Date: Sat, 2 Jul 2016 00:37:12 +1200
From: arthur carkeek <artcart65@gmail.com>
Subject: drummer boy chpt 11

DRUMMER BOY
CHAPTER 11
BY
ARTHUR

CONTACT AUTHOR:
artcart65@gmail.com


Thomas looked out on the scene of the massacre; there was little doubt it
could be called anything but a massacre. The anger and fury of both the
Portuguese and Spanish boys was only supplemented by his own boys when it
came to wanting revenge on the French.

Had it been a time of normal battle; the excesses shown by the boys may not
have occurred but; with the stories they had heard from the young boys and
teens of Abrantes; there was little to stop them from finishing the fight
then and there.

Deep inside Thomas knew it was wrong to have also killed off the wounded
but there was also something even deeper that told him to let the boys have
their way; if only for this one time.

It was at this time that Thomas realised for the first time that he was
becoming harder and perhaps a little inured to the ravages of this war with
France. Was he; like Percy had said; becoming no better than the French?

Thomas watched as his small army went about collecting every weapon as well
as the jackets of the French troops; he had thought of a plan for those
jackets. Thomas saw his friend Carmelo coming towards him; beside his
friend were Carlito and Sergio; they were carrying a small wooden chest
between them as they followed Carmelo.

Thomas took note that his friend Carmelo was not moving as freely as he
usually did; had he been wounded in the fight?

There was also now a time to find out the cost of the battle as he saw
Sergeant Perrin working his way towards where Thomas was standing.

Carmelo was soon standing before Thomas with a wide smile on his face;
Thomas's first concern for his friend was the possible injury he seemed to
be carrying.

"Carmelo, I have been so worried about you. Are you wounded; do you need
help?"

"Ah my Patron, I am well; the wound is nothing; just a small stab with a
very small French dagger; tomorrow it will be fine and I will walk without
problems."

"What was in the chest Carmelo?"

"Oh that Patron? It is my reward; it is what the French promised me if I
brought the great El Toro into their hands, this I accomplished so the
reward is mine. Of course Patron; as I am just a servant of the Great El
Toro then the reward truly belongs to him."

"Carmelo, what did you do?"

"Patron I did what was needed for El Toro to win the battle. Is it the
fault of mine that the French were so afraid of El Toro that they ran away
and forgot my reward that was sitting under their bed? It is the spoils of
war Patron and they will not miss such a paltry sum."

"How much is it Carmelo?"

"Oh not much Patron; a paltry 10,000 ducats; a just reward for all the
Patron's hard fighting."

"10,000 ducats! That's...that's...well I don't know what to say or do."

"Say nothing and do nothing Patron; it is justly yours by right of
battle. Now then Patron; what do you wish Carmelo to do with all those
French jackets; we also now have many fine horses and more than enough
muskets for every boy in your great army. There is also the matter of some
new boys that need the help of the great El Toro."

"I think we should just pack everything we can carry and make for Guarda;
we will talk this all over more when we are back in the safety of our
camp."

"I will get them all moving. The new boys will need some clothes and food;
they have not had an easy time under the French yoke."

"Get them anything they need Carmelo but the clothes will have to wait
until we are back at camp."

"Yes Patron; it shall be as you ask."

Carmelo left Thomas alone as he went off to see that everything would be
ready for them to move; as he moved away, Thomas saw Sergeant Perrin
waiting for him.

"Where's Clement? Is he alright?"

"Yes Mister Marking, but he does have a hole in one ear; he forgot to duck
once again; one of the boys is putting a small bandage on it for him."

"Did we lose many?"

"Yes, a few. There are four of the new drummers and two of the originals
dead and sixteen others with minor wounds but all are able to travel; there
is also one of the young boys from the town lost; he was alone and cornered
by three Frenchmen; he lit his bomba and waited for the three to come
close. Unfortunately they used their bayonets on him and he dropped the
bomba and killed all three of them but at the cost of his own life."

"Lay him with our own losses; we will bury him with honours just like ours;
it is the least we can do for his bravery."

"Very good Mister Marking, some of the boys are digging the graves now;
they will be ready in half an hour. Mister Marking, we don't have anyone to
say words over them?"

"There must be someone that can do it; I have no idea what to say."

"I'll ask around; perhaps one of the recruits knows what to say; there's a
number of them that is Welsh; those boys are a bit religious like."

"Thank you Perrin; see what you can do."

It was almost an hour before everything was packed and ready to
move. Thomas called everyone to where the graves had been dug back from the
side of the road. Each small grave had a rough cross stuck in the
ground. Thomas saw that each cross except one had been adorned with the now
familiar red and gold sash that was the mark of El Toro's guerrillas.

Thomas looked at the other grave; beside it was the wrapped small figure of
the boy who had sacrificed himself to kill the three Frenchmen. Thomas
looked at the wrapped body and then walked to the bare cross above the
grave.

There was a sudden silence as every boy there watched their leader untie
his own sash and place it around the cross of the Portuguese boy; for
Thomas the boy was to be treated like a hero and deserved to be recognised
as one of their own.

