The Radiant Republic 74. Bandits in the Trap

More exciting than his imminent promotion to Captain was the fact that Major Moncey had formally recomnded Davout as staff adjutant to Colonel André and, barring surprises, he would take up the post the following week. According to Second Company commander Lieutenant Augereau, because the regintal commander, André, was deeply dissatisfied with the chief of staff, he had been steadily stripping Lieutenant Colonel Berthier of his authority. Apart from lecturing officers and NCOs at the temporary military school, the chief of staff had in practice lost control of the staff departnt. In effect, as staff adjutant, Davout might end up performing half the duties of a chief of staff.

Fine, the power struggle among his superiors had little to do with Davout, but if he had to choose a side, there was no question he would obey Colonel André. Although Berthier, like Davout himself, ca from the nobility—and Louis XVI had even presented Davout with a warhorse upon his graduation from the military academy—the young lieutenant still felt that the common-born Colonel André was far more worthy of trust, and that his prospects would be brighter if he stayed with the Champagne Composite Regint.

Most imdiately and most deeply felt was this: everyone in the regint was paid in full and on ti, sothing exceedingly rare in the French army of 1791. Thus, while other units let their equipnt decay and their morale collapse, the Champagne Composite Regint, with its strict discipline and rigorous training, still maintained high spirits and real cohesion.

By contrast, almost every other French unit had been infected by the “revolutionary plague” spreading out from Paris—and it was spreading explosively. Before the Revolution, French soldiers had had two common grievances: first, their officers were nobles; second, those noble officers had long skimd and withheld the n’s pay. So when, under the influence of the Revolution, the soldiers were forced to choose a side, they seized on “liberty” and “equality” as their talismans and refused to obey any orders from their officers.

In reality, however, the soldiers’ committees that sprang up everywhere corrupted themselves with astonishing speed, and their embezzlent soon surpassed that of the old noble quartermasters. In the town of Hesdin in the Pas-de-Calais, where the Champagne cavalry regint was stationed, hungry soldiers, egged on by junior officers, repeatedly banded together to set up illegal toll barriers, levying “patriotic taxes” on passing rchants; so even turned themselves into masked highwayn, robbing governnt treasure transports—the postal coaches. Even Davout, who had once raised his voice on the soldiers’ behalf and gone to prison for it, saw this with bitter clarity. More than once he lanted inwardly that the invincible lions of the Sun King were marching toward a self-inflicted tragedy.

In the Champagne Composite Regint, Colonel André’s thods of command seed simple and harsh, but they were extrely effective. Promotion was not limited by birth, only by ability and the commander’s judgnt; pay arrived on ti and in full, and regintal benefits were beyond reproach: new uniforms, plentiful food, good sanitation, a proper field hospital, and so on. It was worth noting that Colonel André, who also served as Deputy Chief Prosecutor of the Marne, had a talent for raising money that no other officer could match.

The one non-negotiable rule was that subordinates had to obey orders from above without question. “Liberty and equality” had no place inside the strictly hierarchical Champagne Composite Regint. Any soldier who tried to challenge that principle was usually flogged 5 to 8 tis in public and expelled from the camp; the ringleaders, in more serious cases, were condemned by a court-martial for inciting mutiny and flogged to death.

Since formally joining the Champagne Composite Regint in November last year, Lieutenant Davout had personally watched 3 sergeants with royalist sympathies or dangerously liberal ideas die miserably on the execution scaffold in the middle of the parade ground.

At first, as a fervent republican, Davout had found it hard to accept and had even considered resigning from the Champagne Composite Regint and going ho. But under the persuasion of his brother-in-law Friant, he had ultimately stayed on, moving from initial resistance and incomprehension to calm acceptance, and now enforced the regintal rules as strictly as anyone.

…

After the regint moved into Bacourt camp, whenever he had ti André would go to the military-school building to comnt on current affairs for the officers—to “re-educate” them, as he himself put it. The session that stayed most vividly in Davout’s mory was the one devoted to the Nancy mutiny.

