Recollections of a Prolaisian Footsoldier in the Gulf Sea War

Writers note: Okay, this is a weird one. I’ve been reading a lot of soldiers’ diaries from the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars as research for the series largely inspired by those conflicts I hope to start writing in the near future. They have a certain tone, almost universally, that really struck me and that I tried to replicate as much as I could here. Also, I swear I don’t only, or even primarily, write about soldiers, I just happen to have been doing a lot of reading in that direction recently that has influenced my writing. I hesitated to even put this one up given how weird it is, but I challenged myself to have something new on here about once a month and, given how much effort I’ve been putting into my novel, it was either this or nothing this month. The story is about 3,500 words and should take 10-15 minutes to read.

Recollections of a Prolaisian Footsoldier in the Gulf Sea War

An extract from the writings of Musketeer Nicolas Haxo, who served in the 14th (Colonel il’Orton’s) Column of Foot from 3,819-3,826, written in 3,835.

In the 17th year of the reign of Grand Duke Dominique II, the Grand Duchy of Prolais became embroiled in the almighty struggle that had gripped the Gulf Sea for the previous two years. Surely fearing that the Grand Duke’s involvement would risk that of the Lydesi Sahan, I and the rest of Colonel il’Orton’s 14th Column of Foot were moved, along with others, to reinforce the Southern Armies. Such a premonition proved quite correct, as it was not long after that the Lydesi declared themselves to be in a state of war with the relevant parties and marched troops to our land.

                We had, hence, scarcely arrived before we were ordered out to meet the Lydesi. It was assumed by all that we were to fight a defensive action at the mountain passes that dotted our most rugged border with the Lydesi Sahandom.

                Our march was a quick one, but all were in good spirits and did not mind the exercise. We broke camp early and made it late, with little time for eating. Yet, wherever we went, food aplenty was available to us. The Grand Ducal Armies, of course, had enough to supply us. But we were also quite delighted to be presented with bread and cheese and meat as we passed through towns and villages on our way south. Certainly, these provisions were of superior quality to the biscuits and rations of rice that so often filled our bellies on the march. Such foodstuffs will do to keep a man marching – they fill his belly aplenty – but there is no satisfaction in them.

                Rumours abounded as to what kind of army we would face when we arrived. A larger force, that was likely, though it would surely take them some time to cross through the passes. Our commanders seemed in high spirits, which was enough to convince us of the likelihood of success. Organised into the 1st Army, we found ourselves in the vanguard of the Southern Armies and would reach our destination first – as all were eager to do.

                One anecdote that may illustrate the nature of our commanders will be expanded upon. This occurred a few days into our march, early in the morning. My battalion, the 2nd, were marching behind much of the army’s guns and were greatly annoyed when we were stopped by a stationary cannon. I was standing near the front of the marching column and watched with horror as a horse – which had been pulling the cannon – thrashed to and frow while lying on its side. It became clear that the horse had somehow broken its leg and would have to be put out of its misery. Annoyance turned quickly to melancholy. But the army’s artillery commander, one Lieutenant-Colonel Lord Geldrun il’Prolais who, by his name, we all recognised as a member of the blood, did not let us stand and gawp. Instead, rather than allow this event to steal time from our march, he ordered us to come and push and pull the cart ourselves while a new horse was brought up to take over the duty.

                I found myself as one of half a dozen or so with this task and took up a rope with one of my compatriots to pull. This we did for a third of an hour under the encouragement and direction of the lieutenant-colonel. I did not notice how much vigour I had spent in performing the task until it was finished and a horse was finally brought to relieve us, though even that tiredness was quickly abated as the lieutenant-colonel acknowledged each of us who had performed the duty in turn, asking after our names. To think that we were spoken as such by a member of the blood! Indeed, those lucky few of us, though exhausted from the task, stood straighter than our comrades for the rest of the day’s march. This event, I hope, shows how truly inspired we were by our commanders and how eager we were to be at our enemy. I had, at that point, not long been enlisted in the Grand Duke’s service, and had yet to see anything that could be called proper action. This was true for much of my battalion. We were hence eager for combat as only new soldiers can be.

