_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.