Young bloods

Chapter 74

General Carteaux was an imposing figure. Tall, broad-shouldered and, as befitted a former cavalry trooper, he had a dark curly moustache. He muttered softly as he read through the document that the young artillery officer had presented to him. Outside the tent the sounds of the encamped army filled the air – the whinnying of horses, the casual conversation of men off duty and the harsh cries of drill sergeants.

Napoleon had handed command of the ammunition convoy over to one of his lieutenants at first light. Taking one of the horses, he had then ridden hard down the road to Ollioules to find the headquarters of General Carteaux. As soon as he had finished reading Saliceti's letter of appointment Carteaux looked up.

'Captain Buona Parte, your credentials are impressive. Citizen Saliceti speaks very highly of you. He seems to think you can be of considerable assistance to me.'

'I hope so, sir.'

'So do I. But let me make one thing quite clear.' Carteaux stabbed his finger at Napoleon. 'This is my army, and I was soldiering when lads like you were still sucking at your mother's tit. I know what I'm doing and I don't take kindly to anyone telling me how to do my job.' He leaned back. 'I had enough of that from Dommartin.You artillery types think you know it all.'

Napoleon kept his mouth shut. There was nothing he could say without provoking this man's prejudices even further. It was better to weather his abuse and then get on with the job. He changed the subject.

'Sir, may I ask what your plans are for the siege?'

'My plans?' Carteaux smiled faintly. 'My plans are for me to know and you to carry out.'

'Of course, sir. But if you could let me know my part in them, then I can make sure the guns are ready to serve your needs.'

'Very well.' Carteaux eased himself to his feet and, picking up a telescope from the top of his travel chest, he headed for the entrance to the tent. 'Follow me, and I'll explain.'

Outside he led Napoleon to a small mound. From its crest the ground rolled downhill and there, maybe three miles away, lay the great port of Toulon, nestling beneath Mount Faron at the head of the inner harbour, where a great fleet of warships lay at anchor. Carteaux regarded the scene for a moment before addressing Napoleon.

'It's going to be a hard nut to crack. Besides the defences of the town itself, there's a number of forts that ring the port. The three largest are Malbousquet, there nearest us, LaMalgue on the far side of the harbour, and the fort on top of Mount Faron. We must take all three if we are to control the approaches to Toulon. And then,' Carteaux waved a hand over the shipping in the harbour, 'there's the enemy fleet to deal with.We've counted over twenty ships of the line so far, and there's rumoured to be even more on the way.'

'Rumoured?'

'We have our spies in Toulon. They keep us well enough informed on the enemy's strength and positions. At the moment, so they tell us, the enemy has over ten thousand men in Toulon. I have twelve thousand. So I must wait until I am heavily reinforced before I begin my attack. In the meantime, I want the cannon brought up ready to support my infantry when they assault the forts. That, Captain Buona Parte, is your job.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Now, I expect you will want to inspect your new command.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Very well. The artillery park is down the hill there.' He indicated a motley collection of tents some distance behind the crudely fortified positions of the advance posts. To one side sprawled the gun carriages and limbers of Carteaux's artillery train. There was little sense of order and the few men that were visible were sitting idly by a handful of smouldering campfires.

Carteaux nodded in their direction.'Off you go then, Captain. I want a report on the artillery's battle-readiness by the end of the day. Might as well do something useful before your replacement arrives.'

'Yes, sir.' Napoleon stood to attention and saluted formally. Carteaux nodded his head in acknowledgement and then strode back to his tent.

As he made his way down the slope Napoleon passed through the encampments of one of the regular infantry battalions. The men watched him sullenly as he passed by; only a few of them bothered to stand and salute. Even though the tents had been erected in straight lines the latrine ditches had been dug a short distance from the camp and were so shallow that they were already overflowing, and Napoleon wrinkled his nose in disgust as he hurried past them.

When he reached the artillery park he took a deep breath and marched up to the nearest campfire where three men sat smoking pipes. At the sound of his approach the men turned towards him but made no attempt to stand up and salute Napoleon.

'On your feet!' he shouted. 'Who the hell do you think you are?'

The three men rose and reluctantly adopted a more formal posture as they saluted. Napoleon's eyes blazed as he stepped up to the nearest man and knocked his pipe to the ground. 'What's your name, soldier?'

'Corporal Macon, sir.'

'Corporal? Where's your stripe then?'

'With my kit, sir.'

'Then that's where it can stay.You're Private Macon from now on.'

The soldier's eyes widened in surprise. 'You can't do that!'

'I'm your new commander,' Napoleon growled.'I can do what I like, Private.'

'No.' Macon shook his head. 'I protest.'

