I'm the Dauphin in France

Chapter 1215 The Cicada Awaits (Seeking Monthly Tickets)

Piro's advisor glanced at his pocket watch, then turned and reminded him:
"General, it's almost nine o'clock."

Piro nodded solemnly. According to the plan, he would launch the attack simultaneously with Blücher at 10:30 AM.

When he was still a colonel, he had fought under Napoleon's command. He vividly remembered the scene of the French army bullying the Austrian army.

But now, he was about to face the French army head-on.

He had a feeling that he was about to jump into a gladiatorial arena and fight lions to the death.

"Thank goodness that person isn't here," he muttered to himself, puffing out his chest to appear more confident.

He was referring to Napoleon, of course.

"Tell the soldiers to prepare for battle," he gestured to the messenger. "We will definitely win."

Meanwhile, 10 kilometers southeast of Pilot's army, a messenger raised his hat to Colonel Joubert, commander of the French "Engineering Corps," and said:
"Colonel, General Ney asked me to tell you that he is ready."

"Please tell General Ney that the Sardinians are in the valley to his southwest. There are more than 12,000 of them."

"Yes, Colonel."

Jubel then looked at Parma's commander Montalto beside him:
"They should be making their move soon, let's get ready to go."

At 10:30 a.m. sharp, the booming sound of cannons echoed from the Gotthard Pass.

Blücher's army pushed its last four 6-pounder cannons to the front. The Royal Grenadiers launched a desperate assault on the French lines.

But in less than twenty minutes, they were driven back by French heavy artillery, leaving behind only corpses scattered on the ground.

Blücher glanced at his watch and roared:

"Why aren't those Sardinian fools attacking yet?"

Fearing he might miss a crucial opportunity, he turned and waved to an officer:
"Major Ophir, you will personally lead five hussars squadrons, in coordination with the grenadier battalion, to continue the attack!"

"Yes, General."

Three kilometers from the mountain pass, beside the river valley, the staff officer looked at Pilo anxiously and said:

"General, the Prussian army has already begun fighting the French army, we..."

The latter raised his hand, interrupting him:

"Wait a minute, let the Prussians draw more fire, otherwise we might not be able to get close to the French positions. We only have one chance to attack."

Nearly half an hour later, Piro finally gritted his teeth and gave the order:
"Move out as planned."

More than 10,000 Sardinian soldiers immediately leaped out of the valley and rushed straight toward the French army outside the mountain pass.

However, they had only walked two kilometers when a brisk drumbeat suddenly came from the bushes ahead, and then a white line of infantry appeared in front of them.

Pirot saw the flag of the French 52nd Infantry Regiment through his binoculars, frowned, and gestured to his staff:
"Go and tell the French that we have come to reinforce the defenses of the mountain pass."

The staff officer left and never returned.

Pirot felt a sense of foreboding, but when the hussars reported that there were fewer than two thousand French troops ahead, he regained his confidence.

"Order Colonel Fellini to launch an attack and repel the French!"

Immediately, the Sardinian army's cannons began spewing flames. Two lines of infantry also rapidly advanced towards the French troops in front of them.

Just then, several thunderous explosions made Pilo's ears ring.

He didn't think he had brought that many cannons... The thought had just crossed his mind when he suddenly froze—the direction of the cannon fire was wrong!

He turned his head sharply, just as another series of booming sounds came. This time, he heard it clearly: the cannons were firing from his side and rear.

Two cavalrymen galloped up at him in a panic, shouting:

"General, our rear guard is under attack!"

Piro's face immediately turned pale: "Who is it?"

"He looks like a Frenchman, a general."

Currently, the entire northern Italy has switched to French-style white military uniforms, making it quite difficult to distinguish them at first glance.

"Damn it! How could this happen..."

Piro hurriedly ordered the two nearest infantry regiments to set up a defensive line on the spot, but it was obviously too late.

Joubert's hussars cut in from the left flank of the Sardinian army, and eight French columns almost simultaneously charged behind Pirot's central army.

Further behind were the Parma army's infantry lines. With the French leading the charge, their morale was high and their fighting spirit was strong.

The Sardinian army's frontal attack also suffered a crushing defeat.

Although there were only two thousand French troops on this side, their firepower was fierce and their defensive line was tight, and they quickly repelled Fellini's first wave of attacks.

Then, there was no second wave.

The fleeing soldiers, charging from the rear of the Sardinian army, broke up Fellini's formation.

Upon learning that they were surrounded by French troops, Sardinia's vanguard also began to flee.

On Blücher's side, after losing more than 3 soldiers in a frantic breakout, they finally heard the long-awaited cannon fire from the south.

"These Sardinian idiots with no sense of time have finally arrived!" he cursed angrily and ordered the largest offensive to be launched.

More than two thousand Prussian infantrymen, under the cover of three cavalry squadrons, surged toward the outside of the mountain pass—the maximum number the pass could hold—and the general promised them a reward of 200 thalers each if they broke through the French lines.

"Scatter as much as possible, don't be afraid!" A Prussian officer pointed south. "Can you hear the cannon fire in the distance? That's Sardinian troops attacking the French rear."

"The enemy's defenses will soon fall into disarray. Victory will be ours!"

The Prussian soldiers roared and charged forward, their eyes bloodshot as they faced the whistling shells.

However, they had only gone less than 200 meters when the inspiring sound of artillery fire in the distance suddenly stopped without warning.

The Prussians exchanged puzzled glances, their pace slowing involuntarily.

A dozen shells whizzed through them. Blood mist instantly filled the air, and torn limbs were scattered everywhere…

The French defenses showed no signs of disarray, and the shelling remained consistently dense and accurate.

Blücher continued his fierce attack until after 3 p.m., but he never heard any further movement from the Sardinians.

Finally, the horrific casualties deterred the Prussian soldiers from advancing, and even though officers killed several men, they were unable to organize another charge.

Blücher used every swear word he could think of on the Sardinians.

At this point, his army had only about a week's worth of food left—Switzerland was extremely poor, and he hadn't managed to get much food in the Altdorf area—and if he couldn't enter northern Italy, he would only face two outcomes: a mutiny or surrender.

The surrounding area was filled with the painful cries of wounded soldiers, and all the officers stared at him blankly.

Blücher finally let out a heavy sigh and gave a low command:

"Retreat. Return to Altdorf."

(End of this chapter)