France is a Nation, a Nation!
July 29, 1781. Versailles Palace.
"A telegram from General Lafayette. They've confirmed the complete collapse of the Lorraine steelworks and are retrieving the abandoned mercenaries—both the severely wounded and the dead—on their way back."
We'd confirmed the anti-French forces' safe retreat. With that, the war had effectively entered its wrap-up phase.
"The war is drawing to a close. What do you make of this conflict, my lords?"
"A resounding victory for our nation, Your Majesty."
"I see it differently."
This war had taught me a harsh lesson: fighting a war on your home turf is a disaster waiting to happen.
At first, I'd planned to wage just one war from our heartland. That's why I'd built the Lorraine steelworks with a cast-iron skeleton and left the corrupt elements and subversives intact—to pin the blame on them postwar and purge them all at once.
But reality didn't bend to my will. The army had handled things competently enough to salvage the situation, but if they'd been any less capable, we'd have been in real trouble.
The old noble remnants we'd shipped to Paris had scattered to the winds. No hoarding disrupted the rear lines, so prices kept hitting new lows. I'd meant to raze the Lorraine steelworks and extract reparations, but it collapsed naturally at the most unexpected moment. I'd planned to grind down the anti-French forces by about thirty percent and send them packing, but who could've guessed we'd leave exactly thirty percent alive?
The biggest wildcard was how easily the anti-French army crumbled—especially the mercenaries. The 100,000 Dutch troops were one thing, but 300,000 mercenaries scattered across French soil? That was a catastrophe.
"So, we're moving to postwar processing. Speak freely if you have any viable measures."
"Your Majesty, might we start with a peace treaty?"
"The Dutch army's still out there. No true armistice until they're gone."
No one would have forgotten, but the Dutch army posed a greater threat than the main anti-French force. Their split from the inept Loudon army proved it—the sheer resolve showed their legion's aggression and cohesion.
If only we knew where the Dutch army was, we'd dispatch forces immediately... After breaking off from the anti-French main body in mid-July, their whereabouts had gone dark.
We'd rushed to lay semaphore lines in the northeast for scouting, but it still gnawed at me. If they swung south or west to stir trouble, that'd be a headache. Of course, the deeper they penetrated French territory, the easier the suppression—but then we'd have stragglers to deal with.
We had ways to round up the 300,000 Italian mercenaries, but the 100,000 Dutch? No co-opting them. Worst of all, lost muskets or bayonets in civilian hands spelled danger.
"Your Majesty, a telegram from Metz. The Moselle River is contaminated with massive amounts of animal entrails and filth. It seems someone’s ploy to poison the drinking water."
"The Dutch, no doubt."
Good thing we'd installed the semaphore lines.
"Yes. The Metz garrison suspects the same. But after the last feint operation depleted their shells, they're short on firepower and requesting support."
"Send a telegram to the Épinal garrison ordering them to check the Moselle's headwaters. Distribute lye to every village and town using the river for agriculture or drinking water. And direct Metz to trace the contamination upstream to its source."
The Moselle's source lay in the Vosges Mountains, with Épinal on the eastern flank. If Metz couldn't hold, we'd lure them elsewhere. No sense letting the Felsberg Fortress gather dust. Time to give the anti-French rabble a face-saving out—and finish the Dutch for good.
Épinal Garrison: Secure Moselle headwaters.
All affected settlements: Receive lye rations.
Metz: Trace and neutralize upstream source.
August 8, 1781. A telegram arrived. Result: Dutch army annihilated. Regrettably, William V had escaped.
The field commanders judged that pursuit would yield no meaningful gains and held back.
"Felsberg Fortress's performance is confirmed. Just as Dutch cannons spread across Europe, French-style fortresses will now proliferate."
Should we patent them?
"We'll discuss that later. First, the battle summary."
"Yes. Metz scouts spotted the Dutch where the Meurthe and Moselle meet. They were blocking between Nancy and Metz, preventing messengers, but semaphore relayed word to Nancy. Three infantry divisions and a Swiss mercenary division based there joined Metz's garrison to envelop from north and south, herding the Dutch eastward."
They'd planned to isolate Metz by cutting couriers. In this era, messengers could fall to wolves or wild dogs en route—no big deal if a couple vanished.
"Nancy forces blocked Folklingen, luring the enemy to Felsberg. The Dutch pushed north along the Nied's west bank; Nancy pursued. As our troops tried crossing the Nied at Albesheim, the Dutch attempted a breakthrough at Felsberg. Our forces fording the river struck their rear, and with Felsberg Fortress, we annihilated them."
"Our casualties?"
"Negligible."
No surprise. A textbook encirclement: forests south, forests and Saar River north, Saarlouis Fortress if they broke through, Felsberg ahead, and 45,000 troops behind.
William V had dug trenches for a straightforward assault on Felsberg but crumbled under the rear strike. Frontline infantry couldn't close from trenches fast enough, and cavalry blocked any midfield shift. They arrived disorganized, easy prey for horsemen outside tight formations.
Dutch artillery: wiped out. Supplies: mostly burned.
"The Dutch had absorbed some 20,000 Italian mercenary stragglers from the Lorraine raid—mostly rank-and-file infantry. No impact on the battle. They surrendered en masse when William V fled. Felsberg yielded 70,000 prisoners; 30,000 fled to the woods, the rest presumed dead."
Such a lopsided fight made sense in the 18th century: infantry as scissors, artillery as rock, cavalry as paper.
Infantry beating cavalry seemed odd, but it was standard. Rifling was tricky, so barrels grew long for accuracy—musket stocks man-height, plus 30cm bayonets turning them into spears. Shoot from afar, spear up close: variable infantry.
Assign them to front trenches, and enemy gunners fell to our cavalry unchallenged. No rock? Scissors alone win or tie.
Ours hid in fortresses. Scissors-only stalemate—or cavalry skewers. Rock smashing paper too? Five divisions devour 120,000.
"Prisoners are overflowing."
Adding Lorraine wounded: 100,000 total. France had food aplenty, but not for freeloaders. Wasteful.
"Yes. Division commanders disarmed them for release across the Saar, but..."
"But?"
"They refuse to go."
Somehow convincing. Europe hadn't shaken the economic depression. Return to nations skimping rations? Lifetime disability, poverty, death.
France offered two centuries of medical knowledge (mostly hygiene), timely meals, competent surgeons. Who'd leave?
"We consulted ministries for labor use, but 100,000 is too much."
France was transitioning to normalcy: shrinking public works, boosting private economy. Central jobs for 10,000–20,000? Fine. 100,000? Quasi-military upkeep. Wounded hiked costs above soldiers'.
"Refugees are flooding in worse. Saarlouis grapples with Saar-crossers; Sardinia border same. Spain sees returns post-free trade, but minor. The issue: these inflows hit cities, spawning illegal builds, slums, crime. Border towns suffer severe peur des étrangers."
"Xenophobia, eh. 'Hatred stems from ignorance,' as the saying goes. Lucky us. Leisure breeds empathy. Can't mandate this away—gather urban poor and foreign inflows into foreigner-only new towns. Mixing incompatibles just muddies the water. Keep water watery, dirt dirty; till fields, dig ponds, build enclaves."
Happy Louis-land? They'd mingle joyfully. But the world doesn't work that way. Racial cleansing, slave labor? Backlash later. This cleanest: no half-baked fusion like modern France. Patchwork mess. No thanks to purple Dionysus.