The Radiant Republic 155. The Valmy Battle VII

September twenty-sixth brought a rare stretch of clear weather. A red sun at last drove off the days of low cloud and rain. The sky seed higher, the air cleaner, and the broad sunlight made everything feel uncommonly comfortable.

At nine o’clock in the morning, in the Army of the use camp three kiloters west of the Valmy heights, all senior officers who had taken part in the Battle of Valmy had already ford up and assembled.

Before a huge tricolor command pavilion, Colonels and Generals in blue dress uniforms sat their tall horses in a straight line, waiting for the arrival of the supre commander of the Northern Front. Two days earlier, André had ordered the gendarrie commander, General Chassé, to lead a strategic reserve of 40,000 n to Valmy, while he himself slipped out of Suippes in secret, went to Châlons, t with Say and the others, and inspected the joint industrial complex. Only today did he ride north to the Army of the use headquarters camp.

Behind the line of field officers stood an infantry regint and a hussar regint arranged for review. Under the brilliant sun, tall shakos set with fine plus and handso uniforms trimd with gold-fringed epaulettes caught the light, composing a dazzling tableau of war.

Before long, the trumpets sounded. A military band that had long been ready began to play a new piece, Army of the use, the Mightiest—now adopted as the army’s song. At that very mont, André and his party entered the camp gate.

As always, the supre commander rode the chestnut mare nad Bellechère. She was descended from an Arabian purebred crossed with French stock: elegant in line yet powerfully built, keen in presence yet notably gentle. Most endearing of all, two of her hooves were white and two were brown. Ever since the Champagne Composite Regint had been ford at Bordeaux, Bellechère had been André’s exclusive mount.

Not a few people had mocked André openly or in private, saying that the young General could only—and dared only—ride a mare without “majesty.” André did as he pleased and never bothered to answer. By now, there were likely few left who dared to gossip. For André had ridden this mild-tempered chestnut mare, docile to the point of seeming incapable of anger, while commanding three armies in the north—nearly 200,000 n. In a few more days, André would ride Bellechère again and trample the entire Prusso-Austrian Coalition beneath his horse’s hooves.

When the supre commander reached the great army pavilion, the infantry regint under Lieutenant Colonel Masséna began to sing in full chorus to the rhythm of the orchestra, all two thousand officers and n lifting their voices in Army of the use, the Mightiest:

“Hey, the Prusso-Austrian Coalition are black crows, thinking to grind us underfoot;

From the Ardennes Forest to the banks of the Rhine—hey, our Army of the use is the mightiest;

Soldiers of Commander André, polish your bayonets, and grip your muskets tight;

We must grow tougher with every fight, and settle it to the death upon the field—upon the field.”

As expected, when André heard this “army song” that had been written in his own na, he looked openly delighted. When the chorus reached the opening words of the third line—“Soldiers of Commander André”—he broke into a broad smile at once. He checked the reins, swung down from the saddle, and strode toward the regint with evident enthusiasm. After a quick glance exchanged among themselves, the line of senior officers also dismounted and gathered around.

Walking at the front, André could not help frowning. He noticed that whether it was the soldiers ahead or the Generals behind him, the blue dress uniforms looked excellent—yet every chest was bare, with no decorations or dals to hang.

He imdiately began turning it over in his mind: France needed its own equivalent of an “Iron Cross,” to be awarded solely for battlefield bravery, including to noncommissioned officers at every level. For junior and mid-ranking officers, the proper decoration should be France’s traditional order of knighthood for rit. As for the highest commanders—Colonels and above—the supre honor should be a new order modeled on the “Legion of Honor” created in another world by Emperor Napoleon.

Beyond that, there would of course be commorative dals. After victory in this war of national defense, every participant—including logistics and train personnel—would receive a “Victory dal of the 1792 War of National Defense.” That, in fact, was why André had gone to Châlons: to press the industrial complex to rush-produce 200,000 commorative dals.

…

“Did you arrange that chorus in advance?” General Berthier, half a step behind, tugged Commander Moncey and asked in a low voice.

“Damn it, I am hearing this tune for the first ti today. I should have thrown Masséna into the Paris opera house back then—instead of letting him run a grand chorus inside my military band!”

