Descending On France 1780
Chapter 196 - 189 Observations of an Italian Youth in the Army

Chapter 196: 189 Observations of an Italian Youth in the Army

Brescia, Anning deployed the Redwood troops recruited from the Milan Republic here.

This evening, a young Milanese named Baz was warming up by the fire with some veteran soldiers.

From Rome northwards in Italy, the closer one gets to the Alpine Mountains, the colder it gets. By December, places at the foot of the Alpine Mountains like Brescia are usually draped in a mantle of snow.

Baz was vigorously rubbing his hands by the fire, trying to give his red, frozen palms a bit of relief. At that moment, a veteran beside him handed him a cup of hot coffee: "Here kid, hold this, it’ll help you feel better."

Baz said thanks, then took the coffee cup, glancing at the black liquid inside.

Just from the smell, he knew it tasted horribly bitter.

Seeing Baz’s expression, the veteran laughed heartily: "Kid, once you understand the joys of coffee, you’ll be all grown up."

Anxious, Baz said, "I can drink coffee, I am already an adult!"

"Then take a sip and let’s see," several other soldiers around the fire teased.

Baz’s face stiffened.

Just then, someone made a "pfft" sound, and gestured towards the distance.

The Milanese soldiers turned around and saw a troop carrying brass-coated golden guns proudly marching into a house nearby.

Someone grumbled discontentedly: "It must be nice, the French get to stay in houses while we have to sleep in tents. It’s freezing to death out here."

The veteran, Wazi Qiang, who had just given Baz coffee, snorted: "Forget it, I heard that these are the troops General Frost places great hopes on. They’ve got new weapons that can be loaded from the back of the butt!"

"From the gun’s butt or from the person’s butt?" someone asked, immediately sparking laughter.

Wazi Qiang chuckled: "From the gun’s butt, of course. Those rifles have rifling inside the barrel and can’t be loaded from the front because you need a hammer to drive the bullet down the bore.

"Let me tell you, they say those guns are still accurate up to two hundred meters..."

"What’s a meter?" Baz asked, puzzled.

Wazi Qiang explained: "You might not know, but it’s a unit of length set by some French metric committee. The French use it as a basic unit.

"They say it’s one of the achievements of the great revolution. It’s quite useful; conversions between different units are easy, increasing by ten each time."

No sooner had he finished that someone by the fire commented: "I heard the French are even requiring all the craftsmen in Milan to adopt this unit length, banning the use of our own units. The French even brought a one-meter ruler and placed it in the square in front of Milan’s City Hall.

"At least the Austrians didn’t make us change the length units we’re used to."

Wazi Qiang snorted: "Forget it, the Austrians don’t even consider us humans; at least the French treat us as such."

Baz added: "The French hanged the noble lords, distributed houses to our families, and got my father a job; personally, I really appreciate the French, that’s why I am here."

Someone loudly suggested by the fire: "To the damned liberators."

So mostly everyone raised their glasses, and then gladly drank it all in one gulp.

Baz held onto a steaming cup of coffee, not joining everyone in the toast—truly, he could not stand the bitterness of coffee; he was merely pretending earlier.

As the Italians toasted, another troop carrying new rifles wrapped in brass entered the same building.

Someone by the fire said, "That gun, I wonder if it’s made of gold."

"Don’t be silly, it’s just wrapped with brass. It seems to be an order from General Himself. The production time for those rifles hasn’t reduced much, and they are hard to produce. So, General went the opposite direction and added a process—wrapping the barrel in brass to make it look golden," said Wazi Qiang.

Someone by the fire mockingly asked, "How do you know everything, Wazi Qiang? Are you involved with the French?"

Wazi Qiang replied, "You don’t understand, the French are also people. When I was in Milan, I used to frequent a bar where French soldiers stationed nearby would drink. I was the only one who understood French, so I often helped the bar’s owner to translate for the French."

Someone else asked, "How come you understand French?"

Wazi Qiang laughed: "Because I was once a student at the Divinity School, you may not know this, but although the Pope lives in Italy, the cardinals in the Pope Hall all speak French, and all the nobility across Europe speak French."

Baz said in surprise, "Is that so? Is French that powerful?"

"Of course," Wazi Qiang patted Baz’s head, "even the Austrian King, the Habsburg Holy Roman Emperor who is currently waging war against us, can speak French fluently. Not just that, further north in Prussia, everyone in the King’s court can speak French. Even in the barbaric lands to the east, the Russian Grand Duchesses and Generals can also speak French."

Baz: "Really? Then why are they attacking France?"

Wazi Qiang: "How would I know, I just studied a few years in the Divinity School, how could I understand the ideas of noble lords?"

At that moment, someone in the crowd by the fire shouted, "Hey, look over there."

Curious, Baz looked up and in the direction indicated, only to see a maid of about his age carrying a box walking on the street.

The person who had drawn their attention said mysteriously, "I heard that she’s the General’s maid; the General has no aide-de-camp and has always had his maid take care of him. It’s said that though the maid looks as young as Baz, she is actually over twenty years old."

"Really?" Baz was extremely shocked, "She even looks younger than me, about the same age as my sister."

"You don’t understand, it’s said that the General’s maid comes from Croatia and is a fairy from the tales! The General himself is a Great Magician, which is why he can defeat so many enemies with fewer troops!

"The French even call the General ’the Magician of the battlefield’; having followed the General for so long, they must know something."

Baz: "I thought it was just a nickname, describing the General’s adeptness at military strategy..."

"You’re too naive, General impressed everyone in his first battle in France, defeating more than 40,000 troops of General Lafayette with just 15,000 troops! If not magic, how could it be possible?" The person kept talking to Baz, took a huge swig of alcohol, then continued shaking his head.

Then another person spoke up: "No, no, I’ve heard that the General received divine revelation from Yahweh and is a Saint!"

Someone immediately countered: "Nonsense, the General is French, and he also took over the Pope’s holdings in Conte and plundered the Church’s property. I bet he’s an envoy of Satan, leading his troops to Italy to target the Vatican, aiming to transform Rome into Satan’s earthly capital!"

As Baz held onto his steaming coffee cup, he listened to the adults around him discuss the legendary General, his face showing reverence.

He muttered softly, "How nice, I wonder if I can ever meet the General himself."