose to keep his left flank relatively fragile. It was very extended and only defended by Massena’s IV Corps. This weakness was in reality a trap. It was designed to entice the Archduke to attack on the French left. In this way Charles would be obliged to withdraw troops from his centre to reinforce the troops on his right charged with vanquishing the French left flank. In addition Davout was to overwhelm the Austrians on their left flank, to such an extent that other enemy regiments would also have to abandon the centre, to bolster this flank. And further, this French manoeuvre would prevent Archduke John’s forces from eventually joining his brother’s.

Napoleon would then launch his principal attack: a surge against the Austrian centre. The tactic of the weak flank had worked admirably at Austerlitz. But it was absolutely imperative that Masse-na hold firm on the left flank, which would be on the receiving end of a powerful Austrian attack.

However, Napoleon underestimated yet again the fighting spirit of the Austrians. He thought that Charles would limit himself to trying to break the French left. Against all expectation, the Austrian commander-in-chief opted for a widespread offensive. He not only decided to crush the left flank of the French with Kolowrat’s III Corps and Klenau’s VI Corps but he also ordered Rosenberg’s IV Corps to attack the French right flank while Bellegarde’s I Corps and Hohenzollern’s II Corps assailed the centre. The Liechtenstein reserve corps would launch the final onslaught.

On 6 July, at four in the morning, Rosenberg’s IV Corps flung itself on the French right flank constituted by Davout’s III Corps. Taken by surprise, Davout’s men began to fall back. Napoleon hurried to the area with Nansouty and d’Arrighi’s cuirassiers.

Meanwhile, Bellegarde’s I Corps took over the village of Aderklaa, which marked the angle between the French centre and its left flank. Bernadotte’s Saxon IX Corps, which had been severely tested by the previous evening’s panic, had evacuated the village. Marshal Bernadotte had considered that he would not be able to resist the Austrians and had withdrawn. Napoleon had never imagined losing Aderklaa to the Austrians; it was crucial to the success of his scheme. If the Grande Armée were to try to crush the Austrian centre with Aderklaa still in the hands of the enemy, the Austrian I Corps under Bellegarde would be free to come to offer support to the centre. In addition, the Archduke’s troops positioned on the right would be able to join the endangered centre much more rapidly, because they would not have to waste time skirting round the village. So Napoleon ordered Marshal Massena, ‘the golden boy’ known for his victories, to retake Aderklaa. But this meant that several of Massena’s regiments would no longer be available to protect the left flank, which would become even more fragile.

Margont was serving in the Legrand Division of Massena’s IV Corps. Three of Massena’s divisions had massed to the north-east of the left flank, very near the centre. The Boudet Division had been left three miles from there to constitute the south-west of the left flank, with only three thousand seven hundred men facing fourteen thousand soldiers of Klenau’s VI Corps, who were not yet moving from their positions.

The 18th of the Line stayed still, in battle order, under a lowering sky of massive clouds. Margont tried to work out what was planned. Thanks to the many plumes of white smoke and to the din of the cannon and the fusillades, he could tell that battle had commenced on the French right. He asked Lefine and Saber for their opinions. The former always knew everything and the latter had a particular talent for seeing through the plans of the general staff. Lefine, normally sanguine, showed increasing signs of anxiety. He kept readjusting his coat. His agitated fingers seemed to knit his worry.

‘We’re on the left wing! The wings are unlucky! At Austerlitz, don’t you remember? Our right flank was destroyed! The Emperor adores offering up a flank, it’s well known.’

Saber also seemed put out.

There’s a better chance of promotion in the centre than on the wings. How much longer am I going to languish in the role of subaltern? For pity’s sake, if they would only give me a regiment, you would see what I am capable of! But no, here we are on the edge of the “Route to Glory”! What terrible luck!’

‘There’s something I can’t grasp,’ said Margont worriedly. ‘If we're to the north-east of the left wing ... who exactly is the left wing?’ ‘Boudet,’ replied Saber.

Margont, Lefine and Piquebois looked at him in consternation. ‘Surely there must be other divisions ...’ said Lefine.

