Chapter 430: Initial Stabilization of North Africa
Southeast Tunisia.
Tataouine Province, bordered by the sea on one side and the desert on the other.
Ney stood on a high ground, observing Remada town through his telescope, and declared in a low voice:
"The scout's report was accurate; the terrain is indeed well-suited for a legion to deploy.
"If we launch an attack tomorrow morning, we should be able to reclaim the town by noon."
"You are always so full of courage and drive," Moreau said with a faint smile from beside him. "But my advice is, it might be best not to attack there just yet."
Ney looked at him, perplexed. "Why not? The town only has 2,500 Ottomans, and we have 4,000 soldiers. The battle will be over quickly."
Moreau nodded. "Yes, yes, an easy victory, reclaiming an insignificant small town. Perhaps we should even send someone to Tripoli, to politely inform the Ottomans, 'Hey, your French friends have arrived!'"
Ney paused at his words. Indeed, as Moreau had stated, attacking the enemy forces in Remada would certainly alert Tripoli, where nearly 10,000 Ottoman troops were stationed.
Moreau patted his shoulder, then tugged on his horse's reins, turning his mount around:
"We've seen the battlefield. Let's head back for now."
Ney glanced at the annoying noble, spurred his horse to follow, and reluctantly asked:
"So, what's your plan?"
Moreau didn't keep his straightforward partner in the dark:
"Look, while we have 4,000 men, half of them are fresh recruits who have never seen combat. Some of your soldiers even lack essential training."
Their previous unexpected victory in Tamra had earned them fiefdoms. Spurred by this news, nobles flocked to Tunisia, eager to "pursue glory." As for commoners, the General Staff Headquarters had established a "quick training camp," offering five months of basic instruction to inexperienced but willing recruits. After training, they could serve in less intense combat zones. For those who had served in night patrol teams or rural security forces, the training period could be shortened to two months.
These "fresh recruits" arrived in Tunisia via naval transport ships. Joseph directly placed them under Moreau and Ney's command, tasking the two with leading the battle for Tripoli. However, Berthier remained cautious and sent an experienced staff officer to assist the young commanders.
Moreau continued, "It's difficult to predict what might happen if we use such a force to directly assault Tripoli."
Ney muttered, "Once our cannons arrive, nothing will be a problem."
Indeed, Moreau's side had gained over a dozen young nobles who knew how to operate cannons — they had directly left military academy to join. Currently, this young legion not only boasted artillery but also an astonishing 1,200 cavalrymen, an incredibly high proportion. Most of them were Moreau's noble classmates from school, which was a logistical nightmare for the local Tunisian government responsible for their supplies.
Moreau nodded. "Cannons can solve some problems, but if we can lure Benghioul's main force out of Tripoli, things will be much simpler."
A flash of surprise crossed Ney's eyes. "You must have thought of a way!"
While he disliked the cunning noble, he still acknowledged the man's intellect.
"I'm not entirely sure it will work, but we can try."
Moreau spoke, gazing east. "Ah, my lovely fiefdom. I wonder how much it produces each year."
Ney shot him a disdainful look, muttering, 'Are all nobles this greedy?'
The next noon, Moreau "requisitioned" a large quantity of supplies from the nearest town, Mahdia. These items, however, had nothing to do with combat; they included expensive clothing, jewelry, handicrafts, and spices. Under his forced command, Mahdia was practically emptied.
If he hadn't posted soldiers to block the town hall, Mahdia's officials would have long since rushed to the Governor to lodge complaints.
The veteran staff officer sent by General Staff Headquarters was terrified and repeatedly urged Moreau to return the goods quickly, warning of a court-martial. Ney, however, was already accustomed to his partner's illicit actions; this time, he merely reiterated to the local officials that the matter had absolutely nothing to do with him, and was entirely the doing of an officer named Moreau.
Back at the "God's Guidance" Cavalry Regiment camp, Moreau called upon the noble soldiers to donate all their valuables, promising to return them immediately after the battle for Tripoli concluded, along with an additional 40% interest.
After the preparations were complete, a luxurious caravan of seventeen or eighteen carriages departed from Mahdia, heading south towards the Ghadames tribe in the oasis.