Unlike his fierce attacks on Marquis de Bouillé in the Constituent Assembly—where he had denounced him as a butcher general—André, speaking in the lecture hall, expressed great admiration for this determined and energetic nobleman of the Royalist Party. He even openly praised the Marquis’s troops for their rapid marches and courageous fighting, which had rescued Nancy from disaster.

Before Marquis de Bouillé arrived, the mutiny had plunged all of Nancy into panic. Weapons were everywhere; mobs road the streets, burning, killing and looting. From the mayor down to the humblest townsman, no one’s safety could be guaranteed. The very air of the city was thick with fear, rage and death. As one municipal councillor who witnessed the events put it, “Nancy is no longer a city; it has beco a madhouse.”

Yet about this very capable commander and his victorious troops André declared that the Royal German Legion would be able to hold the frontier at tz for only 3 to 5 months. The colonel then explained, in the tone of a prophet:

“It is because Marquis de Bouillé’s stronghold is built on sand, without any solid foundation beneath it. The German rcenary corps is only temporarily stationed at tz and cannot draw its pay and supplies directly from the local population, who hate German rcenaries. The impeachnt motion I brought in the Constituent Assembly has already thrown the ministry into confusion, and the German Legion’s pay and rations will be cut by a third as a result. By around Easter the rcenaries will be receiving less than half of what they used to, and the situation will go on deteriorating…

“Give it another two or three months and this seemingly mighty German Legion will collapse like that castle built on sand. So, gentlen, if you do not want the Champagne Composite Regint to face the sa plight, help hold this camp, hold Reims, and hold the Marne. Let this land flowing with milk and honey beco our first foundation. Anyone—any force—that tries to sow chaos here must be wiped out, decisively and without rcy.”

Davout rembered very clearly the expression on Colonel André’s face as he spoke those last words: contorted, bristling with murderous intent. And the colonel’s words were soon fulfilled first of all in Reims. After an attempted assassination, more than 500 suspects were thrown into the convent prison, and 25 condemned n were led to the gallows.

After Captain Hoche’s cavalry battalion had been sent south to Reims, Davout’s 3rd Infantry Company was ordered to take over the southern sector of the camp’s defences. Soon his old subordinate Morand, now promoted to sergeant, ca to report that the defensive works and garrison facing the town in front of the field hospital were weak and ought to be reinforced.

When Davout reported this to Major Moncey, the major produced a docunt marked top secret and motioned for the lieutenant to read it. Once Davout had finished, Moncey issued his orders: “Lieutenant Davout, your company and Villed’s company will join Lieutenant Augereau’s 1st Company to form the front line blocking force. You will all operate under Major Senarmont’s command.”

According to the plan, before the battle began Lieutenant Macdonald’s 2nd Infantry Company and Second Lieutenant Masséna’s 3rd Infantry Company would quickly abandon their original sectors and, together with the supply and engineer company, form a defensive ring around regintal headquarters and the main stores. At the sa ti, the artillery commanded by Major Senarmont would secretly shift westwards to support the 3 infantry companies holding the field-hospital sector.

Thus Major Moncey would command from the centre, while Major Senarmont held the enemy frontally. Within 15 minutes of the start of the fighting, Captain Hoche’s cavalry battalion would arrive on the western sector as the decisive force and complete the destruction of the invading Arden rebels…

“No, no, no—not rely destroy them.” At gendarrie headquarters in Reims, André was giving Captain Hoche his instructions in person. “I had the intelligence service go to such trouble to set this trap not just to wipe out Véran and his bandits, but to strip this force lurking in the Ardennes of its Royalist Party elent and bring it over to our side. The Ardennes and these mounted bandits are both vital links in the smuggling trade. And…”

Already the previous year, when the Ardennes communal council and the local National Guard had refused to cooperate with the Champagne Composite Regint’s plans for a joint campaign against the bandits, André had begun to suspect a strong Royalist Party leaning in that frontier départent. At first the deputy chief prosecutor had wanted to resolve matters peacefully. He had sent envoys to contact Judge Vinault, living in seclusion at Sedan, hoping that the latter’s influence would persuade the leaders of the Ardennes National Guard to agree to a joint operation.

