The Grenadiers and Chasseurs, formed into close columns, advanced against the mass of Russians, who, not daring to wait for them, retired and left the passage free; they took up a position on the hills to the left of the road, and turned their artillery on us. When we heard the cannon, we doubled our pace, as we were behind, and arrived just as our gunners were answering them. The Russians disappeared behind the hills as our fire began, and we continued our way.
An incident occurred at this time about which I cannot keep silence, and I have heard the same incident entirely differently related. What they say is this: That when, on first catching sight of the Russians, the first regiments of the Guard were grouped round the Emperor, marching as if no enemy were before them, the band played the air 'Où peut-on être mieux qu'au sein de sa famille?' and that the Emperor stopped the music, ordering to be played instead 'Veillons au salut de l'Empire!'
The incident did happen, but in quite a different fashion, as it was at Smolensk, on the day of our departure. The Prince Neuchâtel, then Minister of War, seeing that no orders for departure came from the Emperor, and that the whole army was in despair at being kept in such a wretched position, collected some men from the bands under the Emperor's window, and told them to play the air 'Où peut-on être mieux qu'au sein de sa famille?' They had scarcely begun, when the Emperor appeared on the balcony, and ordered them to play 'Veillons au salut de l'Empire!' The men were forced to play it as best they could, in spite of their pain, and immediately afterwards the order for departure on the next morning was given. How could it have been possible for the wretched men, even had they been to the right of the regiment, to have blown down their instruments, or used their poor frost-bitten fingers? This, on the other hand, was quite a possibility at Smolensk, as there were fires where they could get warm.
In two hours after the encounter with the Russians, the Emperor reached Krasnoë with the first regiments of the Guard—ours and the Fusiliers-Chasseurs. We camped behind the town. I was on guard with fifteen men at General Roguet's quarters: a miserable house in the town, thatched with straw. I put my men in a stable, thinking myself in luck to be under cover, and near a fire we had just lighted, but it turned out quite otherwise.
While we were in Krasnoë and the immediate neighbourhood, the Russians, 90,000 strong, surrounded us—to right, to left, in front, and behind, nothing but Russians—thinking, no doubt, they could soon finish us off. But the Emperor wished to show them it was not quite so easy a thing as they imagined; for although we were most wretched, and dying of cold and hunger, we still possessed two things—courage and honour. The Emperor, therefore, annoyed at seeing himself followed by this horde of barbarians and savages, decided to rid himself of them.
On the evening of our arrival, General Roguet received orders to attack during the night, taking with him part of the Guard, the Fusiliers-Chasseurs, the Grenadiers, the light companies, and skirmishers. At eleven o'clock a few detachments were sent on first to reconnoitre, and find out exactly where the Russians lay; we could see their camp-fires in the two villages they held. They seem to have expected us, for some were already prepared to receive us.
At about one o'clock in the morning, the General came to me, and said, with his Gascon accent:
'Sergeant, leave a corporal and four men here in charge of my quarters, and the few things I have left. Go back to the camp yourself, and rejoin the regiment with your guard. We shall have our work cut out for us presently.'
To tell the truth, I was very much disgusted at this order. I do not mean that I was afraid of fighting, but I grudged the time lost for sleep terribly.
When we got to the camp, preparations were already going on; evidently serious things were expected. I heard several men say that they hoped an end would at last be put to their sufferings, as they could struggle no longer.