                One day, we made camp at only four o’clock in the afternoon and we cried out to our commanders:

                ‘Why have we stopped? There is still light in the day and we want to be at them.’

                ‘We have stopped for we have arrived,’ they replied. This caused much excitement to ripple through the ranks.

              We made camp outside a small village, the name of which quite escapes me, and were treated to the usual presentation of foodstuffs from the villagers. This of course pleased us, but we were more interested in water as we had not passed a stream all day and there was not a man amongst us who did not have a dry canteen. We were directed to the well and spent a good hour collecting water. At some point, a captain of one of the other companies in my battalion approached us and organised us, selecting a few from each company to collect buckets of water to bring back to their fellows. I volunteered to perform this task and spent a little while chatting with the villagers while I waited for my turn to collect water for my company – along with a few friends of mine who had volunteered to help.

                As we spoke to the villagers, we did notice an undercurrent of worry in their voices. This made me reassess the gifts of food that we had received during our march. Perhaps they were less an expression of pride in the Grand Ducal Armies or awe at the magnificence of our marching columns, but instead had come from a desire to ensure we were well fed enough to defend their homes from an encroaching enemy. We assured them that all would be fine and shared a small meal of biscuits, bread, cheese, and ale with some of them – the village’s daughters especially, though my heart belongs quite firmly to my dear Jeanne, whom I was engaged to marry at the time and have subsequently spent many happy years with. I discovered later that a friend of mine had made quite some promises to a young woman of the village that, though I am sure he had full intention of doing so, would have been quite impossible to fulfil.

                The next day, my battalion was ordered to help move cannons up to pre-selected positions, after which we would help build redoubts for them. We found ourselves under the command once again of Lieutenant-Colonel Lord il’Prolais who, to our great pleasure, introduced himself to our commandant and informed him that he had requested our battalion specifically due to the service that we had performed for him early in the march. Our spirits soared, and only flew higher when we were informed that we would be on double gin rations as a reward for our service.

           Moving the guns over uneven terrain up to elevated positions was quite the job, which required much rope and sweat and unmentionable utterances. Yet, we made good progress – as was commented upon once more by Lord il’Prolais. From the vantage point that the guns would enjoy, which was forward of where we were then encamped, we could see over the expected battlefield. It was but a few miles from a mountain pass which would prevent the Lydesi from using their greater numbers to any great advantage. However, being so close to the mountains, hills and other elements that broke the ground abounded. In many positions, the enemy would be entirely shielded by the ground from artillery-fire. I overheard il’Prolais explaining to our battalion’s lieutenant-colonel that he would spread out the guns rather than concentrate them in order to maximise the possible angles of fire and reduce the amount of this type of shielded ground. It was all very exciting.

                Once we had moved the guns into positions, which took us into the afternoon, shovels were distributed. Other bodies of men had similar tasks for other batteries of guns but, amongst all of them, we were the first to finish positioning our cannons. Shovelling was an even more gruelling task, but we made good progress. Bags of sand were brought up and using them and the displaced dirt we constructed a solid redoubt to protect the artillery. While we built, I struck up a little conversation with an artillery corporal and we consoled each other on the difficulty of the work, though he said that he had once performed a similar task under counter-battery fire and would take any amount of effort over that. At the end, our redoubt looked quite impressive – a fort in its own right – and was named The Grand Duke’s Fury by Lord il’Prolais. A fitting name. One that it would certainly live up to when the score of guns contained within rained round-shot upon the advancing enemy.

               The army continued preparing for battle over the following two days, until finally the enemy’s forward scouts were spotted. I have been told that there were engagements between our horsemen and picquets and theirs, though I saw none of those combats personally.