When they looked towards the south-west they could indeed only see Boudet’s division, a minuscule dark blue rectangle surrounded by the immense golden blanket of ripe corn that no peasant had come to harvest. Whereas looking towards the centre, they could make out a stupefying conglomeration of troops. The regiments were stacked one against the other. Column succeeded column, blue rectangle succeeded blue rectangle, lines of cuirassiers glinted in the sun, batteries were positioning themselves ... Compared to these masses, Boudet’s division appeared derisory, a little stone fallen by accident from Napoleon’s pocket. ‘It’s bait designed to attract a very large Austrian fish,’ explained Saber. ‘But if the fish is hungry and if he struggles, he will swallow everything ...’

Should Boudet’s division get into difficulties, there was every chance that the Legrand Division, the closest unit, would be sent to help them out. Margont realised that after having been unwitting bait in Relmyer’s trap, he now found himself bait once again, this time in Napoleon’s trap ...

Massena was being carried in a barouche, having been injured a few days earlier in a fall from his horse. His carriage, pulled by four white horses, attracted round shot that missed the marshal but felled the members of his general staff one by one. Massena had come to supervise the assault on the village of Aderklaa. He launched the Carra Saint-Cyr Division, which did indeed succeed in taking over the village. Bernadotte’s Saxons supported it on the right. But the soldiers of Carra Saint-Cyr, galvanised by their success, passed on from Aderklaa and flung themselves on Belle-garde’s Austrians, whereupon they were decimated by horrifying fire power. Archduke Charles arrived to lead a counterattack and the Austrians retook the village. The Saxons were in the process of withdrawing when the enemy light cavalry charged them. Under the nose of the appalled Marshal Bernadotte, the majority of IX Saxon Corps disintegrated into a mass of fleeing men. Napoleon, who had hurried to the right flank to try to avert disaster, crossed the battlefield in the opposite direction, trying to rally the fleeing and demoralised Saxons.

Margont was facing his company to make sure they were correctly aligned. He saw with astonishment dozens of faces registering horror. He turned round to see a knot of soldiers in flight. It was a frightening rout. Saxons, French and Hessians were running until they were out of breath, barging into each other. This wave was hurrying towards the Legrand Division. Lefine looked at this spectacle, unable to take it in, as if it were a vast optical illusion.

‘Well, we’re not ready to play “Victory Is Ours” he murmured. ‘Don’t panic! Close ranks!’ exclaimed Margont.

Everywhere, officers were giving similar orders. If the Legrand Division did not manage to stay in battle order, the Austrians would attack it in its turn.

Piquebois, who considered himself rather dashing playing the role of the wounded soldier bravely preparing to enter battle again, a role he supplemented with an entirely unnecessary cane, shouted: ‘Don’t worry, the 8th Hussars are in the vicinity! I was one of them; they’re a fiercesome bunch! I’ll break my cane over the head of the first man to run for it!’

Saber was even more vindictive.

‘We don’t need the Saxons! They’re traitors! I’m sure they did it on purpose because they’re hand in glove with the Austrians! We’ll have them shot after the victory.’

But the ranks broke up anyway, undulating and fusing together ...

the formation becoming more and more confused. The recruits were no longer listening to anything. Many had practically never fought. Up until now, they had imagined that battles took place in an orderly fashion; that Napoleon understood the situation in a single glance, clicked his fingers to make the soldiers advance and a great victory was immediately won. This debacle alarmed them. They had the impression that it was the entire Grande Armée that was fleeing and they certainly did not want to be the last to have stayed in place ...

Margont saw his company subsiding in on itself as if squeezed by gigantic invisible hands. It was like a child curling up into a ball. ‘Stay calm! Close up,’ he repeated, while the first fugitives ran past him.

Major Materre suddenly appeared at full gallop, and pulled on his reins. His horse pirouetted, finally stopped, and snorted. The superior officer was outraged.

‘Captain Margont, keep control of your company! You’re causing chaos!’

