Young bloods

Chapter 59

As the year came to an end, Napoleon received a letter from the War Office in Paris, ordering him to return to the artillery regiment in Auxonne. He still bitterly resented the conditions under which he had been sent on leave – been sent into exile it felt more like – so he simply ignored the letter and carried on drilling his men, and drawing up his plans. Christmas passed with all the usual religious festivals, and Napoleon kept out of sight rather than risk any further trouble over his opinions about the Church. His reputation at the Jacobin Club had won him little affection amongst many of the people of Ajaccio and his family feared for his life.

Early in the new year Napoleon took the volunteer battalion into the country to train them in battle tactics. On a wet, windy February afternoon he put in place the first step of his scheme. He was standing on a hillside beside Colonel Quenza, both men hunched inside their greatcoats as the rain dripped from the brims of their hats. Below them, spread across the rocky floor of a narrow valley, the men of the battalion were manoeuvring into a line of battle to take on an imaginary fortification that had been marked out with stakes some distance ahead. Napoleon was giving a running commentary to his superior, and explaining the new formation he was experimenting with.

'You'll notice that the battalion is formed up with a column at each end of the line.'

'Yes,' Quenza said.'I had wondered about that.What's this new gimmick for, Buona Parte? What's wrong with using the old column of advance, eh?'

Napoleon pointed to the distant stakes. 'Let's assume that there are cannon in those fortifications, sir. If we sent the men forward in column they'd be cut to pieces. If we sent them forward in line formation, we'd lose far less men, but when we reached the defences we would lack the necessary concentration of force to break through. This mixed formation seems to offer the best chance, besides protecting both flanks against any surprise attacks.'

Quenza watched the battalion advance steadily over the broken ground, keeping its formation as it progressed. He nodded his satisfaction.'You've done wonders with the men, Buona Parte. I'm very pleased with you.'

'Thank you, sir.' Napoleon bowed his head modestly. Now was the time to speak, he decided. He cleared his throat. 'In my judgement, as a professional soldier, your battalion is as good as any in the French Army. Better than most perhaps. Certainly better than the garrison in Ajaccio.'

Quenza's chest swelled a little with pride. 'Yes. We could show them a thing or two.'

'We could, sir.' Napoleon smiled. 'So why don't we?'

Quenza turned towards him with a puzzled expression. 'What do you mean?'

'Just this. If your battalion can perform to the highest standards, then we really don't need to have the garrison there to protect us. Our battalion could take over the citadel and defend the town, if need be. I'm sure the government would be only too pleased to be relieved of the burden. God knows, they need more men in France at the moment.'

'Yes… yes, I imagine they do.'

'You might suggest that to General Paoli when you next write to him, sir.' Napoleon shrugged.'I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to have at least one Corsican town defended by Corsicans.'

'You're right!' Quenza's eyes gleamed. 'He'd be delighted by the idea! I know he would.'

When Paoli's response arrived, it was unequivocal. Quenza immediately sought out his subordinate in the Jacobin Club and thrust the letter in his hand.

'There! Read that!'

Napoleon took the letter and scanned the contents as Quenza stood impatiently bobbing up and down on his toes. 'Don't take all day, Buona Parte!'

Napoleon finished the letter and handed it back, forcing himself not to smile with satisfaction that Paoli had taken the bait. 'It seems the general doesn't think much of the idea.'

'Doesn't think much?' Quenza puffed with indignation, and he thrust a fat finger at the letter. 'Did you actually read it? He as good as accuses me of treason. And there! Look! He says that our men lack the competence to do the job properly… How dare he say that? The scoundrel. Selling us out to the French. My God, they're not even French, they're bloody Swiss! It's an outrage!'

Other members had gathered round to see what the shouting was about and now Quenza turned to them, brandishing the letter. 'An outrage, I tell you!'

The members looked back at him in confusion and incomprehension.

Napoleon gently took his sleeve. 'Sir, perhaps you had better explain. Or let me.'

'What?' Quenza glared at Napoleon and for an instant Napoleon feared that Quenza would speak for himself. But the man was so choked with rage that he merely nodded, and thrust Napoleon towards the rostrum.'Tell 'em.You tell 'em everything.'

With a show of reluctance Napoleon did as he was bid. The room was quickly filling up with an audience eager to hear what the charismatic young officer had to announce and he waited until the area in front of him was packed.

'Colonel Quenza has just received a letter from Pasquale Paoli. It seems that Citizen Paoli has no faith in the volunteer battalion of Ajaccio. He would prefer to trust the lives of our women and children to a mob of Swiss mercenaries. He thinks we are not competent enough, not brave enough, to defend our families.' Napoleon paused to let this sink in. As he had anticipated, the insult to the honour of Ajaccio's men produced expressions of outrage. He raised his arms to calm the audience. 'Will we let this man heap such shame upon us?'

The crowd roared out their defiance.

'Will we take this insult like cowards and curs?'

'NO! NEVER!'

'A true Corsican would die rather than suffer such an insult! We must protect our honour! We must avenge the great injustice done to Colonel Quenza and the fine men of the volunteer battalion!'

Quenza stiffened and tried to look like a hero as the members cheered him. Napoleon seized on the defiant mood and called for calm again.

'Only one action will suffice to save our honour.We must take the citadel into our own hands! We must take it now and prove that Corsicans can look after themselves! Officers of the battalion – summon your men! If Paoli is too afraid to liberate us from France, then we'll do the job ourselves!'

The room echoed with the cheers of the members of the Jacobin Club, and already the officers and men of the volunteer battalion were hurrying from the room to assemble their men. A few members who had remained silent during the debate slipped away with anxious expressions. Napoleon felt someone tugging at his sleeve and turned to see Quenza looking up at him with an anxious expression.

'I-I didn't mean for this to happen.'

'But, sir, he insulted you. He insulted every man in Ajaccio.'

'Yes, but-'

'It's too late now, sir. We must see this through or be branded cowards before the eyes of the whole of Corsica.'

Quenza winced, then bit his lip and glanced round the room. He nodded to himself and turned back to Napoleon, drawing himself up in an effort to look brave and soldierly. 'Come on, then, Buona Parte. To battle!'