I'm the Dauphin in France

Chapter 1233 The Value of Prisoners of War

"Were they sent to the battlefield by that patricide?" Nasserli asked. Although the honorary representative's story didn't explicitly mention Paul I's assassination, everyone already guessed who was responsible.

“Yes…” Sergeant Popard reacted quickly, smiling, “Don’t try to trick me. We’ll hear about the real culprit tonight.”

"But these people all deserved it. They came here to destroy France."

Just then, the Russian prisoners of war, who had been busy, suddenly stopped what they were doing and turned to look west.

Gaizka nervously pulled his gun from behind his back: "Are they about to riot?"

The guards at the railway construction site also began to raise their guns and shout, but soon the Russian prisoners of war bowed to a certain place and said something respectfully.

Sergeant Popard, who knew a little Russian, frowned and asked, "Your Highness? Is it the Crown Princess?"

Gaizka, with her keen eyesight, immediately pointed to the ceremonial procession in the distance: "There. Is that the Crown Princess in the purple dress?"

A group of palace guards escorted Alexandra to the midst of the prisoners of war, and then signaled servants to bring over baskets of steaming bread. Accompanying them were dozens of doctors carrying medicine chests.

The Crown Princess gestured to the guards at the construction site. Before long, thousands of Russian prisoners of war lined up and walked past her one by one.

“These are baked in my bakery. Eat up.” Alexandra handed the bread to the prisoners of war, then said a few words of comfort. If she saw any wounded people, she instructed the doctor to treat their wounds.

When the Russian prisoners of war saw the Russian-style accessories on the princess's collar and held the still-warm bread, almost all of them began to silently wipe away their tears.

At this moment, only Her Highness the Princess still remembers them...

After distributing the benefits, Alexandra went to the rail crane not far away, lifted her skirt and jumped onto the operating platform, which was more than a meter high. Then she called for the Russians to gather around and spoke in clear Russian that cut through the cold morning air: "You still remember me, that's good."

I remember you all too!
“When I was a child, my father often took you to train near the Gatchina Palace.”

These Russian soldiers had previously loathed Paul I's training, but after working hard for half a month on this freezing construction site, they all felt it was the best memory of their lives.

Alexandra continued, "Today, I am not here to reminisce with you about the past, but to ask you questions."

"Look at the frostbite on your hands, your weary bodies, the wounds under your shackles. Have these earned you the glory the Tsar promised you?"

"My dear brother, that wretched wretch who lusts power above his soul, made a deal with the devil without hesitation, trading my father's life... for his crown!"

"Yes, he shot my father with a flintlock pistol. Every Russian knows that there was no candlestick, it wasn't an accidental fall, it was him who fired the shot..."

She took a deep breath, and her voice suddenly lowered:
"And now, in the warmth of his winter palace, sitting on his gilded throne, he is betting you as chips on a gamble to win him more power!"

"Without a doubt, you were all gambled away like a handful of silver coins he casually grabbed, and now you are here working day and night to pay off his debts."

"I'm not just here to expose the lies. I want you all to remember this shame—the shame of being deceived, used, and then abandoned by the man sitting in the Winter Palace!"

“I hope you all live well. I will plead with the guards here; they will not mistreat you. And you must work hard until the day you return home—that day will surely come—and then go and tell everyone you can find the truth about this war. Tell the families of those soldiers who could not return to Russia whose blood they shed…”

Gaizka, who couldn't understand Russian, looked at the honorary representative with pleading eyes: "Sergeant Popard, is the Crown Princess encouraging the prisoners to escape?"

Popard's Russian was limited, and he could only understand a little, but he still shook his head and said, "No, she's telling them a story."

“It’s pretty much the same story I’ve been telling you these past few days.” He turned and waved to the soldiers: “Put your guns away, there’s nothing to do here. Let’s keep going.”

The next day, Gaizka saw the rushing river ahead. It was the Rhine.

In the Strasbourg camp, more than two-thirds of the French 23rd Infantry Division had assembled.

According to the company commander, the rest would arrive the day after tomorrow. At that time, the 23rd Infantry Division would head to Karlsruhe to fight against tens of thousands of invading troops commanded by the British general Pickton.

At that time, the entire newly formed Sixth Army, consisting of 35,000 men, along with their equipment and logistical supplies, had arrived on the east bank of the Rhine.

……

Meanwhile, the Marquis of Wellesley was venting his anger on his officers in Zwickau, a city in western Saxony.

"Snow is no excuse for leaving supplies in Dresden! The soldiers have been drinking river water for three days, and you must send me wine immediately!"

A Saxon staff officer, his face flushed, finally couldn't help but whisper, "General, actually, your supply convoy was intercepted by Prince Blackingham..."

Wellesley was stunned. Prince Heisingen was Archduke Karl's favorite general; even if he sent someone to argue, he probably wouldn't get his supplies back.

He waved his hand helplessly: "Then hurry up and send your men before the cholera outbreak starts in the army."

He came here from northern Italy with the main force of the Allied forces. It has been more than a month since they arrived. The soldiers can barely hold on, but the logistical supplies are constantly in trouble.

Especially when relying on the German states of Saxony and Thuringia for logistical support, various delays would occur, and supplies would often have to be transported from Vienna over long distances.

Not long after the Saxon officer left, the Duke of York arrived in haste.

Marquis Wellesley quickly bowed and said, "Your Highness, what brings you here?"

The Duke of York would usually be with Archduke Charles's main force, which was more than ten kilometers away, and he certainly wouldn't come over unless something major happened.

“Emden has been attacked,” the Duke of York said, frowning. “And Hanover currently has no troops available.”

Emden was a Prussian enclave on the Dutch border, and it wasn't heavily garrisoned. If the French occupied it, Hanover, the English king's homeland, would be in grave danger.

In fact, Lefebvre had been preparing to launch a surprise attack on Hanover for more than half a month, but while his military capabilities were good, his political and diplomatic skills were really lacking.

He left the Flemish Legion in Amsterdam to defend against the British forces of the Moorish Lords, but the Dutch were the first to object and almost came to blows with the Flemish army—the Flemish were their enemies who had occupied large swathes of their southern territory.

As a result, Lefebvre had no choice but to have Schaike retreat to Antwerp first, and then he and Moore fought for a long time before he barely managed to drive the remaining British troops to the north bank of Cologne.

Wellesley's expression also turned serious: "We should request His Majesty William III to send troops to reinforce us."

The Duke of York nodded: "We've already made contact, but he's asking the Allied forces to help Blücher break out."

"Oh, damn it..."

"Grand Duke Karl has agreed to send 20,000 troops to reinforce the area."

(End of this chapter)