declared, but this superiority could be overcome if daring tactics were employed. The Swedes seemed to have the Russians where they wanted them. Peter's army had boxed itself into a position with the river and steep bluff behind it and only the ford at Petrovka open as a line of retreat. If Charles' army could cut that line, the Russians would be trapped. At long last, there was a chance of the victory against Peter which Charles had always sought. And as the Tsar himself was with his army, they might be fortunate enough to seize an even greater prize.
In actual numbers, the Swedish army now preparing for battle was little more than half the force that had marched from Saxony two years before. Now there were twenty-four infantry battalions and seventeen regiments of cavalry, a total of 25,000 men, although some of them were badly crippled by wounds and the frostbite of the winter before. Lewenhaupt, who would command the infantry, wanted to throw every available Swede at the Russians, but Charles refused. Two thousand infantrymen were left in the siege works before Poltava to ensure against a sortie by the garrison. Another 2,500 cavalrymen were assigned to guard the Swedish baggage train. A further 1,500 Swedes, mixed infantry and cavalry, were left scattered at various points along the Vorskla below the town to bolster the Cossacks patrolling against a Russian crossing in that region. The 6,000 Cossacks under Mazeppa and Gordeenko did not figure in Charles' plans and were to be kept well clear of the main Swedish army during the battle. The King felt that their undisciplined behavior could only confuse and entangle the well-drilled maneuvers of his Swedish veterans. In all, the Swedish force going into battle against 42,000 Russians totaled 19,000 men.
Although Charles himself would be with the army, his role was to be largely symbolic and inspirational. The King would be with the infantry, carried on a litter between two horses. In case the
horses became restless or unmanageable, or if one happened to be shot, a platoon of twenty-four Guardsmen was assigned to accompany the King and, if necessary, carry the litter. Thus, although the King's physical presence on the battlefield was important—the soldiers attacking against great odds would know that the King was with them—Charles would in fact be helpless. Lying on his back he would not be able to see anything except the sky and the nearby treetops. There was no possibility of following or controlling the movements of a field army in a great battle.
With Charles an invalid, physically unable to sit in his saddle, authority had to be delegated. Command of the army went, naturally, to Rehnskjold, the senior military officer of Sweden after the King. He was, in fact, Charles' own instructor as well as his most experienced and trusted subordinate. Indeed, Rehnskjold was a superb commander, the victor of Fraustadt, the brilliant cavalry leader at Klissow and Golovchin. But now he was assuming command of the King's own army—with the King still present. It was a difficult role, and it was made more difficult by the personalities of the leading soldiers in the Swedish camp.
The first of these difficult personalities was Rehnskjold's own. Now fifty-eight years old—more than thirty years older than Charles—he was a powerful, hot-tempered, physically impressive man with a huge capacity for work and intense loyalty and devotion to Charles. Subordinates sometimes complained that the Field Marshal was haughty and rude. Rehnskjold's tongue could lash—but there were reasons. At an age when most soldiers retired, he had been campaigning in the field for nine years without rest. Like the King, he had campaigned through every summer and autumn and remained in camp through every winter with no thought of furlough. He had had little sleep, poor food, had been under constant strain and was understandably irritable and nervous. He lacked the soft words and smile with which Charles administered reproofs so that the delinquent would outdo himself to please the King thereafter.
Rehnskjold's irritability was especially aggravated by two men who stood close to him. He resented Piper, the senior civilian official of the field chancery. Piper's presence in military discussions, his constant raising of diplomatic and other non-military considerations, hugely annoyed Rehnskjold. In addition, the Field Marshal knew that if something happened to the King, Piper would rightfully assume leadership of the government in the field and become Rehnskjold's superior.
