Descending On France 1780
Chapter 261 - 254 Mediocre commander Bertier

Chapter 261: 254 Mediocre commander Bertier

Anning’s side.

This morning, when Anning opened his eyes, the room was already very bright.

Judging by the brightness, Anning concluded that he had overslept.

He reached out and, sure enough, the bed next to him was empty.

So he rolled out of bed, yawning and putting on his coat.

At that moment, perhaps having heard some noise in the room, the maids opened the door and entered in single file, starting to help Anning get dressed.

Anning: "No need, no need! I can dress myself! Don’t fuss over me, go do something else! Really, why have so many maids, I need to have a word with Christina."

One of the maids quickly said: "Please don’t say that, now we all rely on our jobs at the Versailles Palace to feed our families."

"Yes, yes, I’m a maid under the lady’s employment, and my husband works as a gardener outside in the yard. So many people in Paris City envy our jobs." another maid added.

Anning had a complicated expression and muttered: "Gardener, at a time when patriots are on the frontlines, my wife still employs a gardener. He should be enlisting."

The speaking maid sighed: "He tried, but got rejected right away, because someone accused him of once being in the Royalist ranks. If he wasn’t currently working as a gardener for the lady, he might well have been sent to the guillotine.

"Many here are in the same boat; actually, we’re not Royalists at all, it’s just desperation forcing our hand, and when someone leads the chant, we just follow them out onto the streets."

Anning pursed his lips, thinking what a mess this was, me, a leader of the Jacobin faction, now harboring a bunch of former Royalists.

At that moment, another maid suddenly said: "I can tell, General sir, you’re a good person! I say, you might as well become the King of France, then surely we’d live good lives. Anyway, the lady is the King’s sister, I don’t understand the rules of succession, but I believe you must be eligible."

Anning was sweating now, darn it, if it weren’t for my military power, that statement alone would be enough to send me to the guillotine.

Anning: "I am the person who exiled Louis XVII, almost becoming a regicide. No Kingdom would allow me to be a king.

"Besides, it is the age of the Republic now. We aim to establish a Republic like Rome."

If Napoleon were here, he would probably add "Yet the Roman Republic eventually turned into an Empire," but the maids present didn’t know the history of Rome; to them, Rome was just one of many impressive terms, something far beyond the horizon.

In the midst of talking, Anning had finished dressing, and just then Christina came in: "Andy, you slept too late last night, so I didn’t wake you."

The maids very sensibly stepped aside, so Christina approached Anning and helped him adjust his clothing.

Anning: "Has Bertier’s routine report arrived?"

"It arrived early this morning. Your staff have already updated the latest information on the map."

Anning: "Good, send breakfast to the command. I’ll eat there."

Christina: "As you wish."

After speaking, she gently kissed Anning’s cheek: "It’s a little late, but good morning, dear."

"Good morning, dear." Anning kissed her cheek in return.

Shortly after, Anning arrived at the command, where the staff members were bustling around the map table. Seeing Anning enter, they immediately stopped what they were doing, stood at attention, and saluted.

Anning: "Carry on with your work. Bertier is now... here? How come he’s even further forward than yesterday?"

A staff member answered: "That was his position yesterday. Considering the distance from the front line, we have a day’s delay in our information."

"Alright, his position from the day before yesterday." Anning observed the map.

At that moment, Julian came over with a tray of coffee.

Yes, the horse boy Julian is now also doing the work of an ordinary soldier.

Anning picked up the coffee, sipped, and muttered, "Isn’t Bertier’s position a bit too far forward? How wide is this road?"

Anning picked up a pointer and gestured to a small path south of Verdun Fortress.

"A secondary postal road," a staff officer reported immediately.

"A secondary postal road, it can probably accommodate twenty to twenty-five thousand people, hmm, tsk, Bertier’s position..."

At this point, someone entered the room and loudly reported, "Report! Sir, Mr. Paul Balas has come to visit!"

Anning raised an eyebrow and looked up, "What does he want coming here?"

As soon as the voice fell, Balas entered the command headquarters: "I have come to bid you farewell. The National Assembly has decided to send Special Commissioners all over the country to completely quell the remnants of Royalists and Girondists."

Anning: "Should I congratulate you on your promotion then?"

"No, rather, I am just taking the opportunity to leave Paris." Balas shrugged, "Fouché has already left, and Talleyrand has gone to the UK to serve as an envoy. It seems everyone feels that Paris is now a pit of fire."

Anning helplessly curled his lip: "I was just about to have breakfast. Let’s eat together."

While speaking, Vanni pushed a cart into the command headquarters.

**

Lasalle personally led a squadron and a half of cavalry—a squadron and a half being a unit name under the large French Army organization, replacing the original regiment.

He rode north along the post road, approaching Verdun.

After galloping up to the top of a hill, Lasalle tightened the reins, halting his horse, and then gazed into the distance.

"Good lord," he muttered, "I freaking knew there would be a flank attack! Someone go, head to the headquarters at maximum speed, the enemy forces, at least three squadrons, are moving south from Verdun!"

Immediately, a cavalryman saluted Lasalle and then turned his horse and dashed away.

A lieutenant asked, "What about us?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Lasalle drew his sword, "We’ve got an entire squadron and a half here, facing an enemy on the move, do you think we can just go back? Of course not! Follow me, my horse sword has been thirsty for too long!"

Saying this, Lasalle took the lead and charged down the mound.

The cavalry behind him immediately followed, and the bugler didn’t even wait for Lasalle’s order before pulling out a bugle and blowing the attack signal.

**

While Bertier was deploying today’s marching plans, a sudden commotion arose outside headquarters.

Then the door was violently thrown open.

A cavalryman rushed into the room, shouting, "The enemy is here! They’re moving south from Verdun!"

Bertier shook his head: "That’s impossible. It must be a ruse by Lasalle, meant to deceive me into defending! How could it be that as soon as he leaves, the enemy starts moving south?"

The cavalryman stepped forward, grabbing Bertier’s collar: "If we get surrounded and suffer a great defeat here, can you shoulder that responsibility? These are the troops entrusted to you by the General! You’re heading for the guillotine!"

Bertier knocked the cavalryman’s hand away and snapped angrily, "Mind your rank and respect! Is there no military law anymore?"

"You will regret this! I truly saw at least three squadrons of the enemy moving south!"

Bertier eyed the cavalryman’s face skeptically for a few seconds and finally changed his mind: "You said three squadrons, right. Okay, I will order the 66th, 67th, and 68th regiments of line infantry to guard the road south from Verdun. Here, at Babi Village! This place is right where the road from the south intersects with our supply line. Isn’t this exactly what Lasalle is afraid of getting cut off by the enemy?

"If the enemy forces moving south are more than three squadrons, then Lasalle has scouted incorrectly!"