Rifles - Mark Urban [46]
Marcel, a tough little man, had every confidence that his voltigeurs could climb the Busaco ridge. They had fought the British at the Coa and they’d beaten them, just like the Emperor had beaten all the others. The young officer believed that ‘happiness, ardour, and love of glory showed on the face of each soldier: the youngest had three years of service; what couldn’t one do with such men?’
As the attack columns moved up past Masséna, the marshal knew it was vital that they keep going until they had crowned the heights. If his men stopped so they might return fire at the British, then all momentum would be lost and the attack would fail. The need to move forward even overrode the fact that marching slowly up the steep slope while staying in deep columns would make them horribly vulnerable to British fire. As the 69ème filed past him, Masséna called out to the troops: ‘No cartridges, go in with the bayonet!’
Plumes of dust were kicked up by the French columns as they wheeled towards the foot of the ridge. The 95th were able to watch the whole spectacle, for they were on the mountain’s forward slope, having taken up positions to shoot at the French with every plodding step they took up the forbidding incline. The usual arrangements for combining battalions within the Light Division had been changed this day, with Beckwith commanding a great force of skirmishers, including his own 95th, the 1st Cacadores of the Portuguese army, light infantrymen, many of whom had also been given the excellent Baker rifle, and some similarly armed King’s German Legion men – in all over 1,200 sharpshooters. Beckwith had placed his British riflemen on the left of his line and the rest to the right. Watching the French approaching, the riflemen chose positions among the boulders and firs that littered the steep incline. Few men were held in reserve as supports, since there was no prospect of cavalry being used against them. Further along the ridge, towards the Mondego, there were many more Allied skirmishers from Portuguese battalions or the light companies of British ones waiting too. By 5.45 a.m., the leading French scouts were exchanging shots with the British forward posts.
Wellington’s position was a very long one, but he had made sure that there were sufficient forces to hold the col at Sula, where he felt sure the French would hit him. The night before he had gone about the ridge, deploying each battalion. The 43rd and 52nd Light Infantry were waiting in Sula, out of view of the French, supported by a couple of guns from the Royal Horse Artillery. To their left and right there were brigades of Portuguese infantry, stiffened with British officers and retrained by them.
As the minutes ticked by that morning, it became apparent that Reynier’s attack was going in first, just as Masséna had ordered. These troops clambered up the slope – for in places it is so steep that a heavily laden man will have to help himself with his hands – towards the centre of the line, held by General Picton’s 3rd Division.
Beckwith’s troops could not see the fighting going on in Picton’s sector, but they could certainly hear it. Masséna, on the other hand, had positioned himself near a windmill at Moura and could make out the head of Reynier’s corps mounting the ridge. The battle was going to plan; it was time to hurl Ney forward.
Loison’s division of Ney’s corps marched directly up the Sula road. Another division, under General Maucune, followed somewhat behind and veered off to the left, where a Portuguese brigade under the British general Pack awaited them. As soon as the heads of Loison’s columns were in range, the Rifles and Portuguese began taking shots at them. They had already seen enough of the French Army in action to know the