November 1812: Krasnoi

The Battle of Krasny on 17 November 1812
Peter von Hess (PD)

"Sire."

"I see them, Rapp."

The Russian Army under Kutuzov had parallelled the march of the portion of the French Army directly under Napoléon's command. Composed of mainly units of the Imperial Guard, the Emperor was determined to reach the Dnipro River, still nearly twelve leagues further on from his position near the town of Krasnoi, which itself lay some eight leagues to the west of Smolensk.

Eventually, the Emperor knew that the army wouldn't really see any relief from Russian pursuit until they reached the Berezina, another twenty-four leagues past the Dnipro, Napoléon himself was starting to think that it would be a miracle if he could make it that far with an army sill capable of fighting. As it was, they were down to roughly 40,000 effectives after leaving Moscow with almost a hundred thousand men.

He moved through his Guard without acknowledging them, they had shamed themselves in Smolensk. Shamed themselves and the Emperor personally when they had looted the supplies meant for the entire army.

When he had ridden into their midst, some thought to raise a cheer, one glance from the Emperor and that cheer died in their throats.

One man turned to his comrade of ten years as the Emperor rode past, "Le Tondu¹ is ashamed of us."

The other man nodded and said, "We have dishonored ourselves and those who have gone before, looting like undisciplined banditti.² It is no wonder he won't look at us."

Lieutenant Marais marched with the remnants of his regiment. From what he understood, the main army was strung out over nearly the entire road back to Smolensk, the army having left that place over the space of four days, in four separate groups, his group was somewhat lucky. Being with Davout's corps, they had left Smolensk last, they were still in the relative shelter of the ruined city when a blizzard had struck the army on the 14th, further reducing the army's numbers.

Ney's corps was still unaccounted for, they had not yet reached Smolensk when Davout departed. Some feared that le Rougeaud³ was lost, Marais didn't think so, he didn't believe that Michel Ney could be killed or defeated. And he expressed that view aloud.

"Perhaps you are in the wrong Corps, Pierre?" Lecerf had chided him.

"Do you think that we've heard the last of le Rougeaud?" Marais had snapped back at his commander.

Lecerf raised an eyebrow, "Easy lad, I'm just saying that this weather respects no one, not even one as fanatically brave as Ney."

"Sorry, Sir. It's just that morale is bad enough ..."

A man on a mule, rode up to the head of the 57th's column, "The Viceroy has been defeated and the Emperor has ordered the corps to force their way forward to Krasnoi, the Russians block the road there!"

Before Lecerf could give the order, several unseen batteries of Russian artillery opened fire on the column. Lecerf could do nothing as the 57th, along with everyone else on the road, broke and ran.

Further ahead, the Guard halted as they could see the Russians ahead, blocking a defile that funneled movement through the area to a single track. A number of men turned as they heard the cannonade to their rear.

One grizzled old sergeant's face flushed with shame as he beheld his comrades stop and look over their shoulders. He shouldered his musket and roared out ...

"France is that way, over the bodies of those Russians! Come on you bastards, you cowards, shall we fail the Emperor again?"

At first one of the senior officers thought to stop the man, then realized that he was right, "En avant! Vive l'Empereur!"

The cry rippled down the column and the Guard advanced.

"Excellency, we must attack. The men holding the road are fleeing before that rascal's Guard!"

General Kutuzov, old and sick, shifted in his saddle. "No, the Czar wants them out of Russia and he also wants an army he can lead to the west and seize Paris. If we attack Napoléon here, it will be like attacking a cornered wolf. The wolf will certainly die, but what of the attackers?"

"No gentlemen, let the winter kill them. Look to your units. We will continue to parallel the French march as we escort these uninvited guests from Mother Russia.

"Has anyone seen Chef de Bataillon Lecerf?"

Maréchal Davout had asked the question, no one seemed to have an answer. I Corps was down to approximately 4,000 men at this point. After being driven off by Russian artillery the survivors had rallied on Davout and his staff, none of whom were still mounted.

