Chapter XVI: I Join the Staff

The fortress of Buda fell on the twenty-second of May. It was now the fifth of June, and the twin cities, though sorely scarred by the terrible bombardments, had dressed themselves in gala costume.

All the troops--the 9th Honveds amongst them--stationed in the two towns were assembled under arms; and the men of the artillery on both sides of the Danube stood to their guns.

A glance at the streets, however, showed that the citizens did not anticipate any fighting.

The scene was a most animated one, and under happier circumstances I should doubtless have enjoyed the brilliant spectacle. Hundreds of gay flags--the red, white, and green stripes predominant--fluttered from the cupolas of the buildings; arches of garlands stretched across the streets; the people, dressed in their best finery, and many of them carrying splendid bouquets, promenaded to and fro, or occupied good positions from which to view the coming pageant.

All along the route from the railway station the windows were crowded by richly-dressed ladies and children, craning their necks to catch the first sight of the hero.

As our regiment marched to take its place, I could not help thinking of the many ruined families and the hundreds of wounded soldiers to whom this pageant must seem little more than a hollow mockery.

"I don't think this triumphal entry shows good taste on his part," I remarked to Dobozy, after we had halted.

"Suit him capitally!" declared he. "It's just like a stage-play. Did you hear how he is coming from Szolnok?"

"By rail, I suppose."

"Yes, and in the emperor's private carriage. Anything's good enough for a thorough-paced republican."

"I suppose his wife accompanies him?"

Dobozy laughed and said we should see.

Suddenly the guns roared out their brazen welcome; the people, waving their flags, cheered loudly; the bands played Rakotzy's patriotic march, and a company of guards issued from the station. Then the cheering became louder and wilder, and shouts of "Elijen Kossuth!" rose as Count Karoly's handsome chariot, drawn by four magnificent Hungarian horses, made its appearance. In it, his head crowned with laurel, sat the observed of all beholders, Louis Kossuth, Dictator of Hungary, and on his right a tall, haughty-looking woman with black hair and eyes, pointed nose, long chin, and regular mouth.

This was the dictator's wife, Madame Theresa Kossuth, and I thought, though perhaps wrongly, that the light in her eyes was one of satisfied pride.

Behind the chariot rode a long line of Magyar nobles, making a brilliant show in their national costume, though, for the country's sake, I would rather have seen them at the front in simple uniform.

As Dobozy truly remarked, patriotism required very little sacrifice if it was satisfied by riding about the streets of the capital in gala attire.

However, the procession passed, the hero was withdrawn from sight, and we were at liberty to return to barracks.

The festivities continued all day, and in the evening the city was illuminated in honour of the dictator.

"Foolish people!" said the colonel sadly, as we strolled along the river-bank that night. "One would think, to see their transports, that the war is over, while it is really only beginning."

"I can't understand why the general doesn't make a forward move, and drive the enemy out of Presburg."

"Because he's waiting for ammunition and men," put in Dobozy, who was walking with us. "I saw Juranics yesterday--just come from the front, wounded in some outpost affair, I believe. He says only half the recruits have been sent on, and they don't even know their drill. Besides, they haven't any weapons, if they knew how to use them. Lively sort of army, eh? Juranics said plainly he believed Kossuth's party was jealous of Goergei's success."

"They're afraid he'll topple their brand-new republic over," said the colonel; "which is just what he would do if the Austrians were cleared out. However, it's too late now. While we've been wasting our time, the enemy has been getting ready."

"They say we shall have 160,000 Russians, besides the Austrians, to tackle."

"That's so," replied the colonel cheerfully; "while we are split up into two factions, each fighting for a different object."

Matters were, indeed, in a more desperate state than we thought. The Austrians, thoroughly frightened for the safety of the empire, had begged the assistance of Russia.

They had already twice changed their chief, and were now led by Baron Haynau, an officer who had won distinction in several campaigns, but whose name was hereafter to be linked with acts of savage cruelty against which all Europe cried out in horror. He was now at Presburg with 60,000 men, waiting for the arrival of a veteran Russian division, which had been dispatched to his assistance.

The principal Russian army, 76,000 strong, and led by the famous field-marshal, Paskewitch, was in Galicia, ready to descend on Central Hungary by way of the Carpathians. A third Russian army was to invade Transylvania, while Jellachich covered Croatia.

