This time Arthur held his fire until the hussars were much closer, intending to break the charge in one shattering volley.The hussars slowed momentarily as they negotiated the dead and injured of the first attack, and then flew at the British square.
'Fire!'
The same savage blast of fire and the same carnage as before, followed a moment later by more fire from the sides of the square as the enemy careered past, and several more of them were shot from their saddles or were crushed as their stricken mounts stumbled and rolled across them. There was a brief hiatus as the French cavalry reined in and reached for their firearms. Arthur seized the opportunity.
'The square will retire towards the village! Sergeants, keep the formation tight!'
As the sergeant major called the pace, the square crawled towards the village, one step at a time, not stopping to reload their weapons. Now the advantage passed to the enemy as the hussars drew their pistols and carbines and began to fire into the square at close range.The first of Arthur's men began to fall, some killed outright and left sprawled on the ground as their comrades stepped carefully over them. The injured were hauled into the centre of the square where the men of the colour party and the bandsmen did their best to carry them along with the square as it inched towards the village.
Even as Arthur watched, a hussar, not thirty feet away from him, raised his carbine, calmly took aim along the barrel and the muzzle foreshortened until the barrel became a dot, and Arthur realised with a sick feeling of fear that the hussar had picked him as a target.The Frenchman smiled, squinted an eye and pulled the trigger. The muzzle flashed and Arthur instinctively snapped his eyes shut and waited for the tearing agony of the impact. There was a cry from close by and he felt a body lurch against his boot. Arthur opened his eyes and looked down as a corporal slumped to the ground beside his horse, clutching at his throat, from which blood pumped out in thick jets. The man looked up in desperation and for an instant their eyes met and Arthur felt a horrified panic seize him as he beheld the dying man. Then he shook it off and spurred his horse on towards the front of the square, not daring to glance back at the mortally wounded soldier. Captain Fitzroy was walking his horse up and down behind the front face of the square, shouting encouragement to his men as they endured the sporadic fire from the hussars between the square and the village. At sight of Arthur he reined in and forced himself to smile.
'Hot work, sir.'
'Indeed.'Arthur flinched as a shot smacked into the face of one of the men in the leading company. 'We can't have this. They're hitting too many of our men. We must stop and reload.'
'Stop? Is that wise, sir. It'll give them time to bring up even more forces.'
'Maybe, but I'll not lose more men than I must.'
Arthur wheeled away and sought out the sergeant major. 'Halt the square and reload.'
'Yes, sir.' The sergeant major saluted, drew a breath and bellowed out the orders, bringing the regiment to a standstill. At once the redcoats reached for fresh cartridges and began the steady sequence of movements to ready their weapons.
'Fire by companies!' Arthur called out and a series of volleys flashed out from each face of the square, scything through the hussars who had been tormenting them only a moment earlier. A scattered outline of dead and dying soon formed a short distance from each side of the square with only a handful of shots from the enemy in reply. After several volleys the French sounded the recall and the remaining horsemen swiftly wheeled their mounts and galloped out of range.
'Cease fire! Cease fire!' Arthur pointed towards the nearest buildings. 'The regiment will retire towards the village.'
Once more the square slowly shuffled away from the enemy. This time the French did not intervene but shadowed the redcoats from just beyond effective musket range, ready to charge the moment the British formation was disrupted. However, the long months of monotonous drilling on parade grounds back in Britain proved their worth and the 33rd Foot gained the edge of the village. With buildings and fences to guard their flanks, the square formation was no longer required and Arthur was able to deploy one company across the narrow street as a rearguard while the others filed along the narrow thoroughfare towards the bridge.
Assured that his men were safe for the moment, Arthur turned his horse towards the bridge.The tail of the baggage train was still feeding across the narrow span, and some of the larger vehicles, too wide for the passage, had been unhitched from their draught animals and rolled down the steep bank into the river. Lord Moira and his small staff stood off to one side watching proceedings and looked round at the sound of Arthur's mount clattering across the cobbles of the village's market square.
Arthur reined in as Lord Moira waved a greeting. 'What's the situation, Wesley?'
'We have enemy cavalry at the outskirts of the village, my lord. The 33rd has their measure and is keeping them at bay as we withdraw to the bridge.'
'Good.' The general nodded curtly. 'That's good. They're still giving us a pounding with those guns to the south, and their infantry will be ready to assault the village shortly. But we should hold them long enough to complete the crossing.'
'My lord, might I respectfully submit that we blow up the bridge, to prevent any pursuit?'
'It's already in hand.' Lord Moira gestured towards the river and Arthur could see a handful of engineers stacking kegs of gunpowder on the buttress beneath the middle span of the bridge.
'They'll be ready soon.We'll fire the charges the moment your men are across.'
'Very well, sir.'
'Well, no time to waste, Wesley. Return to your men and start falling back.'
Arthur saluted and turned his horse.
'Quick as you can, Wesley!' the general called after him.
Riding swiftly past the leading companies of the 33rd, Arthur drew up by the rearguard. A short distance beyond them, the French hussars had abandoned their horses and were fighting like skirmishers, darting from house to house to fire on the retreating ranks of redcoats. Fitzroy had given permission for the men to fire at will and the air was alive with the fizz and thud of small-arms fire. Arthur dismounted and beckoned to Fitzroy.
'Take my horse and get to the bridge. I want every company but this in the buildings on the other side of the Anhelm.They're to provide covering fire when we reach the market square. Got that?'
Fitzroy nodded.
'Then go.' Arthur turned back to his rearguard, looked past them to the French hussars ducking round corners to quickly fire their pieces before disappearing back to reload; though not so quick that they didn't draw answering shots from the British line. As he watched, one of the hussars broke cover and sprinted diagonally across the street. He nearly made the far side when he suddenly jerked to a stop and was flung on his back as some of Arthur's men found their target. Arthur nodded with grim satisfaction that this example would help discourage the hussars from pursuing the redcoats too enthusiastically. There was no need to keep the company formed up in the face of the limited threat posed by these hussars.
'Break ranks and pull back!'
The soldiers at once moved to the sides of the street, firing and reloading from cover as they steadily gave ground to the enemy. Arthur, trying hard not to show fear, forced himself to remain in clear view as he strode steadily back towards the bridge. As they reached the market square he ordered his men to halt. The engineers were still preparing the charges and the last of the wagons was squeezing across the narrow span. A handful of men from one of the other regiments was defending the southern approaches to the market square and every so often there was a sharp crash and clatter of falling roof tiles as the French battery outside Ondrecht continued to lob shots into the heart of the village. On the other side of the river Arthur could make out the black hats and red jackets of his men taking up position in the houses that lined the far bank. As soon as the last wagon rumbled down into the street beyond the bridge Arthur turned back to his men.