The major immediately departed again, which worried the infantry still further. The bulk of the fleeing soldiers was now almost upon them and as they could not go round the Legrand Division, they struck through the middle, barging through the ranks, knocking over the aligned infantry, who took advantage of the chaos to join them ... The fugitives were like a hailstorm carrying away fragments of the formation. Officers hit them with the flat of their sabres to frighten them and oblige them to stop. The entire division began to retreat in a gigantic mass, carried gradually away by the flood.

Saber hurried over to Margont. ‘Has someone given the order to retreat? Must we stay in position or should we pull back?’

‘What do I know?’

General Legrand’s seven thousand men were moving backwards at a growing pace. Loud detonations could be heard, coming more and more quickly until they turned into a continuous roar. Belle-garde’s Austrians had installed batteries in front of the village of Aderklaa and were bombarding the French at point-blank range.

The round shot decimated the lines of infantry, causing horrifying gaps. Now the Legrand Division resembled a gigantic creature from which the Austrian artillery was tearing lumps of flesh. A ball ricocheted past Margont and landed on his company, scything off a series of legs. Margont froze, petrified, and then mechanically followed his retreating men.

‘Close ranks!’ he shouted, his mind focused on one thing: if the division did not stay packed closely together, it would be exterminated.

The left flank and the left of the French centre were on the brink of collapse. Bellegarde’s I Corps and the élite Liechtenstein Corps would have been able to launch a massive attack on that weakened part of the French army. But Archduke Charles was a prudent strategist. He insisted that a corps should only advance after he was certain that it could stay linked to its neighbouring corps, so as to avoid leaving any breaches in their line. Bellegarde therefore waited for the arrival of Kolowrat’s III Corps on his right, before acting. But Kolowrat still had several miles to cover because he

was positioned too far west, the Archduke having thought that Napoleon would choose the same battlefield as he had used in May.

Napoleon profited from this relative respite. He went to the menaced zone and succeeded in rallying some of the fleeing soldiers. He immediately sent the remains of the Saxon regiments to the centre of his arrangement - the safest position - so that they could regain their confidence. The Legrand and Carra Saint-Cyr Divisions stopped retreating and began to re-establish themselves for battle. Nansouty’s cuirassiers, come to reinforce these divisions, offered protection. Napoleon was therefore present for an impressive spectacle. The enemy right wing finally began to act, after having been delayed by the slow working of the Austrian army mechanism. Kolowrat’s sixteen thousand men started to attack the north-east of the French left flank, while Klenau’s fourteen thousand soldiers of VI Corps marched against the south-west, defended only by Boudet’s division and the heavy artillery of the Isle of Lobau. The noise of the long, wide white columns advancing was deafening. They streaked the plain in perfectly ordered lines.

It was both good and catastrophic news for Napoleon. Good news because the Austrians were falling into his trap. Catastrophic because, with the poor state of the left flank and the left part of the centre, it could be considered that in fact it was the French who were falling into their own snare. A race against time began: Napoleon had to smash the Austrian centre before his adversaries could sweep away his left flank.

Napoleon ordered the methodical Marshal Davout, commander of the right wing, who had just repulsed the assault by Rosenberg’s Austrians, to attack the enemy left flank. Davout was to take the village of Markgrafneusiedl, situated at the end of the plateau of Wagram. General Oudinot received the order to attack the enemy centre. Multitudes of blue troops surged forward while multicoloured cavalry charged. The French went at it furiously, as did the Austrians. Both front lines were constantly reinforced, devouring regiments at a pace impossible to grasp.

