Casca 30: Napoleon's Soldier by Roberts Tony

Author:Roberts, Tony [Roberts, Tony]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2014-05-03T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The next morning the Emperor and the main bulk of his army crossed the River Luzha, a long, straggling line of men, wagons and civilians. The best troops were at the front, marching under their colors, all armed and looking the part. But the further back it went the less they resembled an army and the more they looked like a mob. Some soldiers walked without a weapon, some didn’t even have what looked like a uniform.

Casca and his comrades sat on the steps of the houses watching them, silent. They were still tired and in mourning at their losses. The French had lost 5,000 to keep the escape route open, the Russians 6,000. Not a word was spoken; they were too exhausted to talk, and their sore and red-rimmed eyes only occasionally flickered at one or two sights that met their dull gaze on the bridge.

Some men drank from bottles the frightened townsfolk had given them, others smoked. Many sported wounds and splashes of blood on their faces or uniforms. Most didn’t care. They wanted to be away from this campaign and back home in a comfortable place. It had ceased to be an enjoyable experience, and the realization that they were hopelessly out on a limb with enemies closing in on all sides had finally made them want to be out of there yesterday.

They had buried Caporal Auvrey the evening after the battle, and held a small service for him. Paradis had made an appearance in the morning, still half dazed but at least able to gather where he was. General Delzons had been put on a wagon and would be taken back to France – if it was possible. Casca rested his weary limbs, still aching from the exertions of the battle, and tipped a bottle of country vodka to his lips. It tasted good, creating a fiery ball in his chest and stomach that spread throughout his system. Nothing like vodka to warm the weary soldier.

What happened now was anyone’s guess, but the remnants of the 84th would gather under Colonel Pegot and march off after midday. They had done their bit, and the Russians wouldn’t be far behind the main retreating force. Why Kutusov hadn’t closed in and trapped the French here on two sides was beyond Casca’s reasoning. Generals had their own way of doing things, and maybe Napoleon’s presence had something to do with it; Kutusov was still afraid of the little genius from Corsica, perhaps? Casca passed the half empty bottle to Muralt and wiped his lips. It would be time soon to follow in the wake of the army and leave this damned place to the Russians. It was theirs anyway, ruined and half smashed. Casca spat in the mud. They could keep it.

Pegot gathered the regiment and assembled them by the bridge. Only 1,200 remained from the 3,200 that had originally set out from Poland, but they were all under arms and their colors and the eagle were still with them.

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