He Became Napoleon’S Genius Son [EN]: Chapter 473

(473) Bagration Charges Across the Great Plains

An unseen observer had watched the battlefields of Europe until this very moment.

-Bang! Bang! Bang!

Following the initial barrage of grenades, artillery fire erupted.

The problem? This artillery fire came from the French Empire, their opponent.

Despite the Russian Empire’s initial success in securing the position and building fortifications, the order to counterattack remained elusive.

Bagration, his anxiety mounting as he observed the situation from the central vanguard, gritted his teeth.

“This is absurd! We’ve been outmaneuvered!”

“We have strict orders to wait, Your Excellency.”

“Damn it, what is Kutuzov even doing! Besides!”

Bagration turned to Barclay, now the Chief of Staff, and his voice rose in frustration. “His Imperial Majesty is urging us on!”

Just then, a messenger dispatched by Tsar Alexander arrived, galloping from the rear.

It was Count Tolstoy. Spotting the commanders, Tolstoy dismounted, his urgency evident.

“Who is in charge here? His Majesty commands an immediate counterattack!”

“The Commander-in-Chief has ordered us to wait.”

“Then, he also inquires how long we are expected to wait, Chief of Staff Barclay!”

Barclay, his expression troubled, relayed Kutuzov’s instructions.

“Until the enemy’s forces are depleted, our cannons are ready, and the enemy’s emperor is within our range.”

Barclay himself had concurred with this strategy.

Though Russia possessed an advantage in numbers and firepower, their opponent was the Grande Armée, conquerors of Western Europe.

Furthermore, the defection of the Don Cossacks to the French had significantly weakened their light cavalry.

Therefore, they had opted for a strategy of attrition rather than a swift, direct assault.

However, if the situation continued to unfold as it was, the outcome of an enemy line infantry charge remained uncertain.

As the Tsar’s messenger and the Chief of Staff departed, Bagration swung himself onto his horse.

Turning to his bewildered aide, Nikolai Ivanovich Raevsky, Bagration declared, “This won’t do. I’m going myself!”

“Sir? Are you disobeying orders?”

“Not at all! I’m going as a messenger to Kutuzov! General Raevsky, you hold the [Bagration Flèche – a fortified position]!”

Before Raevsky could respond, Bagration spurred his horse and rode towards the center.

“No, how can you abandon the fort named after yourself!”

Raevsky clicked his tongue in exasperation.

The Bagration Flèche was the central salient, a position Bagration had painstakingly fortified.

Its elevated construction meant that capturing it required a direct charge by line infantry with bayonets.

However, a purely defensive posture was not in Bagration’s nature.

Having risen to prominence as a cavalryman and become a marshal as a descendant of a foreign royal family, Bagration traversed the camp of 400,000 troops.

-Neigh!

Kutuzov, leisurely sipping coffee in the commander’s tent at the central encampment, blinked his one good eye.

“Hmm, no need to flaunt your hussar [a type of light cavalryman] spirit, is there? To arrive here so directly, as a general.”

“Marshal Kutuzov! How long are we to wait! The enemy is already firing cannons!”

“We will begin our bombardment soon. The artillery of the [vanguard – the front line of troops] is gradually taking its place.”

Kutuzov handed him a telescope. “Take a look.”

Bagration peered through the telescope, startled by what he saw.

Two hundred of the Russian Empire’s old-fashioned cannons, Licornes [a type of howitzer], were being moved into position by men and horses.

But there was a problem.

“Wait, that’s the central point where the enemy’s fire is concentrated.”

“It’s the only way to strike the enemy, given the range.”

“No, the artillerymen will be annihilated!”

Bagration’s expression was one of disbelief, but Kutuzov simply shook his plump face and chuckled.

“We’ve gathered cannons from across the country. A thousand cannons are deployed on this battlefield. Losing two hundred won’t hinder the war effort.”

In that instant, a shell landed near the advancing artillerymen.

-Bang!

Shrapnel tore through the air, throwing soldiers backward.

Yet, the artillerymen barely glanced at the impact, continuing their advance without pause.

