Sharp Practice 2

[Noisysteve]

Spring 1810

George was not happy. An Ensign in the Portuguese army, life, recently had been good. He commanded a detachment of Cascadores, and along with some Portuguese line infantry had been tasked with guarding this bridge which sat on the border with Spain. Most days they were costed by officers from the French battalion positioned across the river in Spain. Articles and gossip was exchanged and a pleasant day had, as the war passed them by. In fact George had a cask of Port he had promised in exchange for some decent French wine.
But today the Gods and Command had conspired against him. Headquarters had decided to sent a Spanish Regiment across the bridge, to have the honour of being the first to regain Spanish soil. With them had come some babysitters, a detachment of Black Watch, some Rifles and a battalion of redcoats.
George had also crossed the bridge, and watched the preposterous Spaniards , in their garish uniforms parade up the pasture.
Movement and a reflection caught his eye, and he could make out the arrival of the French. They stopped at the edge of the pasture, obviously surprised to see a new regiment. They formed line and brought their weapons into the salute, as a mark of respect.
Spanish officers could be heard shouting, as they brought their muskets to the shoulder. Then the day went bad as the Spanish opened fire..
Around George everyone went silent, not believing what they had just witnessed. The French were no threat, But now the war had crept into the quiet.
It Stu , with the Black Watch cursed, then rapidly spat out orders, in English and Spanish.
The South Essex moved forward, extending into line. The Rifles disappeared into a rocky outcrop on the left flank.
George blew his whistle, and his men made for a hill on the right. More movement to his right made him look up.Another French battalion appeared in line.
That evened the odds. The Spanish were now in full retreat, not a bad thing as if the French got them it would be a political disaster. This left the small half company of Black Watch on their own in the centre. With disciplined precision they fired, reloaded and fired again.
The French advanced in both sides, holding fire at this extreme range.
The British moved forward, pushing the Spanish behind them. They now formed a firing line, hoping to make a stand.
It Stu now noticed Redcoats forming on his right and Green jackets to his left. Cascadores anchoring the right flank.
One of the French battalions fired, musket balls ripping into the British line, casualties dropping from each unit.
The Allied skirmishers with their longer ranged weapons, were now taking a toll on the French, an officer taking a bullet through his throat.
The second French battalion fired too, but to no great effect.
The British concentrated on the one battalion, forcing in back and back, littering the pasture with the dead and dying.
The second French battalion continued to fire, but were now outnumbered.
With one battalion virtually destroyed, thanks to the disciplined fire of the British, the second one turned round and marched from the field.
When George turned round he could see the Spanish, on the Portuguese side of the river, brandishing their weapons, oblivious to the fact they had fired one volley and run away.
The field belonged to the British, and George knew he never going to get his wine.