Before the thin and elongated line of infantry, Lieutenant Lefebvre wiped the sweat from his palms on the hem of his uniform as he watched the swarms of Albanian mercenaries in their earthy yellow short robes slowly approach like ants in the distance, his nerves on edge.
The second platoon commander whispered beside him, “Lieutenant, there appear to be three to four thousand of them…”
“I see them,” Lefebvre replied with a calm face, already beginning to regret his actions. He had indeed managed to get behind the enemy lines, but his side only had 220 men.
Behind him, there was a gap of 1.5 meters between each infantryman, where normally it should only be 0.5 to 0.7 meters. There were only two ranks in front and behind. If the enemy launched a fierce attack, it would easily break through their line.
“Steady!” he glanced behind him and called out loudly to boost morale, “Grip your rifles. The enemy is nothing to be scared of!” In truth, his forehead was covered in cold sweat.
Soon, the earthy yellow “ant swarm” reached close proximity to the infantry line.
As Lefebvre shouted “Fire,” the first rank of soldiers deployed their weapons, and bursts of flame and smoke erupted together.
Because the distance was somewhat great, only seven or eight Albanian mercenaries were felled by gunfire. However, the Albanians reacted as if stung by scorpions, instantly parting to the sides as if the slender French line of defense was a solid stone wall.
“Fire!”
When the second rank of French soldiers fired, the thousands of mercenaries who had originally surged forth began to panic, turning their heads in retreat.
Their morale had been utterly shattered. Like startled birds at the sound of gunfire, they had a knee-jerk reaction without even raising their heads to see the number of their foes.
Surprise flickered in Lefebvre’s eyes as he called out louder, “Reload!”
“…”
“Fire!”
As the soldiers of the Guard Corps continued to fire, the Albanian forces grew even more chaotic, leading to a considerable amount of trampling.
A few thousand men were held back for nearly 20 minutes by just 200 soldiers; only a portion of the mercenaries managed to escape from the two flanks of the infantry line—Lefebvre had too few men, and the line’s width was only enough to block one quarter of the flat road.
Finally, the first echelon of the police academy cadets appeared behind the Albanian army, who promptly shifted from sporadic fleeing to throwing down their weapons and begging for mercy on their knees.
Four hours later.
Joseph, Bertier, and other officers walked through the epicenter of the former battlefield, watching the soldiers carefully carry away the wounded or loudly berate groups of Albanian mercenary prisoners passing by.
The battle had proceeded much more smoothly than Joseph had anticipated—the Guard Corps and the police academy students had all displayed high morale and excellent combat skills. Of course, a major reason was that the enemy’s forces were disjointed.
Otherwise, Bertier could only have waited for Murat’s Corps to arrive and engage in a direct, forceful battle with the more than 20,000-strong army from Algiers.
Every now and then, soldiers saw them and “snap” stood to attention to salute, while Joseph frequently nodded in acknowledgment to the troops.
Bertier received a note from the staff officer, scanned it briefly, and turned to smile at Joseph, “Your Highness, we just received a message that we’ve captured over 3,000 more enemy troops on the western side. Among them seem to be several high-ranking officers.”
“Oh? They actually caught up?”
Joseph was somewhat surprised. After the enemy routed, some fled north, while others retreated to the west. Bertier had ordered the cavalry to pursue north, thinking that the enemies on the west might escape.
“Two volunteer companies swiftly cut off to the west side of the enemy lines and blocked their retreat,” Bertier remarked.
The staff officer by the side promptly outlined the course of the blocking battle on the west.
“Francois Lefebvre?” Joseph thought the name sounded familiar. He suddenly slapped his forehead—wasn’t that the Duke of Danzig?
One of Napoleon’s marshals, he had participated in major battles like those of Fleurus and Jena and had accompanied Napoleon on the Russian campaign, with distinguished service.
Joseph instantly remembered that Lefebvre came from a commoner background, having served in the French Guards. It seemed that during the last recruitment, Bertier had him join his ranks.
No wonder he fought so fiercely, holding back more than three thousand Albanian mercenaries with just two companies. Had he inadvertently stumbled upon a treasure?
He looked at Bertier, “Lieutenant Colonel, what do you intend to award Lieutenant Lefebvre for his actions?”
The latter pondered, “He fought bravely and possesses commendable command ability; he has performed exceptionally well during previous drills.
“Your Highness, he can receive the Medal for Bravery and be promoted to captain.”
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According to the system of war merits set up by Joseph, the awards were ranked as follows: the Golden Irish Medal, the Medal for Bravery, and the Medal for Bravery for lower accomplishments. These required specific acts of valor, such as the Golden Irish, which required a major role in a particular battle, influencing the outcome.
The Medal for Bravery was awarded for significant influence on the results of the battle, and even the Medal for Bravery required significant contributions to parts of a battle.
This system was far ahead of its time!
In the armies of Europe at the time, even if there were medals, they would only be awarded to noble lords. But in the Crown Prince’s Guard, even if you came from a beggar’s background, even if you were just a menial soldier, as long as you contributed to the war, you would receive the corresponding military honors.
At the same time, each level of honor came with specific rewards and privileges. Acts of valor were immediately rewarded: money was given, promotions were made, even families could benefit.
Under such a merit system, which soldier wouldn’t fight actively? How could morale not be high?