Bagration watched, his mouth agape.

Soon, the Licorne cannons were in position and began to fire.

-Whoosh, Bang!

Bagration could only mutter, “They’re really firing.”

“It seems you still underestimate the true strength of the Russian army, Marshal Bagration.”

“And what is that?”

The veteran Kutuzov, who had served in the Russian Imperial Army for decades, flashed his one eye.

“Absolute obedience to orders. Add alcohol to that, and they possess invincible courage.”

Strictly speaking, it was pure submission that prevented them from even contemplating insubordination.

The soldiers of the Russian Imperial Army were primarily peasants.

Whether commoners or serfs, they were simple, uneducated, and revered their masters as if they were gods.

Their will was broken with whips and beatings, ensuring that once an order was given, it was carried out without question.

This was the reason Napoleon encountered soldiers at Marengo who refused to retreat.

Of course, they were not comparable to the elite troops trained under Suvorov.

However, the Tsar’s presence on the battlefield instilled an even stronger sense of obedience in the soldiers.

Suddenly, Kutuzov turned to Bagration. “Are you ready to charge now?”

Bagration’s eyes widened, then a grin spread across his face. “Of course! I’m launching a counterattack now! This eagle of [Georgia – Bagration was a Georgian prince]!”

Georgia, the Russian name for the Kingdom of Georgia.

The prince of a fallen nation, once independent but now a territory of Russia, spurred his horse.

This war was his entire life.

-Neigh!

Finally, the Russian eagle had the opportunity to take flight.

***

Originally, Bagration should have fought valiantly at Austerlitz, Eylau, and Friedland.

“Run, all troops! Today, we will demonstrate the mobile warfare of our Russian army!”

However, Eugene’s alliance with Pavel had altered Bagration’s destiny.

Consequently, the Russian Empire did not participate in Austerlitz.

Furthermore, Eylau and Friedland never became battlefields.

Instead, he fought at Marengo, conquered Finland, and now found himself at Borodino.

He was a general more than capable of facing the Grande Armée, the strongest army of the era.

-Thud, thud, thud!

Bagration’s greatest strength lay in his cavalry regiments.

Even under Suvorov, he led the general cavalry and earned distinction in the conquest of Poland.

The forces under Bagration’s command were a vanguard centered on cavalry.

Suddenly, Bagration spurred his horse and declared, “I will win this war. Raevsky.”

Raevsky, riding close behind, nodded. “Of course. We must protect our homeland!”

“Then, I’m going to Paris to find my wife, Ekaterina.”

“Sir?”

Raevsky’s jaw dropped at the unexpected words, but Bagration spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “If we capture Napoleon, the French Empire will fall! Then, Ekaterina will return too!”

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

Bagration’s wife, Ekaterina, was currently residing in Paris.

This was possible because the Russian Empire was still nominally allied with France.

However, Ekaterina was rumored to be involved with various diplomats, including Metternich.

Rumors even suggested she had recently given birth to a child, and regardless of Bagration’s love for his wife, she had crossed a line.

Divorce would have been the sensible option, but Bagration was thinking differently.

He would destroy the French Empire, the obstacle to his love, and reclaim his wife.

Raevsky was about to suggest that surrendering to France might be quicker when Bagration’s orders rang out.

“Davydov! Scatter the skirmishers! Raevsky, lead the grenadiers! I will lead the hussars myself!”

“Understood! Skirmishers, deploy!”

“Grenadiers, charge in columns!”

The infantry commander Davydov peeled away, sending out the skirmishers.

Raevsky quickly advanced the line infantry forward.

The light cavalry began to maneuver under Bagration’s command.

-Thud, thud, thud!

The skirmishers took the vanguard and scattered, the line infantry advanced, and the cavalry rotated as support.

In the early 19th century, line infantry still dominated the battlefield.

Cavalry was primarily a supporting force, but a troop that could annihilate the enemy if used correctly.

Bagration, not just an impatient lover but also a student of mercenary warfare under Suvorov, understood this well.

Suddenly, the advancing French army came into view.