"Lecerf!" Marais bellowed into the wind, there was no answer.

"It's your battalion now, André." Marais said to his friend Leavitt.

"But Hervé left you in charge ..."

"Yes, which is why I'm giving you your command back, you have earned it since we left Moscow."

"You there!" Marais heard the voice and recognized it to be that of Maréchal Davout.

Leavitt realized that Davout was speaking to him.

"Sir?" Leavitt answered.

"It seems the 57th has no more than 300 men remaining, yet you still bear your Eagle. I can find no officers other than you two. The brigade⁴ is now yours, and you," Davout addressed Marais, "you have the battalion, what is left of it."

Davout then strode off into the blowing snow.

"Well, you can keep the battalion, Pierre. Seems I'm a Général de Brigade now."

Marais grimaced, "Two understrength companies, no more. That's your brigade, André. Let's get moving before the Cossacks show up."

And the Grande Armée continued to limp westwards, leaving a trail of dead and dying men and horses stretching all the way back to Moscow.

¹ The senior units in the Imperial Guard still wore their hair long and in queues. "Le Tondu" is French for roughly "the shorn one," as the Emperor kept his hair short.

² Bandit (Italian). Some of the Guard had served in Italy and like soldiers everywhere,  would mix in words they had learned elsewhere.

³ The Red-Headed One, the army's nickname for Maréchal Ney.

⁴ The 57th Ligne had five battalions at the start of the campaign, they constituted Testes' entire brigade. That was typical of the Grande Armée in the Russian campaign. Typically a brigade consisted of a pair of regiments, each having two to three battalions. Rather than create new regiments, Napoléon simply strengthened the existing regiments with more battalions.

What a WEEK!

 With all due respect to Mrs Sarge, there is one thing I absolutely hated about Korea.  Loved the flying, loved the people, felt like I was doing something important, but.....I didn't like the winter.  Winter weather would come in on a High Speed Direct Flight from Siberia with a pass over the Yellow Sea to pick up some extra ice cold humidity.  Nope, they didn't make a flight suit warm enough to keep you from losing feeling in your extremities while doing the preflight walkaround of the jet.  That was followed by the fact that the cockpit heater got its hot air from the engines, which aren't started until start time and even then were in idle.  

Yes, Beans, the exhaust temperature was quite warm, but, for whatever reason, didn't warm the cockpit until the afterburners were lit on takeoff.  Then it was nice and toasty.  But fighting in a fighter is hard work and hard work produces perspiration, which is wet.  So, on engine shutdown and opening the canopy...Well, it wasn't unusual to have ice on portions of your flight suit, sometimes even in very sensitive parts of your body.  The walk to the crew truck, ride to the squadron and walk into the squadron were "memorable" to say the least.  

No, I don't like cold weather.  

Fortunately, Texas is, well, more reasonable in its Cold Weather climate.

Sometimes....

Other times, well, we had a "special" week last week.

Forecast for last Tuesday was for the temperature at dawn to be 13F with a Wind Chill of -1F.  Now, having flown a lot and received a weather briefing from a weather person prior to that mission, I learned that they weren't always accurate.  Fortunately, most of them would hedge their briefing by quoting the "bad" side of the forecast.  Nobody ever bitched about the weather being better than forecast was their thought process.

Can't disagree with them.

Unfortunately, the actual temperature here of 7F and  Wind Chill of -5 isn't "better".  

But, living in the country, we've been through cold weather before.  Our biggest weak point in the living in the country is water.  Our water comes from a well.  No, Beans, the City doesn't provide it.  We're on our own. 

Having lived through a few cold snaps, we know that we need to turn the water on in the buildings that need it and let it run.  Supposedly, that keeps it from freezing in the pipes.  I had not done that once before and had that happen. Then one's plumber has to repair the pipes because they burst, since water expands when it freezes.  Expensive!

