Chapter 15 - Plancenoit
While Wellington’s army fought for the ridge, another battle raged behind Napoleon’s right.
Plancenoit.
A village I had barely noticed on maps.
By evening, it mattered enormously.
Prussian troops pushed in.
French forces fought them street by street.
Napoleon sent men to stop them.
Then more.
Some of his best.
Every battalion pulled toward Plancenoit was a battalion unavailable against Wellington.
That is easy to explain afterward.
On the field, all we knew was that fighting to the east grew louder.
I climbed a slight rise.
Smoke covered the village.
Church roofs appeared, disappeared.
Gunfire flickered.
Men moved like shadows.
“How many?” I asked a messenger.
“Prussians?”
“Yes.”
He laughed.
“Enough.”
That answer spread hope.
But hope at Waterloo was dangerous.
Every time we thought the French were weakening, another attack came.
The Allied center remained under pressure.
La Haye Sainte was lost.
French guns fired close.
Men fell.
Then someone shouted:
“They’re coming!”
Not Prussians.
The Imperial Guard.
I looked toward the French side.
Dark columns moved forward.
Steady.
Controlled.
Veterans.
These were not frightened conscripts.
Their reputation had traveled across Europe long before they reached our ridge.
The men around me knew it.
Some went quiet.
An officer rode behind troops shouting:
“Stand!”
William’s regiment prepared.
I saw his face once through a gap.
He did not see me.
I was glad.
May you like
If he had, I might have tried to say something.
There was nothing useful left to say.
