Chapter 188: Members of the Grand Army (1)
Chapter 188: Members of the Grand Army (1)
The efforts of the Russian Navy to keep their half-wrecked bodies of ships afloat were almost tear-inducing. They fired grapeshot toward the sails of our fleet, and even tied ropes to cannonballs to tear through the sails.
As a result, very few ships on our side still had intact masts.
When our speed slowed, the Russian forces spread every sail they had and fled toward the southeast as if the wind itself were saving their lives. Even though we failed to sink any of their ships, they would not dare think of projecting naval power into the Mediterranean anytime soon.
“Damn it, the business went to waste. At least if we’d captured one ship, I could’ve brought something home for the kids waiting for me.”
“I bragged to my wife before leaving this time… sigh.”
“Shit, how am I supposed to repay my loan now?”
After the enemy completely withdrew, the British sailors grumbled with sour expressions.
“Hurrah! Hurrah! Victory!”
“Vive la Nation! Vive la Révolution!”
“Long live the French Navy! Long live the French Navy!”
On board the Guillaume Tell, every soldier and sailor embraced each other and danced once our victory was confirmed. Sailors, deck officers, even the helmsmen—all of them had smiles stretching from ear to ear, humming songs without realizing it.
How long had it been since they tasted the sweetness of victory?
Ever since they had humbled the British during the American Revolutionary War, the navy had not tasted a single moment of glory or honor for a full ten years.
Even after the Revolution, the army at least had the chance to kick Prussia in the shins. Meanwhile, the navy could only lament its fate, drinking alcohol and scraping barnacles off the bottoms of ships.
The joy of the French sailors was like that desperate moment when a trainee at the Nonsan Training Center—who has been forced to quit smoking for thirty days—finally lights a cigarette after graduation.
Of course, I was happy too.
“Wow… the adrenaline is really pumping.”
“Pardon? A-ad… what did you say?”
“…Something like that exists.”
Major Lucas tilted his head briefly, then spoke again with a serious expression.
“Your Excellency’s decision brought us victory. On behalf of the navy, I thank you.”
“What are you talking about? It was thanks to Major Lucas and the sailors.”
“No. It was because Your Excellency was here…”
Stop it. I’m embarrassed! I said I’m embarrassed!!!
Honestly, what did I even do? I just said, “Go ahead and try it,” and gave them a little push. Why are they praising me like this?
This is why I dislike this position. People don’t see me as just another man—they look at me as if I’m some kind of god… no, a demigod.
But if this continued, the conversation with Major Lucas would never end. So in the end I could only nod and say I understood.
“First Officer, Your Excellency. The British captains will soon board our ship.”
“A post-battle evaluation?”
“Yes, sir. It seems they want to discuss what to do next.”
As the officer had said, several British officers boarded our ship shortly afterward and removed their hats in greeting.
“Congratulations on the victory, Your Excellency.”
“You all worked hard as well.”
“Although we didn’t sink any enemy ships, we practically crippled them. They’ll probably be stuck in dock for at least half a year.”
“That’s correct, Your Excellency. The Russian Empire will not be able to project strong naval power into the Mediterranean for quite some time.”
“That is fortunate.”
“However, Your Excellency, our ships also suffered damage and will require repairs.”
“Hmm.”
As I spoke with the captains of several ships, Nelson—who had finally completed emergency repairs on the battered HMS Agamemnon—came aboard the Guillaume Tell as well.
“Your Excellency! Despite this being your first time aboard a ship, the decisiveness and boldness you displayed! Your military genius rivals that of Alexander the Great and Charlemagne! And you even saved my life! This Nelson is moved to tears, and the heart of a man trembles as if heaven and earth themselves were shaking—!”
“…Yes, yes. Admiral Nelson, you worked very hard as well. I will make sure to inform Prime Minister Pitt how greatly Admiral Nelson distinguished himself.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency!”
Without showing it outwardly, I shook my head slightly and spoke to the troublemaker of these seas.
“Admiral Nelson, what are your plans now?”
“For the moment, several ships should return to Toulon, Your Excellency.”
Ships like the Trowbridge and the Agamemnon had suffered considerable damage, so Nelson’s suggestion made sense.
“Then for now only the Guillaume Tell will proceed to Corsica.”
“Do not worry. Once the Trowbridge and Agamemnon are removed, the remaining ships can complete repairs within a week and return to the Mediterranean.”
“Very well. I wish you a safe return to Toulon.”
Nelson and I clasped hands and shook them with cheerful smiles.
One day later.
Ajaccio Harbor, Corsica.
“Wow. It’s been quite a long time since I’ve been here.”
“You have visited Corsica before?”
“A friend of mine lives here, so I came on vacation a few years ago.”
Back then I was just an ordinary businessman. It feels strange thinking about it now.
Tsk. Once this war ends, I’ll sit comfortably in my warm office as a company president and just make money.
The British branch still needs a proper branch manager appointed. I also need to handle the transition of responsibilities. And since Lavoisier has developed a steam automobile, I should ask Mr. Murdoch and Mr. Trevithick when their steam locomotive might become commercially viable.