                On the morning of that third day, with still an hour before the sunrise, we were ordered to form up and march into a position in front of our guns. Though we initially stood to attention, waiting for battle, after a little while we were given the order to sit and take on a little food and water, while keeping our weapons to hand. Some light infantrymen had been ordered forwards and would presumably warn us with their musketry if they became engaged.

              We became quite startled when the guns began their fire, throwing cannon-shot in the vague direction that we knew the enemy lay. However, how close those enemy were we could not tell. We all ate a little more hurriedly, after that, and made sure that we could jump up in an instant to give fire or receive a charge.

                Perhaps an hour later, we were ordered to form up again, into an attack column and with bayonets affixed. My company were formed on the right half of the formation, and in the front row, and I was myself in the second rank. We moved forward, as did other battalions around us, and marched for a few minutes until we were ordered to form a line. It was as we did this that we noticed infantry wearing unfamiliar colours perhaps 400 yards to our front, as we had just crested a small ridgeline that rendered them visible.

                A few musket-shots rang out and we saw that our light infantry had engaged theirs in the space between the two lines. One enemy musket-ball went quite over the heads of our light infantry and managed to hit our lines, killing a man about four to my left. A great commotion ensued as his fellows laid him down and attempted to stem the flow of blood but, at this, our commanders grew quite angry that those men would ruin our lines like that and instead ordered to man to be taken behind the lines and attended to by a couple of men from the third rank. This was quickly done, but the man did not survive.

             As it turned out, the enemy infantry was not our immediate problem, as a group of men mounted on dromedaries charged from between the enemy infantry lines straight at us. Our lights fell back and a hasty order to form square was given, so as to prevent any potential attempts to flank our battalions. This was quite the mistake, though we did not know it. At two-to-three hundred yards, the camel-riders stopped, dismounted, lay down their mounts, and opened fire upon us. This quite surprised me, as there were too few of them to do much damage, especially at such a large distance, but I was quickly corrected as a cannonball passed not yards from me, ripping through the soldiers a little to my left. I had heard of such soldiers in the employ of the Lydesi – dromedaries with naval swivel guns mounted on them – but had never before seen them.

             The event seemed to take our commanders by surprise as well, and they hastily ordered us to return fire. I joined my musket to the others of the two companies of my battalion that still faced towards the enemy but, in our square, most of our muskets were facing away and our volume of fire was greatly reduced. Even as we were joined by the other battalions around us, I do not believe that more than a couple of the enemy were felled.

             We began to reload our pieces as the other companies of the battalion were ordered to join us in a line again, such that we could lay down all the fire that we had against the camel-gunners. Thankfully, that turned out not to be necessary as, while we were still reforming our lines, cannon-fire came from overhead and, though most of the shot fell around the enemy without affect, two cannon-balls struck true and took away both camel and rider in an almost divine display of force. Half a dozen enemy riders and their mounts were killed by those two shots alone, I am sure of it. In one voice we raised our praise to the good Lieutenant-Colonel il’Prolais, who we were sure was our saviour.

              The camels and their riders retreated as we cheered, rather than risk such fire for long but, as soon as they had left our sight, we saw that the enemy infantry was moving up, and indeed had already been moving up, screened somewhat by the dromedaries. They were at perhaps three hundred yards from our lines.

              Our commanders held us steady as they approached, though we were itching to fire at them. The front rank was ordered to take a knee, leaving me and my fellows in the second rank quite exposed. The enemy were perhaps two hundred yards away before we were finally given the order to present arms and fire into their ranks. This had no great affect, but some of them did fall, and we quickly reloaded before firing again. Once we had fired three volleys, and I had become near deafened from the sound of the muskets of the men behind me going off next to my ears, we were ordered to march forward a few yards, through the smoke, such that we could fire more effectively upon the enemy, as there was little wind to take away the smoke of our fusillades. I have always had some difficulty around powder-smoke, as it seems to claw at my throat and cause my eyes to stream even more greatly than for other men, and so I did not relish this order. I held my breath and closed my eyes as I went through, relying on my proximity to the men around me to guide me true. Though I ended up kicking the man in front of me, I was glad that I did so.