Four boys took the rope that was underneath each of the bodies and; to the
solemn words spoken by one of the recruits in a lilting voice that Thomas
recognised as similar to Private Jones; the seven small wrapped bodies were
lowered slowly into the fresh ground.

Thomas was not looking forward to having to write his report; not only
because of the deaths of young friends but because he found it a long and
tedious job; his writing skills had not improved with his promotions.

Thomas was woken from his thoughts by the lilting sound of the boy who had
performed the service.

"Excuse me Sir. Do you wish for the names of the dead to be taken?"

"Ahm...yes, can you take them for me; you can read and write I hope?"

"Yes Sir, my mum was a school teacher and my Da is the Minister for our
Parish. I have been well taught to read and write Sir."

"Good, then you are just the person I have been looking for. As of now you
are promoted to Drum Corporal and will now be my clerk. Get your kit and
stay with me as we move back to Guarda; once there I will tell you what I
need."

"Yes Sir."

The recruit turned to walk back to get his kit when Thomas called out to
him once again.

"Corporal?"

"Yes Sir?"

"What's your name?"

"Jones Sir.'

Thomas looked and then just nodded his head; what was it with the Welsh, so
far he had met only two of them personally and both were named Jones; he
shuddered at the thought of asking any of the others what their names were.

It took another twenty minutes before everyone was lined up for the return
march. The newly captured horses were used as pack horse for their
return. It would be far faster and they would not have to leave anything
behind for the enemy if they came looking for the missing men; as doubtful
as that could be.

It took his small army four days to make the new camp at Guarda. The few
men of the colour guard were the only ones there to greet them.

For the next five days, the camp was both busy and quiet; everyone moved as
though walking on broken glass; the memories of those they had lost were
still too fresh in their young minds.

On the sixth day, Thomas found things slowly returning to normal; or as
normal as it could be in these torrid times.

The most important was the clothing of all the new boys who had arrived
with almost nothing; to this end he asked the women of Guarda if they would
sew new clothes for all the waifs and strays. The women took no time in
getting started and it was only a matter of a few days before the boys were
dressed as well as all the others.

Food was a problem with so many numbers. Thomas's little army now numbered
over two hundred; it was time to try to bring the new boys up to the
standard of the originals.

Training was divided among the older boys who now held a rank of some
kind. With the language barrier now a thing of old; everyone worked well
together and the training became easier as the new recruits from Spain and
Portugal became accustomed to the long hard days.

Thomas made little of using the chest of coins for food; the purchase of
sheep, goats or beef was all paid for fairly. Vegetables were also bought
from the many women who had small gardens all around Guarda.

Thomas knew that soon he would be asked to take his small army and attack
south of Talavera to divert French troops from the Generals attack on that
town; he had to have his boys ready; he did not like the thought of losing
more boys to the French muskets.

It had become a normal start and finish to every day for the massed drums
and flutes to perform the Della Guerra; not only was it good practice but
it gave everyone an identity with the meaning of their small force.

Thomas did notice that the Spanish boys who played their flutes often had
different tones; he decided that as soon as he could he would look for
something that would keep the notes all the same. Somewhere in the back of
his mind; Thomas thought he had heard of a flute called a Fyfe; it was an
old military flute; perhaps he could find some at the General's camp when
he next went there. It was to be sooner than he thought.

The very next morning a messenger arrived to tell Thomas to report to the
General's camp as soon as he could get there; it was to be a two day ride
and he was accompanied by Carmelo; who was now moving like normal; the four
Andalucian boys and six of the originals.

All of them mounted on horses for the hurried ride; if the General had
asked for them then it was for a good reason. Now that the French had been
ejected from the main part of Portugal; travel was easier and; although
there were small patrols of French that were more interested in getting
back to their own lines; they could still make trouble if given the
opportunity.

Before he left Guarda; Thomas was told by the messenger that the General
was already on the move and Thomas could expect to find the army somewhere
around Plasencia or even as far as Almaraz depending on what the French may
or may not be doing to slow him down.

Thomas took the chance and rode back towards Sabugal. He then rode through
the pass and on towards Salvatierra where he would cross the Alagon River
and try to catch the army before Almaraz. It was to be a two day ride
before Thomas and his small group saw the signs of the army moving
eastward.

After leaving the Alagon River he began to see signs of small skirmishes
where French patrols had tried to slow the English and Spanish advance;
most of the equipment and bodies still lay where they had fallen.

As the evening began to make itself known on the second day; Thomas led his
small band through the night pickets after being properly identified and
was then guided to where the General had his tents.

Around the tents there was a hive of activity as Thomas and his band
dismounted and let their horse be led away. After looking around, Thomas
told the few originals to find something to eat while he, Carmelo and
Estaban went to see the General.

The English and Spanish camp seemed to cover every foot of space around the
central tents. To Thomas's eyes there had to be over 60,000 troops, cavalry
and artillery units; Talavera was going to be a larger battle than he had
ever seen.

Major Lewis saw Thomas arrive and came out of the largest tent to greet
him; he was also introduced to Carmelo and Estaban before they were ushered
into the busy scene inside the tent.

Thomas and his friends were still dressed as they always had been; he had
not bothered nor thought to change into his British uniform.

