Chapter 907: Austria's Last Hope
On a small hill to the southwest of the Vescio River.
General Bajzáth surveyed the battlefield below, shouting orders to his messenger:
"Have Hammer's cavalry plug the gap on the left wing, immediately!
"Tell Lieutenant Colonel Ulrich that he must hold for another hour. He shouldn't expect any reinforcements."
He lowered his telescope and turned to Archduke Charles, who stood beside him, expressing a heartfelt sigh of admiration.
"These Frenchmen fight with such ferocity. If you had followed my mistaken orders earlier, we would likely be in grave danger by now."
The young officer beside him, whose slightly curly hair and sunken cheeks gave him a somewhat listless appearance, waved his hand dismissively.
"No, that was Marshal Alvinczy's mistake; you were merely following orders.
"Fortunately, there is still time. If the Marshal's reinforcements can arrive by noon the day after tomorrow, we can annihilate this French force."
Alvinczy had ordered him to stay as close to the center army as possible to ensure they could support one another at a moment's notice.
However, ever since they had left Venice, Archduke Charles had repeatedly pointed out that the left wing was too contracted. He argued it would leave a massive opening toward the Vescio River, which the French would likely exploit to outflank them.
At the time, Bajzáth had simply demanded that the Archduke obey his superior's orders.
Luckily, Charles had remained "stubborn" and refused. He had kept his legion moving three kilometers to the east of Bajzáth's main force, sending out cavalry to scout along the Vescio River relentlessly.
As a Hungarian officer, Bajzáth had little leverage over the Emperor's younger brother, so he had let the matter slide.
To his surprise, just yesterday morning, Archduke Charles actually discovered a French force attempting to cross the river and immediately launched a decisive attack.
The Royal Moravian Legion, led by the Archduke, was one of the few elite units among the forces sent to Northern Italy. They had caught the French off guard, and hundreds of enemy soldiers had drowned in the chaos.
However, the French numbered over twenty thousand, while the Moravian Legion had only seven thousand men. Ultimately, the French managed to complete their crossing under duress.
By then, Bajzáth had received the Archduke's report and rushed his own troops to the scene.
The tide turned instantly. The French were pushed back toward a patch of woods near the riverbank, and the two sides had been locked in a stalemate ever since.
As they spoke, a rider skidded to a halt beside Bajzáth, shouting, "General, the French have organized two more regiments to storm the left wing! General Metzger is requesting reinforcements!"
Bajzáth frowned, looking toward Archduke Charles with an inquiring gaze. "It seems I have no choice but to send the Moser Legion."
The Moser Legion was his final reserve. Once deployed, he would have no mobile forces left.
Charles Ludwig recalled the terrain to the south of the battlefield and asked the messenger, "The area where the French are attacking... is there a field of jagged rocks there?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
Charles nodded and turned to Bajzáth. "General, I suggest we hold the reserves for now. We must fully utilize our advantage in artillery."
He then looked back at the messenger.
"Order the Moravian Legion's artillery to concentrate on the left wing. Disregard the enemy's exact positions; simply aim for that field of rocks and fire.
"Furthermore, order General Metzger to withdraw his troops slightly toward the rear flanks. Have him block the spaces on either side of the rock field as much as possible. Wait for the enemy to emerge from the rocks before launching a counter-attack."
The messenger glanced at Bajzáth. Seeing no objection, he snapped to attention. "As you command, Your Highness!"
...
On the French lines, Augereau was personally directing three thousand men of the Moulins Legion in a charge against the Austrians.
He had no corps directly under his command—Napoleon's direction was the main thrust of the offensive, and he had taken all the elite units with him.
Thus, the Moulins Legion was the most capable force Augereau had at his disposal.
He was currently consumed by anxiety and had decided to risk everything here.
According to Napoleon's orders, he should have launched the attack on Alvinczy's left wing this morning, but he was being held back with a death grip.
This delay could potentially leave General Napoleon exposed to a counter-attack by superior enemy forces, leading to catastrophic casualties.
Augereau nodded to Brigadier General Andre, the commander of the Moulins Legion. "Begin. May God be with you."
A moment later, the rhythm of the drums began to accelerate.
The skirmishers of the Moulins Legion were the first to dash toward the enemy lines.
However, the Austrian forces only exchanged a brief volley before they began to retreat in succession.
Andre was not surprised by the "cowardice" of the Austrians. He immediately raised his saber and shouted for the entire legion to press the advance.
But the Moulins Legion had only advanced two or three hundred paces before they hit a massive expanse of loose, jagged stones. Their speed plummeted instantly.
At that exact moment, the Austrian heavy artillery on the high ground to their front-left roared to life.
The cannonballs slammed into the loose rocks, sending lethal shards spraying in every direction. If the Moulins Legion hadn't been equipped with bulletproof inserts, the flying stone splinters alone would have easily slaughtered them.
Andre stared at the Austrian line formation in the distance. If they could just break through there, they could coordinate with Marmont's corps to the north and tear open the enemy's defenses.
"Pass the order! Loose formation, advance at speed!"
"Yes, General!"
Three thousand French soldiers stepped onto the jagged rocks without fear, but moving quickly proved impossible. It was difficult enough to walk without twisting an ankle, let alone run.
Meanwhile, the Austrian cannons continued to pour fire upon them.
One iron sphere after another whistled through the gaps between the French soldiers, carving streaks of crimson through the ranks, leaving mangled limbs in their wake.
By the time the Moulins Legion had advanced less than two hundred paces, they had already suffered three or four hundred casualties. The field of rocks was slick with blood and shredded flesh.
Andre's horse was struck in the left eye by a flying stone chip, and it shrieked, tossing its head as it stumbled back.
Andre's eyes burned with fury. He looked back toward the heavy cannons piled up on the eastern bank of the Vescio River. If only they had those pieces here, they could have suppressed the Austrian fire.
But now, they could do nothing but take the beating.
When Archduke Charles launched his sudden raid yesterday, the heavy artillery of Augereau's Corps hadn't yet been moved across the river. The pontoon bridge had been destroyed by Austrian fire shortly after.
Finally, the mounting casualties forced Andre to order a retreat.
Just then, several hundred Austrian Hussars cut in through the gap between the Moulins Legion and Marmont's Corps.
The Moulins Legion, already in the middle of a retreat, was instantly thrown into chaos.
It wasn't until Augereau sent his reserves to reinforce them that the situation was barely stabilized. However, by that time, all the ground the French left wing had gained throughout the day was lost. The entire army was now pinned down in a small clearing at the edge of the woods.
Night fell.
Both the French and the Austrian sides were consumed by worry.
Augereau's Corps was tallying their casualties, the painful groans of the wounded drifting across the entire riverbank.
Meanwhile, General Bajzáth received word that his own army's right wing had been completely routed by Napoleon.
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