Moves and Countermoves

Near Thuin, Wallonia, Belgium
(Source)

"Where in God's name is Gérard?"

The Emperor was furious as the day had not started well at all. The only corps which was on schedule was Reille's II Corps. Word had come in that they were across the Sambre and had destroyed an entire Prussian battalion near Thuin. But Vandamme's III Corps had gotten a late start when the single messenger carrying their orders had had a fall from his horse and had not delivered the message.

D'Erlon's I Corps was still mostly in France, Lobau's small VI Corps was in hand, as was the bulk of the Imperial Guard. But Napoléon knew that he had to concentrate, and quickly, before his enemies figured out what he was up to.

Napoléon had already torn a strip off of his chief of staff, Marshal Soult, for the incident with Vandamme's corps. He was looking about for someone to scream at when he saw a dispatch rider approaching. "Ah, perhaps this is news of Gérard!"

It was, but not good news.

One of his aides took the message and Napoléon noticed that the man went pale as a sheet as he read the message. "Well, what is it? Out with it man!"

"Sire, the commander of Gérard's lead division, Général Bourmont, has deserted to the Prussians. His division stopped dead in its tracks when Bourmont and his entire staff just left, without a word to anyone. The commander of his first brigade, Hulot, has taken command and is trying to sort things out, but ..."

"Yes, that should take some time." The men around the Emperor saw that he was struggling to control his temper.

"Soult, send a dispatch, TWO couriers this time, separate routes, to Vandamme, his corps is to press on to Charleroi and seize that town. Pass through Gérard's corps if and where necessary. Vandamme shall have priority! Soult, send the same to Gérard. I must have Charleroi!"

Soldaats Jean Decoster and Denis Dupont were on the move once more, to a small crossroads that both men were very familiar with, Quatre-Bras. They had grown up on nearby farms and both had enjoyed going to the crossroads as children and watching the traffic traveling through on the way north to Brussels and on the way south to Charleroi.

The road also connected Nivelles and Namur, the former place the men had expected to march to except for counterorders given by a Dutch general, now they were marching hard for Quatre-Bras. Word was already filtering in that the French were moving on the crossroads in great strength,

"I'd hold them at Gemioncourt, remember playing in the fields near there? The place is a fortress, we could hold it against any army!" Dupont always spoke in absolutes, he had since he had been a child.

Gemioncourt farm today, just south of Quatre-Bras
(Source)

Decoster knew better, well-supplied and supported infantry could make a good stand there, he knew that. But alone in the farm complex? The French would surround them and drive them out with their very good artillery.

Decoster did allow that the general in question, Hendrik George, Count de Perponcher Sedlnitsky, knew his business, he had learned from the best, having served with the British Army for a number of years.

Still, both men knew that Perponcher was taking a risk, disobeying the orders of the great Duke of Wellington.

But hell, this was the Netherlands and Perponcher was a Dutch general who knew his troops and his country. Stop the French at Quatre-Bras and who knows what good things might come about from such a feat?

"Monsieur le Marechal, we should push forward. My scouts tell me that the crossroads is vacant at the moment. Push forward with what we have on hand and we've satisfied the Emperor's first day objectives!" Général de Division Honoré Charles Michel Joseph Reille was elated at the progress his corps had made since crossing the Sambre that morning. He was in an aggressive move and knew that Napoléon would agree. But Michel Ney, the Bravest of the Brave, Marshal of France since 1804 was, for some reason, cautious.

"We don't know what lies beyond the crossroads, my dear Comte Reille. Wellington's entire army could be marching there, your corps is still not fully up. What do you have at the moment? Two divisions? Some cavalry, perhaps a brigade of that? It is too soon, we must hold here, consolidate our forces and then move."

Reille shook his head, he was about to speak, then decided against it. He too had fought the English in Spain, they were very good at hiding their strength. Perhaps Ney was right.

Though II Corps had made good time, the men were straggling all the way back to the Sambre. They might not be concentrated until the morning of the 16th. After all, the men were tired, as was he, a good night's sleep and a good meal, then they would hit les Anglais, and they would hit them hard.

But in the morning, not now.

"Sire, the Prussians appear to be making a stand on a line running from Wagnelée, to Saint-Amand, then to Ligny, just south of Sombreffe. It's a fair position along the Ligne brook, the ground slopes up to their position. However, their right flank, towards Quatre-Bras is in the air. If Ney obeys his orders ..."

Napoléon interrupted de la Bédoyère with some excitement, "Yes, yes, we have them. Ney will hold the English and their Dutch allies at the crossroads while we destroy Blücher and the Prussians!"

"Soult, send to Ney, to seize the crossroads immediately then push north with II Corps towards," glancing at the map the Emperor pointed, "Genappes, then have him send d'Erlon with his I Corps down the Namur road. While I assault the Prussians with my Guard, d'Erlon will fall upon Blücher's rear. We have them gentlemen, we have them!"

De la Bédoyère added in, "Some reports also indicate that a fourth of the Prussian army, the IV Corps of General von Bülow is not up yet. Blücher will be fighting at a disadvantage!"

"Confirm those reports, Soult! Tonight we position ourselves, on the morrow we shall fall on the Prussians like a pack of wolves!"

Manfred Klepper looked across the fields lying south of the small ridge his unit was bivouacked on. For once Sergeant Pizzeck had taken pity on him, he had no duties this evening other than to clean his musket and his kit.

His eyes were still red from crying over the death of his brother, Wolfram. They had marched hard after the defeat at the bridge, but the French seemed content to come on slowly. The Prussians had had ample time to form along a new line of battle.

His battalion occupied a small village, so they would be fighting from cover once again. He preferred that to standing out in the open exchanging musket volleys with the enemy. Clear fields of fire as far as he could see.

He didn't give a thought to the fact that the numerous French artillery would also have a clear field of fire on his position. Their guns outranged his musket by a lot. But he was young, and today had been his and his brother's first battle since the skirmishes around Paris in 1814.

Klepper caught his breath and felt the tears start again, it had also been his brother's last battle. How was he going to tell his mother? His brother's body had been left behind to the tender mercies of the French. No doubt his brother would be thrown into a pit and buried without benefit of clergy.

Manfred Klepper stopped and wiped his tears away. He would worry about all that later. Tomorrow he resolved to kill as many of the French as he could. His brother would be avenged.