At the sight of the young teens; General Wellesley smiled and waved Thomas
over to the large table where the many maps of the area had been laid out
for inspection. Thomas was almost overwhelmed by the amount of gold braid
and high ranking officers gathered around the table.

"Ah...Lieutenant Marking just in time and who do you have with you?"

"These are my friends who I rely on General; they are also something I
would like to discuss with you if it be your pleasure?"

"As soon as we are finished here Lieutenant, we will talk over what you
have in mind. Now then, do you remember General Cuesta and I am sure you
remember General's Martino and Livorno?"

"Yes Sir." Thomas snapped to attention and saluted the three officers
before greeting them each in their own language.

"Now then Lieutenant, before we get into pleasantries; I have a task for
you and your Corps. It's not going to be easy and you may end up losing men
over it. Come over here so you can see the map clearly."

Thomas moved up between the other officers; those English Officers not
familiar with him were loathe to move away to give him space but his
smaller size let him get as close as he needed to be, amid a few grumbles.

"We will be at Almaraz early tomorrow, how long will it take to have your
corps in place at Arzobispo?"

"With everything it will take us about four days General; if we leave
behind our guns we can make it in three."

"I see, well tomorrow is the 18th of July; I plan to be at Talavera no
later than the 26th or 27th; can you be in place by then to harass the
French reinforcements that are in that area?"

"Yes Sir, we will be there even a little earlier if you wish."

"Earlier would be a great help; say, the 25th?"

"Yes Sir, we will attack the French there on the 25th if that is what you
need."

"If you can do that it will ease the pressure on our army and may even stop
them from their skirmishing if they have to turn back and try to stop
you. Now then Lieutenant; how many can you put in the field. I seem to
remember you had 120 Drummers and few servants last time we met."

"We have just over two hundred now General; many of the Portuguese teens
and boys have joined us along with some more Spanish boys."

"Is there anything you need for them?"

"There are a few things we need Sir."

"Good, then get with Major Lewis; he will see that you have the orders for
everything you need. Your little troop of misfits may be the only thing
between us taking Talavera and losing the battle altogether. Major Lewis?"

"Yes Sir?"

"See that the Lieutenant has everything he needs. Now then what did you
want concerning these two boys Lieutenant?"

"This is my friend Carmelo; he has been watching over the Portuguese boys
and helping in many other ways. This is Estaban who has led the Spanish
boys and both have been beyond helpful in every endeavour. I would like
permission to have them promoted to the rank of Lieutenant so they can be
recognised for their bravery and duty to our flag, Sir."

General Wellesley turned to the Spanish and Portuguese officers.

"Gentlemen what do you think?"

General Cuesta was the first to speak just as Thomas heard another officer
enter the tent but stay in the background.

"General Wellesley; how could we not agree to El Toro's request; is it not
his work behind the French lines that has brought us to this place today. I
say yes; the boys should have their rank."

Both Livorno and Martino nodded in agreement.

"Then General Cuesta, as they are your people, perhaps you will do the
honours."

General Cuesta smiled and then turned to Estaban.

"I will need your full name young man?" General Cuesta spoke in Spanish and
Thomas watched as Estaban straightened up as though on parade.

"I am Estaban Colosio of Andalucia, General."

"Colosio? Are you the son of Don Manuel Colosio? The breeder of the finest
fighting bulls in Andalucia?"

"Yes General."

Thomas saw the blush on Estaban's face; it was the first time he had seen
any reaction of this kind on the older teens face.

"Then Estaban Colosio; with the authority vested in me I promote you to
Lieutenant in the Spanish army. Your first orders are that you will
consider yourself transferred to the army of the Patron El Toro for the
duration of the war."

"Thank you Sir; I swear I will not let the people of Spain down."

"I am sure you won't Lieutenant. Now then." The General turned to look at
Carmelo.

"You are Carmelo...?"

There was a sudden silence in the tent as everyone watched Carmelo become
very agitated as he looked around for some kind of help. From the back of
the crowd of officers came a familiar voice to Thomas.

"Sharpe Senor General; his name is Carmelo Sharpe; he is my son."

The tent was totally silent as Carmelo's father was revealed for all to
see; now Thomas began to understand the looks between the two when they met
and why Sharpe and O'Malley were always around and concerned with their
welfare.

The General gave Sharpe a small bow and a smile then turned back to
Carmelo.

"Carmelo Sharpe; with the authority vested in me I hereby promote you to
the rank of Lieutenant in the Spanish army. Your first orders are the same
as Lieutenant Colosio and I hope you will continue to assist the Patron El
Toro in the defeat of the French invaders."

Thomas could see the bright blush on Carmelo's face as he replied to the
General.

"Thank you General Cuesta, I shall do all I can for the Patron as he has
done for us."

General Wellesley smiled as he looked around the officers in the tent; that
Captain Sharpe had admitted to having a son that no one knew about; even
though all knew he had had a Spanish wife before the war; it was still a
shock for most.

"Now Lieutenant Marking; is there anything else we can do for you?"

"Yes Sir if it pleases you."

"And that is?"

"I would like to fly both the Andalucian flag and the Portuguese flag with
our battle colours Sir. Added to that I would like to recommend that
Midshipman Scully be also promoted to Lieutenant; his knowledge of cannon
and tactics has been invaluable for us."

