An Officers Story

From a distance the men looked like a red brick wall standing motionless on top of the small Portuguese  hill.  Their bayonets glistened in the sun.  Before them stood a battalion of France’s best soldiers, the finest fighting force Napoleon could form.

Upon closer inspection, the men’s uniforms were a patchwork of different shades of red.  Most were a mud stained and patched after a long campaign.  Some of the men had the start of full beards and some were missing their shako caps.  Their pants were grey some were white, and yet some were ripped and patched with various shades of grey.

The men stood as still as possible in front of the enemy although not far away four cannons belched smoke, fie and death at them.  Every now and then one of the cannonballs would create a small hole in the ranks of the British soldiers, a hole of torn bodies and blood which was soon filled in by sergeants in the rear rank.

“Keep it tight!” the sergeants would yell at the men, “close the ranks, Keep it tight men.”

Behind his men Colonel Andrews sat atop his horse.  His uniform although cleaner than his men’s still showed that he had been campaigning for the better part of a month.  He rode behind the ranks of his men shouting encouragement at them and asking each man to do his duty for his country, and the man next to him.  His shouts were not those of most officers.  He called his men by their first names and made some personal jokes with some of the sergeants.  This was all highly uncommon in the structured British army of the time.

To one particularly tall soldier Andrews called “Stephen why don’t you get on your knees maybe you wont standout so much.” and to another he yelled “Steady now James you know that girl in Porto is waiting for you tonight.”

Due to all of this personal attention Andrews knew none of his men would run away in the coming battle.  They loved him as much as he loved them.  They were not the cleanest troops in the army and they certainly were not the best behaved troops, but they could fight.  Most of the men were criminals given a choice of the army of jail.  For some reason they all were given to Andrews.

“Steady men here they come.” Shouted Andrews as the French infantry began to close on his double line of troops.

A shrill whistle blew on the left flank of the Colonels line and the light company who was deployed forward of his line began to leapfrog back toward the safety of the battalion, firing at the French line as they went.  In groups of two, the light company men would fire at the French officers and sergeants as they retreated.  They were not meant to stop the enemy but only to cause confusion and wreak havoc in the enemy ranks.

Slowly the French crept closer to the waiting British infantry.  Their drums beating out a steady rhythm, a rhythm that to some of the younger troops sounded like doom was creeping upon them.  Once the French were within a few hundred yards the cannon fire finally ceased.

Ignoring the cries of his men to get off of his horse Colonel Andrews moved to the middle of his line and waited for the French onslaught with his men.

“Wait until they are within 25 yards then let them have it men,” cried Andrews.

Every now and then one of the Frenchmen would drop with a rose colored mark on his uniform, but yet they kept coming, their drums still beating a death march  for the French and the English soldiers who were only doing the duty for their countries.

“Make ready!,” screamed Andrews and in unison the redcoats made their brown bess muskets ready to fire.

“Aim!” he screamed as the French crept ever closer to the front rank of the men.  Occasionally a shot would be heard from a young troop who was getting anxious waiting for the French.

“FI” his words were cut off as his entire battalion fired and the French column disappeared in a cloud of smoke and fire, and finally the English were returning the favor after and hour of bombardment.

“CHARGE!” was the next order given by Andrews and he and his men charged into the smoke to find the broken French ranks still standing, but in disarray.

Like dogs let off a leash the soldiers charged head first into the French ranks slashing with bayonets and using muskets like clubs.  The English soldiers showed no mercy and fought like the cutthroats they were. 

Although it was the French who attacked the momentum was in the English soldiers favor now.  The effects of the deadly volley fire and the unexpected charge had the French in disarray.  The battle had now become a mass of confusion and smoke. 

Through the smoke Andrews saw a group of French soldiers trying to surrender only to have their throats  cut by a soldier.  He was very proud of the men who blindly followed his judgment and killed on his orders. 

Then out of the smoke ran a French soldier his musket at the ready.  Things turned to slow motion for the colonel, he saw the young soldier eye’s as big as saucers and the white muddy finger slowly squeeze the trigger.  He saw the flash as the trigger hit the striker on the musket and the cloud of smoke from the muskets barrel as the musket fired.

Then nothing.  The bullet passed through the Colonels left eye entering the brain and leaving a hole the size of a fist in the head of the colonel.  The men who he lead into battle did not even notice he went down until hours after the battle.  His body just stayed there amidst the other dead and wounded soldier and officer side by side in death. 

This is the reason Colonel Andrews was so friendly with his men.  Death in battle does not differentiate between officer or soldier veteran or recruit death is just the end.