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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.
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In 1812 Illarion Mikhailovich Pryanishnikov (PD) |
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.
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The Retreat of Napoleon’s Army from Russia in 1812 Ary Scheffer (PD) |
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.
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An Episode from the Russian Campaign Nicolas-Toussaint Charlet (Source) |
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.