Descending On France 1780
Chapter 211 - 204 Wellesley is now a love-brained person

Chapter 211: 204 Wellesley is now a love-brained person

December 1792, the Rhine front.

Carl Ludwig Johann Joseph Lorenz rode his white horse, watching his soldiers confiscate a large amount of weapons and ammunition from French Army prisoners.

The battlefield, after a day of fierce combat, was strewn with burning flames and ascending thick smoke.

Austrian soldiers were patrolling amidst the corpses of the French Army on the ground, searching for any possibly overlooked French military flags.

Seizing military flags was an important means of tallying the number of enemy forces defeated at that time; typically, capturing one flag signified the dispersal of one enemy unit.

This was mainly because the organization and morale of armies in this era were relatively low; the loss of a flag generally also indicated that the officers’ structure was disrupted, and it was often difficult to reorganize the troops.

However, the troops of Revolutionary France were not accurately assessed in this way due to the awakening of nationalism. Even if their regimental structures were destroyed, the soldiers of Revolutionary France would still reassemble out of patriotism and nationalism.

But the military strategists of European dynasties at that time had not realized this, so they were perplexed for a long time, wondering how the Revolutionary French armies seemed endless and impossible to completely defeat.

In these people’s perspective, the French Army should have been annihilated, and Revolutionary France already defeated.

Yes, that was what the staff of Grand Duke Carl now thought.

The Chief of Staff approached the Grand Duke with a congratulatory tone, "Your Excellency, you have achieved a great military victory..."

The Grand Duke raised a hand to stop the Chief of Staff from continuing, "Not me, the overall Commander of this battle is Marshal Alvizi."

The Chief of Staff, slightly embarrassed but still insistent on his flattery, continued: "But we all know, it was your outstanding command..."

"I’ll say it again, the glory of victory belongs to Marshal Alvizi."

The Chief of Staff pouted and finally accepted the statement: "You are right; the victory belongs to Marshal Alvizi."

Grand Duke Carl nodded: "This should please my imperial brother. No matter how splendid Frost’s victories are in Northern Italy, they are nothing compared to our victories on the Rhine battlefield."

The Chief of Staff chuckled, "That leatherworker is just lucky! But it proves that God is still on the side of the Holy Roman Empire! The glory of Habsburg still prevails!"

Grand Duke Carl was also of Habsburg lineage; proclaiming the enduring glory of Habsburg was certainly correct at such a time.

Although this Grand Duke had always been deemed a representative of the sickly and incapable, relying on his family’s position to become a General.

But after all, he was of Habsburg blood.

Grand Duke Carl gave no definitive response and gazed into the distance, in the direction of Paris: "Now, this war can end. The French definitely cannot organize so many armies this winter. We can directly take the capital of France, the pearl of Europe, Paris City!"

The Chief of Staff nodded, "Yes, this splendid victory will determine the outcome of the war in one fell swoop, and the Enlightenment will fail on the European Continent!"

**

While Grand Duke Carl was inspecting the battlefield, the Commander of the Austrian Rhine Corps, Alvizi, was also contemplating the distance from his own headquarters.

"The Emperor’s younger brother is an impressive fellow," the Marshal murmured, "Our past views of him were probably mostly wrong."

"What did you say?" his Chief of Staff asked in confusion.

"I said the Emperor’s younger brother is an impressive fellow. Don’t you feel it?" Alvizi turned to look at the Chief of Staff.

The Chief of Staff was utterly clueless.

The old Marshal shook his head, "Never mind, it’s nothing."

One certainly had to be from a noble family to serve as a Chief of Staff, and possibly hold a title even higher than Alvizi, so the old Marshal had to maintain a good relationship with his Chief of Staff.

Perhaps in France titles had become worthless, but in the Holy Roman Empire, titles still represented many things.

The Chief of Staff didn’t seem to think too much and joyfully said, "Now, between us and Paris, there are only a few French fortresses left. If we’re optimistic, we could be at the gates of Paris City by next February!"