So, Monday night, we made sure to turn all the faucets on to a small drip.

Well.  another lesson learned, a small drip is not sufficient.  Woke up the next morning, to do my "bidness". Got 'er done, reached up and hit the lever to remove the evidence as my sainted Mother taught me to do long ago.  There was a flushing sound, followed by that Simon and Garfunkel song "The Sounds of Silence".

Inserted just for a little nostalgia for Sarge.  After all when this song came out in 1965, Sarge was 20 something.

JUST KIDDING! Back to the post.

Now the Old Wive's Rule in this situation is "If it's Brown, flush it down, if it's yellow, let it mellow." Which is a pretty good  Rule of Thumb, usually.  Unfortunately in this case, it wasn't the former, rather the latter.  So....

Well, my lack of SA (situational awareness) led to my being restricted to using our outside property for dispensing "yellow", if you get my gist.  OK, it was a very effective learning point.  Never knew that organ could get that cold.  

In any case, went throughout the house and looked at all the faucets that we'd turned on to drip.  Nada!  And stayed that way until Thursday.  Woke up that morning to the sound of running water in the toilets and faucets.  Thank You Lord!

Now while the water was out,  it wasn't pleasant, but we didn't screw this up by the numbers.  First, we had two 5 gallon jugs of water that we had in the closet (sealed when we bought them) and used them to water the horses.  We also had 3 or 4 one gallon jugs of water, for cooking and watering the dogs and cat as well as Mrs J and I.   

That got us through the first day, no problem.  The next day, in order to keep us from going insane from boredom, we went down to the old house to continue the prepping it to turn it into a BnB.  Happened to bump the kitchen sink faucet.

Low and behold, water comes running out.  A quick run to the house and picked up the water jugs and refilled them.  

Why did this happen?  Well, that house and our current guest houses are on a separate well, which, obviously hadn't frozen.  "I'd rather be lucky than good" has always been a mantra of mine.  That seems to have been the case this time. Especially, since my Brother lives in one of the cottages and we were expecting paying guests in the other that weekend.  No water would have been "Bad" in either case.

But, at least, we've got a source of potable water close by. So...We got that going for us! 

One of my favorite movies and favorite quotes.  Hard to believe it came out 45 years ago!

ANYHOW!...Back to the story.

The following afternoon as I start to prep for dinner at the current house and am reaching for a jug of water to start heating it to cook when I hear a splashing noise in the sink.  I turn around and, lo and behold, water is flowing.  Not only had the well unfrozen, but the pipes hadn't broken.

Thank You, Lord!

Oh...By the way... I'm writing this on Sunday,  out of curiousity I checked to see what the temp outside is:

 Gotta love, Texas!  If you don't like the weather, wait an hour (or a couple of days), it'll change!

Peace out, y'ALL!  Oh, and keep water on hand, you never know when you'll need it. Ask me how I know.

 Well ain’t that special! Had to put down a Dog this afternoon. He’d been having problems walking and this afternoon, he couldn’t stand up. Rest in peace, Bentley, put in a good word with the Big Guy about us, please!

 

Behind the Scenes

Przejście Wielkiej Armii przez Berezynę w 1812¹
Wojciech Kossak (PD)

Well, I was going to continue following the Grande Armée in retreat from Russia, but other events intervened.

I very rarely suffer from insomnia, but I do, on rare occasions. Friday night being one such occasion. Two of my old comrades from work and I were going out for breakfast Saturday morning. One of the people I hadn't seen since December, it was Friday night that I realized that there were some people at work that I missed. A lot. These two folks are at the top of that rather small list.

We were going to a new place, convenient to all those traveling, sort of a midpoint venue which had been said to be very good. So we went. It was good. I've never eaten that much breakfast. I was so full that I required no further sustenance that day.