However, André’s efforts at peace had clearly been in vain, and the other side’s arrogance had succeeded in enraging him.

So, humiliated and furious, André had written at once to several left-wing leaders in the Constituent Assembly, feeding them dossiers embellished by the intelligence service and asking that the National Assembly and the National Guard’s commander-in-chief, Lafayette, bring heavy political pressure to bear on the Ardennes commune. Moreover, once Lieutenant Colonel Véran—faithful servant of Marquis de Bouillé—had been eliminated, André intended to use his agents within the guerrilla force to bring it over to his side, set it to stirring up unrest throughout the Ardennes, and thereby extend his own influence into the départent and even into the northern French Netherlands.

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“Who are the n coming over to us? How do we tell them apart in battle?” Hoche asked.

André smiled and waved the intelligence officer waiting outside into the room. “Second Lieutenant Penduvas will serve as your adjutant in the coming engagent,” he told Hoche. “He will answer those questions for you.”

As for the outco of the battle, André had no worries at all. With calculation on one side and none on the other, with inside agents helping him and all the advantages of fighting on his own ground, if he still managed to let the bandits escape he might as well smash a cake in his own face.

…

The number of mounted bandits—the guerrillas—hiding in the Ardennes forest varied, usually between 500 and 600 n, but their main strength was 3 cavalry squadrons, whose officers were mostly conservative noblen opposed to the National Assembly.

According to the agreed plan, the force reached the outskirts of Bacourt in the middle of the night. It was still early spring, and the difference between day and night around Reims was large: bright sunshine by day, but bitter cold after dark, with temperatures dropping to only 2 or 3 degrees. By 7 p.m. most of the town’s inhabitants had already gone to bed.

According to the plan, Captain François and his n first burst into the inn and seized the innkeeper—who was also the mayor—and his family. Dressed as a herdsman, Captain François stepped forward with a faintly apologetic air and said, “I am sorry, Monsieur Labret. There is going to be a battle near your town. If you and your family cooperate with our just cause, I guarantee that no one will be hard.”

With that, the captain waved his hand, signalling his n to herd the mayor and his family, along with the inn servants and several lodgers, down into the cellar, bolt the door and set a guard.

Two hours later, the sound of hoofbeats ca from outside the inn, followed by a familiar whistle. At once everyone brightened. Captain François led his n out to greet Lieutenant Colonel Véran with great respect. The officers ford a circle around him, all eyes fixed on their commander.

Stripped of his outer cloak, Lieutenant Colonel Véran appeared in the white review uniform of the royal guards, the Bourbon fleur-de-lis pinned to his soft three-cornered hat. He went to the fireplace and ward his frozen hands over the flas before turning and asking loudly, “Gentlen, where are the King’s warriors?”

His subordinates stepped forward in turn to report:

“1st Cavalry Squadron is concealed on the enemy’s left flank and will launch the initial attack!”

“2nd Cavalry Squadron is concealed on the right and will follow the 1st in!”

When his turn ca, Captain François said, “3rd Cavalry Squadron has taken control of Bacourt and will be responsible for supporting the main force and keeping the inhabitants under observation.”

“Excellent, gentlen!” The lieutenant colonel drew his sword and held it high. “For France—long live the King!”

His n, equally fired up, drew their own swords and shouted in unison:

“For France—long live the King!”

…

Once the commander and his officers had ridden off, Captain François, who was to remain behind and cover their retreat, shut himself in a room at the inn. His eyes were blank, his head bowed, his whole body slumped weakly on the bench. He knew perfectly well that the battle Lieutenant Colonel Véran was about to launch would plunge straight into a carefully prepared trap, and that he himself was one of the n who had helped to set it.