Armies of that time couldn’t carry out maneuvers like bypassing fortresses because the army’s supplies depended on existing city storage facilities. If they chose to bypass fortresses without taking them, even if the enemy didn’t harass them with divided forces, the troop’s supplies would soon become problematic.

After all, logistics in this era largely relied on carts pulled by mules and horses; transportation efficiency was extremely low.

From the Rhein battlefield to Paris, there were two strong defensive fortresses, Bitburg and Verdun, where the French Army, according to the most advanced modern military engineering doctrines, had established exceptionally powerful defensive works.

However, the good news was that these places were essentially plains. Although there were river networks serving as barriers, the rivers flowed very slowly, making it relatively simple to construct pontoon bridges or use ferries to cross them.

It can be said that Paris City was but a step away from opening its gates.

Alvizi was confident that within a few months he could attack the city of Paris.

At least at this point in time, the coalition of the Holy Roman Empire and Prussia was seen as having a nailed down victory in this war against France.

**

UK, London.

Arthur Wellesley was nervously sitting in the chair at the Warrior’s House Club at number 15 Fleet Street; today, he would present here the sonnet he had composed for his beloved Catherine.

For this, he had recited the poem many times in his heart, with every syllable carefully scrutinized.

He had also brought his own violin, now entrusted to Mr. Willie, the club butler. If Catherine liked the poem, he could further propose to play a piece on the violin.

Arthur Wellesley’s gaze occasionally fell on his Catherine. Oh heavens, she was so beautiful, so captivating!

Precisely because of this, Arthur scarcely took in any of the topics being discussed by the gentlemen present - Austria’s great victory at the Rhein River, the possibility of Austria dominating Europe alone, and how the UK needed to readjust its stance and stand together with France holding its nose... Arthur Wellesley wasn’t listening at all.

This was normal, as he did not have a high evaluation at the Angers cavalry school; nobody thought he would achieve much in the military realm.

Angers’ instructors evaluated Wellesley: "Physically weak, inattentive to studies, spending more time on his little hunting dog than on military courses."

That was essentially the truth.

In the more than five years since graduating from the military academy, Wellesley had mostly focused on assisting the UK’s Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, with little concern for his military duties in the 18th Light Cavalry.

Military service brought Wellesley nothing more than a modest income, which was far insufficient to support his social expenditures, to the point where he had to borrow money from his landlord.

But what did it matter?

Now Wellesley could only think about his Catherine, beautiful Catherine...

"Hey, Arthur!" At this moment, a young lieutenant poked Wellesley’s shoulder at the table, "I’m asking you, what do you think of the Austrian victory?"

Wellesley asked in confusion, "What do I think? The Austrian victory? Haven’t the French been winning all along, that fellow named Frost, hasn’t he beaten the Austrians utterly?"

"Oh my, Arthur, that’s old news," the lieutenant replied, "Frost did achieve many victories in Italy, but the Austrians have won a decisive and sweeping victory on the crucial Rhein front! It was Marshal Alvizi who won that victory!"

Wellesley stammered in response, "Is... that so? When was this news?"

"Just this morning; that’s what we’re talking about! What’s your opinion?"

"What do I think?" Wellesley was stunned for a few seconds, "I... France has always been our adversary, hasn’t it? If the Austrians won, that should be a good thing, right?"

"How could it be a good thing!"

"Arthur! France, like us, is a constitutional monarchy. This is a defeat for constitutional monarchy! I think next, we’ll have to stand with our constitutional monarchist allies!"

"Yes, and if the Austrians win too much, they might just restore the past glory of the Holy Roman Empire, Prime Minister Pitt won’t allow for a de facto power to emerge on the European Continent."

"Surely not, even if the Austrians win a lot, aren’t there Prussia and Russia to check them?"

The young officers at the table burst into spirited discussion again, while Arthur Wellesley absentmindedly gazed at his Catherine.

— Ah, I wonder if today I’ll have the chance to present my sonnet to her...

The future distinguished British general still had only his yet-to-begin romance on his mind.

Little did he know then what sort of encounter he would have with that leatherworker named Frost.