Chapter 1203: Surrounded by Peril
On the northern border of Wallonia, France.
Major General Gaillard, commander of the Walloon garrison, flicked his riding crop and turned to Lefebvre. "General, honestly, we could just head straight for Nijmegen. Those Flemings are nothing but a drag."
"They can at least provide logistics," Lefebvre replied, gesturing toward the troops behind them. "Besides, we don't even have an engineer battalion."
He had only brought two infantry regiments with him this time, so naturally, he had no engineer battalion attached. The Walloon regional forces lacked such specialized units as well.
Two scouts on horseback galloped toward them. "General, President Scheyck is waiting for us on the outskirts of Breda."
Lefebvre chuckled. "He's still as skilled as ever at social niceties."
Gaillard curled his lip. "He just doesn't know how to fight a war."
Before long, bands lining the road began to play. Scheyck, leading a group of generals from the Flemish Republic, approached with a warm welcome. "Distinguished General Lefebvre, how long has it been since we last met? I often tell my men about your heroic exploits from back then."
"It's been four years," Lefebvre said, nodding in return. He then looked at him with a hint of surprise. "Are you planning to lead troops into the Netherlands with me personally?"
As the President of the Flemish Republic, Scheyck was no longer in a position to lead troops on the battlefield.
Upon learning that the British were attacking the Netherlands, he had immediately requested French intervention. If the British occupied the Netherlands, they would undoubtedly push south. Should that happen, the Flemish Republic would likely fall back under Austrian rule.
Coincidentally, France had also received a plea for help from the Dutch Parliament. After a brief discussion, the General Staff quickly ordered Lefebvre to lead a force to reinforce the Netherlands.
It was always better to fight a war in someone else's backyard than your own.
Scheyck gestured eagerly toward the far bank of the river. "General, the banquet is ready. If you would like..."
Lefebvre waved him off impatiently. "If we delay any longer, the Dutch won't be able to hold out."
Just as Scheyck was about to speak again, Lefebvre's adjutant hurried over, his expression grim. "General, we just received word. The Dutch have surrendered."
"Damn it! They didn't even last three days!"
The adjutant handed him the intelligence report. "Supposedly, the British were digging at the dikes of the Waal River. The Dutch Parliament had no choice but to surrender."
Gaillard looked at Lefebvre. "General, what should we do now?"
Scheyck interjected hurriedly, "Please, you must head to Antwerp immediately to establish a defensive line. The British will be here soon!"
Antwerp was the Flemish capital, a mere 120 kilometers from Nijmegen.
General Tyne, who had been standing silently in the background, stepped forward and spoke loudly. "We should advance to Breda for our defense. The waterways there are denser, and it would prevent the British from attacking Middelburg."
"What are you saying? We must put everything into defending Antwerp!"
"With all due respect, you understand nothing of military matters..."
Lefebvre frowned, lost in thought for a moment, then suddenly raised his hand to cut off their argument. "No, we are continuing to Nijmegen."
Everyone's eyes widened in shock.
"How can that be, General?" Scheyck asked nervously. "Antwerp has fewer than a thousand soldiers right now..."
Lefebvre appeared incredibly confident. "As long as we crush the British, Antwerp will be safe."
"But..."
"Do you find it inconceivable?"
Several people nodded.
"Then the British will find it equally inconceivable that we would launch a proactive attack with inferior numbers," Lefebvre declared. "As His Royal Highness the Crown Prince says, the best defense is a good offense!"
"In a sense, the Dutch surrender has actually created an opportunity for us."
"Breda is only fifty-five kilometers from Nijmegen. If we make a forced march, we can reach the banks of the Waal River by the day after tomorrow."
"The British army will certainly stop to rest and reorganize after their victory. At that point, they likely won't have even begun their river crossing!"
He turned to the nearby signal officer. "Tell the men to pick up the pace!"
"Yes, General!"
Gaillard whispered from the side, "Shouldn't we report this battle plan to the General Staff first and wait for their approval before..."
Lefebvre turned his horse's head northward. "We will report it, but if we wait for approval, it will be too late."
***
The west bank of the Rhine River.
Cologne Fortress.
Lieutenant Colonel Saint-Cyr looked across the river at the enemy fortress, which appeared as tranquil as a country villa. He turned to Augereau and said, "This is far too boring."
"I heard that the fighting in Italy has been going on for over half a month. Perhaps we should find a spot where the Prussian defense is weak and try to pick a fight ourselves."
If the Coalition officers had heard those words, they would have spit blood in frustration.
Along the Rhine, the French only had the Third Army plus one infantry division for defense, totaling forty-five thousand men. On the opposite side, the Duke of Brunswick commanded seventy thousand soldiers.
And yet, it was the French who were clamoring to go on the offensive. There was no helping it; when facing the British, Prussians, or Austrians, the French army was currently bursting with confidence.
"You're right," Augereau nodded. "In fact, I've already submitted a plan to the General Staff. A few days ago, the Hussars discovered that there are fewer than four thousand enemy troops defending the area north of Koblenz."
Saint-Cyr's eyes began to gleam. Just as he was about to discuss the tactical details with his commander, an adjutant brought over a battle report. "Lieutenant Colonel, Worms was attacked by enemy forces this morning."
Worms was a crossing point on the eastern side of the Rhineland. There had been no reports of enemy deployments there previously.
Saint-Cyr flipped through the report in confusion. "Picton's corps has suddenly left Stuttgart and appeared in the Mannheim area. They have over fifty thousand soldiers."
Augereau's brow furrowed instantly.
Mannheim was not a primary focus for the Rhine Army's defense. If they diverted troops from Cologne to fill that gap, it would likely give the Duke of Brunswick an opening on the other side of the river.
Saint-Cyr clearly realized the same problem and mused, "Should we ask General Soult to assist in the defense?"
Augereau shook his head. "The enemy is likely doing this on purpose to force the Baden Army to scatter its forces."
"The main Austrian forces are all north of Mantua. What threat could they possibly pose to Baden?"
"Picton's corps, combined with the Prussian and British forces, totals a hundred and fifty thousand men," Augereau explained. "Furthermore, the Austrians might split their forces to approach Baden as well."
"If General Soult leaves Karlsruhe, it could lead to the total destruction of Baden."
"Damn it... Then we can only wait for the General Staff's decision."
***
Northern Switzerland.
The Swiss Army led by Blücher had split into western and northern divisions. Along with the twenty thousand soldiers under the Austrian commander Friedrich von Hotze, they had formed a three-sided encirclement of the Swiss capital, Zurich.
At ten o'clock in the morning, an Austrian diplomat arrived at Hotze's command post. He bowed to the general, then spread his hands with a faint smile. "The Swiss have refused, General."
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