Disaster at Quatre Bras

Die Braunschweiger bei Quatre Bras 1815¹
Richard Knötel (PD)

Maréchal Davout snapped his glass shut and gave a grunt of satisfaction. Though the casualties were higher than he expected, Prince Jérôme's division had driven the Anglo-Allied skirmishers from the Bossu Wood. In doing so the Prince had suffered a wound which the doctors told him could be mortal. He did not look forward to reporting that to the Emperor.

Gemioncourt Farm was in flames, the Dutch and Belgian dead were piled high in the pyres of that place, the bastards had fought hard for the farm and had inflicted serious casualties on Général de Division Comte Maximilien Sebastien Foy's division. The general himself had fallen at the head of the column which had driven enemy units out of the few buildings at the crossroads itself, but it was now in French hands.

The fighting had sputtered out after dark on Thursday night, Jérôme's men had pressed the fight long after dark, eventually driving the enemy from the wood.

Some British units had managed to reach the area north of the crossroads in the evening twilight. They had marched blithely in column nearly to the crossroads, they had managed to form a rough square just as Jacquinot's lancers hit them. Davout shook his head at the bravery of the Scotsmen, who had been cut to pieces and had fallen nearly to a man. There were very few prisoners.

Now it was simply a matter of getting the men back in their ranks and then finding out how the Emperor had faired over by Ligny. There had been a heavy cannonade in that direction late yesterday and again this morning, now all was silent. Davout wondered if d'Erlon's corps had had any impact on that fight.

Black Watch at the Battle of Quatre-Bras, 1815
William Barnes Wollen (PD)

"Jock, are ye still breathin' laddie?" The voice came out of the night as a hiss, just barely audible.

Sir John Campbell, commanding the 1st Battalion of the 92nd Regiment of Foot, the Gordon Highlanders, braced himself, he was afraid that his right leg was shattered, injured when his horse fell on him.

"Is that you, Bobbie?" The voice sounded like that of Sir Robert Macara, commanding the 1st Battalion of the 42nd Regiment of Foot, the Black Watch.

"Aye, lad, I'm still among the living, though many of my fine lads will sleep beneath Belgian sod this day. We're fearfully cut up."

The two men fell in together somewhere along the main road to Brussels, the French pursuit had stopped with the onset of full darkness. A burning wagon not far off the chaussée lit the scene. Behind Macara a stumbling line of injured Scots, English, and Germans straggled up the road. The shock of sudden combat written on their powder stained faces.

Campbell was sitting in a farm cart, drawn by three of his Gordons. Macara looked down at Campbell's leg.

"I'm told there's a surgeon set up just a bit from here, up in Genappe. German lad, but I'm told he's good. You should let him look at that leg."

"And have him lop it off while the Frenchies are storming up the road outside? I think I'll take my chances on the road, Bobbie."

"It's your life, Jock, I'd hate to see ye throw it away."

One of the Highlanders pulling the cart shushed the two officers, "Beggin' yer pardon, Sir, but we should be moving. It'll be light in a few hours, and Bonaparte is smelling the kill, he is, those bastards will be up early I'd wager."

Macara nodded grimly, "They say Davout is in command over there, man is a bulldog, once he's got his teeth in you, he ain't lettin' go."

"I thought Davout was in Paris?" Campbell asked, somewhat in shock at this news.

"Well, he ain't, he's just down that road."

The Duchess of Richmond's Ball
Robert Alexander Hillingford (PD)

The Duke of Wellington stared down at the map on the table, the Duchess of Richmond's ball was already in progress and had been interrupted by a series of dusty, sweat-stained messengers throughout the evening.

"Bonaparte has humbugged me, by God; he has gained twenty-four hours' march on me. Not only that he has moved far faster and far more decisively than I would have given him credit for."

"Your Grace?"

The Duke looked up, standing before him was a Dutch colonel, one of Perponcher's staff no doubt, "Yes, Colonel? Your report?"

"Davout is in command, coming up the road, he ..."

The Duke leaned in and quietly admonished the man, "Get a grip on yourself, Sir. People are watching."

The Dutch officer took a deep breath then spoke, "It has been confirmed that Marshal Davout is in command of Bonaparte's left wing. They started attacking us late on the 15th and hit us again before sunrise. Gemioncourt was set in flames by howitzer fire, the Bossu Wood was swarming with French voltigeurs,² we were driven out with no chance to rally. Bonaparte's heavy cavalry caught General Picton's division coming down the road, in column, just as the sun was coming up. They were cut to pieces. I fear that General Perponcher is missing, presumed dead. Bylandt has assumed command. He has ordered the Duke of Brunswick to hold at Genappe. Everyone else is to fall back on ..."

The man studied the map, then pointed, "Here, to Mont St Jean, this ridge just south of the village. I believe you're familiar with it?"

The Duke nodded, then turned at a commotion in the street, "What is that bloody noise?" he snapped.

His aide, Colonel Sir William Howe De Lancey, was looking out, he turned and said, "A unit of German cavalry³ Your Grace, they are withdrawing in haste, they seem to be shouting that the French are right behind them."

"Right then, all officers to return to your units, immediately. Assemble at Mont St Jean, my headquarters shall be at the inn in Waterloo. Make haste or we are doomed."

As the officers bustled out, the Duke asked the Dutch colonel a final question, "What of the Prussians? What of Field Marshal Blücher?"

The colonel shook his head, "Defeated, Your Grace. Last reports had them fleeing for Liege."

The Duke closed his eyes for a moment, "Damn it. Damn it to bloody hell!"

¹ "The Brunswickers at Quatre Bras" - Brunswick (Braunschweig auf Deutsch) is a town in central Germany. Back in the day it was known as the Principality of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel. It was ruled by a duke, one of whom fell in battle against the French in 1806. His son, the duke commanding troops in the Waterloo campaign also fell in battle against the French, in 1815.

² French light infantry.

³ The Duke of Cumberland's Hussars, a Hanoverian volunteer cavalry regiment, they did indeed flee in disgrace at Waterloo without having faced the enemy.