Napoleon lowered his telescope and followed the direction Berthier was indicating. Six artillery pieces were being hurriedly hauled up to the Heights by their crews and soldiers detailed to help them. At the head of the horse teams drawing the guns was a figure on a powerful mount, who had raised his white-plumed hat and was urging the artillery teams on towards their comrades.
‘It’s Soult,’ Napoleon confirmed tersely. ‘And he’s doing what is necessary.’
Soult led his guns through Pratzen and forward to the head of St-Hilaire’s division where they unlimbered and opened fire, immediately tearing great holes in the Austrian line as they discharged case shot at close range. Heavy iron balls blasted out from each gun in a tight cone that tore the stolid Austrian infantry to pieces. Their discipline wavered and they began to give way, falling back towards the town of Austerlitz on the far side of the Pratzen Heights. As soon as Vandamme had taken the earthworks from their zealous defenders he came up in support of the other division, and an hour and a half after the attack had begun French standards dominated the Heights.
Napoleon snapped his telescope shut and called for his horse before turning to Berthier. ‘We’re moving the headquarters forward to Pratzen.’
‘Pratzen? But sire, what if you lose touch with our right flank?’
‘The men on the flank are holding their own. Once Davout arrives with the rest of his men they can retake Tellnitz and Zokolnitz. I need to be close to the heart of the battle. Come, Berthier, we must ride there at once!’
As the church clock chimed noon Napoleon and his staff approached Pratzen.The slope before the village was spotted with the blue uniforms of the French skirmishers who had been cut down as they approached the enemy- held houses. Once they entered the village Napoleon and the other officers had to slow their mounts to a walk as they picked their way over the French and Austrian bodies strewn across the narrow street. When they reached the church Napoleon reined in and turned to Berthier.
‘Set up in the church.Then give orders for reinforcements to be sent to Davout. I want Bernadotte’s corps up here as soon as possible, and order the Guard up to the Heights.’
Leaving his staff behind, Napoleon rode on with ten men of the Imperial Guard chasseurs to a small rise beyond the village from where he could get a better view of the battle’s progress.To the left, Lannes was steadily pushing back the Russians, away from the Pratzen Heights, allowing Murat and his cavalry to charge into the enemy line, threatening to cut them in two.To the right, Napoleon saw that the enemy was still fully engaged with Davout’s corps. Even though he was outnumbered by at least three to one, Davout was holding his ground. Beyond the right flank stretched a series of frozen ponds and small lakes surrounded by marshes that hemmed in the men fighting at that end of the battlefield. Napoleon immediately saw his opportunity. Once the enemy centre was broken, then the French could wheel round and trap nearly half of the allied army against the ponds and lakes.
Turning his attention to the east, Napoleon saw that Kutusov had only one body of men left that could still challenge the French mastery of the Heights. Moving up from the direction of the town of Austerlitz came the elite soldiers of the Russian Guard. As many as three thousand of them, Napoleon estimated. Their fine banners billowed in the cold air and sunlight glinted off their bayonets as they advanced in neat lines. Napoleon could not help admiring their brave appearance as they held their formation and marched steadily up the slope towards the lines of Vandamme’s infantry silently waiting for them. Spurring his horse on, he led his escort over to General Vandamme, who was shouting encouragement to his men as they watched the enemy approach. The general turned at the sound of approaching hoofbeats.
‘Sire.’ He bowed his head briefly. ‘You’ve joined us at an interesting moment.’
‘So I can see. I am sure your men will stand their ground.’
‘They will,’ Vandamme replied firmly.
At that moment, while the nearest Russians were still over three hundred paces from the French, they suddenly let out a great roar and surged up the slope.
Vandamme raised his eyebrows.‘They must be mad.They’ll be blown by the time they reach us.’
‘That may be so.’ Napoleon nodded. ‘But what they lack in brains they seem to make up for with courage.’
They stared fixedly as the Russians came on, hurling themselves up the slope, mouths agape as they shouted their war cries. The standards jostled above the thick shivering sea of bayonets, broken here and there by a sword as the officers urged their men on. Any pretence of formation was soon lost and it seemed to Napoleon as if the French were about to be engulfed by a raging mob.
‘Ready muskets!’ Vandamme bellowed out and the order was repeated along the front line as the men brought their weapons up and levelled them at the face of the oncoming enemy. When the foremost Russians were little more than fifty paces from the tips of the French bayonets,Vandamme bellowed, ‘Fire!’
A ragged volley crashed out along the front line and the enemy was instantly obscured by a billowing veil of powder smoke. A light wind was blowing over the Heights and the smoke quickly dispersed enough to reveal that scores of the Russians had been struck down, but already their comrades were leaping over them, bayonets levelled as they raced towards the French.Vandamme’s men hurriedly grounded their muskets and drew fresh cartridges from their pouches, biting the ends off and pouring the powder into their muzzles, before spitting the balls in and ramming the charges home.There was just enough time to fire a second desperate volley before the charge reached them. Once again smoke filled the air, but before it could disperse the Russians charged through and ran full pelt in amongst the French. Within seconds the front line had turned into a chaotic tangle of blue and green uniforms as the Russians fought like ferocious beasts. There was no attempt at bayonet drill, just violent thrusts of the blade and bone-crunching thuds as the butts of their weapons were used like clubs.
The first line of Vandamme’s division reeled under the impact and for a moment it held, before the first of the Russians burst through and the line quickly dissolved into a general melee.
‘Your men are going to break,’ Napoleon said quietly.
Vandamme was silent for a moment before he conceded, ‘I fear so, sire.’
‘Then you must hold them with the second line. Understand?’
‘Yes, sire.’
Napoleon turned to one of his escort.‘Get back to headquarters.Tell Berthier I want the Guard cavalry sent to support Vandamme at once.’