             Once we were through the smoke, we could see the enemy more clearly again. They had formed a line a little over a hundred yards from us. From there, they fired a volley into our lines and we returned in kind. This went on for a few volleys more. On the last enemy fusillade, the man in front of me was shot clean through the head, and he fell down from his kneeling position at my feet. This quite shocked me, such that I completely missed the order to fire, and was disturbed greatly by the crack of muskets that came from the men behind me.

          With that final volley, the men of the first rank were ordered up onto their feet, though they were quite reluctant to do so, as their kneeling position gave them somewhat more protection than would a standing stance. Once they were up, we were ordered to charge the enemy, who charged us in turn. I made sure to step around my fallen comrade, and then found myself in the front rank, facing the enemy bayonets that grew ever closer.

             I must admit that I had no great desire to see those bayonets any closer and made sure to slow my pace a little such that I would be half a pace behind the rest of the first rank and avoid the initial impact of the enemy bayonets. However, it seemed that I was not the only man to be taken by such a notion, and the whole first rank began to slow, some of us knocked over by the collision of the rank behind us. We came to a complete halt to help those men up but had to reckon with the fury of our officers, commissioned and otherwise. Our captain fought his way to the front of our lines and, drawing his sword, brandished the thing at the enemy, fifty yards or less away, while ordering us to resume our advance as they were almost upon us.

            He himself began to move towards them without looking back and, encouraged by his example, many of us followed. Some, it must be admitted, stayed in place, but they would have to deal with the sergeants at the rear of our formation. I can attest to being in the former group and drew level with the captain as we collided quite violently with the enemy.

          Our captain was the first to fall, with a bayonet in the gut, and I jumped back to avoid a similar fate, accidentally hitting one of my comrades behind me with my head. I was quite stunned by this action and, in a daze, brandished my musket to keep any enemy at a suitable distance. The rest of that desperate melee was quite a blur and I cannot say that I performed any action of note. I noticed some of us begin to flee, followed by more, until it seemed that the whole battalion were taking their leave of the situation. Not wanting to be left behind to the enemy’s hospitality, I happily joined my comrades in retreat.

            It was exhaustion that eventually stopped us, and we formed together in a loose mob, every man fearing the possibility that he might meet the enemy alone. The young lieutenant of our company was amongst us and tried to form us back into something resembling military order, while he sent someone off to find the battalion commander. As it turned out, we were one of a few groups that had formed of those who retreated, and soon we were joined back together under the command of our lieutenant-colonel. However, our fight was already lost and we had been badly bloodied. At least a third of the battalion were no longer with us – having been killed, wounded, or captured.

             We were ordered forward a little and made to form another line, though the enemy was not yet in sight. There, we waited for some time, nervous about another possible engagement, until another force of men, still unbloodied in this battle, came up from behind us to relive us. Our battalion, and the others that had participated in that fateful charge, were ordered to withdraw, allowing the fresh troops to take over from us.

             However, if we expected rest, we were not given it, and were instead manoeuvred over a little, though to what effect I do not know. Here, finally, we were allowed some respite, though still told to be on the alert. We did not have to be, as it turned out, and the rest of the battle continued without us firing a shot.

              We were told that we had won, apparently due to the efforts of the Colonel-General of the Horse Guards, who had led a decisive charge supported by the artillery and broken the enemy left. Our own inglorious participation in the great Battle of Mounet, as it has subsequently been called, was not dwelt upon. An engaged reader will have realised that our Lord Geldrun il’Prolais was none other than the man now serving as Commandant-General of the Ordinance and who was recently bestowed with the title Viscount il’Mounet, named for this victory attributed largely to him. Despite our victory, we were told that we would break camp and move north a little way. I later learnt that this was because the enemy had broken through at another mountain pass and, staying where we were, we risked having our lines of retreat cut off. Frankly, myself and my fellows were just thankful to be rid of that blood-stained battlefield.

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