The Bridge

(Source)

"Patrol coming in!"

Wolfram Klepper turned his head at the shout and was rewarded with a growl from his sergeant, "Eyes to your front, Klepper!"

With nearly the same breath, Sergeant Hans Pizzeck ordered the men nearest the barricade to pull back a cart to make a path for what he could clearly see now were Prussian Uhlans.¹

"Come on lads, put your backs into it!"

The cart, laden with rocks, was pulled back, giving enough space for the small six man patrol to pass. One of the riders looked down at Pizzeck and yelled, "The bloody French aren't but three minutes march from here. Bastards surprised us!"

Pizzeck shook his head, "Now put the bloody cart back where you found it lads! Prime your firelocks boys, the French are coming and they want this bridge!"

Capitaine Joseph Martin was the first man around the bend in the road. He could hear the rush of the Sambre and now he could see that the bridge he was ordered to seize was barricaded.

"Sergent-major Juin! Skirmish order, keep the last rank back as a reserve!"

Juin nodded as he directed the men to break up into pairs, he held the specified men back and had them form a compact two-deep line. This captain might know his business after all.

As the men began to move forward from cover to cover, they opened a desultory fire upon the barricade. One man firing the other waiting until the first man had reloaded before firing himself. They didn't expect to hit anything, the point was to keep the Prussians' heads down.

"Juin, stay with the reserve!" Martin shouted as he made his way forward. When he had reached a position where he could keep an eye on things, he turned and saw that his drummer had managed to keep up.

"Pierre, keep beating the pas de charge until I say otherwise, the rest of the battalion will be up soon and I want those square heads over there to think we're more than just a company!"

"Sir!" Pierre Desjardin barked as he began to pound out the beat. He noted that the sound was somewhat muffled, no doubt the head was damp. The weather had been by turns rainy and sunny.

"Damn it!" Martin saw one of his men fall to the ground, his comrade began to drag him back into cover, pausing briefly to fire in the direction of the barricade. The bridge was obviously well defended.

"I think I got one of the bastards!" Klaus Schmidt shouted out, almost immediately he grunted and fell onto the roadway, his shako flying away as he fell.

Manfred Klepper glanced at Schmidt as he loaded his musket. Schmidt was done for, his face was a red ruin.

Easing up, he saw more Frenchmen rounding the bend in the road, there was at least a full battalion moving up now. As he discharged his musket in the direction of the French, he could hear gunshots from behind. As he ducked down to reload, he could see the men in the houses behind the bridge laying down a steady fire on the French.

There were now a number of Frenchmen sprawled on the approaches to the bridge. But more were coming on fast!

"Pierre, sound the recall!" Looking back he saw that Juin was already gathering the men falling back from the bridge, he and the other sergeants were getting the men formed up again. He couldn't tell for sure, but he knew he had seen at least four of his men go down. They were still on the roadway, unmoving.

Martin moved back slowly, his drummer keeping pace. As he looked back at the Prussian-held bridge again, he heard a horse coming up behind him.

"How many, Joseph?!"

It was Chef de batallion Maurice Godet.

"No more than a company, Sir! But they are well-protected!"

"Not for long, nice work, Capitaine!"

Martin was puzzled by that remark until he saw something coming through, an eight-pounder from the divisional artillery!

"Scheiße! The bastards have brought up a cannon!" The man who yelled that out broke away from the barricade and ran back towards the houses lining the river.

"Get back here you bastard!" Pizzeck screamed at the man. Then he felt a slap on his shoulder. It was one of the pioneers.

"Better follow your man Sergeant, we've lit the fuses!"

But before they could move, the French cannon fired.

Manfred Klepper's ears were ringing and he was having trouble focusing his eyes. Why was his head wet?

One of his mates grabbed him by his cross straps and yanked, hard.

"Come on Manfred! The barricade is broken and the French are coming on fast!"

Klepper managed to get to his feet, he realized that he'd lost his shako. Looking around for it he saw it rolling on the bridge. Next to the body of his brother, Wolfram.

"No!"

Slamming his shako on his head and slinging his musket, he tried to drag Wolfram back to safety. But as he looked closer, he could tell, Wolfram was dead.

"Fuses are all accounted for, Sir!"

Chef de batallion Godet nodded and thanked the man, turning to his battalion he gave the orders for the men to cross the bridge. The rest of the army could wait for his battalion, his men had paid the toll to cross the Sambre first, with their blood.

His face streaming tears, Manfred Klepper rejoined his unit in the upper story of a building not far from the bridge his brother had died defending.

The French were streaming across, the Prussians were getting ready to fall back towards their main line. Klepper looked out the window one more time.

He couldn't see his brother, there were too many enemy on the bridge, but there was one man who stood out, a French officer on a horse.

Klepper aimed in the officer's general direction and grunted with satisfaction as his musket kicked him hard when he fired.

When the smoke had cleared, and just before Sergeant Pizzeck had dragged him down the stairs to the back entrance, Klepper saw the horse, but no officer.

Godet gritted his teeth, the Prussian ball had torn an epaulette from one shoulder and had cut the skin underneath. When he had jerked back his horse had been startled and he had lost his seat.

His fall was broken by a dead Prussian soldier.

"Sir, are you all right?" Capitaine Martin was reaching down to assist Godet to his feet.

"It stings a bit, didn't do much more than break the skin I think. But it will take a bit longer for me to recover my dignity."

He grimaced as Martin handed him his hat. "Damn it, not an auspicious start. Unhorsed in a damned skirmish!"

Martin looked around as his battalion commander remounted his horse. He saw a number of dead and wounded men sprawled on the bridge and behind the barricade. They had lost a bit more than their dignity.

He looked up as Sergent-major Juin joined him, "We lost three men dead, Sir. Two wounded, neither too bad. The company is formed, looks like the battalion is on the move again. Shall we join them, mon Capitaine?"

"Mais certainement², my dear Juin. I'm sure our dear commander le Général Vandamme is already screaming at our division commander for being tardy. I'm sure IV Corps is already at Charleroi!"

¹ What the Prussians called their lance-equipped cavalry.

² Indeed.