"I thought you already had your flag Lieutenant?"

"That is our battle flag Sir; as we have many new additions from both Spain
and Portugal in our corps, I would like your permission to fly their
colours."

"Permission granted Lieutenant."

"Thank you Sir."

"Now as far as the Midshipman goes, I will notify the Navy but I think you
can tell him with assurity about his promotion when you get back to
camp. Is there anything else Lieutenant?"

"No Sir, if I may be dismissed I will get started on moving the corps to
attack Arzobispo."

"You are dismissed Lieutenant; and good luck we are relying on your
support."

Thomas saluted the assembled officers and; along with his two friends, left
the tent to find the others and leave in all haste for the others waiting
at Guarda. Before he could leave he had to get with Major Lewis and
finalise needed supplies. Thomas hoped he could find a wagon or two for the
extra equipment he would need for such a large scale attack on Arzobispo.

The procurement of a wagon proved far easier than he thought it would
be. It also amused Thomas that some of Mister Sharpe's sharp tongue seemed
to have rubbed off on him when he gave his demands to the same
Quartermaster Sergeant for his wagon and supplies.

It was after midnight when Thomas left the newly promoted Lieutenant
Estaban along with four of the originals to bring the heavily loaded wagon
with their supplies of powder, shot and weapons for his small army.

Thomas led the others out of the main camp at a fast trot; he hoped to be
able to ride hard until they made the camp at Guarda before noon on the
second day.

With luck, Thomas hoped he would have his boys ready to move by the time
the new wagon arrived at the place he had sighted for the new camp outside
Arzobispo. He saw it as a waste of effort to have the wagon travel all the
way back to Guarda just to be turned around and back to the new camp site.

By the morning of the 22nd July; Thomas had all his boys ready at the new
camp; as they all planned for the attacks on Arzobispo; he sent out a
number of the younger boys to infiltrate the town and then report back to
him before the 25th July.  His final plans would then be made and they
would start their rolling attacks on the supply trains and troops.

Dawn 22nd July Arzobispo.

In the town of Arzobispo the morning call to arms echoed throughout the
town. The French troops grumbled and groaned at the start of another day on
the road. Arzobispo had become the staging area for the reinforcements sent
by Marshal Soult to defend Talavera; that the English and its allies were
going to attack at that point there was little doubt.

Marshal Soult was well to the South East and so had to leave the battle up
to General Joseph until he could make the march to help them; it would
place him late at the battlefield and he could only pray they would not
start any attacks before his arrival on the 30th.

The awakening troops rose to the sound of a young boy playing a flute as he
sat in his rags at the centre of the town square. It was a normal sight in
many of the defeated towns of Spain. The young boys were often seen in the
towns and were mainly ignored; waifs and strays were just another part of
war.

The young boy sat near the dry fountain as he played his mournful tune. His
face was dirty and his bare feet were in broken sandals; there was an air
of desperation on the young face as he played. At the boys dirty feet sat a
battered tin bowl to collect any odd coins or food thrown his way.

Near the old stone gateway leading into the town sat another dirty boy; he
was singing in his young voice but the effort was plain to see as he asked
for charity; his grime laden hands held out in supplication at the passing
soldiers and the odd townsfolk.

Among the soldiers lines was another boy; he did not look in as bad a shape
as the others and his obviously Gypsy heritage showed through his slightly
dirty clothing. The Gypsy went among the soldiers tents doing small tricks
with balls and skittles as he gathered a few coins for his meal; many of
the soldiers were amused at the performance and continued to encourage the
boy to do better as they threw a copper coin at his feet.

There was a light heartedness in the camp as the soldiers of France readied
for another days hard marching; the boys and their entertainment helped
with the soldiers moral and so the Officers let the boys be as they
performed their games.

Not all of the soldiers appreciated the entertainment and the two boys
inside the town had to suffer small abuses as some of the more angry
soldiers lashed out with a boot or open hand at the waifs.

For three days the soldiers and reinforcements travelled through Arzobispo;
each unit staying overnight and then moving on. The three waifs were lucky
enough to make a few coins to keep them in food even at the cost of a few
bruises or derisive comments from the French.

19th July; Almaraz.

General Wellesley called for his officers. He had decided to leave the easy
march on the main road and bypass Arzobispo to the north. It would mean a
harder march over the plains and small tracks but would avoid the incoming
reinforcements of the French; it would also mean he would not be in sight
of Talavera before the 26th of July but he wanted to leave Arzobispo to the
machinations of his little guerrilla army and the inventive hands of the
young Lieutenant.

It took less than half an hour to issue his change to the marching orders;
there were surprised looks on the Officers faces as they heard the new
orders.

25th July West of Arzobispo.

Thomas sat with the newly washed and fed boys that had returned from
Arzobispo. As they each gave their report while eating the first real meal
in three days; Thomas began to put together a plan to cause problems for
the reinforcements heading towards Talavera.

By late afternoon; Thomas and his newly promoted Officers sat around the
large table in front of his tent as they went over the small boy's reports
and marked places on the rough map they had of the area.

It was finally decided that Thomas, Estaban, Carmelo and Scully would all
go and see for themselves what they would be facing and if they could make
a better plan.

