The Fox of France

Chapter 199: The Highlands

Emerging from the halls of the National Assembly, Lucien immediately shifted into full oration mode. He began reciting every word that Napoleon had used to berate him back in the day, as if to showcase the grandeur of the French language to Napoleon himself. He continued until Napoleon, somewhat vexed, remarked, "Lucien, I've found that in this world, problems are often resolved through force, don't you think? Like those buzzing flies if you speak to them politely, they become even more insufferable. At that point, you must draw your sword, give them a swift jab, slice open their bellies, pull out their intestines, and then wrap them around their necks before giving a hard tug... and the world instantly becomes quiet. Lucien, don't you agree?"

Lucien fell silent. He knew that while Napoleon might not draw a blade, he was entirely capable of using his formidable fists to make a point.

"I am a man of culture. I must maintain my composure and not stoop to brawling with this savage. I won't lower myself to his level," Lucien reassured himself, basking in the spiritual victory.

Seeing Lucien yield, Napoleon entrusted the affairs of Paris to him and set off with his army toward Verdun.

At the same time, as Paris descended into chaos, the Anglo-Prussian forces at Verdun resumed their tentative attacks. The initial results were intriguing: the French resistance was intense, and any lost ground was quickly contested as they attempted to regain their positions. However, upon retaking the positions, the French defenses appeared weaker when the Anglo-Prussian forces renewed their attacks. This was consistent across all sectors, even in the areas that had become focal points of contention.

"It truly seems like they've lost unified command. Joseph Bonaparte may no longer be able to effectively lead," commented the Duke of Brunswick to the other generals.

The consensus was unanimous. However, at that moment, Major George Cadogan, the liaison officer, cautioned, "Your Grace, I believe we should exercise caution."

"Major, do you have any insights?" inquired the Duke of Brunswick.

"My senior, the Duke of Norfolk, provided me with some intelligence he obtained from captured materials and defectors from the Irish volunteers who have joined our ranks. From these documents, it is evident that Joseph Bonaparte is a master tactician, cunning and ruthless, without a shred of honor. He doesn't hesitate to employ any means necessary to achieve his goals. So, my lord Duke of Norfolk advises extreme vigilance concerning everything related to him. I believe we can organize an attack but must prepare a sufficient reserve and a well-thought-out retreat plan."

"Very well. Major, do you have these tactical manuals with you?" asked the Duke of Brunswick.

"Of course, such valuable resources cannot be concealed," Major Cadogan replied, to the agreement of other generals.

"Alright, we'll send a letter to the Duke of Norfolk. He'll appreciate your vigilance. Now, let's discuss our retreat routes and cover in case of a failed attack tomorrow. Remember, both retreat and cover are critical and require expertise. Who among you is willing to shoulder this responsibility?"

Almost every general except for Brunswick raised their hands eagerly.

The Duke of Brunswick found this enthusiasm somewhat disheartening as it indicated a reluctance to fight. Nonetheless, he concealed his emotions, took a deep breath, and smiled, "You are all willing to bear this responsibility, which is commendable. However, the task will be assigned by me. General Brunswick, you have the duty."

While the generals appeared somewhat disappointed, no one voiced objections. To them, if the task couldn't go to themselves, assigning it to Brunswick seemed a reasonable alternative.

The meeting delved into the timing and logistics of the retreat, emphasizing mutual cover, lasting well into the late hours. Finally, the Duke of Brunswick spoke, "Ah, I hadn't realized how late it had become. Gather your spirits, gentlemen. Let's address one more issue before we conclude: 'How to launch our attack tomorrow.' We must expedite this discussion so that, after completing our preparations, we might even have time for a nap."

So, the preparations for the attack the next day were swiftly made, followed by arrangements for both the retreat and the assault. However, some officers, with their excessive attention to detail, extended the planning, leaving no room for sleep.

The next day, the Anglo-Prussian forces launched another assault on the Verdun fortifications. The initial attack seemed familiar, and the French response was much like the days before, resolute counterattacks but slow in redeployment.

The Anglo-Prussian forces exploited the perceived weakness of the Frenchslow redeploymentand concentrated their troops quickly in critical areas. They launched a series of brute-force assaults, breaching not one but four lines of defense that day, with the fifth held by the French. Compared to previous days, this assault was notably successful. The distant highlands were now within sight.

Buoyed by this success, almost everyone believed that divine favor was on their side and that the despicable, evil, and terrifying defensive warlord, Joseph Bonaparte, had been genuinely vanquished by bullets. If it weren't for the moonless night, the spirited Anglo-Prussian officers (spirited, as it pertained only to them) might have considered a night assault. Even the French, albeit slow to react, would surely fortify the highlands overnight.

At the evening meeting, General Brunswick proposed an idea regarding the attack. He believed that the French would reinforce the highlands, focusing all their attention there. Therefore, it was unwise to attack the highlands directly; they should employ a flanking maneuver instead.

"Tomorrow, we'll concentrate our main attack on the flanks of the highlands, while feigning an assault on the highlands themselves. Once the French are preoccupied with the feigned attack, we will swiftly redirect the primary assault to the flanks. We'll cut off the highlands from the rest of the French positions. Achieving this will render the isolated highlands easier to conquer."

Most officers concurred with this suggestion. However, their discussions were interrupted by a nighttime counterattack launched by the French.

The French launched a bold, though poorly coordinated, nighttime counteroffensive. Without the light of the moon, such extensive military operations were unsuitable, and the French attack quickly faltered. The Duke of Brunswick summed up the French effort with a simple phrase: "Our French friends are desperate."

The following morning, the Anglo-Prussian forces initiated their attack on the highlands according to General Brunswick's plan. As expected, the highlands' defenses were solid, and the initial feigned assault encountered well-placed defenders. By 10 a.m., they observed the further reinforcement of French forces on the highlands. It was believed that the feigned attack had served its purpose, and they began the massive flanking attacks as planned.

In order to swiftly cut off the highlands from the rest of the French positions, the Anglo-Prussian forces carried out relentless, wave-after-wave assaults, ignoring casualties. Inspired by the combat encouragement of their leaders, they finally met on both flanks before sundown, successfully severing the connection between the highlands and the other French positions. Now, the only task left was to capture the highlands. Once secured, most of the battlefield would fall under the cover of the British cannons. The gates of Verdun would be open. Considering the significance of this position's fall on French morale, the upcoming battles were likely to become easier.

That evening, the Anglo-Prussian forces dispatched an envoy to persuade the remaining French garrison on the highlands to surrender. After all, attempting a direct assault might result in significant casualties, even with their current advantage.

In his letter, the Duke of Brunswick expressed admiration for the French's valiant defense and advised the French garrison that they had done all they could for France. Surrender was not a dishonor. He guaranteed the safety of their lives, property, and dignity. To preserve their honor, he wouldn't even ask them to surrender their weapons, flags, or command knives. Giving up the position would suffice.

However, the commander on the highlands, Captain Philmar, responded with a single word to the Duke of Brunswick's surrender proposal: "Bah!"