Anyhoo, in my excitement at seeing old friends, my brain decided that a full night's sleep fell into the "optional" category. I got to bed well before midnight (unusual for me) but would sleep about 45 minutes then awaken to see if it was time yet. Of course, it wasn't. Finally at 0600, I judged the time to be close enough. The restaurant is perhaps 20 minutes from Chez Sarge. I got there a lot earlier than I needed to be.

Oh well, we had a great time and plans are afoot to do it again next month. We plan on doing this monthly. Good food, good friends - you simply can't beat that.

So, the story will continue, we're not done yet. Not until the Grande Armée is out of Russia will I "down tools" and find something else to write about. But today, I'm just too tired.

But I do have a video for you which covers Napoléon's retreat. My story is based loosely on the events depicted therein. It's part of a rather sizeable collection of videos over on YouTube. If interested, I invite you to go visit the channel and see for yourself.

Good stuff.

Bis Dienstag, meine Kameraden!²

¹ The passage of the Great Army across the Berezina in 1812. (Polish)

² Until Tuesday, comrade! (German)

PBY Rescue Mission

Consolidated PBY Catalina
Source

This is a special guest post which features a video presentation from a friend of mine, Robert Gale. Take it away, Mr. Gale! If you're in Colorado Springs, check out the National Museum of WWII Aviation (linked on the sidebar under "Tail Numbers, Museums, and Records."

I haven't been to Colorado since 1987, looks like a return trip is in order!

We'll get back to Russia tomorrow.

November 1812: La Honte de la Garde Impériale¹

Moscow 1812²
Dmitry Nikolayevich Kardovsky
Source

The 57th entered Smolensk on the morning of the 9th. They had spent the night bivouacked outside the ruins of the city sheltering in what was left of a stage post along the Moscow road. A mounted officer encountered them upon moving inside the city gate.

"Hervé?"

Chef de Bataillon Lecerf looked up and exclaimed, "My God, is that you Gaston? You look well, my brother!"

Chef de Bataillon Lecerf embraced the man who dismounted in front of the column. Turning to Marais he called out, "Pierre, come and meet my brother who, lacking the stamina to be an infantryman, joined the cavalry!"

"Capitaine Gaston Lecerf, 12th Dragoons, at your service." He grasped Marais' hand and nodded, a broad smile upon his face.

The man was wearing a forage cap, having lost his helmet somewhere along the way, and his greatcoat was that of a Russian noble, fur lined and acquired before leaving Moscow.  He was something of a sight, looking more like a brigand than a cavalryman. His horse though, looked well groomed and cared for.

After shaking Marais' hand, Captain Lecerf turned to his brother, "I'm afraid things here are going badly. The Old Guard marched in last night and promptly began to loot the food stores. They have despoiled much of what they didn't eat by thampling through it all. The Emperor is furious. Berthier wants to have the men responsible shot, but the Emperor is not willing to go that far."

Chef de Bataillon Lecerf spat into the snow, "So the Immortals, who haven't fought a damned bit in the entire campaign, decide to have first choice of the supplies and be damned to the rest of the army?"

Marais shook his head, the "Immortals" was a nickname given to the Imperial Guard as a whole, but specifically to the senior infantry regiments of the Guard. The Grenadiers à Pied and the Chasseurs à Pied gained the nickname as Napoléon usually kept them as his ultimate reserve, they typically advanced only once the victory was assured.

The cavalry and the younger regiments of the Guard often saw hard action, but the Old Guard seldom fired their muskets, some men said that those worthies hadn't seen action since Marengo.³ They were detested by much of the army. Many soldiers desired entry into the Guard, but as many said, that gave them a better chance of surviving the wars!

"Is there any hope of resupply here?" Marais asked.

The younger Lecerf shook his head.

His older brother's shoulders slumped and he said, "Then we march when the order is given. Marais, take a party of men and find something for the boys to eat. You never know ..."