On the left, the danger was increasing. Boudet’s division, overcome and still retreating, nevertheless tried to stem as much as possible the flow of Austrians along the bank of the Danube. General Boudet had wanted to entrench in Aspern, but Wallmod-en’s hussars had just massacred his gunners and had taken his fourteen cannon. He had therefore been forced to evacuate the village using sabre blows as defence ... Instead of sending reinforcements to his left, Napoleon had chosen to save his reserve infantry to use later to exploit an eventual breach of the Austrian centre. So he improvised another solution: Massena’s IV Corps was going to form a marching column and descend to the southwest to stop Klenau’s VI Corps. The problem was that in manoeuvring in this way, Massena first had to turn his back on the Austrian I Corps under Bellegarde, and the élite Liechtenstein Corps. Then he would expose his flank to Kolowrat’s III Corps before finally arriving level with the villages of Aspern and Essling, near the Danube, to confront Klenau. This five-mile march down the French left flank was likely to be extremely dangerous. To try to protect this manoeuvre Napoleon decided to use the cavalry and the artillery instead of infantry, which was most unusual in this type of movement. Lasalle’s light cavalry, Nansouty’s heavy cavalry and the cavalry of the Guard charged the Austrians intent on immobilising them. General Lauriston, who commanded the artillery of the Guard, was commanded to form a giant battery. He assembled all the pieces of artillery he could find - those of the Guard, of Prince Eugene and of the Bavarians under General de Wrede - and began to place the hundred and twelve cannon in a mile-long line along the north-east of the left flank, replacing Massena’s troops, who were about to depart. Over and above that, Napoleon gave the order to retake the village of Aderklaa. Moli-tor’s division, part of Massena’s IV Corps, succeeded in taking it. But it was clear that they would not keep it because the Austrians would try everything to recapture it. Aderklaa must hold out as long as possible in order to occupy the efforts of the troops of Bellegarde and Liechtenstein. In fact that village would serve as a lightning conductor to protect the back of IV Corps.

The majority of Massena’s corps therefore formed into a column.

Then the superior officers ordered, ‘Column, head left.’ This enormous formation of twenty thousand men began to march south-westwards. The new recruits were worried.

Margont was at the head of his company, sword in hand.

‘Where are we going?’ wondered Saber aloud. ‘And if we leave, who will make up the north of the left wing?’

In the ranks, the infantry exchanged appalled looks or questioned the non-commissioned officers.

‘Are we retreating, Sergeant?’ a conscript asked Lefine.

‘Everything’s all right! Everything’s going to plan,’ Lefine assured him.

An Austrian battery thundered in the south, near the Danube. ‘We’re encircled!’ yelled a fusilier.

‘The little Corsican is defeated!’ another one yelled louder.

The order of the companies changed again. The infantry speeded up; entire lines collided ... Sergeants and captains hurried to restore cohesion. Massena’s giant column resembled a house of cards on the point of collapse.

Margont trampled the fields of golden corn, hiding his anxiety. There were Austrians massed at his back, all along his right and facing him, in the south-west. He could see enemy columns all around like giant white worms rampaging across the plain towards them to devour them. The Austrian right wing was vastly superior in number to them and they had practically not fought at all.

‘Slow down, Corporal Pelain!’ he exclaimed for the fifth time, for his company had a tendency to catch up the company in front.

In reply came overhead whistles, and explosions rang out on all sides. A shell exploded in the middle of his company, throwing broken bodies into the air. The round shot plundered the rows of soldiers, like black bowling balls knocking over a line of skittles ... The survivors, spattered with human debris, stepped over mutilated bodies as they battled through the palls of smoke. Incandescent flashes ignited fires and these infernos burnt alive the wounded, unable to move. In spite of the unbearable sights around them, the formation had to stay together at all costs to intimidate the Austrians and keep them at bay.

Margont, ashen-faced, shouted: ‘Close ranks! Keep in line! Realign yourselves!’

Hundreds of other voices repeated the same instructions all along the column, in an endless echo interrupted by explosions and by the cries of the wounded.

The giant battery was not yet ready to support Massena’s IV Corps. The gun carriages were hurrying to their positions where the artillery busied themselves like ants around their guns to ready them for action. There was one cannon every twenty paces, over a mile stretch. Nothing like it had ever been seen before.

Massena decided to launch his light cavalry against the enemy, to prevent them from attacking his flank and finishing off the troops decimated by the round shot. To charge an enemy army aligned in battle order was not what hussars and mounted chasseurs usually did. Normally they were used for reconnaissance, for harassing the enemy and pursuing them when they were in retreat. But Massena only had Lasalle and Marulaz’s light cavalry at his disposal. These two thousand combatants launched themselves at the sixteen thousand men of Kolowrat’s III Corps.

