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Chapter 1234: Containment

Wellesley gazed at the map on the table: "I need to redeploy along the Rhine River."

"Who will be sent to Switzerland? General Picton?"

The Duke of York nodded again: "Yes, but the legion is mainly composed of Hessians and Thuringians."

Picton's legion had 30,000 British soldiers, all of whom, at the Duke of York's request, remained along the Rhine River.

Wellesley pondered for a moment, then said, "Your Royal Highness, please tell General Picton that it would be best not to launch an offensive. The terrain in Switzerland is highly prone to ambushes."

"He merely needs to establish a defensive line in Basel and, when the French army prepares to withdraw from Switzerland, intercept them as much as possible. If we can force Masséna to bypass Lausanne, it will delay their entry into the Baden battlefield by a month."

Basel faces a river on one side and mountains on the other, and can also receive reinforcements from Freiburg nearby. The French would find it difficult to breach it quickly.

Rather than risking a deep advance into Switzerland to rescue the Prussians, holding Basel is more advantageous.

Masséna's Legion should have between 50,000 and 60,000 soldiers. If this force is trapped in Switzerland, it would be a huge loss for France, which is already at a disadvantage in terms of troop strength.

Wellesley then complained, "First Switzerland, now Hanover—the French army's diversionary tactics are always so effective."

"And look at what we've accomplished on our side—Prince Regent João spent nearly four months just to occupy three small towns, and the Americans haven't even deployed their troops yet!"

The Duke of York spread his hands. "You know, João is unwilling to conscript the Caboclo people. Of course, their threat to the regular Spanish army is also very limited."

"And those Creole people, even before reaching the battlefield, are already making a fuss about demanding tax reductions or increased opportunities for political participation."

Creole refers to the general term for white individuals born and raised in Brazil. Before the war, they were restricted from holding high official positions—those were reserved for pure Portuguese nobility—now, as the main force of the army, they naturally want to seize the opportunity to fight for their rights.

What he didn't say was that if it weren't for issues with the Spanish army's supply lines, João, let alone occupying three towns, might have already been driven back to Macapá by now.

"As for the Americans," the Duke of York continued, "the Marquis of Londonderry set out a month ago to urge those sly fellows along."

In truth, the Americans weren't being cunning; their organizational and mobilization capabilities were simply abysmal, especially in the underdeveloped western regions.

After the state assemblies of Tennessee and Kentucky issued their mobilization orders, it took a full four months to gather fewer than 3,000 militiamen.

Ultimately, it was General Wayne who led Virginia's army to the west, personally counting them town by town, finally assembling the 6,000 troops needed for the expedition at the beginning of this year.

He then began waiting for the states to deliver logistical supplies, which is why the war has not officially begun to this day.

But from the British perspective, they were simply waiting for the European conflict to tie down the French army, so they could then profit from the situation.

Marquis Wellesley frowned. "I believe that if the Americans cannot immediately launch an attack on Louisiana, then our aid to them should be withdrawn."

"Yes, the Prime Minister holds precisely the same opinion as you, sir."

...

Months ago.

North America.

West bank of the Mississippi River, Opelousas.

Napoleon gazed wearily at the vast, mottled white plains before him, instinctively pulling his collar tighter. The novelty of his arrival had long since vanished.

Honestly, he regretted not heeding the Governor's advice to stay in New Orleans, opting instead to come here to recruit troops personally.

This godforsaken place was a hundred times more desolate than Elba Island.

He had been walking for over three hours today and hadn't encountered a single living soul.

Just then, a strange cry of "Ooo-roo-roo-roo" suddenly echoed from the surroundings, and immediately, a dozen riders, clad in deerskin jackets, adorned with feathers, and bearing yellowish-brown skin, came sweeping in, blocking his path.

The leading man pointed a Flintlock Musket at him and said in a deep voice, "You are not from around here. Please show your identification."

Napoleon was somewhat surprised that this native spoke French. Although the accent was odd, and there were three grammatical errors in just two sentences, he could still barely understand.

A nearby attendant leaned in and whispered, "They appear to be the local patrol team, sir."

He then produced a stamped document from his person and gestured to the Native Americans, "We are from the Louisiana General Staff. This is Major Bonaparte."

The dozen individuals opposite, upon hearing the pure French, immediately beamed with delight, holstered their weapons, and bowed to Napoleon.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Major."

"Do you have business here?"

"It's cold. Would you like to warm up in town first..."

The leader stepped forward and smiled. "We are from the Guasita Town patrol team. My name is Rocal, and I am their captain."

Napoleon tipped his hat to him. "I'm here to recruit..."

He was interrupted mid-sentence as someone on horseback approached from a distance, shouting loudly, "Smugglers! Seven people, and they seem to be armed!"

Rocal immediately grew serious, motioned for his team to hurry in that direction, and nodded to Napoleon. "You see, we have business to attend to. The town is just ahead. You may proceed there first."

Napoleon watched as these men skillfully controlled their horses, maintaining precise spacing as they galloped across the snow. A smile touched his lips. 'These are excellent cavalrymen.'

He waved to his guards. "Let's go have a look too."

The Governor had provided him with a good horse, so he quickly caught up with the patrol team. After riding for another ten minutes or so, he spotted two carriages hastily disappearing into a pine forest ahead.

Rocal fired a shot into the air and shouted in broken English, "Stop! Or we will shoot you!"

The people in the carriages didn't dare resist. They quickly dismounted and squatted in a line in the snow: five men and three women.

One Native American stepped forward, mumbled a few words in English, then declared loudly, "This is French Louisiana territory. You do not possess legal authorization to enter. Now, I am authorized by His Excellency the Governor to arrest you."

A few minutes later, the eight Americans were tied together in a line, following behind Rocal's horse as they headed towards Guasita Town.

The other Native Americans drove their carriages, from which they also confiscated three Flintlock Muskets.

"This is quite common," Rocal told Napoleon, gesturing towards the bound Americans. "We catch some almost every day."

Napoleon inquired curiously, "What will happen to them? Will they be hanged?"

"Why would you think that, Major?" Rocal replied earnestly. "We are civilized people. These individuals will face trial in court, and most likely be expelled to the east side of the river. Oh, and they might have to pay some fines."

"A court?" Napoleon asked. "Are there French people in the town?"

Rocal politely corrected him, "We also count as French, Major."

"You mean white people, don't you? No, the town is entirely populated by our Cherokee tribe."

Napoleon asked, surprised, "Then the court you mentioned earlier... who serves as the judge?"

"It's our tribal chief, Major," the patrol captain smiled. "He obtained his judge's qualification in New Orleans this past September."