“Stop them! Seize the fort and defend it!”

It was the line infantry of the 4th Corps, commanded by Soult.

The central fort was on the verge of collapse due to the relentless bombardment.

But Bagration rode forward calmly, a laugh escaping his lips. “I don’t know who that French general is, but his efforts are futile. Because…”

Before he could finish, a deafening roar erupted.

-Bang!

Soult stopped in surprise.

The cannon had been fired.

Even with the Russian Imperial Army closing in.

Bagration roared as he watched the scene unfold. “Our Russian Imperial Army fires cannons even when our allies are in the way! Hahaha!”

From behind Bagration’s corps, the artillery corps commanded by Colonel Toll unleashed a devastating volley.

-Bang! Bang! Bang!

Cavalry, infantry, and skirmishers fell victim to the bombardment.

The problem was that it did not distinguish between friend and foe.

As the French soldiers stood in stunned disbelief, Bagration initiated his cavalry charge.

“Over the fort, destroy the enemy’s lines! Let’s go!”

In that moment, the ranks of the 4th Corps line infantry shattered.

***

From the main force, atop a hill, the Emperor observed the front through a telescope.

“Your Majesty, it would be best to retreat for now!”

Lannes rushed to Emperor Napoleon, his voice urgent.

In the original timeline, Napoleon remained far in the rear, ensuring his safety even if the vanguard was pushed back.

But now, Napoleon was at the front.

Nevertheless, Napoleon calmly assessed the situation, a smirk playing on his lips, and turned to Berthier. “Eugene hasn’t sufficiently broken the enemy’s vanguard. Isn’t that right, old goose [Berthier’s nickname]?”

“They are too numerous. Roughly 400,000, including the reserves.”

“Or, is there something else he’s aiming for?”

Napoleon tilted his head, even after Berthier’s explanation.

Among the battles Eugene had directly commanded, Napoleon had witnessed Rivoli, Marengo, and Austerlitz.

What Napoleon admired most about Eugene’s command was not tactical ingenuity, maneuvers, or swift attacks.

It was his risk avoidance.

Eugene possessed an uncanny ability to avoid danger, even when seemingly throwing himself into perilous situations.

The reason he willingly sent his beloved son to the vanguard was his faith in that ability.

But strangely, he seemed to be faltering in the face of Bagration’s charge.

Was it truly his skill, or was there a hidden scheme?

“Either way, it doesn’t matter. We need to move the flanks. Send messengers to Masséna and Augereau. Louis.”

Napoleon shrugged and addressed his chief aide.

This battle was not a clash of divisions or corps, but a grand engagement between entire army groups.

If Eugene faltered, he simply needed support.

And if Eugene had a specific objective, he would pursue it independently, freeing Napoleon from worry.

On the other hand, Louis Charles, Eugene’s brother-in-law, asked anxiously, “What message should I send, Your Majesty?”

Masséna commanded the right wing.

Augereau, the left wing.

They were the marshals in charge of the flanks of the French Imperial Army.

Napoleon twisted his lips and said, “I grant them full authority. Advance, retreat, all will be to their glory.”

Louis Charles was taken aback by the vague order and replied, “Ah, understood, Your Majesty!”

It was an imperial order, so he could not disobey.

But how would the army move with such ambiguous instructions?

Just after Louis Charles departed to deliver the message, Lannes clicked his tongue. “Aren’t you being too flamboyant, Your Majesty?”

“No, it’s useless to give specific instructions to Masséna and Augereau. Besides, the decisive moment hasn’t arrived yet.”

“That’s when I advance. When will that be?”

Napoleon stared at the Russian main camp beyond the fort, his eyes narrowing. “When the Russian commander-in-chief deliberately weakens their lines to lure us in.”

The Russian commander-in-chief, Kutuzov, was waiting for Napoleon to commit his forces.

And Napoleon was waiting for the same moment.

A battlefield where hundreds of thousands of troops clashed, the instant when the power reached its breaking point.

That was when the victor of Borodino would be decided.

-Bang!

The sound of two hundred cannons echoed across the battlefield.