Napoleon in 1812

Chapter 58

10. Defense master, offense genius – 4

“Fire!”

Booom! Boom! Boom!! Boom! Boooom!

Brigadier General Shtelhoun and his British troops guarding the Irish farm were greatly surprised by the French shelling that began much earlier than they had expected. The stone walls hit by the shell collapsed and the fence of the farm fell like a sorghum.

“When will our artillery battalions and reinforcements arrive?”

“I’ve sent a messenger to the commander, but… they need more time! At least 30 minutes to an hour…”

“Damn it! I can’t believe these bastards are shooting at us! Hold your ground! If you deviate from the battle line, you will immediately be charged with desertion!”

However, there was a big difference between those with and without cannons.

The coalition had not yet provided sufficient artillery support to each units except for the main battery in the front. This was because the preparation and deployment of the artillery was not finished. The soldiers’ morale was sinking because the enemies were shooting with cannons so close, and their side was bare-handed.

Boom!

“Uh… uh!?…”

“The stone wall is collapsing!”

“Ugh, argh!”

When the shell hit the center of the rocky stone wall, a part of it collapsed, scattering dust and stones. The soldiers guarding behind it were hit by falling stones and rocks. Their colleagues hurriedly removed the stones, but most of the soldiers involved in the accident were killed or seriously injured.

“Hey, don’t mess with the lines!”

“The enemy is right next to us, what are you doing now!!”

Brigadier General Shtelhoun and the other officers tried to keep the soldiers under control by shouting, but it was difficult for them to remain calm as they were mentally shocked to see their comrades crushed to death by a stone wall.

The French could not miss this opportunity. Brigadier General Foy clenched his fists and ordered.

“March! March forward!”

The French Imperial army, dressed in blue uniforms, began to advance to the marching song played by the drummers and trumpeters. The British riflemen could fire with excellent range and accuracy, but the French pushed forward. Judging that they had won, their faces were showing a longing for victory rather than fear.

“Shoot-!”

“Shoot!”

Musketeers from both sides fired.

British and French soldiers hit by bullets fell bleeding. But the British were more confident than the French in winning in a shooting battle. In addition, even if some of them collapsed, they had an advantageous position because they were able to shoot while covering their bodies behind stone walls and fences.

But the British, at least on this battlefield, could not gain the upper hand.

Boom! Booom!!

There were many reasons, including the will to fight, morale, and the quality of the soldiers, but the most decisive was the power of artillery support from 12 cannons. No matter how good the British were at shooting, the king of the battlefield in this era was not a gun but a cannon. The difference was even more important when troops with cannons were facing troops without any.

The British guarding the farm had no cannons, so the French artillery was not facing any risk of being fired at by the enemy artillery. The French artillery, well-known for being the best in Europe, was able to prepare the cannons more calmly than anyone else from a safe distance, and it soon turned out to be an indicator of an astonishing accuracy.

They shot, and the shells flew, swept away the British army’s battle lines and knocked down the stone wall, so even the masters of shooting, the red coats, could not do anything. There was an overwhelming exchange that could not normally be seen on an open battlefield.

The British battle lines shattered where the shells swept, and more and more troops were unable to withstand the French fire and were on the verge of collapsing. If Brigadier General Shtelhoun and the other officers had not risked their lives and taken the lead, showing Noblesse Oblige, the British troops on the farm would have been defeated earlier.

But they were also almost at their limit.

“Brigadier General, here’s what I think! Now is the time to give these bastards a taste of French bayonet!”

“I was just thinking the same!”

Brigadier General Foy decided to accept the advice of the officers, and to deal a strong blow with a bayonet charge.

Occupying the Irish farm would open the way to the Wellesley Corps. Deep anticipation and excitement appeared on everyone’s faces at the thought of being able to focus on an important point that could decide between their victory or defeat in this battle. It was then.

“There are enemy reinforcements approaching, 1.1km southwest from here!”

It seemed that the enemy command dispatched support troops to this key point, showing a very quick response. They were now in a difficult situation.

“What’s their size?”

“I identified the flags of four different regiments. But there could be more of them. And they brought field artillery.”

“With the current size of the brigade, it would be hard to deal with them… There is nothing we can do. Let’s get out of here.”

In the past, the Imperial army used to value sacrifices for achieving strategic goals. For the soldiers, it was impossible to retreat without fighting even if they could not match the enemy’s power.

But the current Napoleon Corps was different. They moved based on ‘efficiency’ rather than ‘purpose’. Whenever the opponent seemed stronger than them and that the damage from the fight would be too much, they could withdraw at the judgment of the field commander.

Brigadier General Foy’s brigade and the artillery battalions withdrew but their morale remained intact. Because they did not think of themselves as losers. And that was truly the case. Brigadier General Shtelhoun and the British army at the Irish Farm, who could not fight back, had no choice but to look at the French troops retreating with empty eyes.

All the corpses nearby belonged to Red Coats.