However, there were gay doings in Pesth for one day at least, and when we turned in at night the city was still _en fete_.

I think it was the third evening after Kossuth's triumphal reception when the colonel sent word that he wished to see me. Being off duty, I returned with the messenger, little dreaming how great a change in my prospects the next half-hour would produce.

"Come in," cried Rakoczy pleasantly, as I knocked at the door.

He was standing by the window overlooking the barrack-yard with another man, whom I immediately recognized as Goergei.

"All well?" cried the general genially, stretching out his hand. "That's right. Bit tedious hanging about Pesth, eh?"

"I think we should all be glad of a change, general."

"You'll all get one soon, when the white-coats drive you out, and even then you'll grumble--eh, colonel?" and he gave Rakoczy a playful dig in the ribs.

"We'd much rather help you get inside Vienna," replied the colonel.

The general's smile vanished.

"Too late!" he said shortly. "That should have been done a month ago. Take my word for it, old comrade, the game is lost; but we'll play it right out all the same, and only give in when we must.--Botskay, can you ride?"

"Fairly well," I answered, not wishing to boast.

"Would you like to come with me?"

"The general means on his staff," explained Rakoczy, smiling.

Now, I should have liked this very much indeed, but for leaving Rakoczy, and this made me hesitate.

The colonel, seeing my difficulty, laughed, and said,--

"I'll answer for him, general. The berth will suit him capitally. The campaign has made him pretty hardy, and he'll soon learn to do without sleep."

"Well," said the general kindly, laying his hand on my shoulder, "I shall be glad to have you. I was very fond of your brother, and miss him more than you would think. So just pack up anything you may want. I'm leaving by the steamer in an hour."

I hurried to my room and called for Mecsey, who received the order to pack without betraying the least surprise. He would have taken it quite as a matter of course had I been appointed commander-in-chief.

Then I went to say farewell to the officers of my regiment, had a last chat with Dobozy, who was sorry to lose me, and finally returned to the colonel's room.

"Good-bye, George," exclaimed my old friend warmly. "Sorry we're parting, but it will be better for you. Besides, we shall often see each other, and the war can't last long. From what the general tells me, we haven't the slightest chance. His army's in a wretched state, and the other leaders are all pulling different ways. However, we must keep our heads up and do the best we can; but don't take too many risks, my boy. Goergei will keep you well occupied, and there's no sense in knocking your head against a stone wall just for the fun of the thing."

"Not a bit!" cried the general, coming in at the moment, "even if you have a wooden one. Well, good-bye, old fellow. We shall soon begin to move now, one way or the other. Get the regiment into trim as soon as you can; every man will be wanted.--Ready, Botskay? Come on then."

Rakoczy pressed my hand, and accompanied us to the gates, where Sandor was already in waiting.

With another warm hand-shake we left the colonel, and walked sharply to the embankment.

Goergei had thrown an ample grey mantle over his sombre uniform, and had pulled his hat over his brow as if not particularly wishing to be recognized.

He did not speak till we reached the landing-place, where a boat lay with steam up, ready to cast off at a moment's notice.

"Jump aboard," he exclaimed sharply. Then, to a sailor, "Help this man with the baggage. Are you right?--Go ahead, captain."

The ropes were cast off, as I could tell by the movements of the steamer, but it was now too dark to see much.

Goergei disappeared, while I, going to the bow of the boat, gazed ahead into the gloom.

Here and there a light shining from the river's bank roused my interest for the moment; but taking it altogether, it was dreary work, and I thought regretfully of the snug barracks.

Presently, however, Goergei joined me, and in his company I lost all sense of weariness and discomfort.

Though burdened by such a load of care, and ready at any moment to assume the sternness of the chief, he laughed and joked with me as if we were equals, his cheerful gaiety making the time pass quite pleasantly.

Indeed the general was a splendid companion, but he had two foibles--he thought sleep was a mistake, and eating a luxury one should try to do without.

With these opinions I did not altogether hold, so I inwardly blessed the captain of the boat when he suggested we should go below and have a snack of supper.

Having made a good meal, I wrapped myself up warmly and lay down, leaving Goergei poring over some maps and making calculations.

