The
Battle of
Blenheim
by
Oliver Gibb
The French and
Bavarians stormed
through Bavaria
trying to banish the
English and
Austrians from their
once silent country;
they would do
whatever it took to
rid the stranger from
their lands.
Blenheim was a
village in Bavaria
situated not far from
the Alps, it was once
a quiet village full of
happiness and peace.
But the French and
Bavarians had
plundered and
ransacked the old
settlement taking the
people's food, water
and clothing. They
had left the town hall
in ashes, leaving the
citizens to fend for
themselves in the
woods of Lorien
hiding from the
king's soldiers.T
he villagers had found it hard
work in the forest keeping
themselves warm and alive.
More than once they had
crept back to Blenheim late at
night only to discover it
infested with soldiers; more and more soldiers
flocked to the run-down village with each
daylight hour. The villagers had finally
abandoned Blenheim and left it to rot in the
careless hands of the Austrian mercenaries.
They had however found a refuge deep in the
forest of Lorien far away from the troubles of
war. They had worked hard over the months
building their home at every waking moment;
it had become their permanent dwelling. It
was a beautiful place deep in the mountains.
In homage to their last village they named this
shelter Blenheim and prayed to Almighty God
that the same fate would not befall this village.
Sadly their heartfelt prayer fell short of God's
ears; their fate had already been decided.
The Hussars were being stretched to their very
limit in terms of patience; they were close to
starvation and had not felt the smooth, fiery
taste of rum in almost a week. The English
dragoons had been posted at the run-down
village near the Danube River and were finding
things very difficult; they were in command
and given no supplies ? and the permission to
kill French on sight. They still had faith; the
English and Austrian armies had combined to
create a mighty force of 80,000 men under the
Duke of Marlborough's command. The Allies
spotted the French and Bavarians with about
50,000 men commanded by the sly Marshal
Villeroi; they had been located far to the west
but they were closing in fast on the small
village. With French reinforcements of 60,000
hot on the Allies' tail they seemed trapped.
The race was on.
"Charge!" screamed Villeroi as 110,000
soldiers stormed up the hill towards the proud,
professional troops. The older soldiers among
the Allies' ranks stared down at their
disadvantaged foe who would be scared and
tired by the time they reached the top of the
hill. The Allies' plan was simple. The
experienced warriors would hold the front line
commanded by Duke Marlborough with the
cavalry ready to break into the side of the
enemy, scattering their troops and sending
them fleeing off down the hill. If this failed,
the last stand would be fought in Blenheim
with the mass of the Austrian army building
defences at this very moment.
The whole of Villeroi's army howled war cries
as they charged towards their fate; however
they were not a disorganised rabble any more;
on the run they had formed into three
battalions and two columns looking disciplined
and fierce. The Horn sounded and with one
swift, practised movement Marlborough's
troops raised their weapons ready to kill any
who dare challenge them. The two forces
clashed and with a mighty roar the killing had
begun. Men twirled and leapt slashing
vigorously and angrily at their opponents. Men
in the front fell with blood spurting from deep
wounds, only to be replaced by more and more
warriors eager to kill and injure any whoever
dared defy them. The Duke was in all his glory
setting a heroic example to his men. He
constantly cut and slashed at the enemy
bringing men down like flies.
T
he Allies had superior fighting
ability but were slowly being
crushed back by Villeroi's vast
army. 'Retreat!' The French
army pressed on wearily.
Villeroi smiled as he watched
Marlborough retreat, but he was not smiling for
long. The first horse rushed out of the dark
forest galloping toward the French, it was
followed silently by 800 other dragoons. The
horses took the French unawares and crashed
straight into their flank piercing a large gap in
the French body. The dragoons rode in an arc
through the French and Bavarians commanding
their horses to stamp, kick and bit. The
surprised, tired French infantry were no match
for the Dragoons. They fell in their hundreds.
The horses then galloped off to become the
Allies' rearguard. The Dragoons had escaped
with little injury and massacred the surprised
French and Bavarians.
The Allies rejoiced as they saw their cavaliers
canter back to join their army. They mustered
up all their energy and showed themselves on
the ridge of the hill and started solemnly
striding down the hill. Villeroi counted his
casualties and took one look at the oncoming
army. 'Retreat!' The Duke had won!
Aluredian
46