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Chapter 1262: The Karlsruhe Counterattack

Archduke Charles was roused awake by the strong scent of sulfur.

The pungent odor made him want to cough, but he found his mouth gagged with a roll of cowhide, his hands and feet bound. Even breathing was an immense effort.

Whispers drifted from outside the room. "Those cowardly and foolish Prussians actually surrendered, intimidated by just ten thousand French soldiers!"

"The idiots could have retreated to East Prussia and held out. The Coalition Forces would have come to their aid soon enough."

"Now our northern flank is no longer secure..."

"Hmph, General Milius is on his way to Berlin. Perhaps he'll occupy it in a few days."

"Let's hope so. The soldiers are all talking about it now..."

Archduke Charles wasn't surprised by his condition. He had suffered from epilepsy since childhood, and each time he woke up, he was bound to his bed, undergoing sulfur fumigation.

The doctor waiting nearby sensed movement and quickly stepped to the bedside, leaning in to ask, "Your Highness, are you awake?"

Prince of Schwarzenberg, leading the group, bowed to Archduke Charles. "Marshal, are you feeling better?"

Archduke Charles waited for the guards to untie him, then struggled to sit up. "I'm fine."

His head spun, a likely effect of the laudanum. He shook his head and asked the Prince of Schwarzenberg, "How long was I unconscious?"

"Most of the day, Marshal."

Archduke Charles frowned, ignoring the doctor who was making an incision in his arm to bleed him. He sought out Chief of Staff Wölffer from the crowd and commanded:

"Immediately recall the troops heading to Amberg. Only Wurmser's Corps will remain to continue besieging Moreau. We have no time to waste."

The Prince of Hechingen, standing nearby, exclaimed excitedly, "Are we going to teach those Prussian traitors a lesson?"

Archduke Charles waved a weary hand. "The Prussians pose no immediate threat to us. They'll undoubtedly return to our side once we gain an advantage on the battlefield.

"Right now, we must break through the enemy's Baden defense line as quickly as possible to seize the initiative."

As he laid out his battle plans from his sickbed, the Duke of York, commander-in-chief of the British forces, strode in, observing him before forcing a smile. "Thank God you've recovered."

Before Archduke Charles could reply, the British Duke anxiously continued, "I need to deploy Wellesley's Corps to Hanover.

"As you know, after the Prussian surrender, Hanover could be attacked by the French army at any moment."

Archduke Charles sighed. "With all due respect, Your Highness, I fear it's too late. We must concentrate our forces..."

Marquis Wellesley's troops were currently in Western Saxony, over 220 kilometers from Hanover, and would certainly face French interception along the way.

"No!" the Duke of York suddenly roared, abandoning all decorum. "I don't care about your grand strategy! Almost all the military expenses here are paid by my country; you must find a way to secure Hanover for me!"

Silence immediately fell over the room, broken only by the drip-drip-drip of Archduke Charles's blood falling into the basin.

......

Baden.

Southeast of Karlsruhe.

Korsakov was poring over a map, contemplating where to launch his attack tomorrow, when he saw a messenger officer galloping furiously towards him.

He glanced up at the sky and couldn't help but smile. It wasn't even noon yet, and the front line had already achieved a breakthrough. It seemed today was a lucky day.

Unexpectedly, the messenger, still some distance away, shouted, "General, Zagatsev's Corps has been routed!"

Korsakov frowned. Zagatsev's Corps was the main force responsible for the frontal assault.

He immediately waved his hand dismissively. "Tell them to withdraw near Delmissa Village. Snelikhov's Corps will go and meet them."

After a month of fighting, he had grown quite familiar with the French new recruits opposing them. They were high-spirited and formidable in bayonet charges, but their training was poor. Even if they gained an advantage, they would scatter if he just pulled back a little, chasing too far.

But the messenger didn't leave, instead stating anxiously, "General, Delmissa Village has already been occupied by the enemy..."

"What?" Korsakov was shocked. That village was right near his command post.

He turned to his chief of staff. "Send someone to Sir Graham for reinforcements..."

He was halfway through his sentence when he suddenly heard a roar of cannons from the north, clearly not far away.

Immediately after, a Hussar galloped up to report, "General, our right flank is under attack! General Kasyakin requests your reinforcements!"

Korsakov felt bewildered. How had the French army suddenly become so formidable today, even learning flanking maneuvers?

He hastily dispatched his reserves to the right flank, but just half an hour later, the routed soldiers of Snelikhov's Corps were already streaming past his command post.

What he didn't realize was that he wasn't facing the French Sixth and Seventh Armies from before, but Masséna's Royal First Army, which had only arrived in Karlsruhe yesterday.

The Russian forces, accustomed to the low-intensity firepower of the French new recruits, were instantly routed the moment they clashed with these elite troops.

By shortly after 1:00 PM, even the new recruits of the Sixth Army had joined the pursuit.

Meanwhile, Masséna led two divisions away from the main battle, bypassing the Coalition lines, and swiftly advanced towards Pforzheim, 20 kilometers to the southeast.

By noon the next day, the extremely wretched Anglo-Russian Coalition forces had fled all the way there, only to be astonished to find that the French army had already established strong defensive lines on both sides of the city.

Korsakov, without hesitation, ordered Snirekhov, Kasyakin, and other generals to place themselves under Graham's command. He then took a small detachment of cavalry and fled south towards the Danube River.

Outside Stuttgart, the capital of Württemberg.

A French soldier swung his rifle butt, brutally smashing it into the face of a Russian prisoner at the end of the line. The prisoner cried out, fell to the ground, and spat out two bloodied teeth.

Nearby French soldiers looked over, smiles spreading across their faces.

It wasn't that they harbored sadistic tendencies. The Russians' ferocious assault on the Baden defense line had resulted in over ten thousand French soldiers killed and an additional 14,000 wounded.

Whenever they recalled their fallen comrades, it was difficult to suppress the rage in their hearts.

"Hey, stop that! You can't do this!" Sergeant Gazka blew his whistle loudly, pointing at the soldier still striking the prisoner. "The Colonel said these prisoners are being sent to Trier to build the railway. How will they work if you injure them?"

Masséna, passing by not far off, cast a glance at the seemingly endless column of prisoners. He then turned to the Crown Prince and smiled. "Your Highness, with over twenty thousand more men, the railway to Cologne should be completed very soon."

Joseph nodded. "If not for the lack of funds, we could even start construction on the railways within Baden simultaneously."

The Anglo-Russian forces besieging Baden were severely disconnected from the main Coalition army, which meant they received no reinforcements when Masséna outflanked them with superior numbers.

After more than two days of fierce fighting, Sir Graham reluctantly surrendered with 7,000 British troops and over 20,000 Russian soldiers.