The cavalry set off in a cacophony of hammering hoofs, whinnying and trumpet blasts. The 8th Hussars were at their head, riding in sparse groups. Relmyer was amongst the first. Pagin and Major Batichut were slightly ahead of him, hard on the heels of General Lasalle and his escort. The hussars were yelling, their faces whipped by the wind, brandishing their sabres, drunk with the excitement of their speed and the madness of war. They saw the enemy masses rapidly grow larger. In front of their eyes, regiments hastily formed square, lines of Austrian or Hungarian fusiliers took aim, battalions of the Landwehr or of Volunteers organised themselves as well as they could, artillerymen reloaded their cannon, uhlans, dressed all in green, before charging the assailants with their lances ... Relmyer bent low over his horse’s mane, his sabre in his hand. Pagin, sitting straight in his saddle, waved his sword, shouting, ‘Hurrah! Hurrah!’ The Austrians disappeared in the white smoke of their gunfire. A ball to the chest felled Pagin in the full flush of youth. Hussars were slipping out of their stirrups, collapsing with their mounts, shot to pieces by balls or canister shot ... The cavalry fought the Austrians. They sabred the artillerymen, massacred the isolated infantry, crushed the regiments ... Relmyer threw himself on a group of soldiers in grey coats. Suddenly he jumped. Here! Right here! He had just spotted him. It was him! The man he was hunting! Relmyer began to sabre with fury to clear a passage as far as his tormentor. But it seemed to him that the face kept moving, disappearing only to reappear elsewhere, like a reflection projected onto face after face in that crowd. Relmyer struck, slashed, struck ... Forms collapsed, soldiers threw themselves to the ground to avoid his blade, many fled and were killed by other hussars ...The formation finally broke up. It was a battalion of the Landwehr from Prague and not the Viennese Volunteers at all.

Finally the cavalry yielded to the superior number of their enemies and left at the gallop under a hail of Austrian bullets and round shot, taking away with them two cannon stolen from the enemy. During this time the Great Battery had finished positioning itself.

The one hundred and twelve cannon opened fire on Kolowrat’s III Corps, generating a thunderous roar loud enough to drive the soldiers mad. The round shot caused chaos amongst the Austrians, flattening their ranks, destroying the lines, cutting the columns to pieces, and exploding the artillery’s ammunition wagons ... Kolowrat, stopped in his tracks by this barrage of fire, pulled his troops back to put them out of reach of the canister. He placed all his cannon in position and ordered a counterbarrage of fire. Whilst the two artilleries fought a titanic duel, pulverising each other cannon for cannon, Massena’s IV Corps pursued its course under that hail of projectiles. To encourage his soldiers, Massena placed the musicians of one of the regiments at the head of the column to belt out military marches, the drum major, in his lace-trimmed coat, twirling his silver-topped cane ...

The attack on the Austrian centre was starting to turn in favour of the French. In spite of the hand-to-hand conflict and the counterattacks, Charles did not succeed in checking the French advance. Yet the French left was still in danger. To the north-west the din of

the Great Battery was gradually diminishing. Austrian fire was decimating the artillerymen. Napoleon decided to hide this weakness, otherwise the Archduke would have immediately ordered his troops to attack that part of the front. He therefore called on the volunteer soldiers in the ranks of his Guard, who arrived to mingle with the surviving gunners. They manoeuvred the guns in the midst of the bodies of the artillerymen they were replacing and whom they soon joined one after the other, before being replaced themselves. The Great Battery increased the rhythm of its firing and the Austrians did not realise how much the wing was breaking up under their rain of balls.

To the south-west the situation was veering towards disaster. The poor Boudet Division was still having to withdraw and now found itself level with Lobau. The advance of Klenau’s VI Corps seemed irresistible and the Austrians were nearly at the bridges, the only escape route available to the French.