At first light on the 26th; Thomas and his friends looked down on the town
of Arzobispo and the hive of activity as the next reinforcements of the
French got ready to move north to Talavera.

There seemed to be an air of urgency in the French troop's
movements. Thomas knew they were close to the time of the battle and was
looking for a way to disrupt their line of supply. As they were about to
return to their own camp in the late afternoon hours; Thomas saw a small
unit of artillery arrive at the edges of the town; there was also the usual
large contingents of troops but the artillery seemed to want to stay just
out of the town on their own.

Thomas called for his friends to wait as he watched the artillery troop
settle down for their rest; something deep in the back of Thomas's mind
stirred as he looked at the troop of artillery; turning to Lieutenant
Scully, he asked.

"Could you use those if we could get them?"

"A gun is a gun Mister Marking; you get them I will use them."

Thomas nodded and then told his friends to pull back and return to camp; he
would tell them what he was thinking once they were safe from prying eyes.

As darkness fell; Thomas gave the order to set out. Carmelo was to lead
twenty of the younger Spanish and Portuguese boys in a silent raid on the
artillery unit. Sergeant Lorenco took his small group of Sharpshooters off
to the east of Arzobispo where they would set up to disrupt the pickets of
the infantry units.

Thomas led a group of thirty drummers off to the South where they would
also work on disrupting the sleep of the troops by using their drums to
keep the soldiers awake most of the night with their incessant playing.

The remainder of his small force would stay in the camp to break it down
and prepare for the next day which would be the final part of his plan if
the night force was able to fulfil its objectives.

Inside Arzobispo the night became a time the soldiers of Napoleon hoped
they would never have again. To the South of the town there came an
incessant drumming that disturbed the sleep of most of the
troops. Skirmishers were sent out into the night to find and destroy the
drummers but; not only did the drums not stop, but many of the skirmishers
never returned to report what had happened.

To the East, those troops on picket duty came under fire from the dark;
every time a troop was sent to find them; the shooting would come from
somewhere else and the troops would have to be recalled and then sent out
in another direction only to have other pickets shot from another place.

As the troops grew more tired from the continual attacks and loss of sleep;
tempers grew shorter and small fights started in the lines. When told to go
on picket duty, some of the troops flatly refused and caused even more
problems for their Officers.

When dawn finally broke and the random attacks ceased; the French Officer
and troops were only too glad to leave the town of Arzobispo; it had been a
nightmare and the losses turned out to be far more than at first thought.

The Captain in charge of the small unit of artillery found he had lost
seven men to the night raiders. His pickets had had their throats cut in a
most brutal of ways but that was not all he had to contend with.

When he was called to form up his gunners by the Senior Officer; he was to
find his guns and equipment had been sabotaged by unknown invaders. When
his men went to hitch the horses to the gun carriages, they found broken
and missing tack.

Pins had been removed from axels; leather traces had been cut or were
missing altogether. Towing hitches for the carriages had been taken and
others had been damaged and yet not a sound had been heard by any of the
artillerymen as they tried to sleep through the continuous drumming of the
night.

The Captain had to report to the Colonel that they would be late as they
had to repair or replace equipment. The Captain told the Colonel he would
not be ready to move before midday but would drive his men hard to catch up
as soon as he could.

The Colonel was now in such a furious state of mind he left with a sharp
retort to make sure the artillery was at Talavera before mid afternoon; it
would be sorely needed by then.

Two hours later and the Captain was beginning to see the end of his
troubles; most pieces had been repaired or replaced and he was almost ready
to form up his troop and leave for the heights of Talavera; another hour
and they would be underway.

Unknown to the artillery unit; every move was being watched by two hundred
pairs of young but hidden eyes. As the sun rose almost to its zenith; the
Captain gave the order to form the guns for travel. The horses were brought
forward and they began to attach them to the guns and carriages in
readiness for their move forward.

It was during a lull in the noise of preparation that the artillery troops
first heard what they thought were the distant rumbles of heavy guns; it
was either that or thunder coming from a clear sky; it boded ill that the
battle of Talavera seemed to have already started and the unit was still
trapped in Arzobispo.

Urgency became the order of the day as the men were pushed hard to get
their guns hooked up and the horses ready to move. The Captain rode along
his unit of artillery on a last inspection. Each gun carriage was hooked up
and the six horses were ready to move towards the battle.

The Captain was a little upset that not all of his gunners were there as
those who had been lost on picket duty meant there were gaps on either the
horses or the carriages; some of the guns would have to be worked with a
man short.

As he was about to give the order to advance; the Captain looked down the
open road in front of him; his mouth stayed open as he saw what appeared to
be a solitary small figure standing not fifty paces in front of him.

The young man stood alone but with a certain confidence as he looked at the
long train of ten guns; he carried a short musket in his hands and it was
directed towards the Captain. As the Captain only carried a pair of horse
pistols he knew he was outranged and his own troops carried no arms at all
except for their sabres.

The Captain gave thought to charge the small figure and ride him down until
he heard a shout from behind from his men mounted on the horses and
carriages.

