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Chapter 223: The World's Earliest Field Hospital

Lefebvre stood before the thin, long infantry line, watching the Albanian mercenaries in their yellowish-brown robes slowly surge forward like an ant swarm across the distant hills. Anxiously, he wiped the sweat from his palms onto the hem of his uniform.

The second company commander beside him murmured, "Lieutenant, there are about three or four thousand of them..."

"I see them," Lefebvre replied grimly. He was already regretting his move. He had indeed outflanked the enemy, but he only had 220 men.

The infantry behind him were spaced 1.5 meters apart, a number that should typically be 0.5 to 0.7 meters. There were only two ranks, front and back. If the enemy launched a strong assault, they could easily break through the line.

"Hold steady!" he glanced behind him, shouting to boost morale. "Grip your rifles tight. The enemy is no match for us!" In reality, cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

Soon, the yellowish-brown "ant swarm" reached the infantry line.

As Lefebvre bellowed "Fire!", the first rank of soldiers discharged their rifles, fire and thick smoke erupting simultaneously.

Because of the distance, only seven or eight Albanian mercenaries fell. However, the Albanians reacted as if stung by scorpions, instantly scattering to both sides, as if the slender French line before them were a stone wall.

"Fire!"

Their morale had utterly collapsed. Like startled birds, they reacted instinctively to the sound of gunfire, not even bothering to see how many enemy troops were present.

A flicker of surprise crossed Lefebvre's eyes, and his voice grew louder. "Reload!"

"..."

"Fire!"

As the Guards Corps soldiers continuously fired, the Albanian rout grew increasingly chaotic, even leading to numerous stampedes. Thousands of men were held back for nearly 20 minutes by these 200 soldiers. Only a portion of the mercenaries managed to escape around the flanks of the infantry line—Lefebvre had too few men, and his line could only block about a quarter of the flat road.

Finally, the first team of police academy cadets appeared behind the Albanian forces. The fleeing mercenaries quickly stopped their chaotic escape, dropping their weapons and kneeling to beg for mercy.

Four hours later.

Joseph, Berthier, and other officers walked through the recent battlefield, watching soldiers carefully carry away the wounded or loudly escort groups of Albanian mercenary prisoners.

The battle had gone more smoothly than Joseph had anticipated—the Guards Corps and the police academy cadets had demonstrated high morale and excellent combat skills. Of course, a significant reason was also the disarray of the enemy's forces. Otherwise, Berthier would have had to wait for the Moulins Legion to arrive and engage in a head-on battle with over 20,000 Algiers Janissaries.

Soldiers frequently spotted them, snapping to attention and saluting smartly. Joseph nodded back to them repeatedly.

Berthier took a slip of paper from a staff officer, quickly scanned it, then turned to Joseph with a smile. "Your Highness, the latest report indicates we've captured over 3,000 more enemy soldiers on the western flank. It seems there are also a few high-ranking officers among them."

"Oh? They actually caught up?"

Joseph was somewhat surprised. After the enemy scattered, some fled north, while others retreated west. Berthier had ordered the cavalry to pursue north, so Joseph thought the western flank might escape.

Berthier explained, "Two skirmisher companies quickly outflanked the enemy's western retreat, cutting off their escape route."

A nearby staff officer quickly summarized the blocking action on the western flank.

"François Lefebvre?" Joseph found the name familiar. He suddenly slapped his forehead. 'Wasn't this the Duke of Danzig?'

One of Napoleon's 26 Marshals, he had participated in major battles such as the Battle of Fleurus and the Battle of Jena, and had accompanied Napoleon on his expedition to Russia, achieving distinguished military service.

Joseph then remembered that Lefebvre was of common birth and had served in the French Guards. It seemed Berthier had recruited him into his ranks when he took over the French Guards previously.

No wonder he fought so ferociously, using just two companies to block over three thousand Albanian mercenaries. 'Had he just stumbled upon a hidden gem?'

He turned to Berthier. "Lieutenant Colonel, how do you intend to reward Lieutenant Lefebvre?"

Berthier pondered, "He is brave in combat and possesses considerable command talent, having performed exceptionally well in previous exercises.

"Your Highness, he can receive the Silver Iris Medal and be promoted to Captain this time."