Faced with the danger of the Austrians cutting off the bridges, Napoleon was forced to change his plans. Instead of keeping all his reserve troops to send in at the end against the Austrian centre, he took a large part of them — the Italian army of Prince Eugene - and directed it towards the north of the left wing. This change of plan had several consequences. It supported the left flank but also meant that not all French efforts were concentrated on the single objective of attacking the enemy centre. So the eventual breakthrough would not have the devastating results hoped for by the Emperor.

General Macdonald, serving under Prince Eugene, was assigned to lead this manoeuvre. Adhering to his convictions, he still wore his old republican general’s uniform, which Napoleon did not appreciate. He formed a square, each monumental side stretching for half a mile. The survivors of a large part of the Italian army, that is to say eight thousand men, stood closely packed together to form the edges, while Macdonald and his general staff were placed in the clear space in the centre. This square began to march in the direction of Kolowrat’s III Corps and the élite Liechtenstein Corps. Macdonald had chosen this unusual formation to protect himself

from the cavalry and because his troops included an enormous number of conscripts. They were too inexperienced to be able to advance in line or to change formation under fire. The formation was, however, inconvenient. It moved slowly and as the soldiers found themselves massed in a restricted space, Austrian fire power converged on them, causing carnage. As the giant square advanced, it shed, leaving behind a carpet of wounded and dead. It nevertheless succeeded in resisting attack by Scharzenberg’s dragoons, helped by the support of Nansouty’s four thousand cuirassiers and carabineers, and by the cavalry of the Guard, which launched repeated charges on the enemy flanks. The cavalry fell like rain under the canister shot and the bullets before being struck by Hesse-Hombourg’s cuirassiers. The mounted chasseurs of the Guard harried the enemy infantry, which held firm, while the Polish Light Horse attacked Scharzenberg’s uhlans. They seized the uhlans’ lances, their favourite weapon, and improvised as lancers. Part of the Great Battery also helped Macdonald with their fire. Finally the Austrians began to retreat but continued to fight.

In less than an hour, Macdonald’s giant square had ceased to exist. Only one thousand five hundred of its soldiers survived unhurt. But the Austrians, shaken and worried about their centre and left flank, did not succeed in exploiting this success.

Napoleon then launched his last reserves, including General Wrede’s Bavarians dressed up as if for a parade, the Young Guard and Marmot’s XI Corps, against the centre and the north of the Austrian right flank. He kept with him only two regiments of his Old Guard. Archduke Charles, in contrast, had already used all his available soldiers.

After two hours of marching interspersed with fighting, Massena’s column finally arrived to face the troops of Klenau’s VI Corps.

Three miles away, on the other side of the Danube, the Viennese were watching the battle perched on the roofs of houses, on clock towers, on ramparts and neighbouring hills. Thousands of plumes of smoke smothered the plain and the plateau of Wagram, and filled the sky. Half the world seemed to be burning. But the spectators could make out Klenau’s regiments, the closest to them,

and they cheered the line of white soldiers flowing along the river-bank and increasingly pushing back the astonishingly few blue troops. The flow of white was ravaging the back of the French army and playing a significant role in the outcome of the battle. Then Massena’s column appeared, sliding slowly through the fields of corn. To the Viennese it looked like a monster, a great dark blue Leviathan interspersed with the shimmering reflections of bayonets and sabres. Klenau’s forces were made up of white blotches like enormous snowflakes, which moved, changed shape, regrouped or were absorbed by a village. Looked at from that distance, the war seemed unreal. The blood did not reach as far as the spectators.

The Viennese encouraged their troops by waving their hats and white favours. Their cries could not be heard above the tumult of combat. Luise’s loyalties were divided. As much as she rejoiced at the advance of the Austrians she also felt they were tearing away a part of her. She did not know whether Relmyer and Margont were among the French marching on Aspern and Essling and if they might die at any minute as she watched from afar.

Massena’s giant column split into several. These branches divided up in their turn and burgeoned into regiments in battle order. Massena directed part of his forces to the west against Hohenfeld and Kottu I insky’s divisions. The Boudet Division, having withdrawn as far as the bridges, received Marulaz’s light cavalry as reinforcement. It was to retake Aspern. General Legrand meanwhile had been ordered to take Essling where Vincent’s division had retrenched. The cannon on Lobau would back up these assaults.

