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Chapter 1210: Beginning the Counterattack

Blücher pointed his riding whip at the messenger and barked, "Discard everything that isn't essential for combat! Toss the heavy cannons as well! The entire army must advance at least one and a quarter kilometers every day!"

Beside him, Tauentzien hurriedly asked, "General, how will we attack Mantua without the artillery..."

"Once we reach Lombardy, the Sardinians will resupply us," Blücher replied with a frown. "Time is the only thing that matters right now!"

Soon, a vast number of wagons were shoved into the mountain valleys, and the marching speed of the Prussian army surged immediately.

Six days later, Blücher finally spotted the snow-free southern end of the Gotthard Pass through his telescope. A rare expression of relief crossed his face.

He gestured to Major Kleist, commander of the Hussar regiment nearby. "Establish a picket line around the perimeter of the pass immediately."

"Yes, General!"

Two hours later, five Prussian Hussar squadrons descended from the slopes of the Alps.

Kleist felt the dry, firm ground beneath his horse's hooves. Just as he was about to order several captains to fan out for reconnaissance, a deafening roar suddenly erupted from the ridges to the north and south.

"Fall back! Get back!" Kleist yelled, yanking his reins and turning his horse to gallop back up the mountain.

Behind him, the roar of cannons continued. Another dozen Prussian cavalrymen were unfortunately struck by cannonballs, their bodies torn into countless fragments.

When Blücher received the cavalry's report, he did not give up immediately.

Based on the timing, the French might have just arrived. He needed to charge out at all costs before they could finish setting up their defensive positions.

Before long, more than eight hundred soldiers from the 21st Royal Grenadier Battalion fanned out and charged toward the pass. Two squadrons of Hussars provided cover on their flanks.

However, Ney gave them no opportunity.

Twenty-eight cannons had already been positioned on both sides of the pass. Their positions had been carefully selected and pre-aimed to ensure every shot hit its mark.

Though the Prussian grenadiers were exceptionally brave, they only managed to advance less than four hundred meters. Under the thunderous roar of concentrated artillery fire, they left behind over three hundred corpses and were forced to retreat.

In truth, even if they had reached the mouth of the pass, they would have been met by over ten thousand Auguste Pattern 1797 Jäger rifles.

The pass was less than a kilometer wide; it could only accommodate three or four thousand men at a time. A few volleys would have been enough to shatter them.

Blücher organized two more assaults, but both were swiftly repelled.

Finally, he realized he was trapped within the Alps.

That evening, his staff officer reported the remaining military supplies: they had enough food for fourteen days and ammunition for two mid-sized battles.

Blücher hesitated for a long while before decisively leaving two regiments to cover the rear while he led the main force back to Switzerland.

Though Switzerland was impoverished, they could still find some food there; on the mountains, they would surely starve to death.

On the third day of his return journey, he encountered the remnants of Hotze's forces amidst the vast, swirling snow...

In Northern Italy.

Moreau looked back at the wide Po River. He flicked his whip and moved to the front of the column, shouting to his soldiers, "Four years ago, the Austrians were hunted like rabbits by us here. Now, it is time to enjoy that hunting season once again!"

The soldiers immediately erupted in cheers, their spirits high as if they truly were going on a hunt.

This was the lower reaches of the Po River, where the Austrian offensive lines did not extend.

After leading his troops on a forced march along the southern bank for two and a half days, Moreau confirmed there were only small Austrian detachments on the opposite side. He quickly constructed pontoon bridges and crossed.

He wasn't worried about scattered stragglers reporting back to Archduke Charles. His goal was to disrupt the Austrian deployment and relieve the pressure on the Mantua line.

Furthermore, even if Archduke Charles received word, he would likely suspect it was merely a small-scale French harassment. By the time he sent cavalry to verify the situation, Moreau would be long gone.

At this moment, a Prussian army was trapped in eastern Switzerland. As long as nothing went wrong with the Mantua Fortress, France would stand to gain immensely.

At two o'clock in the afternoon, a small ten-man squad of French rangers waded through the lower reaches of the Agno River and quietly approached the town of Montecchio, southwest of Vicenza.

The horse manure on the road was still damp. The cavalrymen immediately dispatched three men toward the town, while the others pursued to the west.

At dusk, Moreau frowned slightly as he looked at the markers his staff had placed on the map.

These were positions where Austrian troops had recently been spotted by scouts. It wasn't that there were no targets to strike, but rather that there were too many.

Just as he had anticipated, the Austrians were in such a hurry that their formations were a chaotic mess.

In some cases, there were gaps of over ten kilometers between cavalry and supply trains.

But this meant most Austrian units consisted of only a few thousand men, which weren't worth the effort.

Just then, a cavalry major entered the tent excitedly and saluted. "General, my men have discovered Werneck's corps at Montecchio. They have nearly thirty thousand soldiers."

Moreau's eyes lit up. "Tell me the details."

"They are about fifteen kilometers to the west..."

The following morning, the French Fifth Army was divided into three groups. Victor commanded five thousand soldiers, including two thousand cavalry, moving from the north side of the Agno River to intercept the front of Werneck's corps.

Moreau personally commanded nineteen thousand men to pursue Werneck along the shortest route for a direct engagement.

Lieutenant Colonel Macdonald led seven thousand men between Vicenza and the town of Montecchio to prevent the Austrian forces in Vicenza from sending reinforcements.

The French soldiers had eaten a hearty breakfast before dawn and were full of energy, covering the distance to their target at a near-jog.

By two in the afternoon, Moreau's vanguard spotted the silhouette of Werneck's corps in the distance.

Indeed, it had taken them only half a day of forced marching to cover nearly twenty kilometers and catch up with the Austrians.

Werneck never expected an attack from his own rear. By the time his scouts reported over ten thousand French troops approaching, it was too late to consolidate his forces.

Werneck acted decisively, immediately abandoning his lead elements which were too far away, and personally commanded over twenty thousand men from the center to form a defensive formation.

Meanwhile, he sent messengers to Vicenza and Verona for aid.

Moreau's horse artillery was the first to arrive, positioning themselves just over four hundred meters from the Austrian flank. They deployed rapidly and opened fire.

Werneck was scrambling to send cavalry to deal with the cannons when he saw a vast swarm of French soldiers in white uniforms surging forward from the southeast in a disorganized mass.

There was no line formation—not even a coherent column. They looked like ten thousand peasants who had never fought a war, leisurely approaching across a battlefield two kilometers wide.