Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 208 Target: Amiens (Bonus Chapter 33)

The headquarters of the Holy Britannian Empire's expeditionary force in the city of Alas.

Commander-in-Chief John French sensed something was amiss after receiving news that morning of "large-scale Saxon troop activity in the southeast."

He had always considered the junction between the expeditionary force in the southeast and the Gallic Fifth Army to be a huge defensive vulnerability.

This gap of approximately 20 kilometers is theoretically just enough for the Saxon army to deploy.

When the cannon fire rang out from the southeast at six o'clock, John French's fears came true.

Not long after the sound of artillery fire gradually faded, a staff officer rushed into John French's command tent with a telegram in hand, his face filled with terror.

"Your Excellency Marshal, our right flank... our right flank has been breached by the Saxons!"

"what?!"

John French jumped up from his chair and snatched the battle report from his hand.

The contents of the battle report plunged him into an icy abyss.

Through the gap southeast of Alas, the Saxons amassed 80,000 troops, supported by hundreds of cannons and armored knights, and launched a devastating attack on the right flank of his defenses, where it met the Gallic Fifth Army.

The defensive line was completely torn apart in less than an hour after the attack began.

The 5th Infantry Division, responsible for defending that section of the line, suffered heavy casualties shortly after the start of the battle, and a gap in the line appeared inexplicably.

The commander of the 5th Infantry Division sent out reserves to try to fill the gap, but the reserves were also quickly overwhelmed.

If he hadn't ordered the division headquarters to retreat immediately, his division headquarters might have been wiped out by this force.

The Saxon forces then poured in through this breach.

Since the first batch of armored knights and mages arriving in the expeditionary force were few in number, John French deployed them at the front to withstand the massive main force of the Saxon First Army.

This resulted in the Saxon troops who attacked from the southeast being able to move through the defensive line with their armored knights as if there were no one there.

The Saxon armored knights may not have been superior in performance, but their numerical advantage became apparent, allowing them to allocate their forces more efficiently.
The telegram concluded by stating that the 5th Infantry Division, with the support of the 6th Infantry Division, had begun an orderly retreat.

Meanwhile, a small, unidentified Saxon assault force, like a knife, hurtled straight toward Alas.

"Damn it! How could they be so fast!"

John French broke out in a cold sweat after reading the telegram.

He knew that his worst fears had come true.

The Saxons found the weakest link in the allied defenses and, relying on their overwhelming numerical superiority, sent troops to outflank the enemy and deliver a fatal blow.
"What about the Gauls? What about the Fifth Gallic Army? What's their reaction?" John French asked anxiously.

The staff officer's face showed an expression even more unsightly than crying.

"Marshal. The Gauls. They're not responding at all! Our liaison officer reports back that General Langlezak's command post is completely unreachable!"

"Their positions were in chaos, and according to the last news, they also seemed to be under heavy attack from the Saxon Second Army."

"I knew we couldn't count on the Gauls!"

John French was so angry that he started cursing.

He was now 100% certain that the Fifth Army would not be able to come to his aid; they might not even be able to save themselves.

The expeditionary force commander walked to the map and looked at the huge gap in the southeastern defense line pierced by a red arrow, which his staff had just drawn. A chill ran from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

His entire right flank was now completely exposed to the Saxon forces.

If he does not take action soon, his entire expeditionary force will be in danger of being outflanked and then divided and annihilated by the Saxons.

And that unknown small force mentioned in the telegram.
He could tell at a glance that the other party was heading towards the expeditionary force headquarters.

"Where did they get the courage, and such decisiveness?"

However, John French knew very well that this was not the time to think about such things. One thought became crystal clear in his mind—the expeditionary force must not be lost here.

He took a deep breath, turned around, and gave the order he had prepared long ago.

"Give me the order!"

The staff officers around him all held their breath and turned their gazes toward their commander-in-chief.

"All troops, immediately disengage from the enemy in front!"

"what?!"

A young staff officer couldn't help but exclaim, "Marshal, are we...are we retreating now? We've only just engaged the enemy!"

“Shut up!” John French glared at him fiercely. “Do you want to end up like the Gauls, surrounded and annihilated by the Saxons?!”

The young staff officer shrank back, too afraid to speak again, after being yelled at.

The command center fell into a deathly silence.

Everyone understood what the marshal's order meant.

This means they will abandon Alas, abandoning the land they have just set foot on.

