He Became Napoleon’S Genius Son [EN]: Chapter 127

(127) Murat Shatters the Austrian Blade

Night fell, the sun setting.

“Halt the march for now. We’ll set up camp here tonight! Everyone, unload the tents from the wagons!”

General Laudon of the Northeast Army of the Alvinczy Corps issued the order.

Though ambushed during their advance, Laudon’s forces remained largely intact.

Eight regiments of line infantry, two regiments of auxiliary hussars, and a battalion of artillery.

Eugene’s assault had only slowed them down, not dealt a significant blow.

However, the delay meant that General Laudon’s division-sized unit had to stop.

-Thump. Thump. Thump.

The sound of wagons halting and tents being unloaded was deafening.

Unlike the French army, which often bivouacked [camped without tents] to save time, the Austrian army strictly adhered to regulations.

This wasn’t out of concern for the soldiers, but a principle to preserve combat effectiveness.

However, adhering to this principle inevitably took time.

The regimental commanders and battalion commanders busily directed their soldiers, preparing the campsite.

Adjutant Samuel Köblös, returning from inspecting the camp preparations, spoke to Laudon.

“There seemed to be some commotion in the highlands around evening.”

“Perhaps it was a clash with General Xavier’s or General Bravek’s units.”

“Shouldn’t we advance further, General Laudon?”

Laudon considered carefully before nodding.

“Very well, Brigadier General Samuel Köblös. We’ll resume the march at dawn. Ensure the sentries maintain a strict watch!”

Laudon’s orders were sound.

Night marches were avoided even in modern times.

Setting up sentries and maintaining vigilance were standard procedure.

The problem was that their opponent didn’t play by the rules.

-Step, step, step!

The sound of footsteps was loud enough to be heard near the command post.

“Who’s there!”

Just as Laudon was about to rise, Köblös rushed forward, then quickly returned.

“General! It’s the enemy!”

“I know that! All troops, prepare for battle! Distribute ammunition! Send messengers to the regimental commanders!”

“No, it’s not just a few!”

Köblös screamed.

“It seems the entire enemy force is upon us!”

Before they could react, gunfire erupted, shattering the night.

-Bang! Clank, bang! Clank, bang!

In the mountains, where dusk had just settled.

The campfires lit for the night had become targets.

Most importantly, Laudon’s forces were completely unprepared for an engagement.

They certainly didn’t expect to be surrounded and fired upon in a semi-circular formation.

“Surrounded! We’re surrounded! Aaaagh!”

“Prepare to return fire! No, uh, get the cannons ready!”

“Cannons at night? We can’t see anything! Help me!”

The young General, Baron Laudon, shouted in panic.

“F, form a square! Quickly! If we, if we stick together, we can resist!”

But when the campfires spread, illuminating the darkness, Laudon gaped.

-Whoosh!

At least 10,000, perhaps over 30,000 men.

Infantry with guns were lined up across the hills, valleys, and mountains.

In short, it wasn’t a small unit, but the enemy’s main force.

Laudon’s eyes widened.

“Has Bonaparte really come himself!”

Of course, only half of his assessment was correct.

Laudon was positioned on the northeastern approach to the Rivoli plateau.

The weakness of this route was the Adige River to the southeast.

The troops that should have been guarding it were Rosselmini’s infantry.

However, Rosselmini’s forces, attacked by Napoleon, Laharpe, and Lannes, had been annihilated.

A division had pierced this gap like a drill and rushed ahead.

It was Masséna’s vanguard division.

Masséna, seeing the torches in the darkness, gleefully shouted.

“Fire! Tonight, we must destroy at least three enemy units!”

In truth, the French army also avoided night marches whenever possible.

The risk of injury during the march was high, the soldiers’ fatigue increased, and the possibility of a counterattack was greater.

However, Laudon’s forces had been attacked by Eugene beforehand, making them highly alert, only to relax their guard.

It was, for Masséna, the perfect condition for a night ambush.

But just as they were excitedly loading and firing their muskets, a white flag appeared beyond the torches.

“White flag! We surrender! Don’t shoot!”