The caravan brazenly arrived near Remada, the southernmost town in Tunisia. Seeing that night was falling, they set up camp on the spot to rest.
Inevitably, the Ottoman cavalry occupying Remada soon spotted this "fat sheep" during their patrol, and immediately returned to the town to report their discovery.
A few hours later, nearly a thousand Ottoman soldiers swarmed out, quickly routed the caravan's guards, and made off with the carriages.
The commanding officer, upon hearing the soldiers report their haul, was instantly overjoyed — a rough estimate put the value of the goods at nearly 100,000 rials!
Soon, he learned from the captured merchants that this was only the first batch of goods from a certain Italian caravan, and nearly seven times that amount of cargo would arrive at Tataouine Port half a month later.
However, with such valuable cargo came a larger escort. According to the merchant, the Italian caravan had hired French regular army soldiers for protection, possibly more than an entire regiment, meaning nearly 2,000 men.
The officer immediately transported the stolen goods back to the town and sent messengers to deliver the news to Tripoli.
In Tripoli's white palace, Benghioul's eyes lit up when he heard that cargo worth a staggering 700,000 rials was slated to arrive in Tataouine.
700,000 rials—that was over 15 million livres! For any warlord, it was an irresistible fortune.
Especially after the British had promised 100,000 pounds sterling in "benefits," only paid a fraction, and then suddenly ceased payments, this fortune was exactly what he needed.
The troops under his command had been dispatched from Istanbul. If he couldn't provide them with sufficient rewards, they wouldn't hesitate to replace him with one of their own as the Pasha of Tripoli—a long-standing tradition among the Ottoman Guard, who had even intervened multiple times to replace Ottoman Sultans.
After a brief hesitation, Benghioul decided to personally lead 6,000 soldiers, combined with the 2,000 men from Remada, to Tataouine Port for the heist.
He had recently received intelligence that the main French forces were currently engaged with Algerians over 400 miles away in Annaba, meaning Tataouine had a force of less than 2,000 men.
And Tataouine Port was only about 70 miles from Tripoli; a quick march would get them there in a week.
Leading an 8,000-strong army for a surprise attack, he was confident of an easy victory.
Once they seized the 700,000 rials worth of goods, he would use a portion to bribe Istanbul's high-ranking officials, then retreat with the rest to defend Tripoli. Should things go awry in the future, he would abandon the city's defense to his subordinates and flee back to Istanbul to enjoy his wealth.
Four days later.
Benghioul gazed back at the desolate plains behind him, an irrepressible excitement surging in his heart. They were now within Tunisian territory, and his scout cavalry had reported no signs of any military presence all the way to Mahdia.
News from the Tripoli navy confirmed that a large merchant fleet had indeed set sail from Genoa not long ago, heading south.
Moreau hadn't even bothered to falsify information about the fleet—Mediterranean trade was flourishing, with countless merchant ships traveling between Italy and North Africa daily. Benghioul would naturally "claim" one of these fleets as his target.
As Benghioul's troops reached a hilly area near Mahdia, chaotic shouts suddenly erupted from ahead.
He frowned, turning to an officer beside him. "What's happening?"
The marching column was too long; he was in the middle-to-rear of the force, nearly two kilometers from the vanguard.
Before the officer could dispatch cavalry to investigate, Benghioul faintly heard a volley of dense gunfire.
Having some battlefield experience, he immediately deduced that it was a volley from at least a thousand enemy troops.
'Where did these enemies come from?' He hastily ordered his troops to deploy defensive formations on the spot and personally organized his cavalry to prepare for battle.
However, before his cavalry could even gather, the ground began to tremble slightly, followed by the sound of hooves, like a sudden downpour drumming on a roof.
All the Ottoman soldiers froze, looking in the direction of the sound. Before long, a vast swarm of cavalry in white uniforms surged from the distant hills, brandishing sabers as they charged towards them.
In front of the Ottoman forces, Ney commanded a disciplined line of infantry, consisting of over 2,000 soldiers, steadily advancing step by step towards the enemy.
