Descending On France 1780
Chapter 202: From today, this fortress will be called Fort Lana.

Chapter 202: From today, this fortress will be called Fort Lana.

At this moment, Lana had just repelled the third wave of Austrian attacks.

The French Army occupied a circular fortress atop the hill, with its outer wall about the height of a person—not too tall, but sufficient for defense.

As the Austrian forces began to retreat, the French soldiers stood atop the earth wall and fired at the withdrawing enemy.

A bullet grazed Lana’s forehead, and the blood flowing from the wound dripped into his left eye, casting a mysterious red filter over his vision—only closing his left eye would restore it to normal.

After the battle, Lana found the army’s female bartender and got some alcohol to clean his wound.

This was a new treatment method promoted by Anning, which many of the French Army’s medics had reservations about.

But Lana had unconditional faith in what the General said.

After all, that was the General.

The General had no servants, so when Lana was at the training corps, he would occasionally take on the role of the General’s attendant. He knew how knowledgeable the General was; he had heard him speak fluent Italian and German, directly conversing with Italians and Austrian prisoners in their mother tongue.

It was said that the General also understood Latin. With such learning, what he said must be correct.

As Lana cleaned his wound, the female bartender teased: "You’re actually using this to clean your wound, what a waste! This is the liquor for bolstering courage, specially selected by me. Although the place of origin might not be entirely authentic, it’s definitely good stuff!"

Lana replied, "I know it’s good liquor. This fiery sensation when cleaning the wound, only good liquor can provide that."

The bartender retorted, "Honestly! I’ve been a bartender for a while now. When I joined the army, General Lafayette was still around! Those doctors, all they do when treating the wounded is saw off legs, saw off arms. As soon as someone’s injured, they’re ready to cut off the injured limb. Can using alcohol to clean wounds really work? I think this is just the General’s whimsical idea."

Lana countered, "You don’t understand, do you? I saw it with my own eyes! The General charged into battle himself and got a few cuts on his face; he rinsed them with alcohol, and by the next day, he was nearly healed!"

"Really? That sounds like the ramblings of an old drunkard who’s had too much to drink. Does your forehead wound also drink alcohol?" the bartender asked skeptically.

Lana firmly stated, "I’m perfectly clear-headed! I saw it with my own eyes. Plus, the little maid who accompanies the General, I chat with her from time to time. She saw the General get shot, and he acted as if nothing happened. In a few days, he was completely recovered!

"It’s said to be the effect of using alcohol on wounds!"

The bartender snorted, "Alright, I’ll wait a few days and see if it’s really that effective."

Lana insisted, "Of course it’s true. Chief of Staff Bertier has tallied it up. He says that ever since we started using alcohol to wash wounds, the troop’s casualties have greatly decreased. Many who would have needed amputations came back in one piece."

No sooner had Lana finished speaking, a big soldier with sideburns chimed in: "That’s the truth, take a look at this if you don’t believe me."

The man rolled up his sleeve, revealing a scar on his arm: "This was from the battle with Lafayette. See this scar? It’s huge! When I saw such a big wound, I knew it was time to bid farewell to my arm.

"But guess what? After insisting on washing the wound with alcohol every day, in just a few days, the wound began to heal, and I could see white, tender flesh forming at the edges of the wound! Not only did it not become necrotic, my wound didn’t even fester.

"The doctor said this was a bad sign, that festering meant the wound was healing. So, the doctor prepared to smear my wound with dirt, but that’s when the General appeared.

"He stopped the doctor and sternly demanded that every wounded soldier must ensure their wounds were kept clean. Hell, I didn’t even know what wound cleanliness was."

The characteristic of Chinese is that every character has its meaning; even when confronted with a new word never seen before, by guessing based on each character’s meaning, one could arrive at an approximately correct understanding.

But this functionality doesn’t exist in alphabetic languages like French or English; the average person suddenly hearing an unfamiliar word generally can’t guess what it means.

The sideburned veteran grumbled, "Wound cleanliness! I don’t know if my pronunciation is correct, but that’s what it was called."

"It’s Latin," Lana said. "I’m guessing."

How could a dye workshop apprentice possibly understand Latin?

The bearded veteran soldier continued reading, "In any case, the General is an extraordinary person, at least a hundred, no, a thousand times more impressive than an illiterate like me. You can’t go wrong following his lead!"

Female tavern keeper: "Really? Then next time you ask me for wine, I won’t give you any; I’ll save it to clean your wounds after you’re injured."

The old soldier’s face instantly turned thunderstruck: "How could you do this? By God’s horns, you can’t be serious!"

The surrounding soldiers all laughed.

Lana laughed too. Just then, a scout observing from below yelled, "The Austrians are coming up again!"

The moment the words left his mouth, the Austrian artillery began to fire.

Lana drew his saber and shouted to everyone, "Take your positions, be ready!"

In that era, there was no concept of dodging artillery; hearing the cannon fire meant directly going into position.

After all, the cannons of that era had a maximum range of about a kilometer and fired solid iron shot.

The French Army surged onto the earthen wall, lying down on top and shooting at the enemy below.

Because the length of the fortress’s earthen wall was not enough to accommodate all the soldiers, and lying down made it impossible to reload, the French Army adopted a method where one man would shoot while lying down and two others behind would reload.

A solid cannonball hit the fortress’s earthen wall, but instead of causing damage, because the outer side of the wall was sloped, the cannonball simply bounced off, flew into the sky, and passed over everyone’s heads.

Lana stood next to the tricolor flag planted on the fortress’s tower, one hand gripping his sword, the other holding the flagpole. He shouted loudly, "Gentlemen! The General has asked us to hold for at least two days!

"For these two days, I will stand with you! Let those damned Austrians never dare to look down on France again!"

The soldiers roared angrily together.

The Great Revolution turned France into a true nation-state, and the army of a nation-state was destined to be different from a dynastic army like that of Austria.

Moreover, the commander of this unit was none other than the "Undying Grenadier" Lana.

Lana stood on the ramparts, completely ignoring the enemy’s cannon and musket fire. He looked upon the swarming Austrians with a gaze of pity, like a Greek statue.

The Austrians had climbed the outer slope of the fortress walls, which not only served as a defense against cannon fire but also forced the attackers’ path to align with the defenders’ line of fire.

The French Army atop the walls fired furiously. At such close range, even the poorly accurate flintlocks had a quite respectable hit rate.

Countless Austrians were shot and then slid down the slope of the outer wall, turning into obstacles that hindered the advance of their comrades.

But the Austrians still managed to close into bayonet range.

Lana roared, "Now, the counterattack! Charge!"

As he shouted, Lana leaped down from the fortress tower landing amidst the enemy, cutting down an Austrian Captain with his sword.

The French soldiers sprang to their feet, howling like tigers descending the mountain.