Chapter 748: Unexpected
Lille, in northwestern France.
Outside the French Southern Netherlands Army Command headquarters.
Joseph raised an Auguste Pattern 1790 Chasseur Rifle, aimed it at a small wooden barrel 75 meters away, then held his breath and squeezed the trigger.
A resounding "Bang!" shattered the air as the spinning bullet flew straight towards its target.
The next moment, wood splinters flew everywhere, and a palm-sized bullet hole appeared in the center of the barrel.
Joseph observed the distant barrel with satisfaction, then raised the rifle, took a powder pouch from Eman, poured its contents into the muzzle, inserted a lead bullet, and used the ramrod to firmly tamp it down.
The reloading process was surprisingly easy; to an outsider, the weapon in his hands would undoubtedly appear to be a smoothbore musket.
Yet, the Auguste Pattern 1790 Chasseur Rifle was, in fact, a genuine rifle.
It boasted not only a formidable range but also exceptional accuracy.
Typically, such a distance was the domain of artillery. With an ordinary flintlock musket, hitting a target 50 meters away relied entirely on sheer luck.
Although most nations now fielded chasseurs equipped with rifles, their reloading time was more than one and a half times longer than that of the Auguste Pattern 1790, which utilized the "Thouvenin system."
Consequently, most chasseur units were organized at the company level—primarily tasked with finding opportunities to snipe officers on the battlefield. Given their firing rate, too many of them would actually hinder combat effectiveness.
French chasseurs, however, were organized at the battalion level, and as the arms factories steadily increased their output, they would soon be able to expand into full chasseur regiments.
This was due to the Auguste Pattern 1790's exceptionally high rate of fire, allowing chasseurs to be effectively used against ordinary enemy soldiers. Naturally, the more of them, the better.
If French infantry were ever fully equipped with this rifle, they could virtually shatter enemy infantry lines from over 75 meters away!
Just as Joseph fitted a percussion cap onto the chasseur rifle, preparing for another shot, an officer approached briskly, saluted him by tipping his hat, and announced, "Your Highness, riots of considerable scale erupted simultaneously in Wavre and other locations yesterday morning."
As there were no Chappe Telegraph stations in the Southern Netherlands, news from Wavre required over a day to reach the French border. However, once there, it was transmitted to Lille in mere minutes.
Joseph took the report, scanned it, and nodded. "It aligns largely with the Intelligence Bureau's analysis," he stated.
He then turned to the officer again. "What about the movements of the Walloon Chamber of Commerce?" he inquired.
"Your Highness, President Chevènement has already convinced the Wallonia Regional Committee to shift the main police force south of Brussels five days ago, as per our recommendation. Logistics supplies are stored in Tubize and will not be impacted by the riots."
"Chevènement has done exceptionally well," Joseph remarked, turning to signal a dispatch rider. "Have General Lefebvre's forces depart.
"Oh, and Count Segur may now proceed to Württemberg."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
General Lefebvre, leading the Royal First Infantry Division and two skirmisher regiments, was still awaiting orders in Artois.
This was why Prince Coburg's intelligence indicated that the French army on the Southern Netherlands border comprised only 12,000 men.
However, Lefebvre's troops were fully prepared. All their personal effects would be transported via wooden rail, allowing the soldiers to march unburdened and even take turns riding carriages. This meant they could reach Lille from the rear of Artois in just one day.
As for Prince Coburg's assertion that the "French army would need a week to reach Brussels," that was utterly baseless.
At the marching pace of the corps directly under the General Staff, 100 kilometers could be covered in just three days!
Meanwhile, Count Segur, Assistant to the Foreign Minister, would engage in intensive diplomatic activities across the South German states, vehemently denouncing Austria for violating agreements and brazenly invading the Walloon demilitarized zone.
Joseph was keenly aware of the historical lesson of Emperor Napoleon, who often neglected diplomatic subtleties in favor of brute force, and was determined to avoid repeating such mistakes.
Often, taking the moral high ground might seem inconsequential, but its influence is often subtle and far-reaching, capable of reshaping the entire European landscape when it finally takes effect.
...
North of Wavre.
In a dry river valley, hundreds of tents had suddenly appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
Though no flags were visible around the tents, three to four hundred men, armed with flintlock muskets, were constantly patrolling the vicinity.
Beside one tent, Bourget removed his hat, glanced at the bright sun overhead, and sighed to the round-faced young man leaning on hay to his left. "Looks like we won't be heading back this week. Good heavens, in five days it's my turn for training in Paris! Why in the world are we having 'field training' right at this moment?!"
For Walloon police like them, the annual training in Paris was a highly anticipated event. Though the training itself could be arduous, the bustling streets of Paris, its fashionable women, and exquisite goods always left them yearning for more. Not to mention the additional training allowance they received.
The round-faced young man leaned closer. "Ha! Forget about your 'vacation'," he said. "I heard Superintendent Debray say this morning that Landen has also been occupied by the rioters."
Bourget frowned. "Are these damn Flemish people mad? Do they really think Wallonia is theirs?"
A middle-aged policeman, sharpening his bayonet nearby, remarked, "Clearly, someone is organizing them. I'm from Namur, and there's trouble there too, though not as severe as up north."
Bourget asked anxiously, "Then why aren't we going to quell the riots? I'm certain that with a single order from the superintendent, we could sort those fellows out in just one day!"
The middle-aged man surveyed the desolate river valley around them, shaking his head. "Who knows? I heard even the police stations in Mons and Lonrée have been emptied..."
He wasn't mistaken; at this moment, over half of Wallonia's police force, totaling more than 4,000 officers, were concentrated here. Only a small fraction remained in their respective jurisdictions, contending with the rioters.
The round-faced policeman looked around, then lowered his voice. "Don't you think," he began, "that it's possible the Police Bureau's higher-ups are in league with the Flemish?"
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Bourget exclaimed.
"Then why are we doing 'field training' right now, and getting double pay for it? Doesn't that strike you as odd?"
Bourget and the others, hearing his words, genuinely felt a flicker of uncertainty.
Just then, the blare of an assembly horn abruptly echoed through the camp.
Drummers immediately emerged from their tents, circling their respective squad areas, beating their drums to gather the officers.
Thanks to the continuous training over the past few days, the officers responded with remarkable speed. In less than 20 minutes, a kilometer-long formation had assembled on the open ground before the river valley.
The senior officer from Bourget's police station stepped to the front of the ranks, his expression grave. "Carefully check your ammunition," he announced. "Today is not a training exercise; we are going into live combat!"
Bourget's face lit up. "Sir, are we going to deal with those rioters?"
"No, we're going to confront the Austrians."
...
Count Radetzky rode on horseback, slowly advancing with the seemingly endless column of marching troops.
He turned his head to ask the staff officer beside him, "How much farther to Wavre?"
"A little over half a kilometer, General."
An "auri" was approximately seven kilometers.
This meant that the Austrian army had already advanced deep into Wallonia, covering a considerable distance.
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