Chapter 15

Austerlitz, 2 December 1805

At four in the morning the officers and sergeants of the Grand Army began to rouse their men. Most of the campfires had died down but there was still enough light from the glowing embers for the soldiers to pull on their boots, adjust their uniforms and prepare their weapons for the coming battle. It had been a bitterly cold night and a thick mist had risen from the Goldbach stream which now blanketed the land on either side, so that the French troops were all but invisible to their enemy up on the Pratzen Heights. The celebratory mood over the Emperor’s first anniversary had given way to a quiet contemplation of what was to come. The veterans, for the most part, went about their preparations with a fatalistic calm.The younger and more inexperienced soldiers either were anxious and filled with dread of being wounded or were full of bravado and spoke with a cheery loudness that fooled no one except themselves.

To the south of the Zurlan hill lay the vast sprawl of Murat’s cavalry lines where the troopers were carefully saddling their mounts, checking every strap and buckle to ensure they would be well seated if they needed to charge.The cuirassiers helped each other into their polished chest and back plates before pulling on their helmets with their flowing horsehair crests. In other regiments the dragoons, hussars and lancers made ready and then led their horses into line to await the start of the battle.

On the great mound of the Zurlan the artillery crews carried the first charges from the caissons up to the massed batteries, where some guns were trained on the Heights opposite while others were aimed to the south to pour an enfilading fire on the enemy’s attacks across the Goldbach stream. Even though it was still dark there was no doubt about where the strongest concentration of the enemy forces lay. A faint loom across the skyline in the direction of the village of Pratzen revealed their position and the French gunners marvelled at the strength of the forces ranged against them.

Napoleon led his staff up the hill to the command post that had been prepared for him the afternoon before. He had slept in a barn at the foot of the hill on a bed of straw, and had managed to snatch three hours of deep sleep. Like most of his veterans Napoleon had long since developed the knack of quickly falling into a deep sleep when the chance arose. He felt the familiar light ache of excitement mingled with anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Even now, his mind raced over the details of his plan and the disposition of his troops, and there were still doubts in his mind.

If, for any reason, Davout’s corps failed to arrive on the right flank in time to stiffen its defence, then the enemy might turn the flank and roll up the French line. Davout had visited headquarters the previous evening to report and give his word that his men would reach the battlefield in time to play their part.The marshal had looked weary, and no wonder, Napoleon reflected. He and his men had marched over eighty miles from Vienna in two days after receiving Berthier’s summons. The corps would be exhausted, and yet the fate of the Grand Army might well rest on their shoulders.

Then there was the question of the timing of the main attack on the Pratzen Heights. Too soon and the enemy would spot the danger and be able to respond in time to block the thrust.Too late and the French right might be broken and both armies would merely have wheeled round, locked on each other like a pair of battling stags. Napoleon knew that the attack would have to be perfectly timed to achieve its purpose, and the decision when to give the order would depend on how long the weakened centre and right of the French line along the Goldbach could hold its ground. He stared to the right and cursed the heavy mist. It might well be useful to conceal the French positions from the enemy, but it also concealed the men from the eyes of their commander and it was essential that Napoleon knew exactly what was happening along the length of his battle line throughout the coming day.

He turned to Berthier.‘I want regular reports from the commanders, down to brigade level. On the half-hour, understand? Make sure that there are adequate messengers to carry it out.’

‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier added a note in his log and then turned to one of his junior staff officers to pass on the Emperor’s order. As they talked behind him, Napoleon closed his eyes for a moment, and mentally projected a map of the surrounding area in his head. Marshal Lannes was on the left flank, with orders to hold any Austrian attacks. Murat’s cavalry would form up in support of Lannes, and be launched in pursuit of the enemy if things went well. If they didn’t it would be Murat’s responsibility to cover the retreat of whatever was left of the Grand Army.Then there was Bernadotte’s corps, entrusted with the defence of the Zurlan, but ready to exploit any weakness in the enemy line should the opportunity arise. Behind the Zurlan was the Imperial Guard acting as a reserve, and the two divisions of Soult’s corps chosen to lead what should be the decisive attack - if the battle went as planned, Napoleon reminded himself. He allowed himself a wry smile as he recalled something he had heard years before: once a battle began the very first casualty of the day was always the plan. Just one division, commanded by General Legrand, was entrusted with holding back the main weight of the enemy attack along the bank of the Goldbach. Legrand must hold on until Davout’s hard-marching corps arrived on the right flank and could support him.

‘Dawn, sire.’ Berthier drew his Emperor’s attention to the east, where the dull pink orb of the sun was rising over the crest of the Pratzen Heights, picking out the Russian and Austrian troops massing to attack.

‘Very well. Give the order for Soult’s assault columns to cross the stream and form up. Tell Soult to make good use of this mist, and keep his men hidden for as long as possible.’

‘Yes, sire.’

A dull boom echoed across the valley from the direction of Pratzen and the assembled officers turned towards the sound of the signal gun. A moment later there was a sudden detonation of cannonfire away to the right, followed by the faint rattle and pop of muskets.

Napoleon glanced down as he fished his watch out of its fob pocket. ‘Just short of seven o’clock.’

Berthier strained his ears and eyes as he stared towards the right flank of the French line. But the mist and the smoke from the campfires still obscured the view and only the crest of the Heights and the Zurlan itself stood proud of the miasma. Several columns of enemy troops were marching swiftly down the opposite slope into the mist, and more troops could be seen moving from the Russian and Austrian centre to reinforce the attack. Berthier concentrated on the flank again. ‘Looks like they are attacking the village at Tellnitz.’

Napoleon listened for a moment and nodded. ‘Tellnitz. Send someone to find out what’s happening.’

As Napoleon stood waiting, the firing intensified all along the line, and when the first reports came in it was clear that the enemy was indeed mounting a powerful attack on the French right.Within an hour word came that Tellnitz had fallen and the village of Zokolnitz soon followed.