Chapter 867: 775 "Model Worker" Napoleon

Chapter 867: Chapter 775 “Model Worker” Napoleon

A glimmer of joy flashed in Joubert’s eyes; he hadn’t expected the enemy to deliberately take a large detour north of Wans and deliver themselves right into his grasp.

He had always harbored doubts about Napoleon’s orders during this time, but now, his heart was filled with nothing but admiration.

Northwest of Cagne Town.

Victor had just gotten out of bed and hadn’t had time to freshen up when he faintly heard the sound of gunfire coming from the town.

The sound was much clearer than before, indicating that the battle was very close to his position.

He was greatly shocked; the Austrian Army had indeed taken the route that Lieutenant Colonel Buonaparte had anticipated and was attacking from the west of Cagne.

Without waiting for the scout’s report, he dropped his toothbrush and shouted toward an orderly’s tent, “Martino, sound the horn, gather the troops! Quickly, our moment has come!”

Victor’s troops had been maintaining a state of readiness, with soldiers sleeping clutching their rifles. So when the assembly signal was sounded, the troops were fully organized in just over 20 minutes.

Victor mounted his horse, galloped out, and waved to his soldiers, “The Austrians have exposed their backs to us! Now is the chance to earn honors—forward!”

In Cagne Town, the sudden arrival of an Austrian Grenadier Battalion from the rear threw the French defenders into chaos.

The officer commanding the defense exclaimed that the situation was dire and hastily led the reserve units to the western flank to fend off the enemy.

However, the defensive forces on this side were far too weak, and within less than an hour, the makeshift barricades around the town’s outskirts had been entirely breached.

Careto, watching hundreds of French soldiers trembling along the main road outside the town, ordered his Grenadier Battalion to form a column and launch a full-scale assault with the support of skirmishers.

As the drumbeats of the Austrian Army sounded, Careto discussed with his staff about linking up with General Pulovira to encircle the French forces in the eastern part of the town once they had taken Cagne.

But suddenly, he noticed something odd about the drumbeats.

He turned his head to look, frowning slightly—why did it sound like there were drums coming from the north as well?

A sudden shiver ran through him as he shouted to his staff, “We’re under attack!”

It wasn’t entirely fair to blame Sebotendov and Careto’s scouts; Napoleon’s arrangements were simply flawless.

Earlier, he had kept Victor and the others stationed over ten kilometers away from the battlefield until after the Austrian Army had launched their attack. Only then did they move toward their preassigned ambush locations.

This was mainly because Napoleon could pinpoint the exact key areas of engagement; otherwise, keeping the troops so far from the battlefield would have been handing the enemy an advantage.

The Austrian cavalry had already meticulously scouted over six miles ahead, but the reports given to Bolieu had all concluded—there was no sign of any French forces nearby.

Bolieu had thus formulated a strategy that seemed, to him, extremely safe.

If one were to view the battlefield with a God’s-eye perspective at this moment, they would see two infantry lines each hundreds of meters long unfolding behind the Austrian forces attacking the west of Cagne Town, sealing off all nearby roads.

Meanwhile, Sebotendov’s Corps, detouring toward the Port of Toulon, was walking directly into Joubert’s embrace…

Near Levain, 20 kilometers north of Nice, Napoleon was bent over his desk, calculating something, occasionally turning to his staff member beside him to remark, “The Lyon Corps’ ammunition reserves are far from adequate…

“The Montpellier troops’ winter attire is too thin. Can those even be called winter clothing? We really should have the Official Investigation Bureau look into their quartermasters…

“Oh, Murat’s Corps requires a separate ammunition supply, and that’s no small problem. Perhaps you’d best visit Paris and discuss with the General Staff about reallocating copper caps from the direct-controlled corps…”

The staff officer nodded repeatedly, quickly jotting notes into his notebook.

He had already grown accustomed to this workaholic commander’s approach. Napoleon would personally concern himself with matters down to the minutest details—like whether soldiers’ buttons were intact.

While this ensured the corps avoided issues in even the smallest aspects—Lieutenant Colonel Buonaparte’s management talents were undeniably exceptional—it also posed new challenges, namely inefficiency, since he insisted on handling every small and large affair of the army. No single person’s energy was limitless. Even though he slept only five hours each day, he couldn’t address everything in time.

Over half an hour later, Napoleon finally finished signing the stack of documents on his desk. Rubbing his wrist, he turned to his attendant, “Please bring me my coffee. The news from Wans should arrive soon; I need to rest for a while.”

Shortly thereafter, an elegant porcelain cup with Eastern motifs was placed before him, filling the tent with the rich aroma of coffee.

The attendant used tongs to place sugar cubes into the cup. Napoleon looked on with a constant smile, nodding, “More. Yes, more still.”

When the sugar had filled a third of the cup, Napoleon finally seemed satisfied, picking up a nearby bottle of brandy and pouring the amber liquid into the coffee cup, signaling silently to the attendant.

The latter lit a thin wooden stick, using it to ignite the brandy floating on the sugar. Instantly, red-and-blue flames danced atop, filling the air with intoxicating aroma, turning the coffee cup into a radiant work of art.

After waiting for the flames to subside, Napoleon gently blew them out and took a sip with pleasure, his eyes narrowing contentedly.

This was his unique method of drinking coffee, his second-favorite battlefield indulgence, ranking only behind a warm bath.

From this detail, it was evident he wasn’t a devout Catholic. If anything, he seemed to have more faith in cannons.

Just as his coffee cup was nearing empty, Major Ogero entered the tent and placed a letter on his desk, speaking in a consultative tone, “Lieutenant Colonel Buonaparte, Baron Defier has already requested reinforcements twice. Perhaps, to be on the safe side, we should allocate some extra troops to Wans.”

Napoleon finished the last sip of his coffee, nodded indulgently, and then turned to Ogero, “Trust me, Wans’ defenses are very solid.”

“You know, the enemy’s main left-wing forces are all concentrated there…”

“I’ve battled the Austrian Army multiple times and am quite familiar with their combat capabilities. Oh, this concerns their Royal German Legion, which is even stronger than the Hungarian Legion led by Sebotendov.

“They lack the resolve for decisive battle. Even minor casualties will prompt them to consider retreat.

“I’ve already instructed Lieutenant Colonel Defier to manage the soldiers’ losses carefully—holding out for ten days won’t be a problem at all.”

Ogero took a deep breath. “But what happens after ten days?”

“Bolieu will surely think he has a significant numerical advantage—oh, and he does. Therefore, he will not settle for a slow advance.

“If he hasn’t breached Wans within a week, he’ll most certainly bypass it and head straight for the Port of Toulon.

“This, of course, stems partly from his concern that we might shift more forces toward defending the Toulon Fortress.”

In reality, Napoleon had stationed 700 reserve troops to the west of Wans, ready to fill any gaps if Defier made a mistake. In addition, should Wans face an emergency, hundreds of Royal Guards stationed in Monaco would also come to its defense, as Napoleon had positioned the Monaco Prince in Biao Town nearby.

Napoleon’s troop dispositions were calculated with extreme precision, but they were far from reckless gambles.