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Chapter 750: The Paris Police Academy Assessment

Alois suddenly exclaimed, "Do you remember? The instructors in Paris said the training we received was enough to handle a real army."

Bourget nodded, listening to the increasingly clear Austrian military drumbeats. "That's right, even against the Austrian army, we might not lose!"

"Don't be afraid, everyone! Just treat them like gangsters and fight them!"

"Right, just a gang with more members."

The Walloon Police said as much, but their hands, gripping their muskets until their knuckles were white, betrayed their lack of confidence.

Bourget remembered something else, looking at the Austrian soldiers faintly visible in the distance. He said, "The officer mentioned that after this fight is over, we'll get triple pay."

The generous bonus immediately eased everyone's tension, and some even showed hopeful expressions.

The coal and iron mines of Wallonia had brought immense wealth to the region, and combined with access to Rhine River trade, the Walloon Chamber of Commerce was rolling in money. Giving the police a few extra months' salary wouldn't even make them bat an eye.

Before long, rhythmic military drumbeats also echoed at the front of the Walloon Police formation.

He silently murmured, 'God protect us,' and raised his flintlock musket.

The Austrian skirmishers advanced, maintaining a distance of three or four paces between them, appearing remarkably relaxed.

They knew well that police could only bully thieves and robbers; against a real army, they were utterly vulnerable.

Soon, they would only need two or three volleys, and the seemingly neat formation ahead would shatter.

After that, it would be a simple matter of chasing them for several hundred meters, then accepting their surrender or gunning them down.

"Aim—"

The sergeants in charge of each section of the Line Formation grew impatient from nervousness when the Austrians were still more than 80 paces away.

"Fire—"

As thick gunpowder smoke permeated the police formation, dense volleys of lead flew towards the Austrian soldiers like a downpour.

The Austrian skirmishers, however, all sneered inwardly.

'Just a bunch of police who'd never seen battle,' they thought. 'At such a long range, flintlock muskets are practically useless.'

The Austrian officers, highly experienced, immediately ordered the drummers to quicken the pace, increasing the soldiers' speed of advance.

Those police had wasted their precious first volley of ammunition. Before they could reload, the Austrian troops would be close enough to inflict heavy casualties with point-blank fire!

In an instant, over a thousand Austrian skirmishers charged to within 50 paces of the police Line Formation. The drumbeats abruptly ceased, and an officer immediately raised a hand, shouting, "Prepare. Aim—"

What they hadn't expected was that the shout of "Aim" also rang out from the opposing police Line Formation.

The Austrian officers couldn't help but feel astonished. Logically speaking, their own troops had only advanced about 30 paces; the police opposite shouldn't possibly have finished reloading yet.

'A bluff? Or had the police commander panicked and was issuing commands randomly?'

The Austrian officer waved his hand and shouted, "Fire—"

Almost simultaneously, the Walloon Police issued the same command: "Fire—"

Two long lines of muzzle flashes, stretching for over a kilometer, erupted, and groans and screams rose from both the Austrian troops and the police.

The Austrian officers watched in astonishment as soldiers beside them were hit and fell. They all shared the same thought: 'How could those police reload so quickly?!'

Indeed, although the Walloon Police only trained for one month each year at the Paris Police Academy, that was the Paris Police Academy!

Even if their assessment standards were much lower than those for regular police cadets, they were still enough to rival the Austrian regular army.

They even surpassed many poorly trained Austrian soldiers in skill.

The sergeants of the Walloon Police suddenly recalled the scenes of practical combat training in Paris.

At the time, they had all complained why they, as police officers, had to practice Line Formations, dense bayonet formations, and even subjects like operating alongside artillery.

If it hadn't been for the training stipend incentivizing them, they might not even have completed that series of complex assessments.

Only at this moment did they understand how meaningful the training they had received earlier truly was.

As if by instinct, the sergeants commanding the Line Formation all loudly urged, "Reload! Don't just stand there, reload now!"

Bourget caught the scent of blood, and his hands trembled.

But he felt as if he was back at his first practical combat assessment, with the instructor constantly scolding from behind, "You're about to be eliminated, hurry up!"

The speed of his hands abruptly picked up pace.

Just like during that assessment.

With his firm resolve, he had successfully earned the allowance for passing the assessment.

Ramming the bullet home, he reinserted the ramrod beneath the barrel, then poured priming powder into the pan and pulled back the cock.

He heard the sergeant's voice in his ear: "Prepare—"

He raised his Flintlock Musket, but unexpectedly found that the Austrians opposite still seemed to be loading powder.

In that instant, a strange thought popped into his head: 'They're probably going to fail their assessment.'

"Aim. Fire—" The Walloon Police Line Formation was the first to spew dense flames.

Dozens of Austrian soldiers were knocked to the ground by the incoming lead bullets just as they raised their muskets.

Listening to their comrades' horrified screams, the others' eyes filled with terror.

'Were those really a group of police officers opposite?'

'Their training level is excessively high!'

Under the repeated urging of the Austrian officers, the Austrian soldiers hurriedly raised their muskets and returned fire.

Their numbers were originally fewer than the police, and they were in a Skirmisher formation, so their firepower density was far inferior to a Line Formation. Consequently, their counterattack only killed about ten police officers.

"Reload! Quick!"

"Hurry up, reload!"

Following the shouts of both commanders, another round of reloading began.

But the Austrians were already a beat slow from the start, and with comparable training levels, being a step behind in one action meant being behind every step of the way.

As the gunpowder smoke all around was dispersed by the breeze, Bourget, while ramming the powder home, looked up. The Austrians opposite clearly had heavier casualties than his side, and their reloading speed was also slower.

A surge of confidence suddenly rose in his heart.

'It seemed the instructors at the police academy hadn't deceived him.'

"Aim. Fire—" The police Line Formation's volley once again took the lead without exception.

A pervasive mist of blood hung over the Austrian side. This time, the police's accuracy seemed even better than the last, and an additional dozen or so Austrian soldiers fell.

Indeed, the situation on the battlefield made many police officers, like Bourget, find their confidence, and their performance became more stable.

After the police delivered their fifth volley, some Austrians finally could no longer withstand the assault and hastily fell back in disarray.

Before long, sporadic retreats turned into a full-blown rout.

Buseck's Legion left behind nearly 200 bodies, fleeing for two kilometers until they met Count Radetzky's main force, only then halting their retreat.