Chapter 810: Fierce Battle in Piedmont
Joubert had studied the terrain surrounding Alessandria on his way there. Upon hearing the report, he replied immediately, "It seems Melas intends to strike north toward Pavia."
Napoleon, however, appeared hesitant.
He couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong, but he had the nagging sensation that everything was proceeding just a bit too smoothly.
It made him feel uneasy.
Turning to the cavalry commander, Garda, he instructed, "Send your men to verify the situation at the Bormida River once more, then report back to me."
"Understood, Commander!"
Garda took his leave and personally led half a company of scouts to the eastern bank of the Bormida River.
Before long, through his telescope, he spotted a large contingent of Austrian engineers working frantically. The bridge decking on the western side had completely vanished, matching his subordinate's earlier report perfectly.
However, the riverbanks were thick with trees, obscuring his vision. He decided to risk a closer approach to the bank for a more thorough reconnaissance.
An oak tree beside him was struck by a round shot, snapping in half instantly. Shards of wood sprayed over the scouts.
Garda stole a nervous glance at the jagged stump of the massive tree, then hurriedly peered through his telescope at the bridge again. It appeared as though even the western bridge piers had been dismantled.
The distant thunder of artillery sounded once more. Daring not to linger, he wheeled his horse around and retreated.
Back at the French camp, Napoleon looked at Garda and asked, "Are you certain even the piers were dismantled?"
"I am certain, Commander," the latter asserted with conviction. "At least four of the main support pillars were missing. That bridge is definitely out of commission."
Napoleon nodded, then turned to Joubert, who had been waiting in his tent. "Take the Toulouse Legion and the Moulins Legion to Mede immediately. Be prepared for the possibility that the Austrian army has already crossed the river."
"I will lead the troops from Pavia personally. I'll arrive by tomorrow afternoon at the latest."
Mede was a city located six kilometers north of the Tanaro River. If they were to intercept the crossing Austrian forces, the area south of Mede would be the ideal position.
"Yes, Commander!"
Joubert was about to depart when something occurred to him. He turned back to ask, "You didn't mention the Lyon Legion just now?"
"Correct," Napoleon nodded. "Let them remain at San Giuliano."
"But that..."
Napoleon's voice left no room for argument. "The decision is made."
He couldn't explain why, but his intuition told him he needed to maintain a guard on the eastern flank of Alessandria.
At most, he would have the Lyon Legion position themselves further north and prepare their logistics in advance. That way, it would take only a single day for them to reach Mede and join the battle if needed.
As dusk approached, the Bormida River became even more bustling than it had been during the day.
Hundreds of Austrian engineers were hauling massive quantities of timber from the nearby woods, nailing them back onto the bridge piers.
In truth, the piers of those two bridges had never been dismantled. They had merely been painted with a matte grey-black oil, making them nearly impossible to distinguish from the riverbank behind them when viewed from a distance.
This clever ruse had successfully led Garda to make a false judgment.
By dawn the next day, the bridges over the Bormida had been fully repaired, and two additional pontoon bridges had been constructed alongside them.
The Melas Legion had long since finished gathering. Without even sounding a bugle, they began to cross the river quietly under the direction of their officers.
Heavy equipment, such as cannons and wagons, utilized the wooden bridges, while the infantry crossed via the pontoons.
In just two hours, fifty thousand men of the Coalition Forces, along with all their gear, had successfully reached the eastern bank of the Bormida River.
It was only then that Garda's scouts discovered the Austrian movement during their routine patrol.
Unsure of the enemy's true strength, Garda first sent a cavalry company to launch a probing attack, which was—unsurprisingly—swiftly repulsed.
At this point, the French finally realized that Melas had played a cunning hand.
Augereau, who was closest to the eastern bank, hurriedly led the four thousand soldiers of the Lyon Legion to intercept the enemy while sending a messenger to Napoleon in Pavia with an urgent report.
To his east, the Marmont Legion also rushed forward to provide reinforcements.
By the time they reached the village of Marengo on the banks of the Bormida, they finally collided with the Austrian vanguard.
Inside the temporary Coalition headquarters, Melas's expression darkened as he listened to his staff officer's report on the situation at the front.
"Why are there still French troops here?"
He had spotted tens of thousands of French troops massing on the north bank of the Tanaro River and was fully convinced he had deceived them. He hadn't expected to be met with a head-on blow the moment he crossed the river.
The suddenly appearing French forces were exceptionally fierce, quickly scattering two regiments of his vanguard.
Beside him, Cervoni mused, "General, if there are only a few thousand Frenchmen, it's very likely just a unit that happened to be passing through."
Melas nodded grimly. "This is our only chance. We must crush them before the French can react!"
He turned to a nearby courier. "Order the Argenteau Legion to lead the main assault. Have the Argentau and Colli Legions flank the enemy from the left and right."
"Cannons—push all the cannons to the front."
"I want complete control over the village of Marengo before noon!"
"Yes, General!"
Inside the church at Marengo, a relaxed smile played on Augereau's face. He stood with his officers around a map, discussing their tactical deployment and occasionally sharing a few casual remarks.
After this series of campaigns in Italy, the French army had established a massive psychological advantage over the Austrians.
In almost every battle, they had won despite being outnumbered, and they felt the Austrian army was utterly fragile.
"Perhaps by the time Colonel Bonaparte arrives, we will have already defeated Melas," Augereau remarked.
Just as he spoke, the thunderous roar of artillery erupted from the west.
He could tell almost instantly that these were 12-pounder heavy cannons—at least fifteen of them—intermingled with the sharper cracks of numerous 8-pounders and 4-pounders.
His heart tightened.
With such a scale, had Melas committed his entire main force?
As if to confirm his suspicion, two scouts rushed to the church exterior and shouted, "Colonel! Over fifteen thousand Austrians are approaching from the west. Enemy signs have also been spotted to the north and south!"
Augereau was a man of fiery temperament; he had no intention of retreating. Instead, he looked at a nearby officer and commanded, "Major Bernard, your infantry regiment will be responsible for the frontal defense."
"Captain Bonnet, attack the enemy's flank from the north of the village. The terrain is higher there and can provide cover for your movements."
"Also, send word to Major Marmont. Have him bring reinforcements as quickly as possible."
"Understood, Colonel!"
The Austrian Argenteau Legion was completely caught off guard. Just as they reached the outskirts of Marengo, a French force of fewer than three thousand men launched a proactive assault against them.
The French were incredibly ferocious. Six charging columns braved the whistling round shot, surging out of the village and appearing before the Austrians at a distance of barely a hundred paces in an instant.
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