Night Bivouac of the Grande Armée
Vasily Vasilyevich Vereshchagin (PD)

Berthier explained once more to the Emperor that there was no word of Kutuzov's army, his recommendation was to hold up in Smolensk for a week or more to let the army's stragglers come in and allow the men still with the colors to recuperate.

"Recuperate? How, how is that to be done? There is no food, my Guard has failed me, they destroyed the means by which I had hoped to resupply my army. Perhaps I should shoot some of those miscreants. But alas, they are as my children, I have spoiled them. We need to set out, I want to be back in friendly territory before mid-December."

"Then we must set out at once, Sire. Every delay makes the army that much weaker. We must strike for the Berezina and cross over. We have had no word on Russian forces but we have to assume that they will converge on this part of the army."

"Very well, we march, in stages. Let the men who need it most rest."

Berthier protested, "But Sire, we will then be even more strung out along the line of march."

"Issue the orders."

Leavitt sat with Marais, he had reported that the regiment was slowly fading away, the men were not deserting, they were dying. The young officer sat quietly, as if in deep thought.

"What are you thinking about, André? Perhaps a change in careers?"

Though the remark had been meant lightly, Leavitt turned and snapped, "What is the point of having an Imperial Guard? They get the best of everything. Their officers of the same rank as the line actually are to be treated as the rank above that of the line. A lieutenant is a captain, a captain a Chef de Bataillon. Even their Soldats are treated as corporals."

Marais nodded, "It is said that a mule in the Guard ranks as a horse in the line."

Leavitt stared at the older soldier for a moment, then he laughed. "I've heard that said. But really Pierre, why do we need them? The presence of those veterans would certainly help stiffen the ranks of some of the newer battalions."

Marais nodded again, then explained, "Back in the early days, generals would select picked men as bodyguards. There was no telling when some guttersnipe from Paris would show up and start 'advising' the generals on their duties. Many went to the guillotine if they displeased those députés en mission. So they had these picked men as protection. The Emperor had the same when he was First Consul."

Leavitt scoffed, "But does he need what is, in effect, an entire Corps d'Armée as protection?"

"Over time this accumulation of veterans, remember each member of the Guard is supposed to have three campaigns under his belt and have been decorated, served as a reserve force that could be thrown into action at the critical moment to snatch victory from the enemy's grasp."

"The Young Guard and the Guard cavalry have all proved useful in battle, but the Emperor refuses to commit the Old Guard. What on earth is he saving them for? They stood and watched at La Moscova when their commitment would have seen the destruction of Kutozov's army. The same army which stalks us now, waiting to pounce at the first false step!" Leavitt was visibly upset now.

"There is no guarantee of that, my young friend. The Guard could have advanced yes, perhaps they would have crushed the Russians. But you've seen how those bastards fight, the Guard may just as well have been cut to pieces. Then what does the Emperor rely on? And so far from Paris?" Marais thought that that would settle Leavitt, he was wrong.

"Us! He could rely on us! The regiments of the line, the light infantry, the cuirassiers, chasseurs à cheval, the hussars, and dragoons, he could rely on us, the soldiers of France!"

Marais sat, speechless, of course Leavitt was right, why hadn't he seen that for himself? Perhaps that's all acceptance into the Guard was, a reward for having survived multiple campaigns, a guarantee of survival to return to Paris. Service in the capital was guaranteed to the Guard, the line units were garrisoned throughout France, there was that reward as well.

Lecerf walked in, "Get your men ready, we leave at first light. We march to Krasnoi."

"Where on earth is that?" Leavitt demanded.

Lecerf looked at the young officer with some affection, "One step closer to the Berezina River, my boy. One step closer to home."

¹ The Shame of the Imperial Guard

² Though this painting shows the army looting Moscow, the looting in Smolensk may have destroyed Napoléon's last chance of victory in his Russian campaign.

³ A battle fought in 1800, well before Napoléon became Emperor. At that time they were known as the Consular Guard (Napoléon being First Consul at the time). It was also a much smaller organization.