Turning around in his saddle; the Captain looked behind; what he saw
brought a sudden shiver down his spine. On both sides of the road and
aiming muskets at his virtually unarmed men stood over two hundred armed
rebels all with their muskets aimed directly at his men.

The Captains shoulders slumped as he saw what was facing him; yes he could
play the hero and charge forward into certain death but he was not that
foolhardy; he and his men were outgunned and outnumbered. The Captain
lifted his hands in surrender; he was not to see the battle of Talavera.

The Captain carefully lifted his pistols and dropped them on the road as
the young figure walked towards him; another boy joined the young man and
called in very rough French.

"Captain, if you would get off your horse and surrender your guns you will
all be made prisoners and not harmed; refuse and you will all die here and
now."

The Captain had come to the decision well before the demand and carefully
dismounted and stood with his hands held high before calling for his men to
do the same.

Thomas and Carmelo strode up to the Captain and Carmelo continued the
conversation.

"Captain you are now the captive of El Toro; he will abide by the rules of
war if you and your men will disrobe your uniforms and then we will leave
you in the capable hands of the towns people of Arzobispo. El Toro has left
instruction with the people that you are to be treated well as long as you
do not try to escape."

The Captain; although not sure why the young men and boys wanted their
uniforms; never the less gave the order much to the embarrassment of many
of the gunners.

With the troops standing in only their under clothes; Thomas soon had their
hands tied and they were led back towards the centre of town where they
would be held by the townspeople; it was now time to set the rest of his
plan in action.

Lorenco had each horse mounted by a boy and three more sitting on the top
of the gun carriages; they were all dressed in the uniforms of the French
gunners; one of Lieutenant Scully's boys was on each of the carriages; they
would see that the other less experienced boys would set up the guns when
needed.

From the hidden pack horses that were brought out of hiding; Thomas gave
the order for the rest of his small army to change their attire; they would
all run in their normal pace with the guns towards Talavera; with luck they
would be there early the following morning.

Thomas hoped they would be in time; the distant sound of battle had raged
on as they took the artillery from the French and could still be heard
faintly in the distance.

The pace of the horses was kept down to that of the boys on foot although
that was a far better pace than most troops would have been able to keep up
for the distance they had to travel to the battle.

As the sun sank on the first day of the battle of Talavera; the ten guns
were still a short way off but Thomas called for them to find a good place
to camp for the night; they were a lot closer to the battle site now and
could hear a lessening of the fire although there were still sporadic shots
fired as pickets and skirmishers continued to snipe at their opposition in
the dark.

In a strange way Thomas was thankful that the battle was still going and
yet he felt a deep fear of what he was leading his boys into on the
following morning; he only hoped his devious plan would be of some effect
for the English army as they battled the mass of French still holding the
heights outside Talavera.

Thomas set this own pickets; he did not think they were in any immediate
danger but it was better to be safe than sorry. It was a long night and
most of the time was spent by Lieutenant Scully to train the boys he would
have to use on the guns as to their workings; it was not ideal and more
training was really needed but Scully hoped the boys enthusiasm may make up
for their lack of skill.

As dawn broke on the 28th July; Thomas lay behind cover with his young
Officers to look down onto the battle field; even after the men who worked
as surgeons and helpers had cleared away most of the bodies of the dead and
wounded; the field still looked bad. It was very obvious the battle on the
previous day had been brutal and bloody.

Thomas was out to the left and rear flank east of the English positions. To
his front he could see the French army holding the heights to the east of
Talavera where the English held the heights to the west and south.

It appeared that General Wellesley had taken his usual stance as a
defensive position; his army had been in some very hard fighting as the
more than 70,000 French had charged his lines but the General's lines had
held but with great losses.

The French had a large advantage on the left flank of the English lines
where as the centre and right flank were almost identical but had also seen
most of the previous day's fighting and losses.

As Thomas watched in the strengthening light; he saw what looked to be a
number of large forces gathering well to the left of the General's position
but out of sight of the English forces.

Thomas had seen enough; it was time to change his original plan of giving
the guns to the General and take a chance on his own. Thomas left the
heights and made his way back to where his little force waited for
him. Breakfast had been hurried and everyone was waiting for him to return.

As Thomas ate his own sparse breakfast; he reported what he had seen and
his revised plan; while there were a few doubtful looks not a single boy
wanted to be anywhere else on that fateful day.

Thomas had Jones write a short message and then called for Diego; once the
boy mounted his white Andalucian he left at a gallop. Estaban had a number
of boys quickly unload the long train of pack mules and then started to
reload them with new items; once done he sent Estaban off at a fast pace
towards the English lines with ten loaded mules and a number of the boys.

Lieutenant Scully was busy with more of the boys at the guns; he only hoped
they had learnt enough on their quick lessons the night before. After
checking his unit he gave the order to move out and the rattle of the ten
guns was heard as Thomas watched the remainder getting ready.

Once the last of his little army was as ready as they would ever be; Thomas
took the lead and led them towards where he hoped they would do the most
good.

Thomas's boys had only been moving for a little over half an hour when they
heard the large guns of both the French and the English open up on the
morning of the second day of the battle of Talavera; he prayed they would
not be too late to help and that his plan would prove to be of some use.

28th July Talavera heights; English lines.