As commander of the Army of the use, Moncey looked just as bewildered. Still, Army of the use, the Mightiest did sound genuinely good—forceful and stirring—and it neatly filled the one remaining gap among the three northern armies: only the Army of the use had lacked a song of its own. The one stealing the spotlight, however, was Masséna, and that left Moncey more than a little displeased.

Before long, Berthier noticed that his own staff officer, Lieutenant Colonel Suchet, was serving as the band’s conductor, and he imdiately guessed the whole story. The chief of staff then murmured a reminder into Moncey’s ear: “Later—once the band finishes—find a pretext to restore Masséna to the rank of Colonel.”

Moncey understood at once. He said nothing, only nodded, while cursing that shaless bastard in his heart. A few minutes later, the Italian-descended officer, with his loud and pleasing voice, regained the rank of Colonel. At the sa ti, Army of the use, the Mightiest began spreading widely among the soldiers of the camp, and soon beca the corps’ official song.

This small interlude passed as quickly as it had appeared. Accompanied by the assembled Generals, André entered the bright, spacious main pavilion to hear the latest frontline reports from the General Staff and the Army of the use headquarters.

Chief of Staff General Berthier stood beside the draped wall where an enormous map was hung, and began his briefing.

“Since two days ago—on the twenty-fourth of this month—when General Macdonald took the village of Clermont and successfully cut off the Prusso-Austrian Coalition’s line of retreat, Brunswick ordered General Hess to launch three assaults toward Clermont within twenty-four hours. All three were beaten back by General Macdonald.

“On the twenty-fifth, the enemy—General Clermont-Clifford, leading a portion of the coalition, a little over ten thousand n—conducted probing attacks toward Moiremont and Maffrécourt north of the Champagne road. At the sa ti, several thousand troops from the German states harassed the sector around Elistaucourt to the south, while small detachnts—largely rebels—attempted to infiltrate our lines. Without exception, all were easily repulsed or encircled and destroyed by our defending forces. Under the prewar deploynt plan, frontline commanders at every level were forbidden to pursue the enemy without authorization.

“Whether on the north and south lines or on General Macdonald’s eastern line, their duty is to hold their positions and let not a single invader slip away. Judging from the enemy’s casualty figures afterward, the coalition losses in these attacks were only a little over one thousand. Even if we add the fighting at Clermont, the Prusso-Austrian Coalition inside the ring should still number about 42,000. But if we exclude two thousand wounded and sick, their effective strength has fallen to 40,000.

“On the Army of the use front, Brunswick and the coalition main body remain in the Dommartin and Argonne sector about four kiloters east of the Valmy heights. As of one hour ago, there was no sign of an intention to continue westward. On the contrary, north of Dommartin, at a place the locals call Moon Bay, they have begun constructing a crude polygonal ring-fort…”

At this, André smiled. “A Moon Bay fort? So Brunswick and his Austrian Marshal want a war of endurance? Do they have enough food, ammunition, and dical supplies?”

Berthier replied, “According to our intelligence, the coalition command has authorized the n to draw on the ergency rations in their packs. At most, that can last five days. Ammunition is unclear, but judging from the intensity of their recent actions, it is certainly insufficient. As for dical supplies, their wounded survive by luck.”

André considered it. “Five days? Then they are waiting to see whether reinforcents north of Verdun can reopen a supply corridor for a drive south—and west. In other words, in five to seven days, the Germans will lay down their arms?”

“Yes,” Berthier confird, then added, “But I believe that before Brunswick surrenders, he will gamble on a full-scale assault on the Valmy front. Of course, General Moncey has made preparations, and there are alternative plans even if the coalition changes its main direction of attack. With the semaphore network in place, the Germans’ every movent is under our close observation. In addition, the newly ford balloon company has begun dropping leaflets over the coalition positions…”

From the standpoint of professional soldiers, whether in the General Staff or the Army of the use headquarters, everyone hoped the coalition commander would launch a series of violent attacks—against the front, the flanks, or even the rear. Once the Germans were checked, exhausted, and demoralized, the main body—rested and supported by reserves—could thrust a fatal blow into the enemy’s belly and end this war of national defense that had already lasted more than a month. No one truly wished to see the coalition shrink into a fort and end the war by “peace negotiations.”