November 1812: Smolensk

Napoleon's retreat from Moscow
Adolph Northen (PD)

Crossing the battlefield of La Moscova sent the Emperor into a deep depression. All of his plans had come to naught, deep within himself he realized that no matter the preparation, the planning, the ability of his generals, and the spirit of his troops, nothing could have prepared the Grande Armée for Russia.

It was simply too vast and too primitive. In western Europe he could supply his armies with a series of depots and, if needed, have them live off the land. In Russia this was not feasible. Most of the roads were primitive, the distances between cities were unbelievable and between those cities there wasn't much to speak of.

The weather had also played a factor. The summer had been hotter than had been expected. Murat's mismanagement of the cavalry had killed or weakened many horses. The artillery and the supply chain had fared not much better. By the time they had reached Moscow the army barely had enough horses to return to Poland, let alone continue on into Russia.

The tenaciousness of the Russians was hard to believe, Napoléon had heard one of his officers complaining that the damned Russian soldiery were so stubborn that it wasn't enough to kill them, one must push them over as well.

Napoléon also had to consider affairs in Paris, rumors were reaching the army concerning plots and subplots, there had even been a report that the Emperor had been killed! Napoléon increasingly began to consider returning to Paris and putting the government in order. The Empire couldn't be controlled from a distance of 700 leagues!

As they passed over the battlefield, the Emperor saw that many of the dead had been improperly buried. The crows and wolves were feasting. The bitterly cold wind, the lowering skies, all made Napoléon think that this must be what Hell was like.

In 1812
Illarion Mikhailovich Pryanishnikov (PD)

The 57th Ligne had entered Russia with five, full-strength combat battalions. They had numbered nearly 4,000 bayonets, averaging 800 men per battalion. By the battle of La Moscova, battalion strength hovered around 450 men. Now Marais realized that those five battalions could scarcely muster a thousand men, and of them barely 750 were actually fit for duty. And that stretched the definition of "fit" by a very great deal.

Marais marched at the head of the 57th's column with Chef de Bataillon Lecerf and the color party. Though the tricolor flag was long gone, the Eagle still perched atop its pole, carried proudly by the regiment. Maréchal Davout had passed the regiment on the march and remarked that he was heartened that the brave 57th, Le Terrible, still held together.

"How is Leavitt holding up?" Lecerf asked, looking back down the column.

"He is becoming a fine officer, Sir. None better, he has learned much on this campaign." Marais answered, spitting a gob of phlegm onto the side of the track. He was concerned by how much he had been coughing lately. Fortunately, there was no blood.

"Good." Lecerf continued to plod ahead. "One foot in front of the other," as he had remarked to the Maréchal. It was the only way back to France, so endure he would.

Leavitt was at the tail of the column along with Sergeant Kléber and a select party of men. It was their job to keep the column closed up and discourage the men from straggling. But the 57th was a veteran regiment, straggling wasn't really a problem. Unless one counted the men who simply fell over and died as the march continued in the brutal cold.

The Retreat of Napoleon’s Army from Russia in 1812
Ary Scheffer (PD)

In truth, the army seemed to be dissolving with each passing day. At night, there were those who simply collapsed at their bivouac after the day's exertions. Most of them would be dead by morning, frozen to the ground they had slept upon.

Some, early in the retreat, had slipped away, deserting the army, thinking to surrender to the Russian army. Those caught by the Cossacks were cut down, those worthies had no use for ragged prisoners. Those caught by the peasants were killed slowly. Those people remembered the summer before when the Grande Armée simply took what they wanted, and often destroyed what remained.

Desertions were few now, staying with the army was a possible death sentence, leaving the column was certain death. Men marched until they fell.

Many stragglers gathered at the rear of the march, throwing away their weapons and anything not needed for basic survival. A vast crowd followed the army, leaving a trail of dead. Not all were men, many women and children followed the army. Few made it out of Russia.

