Chapter 116: A Brand New Tactic
Since the Princess of the Two Sicilies was scheduled to visit Paris, the French Guards, serving as the city's garrison, naturally had to undertake the escort duty along her route.
Besenval, the commander of the French Guards, found himself the busiest man.
He had to ensure that all officers and soldiers memorized every step of the reception, route security, and escort before the princess arrived.
This kind of matter could not afford a single mistake. Thus, he personally oversaw the troops, repeatedly rehearsing the entire reception and escort process along the princess's predetermined route before he could rest assured.
He thought about the Grand Duchess of Tuscany who was yet to arrive and felt a throbbing headache wash over him.
The French Guards marched in three columns along a country road outside Paris. Just as they were about to reach the designated reception point, a thunderous boom suddenly echoed from the southwest, and the advancing formation halted abruptly, like startled rabbits.
Besenval frowned, recognizing the booming sound of a cannon.
How could there be cannons in this desolate place?
As if responding to his query, another boom resonated from afar.
Besenval motioned to the officer beside him. The latter immediately dispatched two Hussars to reconnoiter in the direction of the cannon fire.
After more than ten minutes, the Hussars returned, reining in their mounts and calling out:
"Report! The Paris Police Academy is conducting artillery training!"
"Paris Police Academy? Artillery training!" Besenval couldn't reconcile the two concepts for a long time, questioning, baffled, "Isn't the Paris Police Academy in the Saint-Antoine district?"
"General, they said this is their training ground."
Besenval narrowed his eyes in disbelief. As the commander of the Paris garrison, he actually didn't know that there was a training ground equipped with cannons in the southern suburbs of Paris!
Actually, he couldn't be blamed. With the state of intelligence gathering in this era, if one didn't deliberately send out scouts, there were even instances where two large armies passed within ten kilometers of each other without either detecting the other.
No enemy forces could possibly appear around Paris, so the French Guards naturally wouldn't be so idle as to conduct a full reconnaissance.
Therefore, the police academy's training base had been in use for six weeks, yet they hadn't discovered it until they happened to pass by here while familiarizing themselves with the princess's reception route.
Besenval pondered for a moment, then instructed the officer beside him: "Order them to stand down and rest. We'll go take a look."
...
At the Paris Police Academy's training base.
Berthier watched in shock as nearly two hundred police cadets expertly formed an infantry line to the beat of drums, with a messenger shouting, "Maintain formation!" and galloping past the front of the ranks.
On the left side of the formation, two 4-pounder cannons were conspicuously placed.
Opposite them, were over a hundred cadets with white armbands.
The "White Team," however, appeared untrained; only two-thirds of them formed two sparse lines, while the remaining third were loosely spread out in front of the lines, continuously approaching the opposing line.
Driven by military instinct, Berthier shook his head and commented to Dubois, "If the 'White Team' doesn't straighten their lines, they're likely to be broken."
The latter, however, merely smiled and shook his head: "Alexander, their formation is completely in order."
"Formation?" Berthier frowned. "'White Team'?" What formation? This was clearly just the officers failing to control their soldiers...
Suddenly, he felt something wasn't right.
Although the "White Team" appeared disorganized, the dispersed cadets in front of the lines maintained the same pace, as if forming a screen in front of the infantry lines.
At that moment, the "Blue Team's" cannons let out a furious roar. Of course, this was just a drill, and no live rounds were loaded.
Several instructors responsible for evaluating casualties quickly made a judgment, one of them relaying two figures to his assistant. The assistant immediately signaled the exercise with flags, indicating that the cannonball cut through the "White Team's" dispersed ranks, causing only two dead and four wounded.
"They are sacrificing themselves pointlessly. I think they need more training." Berthier shook his head in disapproval.
"Please be patient," Dubois reminded calmly.
After the "Blue Team's" cannons boomed twice more, the "White Team" underwent a transformation.
The drumbeat suddenly quickened, and the disorganized cadets at the front of the formation unleashed shouts:
"Charge!"
"Break through the enemy lines!"
"Don't be afraid, attack!"
The chaotic-looking formation began to run, and the "Blue Team" immediately responded with a volley of flintlock muskets.
However, because the "White Team" was too spread out, the volley inflicted very limited damage. More than three-quarters of the "White Team" cadets charged to within thirty meters of the "Blue Team's" infantry line.
"Halt!" As the "White Team's" officers gave the command, scores of cadets stopped simultaneously and raised their flintlock muskets.
"Fire!"
A puff of musket smoke rose from the dispersed ranks. The close-range volley instantly caused the "Blue Team" to lose seven or eight casualties.
Just as the "White Team" began to reload their flintlock muskets on the spot, the "Blue Team" returned a volley, and the "White Team" that had just rushed forward was immediately judged to have three dead and six wounded.
While the "Blue Team's" infantry line was grappling with these opponents whose lines were so ragged, the "White Team's" infantry line behind them had quietly arrived less than fifty meters away.
The dispersed "White Team" cadets suddenly retreated, seamlessly integrating into their own line with extreme speed.
Immediately afterward, the cadets in the "White Team" line raised their muskets, while the opposing "Blue Team's" formation was in disarray from the previous exchange of fire.
"Fire!"
A well-coordinated volley from the precisely aligned "White Team" made the "Blue Team's" formation descend into further chaos.
In an infantry line firefight, whichever side had the neater formation and more synchronized firing pace would gain the upper hand.
The "Blue Team" subsequently developed more and more gaps in their lines under the continuous firing of their opponents, finally being judged a failure by the assessing instructors when their casualties reached one-third.
Berthier turned to stare at Dubois, his face a mask of disbelief—why did the "White Team," with their disordered formation, actually win? Their numbers were even slightly fewer than the opponents!
From the first day he entered military school, he had been taught that "infantry lines must remain neat; if chaos occurs, it is better to cease firing and re-form their lines first."
He could confirm that the drill just now was conducted fairly, without a hint of bias, but why did the side with the disordered formation win?
Dubois clarified for him: "This is called the 'Skirmisher Shock Tactic.' The Crown Prince, His Royal Highness, invented it."
"Skirmishers? That's impossible..." Berthier's face was a picture of bewilderment. The Austrians often used skirmisher formations, but that was for adaptability in mountain warfare; he'd never heard of it being able to shatter an opponent's orderly infantry line.
Joseph, sitting in front and watching the drill, felt a pang of shame, thinking, 'This is a tactic created by Emperor Napoleon; I'm just copy-pasting it.'
However, he still turned his head and revealed a cunning, foxy smile: "Major Berthier, if you want to learn more about this tactic, you're welcome to visit the Paris Police Academy anytime. Oh, there are many other new tactics here that you might also find interesting."
...
As Besenval just glimpsed the perimeter wall of the Paris Police Academy's training base in the distance, he was stopped by several people in police uniforms: "Training in progress, no entry!"
An officer spurred his horse forward and announced haughtily, "This is General Besenval, commander of the French Guards. Who is in charge here? Send him out."
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