One hour after the attack began.

With the enemy barely putting up a fight, a white flag was raised.

Slightly smacking his lips, Masséna turned to his adjutant, Serboni.

“This is coming too easily. Surely they’re not pretending to surrender and then going to shoot, are they?”

“Baron Laudon is an aristocrat. He wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“Hmph, the revolutionary army trusting an aristocrat. That’s a bit funny.”

Masséna chuckled, then ordered Brigadier General Brune, his direct subordinate.

“Hey! Brune! Disarm the enemy and tie them all up! Report to the commander that Laudon’s entire division has surrendered! And we’re advancing at full speed. Leave the rest to Laharpe!”

Not completely annihilating the enemy was a bit of a shame, but surrender was just as good.

More than anything, Masséna, as Napoleon’s vanguard, had to be the [tip of the spear] tonight.

The Alvinczy Corps wouldn’t expect them to break through diagonally.

A lance that would pierce the Empire’s blade in an instant.

“Hurry! Tonight, we must destroy at least three enemy units! Today, we end Rivoli!”

Masséna, the man loved by the goddess of victory, began to race through Rivoli.

***

At this moment, a night bombardment was taking place.

Shells known as canister shots [shells filled with small projectiles].

In other words, anti-personnel shells.

It was, of course, Marmont, Napoleon’s artillery commander, who was firing them.

-Crackle!

The shell, resembling a net, was fired, and the fragments inside scattered upon impact.

Some shells even ignited and set fires as they exploded.

It was literally an anti-personnel shell designed solely to kill people.

“Shrapnel! Take cover! Aaaagh!”

The bombardment position was right below the Monte Baldo mountain range.

It was firing from low ground to high ground, but it was possible to fire at a high angle.

However, it was still the middle of the night, making it difficult to gauge the trajectory and distance.

That’s why Marmont would choose shrapnel.

Even if it didn’t hit the enemy directly, it could still inflict damage.

Night marches, night raids, and night bombardments.

Truly, Napoleon’s subordinates were doing everything they were told not to do at the military academy.

Suddenly, Duroc, Napoleon’s adjutant and Marmont’s friend, who was inspecting the cannons, asked.

“Marmont, is it okay to fire like this?”

“Why not? Duroc, which do you think is more miserable, being hit by a cannonball or being hit by shrapnel?”

“Neither is good.”

Marmont chuckled and looked at the high ground.

“It’s hard to increase the number of enemy prisoners here. Besides, the Commander is going to draw an even bigger picture. So, we have to reduce the enemy as much as possible.”

Duroc tilted his head at those words.

“Picture? Wasn’t conquering Northern Italy our ultimate goal?”

“It was until Alvinczy came. But if Alvinczy is defeated here, the situation changes.”

“How so?”

Marmont’s eyes narrowed.

“The Brenner Pass that lured Alvinczy. What if we actually cross it?”

Only then did Duroc realize what Marmont meant.

Originally, Alvinczy had rushed here to defend the Brenner Pass [a key mountain pass in the Alps].

But if Alvinczy was defeated, the Brenner Pass would be breached.

It was the gateway to Munich, the southern part of the Holy Roman Empire.

Marmont whistled and said.

“It becomes possible to cross the Alps and directly strike the Empire. So, we have to fire away!”

As if in response, the cannon fire intensified.

-Boom!

Amidst the shelling, the time for battle was drawing to a close.

***

People should work during the day and sleep at night.

This was common sense that Alvinczy knew.

And even on the battlefield, this common sense wasn’t much different.

Because both allies and enemies had their limits of stamina, visibility was limited, and everyone would at least set up sentries.

Above all, the Monte Baldo mountain range where Alvinczy was now located was clearly the rear of the battlefield.

There was no reason to hear such a roar.

-Boom!

At first, Alvinczy was too nervous and mistook it for a nightmare.

But as time passed, the roar only grew louder.

Eventually, Alvinczy couldn’t stand it and got up.

At that moment, an adjutant rushed into the commander’s tent.

“What is that sound?”

