Chapter 1232: New Era of Warfare
Gaizka stood by the carriage door, a knot of apprehension tightening in his chest.
The train, a colossal python with a black head, lay motionless on the tracks. He felt as though he was about to climb into its belly.
"Is this thing really safe?" he asked, glancing back at Honor Representative Sergeant Perpard.
Perpard chuckled and clapped him on the back. "I recall you saying you weren't afraid of Austrian cannons, and now you're scared of a train?"
"I, I certainly am not!" Gaizka exclaimed, his face flushing. He tightened the strap of his percussion cap musket, gritted his teeth, and leaped onto the train.
The dimly lit carriage was lined with dozens of rows of wooden benches, each pair sharing a backrest about one meter high.
Gaizka found his designated spot and sat down next to Naseli.
The seating was cramped. To maximize capacity, each carriage held twenty-three and a half rows of seats, with six people per row, totaling 141 positions.
But Gaizka and the other soldiers were visibly delighted—these wooden benches were far more comfortable than riding a horse. A day's ride in the saddle could leave one's lower back and hips terribly sore. Without exception, every cavalryman had thick calluses on their inner thighs.
Half an hour later, a loud whistle blast echoed from the front. The carriage shuddered violently, then slowly began to move.
Shouts of excitement and apprehension erupted from the soldiers, while some bowed their heads, praying incessantly. The company officers had a tough time calming everyone down.
Gaizka's eyes widened as the trees outside the window blurred past.
Faster and faster they went, until the trees became nothing more than hazy horizontal streaks.
His heart felt like it was about to pound out of his chest—this was far too fast! Or perhaps, as Naseli had suggested, it truly would fly.
He was one of the better ones; several soldiers had already squeezed their eyes shut in fear.
In truth, the train's speed was only 37 kilometers per hour at this time. But in this era, apart from nobles who owned purebred horses, no one had experienced such speed—even an ordinary horse, running at its absolute limit, would struggle to exceed 30 kilometers per hour.
It wasn't until midday that Gaizka grew accustomed to the speeding along with a "clackety-clack" sound. He turned to the Honor Representative sitting diagonally behind him. "Sergeant Perpard, who invented such a miraculous vehicle?"
"It's said to be a Mr. Trevithick, though he only completed the design with guidance from His Royal Highness the Crown Prince."
Naseli and several other soldiers immediately exclaimed in surprise, "His Royal Highness is truly omnipotent!"
"The great Son of Divine Favor!"
Gaizka, however, recalled the figure who had left 50 livres at his home that year. He had been young then, but his father later told him that young man was likely His Royal Highness the Crown Prince.
That money had saved his entire family.
"May God bless His Royal Highness the Crown Prince," he devoutly made the sign of the cross on his chest.
From the middle of the carriage came the company sergeant's incessant shouts: "Anyone going to relieve yourselves, make sure you hold on to the railing, or you might fall!"
Indeed, the train had no toilets; to answer nature's call, one had to go to the connection between two carriages and "dispose" directly outside.
Hearing the shout, Gaizka also felt his bladder tighten. Just as he was about to raise his hand to excuse himself, he saw the train slowly pull to a stop beside a massive wooden "rain shelter."
In the center of the shelter, a small mountain of coal was piled on the ground, and beside it was a massive water trough.
Only after the train had fully stopped did he see a large wooden sign with a string of words. He was diligently trying to decipher it when Naseli read it aloud before he could: "Verdun Station. My God, this is Verdun!"
A clamor of voices immediately filled the carriage once more.
They had departed at eight in the morning, and now, just past one in the afternoon, they had arrived in Verdun from Paris.
To think, this journey would usually have taken at least a week to cover.
Everyone felt as if they were dreaming!
On the station platform, dozens of inspectors tapped rhythmically on the train's undercarriage and couplings with iron hammers. After working for nearly half an hour and confirming there were no mechanical faults, the train continued its journey.
Thus, by a little past six that evening, Gaizka's company had arrived by train 60 kilometers east of Nancy.
The sergeant shouted orders for the soldiers to prepare to disembark.
They were now only 50 kilometers from their destination, Strasbourg. They would reach it in less than two days' march.
Currently, the railway only extended this far. If the entire line were completed, they could have reached the front that very day.
Over 2,500 soldiers disembarked from passenger train F021 and began to form ranks. In the distance, the locomotive detached from the carriages and laboriously turned around on the wye track.
Gaizka's group quickly called roll, then set up camp.
Steam was already rising from the field kitchen.
Sergeant Perpard sat among dozens of soldiers, beginning their regular evening "program": "Tonight, we continue our story about 'The Tsar's Patricide.'
"Where did we leave off last time?"
"Zubov was stopped by Count Bobrinsky!" Naseli, as always, responded quickest.
"Ah, that's right." Sergeant Perpard nodded, blowing on his cold hands. "Zubov, with a sword point aimed at his nose, fell to his knees in terror.
"Count Bobrinsky shouted to the surrounding assassins, 'Lay down your weapons! Your leader has surrendered!'
"While everyone was momentarily stunned, Crown Prince Alexander of Russia ran up from downstairs, bringing dozens of guards with him.
"'Leave these assassins to me!' he waved to Count Bobrinsky. 'You bravely prevented a coup.'
"The instant His Excellency the Count breathed a sigh of relief, Alexander suddenly kicked away his saber, then drew a pistol and pressed it against his chest. 'You're far too meddlesome, you bastard. My father's era is over...'"
He was recounting the story of Paul I's assassination, written by Viscount Scherer. Interspersed with some of Alexander's romantic exploits, it ran for over forty chapters. After Joseph's revisions, it became a tightly plotted and suspenseful narrative, available in several versions, including German and Russian.
Since its publication, the book had sold thirty to forty thousand copies across Europe. Although banned in countries like Britain, Prussia, Austria, and Russia, it continued to circulate wildly and secretly among the populace.
In France, it was a hot topic of discussion for everyone, and after being adapted into a play, it played to packed houses every night.
The next day.
Gaizka's unit unloaded their logistical supplies and provisions from the newly arrived freight train F021, then continued their march toward Strasbourg.
They were to cross the middle reaches of the Rhine River there and establish a garrison within Baden.
Not long after setting off, Gaizka saw a dense crowd of people busy constructing something.
Some carried sand and gravel, others transported iron rails. All the laborers, however, wore shackles.
In the distance, overseers shouted in a language he couldn't understand, occasionally cracking whips.
Sergeant Perpard pointed to the scene and explained to the gathered men:
"Look, these are the Russian soldiers General Masséna captured. Tens of thousands of them."
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