I cannot say what occurred during the night, but when I awoke next morning the general was still intent on his work and looking fresh as ever.

About mid-day the steamer slowed down; a boat was lowered, into which Sandor put my baggage; then Goergei got in, and we followed.

We were not near any town, but the general had evidently made his arrangements, for as the sailors pulled us ashore, a body of soldiers--some on foot, others on horseback--came down to the water's edge.

Goergei sprang out briskly, and held a hurried conversation with the leader of the party. Then he directed a soldier to give me his horse, mounted his own--a beautiful grey--and we all set off for headquarters.

The appearance of the army confirmed my feeling of despondency. The men who had served throughout the campaign were in good trim, but those newly drafted to make up for our previous losses looked anything but soldiers.

I discovered, too, that the officers were secretly uneasy, and their anxiety increased when, a few days after my arrival, Goergei's scouts brought word that a Russian division had joined Haynau at Presburg.

This was on the fourteenth of June, and two days later witnessed the beginning of what may be called the second campaign.

Our engineers had built several bridges over the river Waag, and on the fifteenth of June the army crossed to the farther side.

"Ah!" exclaimed one of my new comrades regretfully, "if we could have done this a month ago!"

"We should be in Vienna now," said another gaily; "but we aren't, and it's no use grumbling. Here comes Bethlen. Klapka has sent him with an important message, to judge by the state of his horse's flanks."

The rider approached at a gallop, pulled his horse up sharply, and having saluted, handed a note to Goergei.

The general, glancing at the contents, put the crumpled paper into his pocket.

"Tell General Klapka I'm much obliged, but I don't think anything serious will happen to-morrow."

Bethlen saluted again, nodded to several of his acquaintances, and rode away at a quieter pace.

Goergei had made his calculations accurately, and although several desperate outpost affairs occurred, it was not until the morning of the seventeenth that the two armies really joined battle.

On the very same date, although we did not know it then, Field-Marshal Paskewitch emerged from the Carpathians on his march into Central Hungary.

The battle began with a terrible artillery fire, which was directed against our centre; and Goergei himself, followed by the staff, galloped down to encourage the sorely-tried soldiers.

At the same time he sent me to the colonel of a hussar regiment with an order to break up a mass of infantry, which was preparing to hurl itself on our weakened centre.

"Directly it's done, ride back as hard as you can," he said, and I dashed off.

The colonel listened to the order, well pleased.

"Tell the general we will do it," he said with quiet confidence.

"He wishes me to stay and take back your report," I answered, and the colonel kindly agreed that I should ride with him.

The regiment was composed of seasoned warriors, who hailed the sound of the trumpet with delight.

With swords bared, we started at a trot, increasing the pace as we approached the enemy.

The ground for the most part was flat, but there were several sandhills or banks, and from one of these a storm of shot ploughed into us as we rode by.

The fire was so severe and unexpected that a regiment of young soldiers would have been thrown into confusion; but these veterans only shook their fists, vowing to capture the battery on their return.

Our horses had got into their stride now, and we were fairly racing over the level ground.

It was the first time I had taken part in a cavalry charge, and the blood ran hot in my veins.

The colonel rode upright as a dart and stiff as a poker, but I, more accustomed to a horse's back on the broad plains than in a military riding-school, rode in a much easier though less dignified position.

That men and horses were thoroughly well drilled one glance would have shown. In spite of the artillery fire and the speed at which we rode, there were no gaps. The horses raced neck by neck, with equal strides, and the whole regiment went forward like a piece of machinery.

The Austrian battalions stood quite firm to receive us, and as we got nearer I doubted very much if we could break through that solid mass.

But Goergei had not sent us to do the work alone. On our left, farther down the field, several squadrons, springing up unexpectedly, were riding straight at the battalions, and we, seeing this, cheered excitedly.

"Forward!" shouted the colonel, rising in his stirrups, "and keep together!"

Whatever was going on elsewhere, the Austrians before us stood like a stone wall till we were well within range. Then came a blinding flash, a loud report, a greyish cloud of smoke, and, from behind me, fierce shouts and cries of pain.

But above all rang out the stirring "Forward!" of the colonel, and almost at the same instant we were amongst the bayonets.

