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Chapter 911: A Good Officer Knows How to Retreat

Augereau peered through his telescope at the chaotic Austrian camp, a sense of unreality washing over him.

How could the Austrians, who had held the advantage and maintained the initiative for so long, suddenly become so fragile after receiving reinforcements?

Though he couldn't quite fathom the reason, he didn't hesitate to issue his orders, one after another.

"Have Lieutenant Colonel Marmont push the artillery forward four hundred meters. Tell him not to worry; there isn't an enemy left capable of threatening his guns."

"The Seventh and Eighth Battalions are to ignore the prisoners. Keep pushing forward. Don't give the enemy a moment to reform their lines."

"Where is my cavalry? Have them strike the northern positions immediately, before the Austrians can get their cannons ready..."

The infantry line, composed of nearly seven thousand French soldiers, quickly swept over the outermost Austrian defenses. With the support of the artillery, they advanced to the edge of Bajzáth's camp in less than an hour.

This only served to plunge the already shambolic Austrian camp into deeper turmoil.

After several failed attempts to get Wurmser to lead his men out of the camp, Bajzáth was forced to order a retreat. The soldiers from Mantua had eyes only for food; they were utterly incapable of forming even a basic line. As long as they remained in the camp, Bajzáth found his own hands tied.

Yet, they didn't organize a resistance. Instead, they turned and fled in the opposite direction without a second thought.

'Well,' many of them thought, 'at least we've finally filled our bellies. We have much more strength in our legs for running now.'

The reserve corps Bajzáth had left to cover the rear was still assembling when it was instantly scattered by the flood of over ten thousand fleeing soldiers.

Behind them, the French line pressed on relentlessly, the two sides moving in such perfect, albeit unintentional, synchronization that it looked like a rehearsed maneuver.

Thus, the Austrian retreat dissolved into a total rout.

In this manner, Augereau's corps of ten thousand pursued more than thirty thousand enemies across six kilometers of the Po Valley in just over an hour.

Three kilometers northwest of Bajzáth's former camp.

Archduke Charles galloped back and forth, urgently shouting at officers who had yet to finish organizing their ranks.

He had realized earlier that the situation in the main camp had spiraled out of control and had decisively pulled his own corps out of the fray.

Because they had stayed clear of the "starving ghosts" from Mantua, and because his Moravian soldiers were better trained, they had finally managed to form a somewhat coherent line.

Just then, Lieutenant Colonel Moser, one of Bajzáth's subordinates, came galloping toward them in a panic, accompanied by several hundred broken troops.

When Moser saw the banners of the Moravian Corps and the thousands of soldiers standing in formation, he was overcome with relief.

He quickly sought out Archduke Charles, shouting from a distance, "Your Highness! The General has ordered a retreat, but the French have broken through our rearguard! Please, you must go and reinforce them immediately!"

Charles looked grave as he signaled his staff to bring a map. He pointed to it and asked Moser, "Where would my intervention be most effective in intercepting the enemy?"

"Intercepting?" Moser stammered, caught off guard. "There are Frenchmen everywhere. Anywhere would do!"

Charles frowned and pressed further. "Then tell me, in which direction are the enemy forces the thinnest?"

"It... it should be to the north..."

Charles immediately turned to his messenger. "Order the entire army to move north at once. Expand our reconnaissance range. Do everything possible to avoid direct combat with the enemy."

"Yes, General!"

Moser tried to protest. "Your Highness, if you don't send reinforcements, the corps is doomed!"

Charles glanced at him, his voice cold. "It is obvious our army has completely collapsed. To throw my men against the French now would be nothing more than a waste of their lives."

"But..."

Charles signaled for Moser to mount his horse. Tugging on his reins, he asked, "What do you think the French want most right now?"

"I imagine they want to pursue General Bajzáth..."

"No, they want to head toward Trento," Charles corrected him. "Looking at Napoleon's previous movements, he likely plans to encircle Marshal Alvinczy from both the east and west.

"Augereau's corps is responsible for the eastern pincer.

"He was stalled by us at the Vescio River, so he will be desperate to make up for lost time and complete the encirclement."

Moser grew even more anxious. "Then all the more reason not to let him pass!"

"My forces aren't enough to block him head-on."

"Then... then what should we do?"

"We make the French feel as if they are in great danger, thereby forcing them to slow down. Then, we ask Marshal Alvinczy for reinforcements." Charles sighed. "I can only hope this method works."

His luck held. By the time his corps had retreated four kilometers to the north, they hadn't encountered a single one of Augereau's units.

Once he was certain there were no French troops nearby, Charles ordered his five thousand men to spread out along an east-west axis. He placed them in a thin, single-rank line to cover as much ground as possible.

Next, he dispatched several infantry battalions to move south, with orders to fire a few shots if they encountered the French but to avoid a full-scale engagement at all costs.

Having made these arrangements, he looked back at Moser.

"Your task is to contact General Bajzáth as quickly as possible and tell him to do the following..."

The next morning, before the sun had even risen, Augereau and Marmont were already discussing the day's operations.

Though they had secured an unexpectedly decisive victory, Bajzáth still had seven or eight thousand men fleeing southward. Meanwhile, another group of several thousand Austrians appeared to be moving to regroup with Alvinczy's central army.

The French had to strike a balance between completing the encirclement and pursuing the broken enemy to maximize their gains.

As they spoke, a cavalry captain entered the tent and saluted. "Colonel, we have spotted enemy activity to the north, near the village of Saint Leon and the Salorno area."

The tent flap opened again, admitting a messenger. "Colonel, the Seventh Infantry Battalion was just harassed by Austrians. We drove them off quickly, however."

Augereau frowned, marking the locations of these incidents on his map.

Marmont studied the map. "It seems the enemy has an army lying in ambush on our right flank?"

Augereau nodded. "Send the scouts north immediately. I want a thorough reconnaissance."

He thought about the position of Bajzáth's remnants and the enemy force retreating west toward Trento. His frown deepened. If there really was an Austrian force lurking to his north, he was walking straight into a massive trap!

A possibility suddenly occurred to him. He looked at Marmont and said, "Could it be that Bajzáth's sudden retreat yesterday was a ploy to lure us into an ambush?"

Marmont felt a chill. "If that's the case, that bizarre chaos in their camp would certainly make more sense."

Two hours later, two scouts returned and reported to Augereau. "Colonel, we've discovered a massive enemy force four kilometers to the north. Their numbers look to be at least fifteen thousand."