Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

Alvinczi couldn’t help but feel a chill of fear.

Thankfully, his orders hadn’t yet been issued; otherwise, when Cosdanovic’s side was about to launch an attack, a sudden assault from behind would have spelled disaster.

However, he quickly calmed himself down.

The reason his army had been marching so slowly was to maintain a neat formation.

This meant that even if the right wing were suddenly attacked, the other units could quickly respond, preventing a chaotic situation.

Alvinczi then looked at the map and asked the aide beside him:

“Which corps is closest to Cosdanovic?”

The aide flipped through a notebook: “It’s General Czweig’s Galicia Corps, Marshal.”

Alvinczi nodded, instructing the Order Officer: “Czweig only has over 7,000 men, which might not be enough. Let the Borlard Cavalry Camp assist him and reinforce the right wing.

“Tell him not to rush into a decisive battle with the French Army. We have a numerical advantage, so try to deplete the enemy through positional warfare.”

“Yes, Marshal!”

The Order Officer turned and left, and Alvinczi’s attendant brought a man in plain clothes before him.

The man, dressed as a lumberjack, saluted the Commander and took a note from the seam in his collar, handing it to the attendant:

“Marshal, General Bajahaza encountered the French Army this morning at the Avisio River.

“The opposition numbers over 15,000. The General is currently delaying them using the terrain, but requests reinforcements as soon as possible.”

Alvinczi frowned immediately.

The French simultaneously launched surprise attacks on both his left and right wings.

Fortunately, Bajahaza responded in time, giving him room to react calmly.

He then had a sense that something was amiss.

How did the Bajahaza Corps meet the enemy at the Avisio River? The left wing was supposed to stay within half a day’s march from the central army, yet the Avisio River was ten kilometers away.

He couldn’t be bothered with these details for now, and told a nearby Order Officer: “Have the Buch Corps go to the left wing for reinforcement. Remember, conduct positional warfare as much as possible.”

Bajahaza’s courier then remembered something else and quickly said: “Marshal, Archduke Karl asked me to remind you that the Avisio River is not the main direction of the French offensive. They might attack from other places, so you should expand the reconnaissance range…”

Alvinczi impatiently waved a hand. That young royal had only been on a few battlefields and was already pointing fingers at him.

The French had already started attacking the right wing, needing no reminder of that.

…

East of Morvino Town.

Cosdanovic had already fallen into a bitter struggle.

He initially planned to stabilize his formation and slowly retreat to the vicinity of the Paganel Mountain for defense.

His troops numbered over 20,000 soldiers, which would absolutely last a day or two if defending based on the mountain’s terrain. By then, reinforcements sent by Marshal Alvinczi should arrive.

However, the three regiments he left as rear guards, totaling over 4,000 men, were overrun by a combined infantry and cannon assault in less than half an hour.

This forced him to abandon the plan and set up defensive lines on the spot.

Yet the French cannons suddenly appeared on his flank and began a fierce bombardment.

Cosdanovic watched through his binoculars as his soldiers, terrified by the cannonballs, crouched on the ground holding their heads, his temples throbbing. Good lord! Those cannons were two miles away just ten minutes ago; did they fly here?

“Go and see how long until reinforcements arrive!”

He turned and shouted at the aide, and then heard the cannon fire from the front lines suddenly cease.

In panic, he raised his binoculars and saw lines of French assault columns pierce through their own chaotic infantry ranks, like dense arrows.

Soon, several thousand French soldiers formed into a horizontal line in less than a minute, and muzzle flashes started flickering continuously along a battle line over a kilometer long.

Almost instantly, the right-side defenses that had been battered by artillery collapsed.

A mass of soldiers screamed and stumbled around chaotically, panic spreading rapidly with the French volleys, and soon even the lower-ranking Austrian officers joined in the flight…

To be fair, Cosdanovic’s response after the surprise attack was not the problem.

Yet the sustained time for all his corps was less than a fifth of his expectations.

This was unavoidable; earlier, Bolieu and Melas had worn down the main Austrian forces significantly, and the soldiers sent here to Northern Italy this time were mostly newly conscripted serfs mobilized by Vienna’s decree.

These men had undergone less than three months of training and could barely handle a flintlock gun. Just hearing the artillery fire made their legs go weak, making it impossible to frontally confront the French regular troops.

Before long, Cosdanovic saw from afar a unit of French Cavalry racing toward him, prompting him to hurriedly mount a saddle and retreat southeast, flanked by his guards.

That’s how it was, and yet, before noon, Napoleon suddenly found that there were no organized enemy units in front of him anymore.

He frowned at the M1722 Austrian flintlock guns scattered all over the battlefield and gazed into the distance, temporarily questioning if this was an Alvinczi ploy to lure him into a trap.

He turned to Lucien and said: “Have Lieutenant Colonel Grouchy take the cavalry camp to confirm the enemy’s positions.”

“Yes, General.”

A short while later, Grouchy returned to report that they had encountered the approximately 10,000-strong Czweig Corps sent by Alvinczi to reinforce the right wing. Aside from that, there were no other Austrian Army ambushes discovered.

Napoleon irritably flicked his riding whip. Failing to pursue the routed troops earlier might allow the Cosdanovic Corps to retreat in formation back to Alvinczi.

Just as he was about to plan an attack on Czweig, a courier from Desai hurried over to report:

“General, the day before yesterday at noon, Wilmze led nearly 20,000 Austrian troops to break out from Mantua…”

Napoleon’s expression darkened immediately: “What’s going on? Why is this being reported just now?”

The courier, head lowered, replied: “Wilmze broke out from the east, which is in General Ta Weng’s defense area. Lieutenant Colonel Desai only noticed something was wrong last night.”

The expanse of the Mantua Fortress is substantial, and Desai’s south-side command is four kilometers away from Ta Weng’s defense area. Without proactive reporting from the Sardinian Army, Desai would have difficulty knowing the situation there in a timely manner.

“Damn! Those idiotic Sardinians!”

Napoleon cursed and then looked at the map beside him: “Ogero still hasn’t managed to come for the encirclement—is it possible he encountered Wilmze?

“Damn! Looks like the battle plan needs to be adjusted…”

But this time, he guessed wrong.

Ogero hadn’t encountered Wilmze—by the Austrian army’s speed, it would take them two days just to travel from Mantua to here.

His troops were currently engaged in fierce battle with the Austrian Army led by Archduke Karl at the Avisio River.

(Supplementing yesterday’s chapter. There are still two chapters tonight. Mwah.)