This also means that they will not hesitate to hand over their ally—the Gallic Fifth Army—to the vicious Saxons.

Militarily, this might be a 'rational' decision, but morally, it is a blatant betrayal.

“Marshal.” An older staff officer, a confidant of John French, hesitated before speaking:

"Aren't we really going to inform the Gauls? Even if it's just a token gesture?"

"Notify them?"

John French scoffed, interrupting him.

"Should we inform them and let them hold us back, or should we inform them and let them run with us, turning the entire retreat into a chaotic rout?"

He glanced around at his staff and said in an icy tone:
"Gentlemen, please remember! You are officers of the Holy Britannian Empire! Your primary duty is to Her Majesty the Queen! And to be responsible for the lives of our 100,000 expeditionary soldiers!"

"As for the Gauls, I have warned them countless times at the Allied Conference! It is their own stupidity and arrogance that prevented them from listening to any advice! Their current predicament is entirely their own fault! We have no obligation to pay the price for their stupidity!"

His words were spoken with absolute certainty, leaving no room for negotiation.

The staff officers inside the tent fell silent.

They knew that the marshal had made up his mind.

"Order General Haig to command the 1st and 2nd Infantry Divisions as the rearguard, providing alternating cover to delay the enemy's pursuit from the front!"

"Order General Dorian to command the Third and Fourth Infantry Divisions and the Cavalry Division to reinforce the Fifth and Sixth Infantry Divisions in the southeast, and then immediately retreat at full speed towards Amiens!"

"Order the engineers to blow up all the bridges and destroy all the roads along our retreat route! Do everything possible to slow down the Saxons!"

"Order the troops besieged at Dunkirk to immediately contact the Royal Navy and prepare to board ships and evacuate at any time!"

Commands were issued clearly and swiftly from John French's mouth.

His brain was working at its maximum capacity at that moment.

He remained completely calm, and the entire evacuation plan was organized in an orderly manner.

He had already rehearsed this plan countless times in his mind.

"Yes, Marshal!"

The staff officers responded in unison, then turned and ran quickly out of the tent to relay the order.

Soon, a strange scene unfolded on the Brittany Expeditionary Force's position.

The troops that had just been fiercely fighting the Saxons suddenly seemed to receive a unified order, and their firepower instantly decreased.

Then, they began to slowly retreat in a highly layered manner, taking turns providing cover.

The entire process, though rushed, was orderly despite the chaos, showing no signs of collapse.

This sudden turn of events puzzled the Saxons who were launching a fierce attack.

Meanwhile, Morin, who had already led the training assault battalion to break through the southeastern defense line and was rapidly advancing to within 2 kilometers of the city of Alas after the follow-up infantry were in position, immediately realized the problem.

"Damn it, the Britannians are running away!"

"Don't retreat to Amiens, that's a tough place to fight."

Provisional command of the Fifth Gallic Army.

General Langlezak was frantically directing his troops to withstand the frontal pressure from the Second Saxon Army.

Since his disastrous defeat at Charleroi, his Fifth Army had been in low spirits and retreated all the way.

Now, with great difficulty, they have managed to stabilize their position on the San Quentin front.

But the Saxons' offensive was like a tidal wave, each wave more intense than the last.

"Reporting to the general! The first line of defense has fallen! Enemy cavalry are penetrating deep into our lines!"

"Reporting, General! Our left wing... our left wing has been completely cut off!"

One piece of bad news after another came like snowflakes, making Langlezak's heart sink little by little.

"The left wing? What's the left wing? Where are the Brittans?! Shouldn't they be there?!"

Langlezak grabbed an aide by the collar and roared at the top of his lungs.

"General, we...we don't know."

The staff officer turned pale with fright; he himself was also somewhat out of sorts at that moment.

“We sent dozens of communication requests to the Brittany Expeditionary Force command, but...we received no response. It was as if they had vanished into thin air.”

Vanished into thin air?

Langlezak released his grip, staggered back two steps, and plopped down in the chair.

He wasn't stupid. A terrifying thought instantly flashed through his mind.

They ran away.

Langlezak muttered to himself, his voice filled with despair and disbelief.

"Those damned Bretons, they abandoned us and ran away!"

He finally understood why the Saxon offensive had suddenly become so fierce, and why his left flank had suddenly lost contact.
Because his entire left wing is wide open!

The Saxon troops must now be flanking him from the flank and rear through that huge gap!
(End of this chapter)