'Protest noted, and you're on a charge for insubordination.' Before the man could reply Napoleon turned to one of the other men. 'Name?'

'Private Barbet, sir.' The man stood to attention, as stiffly as he could.

'Right then, Barbet, who's the senior officer in the camp?'

'The officers are in Ollioules, sir.'

'Ollioules?'

'At the inn, sir.'

Napoleon's expression darkened. 'What kind of a miserable excuse for soldiers are you lot?'

The three soldiers stared straight ahead silently, not daring to meet his gaze.

'Pah!' Napoleon spat on the ground. 'You're a fucking disgrace!'

'What the hell's going on here?' a voice called out behind the soldiers, and an instant later a young sergeant thrust his way through the soldiers and stopped in surprise as he caught sight of Napoleon.

'Name?'

The sergeant snapped smartly to attention. 'Sergeant Junot, sir! Senior staff clerk to the commander of the artillery.'

'Ah! Then you work for me.'

'Sir?'

Napoleon drew out his notice of appointment and handed it to Sergeant Junot. 'I am Captain Buona Parte, the new commander of artillery.'

Junot glanced over the document and handed it back as Napoleon gestured towards Macon. 'My first order to you is to enter it into the journal that this man is reduced to the rank of private and put on a charge for insubordination. Fine him a week's pay and give him a week on latrine duties. Got that?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Very good. Next, I want you to send someone to find my officers and have them report back here immediately. Once that's done you come back to me with a notebook. I'll be over there, inspecting the guns.'

'Yes, sir.' Junot saluted and turned towards the large tent in the centre of the camp. Napoleon turned back to the three soldiers. 'Find the rest of the men. I want everyone on parade at once. Go!'

Napoleon strode off towards the guns, trying hard not to smile. He was pleased with himself. The first impression these men would have of him was as a stern disciplinarian, and that was just what he wanted them to think. He needed quick results from his new command. Unless he could show his superiors that he was a man who got things done swiftly and effectively, then they would not hesitate to replace him when the Army of the Alps got round to sending someone to take over from the injured Captain Dommartin.

As he had observed from Carteaux's position, the guns, limbers and wagons had been left in a disorganised jumble and the draught animals were grazing amongst the equipment. A mule raised its head to glance at the young officer as he began to inspect the guns, then lowered its muzzle and continued to graze disinterestedly. As soon as Sergeant Junot returned, Napoleon began dictating detailed notes as they moved through the artillery park, scrutinising each gun carriage and caisson minutely. When they had completed the task Napoleon glanced over the notes.

'Twenty-six cannon, of various calibres. Four are unserviceable, awaiting repairs.' He glanced up. 'Why hasn't the field forge repaired them?'

'We don't have a field forge, sir.'

'What?' Napoleon shook his head. 'How the hell can an army artillery train function without a forge?'

'The general had promised Captain Dommartin he would see to it, sir.'

'Did he? How long ago?'

'A month, sir.'

Napoleon exhaled sharply through clenched teeth. 'A month… Right, then I'll have to see to that myself. Next thing, how many men are on the strength?'

Junot replied at once, 'Three hundred and thirteen men, including you, sir. Of those, two hundred and ninety-eight are fit for duty.'

Napoleon looked at the sergeant with approval. Here was a man who seemed to respond at once to a challenge. 'And what proportion of the men are like those three I came across by the fire? I assume they aren't regulars.'

'No, sir.They're volunteers. A third of the men are volunteers. The rest are regulars or naval gunners.'

'Any other good news for me, Sergeant?'

Junot smiled. 'Does that mean I shouldn't mention that we don't have enough draught animals to haul the guns, nor enough tools to maintain them, and there's hardly any powder and shot for the guns that we do have?'

Napoleon took off his hat and ran a hand through his dark, lank hair. 'I see. Right then, it seems that we're about to become very busy in the next few days.'

'Yes, sir.' Sergeant Junot nodded. 'It's about time.'

Napoleon punched him lightly on the shoulder. 'Good man! Now then, I think I'd better let the men know what's in store for them. Go and announce me.'

Sergeant Junot ran off and Napoleon waited a moment before he replaced his hat, clasped his hands behind his back and set off for the open ground in front of the tents.At his approach Sergeant Junot shouted, 'Commanding officer present!'

Napoleon's keen eyes noted that some of the men moved with a purpose to take up their positions, but far too many shambled into place with a diffidence that wounded his sense of professionalism.

'Move yourselves!' Junot bellowed at them.

Napoleon walked down the front rank, scrutinising his new command, especially the four lieutenants that stood in front of their divisions. One, an aged man in a faded uniform, was clearly drunk and had great trouble standing to attention. Napoleon made his way back down the line, and stopped abruptly in front of the drunk man.

