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Chapter 331: The Great Victory of Luxembourg

In large-scale army operations, a consecutive collapse on the front lines inevitably spawns immense chaos.

Blücher personally commanded the third infantry line and committed all his reserves, yet he still couldn't restore order among the soldiers at the front.

Soon, a torrent of routed Prussian soldiers, driven by the Guards Corps, surged back towards their last defensive line.

The Prussian cannons, previously positioned for excellent firing, now found no targets amidst the chaotic tangle of French and Prussian soldiers.

Instead, the Guards Corps' horse artillery swiftly maneuvered to a patch of elevated ground on the west flank, and under cavalry cover, began shelling the Prussian infantry lines at the rear.

Blücher watched the Prussian soldiers scurrying like ants from a shattered nest, the deafening roar of French cannons echoing in his ears. He knew this battle was lost.

He bent his riding crop with such force that veins bulged on the back of his hand, and he spoke, his voice strained, to the orderly: "Order Maximilian to command the infantry line and hold the French here until five o'clock this afternoon. The Artillery Battalion is to remain and assist with the defense."

This infantry line was their only hope of delaying the French, and with the artillery's slow movement making a smooth retreat unlikely, he entrusted both to Lieutenant Colonel Maximilian, a skilled defensive commander, hoping to withdraw as many forces as possible.

If they could retreat to Liège, they could link up with the Southern Netherlands rebels, reorganize their forces, and then... hold out until reinforcements arrived from Potsdam.

Blücher knew that after this crushing defeat, the Prussian forces in the Southern Netherlands would be hard-pressed to openly challenge the French army anytime soon. But this defeat was merely a consequence of the French appearing suddenly and catching him completely off guard.

Once he had sufficient reinforcements, and he poured his full effort into commanding the battle, he would surely defeat these cursed Frenchmen and wash away today's humiliation!

He turned, sighed, and finally waved a hand at the orderly: "Everyone else is to retreat immediately towards Wincelen. Additionally, inform Hartmann and Dietlinde to cancel their missions and proceed to Wincelen with utmost speed."

"Yes, General!"

On a rise 1.5 kilometers to the southeast, Berthier received the Hussars' report and immediately turned to Joseph. "Your Highness," he announced, "the Prussians appear to be in full retreat.

"If we commit our reserves to bolster the frontal assault and coordinate with cavalry to flank and harass them, there's a high probability we can breach their defenses before the enemy fully withdraws. That's their very last line."

In their current state of disarray, a Prussian retreat isn't as simple as issuing an order. For one, relaying the retreat command to every junior officer alone would take at least forty minutes. After that, officers would need to gather their troops and conduct even the most basic reorganization. By the time they could actually begin moving towards Wincelen, it would be at least another hour and a half.

And simply running without reforming ranks? That wouldn't be a retreat; it would be a full rout. Most soldiers would eventually find a nearby village to hide. If Blücher arrived in Wincelen with even a thousand men, it would mean he was exceptionally pious and Jesus had given him special care.

Joseph, however, smiled and shook his head. "Oh, no, no," he interjected. "If you do that, you might very well capture Marquis Blücher."

Berthier was about to exclaim, "That would be splendid!" but then suddenly recalled His Highness's previous mention of 'going easy.' He paused, then asked with a hesitant tone, "Your Highness means... let them go?"

"Precisely." Joseph smiled, looking at his Chief of Staff. "As long as the Marquis keeps moving, he's France's best friend."

Seeing Berthier's bewildered expression, Joseph decided to lay out his Netherlands strategy. "We're not here to fight Austria's battles for free, after all."

He pointed northwest. "We will reclaim Wallonia through this war."

Indeed, 'reclaim.' Although France had only governed Wallonia for a few decades, from that moment onward, Wallonia would forever be French territory.

He continued, "But if our army were to rashly enter the Southern Netherlands, it would inevitably provoke strong opposition from Austria.

"Then we'll need a compelling reason. For example, Blücher's grand army rampaging through the Southern Netherlands..."

After he succinctly outlined his plan for the Southern Netherlands, Berthier's face was filled with profound admiration. He nodded instinctively. "You truly are the most brilliant strategist, Your Highness. This way, His Majesty Joseph II will even be profoundly grateful to France..."

"Indeed." Joseph walked over to the map. "Now, you must begin deploying for the final mop-up operation.

"The Prussian forces left to cover their retreat must be eliminated as thoroughly as possible, while minimizing our own casualties."

"Yes, Your Highness!" Berthier immediately snapped to attention, assessing the battlefield and swiftly issuing a series of orders.

...

Blücher glanced back at the dejected soldiers beside him, yet felt a long sigh of relief escape his chest.

The French army had actually paused its frontal assault, allowing him to calmly gather his routed soldiers and ultimately withdraw nearly seven thousand men.

He had now retreated to less than four kilometers from Wincelen. If Hartmann and Dietlinde's two legions could return successfully, he would still command a formidable army of fourteen thousand, capable of challenging the French.

"These pampered Frenchmen," he scoffed. "They're likely fatigued from the earlier fighting, so they stopped to drink their fill of wine before resuming the battle.

"That's why they can never defeat the Prussians, whose willpower is absolutely unyielding..."

As he muttered softly to himself, an aide spurred his horse over, reporting the Hussars' reconnaissance findings: "General, the French appear to be attempting to bypass Lieutenant Colonel Maximilian. They're dividing their forces, moving west from Rucimbo Village and Woller Village, yet leaving their cavalry behind."

"Detouring?" Blücher sneered. "Going through those two villages adds about half a kilometer..."

As he spoke, a sudden realization struck him, and his brow furrowed. The French weren't pursuing him; they were encircling Maximilian!

He sighed helplessly. Maximilian was, after all, meant to be sacrificed; as long as Hartmann and Dietlinde's legions returned successfully, the losses would still be within an acceptable range...

However, even as his thoughts raced, another messenger arrived, his expression anxious. "General," he reported, "Lieutenant Colonel Hartmann is being held up by Leo's Austrian army. The situation is critical, and he requests your immediate support!"

"What? You mean Leo's army?!"

On the battlefield ten kilometers to the east, Lefebvre was commanding a thin infantry line, fiercely striking the Prussian flank. Meanwhile, Leo's soldiers, buoyed by the presence of the Guards Corps, had finally found some renewed spirit and were exchanging fire with the Backhaus Regiment.