been baked any old how: it had been placed in an overheated oven and the outside was burnt and the middle still doughy. Margont bit right into it. He couldn’t believe that he had almost tortured this Bashkir. Was suffering making him mad? He needed to build up some protection against insanity for himself. Instead of repeating that he was marching to the Duchy of Warsaw – which was still so far away – his thoughts turned to Colonel Pirgnon. Don’t let him out of your sight. Keep your monster on a leash, he thought. He said to himself that he didn’t have the right to let himself die or to lose his sanity, and that managed to put some life back into those aching blocks of wood that were his legs. The march resumed. Yet again. *
Colonel Pirgnon was cursing the fog that was hiding the full scale of the disaster from him. In his opinion it was all up for the Emperor. The Russian armies were going to cut off the retreat and that would sound the death knell. The irony of the situation amused him, because while everything around him was dying, he himself felt reborn. His future at last seemed crystal clear. He went up to the soldiers in his escort who, blue with cold, were shivering near a fire. The frozen branches were bad for burning as they produced a sort of smoke but no fire or heat. However, the colonel felt a surge of contentment well up inside him.
On 25 November, the Grande Armee found itself opposite the Berezina. It was here that the Russians had planned to crush it. The Berezina, a huge tributary of the Dnieper, had not in fact frozen over. A hundred and fifty paces wide, almost ten feet deep and bordered by marshes and forest, it cut off the retreat. By now the Emperor only had at his disposal twelve thousand soldiers, half of whom made up the Guard. He could also count on reinforcements of twenty thousand men led by Victor, Oudinot and Dombrovski. In addition to these troops there were forty thousand civilians and stragglers, for the most part unarmed. The Russians, who numbered one hundred and twenty thousand men divided into three armies, had also been weakened by the fighting and the winter. Admiral Chichagov held the west bank of the Berezina and was supposed to prevent the French from getting through. To the north was Wittgenstein and to the east and south, Kutuzov. But the latter, still more than sixty miles away from the French, was not urging his army on. It was Napoleon’s unprecedented prestige that had led the Russian generalissimo to commit this blunder, much to the consternation of his general staff. Napoleon had won so many victories that Kutuzov greatly underestimated the disorganised and weakened state of the Grande Armee. So, once more, he sought to avoid direct confrontation and to let the climate and the hardships do their work.
Napoleon managed a feat that saved a large part of what remained of his army. He sent a battalion followed by thousands of stragglers towards the little town of Borisov. Admiral Chichagov thought that this was where the French would try to cross and moved his troops opposite this position. However, the Emperor ordered General Eble’s pontoneers to build two bridges opposite the village of Studianka. When Chichagov was informed of this work he thought it was a manoeuvre intended to divert him from Borisov. When he eventually realised his mistake, the two bridges across the Berezina had been built in appalling conditions and the French had begun to consolidate themselves on the west bank. The first construction, which was fragile and with a deck that was sometimes at water level, was used by the infantry, and the second, more sturdy, by the artillery and vehicles. Napoleon had had thirty guns set up to protect them.
On 27 November, several corps, including that of Prince Eugene, now consisting of only one thousand eight hundred men, crossed the Berezina.
On 28 November, at seven in the morning, the Russians attacked both banks at the same time.
CHAPTER 33
ON all sides the sound of artillery fire, shooting and shouting could be heard. On both banks the French were attempting to contain the Russians, who were far superior in numbers. The remainder of Davout, Eugene and La Tour Maubourg’s corps were continuing their retreat along the road to Vilna. On the east bank a considerable throng of civilians, deserters and stragglers had congregated. This dense mass was crowding together to try to get across the bridges. In the scramble people were trampled or crushed to death by carts; others were pushed into the water, black muddy water that was carrying huge blocks of ice and armies of corpses along with it. The Russian cannonballs smashed into the hordes from all directions. Part of the deck of the bridge collapsed at regular intervals, plunging clusters of people into the river. Then the pontoneers rapidly set about repairing it. Those who attempted to swim across the Berezina rarely reached the other side. On the east bank, General Fournier’s eight hundred Baden and Hessian troopers launched charge after charge. They were supporting IX Corps, which was holding in check Wittgenstein’s forty thousand Russians. On the other bank, Marshal Oudinot, wounded early on and replaced by Marshal Ney, was facing up to Chichagov’s thirty thousand combatants with nine thousand men. Time was on the side of the Russians, who were gradually receiving reinforcements sent by Kutuzov.
The remnants of Colonel Pirgnon’s regiment had slowed down and had not moved off from the west bank. As a result, Margont and Lefine had also slackened their pace. Saber had stayed with them. An aide-de-camp galloped up and halted his sweating horse in front of Colonel Pirgnon. The rider was exhausted. He was being sent with orders everywhere at once and had to force his way through the pushing and shoving crowds with the aid of his sabre.
‘Colonel, you’re marching too slowly. The retreat must speed up, the Emperor’s orders!’
He immediately wheeled his horse round and set off again, yelling, ‘Out of the way! Out of the way!’
Pirgnon went up to what remained of the 35th of the Line, who had been joined by some stragglers. Only he had heard the messenger’s words.
‘Soldiers, the Emperor is going to launch a counterattack of which we will form the spearhead. We’re going to break through the enemy line. We shall be supported by several regiments and six battalions of the Guard as well as by all the troopers available. The Emperor is going to calm these muzhiks down and ensure the safety of our retreat!’
The majority of the soldiers obeyed and made up an attacking column. No one imagined for a single instant that Pirgnon could have been lying. All of them thought that the aide-de-camp in a hurry was galloping around passing on the order for this massive counterattack. They had faith in the genius of their Emperor, who once more was going to carry all before him. The Guard was going to be in at the kill, the Guard! The Emperor’s favourite child, the elite corps that had never lost a single battle. Pirgnon managed to convince the remnants of other battalions and to rally some stragglers. Placing himself at the head of three hundred motley but fired-up soldiers, he launched his column straight at the thirty thousand Russians.
‘What the hell is he playing at?’ Saber exclaimed.
Pirgnon’s small band of men went past the French line of defence. Those who were confronting the Russians, entrenched behind cut-down trees, snowdrifts or dead bodies, looked on in amazement. Groups of dark figures gesticulated as they went past, either encouraging them or trying desperately to make them change their minds. Margont saw Pirgnon turn round on his mount and wave his sabre above his head as he looked towards him.
‘What reinforcements is he motioning to? Who’s going to support him?’ wondered Saber out loud.
‘He’s motioning to me,’ replied Margont. ‘He’s a very intelligent man. He knows that I know. So he’s bidding me farewell.’
‘But what the hell is he playing at, damn it?’
‘He’s committing suicide. He’s committing suicide with his regiment.’
The Russians reacted immediately. Two squadrons of hussars moved off and charged at the column from the side. In their headlong rush they took out rows of soldiers and broke up the formation into three sections. The troopers began whirling around the infantrymen, slashing away at will. Amidst the confusion the French tried to form square to defend themselves. Why had their cavalry not charged to halt the hussars? Why were the other regiments not coming to their aid?
‘Let’s go!’ exclaimed Margont.
Saber was rendered speechless.