Crash! we went, driving into the very centre of the mass, splitting it up into groups, pushing it this way and that, till a ringing cheer announced that the enemy were in full flight.

The hussars, flushed and excited, would have gone pell-mell in pursuit, but fortunately the leader had his men well in hand, and made them re-form their ranks.

Our comrades farther along the field, carried away by excitement, dashed after the runaways, and were soon widely scattered.

Then, through a gap in the sandhills beyond, there suddenly issued a close, compact body of cavalry, which charged down upon us like an avalanche.

Our horses were already blown; we ourselves were spent by the fierce fight; our losses had been severe, and many of the men still in the ranks were wounded; yet the colonel did not hesitate.

Flight would result in our being cut to pieces; to stand still would give the enemy a tremendous advantage; there was nothing for it but to charge afresh.

The colonel, waving his sword, sprang to the front; the bugles rang out; the men, cheering loudly, dug their spurs into their horses' flanks. Once more the regiment was in motion.

The distance to be covered was short, but enough to get our animals well into their stride before the crash came.

Fast as we rode, the Austrians rode still faster; and, but for the superior strength of the Hungarian horses, we should simply have been swept away by the furious shock.

As it was, we charged them gallantly, and soon steel met steel as swords crossed or rang on the polished breast-plates.

Our colonel--evidently a magnificent swordsman, and mounted on a powerful animal--drove his way through the serried ranks; but my passage was barred by the Austrian leader, who seemed to have singled me out specially.

I wondered at this for a moment; then in a flash remembered who this handsome, blue-eyed fellow was.

"Von Theyer!" rose to my lips as, sitting his horse with a natural gracefulness, the former rebel rode straight at me.

From that moment I lost sight of the general conflict.

Round us rose the cries and groans of wounded men, the cheers and counter-cheers of the combatants, the sound of clashing swords; but to all I gave but a passing thought.

This Von Theyer, who by some means--probably reckless bravery--had already risen high in the Austrian service, meant to kill me.

His deadly purpose shone in his eyes, and it was obvious he expected to have an easy task.

However, though he was by far the better master of the sword, I knew the more of horsemanship, and by swerving aside at the proper moment, caused his stroke to fail.

Before he recovered I had pricked him in the arm. It was a slight wound, but it drew blood and made him angry.

This was all in my favour, as he lost his caution, and, throwing away the advantage of his superior skill, attacked furiously.

Again and again I avoided his weapon almost by a miracle; but at last I made a fierce cut which he failed to parry, and my sword slashed him right across the face.

He threw up his hands with a cry of pain, falling in a heap on his horse's back.

At the same instant a shout of alarm was raised; the hussars in advance, wheeling about, came dashing back, separating me from Von Theyer.

Since I had left Goergei the aspect of the battle had entirely changed.

While we had broken the Austrian battalions, our centre, fearfully weakened by a heavy cannonade from twenty-four guns, and furiously assailed by two brigades on its right flank, had given way.

Worse still, the Russian general, seeing that the tide was turning, sent a splendid body of cuirassiers and two field-batteries to change the retreat into rout.

It was the rapid approach of these famous horsemen that made us turn back.

The colonel was angry, but he could not hope to pit his broken regiment successfully against the cuirassiers, while a prompt retreat might enable him to cover the flight of the infantry.

So he gave the word, and we retired in good order, but at a gallop.

Meanwhile the Austrian gunners received their allies with a roar of welcome, and the cuirassiers in glittering helmets and breastplates swept proudly on.

With a message from the colonel, I made the best of my way to the chief, who as usual was in the thick of the fight, risking his life as freely as the humblest soldier.

But the day was lost. We were outnumbered both in men and guns, and the Russian division had converted a possible victory into a disastrous defeat.

For a time we made a desperate attempt to hold the village of Pered, but it was simply throwing men's lives away to no purpose; and at length the general, who, however much he objected to be beaten, did not believe in knocking his head against the wall, issued orders for a retreat.

"Find General Klapka," said he to me, "and tell him to withdraw his men across the Waag; but he must do his best to hold the bridges. If he doesn't, the enemy will chase us back to Pesth without a stop."

I turned my horse's head, and dashed off along the line of fire; but time being precious, I could not afford to go a long way round.