Sunny days were bad, the glare from the snow blinded many, who would then stumble from the column and wander off to be slaughtered by the Cossacks. Men learned to wrap a scarf or some other cloth around their faces, leaving only a small slit to look through.

Then the clouds would gather and the snow would fall, making the march much more difficult as the men and the few remaining horses struggled through the drifting snow.

Marais looked around himself, and despaired.

An Episode from the Russian Campaign
Nicolas-Toussaint Charlet
(Source)

"Sire."

The Emperor stirred, he had actually dozed off in the saddle, "What ... What is it, Rapp?"

"Smolensk, Sire. We've arrived."

Napoléon shook himself, then looked to the near distance, indeed, it was Smolensk. Perhaps they could winter here, it seemed that the only Russians nearby were scattered Cossack bands.

As he thought of the Cossacks, he thought of the vial of poison he now wore around his neck. He would not give the Czar the pleasure of being made a prisoner.

The Russians, where might they be? He now believed that the Russian army trailed the Grande Armée by a few days march. Little did he realize that Kutuzov and the main Russian force weren't that far away. Only the Emperor's reputation kept them at bay. Kutuzov hesitated to confront Napoléon directly. Let the elements kill the French and their allies was his thought.

But events would force his hand. As they would force Napoléon's hand.

There would be no rest in Smolensk.

October 1812: Les Cosaques

Napoleon and His Staff Surprised By Cossacks, 1812
Unknown Artist
(Source)

A commotion was heard not far from the track the Emperor and his party were following. Almost immediately one of Napoléon's bodyguards grabbed the reins of the Emperor's horse and moved the mount behind him and another soldier.

Maréchal Berthier saw what was happening, as did the commander of the duty squadron, fortunately this day it was a squadron of the Chasseurs à Cheval of the Imperial Guard. He bellowed out, "Sire! Cossacks!"

From a nearby small wood a sizeable party of Russian cossacks, having seen the staff officers but not necessarily the Emperor, were spurring hell for leather at the Emperor and his staff.

Général de Brigade Jean Rapp, son of a janitor in Colmar, led the Guard into the attack. Though still suffering from wounds received at La Moscova, Rapp didn't hesitate. Saber drawn he led the Guard into the attack.

The quick response of the Imperial Guard light cavalry had surprised the Russians, thinking them to be staff men they pressed their attack, only to be met fiercely by perhaps the finest cavalry in the Grande Armée.

A number of Cossack saddles were emptied and at least one Guardsman could be seen on the ground, unmoving. Even the Emperor had drawn his sword. He noticed that his hand was trembling.

"Berthier!"

"Sire?"

Quietly he whispered to his Chief of Staff, "I wonder if perhaps a vial of poison might be acquired for me, quietly mind you. My capture would be catastrophic."

"I shall see to it, Sire."

Retreat of the French Grand Army from Moscow, intercepted by Russian Cossack, 1812.
Edward Orme (PD)

Lieutenant Pierre Marais marched with the survivors from the 2nd Company of the 2nd Battalion of the 57th Ligne. Reinforced by the nearly destroyed 4th Battalion, the 2nd Company had been at nearly full strength marching into the fight at Maloyaroslavets.

They had lost heavily at that fight, being reduced to 75 effectives. Chastain and Leavitt were still with the Eagle, as was Soldat Plouffe, Sergeant Kléber was the sole surviving NCO. The fight had proven disastrous for the NCO ranks as they had been shot down trying to get the rank and file to stand, then to counterattack. Marais knew the names of most of the men, but some seemed new.

He had asked Chastain about that, "They are stragglers, Pierre. Good soldiers, they've left their parent companies as those units fall apart. The wish to return alive to France, they know their only chance is to stay with a unit still under discipline. That's us it would seem."

Marais nodded, on the horizon they could see the ever-present Cossacks. They would swoop in to cut down stragglers or to steal unprotected baggage. They were a constant threat.