Born into a ruined noble family, Captain François did not like his soldier’s life; in truth, he rather despised it. More than 20 years earlier, during the Seven Years’ War, he had lost his father while still a child. A little over 10 years ago, in a naval battle in the Caribbean during the Arican War of Independence, he had lost an elder brother as well.

To support his widowed mother and 3 fatherless nieces and nephews, 18-year-old Francis had had to give up his university studies and enlist. As the son and brother of fallen soldiers, he was quickly selected for the royal guards and, 10 years later, was promoted to Captain.

At the outset of the Revolution in Paris, the King’s brother Comte de Provence, acting on Louis XVI’s orders, had picked several officers from the guards to handle intelligence links between the court and the émigré nobility; Captain François, from his family of soldiers, was among them. After the October Days, when Louis XVI returned to the Tuileries and beca afraid that the National Assembly would uncover the sche, he ordered it shut down. Captain François, unable to go back to the guards, was placed under Marquis de Bouillé and later caught the eye of Lieutenant Colonel Véran, who had secretly returned to France. Véran made him commander of one of the Ardennes guerrilla squadrons.

In truth, Captain François had long grown weary of a military career with no future, to say nothing of the precarious life of a bandit—“guerrilla”—rider. After several etings with agents of the intelligence office, he had decisively resolved to dismount and save his own skin by going over to the ruler of Reims. The promise of a cash draft for 100,000 livres was also hard to refuse. Through its agent, the Military Intelligence Office even gave a solemn pledge in Colonel André’s na: passages would be arranged for Captain François and his entire family to the colony of New Orléans.

When Captain François’s entire family had placed themselves under gendarrie supervision as hostages, the Military Intelligence Office handed the captain his reward of 100,000 livres. Once Lieutenant Colonel Véran and his 2 cavalry squadrons were defeated, Francis would be able to take his family and sail far away to the New World in North Arica to seek a new life.

…

That night a dense fog filled earth and sky. The bright moon that had shone earlier vanished in the small hours, and town, woods and the horses hidden among the trees were all swallowed by darkness. The stretch between the western outposts of the camp and the hospital lay in darkness as well.

Standing guard on such a cold night was exhausting and made a man long for his warm bed. Lieutenant Davout was sure that Lieutenant Augereau beside him felt the sa. As for Major Senarmont, the acting commander, he was out on the line making a final inspection of the positions, accompanied by Captain Villed of 5th Company.

“Our major is a little nervous. It is his first ti commanding a battle in person, after all,” Augereau whispered with a laugh in the dark. To the big Prussian, the defences that night already looked impregnable; all that remained was for the bandits to blunder into the trap and die. The only real question was which of the two frontline commanders—Captain Hoche or Major Senarmont—would earn the greater share of the glory.

After a long, dull wait Augereau let out a great yawn, then took a pinch of tobacco from his pocket and chewed it—no smoking, for fear the fla might give them away. The tobacco’s bitter taste gave the veteran a slight jolt of energy.

“Oh, by the way—congratulations,” he said, changing the subject when he saw that Davout was not very talkative. Thick-skinned as ever, Augereau was keen to get along with the colonel’s newly appointed adjutant.

“Thank you,” Davout replied briefly. As was his habit, he looked up at the sky. It was now the latter half of the night. The thick clouds that had hidden the moon were beginning to break apart, and through the gaps a faint, hazy light seeped into the blackness.

At the sa ti, so distance away, Lieutenant Colonel Véran sat his horse in a stand of trees as silent as the bottom of the sea, using the faint moonlight to stare at the enemy camp 500 tres off. At so point a strong sense of unease had risen in his chest, so strong that he did not even notice when his orderly rode up to report.

Only after the ssenger urged him several tis did Lieutenant Colonel Véran co back to himself. After a brief hesitation he made his decision: “In 5 minutes we proceed according to plan.”