Margont’s company, a hundred soldiers strong, was arranged in a column three soldiers wide. The seventeen other companies of the 18th replicated this geometric pattern, making up blocks that together made one column of attack. The 26th Light Brigade, which was ahead of the 18th, was arranged in the same manner. This hammerhead was preparing to strike the village of Essling, swarming with Austrians.

‘What’s happening? Where are we? Are we losing or are we

winning?’ demanded a soldier, his face as white as a sheet. Piquebois stopped in front of him.

‘Well, I’ve just been discussing at length with the Emperor. He said: “My dear Piquebois, let me tell you my secret plans for the battle: tell our good soldiers to fire on anything that moves.’”

The ruins of Essling appeared intermittently through the smoke of the cannon fire. The facades of the houses were punctured by holes made by round shot, Austrians were keeping guard on the collapsed roofs ... There were also entrenchments. Lefine began to laugh. It was unbelievable. A month and a half earlier, he had almost been killed twice in the village of Aspern, not a mile from here. Now after six weeks of encounters, emotions and pleasure punctuated by some moments of fear, here he was again. It was a case of deja vu. As if the gods or Destiny had said to themselves: ‘What? They didn’t all die at the Battle of Essling, these little humans? We must correct that oversight: we’ll send them back there and this time we’ll kill every last one of them.’ Lefine was often ironic, but he was forced to admit that he had nothing on what life could offer in that respect.

With Saber, fear induced hatred. He was pacing up and down along the ranks of the company.

‘Remember how we marched under the bullets. It’s payback time: we’ll make them dance Napoleon-style!’

He went up to Margont, who was watching the crowd of Viennese. The smoky atmosphere made it appear that they belonged to another world, floating in the clouds. Saber pointed in their direction.

‘How I would love to have some cannon to point at them.

We would just need them to come a little closer...’

The next day he would repent of having uttered such a barbarous threat, but at that moment he meant what he said. War had changed him into a monster.

‘Why don’t you address our soldiers, to motivate them?’ Margont suggested, to divert his attention.

Saber liked nothing better. He launched into his tenth harangue of the day, evoking heroism and the prospect of promotion.

‘Our only limitation is ourselves!’ he cried.

Margont, who was barely listening, suddenly looked at his friend. But Saber had nothing more to say and concluded his speech. All his speeches ended in the same way: ‘What does our Emperor say about us?’ he bellowed.

As always, dozens of men replied enthusiastically: “‘Brave men of the 18th, I know you: the enemy will not be able to withstand your attack.”’

This phrase, endlessly repeated, bolstered them like a mantra.

The village of Essling marked the most advanced point of the march of the Austrian army into the back of the French army. It was the key position in the confrontation between Massena and Klenau. The 26th Light Division and the 18th of the Line began to make their move to the sound of beating drums.

‘Forwards! Forwards!’ cried the officers.

The soldiers advanced, packed so tightly one against the other that even had one of them wanted to flee they would not have been able to. The village of Essling came to life, as if the myriad

Austrians occupying it had been reanimated. Plumes and plumes of white smoke were released as artillery and their hordes of gunners stormed into action, like a volcano erupting. And at the same time, there were explosions on all sides, caused by the fury of the fire from the heavy artillery on the Isle of Lobau. Buildings were blown to smithereens but their smoking debris was immediately blanketed with new soldiers defending the village. That determination impressed the French - these Austrians were not the same breed as they had fought at Austerlitz. Those Austrians had rapidly thrown in the towel under pressure. Margont did not understand their resistance - he wanted to shout that they should ally themselves with Napoleon against their oppressive monarchies. But the Austrian bullets responded to his dreams of brotherhood by storming his ranks. The drums beat out the charge, one of the few sounds distinguishable in the uproar all around.

‘Long live the Emperor!’ yelled the infantry.

