Chapter 843: Counterattacking the Rhineland
The Fortress of Luxembourg.
In the late afternoon, on the second day after Masséna’s feigned defeat and westward retreat, Soult rapped sharply on the door of Berthier’s office.
"Enter," Berthier said, setting aside the ammunition stockpile reports he had been reviewing.
Soult stepped inside and offered a quick tip of his hat, his expression grave. "General, I believe there has been a significant shift in the theater of operations."
"Tell me what you’ve observed."
"First, the sound of cannon fire to the north has been silent for over a day," Soult explained. "Second, the enemy forces besieging the fortress have shifted more of their strength toward the northwest, and the frequency of their attacks has dropped off significantly."
Previously, the southernmost point of the engagement between the French and the Coalition forces at Brusche had been less than six miles from the Luxembourg fortress. On a clear day with the wind blowing in the right direction, the distant thunder of heavy artillery could be heard clearly within the walls.
Berthier looked up at him. "You’re suggesting that our front lines have moved?"
"Precisely, General," Soult nodded. "The enemy encircling us is concentrating toward the northwest, likely to prevent us from learning what is happening in that sector."
Soult immediately shook his head. "It is unlikely that our forces were defeated. If they were, Ferdinand would surely have diverted troops to intensify the assault on us. But no such reinforcements have appeared."
Berthier sighed. "So, Masséna is planning something, but we have no way to contact him for the moment."
Soult walked over to the map and pointed toward the Ardennes. "General, I suspect Masséna’s Legion is trying to lure the enemy deep into the Ardennes plateau.
"And there can be only one reason for doing that: to clear the roads northeast of Luxembourg."
Berthier still looked puzzled. "And what does that gain us?"
A sharp light flickered in Soult’s eyes. "The path to Trier is now completely unobstructed. General, I believe General Masséna wants us to launch a counteroffensive!"
Berthier stood up slowly, his eyes fixed on Trier on the map. He had to admit that Soult’s suggestion was incredibly tempting.
While there were still fifteen thousand Coalition troops outside the fortress, he knew the quality of those forces. Only the four thousand Hanoverians posed any real threat; the rest were largely there to make up the numbers.
He held three regiments of the elite Royal First Infantry Division. Those five thousand men alone were enough to shatter the encirclement.
Furthermore, he had the Champagne Legion—one of the most capable units of the old army. Their cavalry battalion was particularly elite; because of their high standards, more than half of their men had been recruited into the Royal Hussar Battalion.
If they launched a sudden strike, there was a very high probability they could take Trier, or perhaps even Koblenz!
Still, a trace of worry lingered. "If we leave the fortress and Ferdinand’s main force turns to attack us..."
"General, you must have faith in the direct legions," Soult said with conviction. "The Prussians cannot possibly pull away enough troops to attack us while being harassed by Masséna.
"Once we launch our counterattack, we will immediately send cavalry to scout the west. If we find the enemy is too close, we can simply fall back to the fortress. We should have more than enough time."
Berthier pondered for a moment before turning to a nearby staff officer. "Summon all mid-level and senior officers for a war council immediately."
"Yes, General!"
The following morning.
The Coalition forces besieging Luxembourg were following their usual routine, dragging out their cannons and calibrating their firing angles, preparing for another dull and likely fruitless day of bombardment.
Suddenly, the fortress walls erupted with a ferocious artillery barrage. The intensity of the fire was triple or quadruple what it had been previously.
The Coalition troops were caught completely off guard, stunned by the sheer volume of fire.
Moments later, the outermost gates of the fortress swung open, and over a thousand French Hussars charged out, sabers flashing as they thundered toward the enemy.
Caught unprepared, the Coalition artillery positions to the north were overrun in an instant. Following the cavalry, the French horse artillery quickly seized the most advantageous firing positions, providing cover for the infantry as they launched a crushing assault against the Hanoverian forces to the west.
The Hanoverian army was still in a loose siege formation, their lines spread thin. In less than two hours, the French infantry lines, working in perfect concert with the cavalry, had completed an encirclement.
By half-past ten in the morning, the main Hanoverian force surrendered. It was only then that the troops from Trier and Mainz realized what was happening and scrambled to mobilize reinforcements.
At noon, Soult commanded three thousand men from the Royal First Infantry Division, supported by artillery, and routed the Trier forces.
Simultaneously, the Champagne Legion repelled the advancing reinforcements from Mainz on the western flank.
The encirclement that had choked the Luxembourg fortress for so long was half-shattered in a single morning.
Berthier stood atop the fortress walls, watching the battle through his telescope. The overwhelming success did not surprise him. Had he not been worried about the enemy’s main force lurking nearby, he could have broken out at any time.
Now, it seemed Soult’s judgment was correct. More than half the day had passed, and no enemy reinforcements had appeared.
He turned to a nearby messenger. "Leave three thousand men from the Army of the Alps to defend the fortress.
"Order Soult to lead the rest of the legions to Steinsel to regroup. We move out tomorrow morning at dawn. I want us to reach the west bank of the Zell River before nightfall."
That afternoon, as Soult gathered his troops and marched toward Steinsel, he received a report from his scouts. No Coalition forces were spotted within a twelve-mile radius northwest of Luxembourg.
A smirk touched his lips. 'It seems my hunch was right.'
At four-thirty the following afternoon, Soult led his eleven thousand soldiers to the banks of the Zell River, just west of Trier. As they were preparing to pitch camp for the night, a cavalry scout suddenly sounded the alarm, reporting a force of several thousand men approaching from the north.
Soult’s heart tightened. If Ferdinand had managed to spare troops to reinforce Trier, this entire expedition might end in failure.
However, ten minutes later, another scout rode up, his face bright with excitement. "Commander! It’s Oudinot’s Legion. They’ve been here waiting for us!"
Soult let out a long breath of relief and ordered his troops to link up with Oudinot’s forces.
Twenty minutes later, he met Oudinot in person.
Oudinot tipped his hat with a broad grin. "The Crown Prince said you would surely launch a counterattack. It seems he was right—here we are."
Soult was stunned. "His Royal Highness the Crown Prince is in Luxembourg?"
"Indeed. He brought the Southern Netherlands Army with him. General Masséna has already lured Ferdinand’s main force west of Wiltz..." Oudinot paused and waved a hand dismissively. "But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. While there’s still light, we must cross the river."
"Cross the river?"
"Yes," Oudinot nodded, pointing toward the Zell. "I had the engineers set up pontoon bridges yesterday. General Masséna’s orders are for us to cross and immediately launch an assault on Koblenz!"
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