Clay Bell looked at the old Dumas who came to visit him, his eyebrows twisted into knots: "Just like you, I’ve been running around day and night. Now, I want to rest properly before the enemy arrives."
Old Dumas: "Then we’ll have to face the coalition’s regular troops without proper fortifications. You’re aware of our forces’ capabilities. Do you think we can hold back an enemy force twice our size without fortifications?"
Clay Bell pursed his lips and stayed silent.
Old Dumas added a sentence: "Especially in such an exhausted state."
Clay Bell: "Go to hell. After this battle, I’ll have a serious talk with you about treating people like animals! Take me to the edge of the village to check the terrain."
Old Dumas smiled, showing his white teeth.
Clay Bell continued to rant: "You damn devil, Black Devil!"
The local military station chief made a welcoming gesture: "This way, please."
Clay Bell, grudging and resentful, started walking, then suddenly turned back and said: "Oh right, call Moro as well. We shouldn’t be the only ones working while he sleeps. We are all battalion commanders; it should be equal, understand, equal!"
Old Dumas: "Very well, call him. As a commander, he should familiarize himself with the terrain in advance too."
The three battalion commanders, led by the head of the local military station, left Babi Village.
Clay Bell muttered: "Babi Village, Babi Village, why not just call it Spider Village?"
Military station chief: "I don’t know either; the locals have never told us the origin of this name. Alright, gentlemen, we’re outside the village now, and the terrain is as you see it."
Clay Bell looked at the open terrain before him and was speechless.
Old Dumas also frowned: "Bushes... there are a few, but not enough to rely on. The good news is, we at least have a wooden fence."
Clay Bell looked at the "wooden fence," which was more like a row of railings, certainly not capable of serving as cover.
There was nothing on the open field except some scattered barns and bushes, no terrain features that could be used defensively.
Clay Bell: "You want me to construct fortifications, but there’s no way to build them here, not even a high ground."
Old Dumas: "We can only fight for each courtyard in the village."
Moro suddenly said: "No, we can’t hold back a regular army assault on the courtyards. I think we should disperse our troops and harass the enemy in a skirmishing formation."
Old Dumas: "This terrain does suit skirmishers, but it’s a shame it’s spring. If it were autumn and the fields were full of tall wheat for hiding, that would be better. But the biggest problem with skirmishers is how to ensure they don’t run away. Even with regular troops, once they disperse or their officers die, the unit collapses.
"Skirmishers are typically criminals or mercenaries, and our forces consist entirely of farmers and trousered civilians. Do you expect tailors and bricklayers to become competent skirmishers? No, no, they’ll begin to rout at the first contact."
Old Dumas, being a career soldier, still upheld old military notions: skirmishers were rogues or bandits, naturally inclined to fight.
Moreover, the old army, to make skirmishers fearless, would often distribute strong liquor before battle and even let prostitutes serve as alewives carrying kegs of alcohol along with the skirmishing troops.
Clay Bell: "Wait a minute, do you remember what General Frost said? He said that the new France army is different from the old one; they’re not conscripts dragged onto the battlefield by noble lords but individuals who volunteer, driven by their will to defend the Republic, and they don’t break easily."
Old Dumas frowned: "I don’t understand this spirit of the Republic or what the general means by nationalism, but I understand the military. Skirmishers won’t work; we’re better off entrenched in the village..."
Moro: "Let’s try it, I also want to see if the Republic really has the magic Frost spoke of."
Moro was a staunch republican. In actual history, due to his excessive commitment to the republic, he had a conflict with Napoleon, who had become emperor, and was exiled to the United States.
Later, another staunch republican, Bernadotte, invited him back to oppose Napoleon, who had usurped France.
But the current Moro, still a novice and yet to undergo the trials of the Revolutionary Wars, had not experienced the courage and glory that the Republic bestowed on its soldiers.
He was a republican, but not yet staunch.
Elder Zhongma sized up Moro: "You seem very excited."
"Yes," Moro admitted frankly, "I’ve always been hesitant about whether the Republic is really that good, now I want to see it for myself."
Elder Zhongma sighed: "Alright, let’s try it in a dispersed formation, but we still need fortifications, at least some solid artillery emplacements."
Clay Bell: "The good news is, we have enough wood."
The time reached twelve noon.
Clay Bell had just fallen asleep for an hour when his adjutant woke him.
"Brigadier, the enemy is coming!"
Clay Bell: "What enemy?"
"The coalition! The enemy is coming!"
Clay Bell froze for a few seconds, then slapped himself hard: "Damn, it’s the enemy! Are the troops up yet?"
Clay Bell put on his military uniform, lifted the door curtain, and exited the building to see his brigade frantically assembling.
A messenger soldier riding a horse rushed in shouting: "The 66th Brigade has already set off, the brigadier sent me to hurry you!"
Clay Bell: "We’re setting off immediately!"
By then, his brigade had finally formed up.
Clay Bell: "Run forward, our position is on the left flank, get into place quickly!"
Elder Zhongma had already reached his position, riding a horse and observing the enemy formation changing in the distance.
In this era, they had to form up before launching an attack.
This was a big undertaking, even the most well-trained armies would be busy for a while.
More ceremonious generals would even set up camp after arriving on the battlefield, rest for a day, and then attack the next day at a leisurely pace.
But this time, the coalition general clearly had no sense of ceremony.
Upon discovering defenders ahead, he immediately shifted from marching formation to attack formation.
Elder Zhongma watched the enemy’s formation change and estimated the enemy’s training level based on the speed of the formation change.
"Damn," he cursed, "it’s a well-trained unit."
At that moment, an officer beside him shouted: "Clay Bell’s troops have arrived."
Elder Zhongma turned his head towards the flank, saw Clay Bell’s troops arrive at their position in a marching formation, and then scatter in disarray.
Compared to the coalition forces directly ahead, the difference was clear.
Elder Zhongma shook his head, then raised his hand: "All artillery positions, prepare!"
Since only Elder Zhongma had formal military training, he commanded all the artillerymen.
Black Devil pressed his hand downward and roared: "Fire!"