There’s a mountain of work waiting for me.
“Entering port! Entering port!”
Right. Time to prepare to disembark. I’m sick of the sea already.
Clank!
The gangway connecting the harbor and the ship lowered, and I stepped onto it with a relaxed heart.
But the moment my foot touched the gangway, a familiar face blocked my path.
“…Napoleon?”
“Oh, Guillaume. Good to see you.”
“What, you came all the way here to greet your older brother?”
Wait… is this really the aloof Napoleon Bonaparte from the Paris Military Academy? I’m almost touched.
Just as tears of emotion—H₂O mixed with sodium—were about to roll down my cheeks—
“Sorry, but don’t get off yet. Stay on that ship for about a week.”
“…What?”
Napoleon shrugged and dragged me back onto the ship.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean? We need to put on a show.”
“What kind of show are you talking about, you lunatic?!”
What are you hiding behind your back? Tell me already!
But Napoleon took me to the captain’s cabin, locked the door, and whispered quietly.
“A show to win the hearts of Corsica. Just play the actor once.”
“…Let’s hear it.”
Oh…
Oh…
…This could draw quite an audience.
“Oh, one more thing. Let’s borrow some people and equipment.”
“People? Equipment?”
“The sailors of this ship.”
“Did you hear about that?”
“Hear what?”
“Apparently the Russians got completely smashed out at sea not long ago.”
“Smashed? By who?”
“Who else? The French Navy.”
“…Really? Then does that mean the French army is coming soon?”
“I don’t know about that, but if I were the Russians my stomach would be twisting in knots right now.”
“Tweet! Tweet! Blyat! You two there! Disperse immediately!!!”
“Yikes, if we’re unlucky we’ll get beaten. Let’s talk about it later when there’s time. Take care.”
“You too. Stay safe.”
The place where Russian military police blew whistles and waved their batons at civilians was the southeastern Corsican port city of Vecchio.
It had been about four months since Russian forces occupied Vecchio and established it as a base. It had been about one week since the suspiciously skilled French Navy shattered the Russian Imperial Navy at sea.
It was October of 1793.
Knock. Knock.
“Enter.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
A young officer opened the door and stepped inside.
The old general looking at him had grown noticeably gaunt in recent days. Before entering the Mediterranean, the general—if one exaggerated a little—looked like a man in his fifties.
Now he looked far older than his true age of sixty, almost like a man in his seventies.
“Why are you standing there blankly? Is there something on my face?”
“N-no, sir. Reporting to the Field Marshal. Earlier today there were scattered skirmishes near the northern positions, but they were reconnaissance detachments rather than the enemy’s main force. Our troops successfully repelled them with excellent discipline—”
“The civilians?”
“…Sir?”
The old general closed his eyes briefly, then opened them slowly.
“What is the situation among the civilians?”
“The situation?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing unusual, Your Excellency. The military police are maintaining order, and the requisition of supplies is proceeding successfully.”
“…Very well. Carry on.”
“Ura!!”
“Ura.”
After the officer left, Suvorov remained alone in the mayor’s office of Vecchio, which he had turned into his command room. He raised a hand and rubbed his face.
“In forty years of military service, I have never fought a war like this.”
The Russian army—Suvorov himself included—could never truly control the people of this French land.
Nothing unusual?
Even if he set aside his thoughts for a moment, the sound of whistles blowing in the distance echoed in his ears. And yet there was supposedly nothing unusual.
But the most unusual thing was the officer’s expression. As if he were thinking, What’s the big deal?
The Pugachev Rebellion that once threatened the throne of the Tsar.
The brutality of war.
The backward environment of Russia.
Growing up amid these three hellish conditions—like something out of purgatory—the Russians had gradually become so broken in their morals and perceptions that they could hardly be called civilized people anymore.
Even Suvorov himself had ordered the massacre of Turks of all ages after capturing the fortress of Izmail during the previous war against the Ottoman Empire.
Now… now he understood what the enemy commander was thinking.
Napoleon Bonaparte had never intended to fight Suvorov directly.
He would simply wait until Suvorov collapsed from exhaustion. Only then would he approach with a sneer and cut his throat.
Yet even so, there was still hope.
After abandoning the eastern axis and moving south, the Russian army had split into two forces to protect the port city of Vecchio: the northern defensive army commanded by Suvorov and the western defensive army commanded by Kutuzov.
Kutuzov’s western sector had low terrain, making surveillance easy and allowing them to quickly detect enemy movements.
Meanwhile, the northern sector under Suvorov centered around a small village called Possi, a strategic point along a river.
Most importantly, any enemy attack on Possi required crossing the river. The moment the enemy attempted to cross, Suvorov could slaughter them more easily than eating cake.
Come if you dare. I’ll drown you in the river.
October 20, 1793.
Before dawn.
Slip.
Under cover of darkness, a group of soldiers crossed the river with daggers clenched in their mouths and pistols and powder strapped to their heads.
“Remember the objective. We overturn their reporting system. Do not cause unnecessary noise. Understood?”
“Yes, Colonel Masséna!”
Napoleon’s attack had begun.