Episode 510: The March to Moscow

his last unruly ally Russia. The Czar Alexander the First had grown increasingly weary of Napoleon's continental system, and his generals whispered that the French colossus had become stretched thin. Napoleon believed a swift, decisive campaign would bring the Czar to heal, and so he summoned a host unlike anything that had ever been seen. Once again, it was called the Grand Army, but it was no longer the tight knit, disciplined group that Napoleon had fought to get his empire.

This Grand Army was a patchwork of peoples. There were Poles, Italians, Dutch, even some reluctant Prussians, more than six hundred thousand men. As they crossed the Neman River in June of eighteen twelve, Napoleon declared to his troops let the second Polish War begin, but Russia wouldn't give him a second Austerlitz Alexander. He intended something a lot more painful for the emperor of the continent of Europe. Napoleon expected a quick strike, a single battle that would.

The Russians had dug in, and so Napoleon's men stormed in one general, crashing charge, a massive great redoubt the Russian defensive position, over and over again. Field Marshal Ney, the bravest of brave, charged so many times that even the most hardened a veteran believed that he had to be immortal. By nightfall, the French held the field, but at a cost that chilled even Napoleon. He had lost seventy thousand casualties in a single day, just over ten

percent of his total army. The Russian army had been battered, but in the end it had not been broken, and Czar Alexander the First remained defiant board Deadno was a French victory, but not the kind that Napoleon needed. He had destroyed neither the Russian army nor his enemy's will,

and still they retreated. Still they would not surrender. And so in September the fourteenth, eighteen twelve, as dawn broke, Napoleon reached Polkalina Hill, a small from which he could see Moscow, and from where he expected to see delegations of the Russians approaching. Tradition, of course, held that foreign rulers presented themselves here humbly acknowledging defeat. Napoleon fully expected the keys of Moscow to be placed in his hands,

and so he waited. The wind stirred on the Russian plane, No delegation appeared. Far in the distance. The domes of Ivan the Great's belt tower gleamed like a promise that would never be fulfilled, but still convinced that surrender was imminent. Napoleon descended the hill and rode into the western streets of Moscow. But the silence unsettled even him. Doors just hung out and curtains fluttered through windows that had been shattered.

There were no people, but dogs wandered freely in the streets. Not a single rushing dignitary, not one soldier, not one priest, had come to greet him. Moscow, the ancient and beating heart of Russia, was totally empty. At last, he said aloud what his generals had already been whispering.

only just missed the Russian host. Once inside the Kremlin, according to our sources, Napoleon stepped into the private quarters reserved for Russia's rulers, exploring them in an eerie quiet There were gilded chairs, tapestries, everything suggesting luxury, yet totally untouched. He remarked to an aid that Moscow had become quote, a desert in disguise, and this, of course, was not how emperors won wars. There were no negotiations, no nobles begging for terms, only a city that seemed to have

swallowed its own people. Still, Napoleon refused to admit the obvious. He continued to believe that Czar Alexander would show up, that he would relent, that he would come to the table, And so he made camp in the Kremlin, and he waited. He probably would have kept waiting had not. The fires began. Shortly before midnight. The glow of flames appeared on the northern edge of the city. At first, officers assumed a stray spark.

into now an inferno. Sparks leapt from roof to roof faster than the soldiers could stamp them. Ount The Grand Army, exhausted from its march, starving from lack of supplies, scattered in confusion as the fire swallowed the streets in minute. The heat got so great, in fact, that glass just exploded in the windows. Soldiers collapsed from smoke inhalation, horses panic Inside the Kremlin, the air grew thick, with suit flames crept ever closer. Now Napoleon tried to remain calm,

but those around him saw unease in his eyes. His quarters grew unbearably hot. Cinders drifted through open windows at one point of firestorm surge toward the Kremlin walls, turning them into glowing embers. Mirat, for his part, begged his emperor to evacuate the city. Marshal Beliseias insisted that the whole citadel would soon be engulfed. Still Napoleon hesitated. He just couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that the Russians would sacrifice their capital city so willingly, But he just

didn't understand Czar Alexander. And then, with a deafening crack, a powder magazine near the Kremlin exploded, sending a plume of fire so high into the sky no one could see the top. And so Napoleon finally gave the order. Soldiers now rushed quickly to move the imperial baggage. Horses stampeded, Smoke thickened to a choking black fog, Napoleon mounted his horse and rode out through the gate, his face streaked

with ash. As he escaped into the open countryside southwest of the city, he turned back from one last look. Moscow burned before him, looking like the setting sun. A French officer would later write, quote, it seemed not like a real city, but a vision, an entire world on fire. For three days, the flames raged, some quarters were reduced entirely to ash, and more than two thirds of the

Russian capital city of Moscow was destroyed. When the fire at last began to die, Napoleon returned to the Kremlin, stepping through the charred Debrison ash that drifted like snowflakes in the air. The city ruined beyond repair for the coming winter, and so now the shock began to settle in. He had conquered the capital of Russia, but it had cost him everything, and it had gained Napoleon nothing. There were no peace envoys, The Tsar was nowhere to be seen.

