Chapter 363: Good News Keep Coming
On a hilltop two kilometers from the main Hanoverian army, a small wooden table was set, bearing two cups of hot tea.
Joseph picked up the plain cup, gestured to Berthier across the table, then took a leisurely sip.
"So much good news today," he remarked.
Berthier smiled and nodded.
"Indeed, Your Highness. I hadn't expected the Hanoverian artillery to be so hasty that they forgot to even destroy their cannons.
We can even drag those sixteen cannons directly to the Hanoverian defense line, effectively doubling our firepower."
Just now, a message had come back from the Guards Corps cavalry battalion: they had easily annihilated the rear guard of the Hanoverian army, which lacked infantry cover.
The Hanoverians clearly hadn't anticipated the French army's rapid arrival. They offered almost no decent resistance before fleeing in a rout.
Of course, they couldn't outrun the Hussars.
Just as Berthier had said, the Hanoverian soldiers, panic-stricken, had forgotten even basic procedures like setting fire to their supplies or spiking their cannons.
The French cavalrymen simply herded the eighty-plus supply wagons, still hitched to their horses, and gleefully returned to camp.
As the two spoke, a staff officer hurried over, raising his hat in salute.
"Your Highness, General, our forces have breached the left flank of the enemy infantry line."
Berthier's face lit up with joy. He turned and looked through his telescope, but saw nothing due to the thick gunpowder smoke covering the battlefield. He could only turn back and lean over the map to pinpoint the breakthrough location.
"It's here," the staff officer quickly pointed to the north side of a small river.
"Excellent!" Berthier exclaimed excitedly. "If we have the two skirmisher companies on the right flank, supported by the 10th Infantry Regiment, push west, we can encircle the enemy.
Oh, and if we maneuver the horse artillery to the left flank of the enemy's line formation and drive them south, we can ensure all enemies fall into the encirclement!"
Joseph leaned in to look at the map. He saw that the front and northeast flanks of the Hanoverian infantry line, which stretched for two kilometers along the river valley, were massed with no fewer than six regiments of Guards Corps infantry. Meanwhile, more than a dozen cannons on the eastern high ground relentlessly bombarded them.
If troops were deployed as Berthier suggested, the Hanoverian army would have no retreat route except to jump into the river to the south, and would essentially be annihilated.
The staff officer was about to relay the orders to the messenger when he heard the Crown Prince say:
"No, please maintain the current situation. Order the troops to prioritize eliminating the enemy cavalry, but leave them a gap to retreat towards Brussels."
Berthier immediately looked at Joseph in surprise.
"Your Highness, this is an excellent opportunity to annihilate the enemy. Why would you..."
"These are political considerations, General. I will explain them to you later." Joseph's tone was unwavering, despite his smile. "For now, please carry out my orders."
'You're joking! This Hanoverian army is a valuable asset. As long as they remain, Austria, mired in Silesia, can't detach itself from France.'
Now that the Hanoverians had lost all their cannons, and if their cavalry were also largely annihilated, combined with the heavy blow to their morale from this battle, they would pose almost no threat to the Guards Corps in the future.
Once all the "rewards" due were collected, they could be devoured at any time.
Berthier confirmed with Joseph once more whether he truly intended to let the enemy escape. After receiving an affirmative reply, though filled with doubt, he still ordered the messenger to comply.
Today seemed destined to be a day full of good news.
About an hour later, a messenger, arriving swiftly from the front lines, came to the temporary command post and excitedly reported to Joseph:
"Your Highness, just now, enemy commander General Diehl sent someone to offer his surrender."
What?!
Joseph's face immediately darkened.
'Are they really this useless?! I'm not even encircling you! With such a huge gap on the northwest side, don't you know how to run? You're going to make King George III lose face completely!'
To be fair, this couldn't be entirely blamed on General Diehl. His main cavalry force had just been driven into a valley and was effectively cut off. Without cavalry cover, how was he to know if turning to flee wouldn't just lead to French cavalry hunting them down from behind?
He had, after all, taken command in a crisis, and if he surrendered, Karl II would bear the responsibility. So he chose the safest course of action: surrender.
Joseph looked at the messenger beside him and said in a low voice:
"How could the brave and fearless Hanoverian army possibly surrender?
This must be a ploy to trick our army into lowering its guard!
Send that imposter back and tell his commander that we will absolutely not fall for it!"
"This..." Several officers exchanged dismayed glances upon hearing this.
Berthier was the first to react. He leaned close to Joseph's ear and murmured:
"Your Highness, is this also a 'political consideration'?"
"Exactly."
Soon, General Diehl, with no avenue for surrender, had no choice but to risk escaping towards Brussels under the relentless assault of the Guards Corps.
After receiving the latest battle report, Joseph finally breathed a sigh of relief. He then ordered the cavalry, who had been fighting all day, to rest in place, and the infantry to pursue cautiously, without entering the outskirts of Brussels.
The city of Brussels was already within the Flanders Region, which was not France's current strategic objective.
...
"Lads, do you still have the strength to teach the Dutch a lesson?"
Masson smiled as he called out loudly to the soldiers seated on the ground.
His reply was a spirited shout, "Yes!"
"Battalion Commander, this is much easier than our usual drills."
"Enough to march all the way to Amsterdam! Haha!"
Masson nodded with satisfaction and spoke a few more encouraging words. He was about to order a final assault on Bronckhorst—over the past few days, he had divided the Dutch into three segments, with more than 1,400 of them killed or captured. Bronckhorst was now desperately rushing towards Brussels, hoping to find sanctuary with the Hanoverians. However, their hurried retreat had made their formation extremely chaotic, leaving them highly vulnerable to attack.
Just then, a Hussar rode up quickly and reported to Masson:
"Battalion Commander, we've spotted a small detachment of Hanoverian troops by the dense woods to the north. Judging by their attire, there appear to be several high-ranking officers among them."
"Oh? Hanoverians?" Masson narrowed his eyes. 'According to the previous intelligence from the General Staff, the main Hanoverian force should be dozens of kilometers to the east. How did officers end up here?'
He quickly asked the Hussar, "How many of them are there?"
"No more than 400, Commander."
Masson glanced southwest again, where nearly 2,000 Dutch troops were. Then he looked north, where the mysteriously approaching Hanoverian officers were.
Finally, his gaze settled on the north.
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