Shortly afterwards, a few owl calls sounded in the silent night sky. That was the signal from the guerrillas’ advance party: the sentries on the road to the camp hospital had been eliminated, and the chevaux-de-frise and other obstacles dragged aside.

Lieutenant Colonel Véran’s face remained cold, almost lifeless. He suddenly drew his sabre and swept it through the air, the blade flashing in the dark. Then, turning one last ti to et his n’s expectant gaze, he shouted, “For the King—follow !”

With that he dug his spurs into his horse’s flanks, sending the animal surging forward at full gallop. From beginning to end Lieutenant Colonel Véran was the first to charge at the enemy who fought for the National Assembly.

Riding on without eting any resistance, Lieutenant Colonel Véran finally saw the deadly trap hidden inside the camp. The defenders had silently thrown up a new trench, 3 tres wide, and a double belt of barbed wire around the hospital. Worse still, he could make out 3 artillery positions with at least 10 guns.

Lieutenant Colonel Véran was now certain that there was a traitor in the ranks—and that Captain François, left behind in the town, was the most likely culprit. But it was too late to turn back. Doing so would not only throw the formation into confusion, but also shatter morale. And if 3rd Squadron had betrayed them, their line of retreat was already cut off. Faced with such a dead end, the only choices were to dismount and surrender, or to spur on and hope to hack a bloody path through.

Without hesitation, Lieutenant Colonel Véran and the 2 squadrons still loyal to him chose the latter.

“Fire on those bandits!” After a brief, failed attempt to call on them to surrender, the officer commanding the guns shouted the order.

The words Major Senarmont roared broke out of a silence so eerie it seed to weigh on everything and everyone. As soon as the artillery ceased firing, the n of the 2 infantry companies popped up from cover and poured volley after volley into the panicked enemy horsen.

Artillery and infantry fire alternated without a pause; bullets and shot fell like rain, rcilessly. Most of those hit had no ti even to groan before they pitched from their saddles to the ground…

When all the gunfire and every last moan had faded, Davout walked alone across the field with a torch in his hand. He stopped beside a body and looked down at the motionless figure of Lieutenant Colonel Véran, dead for so ti already. His white guardsman’s uniform, soaked in blood, made him easy to recognise.

The man’s right hand still clutched his sabre; clearly his will to fight had remained unbroken to the very last. Davout bent down and carefully wiped the dried blood from the dead man’s face as a mark of respect for an enemy fallen in battle. Then he studied once more that frozen mask of deep-seated rage, fear and stubborn defiance.

Davout waved his torch, signalling the soldiers behind him to lift the brave but defeated man’s body and lay it aside to await a coffin. Burial could not take place at once. As an important suspect wanted by order of the Marne communal council, Lieutenant Colonel Véran’s body, together with those of his two squadron leaders, would be sent by the gendars to Châlons-en-Champagne for final identification in the office of the departnt’s Chief Prosecutor.

…

“Brave—and stupid—the royalists,” Colonel André said the next morning over breakfast at gendarrie headquarters in Reims, when he had heard Second Lieutenant Penduvas’s report on the fighting. That was his final verdict.

When the two cavalry squadrons under Lieutenant Colonel Véran rode into the prepared killing ground, the Royalist Party officer had refused to surrender and instead hurled himself again and again in suicidal charges against the defenders behind the trench and double wire. Fired by their commander’s desperate courage, the horsen brandished their sabres and shouted as they spurred on, one after another, like moths flying into a fla, ending their lives amid the storm of case-shot and bullets.

In this engagent the two Ardennes bandit squadrons were annihilated. A total of 265 officers and n, including Lieutenant Colonel Véran himself, were killed or mortally wounded, and the rest fell prisoner. By contrast, the camp garrison, fighting with every advantage of ground and preparation, lost a little over 20 n, of whom only 5 were killed or seriously wounded.