But, more particularly, Rehnskjold did not like Lewenhaupt. The commander of the ill-fated baggage train was a moody, intractable man whose touchiness was exacerbated when Rehnskjold impatiently shouted at him. On the battlefield, Lewenhaupt was a steady commander whose courage never deserted him. After Charles himself, he was the King's finest general of infantry, just as Rehnskjold was Sweden's finest general of cavalry. It was natural, therefore, that Charles should appoint these two to command at Poltava. But he mistakenly ignored their clashing personalities. As he worked out plans for the battle with Rehnskjold, he assumed that the Field Marshal would communicate them to Lewenhaupt, who would be both commanding the infantry and acting as deputy commander, and would need to know the overall plan so that he could follow it and adapt it if conditions changed in the heat of battle. But Rehnskjold decided not to tell Lewenhaupt anything, because he disliked even speaking to him. Lewenhaupt had a way of receiving orders with a haughty, disdainful look, as though only loyalty to Charles could force him to listen to this foolish Rehnskjold. This infuriated the Field Marshal, which is why, on the eve of Poltava, he simply did not tell Lewenhaupt what he proposed to do on the following day.
The resulting confusion proved fatal on the battlefield. It stemmed from the absence of the one commanding figure who rose above such jealousies and who was implicitly obeyed. Lewenhaupt himself recognized this after the battle. 'Would to God our gracious King had not been wounded,' he said, 'for then it had never gone as it did.'
The Swedish plan worked out by Charles and Rehnskjold was to attack with great speed just before dawn, taking the Russians by surprise, and move rapidly past the redoubts, ignoring any fire that might come from the defenders. Once through the redoubts, the Swedish columns would swing left and break out onto the broad plain in front of the main Russian camp. The infantry would march down the western edge of the plain to a position northwest of Peter's entrenched army while the Swedish cavalry swept the field clear of Peter's horsemen. Having reached the desired position between the Russians and the ford at Petrovka, the entire Swedish army would wheel to the right and form a line of battle. If the maneuver worked, the Russians would find themselves pinned into their camp against the riverbank with the steep bluff behind them and the Swedish army ready for battle standing astride their escape route to Petrovka. If they were unwilling to accept Charles' challenge to fight, they would be welcome to stay inside their entrenchments and eventually starve.
Lewenhaupt's infantry, whose total strength was only 7,000 men, was divided into four columns—two on the left comprising ten battalions, and two on the right comprising eight battalions. The King and his stretcher would be with the first column on the left wing, composed entirely of Guards. The second column on the left would be commanded by Major General Karl Gustav Roos, the two on the right by Generals Berndt Stackelberg and Axel Sparre. The cavalry squadrons were divided into six columns, under the overall command of Kreutz. Of the thirty pieces of Swedish artillery still operable, most were left behind in the siege works or with the baggage. This was partly Rehnskjold's decision. He had a cavalryman's distaste for artillery and believed that to drag cannon past the redoubts would reduce the rapid movement he demanded. Further, there would be no time to position the guns and begin a bombardment; besides, the powder was largely spoiled by the wet weather of the previous winter. Accordingly, the Swedes took only four cannon with them. The final decision, Rehnskjold hoped, would be reached with the steel of sword and bayonet.
At eleven p.m on that short summer night, darkness fell and the Swedish infantry quietly broke camp and began moving forward to assembly points. Charles had his wounded foot freshly bandaged and himself dressed in full uniform with a high, spurred boot on his unharmed right leg. Beside him in his litter he laid his naked sword. The litter was carried forward through the long lines of marching men to the position where the Guards battalions were assembling. Here he found Rehnskjold, Piper, Lewenhaupt and his other generals wrapped in their cloaks, talking quietly and waiting. There was little moon and the brief night was relatively dark for a Ukrainian summer evening.
At midnight, when the short darkness was most intense, the soldiers who had been sitting or lying on the ground began to form ranks. There was some confusion in the darkness as battalions sorted themselves out and formed into columns. Uniforms were old, faded and patched after two years of campaigning, and some were scarcely identifiable. To distinguish himself from his enemies, each Swedish soldier took a wisp of straw and fixed it to his cap. In addition, a password was circulated among the troops: 'With God's help' was to be shouted in Swedish in case of confusion. When the four columns were formed, the men were given permission to sit again to rest while waiting for the cavalry to arrive. This delay was longer than expected. Normally, the cavalry squadrons were expertly managed and led by Rhenskjold, but he was not with them, having been given command of the entire army, and the saddling of the horses at Pushkarivka and the forming of six columns of horsemen fell behind schedule.
As they were waiting, the Swedish generals heard a new sound from the Russian lines, a sound of 'knocking