According to the merit system Joseph had established, honors were divided from highest to lowest: Golden Iris Medal, Silver Iris Medal, and Bronze Iris Medal. Each required specific wartime achievements; for instance, the Golden Iris required playing a pivotal role that swayed the outcome of a major campaign. The Silver Iris required a significant impact on the battle's result, and the Bronze Iris required a major contribution to a localized part of a battle.

This system was far ahead of its time!

In the European armies of the era, even if medals existed, they were only awarded to noblemen. But in the Crown Prince's Guards Corps, no matter if you were born a beggar or were a mere auxiliary, as long as you contributed to the war, you would receive corresponding merits.

Moreover, each level of merit came with specific rewards and benefits. These were immediately fulfilled upon achievement, whether it was monetary reward, promotion, or even benefits for family members.

Under such a meritorious service system, which soldier wouldn't fight actively? How could morale not be high?

Joseph mused for a moment, then said, "I believe Lefebvre should be exceptionally promoted to Major. The Guards Corps is currently in need of talent, and we should give more opportunities to promising officers."

What he said was true. Because the Guards Corps had initially limited its recruitment to commoners and minor nobles, there was a severe shortage of mid- and high-ranking officers—in this era of France, only wealthy aristocrats could afford the specialized military academies that trained high-ranking officers. Without money or connections, even if one entered a military academy, they could only study obscure fields like surveying or engineering, and promotion would be extremely slow.

Thus, many Lieutenants in the Guards Corps currently served as company commanders, simply due to the severe lack of Captains.

Most importantly, Joseph was certain that Lefebvre was absolutely capable of handling the rank of Major. 'A Marshal personally vetted by Napoleon through a series of wars!'

Berthier immediately smiled and nodded, "As you command, Your Highness."

Within the Guards Corps, the Crown Prince's orders held absolute, unquestionable authority. Of course, Joseph would never blindly interfere beyond his capabilities, as this was the very foundation of his power.

The staff officer beside them chuckled, "Captain Davout's glory will certainly be overshadowed now."

Berthier also smiled. "He is still young. Perhaps having someone surpass him will motivate him to grow faster."

The future Marshal Davout was only 18 at the moment, having graduated from the military academy less than six months prior. He had already excelled in exercises, earning a promotion to Lieutenant and command of an infantry company. In today's battle, he bravely led his company from the front, enduring heavy enemy fire and being the first to break the enemy formation in hand-to-hand combat, earning him a promotion to Captain.

Joseph sighed inwardly. 'These Marshals under Napoleon truly weren't ordinary men. Give them even a small chance, and they immediately rise to prominence.'

In the afternoon, the Guards Corps had largely cleared the battlefield, and Joseph personally presided over the ceremony for collecting the bodies of the fallen soldiers. Of course, the specific religious rites were conducted by the accompanying chaplain.

In this battle, the Guards Corps and police academy cadets suffered a total of 89 killed and 70 seriously wounded.

Although this casualty count wasn't high, for such a one-sided battle, it could have been even lower.

Of course, this was their first real combat experience. Joseph believed that as their combat experience grew, they would perform better and better in the future.

Watching their comrades' bodies carefully collected, and then seeing the Crown Prince personally bid them farewell, a new sentiment began to grow in the hearts of the Guards Corps soldiers.

Before, their feelings for the Crown Prince were primarily gratitude and reliance. But after His Highness joined them on the battlefield, fighting side-by-side, it had transformed into love and reverence.

At 5 PM the next day, the Guards Corps, resting in place, finally met the long-awaited Moulins Legion.

They were half a day later than scheduled.

Inside the officers' tent, André saluted Joseph with an expression of self-reproach. "Your Highness, I apologize deeply. I arrived late."

Joseph gestured for him to sit down and asked, "Did something happen?"

André nodded awkwardly. "Your Highness, after leaving Tunis City, our wine supply didn't arrive. The very next day, a large-scale dysentery outbreak occurred."

He glanced outside the tent. "In fact, fewer than 2,600 men of the Moulins Legion arrived. The rest were left behind en route due to severe illness."

The Moulins Legion that came to Tunisia numbered 3,000. This meant that within four or five days, they had lost 13% of their strength to dysentery!