The Officers of England were all assembled as the first guns opened up on
the French lines; they were quickly answered by the French and the second
day of the battle commenced with the roar and smoke of the cannons.

The Senior Officers looked out over the plains below. There were still many
bodies lying on the plain after the slaughter of the first day and there
would be many more by the end of this one.

The main concentration of the French was to the front; the bulk of their
troops were assembled in solid formations as they got ready to advance
across the plain when the guns had done their job of softening the English
lines.

Far to the right of the English lines were the Spanish; they were tasked
with holding the line into Talavera and the French were using only one
brigade under Sebastiani's orders; far to the rear was Joseph as he held
his last reserves at Casa De Salinas.

The main thrust was again against the English at the centre; the French
knew that, if they could break the English lines then the Spanish would
collapse and they would have a victory and take Talavera for its vital
position on the river Targus.

Orders were sent out by Joseph for General Ruffin to send a couple of
brigades to the far left flank of the English lines and attack there; with
luck they would roll up the English left flank and take the day.

Ruffin had his heavy guns mounted high on the Cerro De Cascajal; to his
east were the main lines of General Victor who held most of the troops that
would attack the English centre.

While his guns fired on the English front; Ruffin sent a brigade of nearly
three thousand men far off to the right; they would cross the small river
of Portina and then form up on the northern plain to attack the undefended
left flank of the English almost unopposed.

On the heights of Cerro De Medellin; Wellesley watch his guns return fire;
deep inside he had a feeling this day would decide it all. Wellesley had
been given reports that Marshal Soult was coming from the south east and he
needed to finish this battle before the heavy reinforcements arrived.

Wellesley was now committed to his path; everything he had was holding the
centre and his reserves had been used to plug the holes from the losses of
the previous day. A small shudder went through Wellesley as he realised
that; if the French called up more reinforcements he would be down to using
cooks and clerks to hold his lines.

Wellesley had sent a message to Cuesta in the hope he could use some of his
men to hold the centre; as yet he had had no reply; the attacks on the
right flank where the Spanish held were far lighter and Wellesley could see
no reason why Cuesta did not send men.

Major Lewis was looking out over the entire field with his spy glass when
he caught a faint movement to the far left; it was a white horse with a
rider galloping as though the devil himself was after him. The horse was
coming directly towards them and from the south and east.

Major Lewis quickly recognised the white horse; it could only be one of
Lieutenant Marking's boys. Major Lewis quickly pointed the rider out to the
stern looking General Wellesley. One glance and Wellesley shouted to his
colour guard.

"Colour Sergeant; when that rider gets here let him trough without
hindrance."

The Sergeant snapped to attention and saluted as he called back.

"Yes Sir."

As the rider drew closer, it was plain to see he was from Lieutenant
Marking; the Spanish dress was topped off with the usual boot knife and
musket over the back; the young rider also had a large pistol tucked into
his red and gold waits sash; his flat black hat was lying on his back and
held by the chin strap as it bounced in the wind of the horses fast pace.

The Sergeant waved the young rider through as the Generals watched. The
horse came to a sudden halt as it almost sat on its haunches to stop from
ploughing directly into the group of waiting officer.

The rider was dismounted while the horse was still moving and the boy's
short legs were at pace as he came towards the officers loudly yelling in
Spanish.

Major Lewis; who had now learnt a little of the language was able to put
enough together to translate for the other Officers.

"General; his name is Diego and he is asking for you and has a message from
the Lieutenant."

General Wellesley nodded and called for the boy as he held out his hand for
the message the boy was waving.

Wellesley took the rough paper and thanked the young teen. Diego bowed his
thanks and turned back towards his panting horse; he had to get back to
help his Patron and had been told not to wait for an answer.

Before Wellesley even got to open the message the Teen was again galloping
out of the camp and towards some far off place to their east.

Wellesley quickly opened and read the message; for the first time any of
the Officers could remember; they saw the General pale as he read the
message. After taking a deep breath, Wellesley turned to Major Lewis.

"Major; what do we have in reserve?"

"Nothing Sir unless you count the cooks and scullery boys."

Wellesley held his breath as he began to look at what options he might
have; there seemed to be very few; for the first time in his life Wellesley
had the faintest of doubts as to holding his position at Talavera.

Wellesley's officers waited patiently as the General ran through his
options; as few as they were; with a final deep sigh; Wellesley began to
give orders; he only hoped it would be enough.

"Major Lewis?"

"Yes Sir?"

"Take the colour guard and scour the camp for every man and boy; I don't
care if they are cooks, scullery boys, clerks or boot cleaners. Get them a
jacket, musket, powder and ball and take them to cover the left flank. Use
whatever means you need to get them there. If there are any dissenters then
shoot them but I want every man and boy on that line. You can also check
the infirmary for any wounded that can still fight. God help us it may even
then not be enough but you must do your best Major.

Major Lewis saluted and ran off as he called the full colour guard to
him. Wellesley watched as Major Lewis, along with the full colour guard
turned back towards the camp area just behind the front lines. Wellesley
turned back to the front; taking his long spy glass out he began to scan
the area he had been told was where the French would appear from.