'Name?'

'My name?' The lieutenant slurred. 'My name is Lieutenant Charles de Foncette, Captain, sir.'

'You are drunk, are you not?'

The man grinned. 'Yes, my captain.'

Napoleon quickly stepped up to him and thrust hard against the man's chest. Lieutenant de Foncette flew backwards and sprawled on his back, the impact driving the air from his lungs in an explosive gasp. Immediately he threw up, over his face and down his front.

Napoleon pointed to the nearest men. 'You and you, throw this fat bastard out of my camp.Take him up to headquarters and leave him there. He can send someone for his possessions when he sobers up.' Naploeon waved his hand impatiently. 'Well? What are you waiting for?'

As two men reluctantly helped the foul-smelling officer to his feet and half dragged him away, Napoleon turned to face the others. Inside his chest, his heart beat wildly.This was the moment of truth. His future depended on what he did in the very next moments. If he spoke well then these men would accept him as their leader. If he failed to appeal to that spirit in soldiers that made them achieve great things in the face of almost any adversity, then this opportunity to spur his career forward would be lost. Napoleon drew a deep breath and began.

'Soldiers! Before you lies the enemy. The traitors of Toulon, who have betrayed their birthright, and sold it to the enemies of France. Our foe has the advantage of numbers, formidable defences and the fire support of the most powerful navy in the world. To an outsider our situation might seem to be a cause for despair. What can this army achieve against such an apparently impregnable fortress?' He paused long enough for the rhetorical effect of his words to sink into their hearts, and then pressed home. 'This army can achieve nothing, so long as it continues in such a slovenly, unsoldierly and desperate state as I discovered in this camp. My God! Even the camp followers have made more effort than you. And if the enemy ever launches an attack on the army that surrounds Toulon, I'd put good money on the camp followers being a tougher proposition for the enemy than you! Gentlemen, simply put, at the moment you are an utter disgrace to the uniform that you wear. Unless things change, we will lose this fight, and it might well be the turning point of the revolution. All the years of suffering the people of France have endured to rid themselves of the oppression of the aristos will have been for nothing. In the age to come, when you are old men, people will point to you and whisper that you failed in your duty when all of France needed you most… They will say you failed,' he repeated with deliberate emphasis, and then turned his back on them and stared at the distant defences of Toulon for a while, as his men digested his accusation. Then Napoleon turned round and spoke again, in a gentler tone.

'That is one future. One that we must not allow to happen. Toulon can be taken. I've been here long enough to see that Toulon cannot be carried by a frontal assault. Our infantry would be cut to pieces before they managed to take any of those fortifications. Only one thing can bring Toulon to its knees.' He smiled. 'Artillery. That's us, gentlemen. Just us. We must bring every gun we can find to bear on Toulon. We must surround the enemy with a screen of batteries that will tear into his defences like teeth. We will build our batteries right under his nose and when they are complete we will blow the enemy into the sea. I don't have to tell you that it'll be a dangerous business, and we're going to need every shred of courage, strength and endurance that we can find within ourselves. That goes for the officers and sergeants as well as the men.There'll be no rest for any of us. From now on we'll live by the guns, and we'll not rest until that Bourbon standard flying over Toulon is torn down and replaced by the flag of France!'

Napoleon ripped off his hat and held it aloft, and for an instant there was no response from the men.Then Sergeant Junot stepped forward and raised his hat with a cheer, and suddenly the air was filled with the shouts of the men, and the cry of patriotic slogans. Napoleon joined them, cheering for all he was worth. Then he edged over to Junot and caught his eye.

'I want the officers and sergeants in my headquarters as soon as the parade is dismissed. Tell the rest of the NCOs to have the men take down their tents and put them up properly.Then they're to get the artillery park in order. No food, or breaks until it's done, and done properly. Understand?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good.' Napoleon nodded. 'Carry on, Junot.'

He made his way past the men and headed over to the headquarters tent. Inside, a pair of campaign desks, piled high with paperwork, stood at the back. A large flask of red wine and some pewter cups rested on the end of one table and Napoleon crossed to them, and poured himself a drink. It seemed to have gone well enough. He had given the men some sense of direction, an awareness of the significance of their role in the siege, and therefore some sense of their responsibility.That might be enough to drive them on. The trick of it was to keep them focused and that meant giving them some kind of victory as soon as possible. Something to vindicate the hard work he would make them do. His mind raced for a moment, then he quickly made his way to the tent flaps and stared down the slope towards Toulon. A number of the enemy warships lay at anchor in the west arm of the inner harbour, below the hill of Bregaillon.

Napoleon smiled to himself.Very well.That's where he would begin.