As supre commander, André understood this perfectly well. He did not openly state the final position of the Northern Command Headquarters; he needed to weigh the battlefield situation and its possible developnts, as well as the political environnt at ho and abroad, before deciding. Only a few days earlier, the rotating president of the National Convention had written again, demanding that the Northern Command Headquarters drive the intervention army out of France before October. André’s reply had been simple: You may co to the front and speak to face to face. That was enough to frighten the Brissot-aligned representative from Lyon into no longer daring to send official letters to the Northern Command Headquarters in the na of the national legislature.

Although André was not a specialist in battlefield tactics, in the eyes of the Generals he was an outstanding war leader. No external interference ever reached the commanders at the front, because André alone bore all outside pressure. In matters of deploynt and the assignnt of troops, the General Staff and the army headquarters made the decisions; André rarely interfered, doing little more than signing off. Afterward, the gendarrie command verified the results and assessed gains and losses, and then issued rewards and punishnts.

…

On the Verdun axis, to draw coalition forces besieging Verdun and to open communications with Brunswick, the Military Intelligence Office worked with the gendarrie to project a false picture of the situation. The Austro-Prussian intervention force to the northeast was led to believe that Brunswick’s coalition had recently smashed the main French force of the Army of the use and was now advancing on Châlons-en-Champagne.

According to frontline feedback, the northern coalition elents appeared to have believed this false intelligence. German Generals stubbornly concluded that France’s recapture of Verdun, and the dispatch of small parties to harass coalition supply lines and communications, was a desperate act precisely because the French main force had been defeated by Duc de Brunswick. Therefore, all the northern coalition had to do was reopen the lines of communication for a renewed drive south—and west—and victory would follow, completing the grand march on Paris.

At present, the Germans had gathered roughly 20,000 n around tz, Longwy, and Étain—more than half of them troops from the German states. Prince Hohenlohe-Kirchberg was expected to command, and the plan was to launch an offensive against Fort Vaux and Fort Douaumont tomorrow, or at the latest the day after.

“And who is commanding the defense at Verdun now?” André interjected.

General Moncey, as army commander, rose and took over the briefing from Berthier.

“It is Colonel Moreau. General Macdonald has also sent three thousand reinforcents to Verdun. With Moreau’s large infantry regint, two thousand prisoners rescued there, and three thousand rebel troops from the forr émigré detachnt who have been brought over, we now have ten thousand n deployed across Verdun, Fort Vaux, and Fort Douaumont. The thirty-five guns are concentrated largely in the two sister forts. In addition, General Custine has dispatched three thousand infantry and two artillery companies to support Verdun. Under the planned schedule, these reinforcents will enter the fortress tonight.

“As for Colonel Davout’s second rifle regint, after two days of refit it has begun shifting east as originally planned, moving toward tz seventy kiloters away to join the counteroffensive sequence of the Army of the Rhine. Behind enemy lines, the third rifle regint under Lieutenant Colonel Friant is still operating in dispersed detachnts. Since yesterday I have ordered Lieutenant Colonel Friant to reduce the frequency of raids so that the northern coalition can enter our ambush zone smoothly…”

Moncey continued. On the northern axis under General Lefebvre and the left axis under General Augereau, the forces were still in a standoff with the coalition. Any counterattack in those sectors had to wait until the day Brunswick’s corps was annihilated. As for the Army of the North and the Army of the Rhine, the situation was broadly the sa, with no major change from the reports of two or three days earlier. Because the semaphore network now covered the whole of northern France, even the farthest Army of the North could receive operational orders issued by André from the Northern Command Headquarters within five hours.

anwhile, the Prusso-Austrian Coalition, thanks to the scorched-earth policy and constant harassnt in the rear, had beco almost blind and deaf. Its frontline forces could only guess and estimate, or accept the misleading information provided by French intelligence.

…

The so-called Moon Bay fort was an oval earthwork built around a small hill with a vertical rise of less than fifty ters, with a few crude gun platforms inside the rampart. Duc de Brunswick and the Field Marshal of Saxe-Coburg called this ramshackle construction a forward base for attacking Châlons-en-Champagne.

Yet more and more coalition officers had co to believe that they were rely struggling in their final monts. The French had encircled them so tightly that supply wagons from the rear had not arrived for five days. Colonel Pirotto, once an adjutant to Marquis de Bouillé, did not deny his colleagues’ judgnt in his heart, but he would never admit defeat. Even if he died on the battlefield, he ant to fall in the act of charging the enemy.