It was not long before Wellesley's worst fears were realised. In the
distance he saw the beginning of the French build up for the attack on his
left flank. Wellesley even gulped as he saw the numbers building; his
doubts on holding the left were now in serious doubt as the blue coats of
the French continued to fill the far northern end of the plain on his left.

Major Lewis and the colour guard spent little time rounding up every able
bodied man or boy; even the overweight Quartermaster was pressed into
service; much to his dislike and fear; he had not signed up to actually
fight a battle; his job was to count buttons and balls.

Wellesley watched as his rag tag army of boys and men began to form up on
his far left under the heavy hands of the Colour Sergeant and the pistol
filled hand of Major Lewis; it was going to be a very thin red line that
tried to hold back the thousands of French soldiers who were now forming up
shoulder to shoulder in readiness for the advance on the weakened left of
the English.

Below and to his front; Wellesley saw the centre was again under heavy
attack. The plain was now covered in a thick mist of powder smoke and the
cries of the wounded could be heard even above the crash of guns and
muskets.

Wellesley looked back to his left; this time what he saw almost made him
bow his head; it seemed Talavera was not to be his; it would be a fateful
day and he did not like the look of how it was going to be once the left
was rolled up.

It was a strange quirk of battle that; far on the left Wellesley heard the
faint shouts of glee from the French lines as a sight that sent chills down
the General's spine; his spy glass shook as he watched new arrivals on the
left; it seemed the esteemed Lieutenant had not been able to halt the
reinforcements from Arzobispo; his left was now in dire trouble.

Wellesley watched as a troop of ten French artillery took up station on a
rise that overlooked his left flank and the plains below.

Wellesley watched as the twenty pound guns were raced into position; there
was something strange so he watched even closer. That the artillery was
French there was no denying

The blue and white jackets along with the feathered shako's soon proved
that, but it was the way the gunners were performing that gave the General
a little hope. Gone was the usual precision of French artillery; the guns
and horses were just not quite up to the mark of the French.

As Wellesley watched it suddenly came to him; the French were scraping the
bottom of the barrel; they had put raw recruits into the battle as a last
effort; it was the only answer he could come up with as he watched the ten
guns being set up in line on top of the rise.

Although the gunners were raw recruits; there was little doubt they would
make a real problem for his thin red line of defenders and he had nothing
to counter them; his men would have to take it and do the best they
could. The battle for the centre was now so hard that he could not even
pull a single cavalry troop from its place; the day was on a knife edge and
he was still looking at the collapse of his left flank.

As he watched; Wellesley saw something else that gave him pause. Just
appearing from the direction of Arzobispo came another French force; they
were moving at a forced march towards where the guns were now almost set
up. His heart began to sink as he watched the new arrivals disappear behind
the rise where the guns now stood.

Wellesley could now only watch and pray; far across the northern plain the
French were now formed up and ready for the advance at the thin line of red
coats holding the English left. It must have seemed futile that the English
would try to hold a flank with no more than a few hundred men against the
might of two full Brigades of seasoned French troops; but theirs was not to
reason why; they were there to teach the arrogant English what it was to
face off against the best of the French army.

The troops were lined up shoulder to shoulder as normal; their solid ranks
would soon march right over the thin red line they could see holding the
rise in the distance; that they now had the added help of their gunners was
even better; it would be an easy slaughter and a great win for the Emperors
armies.

As Wellesley watched and hoped for the best; one of his Colonel's called to
him and then pointed to the left flank where the Major had set his thin red
line.

"Sir, look; just behind our line."

Wellesley turned and lowered his glass as he looked along the left. Just
appearing around the end of the ridge he saw a mass of riders pushing pack
mules at a fast pace towards the Major's line; the sight of at least four
white horses gave him cause to take a deep breath; the Lieutenant had not
forgotten them.

As he watched, General Wellesley could not believe his eyes; the forty or
so riders were pulling up next to the Major where he stood at the far left
of his thin line of defenders. One of the riders jumped from his horse and
saluted the Major before speaking and then he turned back to his large
group and began to give orders.

Behind Wellesley he could hear the voices of his own Officers as they tried
to work out what was going on; for Wellesley it was of little doubt; the
Lieutenant had sent help even though it seemed to be small in number he
could only hope the boy had something else up his sleeve or they were truly
lost.

Wellesley's eyebrows shot up as he watched the newcomers begin to unload
the mules. After unloading one mule near the Major; it and another set off
for the far right flank and stopped to unload there; it was not long before
there was a hum of chatter as the group of Officers watched two small brass
cannon being set up at each end of the line.

Other mules had been taken to the front of the line and were now spread out
along the front; as each mule was unloaded of its burden; the Officers
watched as three teens began to set up swivel guns evenly spaced along the
front.

Next they were to see six young looking men take positions further to the
front in a skirmish line; it was obvious they were sharpshooters and would
target the French Officers and Senior NCO's.

Wellesley sighed; it was not a lot but they would certainly do damage to
the now advancing French lines. The French were now at the centre of the
plain; it would be only a matter of time before they reached the lines and
the fighting would begin. Why the artillery had not yet opened up on his
men he could not understand; perhaps it was just the inexperience of the
raw recruits that slowed them down but he held little hope once they did
start to fire on his lines.



TBC.