He had no supplies, and now he had no shelter. Instead, the Tsar sent him a message, one that would echo across history. I will make peace at no other capital than Paris. Napoleon was now trapped in a hollow victory master of a burning city. He could not use and he could not hold. For Napoleon, if the invasion of Russia had been at Gamble, the retreat was almost instantaneously a nightmare. Temperatures plunged to minus thirty degrees fahrenheit. Winter

came way too early. Horses died by the thousands, Cannon and wagons were simply abandoned. Wolves stalked the columns, and Cossacks raided the flanks. Men froze standing upright, Soldiers burned their own muskets just to stay warm. And then came the catastrophe at the Barrenzena River in late November. The Battle of Barrenzena fought between November twenty sixth and twenty ninth, eighteen twelve. Snow fell thick in wind driven sheets. The

barren Zena River, contrary to Napoleon's hopes, had not frozen solid. Instead, the water churned black and half iced, swollen by a sudden thaw that turned the banks into deep, clinging mud. For Napoleon, the Barnzena was the last barrier between his disintegrating army and survival. If he could cross, he might yet reach Vilna, reorganize and save the remnant of his forces. If he failed, the Grand Army that set out with so much ambition would likely be annihilated on the spot.

Now behind him chased Marshal Kutsov and the main Russian army, which pressed relentlessly forward, and after the disaster at Moscow, had suddenly come out of hiding. On his right, Admiral Chikov's Army of the Danube raced to block his crossing of the Barrenzena River. Meanwhile, to the north, Wittenstein's Corps Prussians pushed downward to crush him. To the Russians, it appeared like a perfect trap, three walls closing in upon a depleted, wounded, and desperate foe. To Napoleon, the only

hope was deception and speed. Napoleon scouts reported that the main bridge at the nearby town of Borisov had already been destroyed by Russian forces. Worse, Chiov had deployed heavy units along the crossing points, assuming Napoleon would try to construct his own bridge at one of those. But here, on November twenty sixth, a strange salvation appeared a small, almost forgotten village eight miles to the north, Studyanka. The river banks were firmer there, the current slightly calmer, the

enemy presence weaker. No one, neither French engineers nor Russian commanders, had considered this tiny village to be a serious crossing point. But Napoleon, with the instinct of a gambler on the ropes, seized on it instantly. He ordered Marshall Udina to hold the Russians at Borisov with aggressive demonstrations, drum beats, fires, cavalry movements, all the jazz, while his engineers slipped northward

through the freezing night. If the Russians took the bait Studianka might become the miracle that the French needed now. That very next morning, the November twenty seventh, the sun rose faintly behind a gray curtain of clouds. French engineers, led by the legendary General Jean Baptiste Elda, waded into the frigid Berenzena River. They carried not only tools, not timber, but memory, the knowledge of how to build a bridge under fire, you see, like any great general before him,

Going all the way back to Alexander the Great. When Napoleon un understood was the need for experts and specialists in an army. In a pinch, they could save your life, and that's what he planned.

stiff as boards, others swept away beneath the surface. By midday, to Napoleon's astonishment, a light bridge capable of supporting infantry had been completed. A heavier bridge for artillery followed soon after, though it constantly broke under the strain of ice and current. But what battered the most, of course, was that the bridges existed, and they existed before the Russians realized what

was happening. So as soon as the first bridge was declared passable, Oudinot's second Corps surged across men staggered under the far bank like ghosts. Many had not eaten in days, their uniforms little more than rags. Yet after crossing, the French formed ranks and the advance guard struck.

crossing became a desperate fight for survival. On the eastern bank, the French defended the perimeter with fierce determination, recognizing this was it, This was the last throw at the dice. If they didn't win here, there was no going home. Muskets thundered and artillery boomed across the flat, frozen fields, and the white air filled with smoke so thick that men fired blind guided only by sound. Every hour lost meant Russian troops closing in from all directions and behind

the fighting troops. The crossing itself became a nightmare. Tens of thousands of stragglers, soldiers, camp followers, wounded men, civilians were all terrified, crushed together in a mass, Carts overturned, horses thrashed wildly, People slipped on the icy banks and plunged into the dark water below. One French officer would lay described the crossing on the bridge at Studianka as

quote a scene from Dante's Inferno end quote. As artillery shells began to fall among the crowds, panic rippled through the masses. People screamed, shoved, and trampled one another. The narrow wooden span swayed under the weight of thousands. Some fell intentionally hoping maybe icy water would be better than a Russian gunfire. Others prayed, while hour by hour the French continued to cross. Finally, on November the twenty eighth, the Russians launched a massive final assault on their enemy.

