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Chapter 429: Let Them See a True Army

The battlefield on the east side of Annaba was suddenly littered with "French" corpses — most of them the result of the "tribal warriors" trampling each other in their panicked flight.

Kehler lowered his telescope and squinted. 'Had their previous defeat to the French merely been an accident? Were the French not as terrifying as he'd imagined? Or perhaps the more formidable French general hadn't come to Annaba this time?'

He hesitated for only a few seconds before barking orders at a nearby officer:

"Order the Golsa Legion and the cavalry on the left flank to pursue the fleeing enemy immediately! Artillery forward, press closer to the center line!"

He was certain it wasn't a feigned retreat to lure them in — judging by the bodies scattered across the ground, there had to be at least five or six hundred men. Who would sacrifice so many lives just for a deceptive ploy? It was too realistic.

Soon, a deep horn call echoed through the Algiers army. Algiers officers led over 3,000 infantrymen, charging towards the "retreating" French positions under the cover of cavalry.

Meanwhile, Lefebvre watched the approaching Algiers army, his eyes widening in surprise. 'Crown Prince Joseph had merely said to let those tribal fellows experience the "atmosphere" of battle. He hadn't expected such an unexpected windfall—a direct charge was far easier than a siege.'

He immediately ordered the Tunisian Legion soldiers, who had been waiting, to escort the "tribal warriors" to observe the battle alongside the Guards Corps, then turned to a staff officer beside him.

"Alright, now let them see how a real army fights."

Sfec of the Wakruma tribe was the chief's nephew. Trembling all over, he was being forced back towards the battlefield at knifepoint.

It was nothing like what he'd heard; the Algerians were terrifying! Just moments ago, the man beside him had suddenly exploded into pieces, shattered organs even splattering into his mouth. The memory of that warm, bloody taste made him gag and vomit once more.

"W-what is this? Are they making us fight again?" A man beside him cried out, his eyes wide with terror. "No! I won't go..."

The man was brutally kicked by a Tunisian soldier, his voice abruptly cut short.

Sfec stumbled forward, trembling, when someone thrust a telescope into his hand.

"Do you know how to use this?" the officer asked.

Sfec nodded instinctively, then heard the rhythmic beat of drums emanating from the nearby formation. The next moment, the French infantry line, perfectly straight, advanced as a single unit of over two thousand men, moving without hesitation to meet the Algerians.

The officer pointed north and declared loudly:

"Look over there!"

The "tribal warriors" all turned their heads to see dozens of horses dragging something through a cloud of dust, galloping towards the enemy's position.

Sfec remembered the telescope in his hand, quickly raised it, and saw several cannons.

The cannons charged directly towards the Algerians — at least, to Sfec, it looked as if the two sides were practically on top of each other.

Then, numerous soldiers leaped from the carriages, skillfully unfastened the ropes, and set up the cannons.

Almost simultaneously, the Algiers cavalry charged forward, scimitars flashing — annihilating enemy artillery was one of the cavalry's primary duties.

However, the cannons instantly belched fire, making Sfec's heart clench. Immediately, a large swathe of the charging Algiers cavalry was mown down like weeds in a strong wind.

Concentrated grapeshot at close range was that devastating.

The cavalry were clearly terrified. Their charge faltered, and they scattered, turning to flee.

This was a contest of morale and willpower. If the Algiers cavalry could have endured the cannon fire and pressed their assault, the artillery would likely have been defeated, but this was clearly beyond their capabilities.

The Algerians had never expected artillery to dare go head-to-head with cavalry. After the cavalry's rout, their entire left flank was exposed to the Guards Corps' horse artillery.

The five Six-Pounder Cannons immediately switched to solid shot, unleashing a concentrated barrage on the Algiers infantry less than 200 yards away.

These largely untrained Algiers Janissaries held out for only a few more minutes than the "tribal warriors" before retreating in disarray under the close-range cannon fire.

Kehler was stunned. He had held a complete advantage just moments ago. How had everything turned upside down in barely half an hour?

He frantically ordered his officers to rally the fleeing soldiers and send the second line of infantry forward. However, his orders hadn't even reached the front lines before the Guards Corps' attacking columns, shielded by skirmishers, smashed into the Algiers army.

Sfec and the others were driven towards the flank of the battlefield. The booming of cannons filled his ears, and then he saw the "Roman warriors" in their white uniforms turn, run a few steps, and swiftly form into a perfectly straight line.

The drumbeats abruptly ceased. The Guards Corps officers simultaneously pointed their sabers forward, issuing the command to "Fire!"

The two armies were less than 20 yards apart at their closest point. As the Guards Corps unleashed a volley, great clouds of blood mist erupted within the Algiers formation. Screams and wails followed, broken bodies lay everywhere on the ground, and the air reeked of blood. More Algiers soldiers shrieked and scrambled in all directions, many quickly knocked down by their own comrades and trampled underfoot.

Sfec's eyes were glazed over, and he kept muttering a single word to himself: 'Hell!'

Yet the Guards Corps infantry, like precise killing machines, rapidly reloaded their muskets, then advanced ten paces to the beat of the drums, unleashing another reaper-like volley...

The Algiers army's second line of defense, affected by the fleeing soldiers, only held for just over ten minutes before also retreating. The third line followed suit.

Kehler could now see the glint of the French infantry's bayonets with his naked eye. He turned to his aide and roared:

"Where are the Moroccans? Why haven't they arrived with reinforcements yet?!"

The aide bowed his head and gestured towards a nearby warhorse:

"My lord, you should retreat as quickly as possible..."

Two kilometers to the west, Said, commander of the Moroccan Black Guards, wiped a cold sweat from his brow as he watched the Algiers forces rapidly collapsing through his telescope.

'Good thing he hadn't agreed to Kehler's request,' he thought. 'This was just the French vanguard, yet it had routed over ten thousand Algiers Janissaries. And there were still nearly twenty thousand main French forces behind them. Going to reinforce them would likely just be a death wish!'

He immediately waved a hand at a nearby Black officer without hesitation:

"Agorde, order the entire army to retreat at once."

In truth, when he learned that the British had ceased their aid, he had already anticipated that this war was destined to fail. That was why, last week, he had already advised the Sultan to withdraw the entire army to Tlemcen Fortress.

Although the Sultan's decree hadn't yet arrived, he knew the Sultan would surely agree to the withdrawal — without British support, Morocco absolutely could not wage war against the French! It would be impossible to win.