The adjutant, Chief of Staff Beyeroder, cried out, not even wearing his glasses properly.

“Commander! Something terrible has happened! It’s shelling!”

“What? Shelling? What shelling at night? Has the armory exploded by mistake? Find out exactly!”

“It’s definitely shelling, Your Excellency!”

Only then did the expressionless Alvinczy’s face crack for the first time.

“Bravek! What the hell is Bravek doing! Tell him to retreat immediately!”

He deliberately sent the Bravek infantry, which was practically his direct regiment, to the front.

If the enemy pushed in from the Rivoli plateau, the Bravek infantry could defend as the first line.

Above all, there was Xavier’s Cuirassier [heavy cavalry] nearby the Bravek infantry.

If something happened, shouldn’t they have contacted the commander first?

At that moment, flames spread.

-Whoosh!

The shells seemed to be incendiary shells.

The shells that fell throughout the camp scattered the bonfires in disarray.

In the wake of that, the Monte Baldo mountain range was engulfed in flames.

The mountain in the darkness illuminated by the flames was filled with soldiers.

Not allies, but enemies, the French army in blue uniforms.

“This can’t be.”

Suddenly, Danenfeld, who was commanding in his pajamas from the front, ran over.

“The Bravek army is already engaged in combat! They’re attacking head-on from the plateau!”

“How did they get here? And who are those attacking our headquarters!”

“It seems to be Bonaparte himself!”

At that moment, a flag could be seen fluttering beyond the torches in the distance.

-Flutter!

The tricolor flag of the French Revolutionary Army.

Not the flags of each regiment or division.

The flag symbolizing the nation was fluttering.

Masséna had Laudon surrender and captured Bravek, and Napoleon had directly charged through the empty path.

With Laharpe’s division as his direct infantry division, and Marmont’s artillery fully mobilized.

Alvinczy, who didn’t know the entire strategic structure, was certain of one thing.

The plan to encircle and annihilate the enemy on the Rivoli plateau had failed.

Alvinczy gritted his teeth and ordered.

“Retreat.”

“Yes? Your Excellency. General Laudon, General Rosselmini, and Prince Xavier have not yet been confirmed!”

“Bravek is on the verge of annihilation. It’s clear even in the dark. Then what happened to the other units?”

Alvinczy shook his head, looking at the Bravek forces being attacked by Masséna’s division below the mountain.

“They’re all dying in the darkness.”

Now that Monte Baldo had been breached, the situation was clear.

Alvinczy’s plan had failed, and Napoleon had seized the initiative.

Resisting would only make them targets for the enemy’s fire.

At this point, they had to leave the area and find a clue for a counterattack.

“There’s no answer but to retreat immediately. Our headquarters must survive to reorganize the army. Hurry!”

Even in defeat, Alvinczy was about to issue a calm order.

-Doo-doo-doo!

Suddenly, the sound of hooves shook the camp.

“Murat has come to Rivoli!”

The Austrian line infantry had been temporarily scattered by the shelling.

Napoleon had ordered a cavalry charge, not missing that gap.

Naturally, cavalrymen were falling off their horses everywhere due to the night charge.

Nevertheless, Murat didn’t care.

Anyway, he was fine.

Murat roared, waving his saber at the front.

“Trample them all!”

He had entered the headquarters tent too quickly, and no one could stop him properly.

In this situation, even Alvinczy couldn’t respond calmly.

Hurriedly retreating in confusion, Alvinczy shouted.

“Wait, I’m Commander Alvinczy! I formally request a surrender!”

However, Murat didn’t know German.

-Shuk!

The saber slashed Alvinczy’s neck, and the hooves trampled Danenfeld.

Murat didn’t stop and continued to charge.

Alvinczy, with blurred eyes, twisted his lips, watching Murat’s back.

Because Alvinczy, who knew a little French unlike Murat, recalled Murat’s words earlier.

“Hmph, this isn’t Rivoli…!”

North of Rivoli, the Monte Baldo mountain range.

The Austrian blade, Alvinczy, died by Murat’s blade.

Far away, dawn was beginning to break.