The Congreve rockets that were all fired at once into the early morning sky poured down, temporarily covering the sky. The roar and explosion centered on the French battery. The artillery that had been regularly firing shells at the main forces of the coalition faltered for a while.

“Now! Fire!!”

Boom! Boom! Booom! Boom! Boom! Booom!

A fierce counterattack from the Allied battery aimed at this brief absence of fire. It was the moment when the British cannons, which had only been beaten so far, threw up their anger. And at the same time, the French march, which had been advancing without hesitation over the Arlanzón River, was stopped for the first time.

“You are truly the best strategist God has ever made!”

Despite being in the worst situation possible, allowing the enemy to strike them defenseless, losing key points and being exposed on both sides, Arthur Wellesley eventually managed to rebalance the situation and received the praise of officers. Now the biggest crisis was gone. The Allies succeeded in limiting the French advance to a few routes.

If the batteries and infantry regiments were concentrated there and fired with the artillery, they could create the foundations for a huge counterattack.

Pooooooo

A trumpet was heard from the French side announcing the retreat, just when the sun had fully risen.

The blue waves that had been sweeping the Allied forces stopped and began to step back. The coalition soldiers, officers and generals cheered and raised their hands when they saw it.

Only then could Arthur Wellesley sit down in a chair and smile helplessly.

“What a bloody first battle.”

French officers clung to Napoleon, who ordered the retreat, and spoke in unison.

“We’re still winning in most of the fighting areas. If we push in the troops that haven’t been deployed so far, we would be able to overpower them. Please reconsider the retreat…”

Napoleon gave them a pathetic look. What to do with these hot-blooded guys…

“Gentlemen, keep your eyes open and look at the battlefield. They already have a solid defensive formation. The advantage of surprise is almost gone, and everything that remains now is only a bloody battle between the infantry.”

Napoleon, of course, could certainly push them away if he took the baton himself and ran with all his heart. This battle could lead to victory. However, if that happened, they would have to bear enormous damage that would overshadow their victory. To that extent, the current defense posture of the Wellesley Corps was solid.

Napoleon’s course of action, as always, was to win with as less damage as possible. Considering that hostile countries such as Russia, Prussia and Austria remained strong, he needed to stick to it even more.

“Sometimes an honorable retreat is better than a wounded victory. I think that’s it for today’s battle. Let the weary soldiers rest and retreat back to the north of the Arlanzón River, they won’t be able to chase us.”

No officer objected to his words.

Napoleon had proved to be right numerous times even though he might take strange decisions. Napoleon, packing his luggage and climbing onto his horse, was thinking of Arthur Wellesley, his rival in this battle, who might be leading his troops passionately on the other side.

‘It must have been an unexpected surprise for him. Nevertheless, I didn’t expect him to fight back so well. Arthur Wellesley is a better commander than I thought.’

As Napoleon recalled how the Allied forces changed in real time and skillfully responded to the French offensive under Arthur Wellesley’s rational command, he remembered one person. Alexander Suvorov, the legendary Russian Marshal who was almost the only one in the world against whom he had struggled.

“If his defense is at least at the same level as that old mastermind, should I make a strategic plan for the future?”

“Your Majesty?”

“I’m talking to myself, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

While saying so, Napoleon drove his horse.

Even during its retreat, the French army remained unwavering. No one thought that the backs of the French soldiers going back the way they had march were that of losers.

After eventually managing to stop the French surprise attack, the coalition forces now had to face the reality in front of them. Listening to the officers’ reports, Arthur Wellesley rubbed his tired eyes. It was estimated that about 1,200 French soldiers were killed on the battlefield. On the other hand, the Allies suffered 6,800 casualties, 19 damaged cannons, and lost 6 flags. About 10% of their fighting power had evaporated.

Most of the casualties were British soldiers who fought on the front lines. Considering that their skill level and values were higher than those of the Spanish and Portuguese forces, the actual damage might be even greater.

But there was a more painful loss than this.

“…A total of 26 warehouses storing war supplies have been destroyed. Colonel Eureth, a logistical officer, went to the Lord’s side in the explosion. About 2,500 horses were killed as nearby stables burned down. Most of them were horses used to pull wagons and carts.”

It was the result of the French artillery’s precise aiming skills.

He did not know how they located them, but they managed to fire shells at the coalition bases in the midst of chaos. It was a great misfortune for the Allied forces that shells fell on the explosives storage and burned down all the surrounding warehouses.

“It’s also a problem that a lot of gunpowder and food have disappeared, but the bigger difficulty is the loss of drinking water storage.”

Normally, drinking water could be supplied from the Arlanzón River, so it was not a big problem.

However, the area of the basin was contaminated with blood, corpses, and manure due to the battle fought at dawn. They could not drink the water from there. Wellesley already felt a lump in his throat. All the faces of the Allied generals were dark.

We won but we lost. This was the report for the first battle against Napoleon.

@ Author’s notes:

The French casualties estimated by the British forces is only based on the death toll. The number of deaths + injuries is about 2,000, slightly higher than 1,200.