Thanks to the ample preparation time, he was finally able to get these fresh soldiers to form neat, orderly ranks.
In the era of flintlock muskets, a marching column simply could not defeat a disciplined line of infantry; even Frederick the Great, if reborn, couldn't achieve it.
After just three rather ragged volleys, the Ottomans began to scatter and flee.
Meanwhile, Moreau's thousand cavalrymen had already shattered Benghioul's rear guard and were now turning their horses to regroup.
Benghioul watched his soldiers, who had fallen into chaos around him, and desperately closed his eyes before drawing the pistol from his waist...
Outside Tripoli.
Moreau lowered his telescope, pointed to a large expanse of farmland on the southeast side of the ancient city, and said gleefully to Ney:
"Look, that's my fiefdom over there."
He then gestured a little further south. "Ah, that should be your fiefdom. It seems we'll be neighbors for a long time."
Ney frowned, interrupting him. "The cannons! Can't you focus on when those damned cannons will finally arrive?"
Although Benghioul was dead, the Ottoman troops in Tripoli were not his loyal forces to begin with. They quickly appointed a new commander and continued to fiercely defend the ancient city.
Without the help of cannons, breaching its defenses would indeed be a challenge.
"Celestine!" Moreau turned and shouted, "Go see where those damned cannons have gotten to!"
While Moreau was turned away, Ney quickly grabbed the telescope and peered southeast, a thrill surging through him. 'Good heavens! That truly is excellent land, it looks far more fertile than the soil back home!'
Over an hour later, the much-anticipated cannons finally appeared beneath the walls of Tripoli.
As the cannon fire erupted, the legion's soldiers eagerly rubbed their hands, their eyes gleaming with anticipation—if they could conquer Tripoli, they too might acquire a piece of land nearby.
The moment a small breach appeared in the Ottoman defenders' formation, several companies of soldiers charged forward with fervent zeal, accompanied by the thunderous roar of cannons...
Indian Peninsula.
Salem, an eastern city in Mysore.
Inside a luxurious sedan chair carried by over 20 people, Tipu Sultan sighed again, looking towards the faintly visible river in the distance, his voice filled with melancholy:
"I truly wish you could stay here forever. You've helped Mysore achieve tremendous victories."
Lafayette also sighed:
"I too am reluctant to leave beautiful Mysore, but as you know, the British are inciting their proxies to invade our Tunisia. I must return to fight them."
Of course, this was merely an excuse. In reality, the battles in Annaba and Tripoli had already concluded, and upon his return, he was expected to head directly to Versailles for his promotion ceremony.
His letter of appointment as "Assistant Provisional Minister of War" had already been signed by His Majesty the King. His performance in India this time had been satisfactory, inflicting significant losses on the British, but he hadn't completed the mission to "defeat the British," hence the "Provisional" added to his title.
Nevertheless, this was already the position of a highly ranked and influential minister. He could well imagine the fawning expressions of those nobles who had once scorned him when they now saw him.
"Damned British!" Tipu Sultan angrily slapped the armrest, then shook his head. "From now on, I will have to face these devils alone."
Lafayette, recalling the Crown Prince's instructions, quickly whispered:
"You needn't worry; other friends will certainly come to your aid."
Tipu Sultan's eyes instantly brightened:
"You mean...?"
Lafayette leaned in closer:
"All weapons, cannon-casting materials, medicine, gunpowder, military uniforms, and so forth will be transported from the Ottoman direction. However, the prices will be slightly higher than before."
The Ottoman Empire was Mysore's traditional trading partner, with many fleets traveling between them. These coastal merchant ships sailed close to the shoreline, making them flexible and covert; even if the British fleet crammed the Indian Ocean, it would be difficult to stop them.
"Excellent!" Tipu Sultan exclaimed with delight. "The price is not important."
Mysore boasted a population of 18 million and had long engaged in trade with Europe, resulting in a very prosperous treasury.
Lafayette continued, "There are two more things you must bear in mind."
"Please, tell me," Tipu Sultan immediately sat up straight.
"Firstly, you must stockpile large quantities of food, and preferably ammunition, in major cities such as Mysore, Seringapatam, and Salem."
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