"Damned vultures, the lot of them." Lieutenant Leavitt spat on the snow in their direction.

"If they get close, tell the men to shoot at their horses. Without them the Cossacks are no threat." Marais gestured at three Russians who were far too close for his liking.

Five men near the Eagle fired a volley, two Cossacks were unseated and one horse fell to thrash in the snow.

"Quickly!"

Marais and three others dashed out. One of the Cossacks lived long enough to feel a French bayonet plunge into his belly, the other was already dead, as was the horse.

They searched the dead men and slashed meat from the flanks of the dead horse, stuffing their bloody treasure into their haversacks. The Cossacks had been carrying pistols, their corpses were relieved of those plus the ammunition for them.

"Back, back, get back to the column!" Chastain screamed, drawing his sword.

The men waded back through the deepening snow, one turned to fire which sent another Cossack into eternity.

"Captain! Run!!" Leavitt screamed.

Marais turned in time to see Chastain slash at one of the Cossack ponies, opening its throat. But another Cossack had lowered his lance and ran it through Chastain's body.

More of the 57th swarmed from the column, driving the Cossacks back. But it was too late for Chastain.

"Pierre, in my tunic, ah God that hurts ... There is a letter, for my wife, would you ..."

Chastain died without another word. Marais found the letter and something else ...

A map!

"You see here, André? That's where we fought on the Moscova!"

Leaning in to peer more closely at the map, Marais saw the name of a small village near the battlefield. "Hhmm, Borodino, guess that's what some will call the battle. People like naming battles after towns, not rivers I suppose."

Leavitt was now looking at the map, "This is a very good map of the terrain all the way back to the Nieman River. Perhaps we should give this to the general."

Marais snatched the map back, "I think not, my friend. The generals will see to themselves and the larger part of the army. We can use this to stay alive. Do you see this?" He asked, pointing to some symbols on the map.

Leavitt looked, then realized, "This shows the supply depots along the route!"

"Shh ... No sense letting everyone know. We take this to Lecerf, him I trust."

That night, Marais and Leavitt brought the map to Chef de Bataillon Lecerf.

"Where did you get this?" Lecerf asked as he studied the map.

"It was in Captain Chastain's coat pocket. After the Cossacks had cut him down, before he died, he asked that we deliver a letter to his wife. This map was with the letter."

"Did you promise to deliver it?"

"Of course, Sir. Chastain was a good man, though a foolish one."

"Foolish how?" Lecerf asked, a puzzled look on his face.

"He drew his sword to fight off the Cossacks, he should have run with us, the column was preparing to fire. His death was needless." Marais explained.

Lecerf nodded, "Did he hurt any of them?"

"He did kill one of their ponies." Leavitt said.

"Well, that's one less Cossack to harry us, I suppose."

Marais scoffed, "He'll have another horse by nightfall."

"Don't be too sure, have you noticed that the regular Russian army isn't to be seen?" Lecerf pointed out. "They're struggling in this weather as well. The Cossacks don't have unlimited mounts."

"I suppose we can hope." Marais said.

"And pray!" Leavitt added in an earnest tone.

Lecerf shook his head, "I think God has abandoned us in this frozen hell. You can pray, but he might not hear you. Perhaps the Almighty has washed his hands of us. Did you know that the Russians refer to the Emperor as the Antichrist?"

Marais looked confused, "The Anti-what?"

Leavitt spoke up, "The Antichrist will show up before the Second Coming, he is the son of Satan. He will try and destroy the world before Jesus can save us!"

Marais shook his head, "Look around André, we are destroying ourselves, what need do we have of an Antichrist?"

Leavitt looked about to speak when Lecerf held his hand up, "We can argue theology later, right now we need to build up our fires and post sentries, night will be upon us soon. And as you can see, it's not going to be a very pleasant night."

The men looked around, and sure enough, the snow was falling once more.