Chapter 866: The Battle of Mantua
Beaulieu dispatched hundreds of cavalry, repeatedly confirming that this wasn't one of Napoleon's traps, before finally leading a military band and the fortress officers out to welcome Wurmser.
It was the first time he had stepped outside the Mantua Fortress in over a month.
The moment he spotted Wurmser approaching, flanked by a phalanx of guards, he rushed forward with his arms wide in greeting.
However, before he could utter a single word of his carefully prepared speech, Wurmser addressed him with a somber expression. "Marshal Beaulieu, my reconnaissance units have found no trace of the French nearby. Where are they?"
"Indeed, they've all been frightened away by your prestigious reputation," Beaulieu replied gleefully. "In truth, they began their retreat two days ago. This morning, the final contingent of over three thousand men also departed.
"Now, the line from Mantua to Brescia is back in our hands..."
"Wait," Wurmser interrupted, his brow furrowing. "Are you saying the French retreated two days ago?"
"Ah, that is correct."
"And you made no attempt to pursue them?"
Wurmser ignored the excuse and immediately signaled his staff to bring over a map. "Where is the Right Column now?"
The staff officer recalled the reports. "They should have passed Limone, General. I estimate they will arrive here by the day after tomorrow at the latest."
A sudden sense of unease washed over Wurmser. He shook his head, muttering to himself, "The French retreated too quickly. This isn't normal..."
He turned to an adjutant. "Contact General Quosdanovich immediately. Warn him to be on high alert for a French assault."
Quosdanovich commanded Wurmser's Right Column.
When Wurmser first learned that Napoleon had split his forces to intercept at Verona, he had been overjoyed. He had ordered his troops to divide into three columns—left, center, and right—spreading out from east to west in an attempt to encircle the French forces near Mantua.
Yet now, there wasn't an enemy in sight.
Beaulieu asked tentatively, "How many soldiers are in Quosdanovich's corps?"
"Eighteen thousand men, Marshal," the staff officer replied.
Beaulieu's face brightened with a smile. "Then there is no need for concern. The French forces besieging Mantua numbered only about seventeen thousand, and they left in separate groups. This means the rearguard of five or six thousand soldiers won't even reach Limone until tomorrow evening."
Wurmser felt a slight sense of relief upon hearing this.
He was a seasoned veteran, after all. Behind his three main columns, he had left Mészáros von Szoboszló with four thousand men as a reserve force.
Furthermore, another six thousand troops recently conscripted from Venice were following further back.
Even if the French took the risk of attacking, Quosdanovich only needed to hold his ground for a single day before a steady stream of reinforcements would arrive.
He looked to the cavalry officer beside him. "Major Faber, take three cavalry squadrons immediately and scout the shores of Lake Garda for any sign of the French.
"If they truly intend to strike Quosdanovich, we will launch a pincer attack from the south!"
The strategic position of the Mantua Fortress was formidable, situated at the confluence of the Mincio and Po rivers, with Lake Garda serving as a natural shield to the west.
Limone was a small town located on the northwestern shore of the lake.
If the French attempted to move against Quosdanovich, they would be separated by Lake Garda, preventing them from threatening the Mantua Fortress itself.
This geographic advantage gave Wurmser the confidence to divert his strength for a pincer maneuver.
Scarcely half a day later, Wurmser's reconnaissance cavalry returned with a report. They stated that the French rearguard had just reached Calcinato, southwest of Lake Garda, with a strength of at least six thousand. Local peasants claimed that over ten thousand French troops had passed through the area the day before.
Wurmser immediately issued orders. He would take the ten thousand men of his Center Column and combine them with Argentau's corps. This combined force of nearly thirty thousand would march west of Lake Garda to crush the French in a pincer.
Beaulieu became visibly anxious. "General, if you do that, the defenses at Mantua will be dangerously thin..."
"Don't worry, General Ulmer will arrive by the day after tomorrow at the latest; his unit has over ten thousand men," Wurmser snapped irritably. "The Emperor's command is for us to reclaim Italy, not to sit huddled behind these walls forever."
Previously, Mantua had been garrisoned by nearly thirty thousand soldiers, yet they had allowed themselves to be hemmed in by fewer than twenty thousand Frenchmen. Beaulieu had never once attempted a significant sortie.
Beaulieu reminded him awkwardly, "General, that fellow Napoleon is full of schemes. You must remain on your guard..."
Meanwhile, west of Lake Garda.
In the town of Idro.
Napoleon checked his pocket watch and turned to the soldiers around him, waving them forward. "Pick up the pace, everyone! We should encounter the Austrians before noon!"
Nearby, Grouchy galloped over and tipped his hat. "General, the scouts have spotted the enemy rearguard north of Limone. They have over four thousand men."
Indeed, after Napoleon had shattered Melas's army at Alessandria, he had received a commission signed personally by the Crown Prince, promoting him to Brigadier General.
It had been less than six months since he first arrived in Italy.
Augereau overheard the report and moved closer, his brow furrowed. "General, the enemy rearguard is too close. If we can't crush Quosdanovich quickly, we risk being caught in a pincer ourselves."
During the previous night's war council, Napoleon had predicted that the Austrian forces from the Mantua Fortress might follow them.
Their strike force consisted of only twelve thousand men. Defeating Quosdanovich alone would push them to their limit; if another enemy force struck from behind, they would be in a death trap.
Napoleon, however, appeared entirely relaxed. "No, Pierre, we'll only be delayed south of Limone for half a day at most."
His confidence was well-founded. He was currently leading the Royal Third Infantry Division and his beloved Royal Horse Artillery Battalion.
Having fought alongside the Crown Prince before, he knew exactly how devastating the combat power of this direct-subordinate legion could be.
He looked back at Augereau and added, "In fact, Quosdanovich is merely the appetizer. The main course is the Austrian army behind us. If my guess is correct, Wurmser will lead them here in person."
Augereau remained tense. "General, aren't our numbers a bit too thin? Perhaps we should have rendezvoused with the units from Verona first..."
Napoleon broke into a confident smile. "Do you know why I left Victor's corps behind? I could have easily had him retreat from Mantua with us."
"Was it not to prevent Beaulieu from pursuing?"
"Beaulieu? Of course not. That man has lost his nerve. I could dress a troop of monkeys in French uniforms, and he still wouldn't dare to attack," Napoleon declared. "Victor's true mission is to give Wurmser 'confidence' and lure him into overextending his formations.
"And that, my friend, is when our opportunity will arise."
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