'I know, Joux,' Roger replied. 'But an animal I must have. Procure me a good one a good one, mind and there are thirty napoleons for you. If all else fails, commandeer a mule from the Italians.'
You shall have your beast, Colonel,' the Sergeant-Major grinned. 'Leave it to me.'
In the A.D.Cs Mess, Roger learned that the members of the conference the Emperor had called had wrangled for three hours, but the meeting was now over and the decision he had anticipated had been taken. The army was to evacuate Moscow and winter in Smolensk.
Opinion on the wisdom of retreating was sharply divided. Several of the younger A.D.Cs were young nobles: ex-émigrés with famous names, whom the Emperor had taken on his staff for his own aggrandizement. They were all in favour of retreat. The Niemen, which formed the frontier, was some six hundred miles distant, and Smolensk was getting on for half way to it; so, like Duroc, they argued that, being so much nearer Poland, it would be much easier both to keep open the lines of communication and keep the army supplied.
But the older A.D.Cs who had served through many campaigns, did not agree. In such conditions the army could not be expected to march more than fifteen miles a day. That meant that it would be the first week in November before it reached Smolensk. Just as the summer had proved exceptionally hot, so the autumn weather was unusually fine and sunny. But could it be expected to last? If the snow came early, it would slow down the speed of the march and, as the troops would have to sleep in the open, it would inflict terrible hardship upon them. A great part of Moscow was in ruins, but so was Smolensk, and it was a far smaller city, so was much less easy to defend. Even if the army was cut off and Moscow besieged, they could somehow hang out there. The hardened campaigners had tightened their belts before; up in the Alps, during the siege of Genoa, on the retreat from Acre to Egypt, and many other places. They could do so again, and stick it out until reinforcements reached them in the spring.
The midday meal over, everyone set about his preparations for departure. Roger had already made his, so had only to see the Paymaster and refill his money belt with gold. In the evening he went again to the stables.
Sergeant Major Joux had got for him a sturdy mule. Having made a careful examination of the animal's hooves, Roger willingly paid over the sum he had promised.
Over supper he learned that the Emperor had decided to leave Mortier and his Young Guard in the city, to give the enemy the impression that he meant only to strengthen his line of communication with part of the main army, then return. The Young Guard was to follow a few days later.
On the morning of October 19th, after occupying Moscow for thirty-nine days, the Grand Army began its evacuation of the city.
But it was a very different army from that which had entered it after Borodino. Then the battalions had marched in, column after column, in impressive military formation. Now, it was one vast horde, in which troops were mingled with camp followers. The men were determined to take their loot with them. Many of them were wearing women's furs, or had costly brocade curtains draped over them. There were hundreds upon hundreds of wagons, carts, carriages and hand barrows, in fact everything left in the city that had wheels. All of them were piled high with furniture, bronzes, pictures, china, carpets, clothes, cooking utensils, antiques, jewel-encrusted weapons and sacks of food. On the top of many of them were perched women, mostly Russian whores who, unlike the vivandieres, were unused to foot slogging. About a third of the carts and carriages were drawn by horses or large dogs. The rest were pulled and pushed by groups of men wearing the uniforms of many nations: French, Italian, Polish, Prussian, Czech, Hanoverian, Swiss, Hessian, Dutch, Westphalian, Croat, Wurttemberg’s, Albanian with, here and there, groups of Russian prisoners.
Only the Old Guard marched out in good order, with bands playing and tricolors fluttering beneath the gilded Eagles.
Of the five hundred thousand men and women who had crossed the Niemen toward the end of June, fewer than one in five were destined to live to recross it in December.
23
Death Takes Something on Account
On the advance from Kovno to Moscow, the Grand Army had cut a great swathe through the country, leaving not a thing to eat behind it and very little shelter. But the swathe did not extend for much more than twenty miles on either side of the highway, owing to the limited distances that forays of horsemen could cover and be back by night with the main force, secure from capture by the Cossacks. Well aware of this, the Russians had refrained from scorching the earth outside the limits within which Napoleon's troops could commit their depredations.
The Emperor had therefore decided that, instead of retreating by the way he had come, he would march south-east to Kalouga, as that would enable the army to march through unspoiled country, where there were still inhabited towns and villages, hay-filled barns and, with luck, a number of horses and cattle.
The thought of new territory to plunder greatly cheered the men, but the Generals and Staff were not so happy. They knew that Kutuzov's main army lay out on that flank and, only the previous day, Murat's cavalry had suffered a severe defeat in the neighborhood of Tarutino, which was not far off the route they were to take. But, after five weeks of inactivity, everyone seemed to have taken new heart at again being on the move.
Napoleon, riding his grey, wearing the plain uniform of the Guides and his undecorated tricorne hat, rode between two battalions of the Guard, immediately followed by his staff. Behind them, under Duroc's quartermaster, came the headquarters' baggage train. In addition to its own wagons, a number of others had been commandeered to carry the trophies, loot collected by the staff and a big supply of food reserved for the entourage. A number of them had also secured small vehicles to transport their personal belongings. These followed the wagons with, among them, Mary on her mount and Greuze walking beside the mule.
At midday the Emperor, his people and the Guard halted for a picnic meal at the roadside, clearing the highway for the endless stream of mixed units to continue their march. As Roger watched them going by, he decided they were in better trim than he had judged them to be earlier that morning. Although, at a casual glance, they had the appearance of an incredible rabble, their officers had got them into some sort of order, so that different units were at least distinguishable and, if attacked, could swiftly be called on to leave temporarily the motley collection of vehicles carrying their loot, supplies and women, and get into fighting formations. In general, too, the health of the men appeared better than it had after their long march to Moscow and the terrible battle of Borodino. The majority of those whose wounds had not been too serious for them to stagger as far as the city had since recovered. While in Moscow, for the first few weeks they had enjoyed an abundance of food and, even recently, their rations had been reasonably adequate. Rest and relaxation had put new spirit into them. Many of the groups were singing as they marched and, as they passed the Emperor, they cheered him with something of their old enthusiasm.
The worst weakness of the army was its shortage of horses. Roger noted that in most cases artillery units had had to leave behind their second line ammunition limbers and, in many cases, the guns and first line limbers were drawn by only four or two horses, instead of the normal six. A great part of the cavalry, too, was no longer mounted, but now sharing the lot of the foot slogging infantry. However, as relays of remounts were constantly being sent up from Poland, at least the French cavalrymen could hope to be in the saddle again by the time they reached Smolensk.