Joseph frowned slightly. He knew that most of Tunisia's population practiced Islam and didn't drink wine, making it difficult to acquire. This also confirmed his suspicions about the Tunisians' ability to provide logistical support.

Wine was an important military supply in this era, primarily because the fermentation process killed most harmful bacteria, making it the safest way for soldiers to rehydrate. After leaving Tunis City, the Moulins Legion had no wine and had to drink whatever water they found in the wild. This was likely the reason for their widespread dysentery outbreak.

Joseph comforted André and instructed him to settle his troops. They might be fighting tomorrow—according to the confessions of captured Albanian mercenaries, the main force of the Algiers Janissaries was a dozen kilometers behind them, about a day's march away.

After André departed, Joseph suddenly thought of a question and turned to Berthier. "Did the Guards Corps' wine supply not get interrupted?"

"No, Your Highness. Like the Moulins Legion, we also ran out of wine after leaving Tunis City."

"Oh? Then why didn't the Guards Corps experience a dysentery outbreak?"

A nearby staff officer promptly replied with admiration, "Your Highness, that is all thanks to Doctor Perne. Previously, the troops were also suffering quite severely from dysentery, but he strictly required the soldiers to drink hot water, and the situation improved. He even saved this campaign."

Joseph blinked. "Perne?"

Berthier whispered, "That is Doctor Perna's male name."

"It's her?"

Moments later, Perna, dressed in a white military uniform with her long hair tucked into a tricorn hat, entered the officers' tent and saluted Joseph and the others with a standard male gesture of hat-raising.

Joseph lifted his own hat, curious, and asked her, "How did you think of having the Guards Corps drink hot water?"

Perna replied earnestly, "Your Highness, you taught me that."

"I did?"

"You once told my father that illness is caused by bacteria entering the human body. Later in Bordeaux, you told Monsieur Vergniaud that bacteria would die if they stayed in hot water for half an hour."

The young female doctor took a breath and continued, "When soldiers in the corps fell ill with dysentery, I remembered these things while treating them. So I had them boil water for half an hour before drinking it. Many gradually recovered their health, while disobedient soldiers even suffered from diarrhea for over a month straight.

"Therefore, I concluded that your method was effective, and I required all soldiers to drink hot water."

Upon hearing this, Joseph greatly praised the female doctor's ability to draw inferences, but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a little exasperated—'Boiling the water is enough, you don't need to keep it boiling for half an hour!'

Nevertheless, he had to admit she had made a great contribution this time. If the Guards Corps had also suffered from 13% of its soldiers contracting dysentery, the battle against the Albanian mercenaries would have been much harder.

At the same time, Joseph felt a pang of self-reproach. He should have popularized such basic knowledge within the army beforehand. 'Alas, it was so easy to overlook the obvious.'

He nodded to Perna in praise. "You've done an excellent job. I think you should even be awarded a medal."

Perna quickly waved her hands. "I only did what a doctor should do, Your Highness. You don't need to reward me so generously. In fact, being able to treat soldiers in the corps during this campaign already makes me very happy."

Only then did Joseph recall that Perna was usually scolded by patients when she treated them. Some even believed that a female doctor would bring them bad luck.

The soldiers of the Guards Corps had not failed to notice her disguise as a man, but military doctors were scarce, and those who could successfully treat them were even rarer, so they all pretended not to know. And merely this was enough to make her immensely happy.

Joseph suddenly had an idea. "Doctor Perna, I would like to ask for your help in establishing a field hospital for the Guards Corps."

It was well known that in this era, the vast majority of soldiers did not die on the battlefield, but rather from poor medical conditions after being wounded.

Although antibiotics had not yet been developed, a clean and tidy medical environment, combined with diligent sterilization of medical instruments, could at least reduce the infection rate among wounded soldiers by half.

And Perna, with her exquisite medical skills, meticulous nature, and eagerness to learn, was the best candidate for this task.

At the same time, she could fully dedicate herself to her beloved medical career without having to overly concern herself with her gender.

"A field hospital?" Perna had never heard this new term before.

"Yes!" Joseph nodded. "And the profession of nurse, you can also establish that alongside it."