Ligny, a Misspent Morning

Looking north towards Ligny
(Source)

It was early in the morning of the 16th of June, it was looking to be a fine day as the sun rose over southern Belgium. Soldat Manfred Klepper was looking out towards the south, he can see smoke from the French campfires. He can also hear the occasional musket shot as a lazy sentry cleared his weapon by the simple expedient of firing it in a "safe" direction. (Outside of Paris the previous year a man had been badly wounded by a sentry "clearing" his musket. Klepper always did it the approved way, by drawing the ball and charge as he had been taught. Slow but quiet and safe!)

"Hey, Manfred!" Klepper turned to see Werner Baumbach, another simple soldier like himself though of much greater experience.

"Hello, Werner. Looks like we have a fine day brewing." He nodded to the south, "As long as those fellows stay quiet."

Baumbach nodded as well, "The Froggies appear to be sleeping in today, I don't like it. Almost as if they're up to something."

"Do you think they'll attack?" Klepper asked.

"You can be sure of that, lad. They're probably waiting for the rest of their army to close up. Then they'll attack. Boney won't wait for us, he'll hit us when he's damned good and ready."

"De la Bédoyère, where is Lobau's corps?"

"Still crossing the Sambre, Sire. II and IV Corps are in place as is most of Maréchal Grouchy's cavalry reserve. The Guard is ready, though the Grenadiers are still coming in, the bulk of the Guard stands ready. The cavalry of Lefèbvre-Desnoëttes¹, minus your duty squadron is near Gilly. I have informed Maréchal Ney that they should be sent back to us when Kellerman's cavalry corps comes up."

"Very well, I will launch Vandamme at Saint-Amand, Gérard at the village of Ligny, Grouchy will mask the Prussian left, he is to demonstrate to pull Blücher's strength in that direction. When we are fully engaged, Ney should be in position to attack the Prussian right rear. Then we will have them. Have dispatches been sent to Ney?" The Emperor turned to Soult as he asked that.

"Yes, Sire. I sent three couriers shortly before dawn."

"Very well!" The Emperor clapped his hands together then said, "Now then, a bit of breakfast is perhaps in order!"

"The French don't appear to be there in strength, they certainly aren't in any hurry." Sir Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, snapped his telescope closed and handed it to an aide.

"We've heard nothing from Blücher all morning either, Your Grace." Lieutenant Colonel Sir Alexander Gordon pointed out as he noted the time on his pocket watch. Nearly ten of the clock.

"The French seem to be quiet for the moment, I've a mind to ride over to see the old Prussian in person. What say you, Gordon?"

"'Tis a fine morning, Your Grace. It might be a good idea to determine what the Field Marshal has in mind, should the French decide not to move today."

Turning to the duty captain, Wellington ordered the party to move to the southeast, along the road to Namur. He was nervous, it wasn't like the Bonaparte he was familiar with to waste time, yet it seemed that that was exactly what the French were doing. Turning to Gordon once more, Wellington spoke.

"Perhaps there's trouble in Paris? Not all of the French were happy to see Bonaparte return. Have we had any word on that subject, Gordon?"

"Not a whisper, Your Grace."

"Hhmm, most curious."

"With all due respect, Monsieur le Maréchal, we should move forward. The crossroads is lightly held at the moment." Chef d'escadron Louis Bosquet shifted in his saddle as he said this, Ney had been in an odd mood all morning.

Knowing that the morning dispatches from the Emperor had ordered the crossroads be seized, Bosquet couldn't fathom what le Rougeaud was hesitating for, they had more than sufficient numbers to take Quatre-Bras. And hold it.

"Not all of Reille's corps is on the field yet. We only have a single brigade from Kellerman's cavalry, and what's more, d'Erlon is still fumbling around trying to get his corps through Charleroi. You weren't in Spain, you have no idea of the way the English fight. There could be thousands of them concealed in every fold in the ground. They don't show their strength until you commit your own. I will not throw the campaign away for the sake of being in a hurry."

"But the Emperor ..."

"Is not here, Bosquet. We move when d'Erlon is up!"

"What the devil are they waiting for?" Decoster grumbled.

As luck would have it, their company was in skirmish order just forward of Gemioncourt. He would have preferred to be in the buildings, but having them just to the rear was comforting. They had a place to run to, if they needed to run. But so far the French seemed content to make and consume their breakfast.

Dupont sighed and looked at his old friend, "The waiting, it's hard you know? Gives a fellow too much time to think. Perhaps the war has been called off?"

"Not likely, not with Bonaparte still drawing breath. The delay could be a stratagem, lull us into letting our guard down and then striking." Decoster wasn't sure, for the moment he was content to bask in the sunshine. If the fighting never started, he wouldn't mind.

"Herr Generalfeldmarschall, a party of the English is approaching. A high ranking officer I believe, perhaps Wellington himself." The young captain of hussars had very good eyesight, the Field Marshal's aide, General August Neidhardt von Gneisenau did not.

He gestured for his telescope. Putting it to his eye he saw a party of men, most of them in red uniforms, but the senior looking man appeared to be in civilian attire. He didn't know what to make of that, then he saw their liaison officer with the English, Baron von Müffling.

Snapping the glass shut, he looked at Blücher and grunted, "It is Wellington."

Wellington thought the Prussians had a very good position, but for one thing. Most of their formations were standing in the open, certainly they had strong positions in the various villages, but the reserves were in plain sight of the French.

"I daresay my good man, if you stand out in the open like that, your men will be damnably mauled. The French are very good with their artillery. Why not tuck your reserves behind these small rises in the ground. You'll still have time to react when their infantry moves up."

After those words were translated Blücher sat up straight and with a confident look told the Duke, "Meine Jungs wollen ihren Feind gerne kommen. Wir verstecken uns nicht im Boden!²"

Wellington nodded after Müffling translated for him, "Well Sir, then you'll be damnably mauled."

Shaking his head, Wellington added, "Mind you, provided I am not attacked myself, I shall march to your assistance."

"Provided I am not attacked myself." Wellington snapped at Gneisenau as he spurred his horse and the party moved off.

Müffling apologized to a very red-faced Gneisenau, then followed Wellington back to Quatre-Bras.

Gneisenau began to speak, but Blücher lifted a hand to silence him, "I know how you feel, but trust me, Wellington will keep his word."

Gneisenau would not be silenced so easily, but as he started again, a sharp thump was heard from the French lines. Everyone turned to see that the French artillery had spoken.

The fight was on, regardless of whether they were ready or not.

"We will do our duty Gneisenau, this much I know!" With that, Blücher galloped down the line, exhorting his men to fight ...

"Heute kämpfen wir, meine Kinder!³"

Yes, today Blücher and his "children" would fight, and perhaps die.

As would many on both sides.

¹ Commanded the Light Cavalry Division of the Imperial Guard in 1815.

² My boys want to see their enemy coming. We will not hide in the ground!

³ Today we fight, my children!