Chapter 111: Toulon 9
"Indeed, the British are stronger than the Austrians and Prussians," Napoleon said to Oloron as he watched the approaching British army.
"If it were a field battle, these fellows could inflict significant casualties on us," Oloron nodded in agreement. "Look at them; after such a beating, the Austrians would have turned back home to their mothers."
"Austrians? At Valmy, just one round of artillery fire killed hundreds, and the rest of them, tens of thousands, froze in fear. But look at the British, they charge right at us," Napoleon admired.
"Fortunately, we now hold the initiative," Oloron sincerely stated, "General, as you mentioned earlier, in most cases, defense is a stronger strategy than offense, but in war, victory often requires an offensive approach. So, a good general, even in an offensive operation, should seize the crucial moments on the battlefield, capture the key positions, and force the enemy to attack our well-defended lines. Transform a strategically offensive operation into a tactical defensive counterattack. I used to think this was impossible, but now, haven't we achieved just that? We are the ones on the offensive, but because we hold the key positions, the defensive enemy is forced to leave their fortifications to attack us. General Bonaparte..."
Oloron raised his thumb in admiration. "Brilliant, simply brilliant!"
Napoleon, pleased with the praise, listened with satisfaction. He knew Oloron wasn't one to flatter, and even though this principle wasn't originally his idea, why split hairs among brothers? Besides, Joseph was all talk, and in this situation, he might not have grasped this key. So, Napoleon was quite content with his actions. However, he didn't display his satisfaction and simply said, "Let's discuss it further after we repel the British's current attack."
The British were now within musket range, and the cannons on the fortifications began to fire grape shot. Row after row of British soldiers fell, but those behind them continued to advance steadily, maintaining their uniform pace.
Compared to the European practice of walking a few steps and then firing or employing three-stage volleys, the British had a different approach. Their discipline was to advance directly, moving within bayonet reach, extending their muskets under their enemy's noses, and firing in unison. Then, they would follow with a bayonet charge, cutting down the opposition. While the British had a smaller army, their combat effectiveness was at a higher level than the foes that the French had faced before.
The British left behind several bodies, but they continued to close in. As long as a courageous force moved forward, it could always make progress. According to their tradition, they would approach within ten yards, halt, fire a volley, and then charge with bayonets.
However, this time, things took a different turn. Just as the British halted, something resembling a barrage of explosive stones came from the French side and landed among them, exploding violently.
These were the special weapons Joseph had advised Napoleon to bring, hand grenades.
In fact, throwing explosives at the enemy in battle wasn't a new concept. People had done it before, but those early grenades were filled with black powder, and to be effective, they needed to be quite large. Large enough that ordinary soldiers couldn't throw them far, and even the strong ones couldn't throw them very far. If the size was reduced to the point where regular soldiers could throw them far, their power would be closer to that of firecrackers.
But Napoleon vetoed this suggestion. He believed that attacking a fortified position of the enemy, while already having a decided victory, would result in unnecessary casualties, which was not cost-effective.
Davout was convinced by this reasoning. His only concern was whether the traitors of their homeland would escape with the invaders.
"The British and Spanish are barely saving themselves right now; they won't have time to worry about those traitors. Don't worry; they won't get away!" Napoleon assured.
The final ships were preparing to leave the harbor, but the docks were crowded with people - former royalists who had served the British. They realized that if they remained in Toulon, they would surely face the guillotine once the British left. So they flocked to the docks, hoping for mercy from their British protectors, hoping for a chance to board the ships and leave Toulon.
Napoleon watched this from Fort Marlagne and ordered, "Aim at those folks on the docks, fire with all you've got! Davout, prepare to enter the city!"
Davout acknowledged and rushed down. Napoleon continued to observe the artillery's results with his spyglass.
A cannonball landed in the crowd on the docks, creating a path of blood. More people, in a panic, leaped into the water, attempting to swim to the British ships.
Napoleon saw a British officer shouting something to the people below, perhaps, "God save the King" or something else. It didn't matter because the next moment, several British soldiers pulled out their bayonets, fired another command, and a thick smoke emerged on the ship's sides - the British soldiers were firing at the royalists swimming towards their ships.
One by one, the royalists were shot and sank into the sea. Napoleon watched, a satisfied smile on his face.
At that moment, a figure caught his attention. Gasping for breath, the person slipped into the water, avoiding the volley of shots, and swam towards the British ship. Like a spider, he crawled up the ship's side.
"This man is quite agile," Napoleon remarked. "But, unfortunately..."
The man had finally climbed up to the ship's side, extended his head, seemingly shouting something - perhaps "God save the King" or something else. It didn't matter because the next second, several British soldiers thrust their bayonets into his abdomen, and with a final push, they threw him back into the sea. This time, he didn't resurface.
"This is the fate of traitors!" Oloron, who was also watching, sighed.