Last June, when Marquis de Bouillé acknowledged that the attempt to rescue the King had failed and chose self-exile to the French colony of Saint-Domingue, Pirotto—then still a Major—refused his commander’s invitation to follow. He entrusted only his younger brother Conot, the next Comte de Saizia, to the old commander’s care. Pirotto himself went to Koblenz and entered the service of the Comte of Artois. After the émigré corps was ford, Major Pirotto was promoted to Colonel and given command of a dragoon regint.

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In truth, cavalry had little real use on the rugged, mountainous terrain of the northeastern French theater. Even without many chances to fight in open battle, Colonel Pirotto had nevertheless perford a major service: he had risked his life to slip into heavily guarded tz and persuaded his forr classmate from the Paris military school, Colonel Marie-de-Frottey. In the end, he induced the fortress commander to rebel, allowing the coalition to take tz without a fight. Afterward, the Prussian crown prince—acting in place of the Comte of Artois—appointed Colonel Pirotto deputy commander of the émigré corps, ranking second only to the overall commander, Comte de Bercy.

But all good fortune vanished once the coalition marched west from Verdun. The day before yesterday, General Hess failed at Clermont, and the whole cavalry regint was destroyed. Yesterday, General Clermont-Clifford’s raids against the northern and southern lines t one setback after another. Only the Champagne road toward Châlons remained open.

There was no doubt: that road was André’s carefully designed trap. Like a cruel spider that had spun an airtight web, he was simply waiting for the prey to walk in of its own accord.

At that thought, Pirotto felt a sting of regret. When he had parted from Marquis de Bouillé, his superior had warned him: unless you can win decisively in a single blow, when fighting André you must never stop thinking about the security of your supply line. André was best at appearing weak and misleading his opponent, then, without fanfare, cutting off every retreat by political and military ans alike, forcing you into a dead end until you had no choice but to lay down your arms.

Of course, it was pointless to say such things now. Yesterday, Pirotto had been ordered to recruit a two-hundred-man suicide detachnt from the émigré corps. Under cover of night, they moved north to attempt a breakout by infiltrating the French line near Leclerc on the edge of the Argonne Forest, hoping to deliver Duc de Brunswick’s personal letter to tz or the Étain fortress.

But the mont the detachnt reached the French line, alert blue-coated sentries detected them. A sudden volley and artillery fire followed; the detachnt was almost wiped out. Colonel Pirotto himself was nearly captured. In the end, only about ten lucky n made it back to the coalition camp alive.

Unwilling to accept this, Colonel Pirotto tried to organize a second breakout, but few responded. The reason was that the blue-coated side had begun distributing leaflets by balloon. The leaflets claid that, apart from émigré noble officers who must face trial, all rebel soldiers of the émigré corps could keep their lives if they surrendered on the battlefield; after six to eight months of labor, they would regain their freedom; if they earned rit, they could even join the blue-coated French army and serve the French Republic.

Although Comte de Bercy and Colonel Pirotto ordered the gendarrie to confiscate such leaflets and strictly forbade their circulation, it was useless. So long as it did not pour with rain, French balloons appeared over the coalition camp on schedule each day, scattering thousands upon thousands of leaflets—many with images so that illiterate soldiers could grasp the aning.

The French leaflets were not limited to the rebels. They also urged the Prusso-Austrian Coalition to surrender, promising good treatnt for prisoners. Those who surrendered could return ho after six to eight months of labor service; coalition officers could secure release by paying a fixed redemption price—put plainly, by paying money for freedom.

The coalition command headquarters inside the Moon Bay fort was one of the few brick-and-timber structures in the entire position. All the materials had been dragged from the ruins of Sainte-nehould five or six kiloters away. Most other shelters were made of branches and thatch, or consisted of crude tents.

Thatch huts and tents could barely keep out rain, but they provided poor warmth. From late September onward, the nightly low in eastern Champagne had already fallen to three degrees Celsius. anwhile, coalition soldiers wore only a coat over a shirt and an undershirt—autumn clothing. Winter gear was likely still piled in the supply depots at the Virton fortress.

Because the rain had been constant, and because wet branches and leaves were hard to ignite, coalition soldiers struggled to keep fires going for heat and cooking. Most of the ti they produced only thick smoke that stung the eyes. Many n, ignoring repeated warnings from dical officers, drank unclean river water or ate raw food, and the number of infectious diseases soared.

The closer one drew to Valmy, the more thoroughly the French scorched-earth policy had been enforced.