Chikov attacked the French western bridge had at ten am, hoping to drive them back into the river. At the same time, Wiggenstein finally broke through the French rearguard and pushed down.

luck held once more. The Russians were brave, but poor coordination and the dense fog blunted their ability to execute the hammer blow. Attacks came, but they only came piecemeal. Some commanders misunderstood orders, others simply waited for reinforcements that weren't coming, and so by evening the French had saved their army. By dawn on November the twin, Napoleon ordered

the bridges destroyed. The army needed distance before the Russians reorganized. Unfortunately, thousands remained still on the eastern bank, deserters, camp followers, and wounded men who just couldn't move quickly enough. Some begged the engineers for just a little more time. Others tried to fight their way across, but according to legend, elbe tears dotting his face, gave the order and the bridges were set ablaze. Flames quickly licked the frost covered planks.

Screams rose as people surged forward, only to collapse into the water when the timbers finally broke and gave way. By the time that the smoke had cleared, the French army had escaped, but the cost had been extraordinary. Estimates varied wildly, but historians believed that somewhere between twenty to forty thousand men, women and children died at the Barnzena River, and for the Russian commanders it was not the final annihilation they had hoped for. For Napoleon, it was a miracle,

but a miracle drenched and suffering. One of the interesting things about the Battle of Bearnzena is that it serves as kind of a paradox of military history. Tactically, Napoleon had won. He saved the core of his army, evaded three converging Russian forces, and prevented total encirclement. But strategically it didn't matter. It was actually kind of pointless. He was already defeated. The Grand army that once number is six hundred thousand now marched toward Vilno only a few

tens of thousands. Many men were unarmed, many were starving, Many wouldn't make it home at all. So almost immediately Napoleon's enemies saw.

in May of eighteen thirteen near Leipzig. Napoleon's young forces endured Prussian attacks that might have shattered lesser forces, but Napoleon consistently counterattacked brilliantly, retaking villages, sometimes at bayonet point. The French were still winning, they were taking heavy casualties, but it was at the Battle of Botsin that things started to turn.

and refused to break. A summer armistice followed, but that gave the coalition only some time to grow stronger, and Napoleon would come to regret it. The coalition now devised what was called the Trattenburg Plan. The goal was pretty simple, don't do battle with Napoleon himself. In fact, attack the French anywhere and everywhere else, wear his marshals down instead, deny him the chance to win a decisive battle copy what Czar Alexander had done. Just wear him down. And

overall the plan worked. Now, in August of eighteen thirteen, after the armistice, the Battle of Dresden showed that Napoleon could still have some glimmer of his old genius. With torrential rain obscuring the battlefield, this time he managed to crush Austrian forces sent against them, throwing them back across.

loss dni Witz on September the sixth. This time Field Marshal Ney, once almost unbelievably unbeatable, was beaten by a Swedish German army, and each defeat finally tightened the noose, leading to the Battle of Leipzig on October sixteenth, eighteen thirteen, sometimes called the Battle of Nations. Now Europe hadn't seen

a clash like this before. Nearly six hundred thousand soldiers across several days, cannon thundered across the plains of Saxony, Napoleon fought with the fierce energy of a man who understood the stakes.

not as quite Apoctalyptic, Napoleon withdrew westward. All of his German allies now abandoned him. His Confederation of the Rhine disintegrated overnight. Now, of course, he had been defeated on French soil, and so Napoleon still had some time left. In early eighteen fourteen, he led a brilliant defensive campaign on French soil, moving with the speed of his youth. In February of eighteen fourteen, at Montmreal he smashed a Prussian force, and in fact, a string of victory started

to rekindle his old legend. Maybe Napoleon could put it back together again. But this time what was different is like a whack a mole game. There was just too much for Napoleon to do. There are armies. The armies of the coalition were just too many. The marshal res resources of basically all of Europe against France this time was just too great. When Napoleon was able to bounce back one army, two others marched past him directly on

to Paris. On March thirty first, eighteen fourteen, Coalition forces entered Paris, the Senate proclaimed, now that Napoleon was deposed, his marshals, exhausted and politically cornered, pleaded with him to abdicate, and he did so. On April to sixth, Napoleon signed an abdication document. The Emperor, who had actually crowned himself, now surrendered everything.