The 26th Light Infantry and the 18th of the Line swarmed into the village and its redoubts. Saber, with sabre aloft, speeded up to

overtake Margont and lead the company in a shock frontal attack on the Austrians barricading the main street. The two sides fired at point-blank range before throwing themselves at each other. Smoke drowned everything. Margont was suffocating in the blanket of fog and could recognise no one in the tumult of gesticulating figures. The flares of successive gunshots were like chaotic will-o’-the-wisps. Soldiers were firing so near to Margont that he could feel the burning wind of the guns on his face. Ghostly shadows hurried towards him, filling out and revealing themselves as enemy soldiers. A Hungarian tried to hit him in the face with the butt of his rifle. Margont dodged but, encumbered by the soldiers around him, could only defend himself by striking his assailant on the chin with the hilt of his sword. Pain forced the Hungarian to drop his weapon. The flow of French knocked him over and trampled on him. A dismounted hussar - one of Wallmoden’s cavalry - flung himself on Margont. The hussar was wounded all over and bleeding copiously, and there was a mad glint in his eye. His sabre was bent from having broken the skulls of Boudet's artillerymen.

He tried to decapitate Margont, crying, ‘Austria!’ but Margont bent his knees just in time.

‘We must save our major!’ yelled a conscript, confusing Margont with his superior officer. The young soldier perforated the hussar’s abdomen with his bayonet while the latter ran him through with his sword. The sappers of the 18th broke down doors with their axes and the French poured into the barricaded houses. Margont was swept forward on one of these waves; those following him were foolish enough to believe that they would find safety in there. Infantrymen were firing in a dining room and finishing their work with bayonets. In a corner of the room two Hungarians were sheltering behind a knocked over table, defending their pathetic excuse for a fortress. A lieutenant set off up the stairs, trailing grenadiers in his wake and driving back the Austrians, who defended each step. The massacre continued all the way to the first floor. Finally the building was taken. There was an exodus — soldiers running out to be sucked into the confrontations in the streets. Others lingered, pretending to be wounded or helping

those who really were. Margont was about to leave when he spotted a little branch of oak on the floor. Austrians and Hungarians had a tradition of attaching a few leaves of holly, willow or poplar to their helmets or shakos ... The tradition symbolised their desire to make peace. But these leaves were red, bathing in a pool of already coagulating blood.

Margont reached the street again. The melee had moved on, leaving hundreds of bodies in its wake. A captain was trying to stand up, leaning on his sabre planted in the ground. Wounded soldiers were clinging to the legs of the able-bodied, pleading for help, or at least for a drink. Others were propped against ruined walls. Margont joined the nearest French soldiers. They had crossed Essling. Austrians were fleeing before their eyes or throwing their arms on the ground and turning themselves in as prisoners. ‘Victory! We’ve won!’ cried the French.

Lefine came to join Margont, tears of joy making tracks on his cheeks blackened by gunpowder.

‘We’re still alive! At least I think we are ... I have the impression that Irénée stole your campaign.’

The most advanced troops of Klenau’s VI Corps were evacuating Essling in order to retrench in Aspern. But Austria’s spirit was broken and Aspern also found itself under assault. This halted Klenau’s spectacular progression; he was now isolated and informed Archduke Charles that he was retreating. This was very bad news for the Austrians and was rapidly followed by a series of other problems. John’s thirteen thousand men, desperately needed as reinforcement, would not be there for more than two hours ... The Austrian troops were overwhelmed and began to show signs of exhaustion when Napoleon’s fresh reserve troops assailed them. The Austrian left wing was in disarray, its right wing was drawing back and the centre was weakening by the minute. The Archduke therefore decided to order the retreat. He wanted at all costs to avoid the destruction of his army, because the fate of the Habs-burg monarchy depended on it. In choosing to give in now, he was leaving himself enough healthy troops to withdraw in good order and defend themselves against the French, who would certainly pursue them.

The Austrians had lost forty-five thousand soldiers, twenty-five thousand killed or wounded and twenty thousand taken prisoner. The French and their allies, thirty-five thousand, of which two-thirds had been killed or wounded.

Napoleon declared: The war has never been like this before. We have neither prisoners nor enemy cannon: today we have achieved nothing lasting.’