Chapter 1699 - 1605: The Fearsome "Ragtag Army

Chapter 1699: Chapter 1605: The Fearsome "Ragtag Army

1802, July 29th.

The pale yellow morning sun had yet to fully envelop the Tiber River when Denibol was the first to charge out from beside the massive stone base of the Cecilia Metella tomb.

Behind him followed 600 soldiers from the Third Dragoon Regiment of Montpellier.

It was a good 30 kilometers away from the mouth of the Trajan Canal, and Denibol thought he wouldn’t reach the vicinity of Rome until this afternoon. But Lieutenant Kamas had miraculously managed to acquire three steam-powered tugboats—according to him, these things had only been introduced this year on the Tiber River, and there were only six or seven.

The steamship’s speed was incredibly fast. They had arrived at the southern suburbs of Rome by twilight yesterday and had rested here for the night.

The troop, waving flags of various kinds, quickly passed through a vineyard. Denibol, looking through his telescope, could already see the majestic Aurelian Wall outside Rome, and frowned at Kamas: "Why don’t we attack from the north? It would only take an extra two or three hours to circle around."

The southern section of the Aurelian Wall was the best preserved because historically few foreign enemies attacked Rome from here. The northern wall, however, had been dismantled over the millennia, and successive popes were unwilling to spend money to repair it.

Kamas gave a sly smile, "Because no one would expect a surprise attack on the south. The Neapolitans have only stationed a little over 400 soldiers over a stretch of nearly 5 kilometers."

Denibol raised his telescope again, "But the damn stone wall is at least 10 meters high! Luckily, the moats have been filled and planted with wheat."

"You need not worry about the wall," Kamas said confidently, "It’s like a broken fishing net up close."

"What fishing net? Just tell me how to get into the city."

Kamas looked at the roads in front of him, casually pointing to one of them, "Just take this one, all the way."

Half an hour later, Denibol widened his eyes, surprised at the sight of the more than two-meter-wide gap in the city wall, and asked the Security Bureau agent, "Did you dig this in advance?"

"I’d love to say yes, to show off a bit, but actually it was the vineyard owners in the city who dug it. To transport grapes out of the city with less tax, they hacked at the walls. And the merchants in the city, they often collaborated, there are at least seven or eight such ’passages’ in the wall."

"Thank Jesus. But doesn’t the Holy See care?"

"Of course they do, they allocate funds for repairs every year, but the officials in charge of the project just have someone nail boards on the inside, and the remaining funds go to them."

"They’re really good people." Denibol pointed to the Neapolitan army tents below the city, nodded toward the order officer, and said, "Order Company 1 to charge through in a column to control the breach in the wall. Companies 3 and 4 provide suppressive fire on the flanks. The rest follow me into the city to set up defenses..."

At 7:45 in the morning, the Neapolitan garrison, just waking up, was suddenly hit by a fierce volley of rifled gunfire.

The Third Dragoon Regiment of Montpellier had once fought under Napoleon in Italy, and setting foot on the Apennine Peninsula again brought back the feeling of chasing the elite Austrian Royal Legion into disarray.

The 60 to 70 Neapolitan soldiers defending the area hadn’t reacted before nearly half were shot, and the rest didn’t even dare to flee, directly dropping to their knees in surrender.

Denibol looked at the two four-pound cannons just set up and patted Kamas, "Please use more accurate terminology next time. In this case, it should be called ’virtually no defense’.

Yes, he had brought two cannons for the assault.

Thanks to the continuous improvement in France’s alloy steel manufacturing, the weight of the four-pound cannon had been reduced to 180 kilograms, and two horses could directly carry it.

The cannon mounts would be assembled on the battlefield, and according to the French artillery manual, all firing preparations, including loading the first cannonball, were to be completed within 35 minutes.

Denibol quickly entered the city through the breach and then turned east for a minor battle, taking control of the main gate on the southern wall—Saint Paul Gate.

Once they found the Prince, they needed to retreat quickly from here.

At 9:00 in the morning, the Neapolitan army’s left flank commander, Colonel Galliard, was loudly urging his soldiers to speed up. Due to the sudden weakening of the rebel defense on the south side, the overall commander had ordered him to gather forces for a decisive attack near St. Barbarina Church.

Right then, gunshots from the southwest caught his attention.

The rebel attacks had significantly weakened in the past two days, mostly just sporadic urban warfare, but the gunshots just now were clearly from hundreds of people exchanging fire.

"It’s Captain Marchi’s sector," he signaled the staff officer, "send someone to see what’s going on."

Before his order reached the cavalry, Marchi’s courier rushed over, flustered, and said to him, "Commander, we’ve just been hit. Saint Paul Gate has already fallen."

Colonel Galliard was furious, "You had over two hundred men, it’s barely been two hours since daybreak, and Marchi has already been routed by the rebels?"

"No, sir, it wasn’t the rebels, it was..." The courier hesitated, unsure, "Seems like the Genoa navy and Milan troops, anyway, they were very fierce. Oh, and they have cannons."

"Fool, that must be a rebel trick!" Colonel Galliard suppressed his anger, thought for a moment, and ordered the staff officer, "The rebel main force should be near Saint Paul Gate."

"Very likely, sir, otherwise Marchi’s line wouldn’t have been broken so quickly."

"Order the lead troops to shift southwest immediately, Cavalry Scout flank from the east, don’t let them escape!"

"Yes, sir!"

In the south of Rome, at St. Paul’s Gate Square, Kamas pointed to a military map, "The rebel headquarters is likely at the Saint Sabina Temple Cathedral, and His Highness is probably there. Even if not, the people there must know his location."

Denibol nodded, just about to order an advance to the east side of the Tiber River, when he heard a series of urgent whistles.

It was the signal of discovering an enemy attack.

"What’s going on?"

The staff officer rushed over, shouting, "Commander, a large number of Neapolitan troops have appeared in the direction of Ostia Avenue, at least a thousand. There are also enemy forces near St. Saba Church."

Denibol frowned, "I take back what I said earlier, the Neapolitans must be setting up an ambush for us."

"This is getting tricky. We absolutely can’t let them pin us down."

He looked at the company commanders standing beside him, gave his horse whip a forceful wave, "Gather the whole army, prepare for a counterassault! We must crush the enemy in the shortest time possible!"

The Neapolitan commander had no idea that the "rebels" would be so ferocious.

His main force was just about to launch an attack when suddenly more than 500 rebels charged, conducted a single volley, and then initiated a bayonet assault.

The 1,200 or so men he led were routed instantly upon contact with those rebels.