JК
Sharpes Battle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 180 из 244"Maybe we shall fight tomorrow instead?"
Up on the ridge the British watched as French troops marched south. It was clear that Massena would now be trying to turn the British right flank and so Wellington ordered the Seventh Division to deploy southwards and thus reinforce a strong force of Spanish partisans who were blocking the roads the French needed to advance artillery as part of their flanking manoeuvre. Wellington's army was now in two parts; the largest on the plateau behind Fuentes de Onoro was blocking the approach to Almeida while the smaller part was two and a half miles south astride the road along which the British would need to retreat if they were defeated. Massena put a telescope to his one eye to watch as the small British division moved south. He kept expecting the division to stop before it left the protective artillery range of the plateau, but the troops kept marching and marching. "He's made a bollocks of it," he told an aide as the Seventh Division finally marched way beyond the range of the strong British artillery. Massena collapsed the telescope. "Monsieur Wellington has made a bollocks of it," he said.
Andrй Massena had begun his military career as a private in the ranks of Louis XVI's army and now he was a marshal of France, the Duke of Rivoli and the Prince of Essling. Men called him "Your Majesty", yet once he had been a half-starved wharf rat in the small town of Nice. He had also once possessed two eyes, but the Emperor had shot one of the eyeballs away in a hunting accident. Napoleon would never acknowledge the responsibility, but nor would Marshal Massйna ever dream of blaming his beloved Emperor for the eye's loss, for he owed both his royal status and his high military rank to Napoleon who had recognized the wharf rat's skills as a soldier. Those skills had made Andrй Massйna famous inside the Empire and feared outside. He had trampled through Italy winning victory after victory, he had smashed the Russians on the borders of Switzerland and rammed bloody defeat down Austrian throats before Marengo. Marshal Andrй Massйna, Duke of Rivoli and Prince of Essling, was not a pretty soldier, but by God he knew how to fight, which was why, at fifty-two years old, he had been sent to retrieve the disasters besetting the Emperor's armies in Spain and Portugal.
Now the wharf rat turned prince watched in disbelief as the gap between the two parts of the British army opened still wider.
Up on the ridge the British watched as French troops marched south. It was clear that Massena would now be trying to turn the British right flank and so Wellington ordered the Seventh Division to deploy southwards and thus reinforce a strong force of Spanish partisans who were blocking the roads the French needed to advance artillery as part of their flanking manoeuvre. Wellington's army was now in two parts; the largest on the plateau behind Fuentes de Onoro was blocking the approach to Almeida while the smaller part was two and a half miles south astride the road along which the British would need to retreat if they were defeated. Massena put a telescope to his one eye to watch as the small British division moved south. He kept expecting the division to stop before it left the protective artillery range of the plateau, but the troops kept marching and marching. "He's made a bollocks of it," he told an aide as the Seventh Division finally marched way beyond the range of the strong British artillery. Massena collapsed the telescope. "Monsieur Wellington has made a bollocks of it," he said.
Andrй Massena had begun his military career as a private in the ranks of Louis XVI's army and now he was a marshal of France, the Duke of Rivoli and the Prince of Essling. Men called him "Your Majesty", yet once he had been a half-starved wharf rat in the small town of Nice. He had also once possessed two eyes, but the Emperor had shot one of the eyeballs away in a hunting accident. Napoleon would never acknowledge the responsibility, but nor would Marshal Massйna ever dream of blaming his beloved Emperor for the eye's loss, for he owed both his royal status and his high military rank to Napoleon who had recognized the wharf rat's skills as a soldier. Those skills had made Andrй Massйna famous inside the Empire and feared outside. He had trampled through Italy winning victory after victory, he had smashed the Russians on the borders of Switzerland and rammed bloody defeat down Austrian throats before Marengo. Marshal Andrй Massйna, Duke of Rivoli and Prince of Essling, was not a pretty soldier, but by God he knew how to fight, which was why, at fifty-two years old, he had been sent to retrieve the disasters besetting the Emperor's armies in Spain and Portugal.
Now the wharf rat turned prince watched in disbelief as the gap between the two parts of the British army opened still wider.