In Dommartin and Argonne, near the coalition command headquarters, the French had been so ticulous in withdrawal that they even pushed loose bricks and tiles into the river, leaving not a single piece behind. As a result, when building the Moon Bay fort, the coalition had to go to great trouble, digging stones out of riverbank mud to construct infantry earthworks and gun platforms.

Only one thing remained untouched: the Champagne road toward Châlons. Its surface was still intact—indeed, it was said to be surfaced with a kind of asphalt, laid with bitun that was not costly in itself, though expensive to transport.

…

Before dawn, in a tent near the headquarters, Duc de Brunswick suddenly woke from sleep. It was four o’clock in the morning. The temperature was still below three degrees Celsius, and another cold, gloomy day was beginning. The old Duc ached all over and felt crushingly heavy. His legs were still swollen; he coughed without pause; his head seed clamped in an iron ring, and a terrible migraine surged.

“A damned cold,” he cursed inwardly. He fumbled a small vial of laudanum from his coat pocket, drank it down in one go, and lay back on his campaign cot. Two hours later, the air was still cold and damp, but he could plainly feel fever rising in his body, and the worst symptoms were gradually easing.

With effort, the coalition commander-in-chief climbed out of bed and sat at a small writing desk. His adjutant had bought it from a camp profiteer for two florins. The Duc struck a match, lit the stub of a candle, put on his spectacles, and began reviewing the various docunts and dispatches brought in by his aides.

When the sky brightened enough that he could read the papers clearly, Brunswick quickly extinguished the candle to avoid wasting it. This was already the fifth day of encirclent, and every material was scarce.

Two boiled potatoes, a bowl of barley porridge that even the horses disliked, and a small dish of salted pickles—obtained by an aide from the profiteer in exchange for extra potatoes—made up Brunswick’s breakfast. After eating, he sent the aide away and walked alone along the Moon Bay fort.

Wherever he went, even Prussian sergeants looked slack and listless. Even when officers urged them, they perford salutes with obvious reluctance.

A few gendars saw this and did not find it strange. They did not intervene at all. Hunger was a bitter thing. Since five days earlier, when more than 40,000 coalition troops had been surrounded by over 100,000 French troops, every coalition soldier had been compelled to hand over the ergency rations in his pack to the regintal supply officer. After that, rations were issued only twice a day, in portions half the usual size—never enough to fill a belly, only enough to keep a man moving. Perhaps starting tomorrow, they would be reduced to one al per day.

Thus Brunswick did his best to avoid the resentful looks in so many soldiers’ eyes. In the past, he himself had looked the sa way at a Prussia on the verge of defeat—at Frederick the Great, when Berlin had been occupied by the anti-Prussian coalition. In those days, the young Brunswick and his uncle, the old Duc de Brunswick, had gone hungry while leading an incomplete, ill-assorted army against a Franco-Austrian force twice their size.

“André has been at the Valmy heights for two days,” Duc de Brunswick murmured on the ridge. He tried to guess when the French would attack, but reason told him that André was waiting for the coalition to surrender.

Before long, from the French-held side of the Valmy heights ca a series of thunderous cheers. From ti to ti, cries carried over: “Long live the supre commander!” “Long live André!” “Long live the Army of the use!” Soon afterward, the fierce, overbearing chorus of Army of the use, the Mightiest drifted across to the coalition side as well.

“A showboating clown from Reims!” the coalition commander-in-chief spat after hearing the opening line, furious—and helpless.

Along with the cheers and the singing, two or three balloons rose steadily over the French positions. These were, of course, the work of the Montgolfier brothers. Like many nobles and academicians who had chosen not to leave France, the Montgolfier brothers had gladly accepted the invitation of the Reims Polytechnic Institute, selecting a political refuge that avoided Paris without requiring exile from France.

In March of this year, following the Montgolfier brothers’ latest design, André had ordered the formation of the world’s first balloon company at the Reims camp. The company possessed eight balloons fit for service. After September, the envelopes began to be filled with hydrogen, which improved endurance and lift but was also far more dangerous. For his own reasons, André still called them “hot-air balloons,” not hydrogen balloons.

