La Haye Sainte, Late Afternoon and Evening

The Attack on La Haye Sainte
William Barnes Wollen
Source

Christian had lost count of how many times the French cavalry had advanced up the hill. Whoever was controlling the fight on the other side of the valley seemed to have lost his mind. Doing the same thing over and over again, with the same result. Lots of dead cavalrymen and horses, the occasional dead, or wounded, infantryman. But when the cavalry fell back ...

"Sir! We can't take more of this!"

"Stand to, Lieutenant. We must take more, we will take more."

Christian had tried to sound confident, but yet another cannon shot tore through the square killing and maiming everyone in its way. Everywhere he looked were wounded men, dead men, and they were his men.

"Battalion will lie down!" he bellowed.

The men did as ordered, but as soon as they did so, a squadron of lancers dashed at them out of the smoke.

Source

Christian screamed in rage and horror, "UP LADS! UP!"

But it was too late, the horsemen were among them, those with lances (fortunately only the first rank) were killing and wounding men left and right. The horsemen used the lance with ease, manipulating the nine foot long weapon as easily as a saber.

Christian stood defiantly, about a dozen men stood with him, in the confusion they almost went unnoticed. Then Christian saw half a dozen of the green-clad Frenchmen coming towards them. All Christian could think to do was yell out ...

"FIRE AT WILL!"

The muskets fired, enveloping them in smoke, but it remained clear enough for Christian to see at least three horses go down, then another crash of musketry rang out, to the cavalry's flank.

With that, the French turned and fled down the hill, leaving more than two dozen Legionnaires dead or wounded, but leaving a number of their own on the ground as well. Christian watched in horror as one man bayoneted a cavalryman on the ground who was pleading for his life.

All of the French survivors were dispatched without a qualm.

"STAND TO LADS, FORM LINE!"

Christian realized that there were so few of them left that they wouldn't form much of a square at all, at least in line they weren't so enticing to artillery. He also had a feeling that the French cavalry were done for, the remnants of multiple units lay heaped on the field. Dead horses and men so thick you could walk upon them from his position to La Haye Sainte.

Kurt von Weiding could barely stand the pain anymore. The minor wound had turned his leg into a swollen, black and red mess. A local veterinarian had come to look at his leg, the man had shaken his head.

"Perhaps yesterday we could have saved the leg, perhaps this morning we could have amputated the leg and you might have survived. I'm afraid mon ami, that the infection has spread into your groin. There is nothing even a qualified surgeon can do for you now."

"There is nothing you can do, Monsieur?"

The man shook his head, "Rien, how do you say, nothing. If you were a horse ..."

"Yes, yes, you would shoot me. Might I get some paper and a pen?"

"Certainly Monsieur, if you address the letter, I presume it is a letter, I can make sure it goes into the post."

That had been two hours ago. Now Kurt sat and looked at what he had written. First of all, he told his son to look to his mother, though she and Kurt and separated when Karl was quite young, the woman still loved her son. Kurt knew that Elsbeth loved the boy as well, as if he were her own, but still, blood was blood.

To Elsbeth he said, "... do not mourn me for long, you are still young, find another. And have a heart for Karl, I know you care for the lad, but he will need his mother. With your support he will prosper, I'm sure. Know that I loved you with all my heart. I know that there is another man often in your thoughts these days, I do not mind. If it's who I think it is, let us just say that I count him as a friend, I know he would not betray me, nor would you. But he is a good companion and a good man. If your inclinations lie that way, then do it. Be happy, it's all I ask."

He thought about writing to his friend Christian but did not. Christian would never leave his wife, no matter how he might feel about another. He suspected him and Elsbeth of nothing more than friendship, unusual in these days, but clear to all who saw them together. To mention Elsbeth to Christian would be in poor taste and Christian might take offence. Better to just let nature have its way. However, that might turn out.

The veterinarian came by once more, shortly after sunset.

"There has been a great battle to the north."

"I have heard the guns all day." Kurt managed to say, his strength was fading fast.

"They say that the French Emperor will sleep in Brussels this very night."

"No doubt as a prisoner of the Duke of Wellington." Kurt said, his voice getting softer by the moment.

The veterinarian smiled at his human patient, "Rest now, mon ami, save your strength. I shall come by in the morning."

"Kaltenweide!"

Christian looked up to see his brigade commander, the Baron von Ompteda.

"Take what's left of your men and reinforce Baring. I fear he is on his last legs. Do you have rifle ammunition?"

