Chapter 844: Rout and Retreat
The Duke of Brunswick’s complexion instantly turned a shade more skeletal than that of the messenger standing before him.
He stood frozen for several minutes, his mind struggling to process the staggering reality. Finally, he looked toward his chief of staff, his voice hollow. "Order the Derenberg Corps to intercept the enemy north of Wiltz. Everyone else is to pivot and retreat north. We fall back through Prüm and return to Geldern."
Derenberg was the commander of the Bavarian forces. With more than eleven thousand soldiers still under his command, he should have been able to delay the French advance for a time.
However, the Duke of Brunswick remained blissfully unaware that two days prior, Masséna had already ordered Saint-Hilaire to lead seven thousand men to the Our River to establish defensive positions. Their mission was simple: sever the Coalition’s line of retreat.
Meanwhile, in the north-central Ardennes.
The Duke of York stared at the long, thin line of French defenses on the distant hillside, simmering in a state of impotent rage.
He had just received word of the attack on Trier and the news that the Duke of Brunswick’s forces had been shattered. Yet, he could do nothing.
His troops had been pinned down near Burgplatz Peak for an entire week.
The cursed Frenchmen, taking full advantage of the high ground, refused to engage him in a decisive head-on battle. Instead, they constantly shifted their lines backward, trading space for time and bleeding his momentum dry.
Once the French completely finished off the Duke of Brunswick, they would undoubtedly consolidate their main forces to crush him next.
York summoned two Austrian generals and briefly summarized the situation before declaring with a dark expression, "We cannot continue to waste our strength here."
"Order the troops to march east immediately," he commanded. "We will link up with the Duke of Brunswick near the Sauer River."
Count Clerfayt immediately interjected, "Your Highness, our most urgent priority is not meeting the main Coalition force. We must return to Cologne as quickly as possible to prevent the French forces from Trier from seizing the city."
York’s heart skipped a beat at those words.
In his desperation to reinforce Brunswick, he had forgotten that his own retreat was at risk!
With Koblenz and Mainz already in French hands, the ferry at Cologne was their only remaining path back to the east bank of the Rhine.
He took a deep breath, his cane thumping heavily against the grass as he gritted his teeth. "We retreat to Cologne. The Duke of Brunswick will have to find his own way back."
Major General Gaillard, commander of the Walloon Legion, noticed the Coalition’s artillery fire beginning to slacken. Sensing something was amiss, he immediately ordered his cavalry to scout ahead.
Half an hour later, the scouts returned with their report. "General, the enemy appears to be retreating."
Gaillard exhaled a long sigh of relief. It seemed his mission had been successfully completed.
He turned to the adjutant standing nearby. "Tell the men to rest where they are. We should be returning to Namur shortly."
Brigadier General Quentin, the second-in-command of the Walloon Legion, paused in thought before leaning in. "General, according to the battle reports sent from headquarters yesterday, our army has launched a full-scale counteroffensive across the Ardennes."
"If I’m not mistaken," Quentin continued, "the British forces across from us are likely moving to support their main body."
Gaillard nodded slowly. "Most likely. And your point?"
"This is a golden opportunity for us to earn some merit, General," Quentin urged. "We should pursue them. At the very least, we can slow down the speed of the British reinforcement."
Gaillard hesitated. After all, the Duke of York’s forces outnumbered his own by more than ten thousand men.
Seeing his hesitation, Quentin pressed on. "General, ever since we marched from Mechelen to this peak, we’ve done nothing but carry out passive defensive duties. There hasn't been much glory in it."
"Our nation is on the verge of a great victory. If we don’t seize this chance now, there won't be another. We can leave a portion of our troops here at Burgplatz Peak. If things turn sour, we can simply fall back to our defenses."
Gaillard felt a spark of ambition. If he could turn a defensive stalemate into a rout of the enemy, he would almost certainly be promoted to Lieutenant General once the war ended.
After a brief consultation with Quentin, he ordered four thousand men from the Army of the Alps to hold the heights while he led the Walloon Legion and the American volunteers in pursuit of the retreating enemy.
Deep down, he knew the Americans had little combat effectiveness; he intended to use them as a rearguard buffer should the enemy suddenly turn to strike back.
The two thousand men York had left behind to cover his retreat were quickly overrun by Gaillard’s forces. From there, the Walloon Legion began nipping at the heels of the Anglo-Austrian Coalition.
Gaillard soon noticed something strange. The British seemed to be retreating with desperate haste. Twice, his forces had caught up to their supply wagons, and twice, the British had chosen to abandon their logistics rather than turn and fight.
This only bolstered his resolve to continue the chase.
However, the British were moving remarkably fast.
Suddenly, Gaillard recalled a tactic the Crown Prince had used back in Mechelen. He summoned the officers of the American volunteers and ordered them to strip down to light gear and ride ahead to catch the British. They weren't to engage in combat; their only job was to hurl insults.
Gaillard’s plan worked better than expected.
An officer commanding the British rearguard finally snapped after hearing the Americans mocking them for 'crying all the way home after being thrashed by farmers in North America.'
The officer himself had been a veteran of the American War of Independence. In his mind, if the French army hadn't intervened, he would have ground those colonial peasants into the dirt long ago!
In a fit of pique, he ordered his rearguard to turn and form ranks, determined to teach those foul-mouthed rebels a lesson.
The Duke of York was hunched over a map, calculating his route. He estimated they were about two and a half days' march from Cologne.
Just then, the sharp crackle of musketry drifted from the south.
Moments later, a messenger arrived with a frantic report: the Jones Legion at the rear had suddenly halted and was currently engaged with the enemy.
York was livid. He had abandoned his entire supply train specifically to avoid being bogged down, yet that fool Jones had gone and sought out a fight!
He hesitated, weighing his options. Ultimately, he couldn't bring himself to abandon seven thousand soldiers—nearly half of the fifteen thousand British troops he had left.
But very quickly, York began to regret his decision.
The Walloons behaved exactly as they had before, avoiding a direct confrontation. Instead, they continuously maneuvered toward his flanks, clearly intent on pinning his entire force in place.
After two days of being entangled with the Walloon Legion near Düren, York received another urgent dispatch.
The Duke of Brunswick was surrounded by French forces near Rothausen on the west bank of the Our River, and his situation was critical. Simultaneously, the French forces in the Rhineland had occupied Mainz and were now pivoting north.
Despair washed over York. He had no choice but to order the Austrian corps to continue holding off the Walloons—a task that would likely require leaving ten thousand men behind—while he hurried to defend Cologne.
However, his messenger returned almost immediately, drenched in sweat and trembling. "Your Highness, Count Clerfayt has already led the Austrian corps out of the engagement. Our left flank is completely exposed!"
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