This balloon company belonged to the Northern Command Headquarters. Its personnel were mainly scholars, engineers, and skilled technicians, with gendars assigned for security and protection. Their duties included aerial reconnaissance, weather forecasting, artillery spotting, and—according to the wind—distributing leaflets over enemy troops. To protect observers, the basket carried several ropes dozens of ters long, tethering the balloon to the ground so it could not drift away. As for the tactical bombing André had imagined countless tis, it was nearly impossible before the appearance of true airships.

By eight o’clock, full daylight had co. The soldiers in the baskets again took advantage of a favorable wind, throwing thousands upon thousands of surrender leaflets toward the coalition positions several kiloters away. Before long, one leaflet happened to land at the Duc’s feet. Brunswick glanced down casually and saw that the content differed little from the leaflets of five days earlier. The printing was bilingual, and it included crude illustrated figures.

A few days ago, coalition gendars had still been confiscating such leaflets everywhere. But after four or five days, they no longer reacted with surprise. Every coalition officer and man already knew the terms.

Under the regulations issued by the French Command Headquarters, any coalition soldier—identified by a basic screening as not having committed war cris, including soldiers of the émigré corps—could be released after six to eight months of labor service. In practice, this applied mainly to noncombat personnel such as engineers, supply n, and train troops. For other soldiers, each engagent against the French added an additional two to three months of labor service; in effect, most would serve about twelve months.

The labor itself was generally reconstruction work for suffering civilians in occupied Champagne, Lorraine, and Alsace; next, building public roads between the fifteen northern provinces and constructing bridges. Only those found guilty of war cris were sent to dangerous mining districts, for a term of two years.

As for doctors, nurses, and priests attached to field hospitals, as well as camp rchants, prostitutes, servants, laborers, various craftsn, and tradesn, the French allowed them to leave France freely after the war. However, their personal property and goods had to be searched by the gendarrie, and rchants were required to pay a set amount of tax.

The French also welcod skilled specialists from the coalition—dical personnel, engineers, artilleryn, and cavalryn—promising that service could offset one’s own labor term, or that of friends and relatives, and offer greater chances of promotion. In the French army, most officers were common-born, including their commander André. In the coalition, officers were uniformly hereditary nobles or drawn from officer families. For common soldiers, the highest attainable rank was sergeant, and without extraordinary rit it was essentially impossible to beco an officer.

In addition, the French fixed a public price list for officers who had not committed war cris—excluding noble officers of the émigré corps. The redemption price for an infantry Second Lieutenant began at two thousand thalers. A Lieutenant paid three thousand thalers, a Captain four thousand five hundred thalers; a Major seven thousand thalers, a Lieutenant Colonel ten thousand thalers, a Colonel twenty thousand thalers. A Brigadier General paid eight thousand florins, a Major General fifteen thousand florins, and a Lieutenant General and a Marshal fifty thousand florins. Each ti a coalition officer participated in or commanded a battle, the redemption price rose by twenty to thirty percent; moreover, officers of the coalition command and staff were charged twenty percent above ordinary officers.

One idle staff officer in the coalition had calculated that under these redemption standards, the French would collect twenty-three million thalers from coalition officers already captured and soon to be captured; if one added the cumulative increases tied to battle participation and command, the figure would be at least thirty-eight million thalers, equivalent to one hundred and forty million livres. That was said to equal eighty percent of Prussia’s total national inco last year.

Now, the Kingdom of Prussia was still desperately poor; it was said that its foreign debt remained above one hundred million thalers. André understood such realities and did not expect to extract much “war compensation” from Berlin. Intelligence, however, indicated that German noble officers were not poor. His asking price was indeed steep, but a noble family could still scrape together the sum by selling one or two estates and parting with inherited jewels. If the remainder still fell short, André could display great rcy by having managers from the joint comrcial bank’s credit departnt proactively contact these German noble prisoners. If anyone later dared to default, it would make an excellent pretext for another war.

From another angle, the very existence of this redemption list ant that coalition lives were, in effect, protected. If defeat was becoming inevitable, survival ca first. As for fighting, n preferred to avoid it. Under the French formula, once battle began, even a man who survived would add three months to his labor term; commanders would add thirty percent to their redemption price. It was unbearable.

Duc de Brunswick knew that this self-abandoning mood of surrender was spreading widely through the coalition ranks, and that once it took hold, fighting could not continue. Yet as commander-in-chief he could not crush it by strict orders—because even the coalition chief of staff, the Field Marshal of Saxe-Coburg, was secretly writing to his wife in Vienna, urging her to sell several estates at once to raise his redemption money.