"No Sir, it is gone. My riflemen have re-equipped themselves with muskets. Even they are low on ammunition."

Ompteda sighed and looked across the valley. "I fear that scoundrel isn't done yet. If it commits his Guard we shall be hard-pressed."

"Any word of the Prussians?" Christian asked.

"No, though the scouts say they are not far off. We need them and soon, or Boney will dictate the peace from Brussels."

"Ah, but we shall be dead by then, nicht wahr?¹"

Ompteda nodded, "Now get your men into the farm, hear those drums? The bastards are coming on again!"

As Ompteda galloped off, Christian and his surviving officers and men led the men over to La Haye Sainte. They made it through the opening to the barn just in time.

"Spread the men throughout, fight with the men of the 2nd and whoever else is here. We stand or fall on this ground, this very day. Now go!"

The sun was setting, ammunition was running low and the house and barn were both on fire. Christian thought it a scene from Dante's Inferno. His sword was broken off near the tip, what was left of the blade was encrusted with blood. His left cheek was laid open where a French bayonet had pricked him while helping to hold the opening to the barn. The French corpses were piled three deep there. Though in truth, there were a number of dead Germans with them.

"Sir! They're breaking through the main gate, by the road, we have no ball, no ammunition!"

"Then we'll meet them with cold steel!"

Christian saw a rifle upon the cobbled courtyard, the sword bayonet still affixed. He threw his sword away and picked it up.

"Come on, Sergeant! Let's kill some Frenchmen!"

Source

The French managed to collapse the gate onto the men trying to hold it closed. Christian looked over, he saw his Shakespeare quoting Sergeant collapse as a big French pioneer split the man's head with his axe.

Sobbing with exhaustion, Christian tried to get to the man, but was shoved backwards in the frenzied melee by the gate. The last he saw of the Sergeant was him on his back, being bayoneted multiple times by angered French infantry.

Christian got to his feet, then went back down, it felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. When he sat down hard, he reached for his midriff, his hand came away bloody.

He felt someone lifting him from behind, "Let's go, Sir. Baring has ordered a retreat to the ridge. Can you walk?"

He took a step, it hurt but he could walk, he assumed that he had a flesh wound, no more.

He and the captain, it was Knorr, how the man had survived thus far was something of a miracle, staggered into the farmhouse. He could hear the screams of the men behind him. One man, a corporal rushed back to the courtyard, screaming ...

"They're bayoneting the wounded!"

Knorr called after him, "No! Corporal, this way, we have orders."

Christian shook his head, "Let's go, he won't be back."

Fortunately night was close, when he and Knorr, and perhaps fifty men of his own battalion, reached the ridge, he was distraught to learn that Baron Ompteda had been killed leading one of the Line battalions down to lend support to La Haye Sainte. French cuirassiers had come out of the smoke and cut the battalion to red ruin. Ompteda had been shot in the throat while trying to rally the battalion. He had died instantly.

They could hear firing to the east, a passing officer had informed them, "The Prussians! The Prussians are here and are driving the French before them!"

Off in the gathering gloom, they heard shouts, and drums. Another passing officer yelled out that the French Guard were attacking the ridge.

Christian was beginning to think he might be alive to celebrate the victory.

Then he was hit again, this time in the chest. A far more serious wound.

"I don't care what you say, Thomas. I'm going and you cannot stop me. Come with me, or be quiet. My husband may be dead or dying, my friend, your friend, may be as well. Are you content to just sit there and hope?"

Thomas realized that she was going to have her way, no matter what he did. "Very well, ma'am. But at least assume some form of disguise. Perhaps dress as a peasant man, no one will think twice about that. But a beautiful woman on the road? There are desperate men out there, they would think nothing of taking you against your will."

"Very well, but let us be quick."

"As you say, ma'am."

As they left Waterloo, the streams of wounded on the road were thicker, they also noticed quite a few French prisoners of war. Thomas saw a man he knew.

"How goes the war, Alfred?"

"The Duke has done for old Boney, his army is running back to Paris even as we speak. The Guard came up and our lads kicked them in the teeth. First time Boney's Guard has ever run away. 'Twas a sight to see. Now, I need to get these tame Froggies up to Brussels. Fare thee well, Thomas."

"And you, Alfred."

Bonaparte is defeated?" Elsbeth asked, her voice betraying her surprise.

"Seems so, Madam, seems so."




¹ Isn't that right?