Most such letters could not pass through the French blockade. They had to be handed to camp rchants, who secretly transferred them to French gendars, who then arranged for copies to be made and dispatched onward. At first, these acts of betrayal were done covertly, through interdiaries. Now, according to gendarrie reports, a number of officers from the German states and the Austrian kingdom were simply running to the French positions to sign docunts in person so their families would hurry to raise the money.

Two days earlier, the gendarrie had reported sothing even worse to Duc de Brunswick: so soldiers had consud part of their ergency rations on the march without special permission from their commanders—or perhaps with their commanders turning a blind eye. In Frederick the Great’s era, such a dereliction would have earned a dozen lashes. Now, Duc de Brunswick could no longer enforce discipline. From tomorrow onward, more than 40,000 coalition n would face a single al per day and collective hunger.

There were, of course, cavalry horses that could be slaughtered for food. But many cavalry commanders banded together and declared openly that if anyone dared to treat their “closest comrades” as at, the cavalry would defect to the French without hesitation and swear to fight the “butchers” to the death. As for the packhorses and oxen of the train, they had already beco “delicacies” on officers’ tables last night—without enough salt or seasoning—and had been completely consud.

Perhaps in the whole coalition, only Duc de Brunswick still clung to a final hope. He still imagined a miracle. In the darkest mont of the Seven Years’ War, Russia, Austria, France, Sweden, Denmark, Poland, and most of the German states had raised forces totaling 500,000 to attack Prussia, a kingdom of fewer than five million people. Berlin had soon surrendered without a fight.

Even so, Frederick the Great had not abandoned hope. He had refused coalition surrender envoys five tis. At the sa ti, a pendant on the Prussian king’s chest held enough poison to kill five warhorses; if captured after defeat, he ant to take his own life. Yet in the end he lived to see his hour of victory: the Empress of Russia died, and the new Tsar was an admirer…

As for Brunswick’s “miracle,” it might be André dying suddenly, the French lifting the siege; or Verdun falling again to the coalition, reopening the westward supply line; or sothing else entirely. He forced himself to stop thinking, fearing that his remaining reason would dismiss each possibility one by one.

In his heart, the Duc admitted that if the French launched a general counteroffensive, the coalition troops trapped in the wilderness would offer only token resistance before surrendering in formation. The fighting might last no more than six to eight hours. The French commander’s delay made the intention obvious: minimize French losses in exchange for the greatest possible victory, using disease, hunger, fear, and surrender propaganda to crush resistance and force capitulation without battle.

There was yet another point, added by the Field Marshal of Saxe-Coburg: “André is using us as bait, to draw coalition elents forward as reinforcents—only for them to fall one after another into traps the French have laid in advance.”

Thus, a few nights earlier, Duc de Brunswick had given Colonel Pirotto his personal letter, hoping that the émigré suicide detachnt could break through the French cordon, cross the holand they knew so well, and head north to the Longwy fortress or east to tz to reach the Prusso-Austrian Coalition. The letter instructed Prince Hohenlohe-Kirchberg at tz to withdraw imdiately with the remaining forces, return to German territory, and organize defenses in the Austrian Netherlands and along the Rhine to guard against a French general counteroffensive.

Unfortunately, the rebel raid failed, and even Brunswick’s personal letter fell into French hands. Given what the coalition knew of the French commander, the Duc believed that André—whose strength lay in shaless and ruthless thods—would certainly exploit it carefully, sending agents to lure the sowhat dull-witted old prince into a trap.

In fact, Duc de Brunswick’s prediction proved grimly accurate. At noon today, the 20,000 reinforcents led by Prince Hohenlohe-Kirchberg were t under the walls of Verdun by more than 10,000 French troops and destroyed in detail. The aged and muddleheaded prince, after failing to take Fort Vaux and Fort Douaumont, had naively trusted the partial claims of French agents. After receiving a forged letter in Brunswick’s hand, he ignored the two gateway forts and attacked the strong Verdun fortress directly. When the French struck back from all three positions at once, the Austro-Prussian relief force was annihilated.

After this battle, of the coalition’s 22,000 n, only a little over one thousand cavalry escaped by sheer luck. Even the old Prince Hohenlohe-Kirchberg was captured in a daze, becoming yet another Austrian Marshal who would have to pay a redemption price.